The Family Christmas

II.

I never thought I’d be grateful to have something wack me in the crotch. But in their haste to throw themselves all over their precious baby brother, Karen slid off the sofa arm into Jennie, who twisted and somehow managed to wack the scrapbook with an elbow that then slid back to my crotch. I threw myself forward, head down between my knees and let everyone yell above me. When Jennie put her hand down in my hair and tried to pull my head up, saying, “He’s faking it, come on, don’t be an ass! It couldn’t have hurt that much!” I tried to play hurt and escape.

“Mom, can’t I go to my room, now?”

“No, we haven’t even gotten to Easter or Mother’s day. I pressed one of the flowers from that lovely bouquet you sent me. Now, come on, forgive Jennie, you know she didn’t mean it,” said Mom mercilessly.

“Hey, it’s not like you are going to use them either!” said the little bitch.

“Jennie! Apologize to your brother now!”

At this point, dad spoke. Everyone got quiet. My dad doesn’t talk much, but when he does, we listen.

“I want to bond with my sons, now. You too, Jeff, you’re my son now,” said Dad. “Come on, in the garage, gentlemen. Don’t disturb us, ladies.”

Dad, well, dad is hot. He was--I guess really I should say still is--bi. Mom had a lot of competition to win his heart, and she is madly in love with him. They are really adorable together, but sometimes it’s just another thing that makes me feel sad and lonely. Anyway, what dad wants, dad gets. We wouldn’t be bothered, not even by Gwen.

The garage is jammed with Dad’s wood-working tools: the bandsaw, the planer, the joiner, the drill press, the belt sander, blah, blah. So we huddled in the space by the door for a moment.

“Come here, boys,” said Dad, holding out his arms. We did what we always had done. I went under the right arm, and my brother under the left. He hugged us both, which made the head slam even more shocking. Yup. One hand on each of our necks, and he slammed our heads together like we were in some cartoon. Violence after affection is always more devastating, and this was a clue that dad was officially pissed. He slid the bolt on the inside of the door to the house—put up to keep little kids away from the big bad tools long ago, now useful for when dad wants a serious “heart to heart” or, rather, when he wants to talk sense into one of us. The sound of that bolt sliding into place made me wince. This wasn’t going to be nice if he absolutely had to make sure mom or Gwen wouldn’t interrupt. He folded his arms and looked at us. Jeff looked like he wanted to piss his pants. My brother and I held our aching foreheads and focused on dad. We didn’t look at each other, of course.

“I don’t know what the fuck went wrong between the two of you. I don’t want to know. But you two are going to work it out now. Jeff and I will be outside by the trash cans. When you’ve worked it out, come join us. There will be no computing for you for the entire holiday,” he said pointing at me, “and multiple visits from your sisters and mother at your college dorm for you if I don’t get what I want.” I was so relieved that there was an “if” clause that I almost missed dad’s demand. “ . . . and I want my sons looking at each other, talking to each other, and a hug in front of your mother—one fucking hug. Start bonding, boys.”

Jeff fled out into the side yard before dad was even finished. Pussy. Or well, maybe he really did have to piss. Jeff isn’t really that bad, despite loving Gwen, but never mind about that. Dad gave us each a warning glare before slamming the steel door to the side yard shut.

Shit.

I was doomed. This Christmas was doomed. Our family just might never recover. I’d be hitch-hiking my way back to New York or in the hospital.

To save Christmas, I just somehow had to make up with my baby brother, hug him in front of my mom, and not let anyone know what I didn’t even want myself to know. What I had been denying for years. What I had been masturbating to for years.

Yeah, right, like the blonde in my fantasies just looked like my brother, just sort of sounded like my brother, but wasn’t him.

But with my brother in front of me, looking at him, really looking at him, I knew that he was the one I had been using in my mind, pushing down on his knees. Yes, those lips right over there were the ones I dreamed about forcing my cock in between. My little brother’s face was the one saw myself spraying with cum, licking, kissing, caressing. In my mind I’d taken him again and again, sometimes worshipping, sometime abusing, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Lying on my back stroking myself, I’d dreamed of fucking him in just about every position possible.

I was a fool.

I thought I couldn’t hate myself anymore than I did at that moment. But then my little brother lifted up his head and looked at me, not in anger, not in hate, but in pain.

It was a whimper first, then a little sob. “Why? Why do you hate me so much you can’t even look at me? What’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I good enough for you?”

His hands were on my arms, tears spilling out of those big eyes, and I couldn’t look away, couldn’t answer, and couldn’t believe that once more I was getting hard. My little brother was crying, and I was aroused. And perversely, knowing how twisted and wrong that was just made the blood rush into my cock faster.

“What did I do? Tell me, tell me to my face! Look at me!” He jerked on my arms, pulling me closer, too close. Fucking linen pants.

I could tell the second he felt my erection against his jeans. I grabbed him and pressed my body against his, my head looking over his shoulder because I couldn’t look at his face as that desire for my approval, for my love, turned to hate. But if he hates me, at least some of his pain will go away, whispered a voice in my head. Maybe that was part of the reason I bucked my hips, thrusting my cock into him hard. But maybe it was just because I had wanted to rub my cock against him for forever. I wanted to fuck him so badly, and just the smell and feel of him fully clothed was more arousing than all of my naked twinks doing their best to seduce me.

“That’s why, dammit, that’s why,” I growled into his ear. “That’s why I can’t look at you, can’t touch you, can’t talk to you!” I ground my erection into his crotch to make sure he realized just how sick I was. “I don’t look at you because you’re a fucking wet dream, because every time I see you, you make my dick drip like a fucking popsicle over flames. I can’t come home, I can’t call you, I can’t see you, without wanting you. Without wanting to kill everyone that’s closer to you, without wanting to drag you away and lock you up—Jesus god, stop me, help me. I can’t stop myself.” I started sobbing, my head on his shoulder, my hands gripping his shoulders, my hips still rocking into him.

He felt me up.

My sweet, perfect little brother, the darling of the family, felt me up. He put one hand on my hair, stroking my head, and the other on my cock, gripping, moving, deliberate. I froze and shock dried up my tears.

His hand circled my cock as best as it could with my clothes on, pressing the silk and linen around my dick, sliding up and down. I push myself back from him, and the hand on my hair fell away. He moved it to my crotch. I looked down at my little brother’s hands. They were delicate, pretty, and not so little anymore. One was rubbing my cock, the other playing with my balls, moving the silk and linen over them. I shuddered hard, moaned, and my dick thrashed as if it could tear through all that fabric to feel what it wanted—the skin of my baby brother’s hand, his palm, his fingers, touching my dick.

He laughed.

He undid the button of those pants that now were creased and wrinkled around my crotch, pulled down the zipper, and slipped one hand beneath the silk of my underwear. My cock, erect, was there in my little brother’s hand, my skin against his skin. I couldn’t help it—my back arched, my hips thrust up, I moaned, and my cock wiggled and dribbled out precum, wetting that stupid silk underwear, wetting his hand. I fisted my hands to prevent them from grabbing that long blonde hair of his, to hold back from squeezing that ass in his tight jeans, from cupping that face and holding it still as I fucked his mouth silly with my tongue.

A seam of the underwear tore as he pulled my cock out. I shut my eyes and dug the nails of my fingers into my palms, preventing them from ripping off my little brother’s shirt and filling the air with the sound of more cloth tearing and the ping of buttons flying into dad’s tools.

“So this is the famous Energizer Bunny,” he said. “It looks better in real life than in a snapshot.”

My cock bounced up out of his hand and pointed to the sky in shock before falling back into those warm hands. My brain lost the ability to use language for a minute.

“It really does hop,” he said. “How many times did you fuck David this morning?”

My little brother said fuck while touching my dick—my balls lifted, and I almost came then and there, but my brain was functioning again and asking David? David? And then the answer came, David! My cock went back to just being hard as I processed that my little brother knew David, who thousands of miles away in New York, many, many hours ago, had a “pressing” computer problem that needed fixed now, making me leave Gwen in my apartment. David, who I had thought a godsend, who I had been delighted to fuck several times for giving me a reason to get away from Gwen! That little shit!

“How many times?” demanded the stranger in my little brother’s body, squeezing my dick painfully.

“Three, and he better have liked it cause I’ll never fuck him again,” I said in a voice that sounded surprisingly like my dad’s. It even sounded scary to me. My hands were around my little brother’s throat, I noticed, but I wasn’t tightening them, stupid me. I jerked him forward a bit and my hips thrust forward. I didn’t care that I was smearing my precum on his jeans. “You betrayed me, my own little brother, betrayed me, plotting with Gwen and David. Did he film it for you? Did you laugh at the sight of your ugly, dorky brother willing to whore himself to get a little ass? So this is your revenge?”

He picked me up, lifting me under my armpits, and slammed me against the steel door. My hands fell away from his neck, and I looked at his rage and strength, thinking never had he looked so beautiful. I would take my beating happily, listen to his mockery, listen to his rage. I loved him. I really loved him.

“Don’t ever call yourself ugly! And if you want to be a whore, be my whore! Did you ever think that about what I wanted? I grew up listening to you under me, listening to you masturbate, listening to talk to yourself, to your fucking boyfriends, to you fucking, to you talking about fucking, about processors, about digital files, about all that computer shit that was way too hard for me to understand. You were always there in your bedroom below mine, even when you wouldn’t talk to me, even when you ignored me, and when I would lie there listening, you were mine. Then you were gone, and I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus. You were so busy not watching me, you never even noticed I was watching you. The first time I ever jerked off, I was watching you, watching you touch yourself. You’ll never, ever be ugly to me, you idiot! And if you’re sick, I’m sicker! Let me show you how sick I am, big brother!”

He dropped to his knees and sucked in my cock, taking it all the way in, right into the back of his throat.

I lost it. I had my hands in his hair, and I held his head and fucked his throat once, twice, three times, and blast off. I shouted and must have ripped out some of his hair because later there were strands clinging to my fingers. Time actually slowed down, like it had that one time I’d almost died on the freeway, my car spinning around three times. I had been able to see every face in the cars behind me as I had spun by them. And just that same way, as I came in my brother’s mouth for the first time, I could see the cum spilling into that open pink mouth, see each swallow, the way the tongue arched up under my cock, the way that little hole took down my cum, thick, semi-transparent. It was like a slow-motion movie, and each blink of his eyes, each flex of his cheeks, burned itself into my brain cells. I can shut my eyes now, and I see it, see those big green-blue eyes, the lashes lowering, that one piece of hair tickling his nose, that mouth open so wide, his nostril, two dark tunnels above that spread mouth—that mouth with my cock inside it. The cum spurts out so slowly I can see individual drops, see my urethra contract in the pause before the next spray of cum releases. I see his tongue arch, his throat undulate, and my cum fills his pink wet mouth then sinks down into his throat. How did my cock fit into that tiny throat? His lips move in and close over my spraying cock, tightening, sucking, and then he shudders, shudders all over, and I can feel it in my fingers in his hair, in his mouth around my cock. He’s coming in his jeans from just sucking me off. His face, oh god, his face as he comes--

God dammit! I just came on my fucking keyboard writing this.

That’s how fucking hot my little brother is.

Enjoy the description because no one, no one but me, is ever going to slide their cock in his pretty little mouth again.

He looked up at me as my cock popped out of his mouth, his face—

I just spent twenty minutes staring at the screen trying to think how to describe his face at that moment, and none of the words, none of the phrases can capture what I saw because maybe really it was what I felt that really mattered. He was mine, and I was his. This was our brotherhood, our bond.

Our mouths met, and we just devoured each other, trying make up for the years apart. I think we would have fucked right then and there, if we hadn’t heard the piercing sound of Gwen coming through the door. She was out there with Dad and Jeff. And my brother had cum in his jeans and his lips were swollen, his hair trashed. My cock was already hard again, my underwear torn, and no doubt my lips and hair looked as bad as his.

I stuffed myself back in my pants as best as I could, looking around frantically, trying to figure a way out of this.

“Fake fight,” my brother whispered, “I carry you out, jump in the pool with you.” He bent down and grabbed me, easily standing with me over his shoulder. “You got to keep your legs in front of my crotch,” he added.

“Wait,” I said, my brain catching up with the plan, “put me down for a second.”

“Give me a good reason,” he countered almost to the door to the house.

“This shirt’s the color of your eyes and super soft. I want to fuck you in it.”

That stopped him. He practically dropped me, and those big green-blue eyes fixed on me. “Take it off,” he said, and my cock jumped again. “Dear god, you’re amazing,” he said, making it leap again.

I undid the soft suede shirt quickly, my hands shaking a little. I draped it over dad’s joiner, and he still was just staring at me, which made me nervous. I’m skinny and thin, and staring at my body might turn him off.

I grabbed him and made for the door, and he screamed even as he pinched my ass, “Put me down, you asshole! I won’t take it back; you’ll never make me change my mind.”

I couldn’t think of anything to shout at him as I raced through the laundry room and kitchen, and thank god, I really didn’t need to since Jennie and Karen were already screaming at me too by the time I jerked reached the sliding doors. I surprised myself with how fast I made it to the deep end of the pool, leaping in. It was fucking freezing, and I let myself scream too before we sunk underwater.

By the time we surfaced, the whole family was there, but I couldn’t see them anyway because I was staring at my little brother who had one hand on my bare chest and one on my arm. My glasses had somehow managed to stay on my face, and although I could hardly see clearly through them with the water streaming off them, I still couldn’t tear my eyes off the way he looked—laughing, his hair wet, his eyes even more beautiful in the bright sunshine. The hand on my chest brushed over my nipple, and I lunged at him, taking us down in the pool one more time. He pinched my nipple as we went down, and when we came up, I was dazed.

“Tell me you love me, and I’m the best brother in the world,” he said.

“I love you, and you’re the best brother in the world,” I replied.

Then he was hugging me, and we went under the water again. When we came up again, I was grinning ear to ear, pulling my little brother to shallow end, so we could get out this fucking freezing water. It had just occurred to me that we had all the reason in the world to go in the little bathroom, lock the doors, strip, and jump in the shower.

Ha!

Karen and Mom had towels for us, and everyone was hugging us like we had just won an award. Baby brother was escorted upstairs, and I had Gwen follow me into the downstairs bathroom, lecturing me on how good clothing was to be treated.

“Gwen, thank you,” I said in the middle of something about dry cleaning or maybe spot cleaning.

Her mouth hung open for a minute, and she looked shocked.

“I love you,” I added seriously because at that moment, I loved everybody and everything.

She smiled at me, blinking, and she actually looked really pretty there for a moment. “Thanks for looking out for me, big sister,” I said.

She mumbled something inaudible and fled. I locked the door behind her, locked the one that led to the pool, and leapt under the hot water, wet pants and all.

I was going to fuck my little brother tonight. But for now, I would settle for jacking off, remembering how he looked sucking my dick, swallowing my cum, and creaming his fucking jeans doing it. I, the geeky dork of the family, had made him shoot a load in his pants. Dear god, just sucking cock did that—how would he react to sex?

My little brother just might be a cockslut.

And thinking about that, I blasted out another load on the tile.