Since I could remember, I had always lived with my two older brothers, Zac and Henry, and my father, Hugo, in a modest house in the city.
My father, a former army sergeant, had always been my role model growing up. He was the strongest, most muscular man I knew. Even though he had been out of the army for years, his body still retained its sculpted physique from years of rigorous training. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a chiseled jawline that could have easily graced the cover of a men's fitness magazine. His deep brown eyes were filled with wisdom and a quiet strength that I had always admired.
Right now, as I sit with my father on the couch, he's engrossed in watching some sports game on TV, shouting encouragement and insults at the players in equal measure. I, on the other hand, have my nose buried deep in a book, escaping into a world far removed from the testosterone-fueled environment I seem to be constantly surrounded by.
My brothers, Zac and Henry, are both older than me. They're both muscular like our father, but in different ways. Zac has always been more of a lean, athletic build, while Henry has inherited more of Hugo's sheer brute strength. They both tower over me, and especially Zac took a liking in reminding me of that constantly.
At least Henry was kind to me, even if he didn't quite understand why I liked to read or paint or anything that wasn't sports-related. He wasn't the brightes, but I appreciated his company nonetheless.
As I'm lost in my book, I can't help but steal glances at my father from time to time. He's so strong and powerful, yet there's a gentleness about him when he's with me. It's like he enjoys the fact that at least one of his sons is a bit more... refined.
I know I'm lucky to have him, and I do my best to make his life easy. I cook for him, clean the house, and even help him with chores around the yard. In exchange, he's always been supportive of my interests, even if he doesn't quite understand why I like to read or lern or anything that isn't sports-related.
"Dylan," I heard my brother Zac shout from upstairs, his voice echoing through the house, "come here for a sec!" I sighed inwardly, knowing what was coming. I put my book down and reluctantly made my way up the creaky old staircase. When I reached the top, Zac was standing in the doorway of the laundry room, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.
"What do you want, Zac?" I asked, trying to sound as calm and confident as possible.
"I can't find my football gear," Zac growled, his deep voice reverberating through the laundry room. "You do all the laundry and still can't manage to keep track of my stuff?"
I rolled my eyes, trying to contain my annoyance. "Zac, I swear, you're the laziest person I know. You can't even be bothered to look for your own stuff. Be thankfull I even do your laundry for you." I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance.
He scowled at me, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't start with that 'lazy' shit again. I'm just asking you to do your job, and you know damn well you're the one who does the laundry. Now show me where the hell my gear is, or I swear to God I'll..." His voice trailed off menacingly, but I knew it was just empty bluster. I rolled my eyes.
"Fine, fine," I sighed, leading him into the laundry room. The familiar smell of bleach and detergent filled my nostrils. I walked over to the hamper where I had put his dirty laundry and began rummaging through it. "It's all in here," I said, gesturing to a pile of dark blue and red clothes. "Your practice jersey, shorts, socks... everything you need."
Zac scowled again, but this time it seemed less threatening. "Why not just put it in my drawer while you're at it?" he grumbled, not meeting my eyes. I bit my tongue and resisted the urge to point out that he was the one who left it in the hamper in the first place. Instead, I replied, "Every normal 26-year-old man I know does his own laundry. You're the one who's still living with your dad and relying on your little brother to do everything for you. Just be thankfull for once and take care of your own crap."
"Whatever," he mumbled, already turning away to head back downstairs. "You do what you want, Dylan." He slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the laundry room.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself down. It wasn't like I enjoyed doing Zac's laundry any more than he did. I just couldn't stand the way he acted like he was some sort of god's gift to sports. The guy couldn't even keep track of his own gear, and he had the nerve to act like I was the one who was lazy.
I glanced around the laundry room. There was still plenty of room for another load, so I decided to focus on that for a moment. It was better than letting my mind rage on about the never-ending pile of dirty clothes or the fact that I was the only one in this house who seemed to give a damn about keeping things clean.
I busied myself by selecting some of Zac's clothes that laid on the floor beside his hamper, sorting them into a pile. His dirty practice jersey, a pair of worn shorts, some jockstraps and equally grimy socks. As I placed them into the washing machine, I couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance course through me. Zac's attitude was really starting to get to me, but at the same time, it was kind of... sexy. The way he strutted around like he owned the place, the way he talked down to me, it was almost like he was daring me to challenge him.
And then there was that underwear thing. I knew it was wrong, I really did, but every time I saw his underwear lying around, my mind would inevitably wander to the thought of sniffing them. It was a twisted little fantasy that I couldn't seem to shake, and it only served to get more intense whenever he was around. It was like his scent was ingrained in every piece of clothing he owned, and it only made the urge worse.
As I closed the washing machine door, I found myself wondering what Zac would do if he ever found out about this weird little kink of mine. Would he be disgusted? Amused? Or would he actually be turned on by the idea of someone wanting to get so close to him, wanting to breathe in his scent and feel his worn underwear against their skin?... I shook my head, trying to get rid of my own fantasies instead of projecting them onto my own brother.
I focused on the rest of the laundry, trying to push the unwanted thoughts from my mind. I didn't want to dwell on them any more than I had to, at least not now.
I finished up and was about to head back downstairs, but I paused in the hallway. I enjoyed spending time with my dad, but did I really want to hear more football noises in the background while reading?
No, I decided. I wanted some peace and quiet. I wanted to read my book in peace. So instead, I went to my room. It was small and cozy, with a comfy bed and a big window that looked out over the city. I threw myself onto the bed and grabbed my book, eager to lose myself in the pages.
Some time later, I heard Zac's car roar up the driveway, signaling he was on his way to practice. I sighed, stretching out on the bed. My body ached from sitting in one position for so long, and my eyes felt heavy from staring at the words on the page. But even though I was exhausted, a small part of me was relieved that he was gone. I'd had enough of his attitude for one day.
I closed my book and glanced around my room, feeling a sudden urge to leave my room and actually get out of the house for a while. The thought of spending more time with my dad sounded nice, but I didn't want to be a total hermit.
I quickly changed out of my sweatpants and into a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater, then grabbed my phone. I sent Tory a quick text to let her know I was free, and then headed downstairs.
As I made my way down the stairs, I realized that the house was eerily quiet. The livingroom was empty; the television off and my dad nowhere to be found. But I knew better than to think I might be alone at home. It was a rare occasion after all.
A secod later I heard noises out of the garage, and my suspicions were confirmed. With nothing better to do, I decided to go check it out. The garage door was slightly ajar, and as I pushed it open, I peered inside. My dad and Zac were there, lifting weights and grunting with each lift. My dad was wearing his usual gym attire of a pair of loose shorts and a tank top, while Zac had on a pair of track pants and a T-shirt. They both looked up as I entered, and I could see the surprise on their faces.
"Hey, Dylan. What brings you out here?" my dad said, his voice a bit out of breath.. I could see the sweat glistening on his forehead, and his muscles rippled beneath his skin as he lifted the weights. It wasn't unusual for him to work out in the garage, but it was rare for me to see him andHenry lifting together.
Henry, on the other hand, seemed afocused on his task. He was breathing hard and his face was flushed as he lifted the weights with an ease that even my dad couldn't match. His muscles bulged under his clothes, and I couldn't help but feel a tiny thrill of admiration for his strength. It was almost mesmerizing to watch him move.
"I just thought I'd get some fresh air," I said casualy. "You know, get out of the house for a bit."
My dad nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Well, I'm glad you're getting out of the house too." He turned back to Henry to make sure he didn't need a spot for his next lift, but Henry seemed to be handling it just fine on his own.
As I watched him lift the weight, I wondered how much he could really bench.
"Hey, Henry," I said interested. "How much can you bench by now?"
He glanced at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "About three fifty," he replied, his voice steady.
I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
My dad let out a low whistle. "He really got only the best genes from me," he said with a laugh, nudging me playfully and added a wink. "At least in terms of strenght, that is. You know, Henry here's been working really hard. It's impressive."At least when it comes to physical strength. We both know that what he lacks in intelligence has ended up with you."
I couldn't help but smile at his words, recalling the countless times my dad made sure that I didn't felt left out, despite my lack of interest in sports. He would always weight my intelligence equal to theyer athletics.
"Well, you're not doing so bad yourself, Dad," I said, trying to deflect the attention away from Henry. "You're still in great shape."
My dad smiled proudly, flexing his bicep for me to see. "Thanks, buddy. I try to stay active, you know. It's important for your old man to keep up with the young'uns."
"Oh, don't worry about that dad," I said, "You've always been a good-looking guy." I hesitated for a moment, wanting to push his ego a little more. "And I'm not just saying that because you're my dad. You really do look great." He beamed with pride, puffing out his chest slightly.
I glanced over at Henry, who had just finished his set and was now taking a breather, wiping the sweat from his brow. He caught me looking and gave me a small nod, his usual stupid smile playing on his lips. He really wasn't that bad of a guy, I thought, despite his lack of brains. He was strong, dedicated...and let's face it, easy on the eyes.
"So, how's college, kiddo?" my dad asked, changing the subject. "You enjoying your classes?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, they're alright. It's just so much reading. And the assignments...ugh. I don't know how people have the time for all that." I paused, thinking for a moment. "But I guess it's close to you guys, so I'm not really complaining."
My dad chuckled. "Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you like, kiddo. You know we love having you around." He glanced at Henry, who was now watching us intently. "And who knows, maybe you'll find someone nice at college to take your mind off of all that homework."
I rolled my eyes. "Dad, please. You're not helping."
"What do you mean, I'm not helping?" he asked with a laugh. "I'm just trying to make you feel better. You know, point out the positive things in your life."
I rolled my eyes again, but couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, right. Like anyone would want to go out with me. I mean, I'm not exactly the most social butterfly in the world."
Henry, who had been listening intently, chimed in, "You may not be as manly as us, but you're good-looking in a cute way."
My dad snorted, "Oh, really? You think so, Henry? You know you can't just say that to anyone."
Henry grinned, unfazed. "Well, he is. And I'm just being honest. Besides, it's not like he's in competition with us or anything. We're all just here to support each other, right?"
"He is right Dad," I told my father, glancing over at Henry. "And honestly, it's fine. You're not intruding or anything."
My father looked unconvinced, but dropped the subjekt anyway. "Alright guys, if you're done here I'll go take my shower. And please, don't forget to stretch properly before you go Henry. You don't want to pull any muscles." With a small nod, he turned and walked back inside the house.
As he disappeared into the house, I glanced over at Henry, who was already gathering up his stuff. His massive arms flexed as he moved, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have those muscles wrapped around me...or ontop of me. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the inappropriate thoughts.
I couldn't help but feel a little guilty for enjoying the idea of winding him up. I glanced over at him as he finished packing his gym bag, his broad back flexing as he lifted the weight. There was something undeniably attractive about him in that moment, despite his obvious lack of intelligence. Maybe it was the sheer strength he possessed or the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin. Or maybe it was just because he was so easy to tease.
With a shake of my head, I reminded myself that I shouldn't be thinking like that. He was my brother after all. But the moment he turned towards me, I couldn't help but notice the massive bulge forming in his sweatpants. It seemed to be growing with every step he took, straining against the fabric. It was so obvious, I couldn't believe he didn't realize it.
As if sensing my gaze, Henry glanced over at me and grinned. "What?" he asked innocently.
I felt my cheeks heat up as my eyes darted away, unable to meet his gaze. "Nothing," I muttered.
Henry chuckled and walked over to me, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he moved. He laid his arm over my shoulder for a moment, his warm, sweaty touch making me shiver slightly. I couldn't help but breathe in deeper, taking in his scent from the recent workout. It was intoxicating, heady, and it only served to heighten the strange sensation in my groin.
"You okay there, little brother?" he asked, his voice concerned. I felt my cheeks flush even more as I struggled to find the words to reply. I glanced away, trying to focus on something else, but the scent of him was everywhere. It was driving me crazy.
"I'm fine," I stammered, my voice coming out higher-pitched than I'd intended. "Just a little warm, that's all." It was an obvious lie, but enough for Henry to believe. He smiled down at me, "Allright then, don't take too long in there, alright? I feel like I'm starving already."
With one last pat on my shoulder, he released me and walked out, his footsteps echoing against the concrete leading to the house. I watched him go, taking in the way his muscles flexed and moved with each step, the slight bulge in his sweatpants now gone. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a brother like him, for some other activitys...
As I turned back to the house, my mind began to wander. I wasn't in the mood for some fancy dish, so I decided on a simple and easy chicken recipe with a side to make for him. The smell of fresh herbs and spices filled the kitchen as I chopped, minced, and stirred, lost in thought. My fingers moved automatically, my mind elsewhere.
Something about the idea of cooking for Henry, or anyone really, made me feel...oddly satisfied. I couldn't quite place it, but there was a certain comfort in the act, a sense of purpose. Perhaps it was because he had always been so supportive. Or maybe it was just that I enjoyed pleasing people, making them happy with something as simple as a home-cooked meal.
As I seasoned the chicken, I hear the stairs creak as Henry makes his way down. His footsteps are heavy and deliberate, each step echoing through the quiet house. I can't help but feel a little flutter in my stomach as I think about him coming down for his meal.
"Smells great in here!" he calls out as he enters the kitchen, his wet hair slicked back from his forehead. He walks over to the counter and leans against it, stretching his arms above his head. "You know, you really should start charging me rent for all this amazing food you keep making me."
I can't help but smile as I continue to stir the chicken, watching his muscles flex and move beneath his skin with each movement. I eyed him up and down, he only wore shorts, still damp from his shower. He's the type of man who could easily get away with wearing nothing at all, but even just in shorts, his physique is nothing short of breathtaking. His abs, corded and defined, lead down to a V-shape that disappears into the shorts, and his shoulders, broad and powerful, are the perfect canvas for his well-earned tan.
We chatted for a while until I finished cooking, then ate in comfortable silence. When we were done, I put the rest back in the fridge so Zac and my dad could eat when they got hungry.
"Hey, do you want to play some video games tonight?" Henry asks, his voice breaking me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even realized that he stood behind me, watching me clean up the kitchen. I try to keep my cool as I turn to face him.
"Um, sure. What do you want to play?" I manage to reply, trying not to sound too uninterested. The truth is, I've never been much of a gamer. I've always preferred reading. But I want to make Henry happy, and I know how much he enjoys gaming.
Henry grins, revealing a dimple in his cheek that I hadn't noticed before. "I was thinking we could play some co-op. You know, something easy where we can chat and hang out at the same time?"
I nod. "Sure, that sounds fun." I'm not sure why I agreed to play video games with him tonight. Maybe it was because I wanted to make him happy, but deep down, I knew I simply wanted to eye him up some more.
Henry leads the way upstairs, his long strides easily eating up the distance between the kitchen and his bedroom. I follow behind, my eyes taking in the way his muscles flex and move with each step. The man truly is a sight to behold.
He plops down on his bed, gesturing for me to sit beside him. I oblige, trying not to stare at his defined chest.
"So, what do you feel like playing?" I ask, trying to keep my thoughts in check.
Henry grins. "I thought we could play some zombie. It's a really fun game, and there's a campaign mode where you can just hang out and chat while you play."
I nod, trying to seem interested. I've never really played video games with someone before, so I figure it'll be an experience. "Cool. Do you want to play as the same character or different ones?"
Henry shrugs. "Eh, either way. You can be the girl and I'll be the dude."
"Oh, okay," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant as I think about how close we're sitting. My heart skips a beat when I notice his crotch area. Even relaxed and sprawled out on the bed like this, I can see the outline of his dick tenting the fabric of his shorts.
I casually reach out to pick up the controller, my fingers brushing against his as I do so. He doesn't seem to notice, but the contact makes my skin tingle. "So, how do I play?" I ask, trying to sound innocent.
Henry laughs, his breath hot against my neck. "You just push the buttons and move the sticks. It's pretty simple." He takes my hand in his and places it on the controller, showing me where everything is.
As we start playing, I quickly get the hang of things. The game is easy enough to follow, so I had time to focus on Henry as he sat beside me. His massive arm brushed against mine whenever he moved the controller, sending little sparks of desire shooting through my body. I couldn't help but notice the way his breath would hitch sometimes when something particularly intense happened on the screen.
I smile to myself as I continue to play, pretending to be not as good at the game as I really am. The truth is, I'm actually enjoying the chance to touch Henry and admire his body up close. His thighs are massive, and I can't help but feel a wave of desire every time I brush against them. I got bolder and started to inch closer to him, my body pressed against his. Occasionally, I'd let my hand stray from the controller, tracing a finger along his taut stomach nefore resting my hand on his thigh.
He doesn't seem to notice my flirtatious advances, and I have to wonder if it's because he's too focused on the game or if he's just oblivious. I decide to take a risk and whisper in his ear, "Do you want to show me how to do that move?"
Henry startles slightly at my voice, but then laughs. "Oh, sure." And just like that, he's behind me, his hand wrapped around mine on the controller. His other arm presses against my side, and I can feel the heat from his body through his shirt.
I smile to myself, trying to play it cool as he guides my hand on the controller. His breath is hot against my neck, and I can feel the hard length of his dick pressing against my lower back. It's huge, even through the fabric of his shorts. I wonder what it would feel like, skinned against my skin.
As he presses closer, his hand brushing against my chest through my shirt, I can't help but arch my back into him. It feels so good, I want more. I pretend to stumble, letting my body fall into his, and I can feel his erection pressing even harder against my back.
"Thanks," I breathe, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the contact. His hand is so big, and I can feel every inch of it pressed against me.
As we play, he begins to move more of his body against mine, grinding his hips against my ass. It feels so good. I was sure he didn't mean to do it, but still did it put of pure instinct. It's like he can't help himself.
He pulls away for a moment, his breathing labored, and I feel the loss of contact keenly. "I think I'm done with gaming for the day," he says, before pulling away entirely. I watch as he straightens, his massive frame towering over me, and then he turns to face me.
I can't help but notice the way his eyes travel over my body, taking in my body. He seemed confused and uncertain. He clearly thinks it was just his mistake, not knowing I'd been leading him on this whole time.
"Hey can you shut down the Xbox, when you leave?" He ask, already walking towards the ensuite bathroom, clearly trying to hide his growing errection.
I smile to myself as I get off the bed and walk over to the Xbox. I probably wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't known he had one, but the way he walked gave it off. There's a certain swagger to him that just screams "I've got a big dick," and I can't help but be drawn to that. It's not like I'm some sort of size queen or anything, but there's just something about this guy's body that's so damn sexy.
I power down the console and turn around, finding him leaning against the bathroom door, trying to hide his arousal. He looks a little embarrassed, but I can tell he's also curious about what just happened between us.
"See you later, Dylan," he says, still not quite meeting my eye, before closing the bathroom door and disappearing inside.
I can't help but feel a rush of excitement as I head for my room. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, and I can't shake the thought of him. The way he moved against me, the feel of his body... It turned me on so much. I close the door to my room and sink down onto my bed, already feeling the familiar ache in my groin.
As I touch myself, I think about him some more. His broad shoulders, his strong arms... I imagine him touching me, kissing me. My fingers move faster, and I arch my back into the bed, moaning softly. It's as if I can feel him here with me, even though he's in another room.
I picture him stripping out of his clothes, revealing his muscular chest and that giant cock I know he has. I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to have that thickness inside of me. Would it hurt? Would it fill me up completely? I wonder if he's touching himself right now, thinking about me the same way I am about him.
As I touch myself faster, my mind drifts away from these thoughts and back to the feel of his body against mine. His strong hands, his broad chest...I moan loudly, my hips bucking against the mattress as I reach my climax.
My fingers let go of my dick and I roll over onto my back, panting heavily. The rush of pleasure subsides, leaving me aching for more. I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart.
