Lovers Older Brother

Steve was gorgeous. He was a few inches shorter than I, but nature made up for it in other ways. With his olive complexion, dark - almost black - hair, ice-blue eyes, aquiline nose and hairy chest, it was easy to miss the rest of Steve's assets. He had a thin, muscular body - "lithe" would be the right word - and what they refer to in porno stories as the "dick of the death." When we met, it wasn't love at first sight - far from it! - but as we got to know each other, some real deep feelings took root. Right now, Steve and I have been together for about five years.

But this story isn't about Steve. It's about Steve's older brother, Jonathan. When Steve and I talked about him, it was always "Jonathan," never "Jon." With most people the extra verbiage would have been silly - but it always seemed like some kind of insult not to call him Jonathan.

My first introduction to Jonathan came by a way of a photo from some family event of Steve's. It was a standard professional-type studio picture, with Steve seated and Jonathan standing over him. When Steve showed it to me, I kinda pissed him off by saying "What a hunk!" or something like that about Jonathan. It was true though - Jonathan was taller than Steve, had curlier hair, a moustache - and he looked a bit like an older, more macho version of Greg from "The Brady Bunch." With Steve's reaction to my comment about his older brother, I decided to keep my mouth shut; but when he put the picture in a frame and put it on the bedroom dresser, it was hard to ignore the feeling in my groin every time I saw the photo.

The first time I ever met Jonathan, I was so nervous I almost puked. There he was, the object of a whole bunch of my masturbatory fantasies, in the flesh, and all I could do was say "Hi!" and even that came out in a nervous little voice. My eyes were okay though, and I looked and stared as much as possible without being obvious. He was taller than Steve, slightly darker - more mediterranean looking - dark curly hair, brown eyes, a chest so hairy it showed through his shirt, and a basket that made his tight jeans look really well-stuffed. I had to find a chair and sit in it fast...my hard-on was too obvious.

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Over the course of the five years Steve and I have been together, I was able to bring Jonathan up in conversation only a few times. Steve was so defensive of his older brother, it was like pulling teeth to get him to see Jonathan as anything other than the older brother he worshipped. The first time I asked him if he thought (or knew), Jonathan was well-hung, he almost slugged me...I had to hatch this explanation that I was interested only for "comparison purposes," since Steve was rather well-endowed. He bought that, but if he had seen the tent in my pants, the game would have been up! I got about the same reaction the first time I asked him if he had any idea whether or not Jonathan had ever had a gay experience. In an icy voice, he assured me had not and told me to drop the subject, for now and forever.

Eventually, I think Steve started to see it as a joke. Every time he would talk to his brother on the phone, I would be whisper in his ear, "Ask your brother if he wants a blow job." He never did, of course, but he stopped getting angry. It would have been interesting to see what he answered, though, and I spent many a jerk-off session thinking about what might have happened. It was a strange situation: I was very much in love with Steve, but I also had the hots for his brother. I tried to control it, but the thought of making love to Jonathan - who was, to my eyes, everything Steve was, and more - was an incredible turn-on.

Although Jonathan and Steve were very close, Jonathan and I never had been, probably due to my absolute terror of ever accidentally slipping and saying something to him about how I felt. When Jonathan announced he was getting married last year, the relationship got even more distant...I was going through a phase where marriage, "being a straight institution, deserved no support from gays." I guess that's a phase everybody goes through sooner or later, but it hit me just around the time of the wedding. Invited though I was, I didn't attend...instead I spent the night whacking off, thinking about how I'd give almost anything to be the one Jonathan carried over the threshold that night.

After a time, things kinda straightened themselves out. I got my head back on track, and eventually started to participate in some of Steve's family activities...most of which involved Jonathan. I kept my hands to myself, but I had to be careful not be caught staring. I kept up the pseudo-jokes with Steve; asking every now and then if he thought his brother would like to get the blow job of his life, but he found a way to shut me up just by saying "Go ask him." I didn't, of course, but constructed a lot of fantasies - honker in hand - about some of the possible outcomes if I had.

One night, Steve and I were having a party - to celebrate our fifth anniversary - and we invited Jonathan and his wife, Toni, and a bunch of other friends and family. It wasn't much; they sat around watching videos, I sat around staring unobtrusively at Jonathan's crotch and we all pigged out, and as the hour got later, the guests began to leave, until it was down to just Jonathan and Toni and Steve and I. By this time, it was about three in the morning, and everybody was half asleep, so Steve came up with the bright idea of inviting Jonathan and Toni to stay the night. Since our guest room had only a small bed, we eventually worked it out that Steve and I would sleep in our bed, Toni would take the guest bedroom, and Jonathan would sleep on the couch. Fine and great. I was tired, and went out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I'm one of those unfortunate people that wake up close to the same time every day, whether they have to or not...in fact, whether they've slept enough or not. While there have been days this has kept me from being late to work, it's a pain in the ass on weekends, and this was no exception. I reached for my morning/wake-up cigarette and then kicked myself - I had left them in the living room last night.

The same living room where Jonathan was sleeping on the couch.

Naturally, with my lover asleep in one bedroom and his wife asleep in other, it wasn't the situation I had always dreamed about, so I steeled my nerves and went to get the cigarettes and the lighter. It was worse than I thought.

Jonathan laid there on the couch, on his back. He had evidently felt warm or constricted or something during the night, and had taken off his shirt and jeans, so he was laying there in just his briefs. He had his right arm thrown over his eyes, so just his bushy mustache showed from under the crook of his elbow. I looked - I couldn't help but look! - down his body. He was -hairy-, really hairy, and the hair on his chest abruptly cut off at the edge of the area he shaved on his neck. It went down, spreading out all over, a thick, dark mat that arrowed down toward his navel and further down to his crotch. His briefs were snow white...and bulging.

Jonathan had a hard-on!

I could feel that familiar tingling in my groin and my heart start to pound. I couldn't help but stare, but knew that if anybody else in the house woke up, I'd be in deep shit. I froze, wanting to be as quiet as possible so I could keep looking.

I eventually calmed myself down a bit, and realized I wanted a closer look. I moved slowly, being careful not to creak the floor or bump into the coffee table, until I was right next to the sleeping hunk on the couch. I looked down, watching his chest gently rise and fall, while the breath coming from his half-opened mouth jiggled the longer hairs in his moustache. God, that chest! I'm into hairy men, and his chest was a hairy man lover's dream come true. A well-sculpted body, covered with thick hair...just a few gaps every now and then where I could see his olive skin showing through.

And his crotch! His white cotton Fruit-of-the-Loom briefs were stretched to the limit. Now that I was closer, I could make out the details of a big cock - bigger than Steve's, it seemed - cut, of course, and thick. His balls were slung down underneath, nestled in the material, and looking up his body from that viewpoint was the closest I'd ever come to a religious experience...the big dick standing up almost straight in his briefs, framed against the background of his hairy chest...Christ!

I tried to stop myself, but I couldn't. I reached out and ever so lightly brushed my index finger against his nuts. No reaction. I was taking a hell of a risk, but I knew that if I let this chance get away, I might never get it again. I reached out a second time, running my finger up the length of his shaft...starting from his balls and going all the way up to the tip of his rod. Still no reaction - his breathing never changed, his position never changed, nothing - and I wondered if Steve's characteristic of not waking up for anything short of a nuclear explosion was a family trait.

At this point, things started to seem unreal. All I could hear was Jonathan's breathing, almost on the verge of a snore, and my heart pounding. I reached out again, this time with my whole hand, and wrapped it lightly around his huge dick. I stroked it through the material. No reaction. I was actually feeling his dick! My own cock was as hard as rock - several rocks! - but I didn't care; I wanted to hold Jonathan's dick! I cupped his heavy balls with all five fingers this time, and found they were bigger than Steve's, and mine...and probably Steve's and mine put together!

I kneeled down now, next to the couch, and leaned over. I looked up at his face - still no change - and kissed the head of his rod through the briefs. I could smell him now too, a medley of aftershave and cologne and sweat. It was too much for me...I reached under the leg band of his briefs, and finally, actually touched his dick. It jiggled a little in his briefs, and I froze again, waiting to make sure he wasn't going to wake up. He didn't, and I got brave again, rubbing my finger tips up the length of his shaft, and reaching down to feel what I could of his balls. I almost shit myself when I went to pull my hand out, and his dick came out with it!

It stood there, hard and proud and big and thick, pointing up toward his navel, and it was an incredible piece of meat. I made the comparison I had told Steve about a long time ago, and Steve was the little brother in more ways than one! This was a dick to be proud of, and knowing something of Jonathan's track record, I was sure he had pounded many a pussy into ecstasy with it. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn he was too big for at least a few.

Now that it was out in the open, I leaned over again, carefully balancing myself, and kissed the head again. Then I licked it, lightly, not wanting to wake Jonathan up. His breathing still hadn't changed, he still hadn't moved...no reaction at all. Could I be that lucky? I put the tip of my tongue at the base of his cock and traced it up the underside of his dick, all the way up to his head. Then I did it again with more than the tip. I used my whole tongue now, and licked around the head of his honker every time I got back up to the top. Without even consciously realizing it, I had gone from just looking to giving him a full-fledged blow job.

I was still scared that someone would wake up, but I had made it this far, and had no intention of giving up. I made love to his dick, putting all those pent-up feelings into it... I wished he were awake, almost, so he'd understand how I felt, and could appreciate how I was making him feel. I had dreamed so much of giving him the best suck job of his life, and now I was - but he didn't know it! I wondered, between licks, what he was dreaming about...what features he would include in a wet dream.

I knew my time was limited, and I wanted to get him off, to taste his load and seal the bond...a bond between men. I concentrated my mouth action on the head of his dick, and lightly grasped his thick shaft in one hand while I caressed his balls with the other. I put everything I had into this, emotionally and physically...even though I could never tell him how I felt about him - how much I wanted to be closer to him, how much I wanted him to like me as much I wanted to like him - I knew I probably would never have this chance again. I wanted to make him cum!

I licked and sucked, gently and lovingly, giving his dick the kind of attention I had dreamed about all these years. I could feel his balls start to tighten up, and I knew he was getting closer to cumming... I angled myself so I could keep an eye on his face, just in case he woke up, and I concentrated on making him feel as good as I knew how. I could see the muscles under his hairy gut tense up, and his shaft stiffened suddenly, and my mouth was suddenly full of his cream. I gulped, I swallowed, I licked...each strong spurt his fucking big cock shot out.

I didn't stop licking until he stopped shooting. His cock flopped out of my mouth, landing on the hair of his gut, and it was already starting to shrink as I stood up. I felt something funny...I had come in my briefs, and I didn't even feel it! I looked at him, trying to burn the image into my memory to last forever. I leaned over again, putting his softening cock back into his briefs, thinking about what a hot, macho fucking man he was and how much it hurt that we could never be close, really close. I stepped back, savoring the taste in my mouth, the taste of Jonathan's cum! thinking about how great it would have been if I had had an older brother, and finally retrieved the cigarettes I had originally come out for.

I took a deep breath, wishing again that he could know how strongly I felt about him, wanting more than anything for him to hug me...to tell me that I meant something to him, too...anything. But I had to face reality. I turned to go back to the bedroom to smoke my cigarette. I stepped gently, not wanting to make any noise, and was just about to leave the room. I turned to get one more look.

"Thanks." Jonathan propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at me, while I wanted to melt into the floor. That smile was worth more than anything else I could have imagined.

Things haven't quite been the same since.

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