The Next Morning
I remember what I thought Steve had said to me the night before and I felt a bit panicked. Don't get me wrong, I love to fuck. But this? This is a whole other thing. Like, another universe.
I pulled myself from the bed and found my underwear and went downstairs looking for water. I was parched. And as I gulped down a glass, I could still taste jizz in my mouth and I realized it was both mine and his. I looked out the window to the back yard which looked all peaceful and quiet. There was bit of mist hanging over the lawn making it look all ghostly and magical.
I had another glass, then pissed liked a racehorse in the downstairs bathroom. I looked at my cock which had been in his hand a few hours before. And I remembered how fucking awesome it had felt. I closed my eyes, remembering his mouth, his tongue, his spit, his cum, his body. Holy shit.
I made my way upstairs feeling very strange, but still really tired. I decided to get in the other bed, not wanting to poke this sexual bear any more. I looked over at him and he had turned and was lying on his back. His dick was half-hard, laying sideways across his thigh. I could see dried semen on it, and on his belly. His brown hair was all over the place and his skin in the sunlight looked paler than usual. There was the evidence I couldn't deny. I hadn't dreamed it. He had jerked us off and I had eaten our cum and sucked his cock. It was all there in the front of my brain and it still scared me and turned me on like crazy.
I decided to get onto my side so I wouldn't have to look at him. I lay there for a while listening to him breathe until I managed to doze off.
When I woke up again, the sun was blasting in the window and the room was baking hot. I reached for my phone and saw that it was almost noon. Steve wasn't there. I had to piss again, so I got up and dug some lounge pants out of my knapsack and went to the bathroom again. I must have stood there for ten minutes. MDMA does that, right? It's kind of annoying.
As I stood watching the stream from my dick, I heard the sound of dishes and I could smell coffee. I was suddenly ravenous. The thought of eating was the best thing I could think of at that moment.
I made my way downstairs and realized I wasn't wearing a shirt, but then I realized I had sucked Steve's cock the night before, so it didn't really matter, did it?
I managed to croak from my dry throat, “Hey, Steve. Sleep ok?”
He turned from a pan of bacon and grinned at me. “Like a god-damned baby.”
“Sweet. Are we having eggs?”
“Yeah, and toast. Get yourself some coffee.”
As I poured a mug, I wondered if we were going to talk about the whole step-brother closeness thing. I put a bunch of sugar in my coffee and sat down. He was wearing those briefs again and nothing else. Was that meant to remind me or something? His ass looked distractingly firm and I had to look somewhere else. Finally I said, “What do you want to do today?”
Without turning he said, “Fucked if I know. I can barely think. We can just chill and play a video game or something? Is that cool?”
That sounded very cool. I had about one brain cell left at that point and the thought of making a decision beyond what we were going to eat for breakfast exhausted it completely. I took a gulp of coffee and said, “Yeah. I hear you. We'll just chill. The parents are back tomorrow?”
He turned and grinned. “Yeah. Late tomorrow. It's nice to have the place to myself. Or I guess ourselves.”
I had to agree. We had been teenagers together in that house, and it seemed like one or both of the parents was around and we couldn't get up to anything. Not that what we had done the night before would have been one of them.
He brought over a plate filled with good things and sat across from me. We wolfed down the food and gulped coffee as if we had been fasting for a week. But it hit the spot and I felt better.
We cleaned up and went to the family room and crashed on the big sofa and turned on a game that involved running away from some damn creature or another and using weapons to kill them. The same old shit. I lost terribly to him but that made sense since these games had never been my thing.
After he won three in a row, I threw the controlled down and said, “That's it. I'm done. Let's listen to some music.”
But Steve had other ideas, I was soon to discover. I went to the kitchen to get us more coffee and when I got back I saw on the screen – and it was one of those big television screens – a big cock going into someone's ass. I said, “What the hell, Steve?”
He looked a bit embarrassed, but said, “I want to see how it's done.”
I remembered what I thought I had heard the night before and realized I had heard correctly. I was speechless. He unfroze the video and the cock was thrusting with a lot of energy. It was all shiny with lube. I finally said, “Steve...I didn't think you were serious.”
Pausing the video, he looked at me for a second, then said, “Why not?”
His innocence annoyed me. “Because you're my fucking step-brother, that's why not!”
He swallowed and I could tell my anger got to him. “Yeah, but we're not actually related, right? It's just a formality. And I feel like it's inevitable after last night, don't you think?
And then the Steve from the night before was in the room. He slid those fucking boxer briefs down his strong legs and threw them across the room. He turned to me and to my amazement, reached down and pulled my lounge pants off then got in my lap with his ass sitting on my cock which was – you guess it – almost completely hard. The little fucker.
“Steve, what the hell? We can't do this. We just can't.”
He leaned down and took my face in his hands and got his face really close to mine so I could feel his breath on my skin. “Why not?”
“Because it's weird. It's freaky. I don't know.”
He grinned and licked my nose which irritated me more, but my cock seemed to like it because it jumped against him where my cock met the space between his balls and his hole. Fuck it felt good. As if in answer to what I said, he pushed his hips down and then circled them around so his crotch was essentially massaging my cock. I moaned in spite of myself.
He grinned and put his face in my neck as if he was resting but I heard his voice say, “See.”
Then he reached over and extracted something from behind the sofa cushion. I should have known, right? Of course he had planned this. He handed me a bottle of lube. Unopened. He grinned at me again and said, “I did some shopping.”
“Fuck, Steve! When the hell did you put that there?!”
He looked a little guilty again, but said, “This morning. I just hoped, I guess. I wasn't sure you'd be down for it. But after last night...”
He knew that I knew what the hell he was talking about. It's not like I could have denied how turned on I had obviously been, could I? But I said, “So why? Why did you hope?”
Now I had him. It was the question I think he was betting I wouldn't ask. But I did. There was silence. I could hear the sound of birds outside making a racket and a distant lawn mower. He swallowed and ran his hand down his belly to his cock which was, not surprisingly, hard as rock. There was a little pearl of clear liquid at the end that in normal circumstances I would totally have licked off. But not this time. I wanted an answer.
He finally looked at me, not letting go of his hard-on and said, “When you told me you were gay back when my dad and I first move in with you guys...I was like, fourteen, you were fifteen?”
I nodded. I remembered the conversation. He had been all chill and not fussed and it had felt really good. It kind felt like we bonded, since we barely knew each other at that point.
He continued, “Well, anyway, I just started wondering what it would feel like. I mean, not just to be fucked, but to do all the things. Like we did last night. And before you say anything about me being a closet case or something, all of that wondering was about you. Just you. I've never looked at another dude and felt this way. It's weird, right? I'm only gay for you. What the fuck is that all about?”
He had a good point. What the fuck was that all about? Only for me? I didn't understand. But what he was doing with his cock was becoming distracting. He was stroking it really slowly and I could feel his balls flexing on my groin which was making me horny as fuck.
But most of all, I didn't know what to say. Steve was gay for me and straight for the rest of the world? Was that even possible? Was that some fantasy he had that might lead to him accepting being bisexual? That would make sense, I suppose. He clearly has an unwavering interest in women. I remember coming home for Thanksgiving after I went to university and I barged into our room and caught him whacking off in front of his laptop where this chick was getting really intimate with herself. All you could see on the screen was her snatch and her fingers investigating it. Frankly, it was a bit nauseating. At least for me. In any case, I knew he wasn't making it up about liking women.
Finally I said with a sigh, “So you want to be fucked by me?”
“Fuck yeah, Mark. I want that cock of yours in me. I don't care if it hurts at first. I just want to experience it.”
He let go of his dick and picked up the little bottle and opened it. He slid back and said, “How much of this stuff do we need?”
It was starting to feel really surreal, but I guess I decided to go with it. I said, “Here...let me.”
I squeezed out a bunch on my hand and reached around to his ass. I said, “Sit up a little. I need access.”
He did, and, to my amazement, I found myself fingering Steve's asshole. I slid my finger in, getting things nice and slippery. I watched his face to see how he took it. He shut his eyes and moaned. I wasn't sure if was a moan of pleasure or not, but he didn't stop me. I slid four fingers in and stretched him a bit. He opened his eyes. “Don't mess around, Mark. Just fuck me!”
Where had all this desperation come from? I got my hands lubed again and put the bottle down and wrapped my hand around my cock until I was just as slippery. I though that he would either stop me and give up if it hurt too much, or he would be down with it.
I aimed my cock at his hole and said, “Push down like you're sitting on it. You get to control how fast this goes.”
He nodded, his eyes still closed, and did what I said. He pushed his hips down and my cock slipped past the ring of muscle and he very slowly impaled himself on me. When his ass made contact with my body and stopped, he was breathing heavily. I said, “You all right?”
He opened his eyes really wide as if he was surprised. “Fuck, Mark. Is this what it's like? To be fucked? Holy shit it's intense.”
I had to laugh. I ran my hand up his chest and back down, enjoying his smooth muscles. I said, “Yeah, it is. Especially the first time. But Steve, man, you took my dick like a champ. Is it painful?”
He didn't answer for a while, and instead, he lifted up a little and pushed himself back down. Then again. Each time he whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. But his cock was hard and there was a long stream of pre-jizz running from the end onto his hand. After a few minute of this, he said, “Yeah, it's starting to feel really nice. Really fucking nice, bro.”
I liked it when he called me bro. As if I was a bro, but he didn't seem to care that I wasn't. I was his step-brother, but his bro? But somewhere in the middle of it all, I decided that if I was going to fuck him, then I was going to fuck him. I pushed up and managed to flip him onto his back while my cock was still deep in him. He seemed surprised. I adjusted the angle of my thrusts, I pushed his legs out and bent forward, and my dick went deep. I guess I thought if this was going to happen, then I was going to do it properly.
I looked down at him, grinning. I said, “So this is how it should be, Steve. If you're going to get fucked, then you're going to get fucked.”
And I got my engines started. I pulled out and I watched my tool slide out of him, then I pushed it back fast. He made this sound that I can't quite describe. Something like a moan but also a gasp. He took hold of his cock and tugged it a few times while I did it again, and faster. Then faster. I lost the sense of what I was doing and more importantly, who I was doing it with. I looked down at him and he stared up at me, a little scared, a little vulnerable. I leaned down and kissed him once lightly, then pulled out and then jammed in again. And again. I kissed him a bit more intensely and even though my back was sore I wanted his mouth.
I sat up and he gasped, “Fuck, Mark. Fuck. This is wild. It hurts but I don't fucking care...”
I leaned down and kissed him a bunch, getting my tongue involved, biting his lip, sucking on his tongue. I had decided that I was going to fuck him as if he was just another guy, I was going to fuck the way I like to fuck any guy. And really, he was just another guy. If he wanted to know what it was like, then I was going to show him. I went faster and the sofa was complaining, even shifting a little as my body weight pushed us backward. I could hear the sticky sound of my cock pulled out of his ass, and his ragged breathing – and mine. I hooked my arms under his knees and pulled them up so I was looking down at him.
I was moving fast, and all I could do was feel his body taking me, all I could think about was my dick which felt as if it was on fire. I kept looking him in the eyes and I moved faster and faster as if I would explode if I slowed down which was the opposite problem because with a few more insane thrusts I said, “You want my cum, Steve? You're fucking going to get it.”
He gave me this look that seemed both surprised and filled with lust. He gasped, “Fucking do it, Mark!”
So I did. I kept moving, but my dick was spewing deep in him, and I kept fucking and I kept pouring cum into him. It was one of those time when sex is the best thing on the planet. I was gasping, making this high-pitched choking sound and I squeezed my eyes shut and arched my back as if cum was pouring through my cock from every part of my fucking body.
I finally stopped moving, barely able to breathe. And then you know what? There were more surprises. He grinned at me as if nothing had happened, but he pushed me off him. He said, “Mark. It's my turn!”
I could barely think, but he did something I totally didn't expect. He was on his knees and reached around and was obviously digging in his ass, because his hand appeared, wet with my cum, and smeared it on his cock, slicking it up with my jizz. Then he did it again and again until his cock was slathered with my juice and he finally said, “Get on your knees, Mark. I'm going to fuck you into next week.”
I got on my knees. What else could I do? He held my hips and pushed his cum-coated dick into me. He knew I had done it many times, so he wasn't gentle, he just rammed that thing in so hard it almost pushed me over.
And then he immediately started to go. I imagined he fucked women this way and I almost felt sorry for them. Almost. Because it felt amazing. Even though I had just filled him with jizz, I wanted to do it all over again. My dick stayed hard and I shut my eyes and let him take me. That was the word. He took me to another dimension and I wanted him to.
He fucked me so hard there was smacking sound as his body hit my ass. He gripped my hips really tightly and I could hear his breathing getting harsh and he was swearing under his breath and I heard the occasional 'fuck' and 'motherfucker' and who knows what else.
I could barely breath, my body was catching fire all over again. I jacked my dick and I didn't care if I could cum again or not, it just felt amazing. I wished I could turn and watch him, but I was in no position to complain. Steve, even at his tender age, was an experienced fucker. He had done this before. Not with guys, of course, but his technique was well-honed.
Then I heard his voice. “You want my cum, Mark? You want it?”
The answer was obvious, but I said, “Fuck, yeah, Steve. Give it to me!”
And he didn't waste time because he starting yelling, and he gripped my hips so tightly it hurt and with three long, deep thrusts that almost pushed me over, he filled my ass. He pushed one more time and then stopped, his cock deep in me, still spewing, I assumed. He leaned forward and rested his head on my back. He felt hot and I could feel each deep breath as he took it.
Finally he pulled out. My asshole felt tender and wet. I turned and lay on my back. He was still on his knees, his eyes closed, his dick hard and shiny and there were streaks of cum on it. I sat up and took the whole thing in my mouth, tasting all the juice, then fell back. I couldn't do any more. I was spent.
He sat back on the other end of the sofa, still breathing heavily. He looked at me a moment and the grin came back. “Fucking awesome, dude! That was awesome! I almost wish I was gay so I could do that all the time, for fuck's sake!”
I laughed. It was all I could do, but then I said, “But you like women and I'm sure they won't mind being fucked like that if you ask nicely.”
“Yeah. It's true. I can think of a few who would totally be down with it.”
We lay for a while, just breathing. Our legs were touching and it felt nice. Simple contact. Finally he got off the sofa and went and got us some water. I watched him walk away, watched his strong ass that I had just fucked, his muscular legs, his chiseled back. And when he returned, I admired the cock that had taken me, had filled me. He handed me the glass and sat back on the other end of the sofa.
I drained the glass. I glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was late afternoon. We had fucked the day away. We lay for a while, talking about high school and living in our town. We finally got dressed and made dinner. We didn't talk about it, didn't refer to the fact that we had fucked each other. It just felt like it always had with him. Comfortable and easy.
We watched a movie and drank some wine. The movie was lame, but we laughed like we always did at stupid movies, rewriting the script so it was nuts and silly. It was like any other evening with Steve. And I think I wanted it that way. We had done this thing together that he clearly had wanted to do for years, and now that it was done, we went back to being step-brothers again, step-brothers who hadn't filled each other's asses with cum. Who hadn't kissed or held held each other's cocks. Just guys.
We went to bed – in our own beds – and I slept really well. It felt like it had when we were younger. Comfortable, safe, easy. I woke up at one point and he was snoring. It was a sound I realized I missed and I went back to sleep.
I woke up with the sun in my eyes. I looked to the other bed, but Steve was up and the bed made. In lots of ways, I felt relief. I got the sense we had done what needed to be done and now that it was out of his system – and mine – we would never need to do it again. It was a singular experience.
I got dressed and went down to the kitchen where I found Steve sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and looking at his phone. He smiled – not grinned – at me and said, “Let's go out for breakfast. We haven't done that in ages.”
It used to be something we did as teenagers all the time, and usually with a few friends in tow. But this time it was just the two of us. The diner was a few blocks away and we walked through the quiet, steamy, Sunday morning streets, talking about music and the ridiculous president south of the border.
We sat at a table by the window in the sun and, because the diner was air conditioned, enjoyed the bright light. Halfway through my pancakes, I went to the washroom and as I was standing there, watching my stream go into the urinal, the door opened behind me and then Steve was beside me. He looked over at me with that same little smile and I knew something was up. He pulled out his cock and started to piss, but when he was done, he didn't put it away. He said, “Don't some guys get off on this? The whole bathroom hook-up thing?”
I tried to look angry, but I was trying not to laugh and trying not to show that my dick was paying attention. “Yeah, Steve. Some guys are into it. So?”
Without another word, he pulled me into a stall and sat down on the toilet and grabbed my prick, stroking it slowly, looking up at me, all innocent and wide-eyed. But he was anything but. I shut the door as he licked the end of my cock which must still have had some piss on it, then proceeded to swallow it whole. For a guy who had never sucked cock, I was impressed. He had some trouble with his teeth and he gagged a few times when I pushed him down on it, but he did pretty well. I wasn't sure if he would take a mouthful of cum, so I prepared to pull out and jizz on the floor, but he was a trouper. He kept my cock in his mouth, running his tongue around it and I came with a gasp. It was one of those short, sharp orgasms that take you by surprise and cause you to almost black out. I grabbed his head and spewed my load into his throat. He choked and almost spat me out, but I kept him on it.
I said, “Swallow, Steve. It's easier that way.”
And he did, the little brat swallowed his first load. Impressive.
I pulled my cock out and put it back in my pants. I wondered if I should return the favour, but he seemed content. I opened the door, checking first to make sure we were alone, and we walked out of the bathroom all innocence. If only they knew what the two guys at the front table had done in their bathroom. We sat in the bright light, sipping our coffee and talking about the usual shit we always talked about.
Later that day we watched a baseball game. Yeah, so sue me. Take away my gay card. I like baseball. It was fun and easy. No mention of the cum we had traded. Just guys hanging out. I got ready to go at around five and gave him big hug. He said into my ear, “Thanks Mark. That was awesome. It's like we're closer now, you know?”
And I did know. I did feel closer to him. He looked at me a second then surprised me by kissing my cheek, all chaste and friendly. He said, “Later, dude.”
On the way back to the city, I kept thinking about what we had done and what it meant. What did it mean? But the truth was, I did feel like we were closer. I trusted him. It's not like I didn't before, but now it felt like we were in it together.
I went back to my life and my second year. I saw our parents and Steve regularly, but nothing happened and neither one of us referred to the weekend we had had.
He got a girlfriend when he went to university – not the one I was at in M – and it seemed like he was settling into something really nice. I met her a few times. She was insanely smart and beautiful and I was happy for him. They basically moved in together by Christmas and she came to our place for the holidays. I really liked her and I could see that they worked well together. He told me he was in love in a way he had never been before, which made me happy. A little jealous if I'm honest, because I hadn't met a guy yet who made me feel that way. Oh, I pined over this dude from my Organic Chemistry class, but I might as well have been invisible.
Sure, I hooked up regularly. That was a game I could always play. But Steve really showed me what a good relationship could look like. Until March of that year at least. Classes were almost done and apparently Susan had suddenly decided to end it. Out of the blue. Or so I assumed.
I know this because Steve called me late one night when I was knee-deep in homework and the dude was crying into the phone. I had never heard him cry before. That really floored me. I said, “You want me to come to K? Would that help?”
He sniffled and said, “Yeah. That would be awesome.”
So I packed up a few things and got a train to K. Seems simple, right? Just a guy going to help out a guy, or in this case a step-brother. Yeah, well. It was more complicated than that.
