22nd April 2003: A brother story that didn’t really work out and so remains incomplete. A young straight lad goes to visit his gay brother and his boyfriend and is curious about how the two men’s relationship is so different from what he has with girls. It has all the right ingredients for a good story but it just didn’t fire me up enough to want to finish it off.

New Older Brother
by Maverick


I’d known about Christopher being gay since I was thirteen or fourteen. It was simply an accepted fact in my family; the established way things were in among the three of us brothers. Christopher was the gay eldest one; I was the straight one in the middle; Michael was the youngest of us who didn’t seem interested in anything that didn’t have a Pentium 4 processor in it.

It wasn’t until I actually saw Christopher being gay – doing things with another man that only a gay guy would – that his sexuality became relevant to me. Until then it was just a case of me thinking, “Chris dates other boys like I date girls,” and that was where it ended. But after that weekend when I saw him being intimate with another man – the two of them really understanding and enjoying each other’s bodies – that I realised what an important difference his sexuality was.  

I’d underestimated his being gay: accepted the standard line that what he happened to get up to in bed had no impact on our relationship as friends and brothers. I’d dismissed his sexuality as if it was as inconsequential as the fact we had different coloured eyes. But I’d been drastically wrong to have done so. I’d shown a complete disregard for how unique and special his sexuality made our relationship.  

But let’s go back a little, and let’s start this from the beginning. Let’s tell you what happened first and then maybe – I hope – you’ll understand where I’m coming from.  

It was a couple of years ago and I was nineteen. Halfway through my undergrad degree: revelling in life at Nottingham University; drinking as many pints, smoking as much dope and screwing as many girls as were physically possible. Being a typical nobhead student, basically, but at the time I’d felt like the coolest guy who’d ever lived.  

Christopher was down at Bristol setting himself up as a lawyer. He was four years older than me and had completed his training at the time I was completing my A-Levels, so by the time I was in my second year of Uni, he was getting fairly well established in his practice.  

He’d met a guy called Simon who was of a similar age in a similar position in a nearby law firm and the two of them had really hit it off. One week, Christopher was phoning me giggling like a teenager about the fact Simon had stayed over with him; the next they were looking for a house to buy together. Well, maybe there was a slightly longer interval than just a week, but it had certainly seemed rather rushed and impulsive.  

I remember going home one weekend and my mother confiding in me that she was worried about what Christopher was getting into. He’d had loads of boyfriends before, some more brief than others, but had never committed himself so quickly and so dramatically as he had within weeks of meeting Simon.  

“He’s a big boy now,” I’d laughed. “And he’s a lawyer. He knows what he’s getting himself into.”  

A few weeks later, after the big move, she wrote me a letter telling me she’d been to visit them in their new house. By now she adored Simon; had seem to be as besotted with him as Christopher clearly was after just a matter of hours of knowing him.  

“He’s perfect for Christopher,” her letter read. “They’re so well suited, so obviously happy around each other. And he’s so attractive – I can understand exactly what Christopher sees in him!”  

She had raved about Simon. He’d been the perfect co-host, welcoming her like an old friend, entertaining and accommodating her almost as well as Christopher himself had. The fact that he was sharing a bedroom with her son after so brief a courtship seemed matterless now; she accepted him as completely and as confidently as Christopher clearly did.  

It was a few weeks later, during a bank holiday weekend as I approached my exams, that Christopher had invited me to stay with him and Simon.  

“Bring Leah across with you, if you like,” he said on the phone.  

I laughed. “Leah’s ancient history now, mate!”  

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Who’s the latest object of your undying love, then?”  

“Well there isn’t one, really. No-one I could cope with for an entire weekend, anyway.”  

“Well just come down on your own,” he suggested. “That would probably be less traumatising for Simon, anyway…”  

I laughed again. “Is he getting traumatised? Tell him he doesn’t need to be worried about me. If you like him, chances are that I will…”  

“Well, he’s not exactly traumatised. But I think he’d prefer to meet you on your own without any additional complications. That’s kind of what I meant…”  

“Well, I’ll do that then. You guys can have me all to yourselves.”  

Christopher laughed. “I won’t quite put it like that when I tell Simon. I know from his reaction to seeing photos of you how over-excited he’d get…”  

Christopher and I had always pissed around like that together; always made jokes that our partners fancied each other. It was based partly on fact: we’re both attractive guys but in different ways. My girlfriends often get interested in Chris as a slightly taller, more academic version of me. Christopher’s boyfriends almost always start gushing over me as a blond, more athletic version of him.  

The two of us have always found this funny. Since there’s no possibility, given our opposite sexualities, of one of us ever cheating on the other, it’s always been a source of amusement rather than jealousy.  

But after that weekend, the jokes we made together would change. They’d still be there – in fact we ended up becoming a lot more relaxed and comfortable with each other – but they became less centred around how attractive our partners found each other and far more based around how attractive we, as brothers, found each other.  

It seemed to be a natural progression from what happened that weekend, and it went hand-in-hand with my realisation that I was – from Chris’s perspective – a desirable man as a well as a kid brother.  

But let’s get back to the story.  

I went over to Christopher and Simon’s on my motorbike and got there on the Friday afternoon.  

They turned out to be a wonderful couple and I could understand almost immediately why my mother had enjoyed staying with them so much. They had similar, easy-going personalities and obviously enjoyed each other’s senses of humour enormously. Having said, that, they had enough differences to set them slightly apart from one another and for them to have deviating opinions and perceptions on things. Their company was a warm and friendly mix of Christopher’s affectionate, perhaps slightly niave, view of the world and Simon’s sharper and more cynical outlook.  

I liked how they were together and felt pleased that my older brother had found such a well-suited guy to spend his time with. Their impatience to move in together and to spend as much time as they could together was easily understandable and I began, almost, to find myself envious that I’d never – until then – found a girl with whom I had a similar rapport  

They were well-matched physically as well as mentally. They were both slim and tall, and both would be objectively described as handsome but for different reasons.  

Chris had a pale complexion, with light brown, slightly curly hair and warm brown eyes. His physique was firm and nicely toned but not what you’d call muscular; it came from a twice weekly swim and the odd game of squash.  

Simon, on the other hand, had an Italian background and was an avid climber. His complexion was darker, and he had jet black hair and deep brown eyes. His body was well-developed, and both his broad chest and his thick hairy arms betrayed his strength through the thin white cotton shirt he was wearing that evening. Chris always went for hairy, masculine-looking guys and so Simon would be pretty much ideal for him in that respect.  

They cooked me a meal together while we chatted and Simon and I got to know each other. They had this amusing way of bickering with each other, of comically and gently putting the other guy down, and obviously enjoyed sharpening their skills as lawyers against each other while knowing when to rein themselves in.  

There was clearly a lot of affection there too, though. They obviously loved being around each other and kept discretely glancing and grinning at each other like they couldn’t believe the other guy had really turned up in their lives. And, when they didn’t know I was looking, I spotted the odd peck on each other’s cheeks and gentle pats on each other bums.  

They served me up a fantastic meal: I was kind of overwhelmed.  

I said, “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble, guys.”  

Simon smiled. “Hey, it was no trouble. It’s cool having you here. Any time you need a break from Uni, or in the vacations… any time you like you can come and visit…”  

Chris joined in, “And that includes your girlfriends too… we’d love to have you round, Jono…”  

I was really flattered by the invite – Chris and I had always got on well and I suppose I’d always been worried that things might change when he found “Mr Right” – and readily accepted.  

When Simon had popped to the toilet, Chris inevitably asked what I thought of him.  

I grinned. “You guys are so right for each other…”  

He beamed at me. Since we’d been little kids, my opinion had always meant a lot to him. I’d met quite a few of his boyfriends, and lets just say I’d had to be a lot more diplomatic when asked for my opinion on some of the others.  

He asked, “You like him, then?”  

I laughed. “Christopher, mate. If I wasn’t straight, I’d be fighting you for him. He’s ideal… funny, charming, body like a brick shithouse… you’re fuckin’ made, mate…!”  

Chris giggled. “Yeah. When we’d started seeing each other, I was thinking, ‘What’s he hiding… there has to be something wrong somewhere…’ But I really don’t think there is. We get on so well and he’s so good to me…”  

I smiled at how he was smiling at me. The guy was so happy.  

He went on, “The invite for you to come whenever you like wasn’t just bullshit, either. I worried you two guys might not hit it off – dunno why you wouldn’t but I told him, ‘See how you go with Jonathon and if you like him tell me ‘cause I’d like him to know he can come down whenever he needs a break from Uni.’ And then he goes and invites you himself…”  

Simon came back to join us and we sat around the dining table chatting until the small hours. A lot of the time it was Chris and I talking about past times – taking the piss out of our parents and reminding each other of stuff from school – and Simon sat quietly letting us have our fun, chipping in when he could. But he didn’t get bored or irritated, nor did he try to change the conversation: he sat back and enjoyed our chat, making comments when he had something to contribute.  

At one point, while Chris was getting another bottle of wine, he said, “I’m not being deliberately quiet… usually you can’t shut me up…”  

I smiled. “Sorry – we’re kind of relieving old times. Like a couple of old men…”  

“Hey – don’t apologise. It’s nice to see you guys getting on so well… I always assumed – being an only- child, I guess – that brothers would be at each other’s throats all the time. That’s just the stereotype, I suppose…”  

I shrugged. “Christopher and I have always got on really well. And Michael. The three of us have always been big mates… looking out for each other…”  

Christopher walked back into the room, laughing at what I’d just said. “Looking out for each other? Yeah right… since when did you ever look out for me? Either you or Michael…”

“When did I ever stop? I mean, I can’t speak for Michael, but…”  

He laughed again, driving the bottle opener into the cork of the wine bottle. “Yeah? So give me an example…”  

“Oh I dunno… you know I can never think of anything on the spur of the moment…”  

“Yeah, ‘cause there’s no examples there to be thought of…”  

I smiled. “So you give me one of your, no doubt, multitude of examples, Christopher…”  

He smiled back, pouring us all a fresh glass of wine, both of us very amused by this. “Ah now… which one? So many to choose from… How about the fact I used to have to constantly ask girls in my year whether they’d be up for a date with you just ‘cause you had a thing about older women…?”  

I laughed. “Once – maybe twice – not quite constantly…”  

“Enough times for it to have stuck in my mind…”  

“Well I couldn’t exactly have returned the favour, Chris, could I? I couldn’t really have asked my mates on the football team if they fancied a shag with my older brother…”  

He feigned glumness. “You could’ve tried.” Then he laughed again. “Especially that guy who was the captain… he was called Gavin wasn’t he? I think he’d have been well up for it from some graffiti I read…”  

“Actually that’s reminded me of one. Something I used to do for you… I was always covering up graffiti in the boys’ toilets about you… erasing stuff like ‘Christopher Warrington sucks cocks’.”  

Chris smiled but Simon almost wet himself with laughter. He said, “Jesus, Jonathon. That wasn’t graffiti – they were your brother’s contact ads…”  

We sat up chatting and joking like that until about three in the morning. Then we reluctantly admitted how tired we all were and turned in to bed.  


The next morning I woke up just after ten o’clock and went to the bathroom to take a piss.

The bathroom door was open and I got halfway through it before I realised Simon was already in there, standing shaving at the sink.  

I said, “Uh, sorry mate…”  

But he beckoned me in. “No worries. I’m just finishing off… the shower’s all yours…”  

He was naked except for a pair of tight white briefs which clung to his large round buttocks like a second skin. He looked me over through the mirror, no doubt noticing that the front of the blue checked boxers I was wearing was raised prominently outward by the rod of my semi-erect cock. It wasn’t that I was aroused: I was just still at half-mast from my having just woken up.  

I said, my voice still groggy, “You don’t mind if I take a piss…?”  

He shook his head, laughing. “I was in a house-share with six other guys for five years. I’m kinda past being prude…”  

I pulled my cock out through the fly of my shorts and, with some difficulty in its semi-swollen state, directed it downwards towards the toilet bowl.  

Simon washed the dregs of shaving foam from his face behind me.  

He tittered, “Am I putting you off…”  

I said, “No, it’s not you. I’ve a slightly more… ah… significant problem…” He’d already seen it so it wasn’t like I was deliberately drawing attention to it.  

He laughed again. “Oh right. No worries, mate. It’s just that some guys get freaked out when other blokes are in the room… I’m not too good myself, actually. Even with Chris in the bathroom, I just cease up…”  

I nodded and a stream of piss spattered into the bowl. “That’s kind of strange. I mean, you guys are obviously really comfortable with each other, you’d think you’d be totally cool about pissing in front of him…”  

Towelling his face dry, he walked over to face me as I used the toilet, lingering in the bathroom door. His chest was as large as it had looked through his shirt the previous evening, his firm well-defined pecs luxuriantly covered with wiry black hair. His stomach was equally impressive, with a six pack to die for, and a thick line of hair led down between his abs and into the bulging front of his well-packed briefs. I was understanding even more of what my brother saw in him!  

He said, “Yeah, it’s weird. A guy can know my body inside out and I’d still end up getting stage-fright if I try to piss in front of him.”  

He slyly checked out my dick like he was just glancing down at the toilet. I guess he just wanted to draw comparisons between mine and Christopher’s; to see if the big brother really is the bigger brother.  

I said, “I’ve never had a problem. I guess it’s just ‘cause I grew up around other men. Me, Chris, Mike and our dad never felt hung-up about being naked around each other…”  

I shook the last few drops from my cock and Simon glanced down at it again, nodding at what I’d said. It was still half-erect, mainly floppy but almost as long and as thick as it gets when its hard, and I guess Simon must have fancied a second look at it.  

He said. “Yeah. Chris has no problem with it either. I guess, like you say, the three of you guys grew up around each other and stopped noticing stuff like that…”  

I tucked my cock away and walked over to the shower cubicle.  

I said, opening the door, “Yeah. I guess when you look at it like that, it’s a wonder Chris turned out gay…”  

I checked out the shower controls and Simon said, “How d’you mean?”  

I looked at him. “Well, you know. Being around guys all his life… seeing so much of me, Mike and our dad… you’d think he’d have grown a bit bored by it…”  

He laughed. “Well, yeah. That’s one way of looking at it. But, on the other hand, maybe you guys gave him a taste for it…”  

I laughed too, still trying to work out how the shower worked.  

He asked, “Do you want a hand with that thing? It’s a bit temperamental…”  

I nodded. “Yeah. Which dial controls temperature?”  

He came over and I moved aside to let him lean into the shower. I got a longer look at his briefs and saw how packed they really were. Whatever was inside was soft but obviously very big.  

He said, “You’ve kind of got to play with both of them. It’s really irritating. The whole shower unit’s on the top of the ‘to be replaced’ list.”  

He turned on the water and it rained down us. Automatically, without really thinking of how it might affect him, I pulled my boxer shirts off, throwing them onto the floor.  

I laughed, “It’s probably easier if I get in.”  

Being a guy who’s comfortable to be naked around other men and who thinks nothing of showering, bathing or sleeping with other guys, pulling off my boxers and getting into the shower was just second nature.  

Simon continued to fiddle with the dials as the water reached a reasonable temperature and it splashed off my body onto him.  

It wasn’t until he said, “You think it might be easier if I get in too?” that I thought, “Hang on.” I looked at his face and realised that his eyes weren’t on the controls, they were on my cock, hanging limp but still slightly swollen between my legs. For a mere six inches of flesh, it seemed to command a lot of his attention,.  

At first I was a bit dumbfounded, but then I decided that it would be best just to act casually. “It’s about right now, actually, mate…”  

He stood up, leaving the dials alone and I saw that his briefs were wet. His cock was now clearly visible through the sodden white material: while tucked downward and clearly still soft, it looked thick and pale and was surrounded by the dark shadow of his pubic hair. Even in its limp state it was hell of a cock and he seemed to like the fact I was looking at it.

He said, “Think I’m gonna win any wet briefs competitions?”  

Again I chose to laugh but I was finding his interest in me more than slightly inappropriate.

I said, “Well, maybe if I was gay. And if your boyfriend wasn’t my brother… then, yeah, you’d be in with a shout…”

He laughed like what I’d said was just a joke.  

But he closed the shower door and left me to my shower: we both knew where the line was. 


Christopher staggered into the bathroom while I was getting dried.

He was naked: I guess he figured he had nothing to hide from either of the men who might be in the bathroom. His cock was semi-erect, like mine had been, and he went straight for the toilet and tried to point it downward. It was a similar length to mine – in fact all three of us brothers had similar dicks, from what I’d seen – but maybe a little thinner. The main difference was our pubic hair: his was dark, mine was almost blond.  

I didn’t bother covering myself up as I might have done if it had been Simon returning. I just stood drying my hair and said, “Morning.”  

He grunted something and the piss started squirting into the toilet bowl.  

He idly scratched his arse and for the first time in my life a sexual thought about him sprung into my mind: “I wonder how many times he’s been fucked.”  

I immediately felt guilty for thinking that about Chris. He was my brother and it was none of my business what he did in bed. I’d always thought that; I’d never even vaguely considered him in a sexual way.  

I was sure that he’d never think about me in that way; that he’d never wonder about how many pussies I’d fucked with my dick. It just wasn’t the way things were between us.  

He muttered, “How many whiskies did I have ‘cause my mouth tastes like a fuckin’ sewer…?”  

I said, “Nice.”  

He asked, his voice still sounding gravelly, “Where’s Simon?”  

“I dunno. If he wasn’t in your bedroom I guess he’s downstairs.”  

Chris nodded. “He’ll be making coffee. That’s what I need… sweet caffeine…”  

He finished off pissing and turned to face me. His cock stood outwards from his balls, still semi-erect. Again a thought surfaced in my mind which I would have preferred to have remained in the depths. I thought: “I wonder who’s the biggest, him or Simon.”  

It might seem a fairly obvious question to have dawned on me, but with it flashed images of the two of them naked and hard together and I just didn’t want to think those kind of thoughts. I guess it was the fact I’d just seen Simon’s dick, albeit through the translucent wet cotton of his underwear, that had caused it. But those kind of ideas weren’t acceptable to me right then, and I wasn’t happy that my mind was presenting them to me.  

Christopher was oblivious to it. To him being semi-hard, or even fully hard, in front of his brothers was just a matter of course. All guys sprouted morning woodies and in our family they were regarded as so standard as to be beneath comment. Even our mother seemed oblivious to the states of her husband and sons’ bodies in the bathroom every morning.  

He said, “You managed to brave the foibles of the shower then?”  

I smiled. “Yeah. Simon showed me.”  

He nodded, clearly totally unsuspecting the over-enthusiasm which his boyfriend had demonstrated in helping me. I didn’t enlighten him.  

He switched the shower on and bent over into it to start fiddling with the dials.  

Again I saw his arse, this time with him bending and with the cleft slightly open.  

Now I thought, “I wonder who fucks who.” Then, before I could dismiss that, my mind raced on a step. “I bet Simon fucks him. He’s the most masculine.” And an image of Simon, kneeling behind Christopher’s bent body, roughly slamming his cock into my brother’s arse, sprung into my mind.  

I turned to face the mirror above the sink, trying to dismiss the thoughts. I felt so guilty. I was as naked as Christopher but he wasn’t looking at my arse or checking out my cock.  

I felt like a bit of shit, even though Chris had no idea what was going on in my mind. The fact that I knew what I was thinking was enough.  

Christopher managed to get the water to the right temperature and I started shaving.  

He said, “I was serious about what I said last night, Jono. You’ve got to come down whenever you want you. Don’t worry about food, or booze, or anything. I’ll sort all that out. I know how hard it was being a student… I want you to treat my place as yours when you want a break from Uni…”  

I looked at him through the mirror, smiling at me, and I felt like even more of a shit. But I thanked him and said I’d visit him whenever I could.  

He got into the shower and started washing himself. He called out, “The fact I’m with Simon doesn’t bother you, does it?”  

I laughed. “Jesus, Chris. No! Why should it?”

He laughed too. “I dunno. I guess ‘cause you’re straight. Maybe it seems a bit weird to you.”

I shook my head, still laughing. “Fuck off! Like it matters a toss to me…”  

And Chris kept laughing too. “Yeah I know. It’s just I’ve never lived with another guy and I kind of worried how you’d be about that…”

I turned to face him and said, “Well, don’t.”  

He smiled through the wet glass, squirting shower gel onto his hairless chest, and said, “Sorry, Jono. I’m being stupid…”  

Our conversation moved onto the more mundane topic of what we were going to do that afternoon as I got on shaving and he washed. We decided – at Christopher’s suggestion – that we’d go into Bristol and have a look around and then maybe go out for a meal or something.  

Then, as I rinsed my face, he got out of the shower and started drying himself. His cock had gone totally limp and hung, like mine, about five inches downward over his hairy balls.  

He asked, “Were you ever in the bathroom when dad was wanking in the shower?”

I laughed. I’d had conversations with Mike about this, but never with Chris.  

“Yeah. It took me a while to realise what he was doing.”  

Among the four of us guys in the family, we had an unspoken policy that – unless you were taking a crap – the bathroom door stayed unlocked pretty much all the time. There was no need to make it a place for privacy – we all had our own bedrooms – and it avoided long queues when we were shaving or showering.  

Obviously, our mother locked the door when she was in there, but she had her own rules.  

Hence us seeing each other naked and in various states of arousal nearly every day.  

Sometimes – not often, just occasionally – dad would be in the shower, his arse to the frosted glass panel, and his right elbow would be sticking out with his forearm banging away at his crotch. Like I say, it didn’t happen often, and for the first few times I was shaving with him doing it behind me, I just thought, “Naah… he can’t be…” and left it at that.  

But then, one day, he must have been getting near to climax when I went into the bathroom because, as I was taking a piss I heard him gasping. Then, a minute or so later as I filled the sink up with water, he got out of the shower with a full hard-on, both his face and his dick looking slightly red, and started chatting to me casually as he dried himself.  

After that, it was just one of those things that happened sometimes. Usually it was on a weekend, always first thing in the morning, and he’d take ten or fifteen minutes at it.  

Christopher said, drying his hair, “I guess he thought we couldn’t see him through the shower screen.”  

“I dunno… it was pretty obvious that we could. I think he just didn’t care. It was just like he was taking a piss or something…”  

Chris threw the towel down and reached for his deodorant. Smiling, he said, “The funny part was that mum obviously didn’t allow him to do it in bed. Otherwise he’d have done it in his bedroom like the rest of us guys.”  

I impersonated my mother’s voice. “We don’t want messiness on the sheets, gentlemen…”  

Chris laughed. “Oh yeah. ‘Messiness.’ I’d forgotten about that. That word covered a multitude of sins…”  

I said, “I used to do have to do it into a sock to avoid the messiness…”  

Chris really roared with laughter at that one. “I’d have never have thought of that… I guess it’s the best way… not a lot can escape…”  

I fiddled with my hair in the mirror, squirting some gel on it and he went on, “I always had a good supply of Kleenex. Boxes of the stuff stockpiled under the bed…”  

It was good to talk about this kind of stuff with Christopher: we never really had before. Mike and I, I suppose since we were of a similar age, went through a phase of talking endlessly about masturbation, but Christopher had always been the older, more aloof, one. I mean, we all we knew that we’d all been doing it from about the age of twelve – and I’d even walked in on Chris in full swing a few times – but we’d never directly discussed it other than the odd joke and jibe.  

We heard Simon coming up the stairs and approaching the bathroom door.  

I turned to find in him in the doorway, holding a couple of mugs of coffee.  

He’d taken off his wet briefs and had pulled on a fresh pair. They were tight and white, like the others, and once again his bulge was impressive.  

He asked, “Where do you want these, guys?” His eyes were all over us. He was obviously fascinated by the fact he was seeing the two of us naked together, checking out differences and similarities between our bodies.  

Christopher said, “Put mine in the bedroom, mate.”  

I picked up my discarded boxers and said, “I’ll take mine here. I’m just gonna get dressed.”

Simon kept staring at us both, his eyes moving from my crotch to Chris’s, openly comparing our cocks.  

I threw him a look, reaching out for my coffee, and he laughed. “Sorry… but did you two ever play dick measuring contests when you were kids?”  

Chris laughed incredulously. “What?”  

Simon said, “It’s just the kind of thing brothers do…”  

Chris found this funny. “Maybe in erotic stories, mate… not in our family. Unless you and Mike ever got your rulers out, Jono?”  

I laughed like that was a ridiculous idea. Actually we had.  

Simon went on, “Sorry… it’s just kind of interesting… how you’re both really similar but with quite a few differences…” 

Christopher said, filling the sink with water so he could shave, “You weren’t checking out my little brother’s dick, were you?”  

Simon giggled. “Well… you know… just making a few academic comparisons…”  

I felt a bit embarrassed but I didn’t want to pull my boxers back on because that would make me look really prissy. This was probably just a joke; but at the same time, he seemed quite genuinely fascinated by the two of us being naked together.  

I said, “I dunno which websites you’ve been on, but being a brother is actually a lot duller than they’d have you believe…”  

He giggled again. His crotch was really starting to show just how fascinated he really was: it wasn’t tenting outward or anything, but there was definitely an obvious rod-shape forming from the rounded mound at the front of his briefs.  

He said, “So there were no jerk-off contests between you three guys then… that’s really disappointing…”  

Christopher laughed, splashing water onto his face. “Again that was probably more Jono and Mike’s area… they were the one’s who’d share a room when we went on holiday and stuff…”  

I didn’t want to get into this. Of course Mike and I had messed about together, but I didn’t want to start telling stories about it.  

I just laughed and then took a sip of the coffee. I said, “You know Mike as well as I do, Chris. As long as he’d remembered to pack his GameBoy, that’d be the only thing he’d be playing with under the duvet…”  

Simon laughed and glanced at my dick again. I wondered what he was expecting; whether he thought I’d be getting a stiffie from this conversation just as he clearly was?  

Christopher called out, shaving his left cheek, “I can’t believe you’re asking us about this, Sime. Using the fact we’re brothers to feed your deviant fantasies…” He chuckled.  

Simon grinned broadly. “It’s not a gay thing. It’s only natural that you guys might have messed around together. I mean, not that I’m saying it was unnatural that you didn’t…”  

I turned to look at Christopher , taking another sip of my coffee. I wanted to be out of the room but Simon was in the doorway and I didn’t want to look like I was getting uncomfortable from talking about this kind of stuff.  

Christopher had his back to turned to me but he smiled at me through the mirror as he shaved his chin.  

He said, “Well like I say. It might have been natural for Jono and Mike to have messed around. They only had a couple of years between them… but I was always the old, mature, responsible one…”  

I was starting to get a bit pissed off. Why did Chris keep mentioning Mike? Had he suspected what we used to get up to? Had Mike told him – as absurdly unlikely as that would have been?  

Simon turned to look at me again, grinning. I noticed that the bulge at the front of his briefs was growing larger, the white cotton being pushed outwards by the obvious swelling beneath it.  

Christopher chuckled, obviously enjoying playing with me like this. “And you two guys were always camping out together and stuff…”  

I thought I better just turn it into a joke. If I got defensive, Chris would start picking at what I’d said like a terrier. He always had since we were kids; I guess he’d been born to enter the legal profession.  

I smiled and said, “Okay you guys. We were shagging like rabbits. Couldn’t get enough of it…”  

Christopher laughed and turned to face me. I grinned at him and then saw that his cock, which had clearly been flaccid as he’d been drying himself, had lengthened to six or seven inches and stood outwards from his balls at an angle of forty-five degrees. He was getting off on this!  

He didn’t attempt to hide it. He regarded it as nonchalantly as he would a morning woodie although it was quite clearly something rather different.  

He said, grinning, and adopting his lawyer voice, “You’ll have to give us full and explicit details, Mr Warrington…”  

I just laughed like it was all a joke. But his semi-erection was freaking me out. Like I said, I’d never really thought about Christopher in a sexual way. But now I was confronted by it: he was right there in front of me in a sexually aroused state. This was no morning stiffie like I’d seen loads of time before, nor was it an erection thrown up by a need to masturbate like Mike and I had seen on each other on countless occasions: his excitement here was caused by thoughts of me and was directed – literally – at me.  

Christopher continued, “And to think of all those camping trips and holidays I passed up on. All that brotherly love I missed out on…”  

Simon laughed. His cock was now clearly erect: if not fully, then close. He must have adjusted it in his briefs while I was looking at Chris because it now pointed diagonally upwards inside them; a thick surprisingly long rod directed up towards his left hip.  

He said, “Maybe you guys should make up for lost time…”  

This was too weird for me. Chris was staring at my dick, his own now almost horizontal and the foreskin gradually retracting from his pink bell-end. Simon was grinning at us both like this had been one of his long-standing fantasies.  

I smiled and said, “I’m gonna get dressed, you guys. Maybe you should take a cold shower or something…”  

Then I pushed my way past Simon and walked along the corridor to my room.  

I heard them giggling together and didn’t know whether to feel unnerved or pissed off by what they’d just done. It had been a joke, clearly, but an exremely bizarre one.  

I regard myself as an easy-going guy, pretty cool about most things, but the fact of being naked in a room with two gay guys who’d made sexual inferences and then both developed erections had freaked me out a bit. I’d felt like the outsider; the staid straight guy among two horny gay men.  

Christopher had never confronted me in such a direct way with his sexuality, and had definitely never used it against me as I was feeling he just had.  

I pulled on a clean pair of boxers and sat on the bed for a minute.  

I thought, “Come on, Jono. Pull yourself together, mate. It’s just Chris messing around like he used to with you and Mike when you were kids.  

“So what if he’d sprouted a hard-on? It was hardly the first time you’ve seen one on him. You should be kind of pleased he’s comfortable enough around you to feel he doesn’t need to conceal his erections…”  

But then I thought, “Yeah, but this one was sexual. This one was grown just for me…”

And that set me really thinking. Did Chris see me in a sexual way? I’m a guy – a reasonably attractive one, or so I’m told – and he’s gay. I guess he’s bound to have had thoughts and fantasies about me; to have found me sexually attractive and to have wondered what it would be like to have sex with me.  

I considered whether I’d feel like that about a sister if I’d have had one. I didn’t think so, but it was feasible that I would. She’d be a female version of Mike, Christopher and I. That would be kind of interesting, I guess.  

As I got dressed, I also considered the possibility that maybe Chris had been trying to draw me in to a conversation about brotherly incest to titillate Simon. After all, it was Simon who had an obvious interest in the subject and who had started the conversation off. Maybe Chris had been deliberately putting images and ideas into Simon’s mind and had got aroused himself when he saw Simon’s briefs responding.  

By the time I was dressed I’d pretty much reconciled myself to the fact it had been a joke – albeit an unexpected one – and that I had little reason to feel upset. I was pleased I hadn’t made it obvious that I had felt uncomfortable; after all, brothers having sex must be a fairly common gay fantasy and it wasn’t unreasonable that Chris and Simon might make a joke about it.  

If I’d have been gay, I was sure the joke wouldn’t have been made: after all, then it might cause all kinds of tensions.  

I walked back through to the bathroom to grab my hair gel from my toiletries bag.  

The door was locked and at first I assumed that one of them was taking a dump. I was about to head downstairs when I heard Chris whisper something, breathless, and a rhythmic slurping sound.  

I thought, “Oh shit.”  

I’d never heard two guys having sex before and I was frozen to the spot. I admit that I was slightly horrified – the horror coming mainly from the fact that my older brother was one of the men – but there was also a sort of hypnotic fascination that prevented me from turning away.  

The slurping noises echoed loudly from the tiled bathroom. Chris was sighing and moaning.  

I wondered if he was getting fucked; if the sounds I were hearing were the sounds of Simon’s cock sliding in and out of his arse.  

Or whether Chris was fucking Simon. I was totally ignorant about the whole who-fucks-who thing.  

I thought, “This is too weird,” and wanted to turn away.  

But I didn’t. I stayed there listening to them, feeling both repulsed and fascinated by the image that their noises were creating in my mind.  

Then I saw the keyhole with the light from the room coming through it in the dim hallway.

I thought, “I’m not gonna look through that. That would be totally out of order.”  

And I turned away, walking a few steps down the corridor, towards the staircase.  

But then I thought, “What’s the problem, here? They’re two guys are in love, they’re totally hot for each other… they both got erections even though you were there ‘cause they fancy the arses off each other… it’s natural they’d want a quick one…”  

I turned back to look at the door. Chris was gently groaning. I heard him whisper, “Yeah… mate… go for it…” and the slurping sounds grew faster.  

He was getting fucked.  

I had to see it. I had to know what it looked like.  

I walked back to the door and knelt down to look through the keyhole. They were standing right in front of the door next to the toilet; right in front of me.  

I saw a cock and Simon’s mouth sliding up and down it. He was sucking Chris off, but in a way no girl has ever sucked me.  

He took long rapid strokes, working his mouth along almost the entire seven inches of Chris’s cock. Not short licks around the bell-end like most girls give me.  

His mouth was wet and Chris’s cock was slick with his spit. Simon was loving the taste, salivating and gorging himself on the arching rod in front of him. That was where the slurping was coming from: I hadn’t recognised it because no girl had ever slurped on my cock; no girl had ever feasted on it so gluttonously.  

Simon’s chin kept banging against my brother’s balls, his nose diving in and out of Chris’s thick brown pubic bush.  

No wonder Chris was moaning. If it had been me on the receiving end of a blowjob like that, I’d have been screaming out!  

I kept watching them with the same mixture of repulsion and fascination that the sounds of them had made me feel.  

But then I thought, “If I’d have been gay, this is what it would have looked like when a guy sucked my cock.” And that changed everything: the repulsion seemed to instantly evaporate and the fascination took over.  

Christopher’s cock is similar to mine, our balls about the same size. Except for the colour of our pubic hair and the thickness of our cocks, there’s little difference between them. This might have been my brother on the receiving end of a blow job, but it was so close to being me that I could almost feel Simon’s mouth on my cock. I started to feel slightly aroused, my cock twitching in my jeans.  

Then I thought, “If I was in Simon’s place, it’d be like tasting my own cock…”  

And that really started me getting excited. Then I began to understand why Chris had grown hard in the bathroom at the prospect of something happening between us. It’d be like masturbation – experimenting and playing with yourself – but you could go so much further…  

Chris pulled his cock out of Simon’s mouth and pushed his balls into his face. Simon feasted on them, working them in and out of his mouth in turn, and then moved further down into the crack between Chris’s thighs.  

Chris knew what he was after and raised one leg and rested his foot on the seat of the toilet. Simon plunged in, licking between my brother’s legs and pushing his tongue towards his arsehole. Chris grabbed Simon’s head with one hand and started pushing it further in, guiding it to his hole. With the other he was masturbating his cock, pulling his foreskin back and forth with fast short strokes.  

By now I was totally absorbed. I was Simon, plunging in between Chris’s legs – feeling my brother guiding my head – trusting him and enjoying pleasuring him. I was tasting his cock, his balls, his arse, but at the same time tasting my own.

I felt aroused but in more of an emotional rather than a sexual way. My cock was half-hard but my my mind was throbbing and pulsating. Why had I never thought of this? Why hadn’t Chris and I been more open with each other when I had so much to learn from him? The odd jerk-off session I’d had with Mike paled into insignificance at the thought of what Chris, with his alternative sexual viewpoint, could have taught me.  

And of what I could have taught him. My body being so similar to his could have fuelled his own experimentation; my cock, my balls, my arse were all like his and he could have enjoyed getting to know his own body through mine.  

It seemed so obvious that I began feeling angry with myself that I hadn’t considered the possibilities years earlier.  

I had a gay older brother and I’d assumed it was pretty much the same as having a straight one. But that had been such a woeful under-appreciation of Christopher that I felt annoyed at all the opportunities I’d missed out on.  

I didn’t feel like I was becoming gay – I didn’t want Christopher to be my boyfriend or anything – I just wished I’d been more intimate with my older brother and to have understood how special his sexuality made our relationship.  

I was kneeling on one knee and shifted my weight from my knee to my other foot. The floorboard beneath me creaked and Chris backed off from Simon a little.  

Simon’s head had been right between Chris’s legs, so he couldn’t have heard, but Christopher obviously had.  

He said, “Come on, mate… we’ve gotta get downstairs… Jono’ll be wondering where we are…”  

Simon looked up at him, some of Chris’s pubic hair stuck to his lips. He said, “Jono’ll be cool… he won’t mind…”  

Christopher said, “Yeah but I said we’d go out… he’ll be getting bored…”  

I stood up as quietly as I could and crept along the corridor.  

As I quietly headed downstairs, I heard Christopher laugh at something Simon said and then the click of the bathroom door as it was unlocked.  

I reached the foot of the stairs as they went into their bedroom to get dressed.  

I guess my first instinct, as I poured myself another coffee in the kitchen, was to think up an excuse as to why I needed to leave and then to head straight back to my University flat. I’d taken a big leap into the unknown – albeit only a mental one at that stage – and I felt I needed time on my own to digest all the thoughts that had been pouring through my mind.  

I didn’t know if what I’d been thinking was right or wrong and I needed a little space to consider everything. After all, like I told you, until that morning Christopher had always been a primarily non-sexual character in my life and the idea that he might, even if just in fantasy, become something significantly more than that would take some getting used to.  

But I couldn’t think of an excuse and by the time the guys came downstairs I realised how odd my sudden departure would look. Christopher would think I’d been traumatised by his and Simon’s joke and would be upset that I’d taken offence. He’d make sure he avoided situations like that in the future and it would be almost impossible to re-establish that level of frankness with him.  

Simon, too, would think it strange and might even, unlike Christopher who knew me too well, interpret it as me being homophobic. That would wreck all possible hopes of friendship between the two of us guys in the future and if, as seemed likely, the relationship was long-term would mess things up between Christopher and I.  

So I thought it best to stay put.  

When they came into the kitchen I smiled and joked like everything was totally cool and, after we’d had a few slices of toast, we went out for the afternoon.


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