Date: Tue, 28 Dec 2004 12:09:27 -0800 (PST)
From: Sebastian Wallace <sebastian_wallace@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Christmas Reunion Part 2

CHRISTMAS REUNION (Part 2)
by Sebastian Wallace

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Author: sebastian_wallace@yahoo.co.uk
Website: http://stories.remoworld.com

===

I wouldn't have seen them if the door hadn't have been ajar.

I'd heard them talking -- that's what had awoken me -- but I'd have assumed
they were just having a chat if I hadn't have seen them.  Thought they were
talking about old times or something.  Whatever guys of their age talk
about.

I'd come downstairs for a glass of water.  I hadn't meant to spy on them.

But, like I said, I got glimpse of them through the gap in the door as I
walked past it.

And that's what made me stop.  The hallway was freezing cold and I was
wearing only a pair of pyjama bottoms and a vest but I had to see what was
going on.

You see, what caught my attention was that they were both inside the
sleeping bag.  Both squeezed into the one sleeping bag.  Whispering stuff
to each other.

At first I thought maybe I was mistaken: that it wasn't the two brothers
together; that the older of them had sneaked a girl in.  That was the way
the whispering sounded: kind of conspiratorial; like a couple of lovers.

But both voices were deep and I realised it was the two guys in there.

My nephews.

Then I noticed the way the bag was moving.

I couldn't really see very much -- the only light was the flickering of the
fire -- but it was obvious what was going on inside the bag.  It was pretty
clear that they were fiddling with each other.

I suppose my immediate reaction was to be appalled by what I was seeing.

Two grown lads, brothers no less, playing with each other.

I almost wanted to walk right in and stop them.

But something held me back.  Curiosity, maybe.  Morbid fascination.  I
don't know.

They kept kissing each other between whispering together.  Kissing like
they meant it.

I thought I must be dreaming this.  This couldn't be happening.

I mean, the younger guy has had girlfriends.  I'd even met one a couple of
years earlier.  And he was seeing someone right then, or so I gathered.

The older one was a good looking lad as well.  He'd just got himself an
impressive job by all accounts.  Women would be throwing themselves at him.

So what the hell was going on?  Why would they be playing around with each
other?

The older one said something and the younger one chuckled.

They unzipped the bag halfway down, and the younger of them lay on his
back.  I saw his knob poking out from the top of his underpants.  The other
lad pulled his brother's underpants down a little further and handled his
knob like it was made of glass.

Like he was in awe of it or something.

It was a pretty big piece of meat, I have to say.  A size or two bigger
than mine.  I think I might have been in awe of it, come to think of it.

I almost gasped when the older lad began sucking at the head of his
brother's knob.

I really couldn't believe what I was seeing.

The younger one groaned like a contented dog and lay back to enjoy the
attention he was getting.  He held his brother's head, like he was trying
to get more of his knob into the guy's mouth each time the older guy moved
his face down onto it.

Then the one doing the sucking paused and looked up at his brother's face.
He smiled at him and said something like, "Am I better than your
girlfriend?"

The younger guy laughed and said, "Like I said, it's totally
different... it feels nice because it's you, Gazz... not 'cause you're a
substitute for a girl..."

And that's what started me thinking.

I'd never done much with my brother -- their father -- but what little we
had got up to after lights out was always... well... a bit special.

Maybe that sounds a bit sentimental, I don't know.

But seeing the two of them made me remember that I'd enjoyed something of
what they were now feeling myself thirty or so years earlier.

Hugging each other, pressing our knobs up against each other, that kind of
stuff.  Maybe tossing off, I don't remember.

I just know that it had felt nice to be close to Jim like that.  When we
were teens.

To feel my older brother's arms around me and to enjoy feeling him getting
excited; to know that we were both getting aroused by the other's pleasure
as we pressed our bodies against each other.  It had sort of brought us
together.  If that doesn't sound too soft.

These guys were in a different league from their father and I, but I could
see the appeal and, I think, understand why they were doing it.

I must say that the older one gave his brother's knob a treat, working the
shaft with his fingers while his mouth kissed and licked at the head.  His
technique was gentle and tender.  It was, I could see, and act of affection
more than of lust.

Or that's how it looked.

Could I have done this to Jim when we were their age?

I wasn't sure.

Maybe it would have been nice if we had.

*****

When Gareth had finished his elaborate, and extremely pleasant, way of
wetting my cock, he looked up at me, smiling.

I said, "Are you really sure about this, Gazz?"

He nodded.  "Yeah..."

He rolled over onto his stomach and I pulled the back of his briefs down to
the tops of his thighs.  His arsecheeks looked soft and pale in the dim red
flicker from the fire.

I worked my fingers into his cleft, finding his tight, puckered hole.

He gasped.

Then I surprised him -- surprised myself, actually -- by wetting his
opening using my tongue.  He tried to pull away -- seemed almost
embarrassed -- but I held him firm and licked at his anus, tasting its
faintly bitter scent and feeling the heat of it against my tongue.

Pressing my face against Gareth's arse like that made my cock strain in
anticipation.  The sensation wasn't disgusting at all; I hadn't expected it
be.  Instead, it felt intensely arousing to be so intimate with my brother
and for us to be showing each other such trust.

After I'd moistened him, I mounted him and eased my cock slowly and gently
into his rectum.

Gareth smiled and groaned in appreciation.  He said, "That feels nice..."

I put my arms around his chest, my face against the back of his neck, and
started fucking him with long, deliberate strokes.

He muttered, "Oh God... I'm not gonna last long..."

*****

I'd never seen two men making love -- never even imagined what it would
look like, if I'm honest -- but seeing those two doing it, in front of the
fire like that, was... well...

Beautiful, I suppose.

Awe-inspiring.

The front of my blue pyjamas rose up like one of those ski jumps you see on
the telly.  My own organ was demanding attention from my hand.  I can't
remember the last time it did that.

I felt a little guilty that I had become aroused seeing my own nephews
sharing their private moment, but I couldn't deny that what I was looking
at was incredibly erotic.  Yes, erotic.  I was fully aware that this was an
act of buggery -- that I was watching one brother sodomising the other --
but I think it was the motivation behind it that I found so captivating.

These guys really loved each other.

They were unashamed about being intimate together.

That was what was so beautiful about it.

And, when you think about it, how can two people better express affection
than to make love with one another?

How can one man better express his love and trust of another than to allow
him to enter his body?

I really was awe-struck.  Open-mouthed and dumbfounded.

I began to imagine doing to my older brother -- Jim -- what the younger guy
was doing to his older brother.  When we'd been their age.

The idea was enticing, though tinged with regret that it hadn't happened;
that Jim and I had never been close enough to have experienced this
together.

That to do so would be impossible now.

I realised the front of my pyjamas had a damp patch the size of a fifty
pence piece at the tip of my erection.  I eased my organ out through the
fly and gently worked at it with my fingers.

The younger lad pulled his brother upward so that he was bending on all
fours.  Then he got upright behind him, his hips bucking against the older
lad's buttocks.

They were both panting like a couple of greyhounds.

The older lad groaned, "Aah... Sebastian..."

The younger lad was carressing his brother's back and his chest, his hands
exploring the other lad's body inside his loose-fitting teeshirt.

So this was brotherly love.

If only I'd have known.

Then the older one pushed himself upright so that the two of them were
kneeling together, one behind the other.

I saw that they were moving in time together: the older lad was pushing his
bum back against the younger; the younger one was driving himself in to
meet him.

I was bowled over again by the beauty of it.  The sheer elegance.

These guys must adore each other.

I saw the older lad's knob arching upwards in front of him while he
received his brother behind him.  It looked thick and enormous, bouncing
around in time with their love-making.

The younger lad's hand reached round to hold it, but the older one brushed
him off.

He said, "Only when you're ready, Seb..."

The other one panted, "I am..."

The older one shifted his position slightly, opening his legs further, and
then grabbed his brother's hand and placed it on his knob.

Their movements became faster; frenzied almost.

The older brother erupted almost as soon as the younger lad wrapped his
fingers around his knob.

The younger one began bucking his hips furiously: pumping himself in and
out of his brother's backside as he reached his own climax.

The two of them were grunting like a couple of pigs.

In my mind's eye I was watching Jim and I at their age in their place.  The
two of us in front of the fire, me behind him with my arms around him,
being intimate with him in ways I would never have considered.

I only realised then that my own knob was spurting and that I was grunting
too.

As they cleaned themselves up, and as I tried to wipe as much of my own
mess from the living room door as I could, I felt a sense of loss creeping
over me.

It was an odd sensation -- I still get it from time to time -- of having
missed out on something at an age when I hadn't even known such things were
possible.

Sometimes when I see Jim looking over at me at family get-togethers, deep
in thought, I wonder if he sometimes feels it too.  If he knows what his
two sons have experienced together and regrets that we hadn't had the
courage to explore it too.

I didn't get much sleep that night.  My mind was reeling like it had had
been kicked in the teeth.

*****

I didn't see Gareth in the New Year like we'd planned.

I meant to, it was just that unexpected things happened and I ended up in
hospital throughout most of January as a patient rather than a student.

He sent me a card, which said, "Thinking of you.  Gareth."

He was just about the only member of my family who did.

Actually, thinking back, I seem to remember that I got one from Uncle Sean,
which was a little bizarre.  It must have been the first time that he'd
ever shown that he could remember my name, never mind cared about my state
of health.

There was no mention of Auntie Diane on it; it was just signed, "Hope to
see you soon, Uncle Sean."

Odd.

I next saw Gareth just before Easter.

I went to stay with him at a flat he was sharing with a friend in Epsom.

The weird thing was that when I realised, after a couple of hours of being
there, that his friend was a bit more than a friend, I actually found
myself feeling jealous!  Jealous of my brother's boyfriend!

But, in retrospect, I think getting into a relationship helped Gareth a
lot.  We talked about what we'd done, when we were alone of course, but the
fact that he was paired up with a guy he quite clearly had a lot of
feelings for seemed to prevent further developments between the two of us.

At least in the short term...

===

Comments (please!): sebastian_wallace@yahoo.co.uk
Website: http://stories.remoworld.com

===