Date: Sun, 5 Oct 2003 04:49:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: Giovanni Mastrogiacomo <giomjrmastro@yahoo.com>
Subject: Midlife Madness

My brother is four years older than I am.  When I was five he was teaching
me how tie my shoes, at eight or nine; how to masturbate, at ten; how to
smoke, at twelve; how to drink, at fourteen; how to drive, and the list
goes on.  Just about every significant event in my life happened while my
brother was at my side; he was the dad I never had.

I don't even remember our Dad; he died in the Vietnam War.  Our mother of
course, had to work a lot so we, along with our siblings, sort of stumbled
through life as best we could.  Eventually my brother found the girl of his
wet-dreams and married her.  (She's actually a very nice woman.)

For several years I didn't get to see much of my brother, busy raising
children, working overtime and just getting on with the things of life.
But last year he turned fifty.  Not exactly old, but definitely past the
"youthful" stage.  Not a bad looking guy, the remains of a once
muscle-bound all around sports jock still visible, albeit a bit husky now.

I have always looked up to my brother like a dad.  Physically we're so
different that it was easy to see him has "the older man" because he's well
over six feet tall and was the very definition of muscle bear.  In fact I
was always afraid that I'd have back hair like his, and while on him it
looked masculine and sexy, on me, well, let's just say I'd look more like a
poodle in need of clipping.

I have to stand up straight to hit the five and a half foot mark.  Soaking
wet, jumping up and down on a scale, I couldn't reach 130 pounds if my life
depended on it.  I eat every bit as much food as my brother but my
metabolism burns through food like my first car burned gas.  People always
kid me about being a cute little Ken doll.

Yah, like that's a compliment.

Anyway, for the big bro's fiftieth birthday, we did the requisite birthday
bash and everything but I noticed he was doing some serious drinking that
night.  His wife is a teetotaler and in deference to her he'd given up his
Friday night beer-bashes and Football-drink guzzling so I knew something
was going on.  After the kids left or went to bed, then later, as people
started leaving the party (about midnight) and the mess-control duties
kicked in, I asked him if he wanted to take a walk.

"You're in need of air freshener and some sobriety, man, let's get you
outside for a while."

So we walked.  And we walked.  And we walked.  For a long time it was
quiet, both of us as well as in the neighborhood.  About a mile from his
house, at the school playground, we sat down on the swings; well he
squashed himself in as best he could anyway.  At last he started talking
about something real; we'd gone through all the throw away topics like
sports, jobs, mortgage payments and that sort of junk.

Talk about a mid-life crisis.  Chernobyl was a firecracker compared to the
meltdown he was having.  I won't go into everything but he had one serious
case of "I-shoulda-woulda-coulda-hada-thoughta-that."  Then he says he's
always been jealous of me!  What have I got to be jealous of?  He says I've
always been so outgoing and happy and I seem to be so sure of myself.

Me?  Yah, yah, right. Whatever.  A huh, you think so do ya?

Then he starts talking about being old and out of shape and, you know,
everything people say when everything seems wrong to them.  So I say
everything people say to people who are saying things like that.  Nice
wife, good kids, great job, and; "...you're not so out of shape.  You
still look good bud, I've always wanted a body like yours but I got trapped
in this pintsized version that makes people treat me like I'm a kid or
makes them scratch me off the wanna-have-sex-with list."

He says; "Come on.  You're a great looking guy.  I'm sure you've been
spinning around on half the dicks in the five-state area."

Wha-what?

"Oh get over it."  He says as my jaw drops into the sandbox.  "Everybody
knows you're gay, who cares?  Shit, lately I've thought about becoming gay
myself."

Ok, well, my brain is spinning around inside my skull.  My stomach just
turned inside out and suddenly the cool breeze became a blast furnace.

"Quit looking at me like that.  Get over yourself.  It's no big deal ya
know.  I'd suck your cock myself if I was gay.  You'd be a great husband
for anybody smart enough to figure out how to break into your closet."

Wha-what?

"Jesus Christ.  Is this new information for you or something?  You are NOT
going to tell me you're straight, are you?"

"I've never had sex with a man in my life!"  My feet carried me away.  I
had to move.  I had to breathe.

My brother heaved himself out of the swing, following me across the
baseball field toward the rapidly disappear protected, wildlife area.  (A
developer somehow managed to get a hold of it for yet one more
track-mansion neighborhood.)

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry.  I thought you were a fag!  You never talk about
girlfriends and your forty-six years old for Christ sake.  Tell me you're
not a virgin, please!"

I couldn't believe what was happening.  My whole world had been blown to
smithereens.  I was sweating and my hands were shaking so bad I crammed
them deep into the pockets of my shorts.  I stopped at this big old tree,
leaning into it, pressing my forehead against the cool bark.

My brother came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, bending to
rest his chin on my shoulder.  He spoke quietly into me ear and the
universe changed.  I had been catapulted into an alternate existence.  The
deep voice of a man whispering in my ear as his huge body pressed against
my back, his arms locking me tight against his front.  I spun around and
kissed him.

I didn't know I was going to do that.  We were both surprised but he didn't
pull away or break my jaw or anything.  He kept his arms around me and now
one of his big hands was on the back of my head, pressing me to him as our
tongues tied themselves in a knot.  My whole body melted against this man,
this big bear of a man that I no longer recognized.

I could feel his erection reaching out to me through his baggy nylon
shorts; (the kind basketball players wear).  We kissed forever.  My entire
body trembled; fear or excitement or both, I don't know.  Somehow, by the
time we ended up on the grass under that big old tree, our bodies were
naked, our hands covering and exploring every nook and cranny of the other.

I could feel his body heat searing me to the bone.  I felt like a tiny
mountain climber, swimming my way up through a forest of trees.  His body
was more hairy than I had remembered and it just made my erection that much
harder.  His warm mouth encasing my cock made me see stars even though my
eye were clamped shut.  What a feeling!  All the oceans of the globe washed
over me.

I lost myself.  Nothing existed except what I was feeling.  No sound, no
visual, no light, just sensuality; sexuality, passionate and at last
unleashed, gone wild like caged animals set free.  I don't know how long we
rolled around on the grass or if anyone might have seen us, it didn't
matter; no one else existed.

Massive, hairy tree-trunk legs trapped me, a large branch of that tree
poking me in the stomach, oozing liquid like it was giving back all the
water it had ever received.  Then I'm on my back, folded, a mountain
crushing down on me.  Sweat dripping, etching my skin as it slipped down my
sides.  My brain is panicked.  What's happening?  Something is pushing at
me; something is demanding I let it into my body.  AH!  Electrocution!  My
God!  It's too big, I can't contain it all!  Someone's gasping for breath.

The blazing heat of the piston stabs perfection into me, over and over.  My
cock, he's making it so that it's going to disintegrate with the impending
explosion but then the fuse is stopped and the piston plows into me again.
There's too much pleasure; I can't hold so much.  The Earth has tilted off
its axis; darkness throbs in and out where I should be seeing the world
around me.  It's too much; I'm dizzy.

Oh, oh, OH GOD!

I woke up wrapped in a mink coat, luxury beyond definition.  Oh, no wait,
it's a hairy man, my brother.  His big hand, my pillow.  His face shrunk
tight with concern.  Is he speaking?  Why can't I hear him?

"Hey, welcome back.  You ok?"

"What happened?"

"Well, a lot, but you passed out.  I thought I'd killed you.  I sort of got
carried away, sorry kiddo."

"I like it."

"Me too.  I've wanted to do that for years."

"Are you gay?"  I asked him, moving more onto me back, his wet, fur draping
across me, keeping me hot.

"No, but I learned a long time ago that sexual identity isn't one side or
the other of a coin, it's a location on a sliding scale, sort of a line
graph.  I've only had sex with a few guys in my life.  There's no
possibility of me giving up my wife and kids; I actually like my life."

"Mid-life crisis over?"

"Or just beginning.  You really, have never done this before, have you?"

"No.  Guinness Book of World Records; oldest living virgin."

"Well, forty-six years, that's a good run.  You ok?"

"Very.  But my ass is on fire."

"Oh, yah, I've heard that can be a bitch.  Never had to deal with that,
myself, sorry."

"You've got a big fuckin cock."  As I squirmed under him.

I haven't heard my brother laugh like that in years.

Our clothes were strewn across the field.  Had we been stripping all over
the place like that?  His nylons shorts had this HUGE wet spot.  The zipper
on my shorts was torn.  We couldn't find one of his shoes.

We slunk back to his house, ducking into shadows as cars passed by.  His
wife had gone to bed.  I drank three glasses of water.  He came down the
stairs with his gym bag.

"Come on, I left a note on her nightstand telling her I would be back
tomorrow, that we wanted to party some more."

I've always looked up to my brother.  He's been there for nearly every
significant event of my life.

We've become very close.