Home for the Summer

By Natty Soltesz

I’m going to tell this story to the best of my abilities, though it’s been awhile since my friend told it to me.  I hope I can do it justice.

My friend’s name is Mitch.  That’s his real name, you can be sure, because I’m terrible at making them up.  Anyway, Mitch grew up in the house down the street from me, with his mom and dad and his older brother Brian.

I used to be pretty good friends with Mitch, but I lost contact with him once I went off to college.  Over the years I’d heard through the back-home gossip grapevine that Mitch was gay, and I was pretty sure he knew I was, too.  It was strange, because neither of us had been “out” in high school, and I’d always been hot for him.

Anyway, I was home for Thanksgiving one time, years after I’d graduated from college, and I stopped in at the local tavern. I saw Mitch there, we got to talking, and drinking.  Eventually he told me this story.


Mitch was a sophomore in high school at the time.  His brother Brian had been in college for a year.  He looked up to his brother, who was definitely the jock/overachiever type.  When his older brother came home for the summer, Mitch was looking forward to spending some time with him.

Now he’d known he was gay for a little while now.  And he was also pretty aware that his brother was a good-looking guy, even a hot guy, though he didn’t really let himself think of his brother in “that way.”  They were close, they’d seen each other naked numerous times, and they were comfortable talking about their bodies, talking about sex.  Mitch hadn’t really realized he was gay, however, until after his brother had left for college.  And now that his brother was back, and looking just about as good as he ever had, he felt a little weird around him.  Nervous.

Now I can definitely vouch for Mitch’s brother Brian being a good-looking guy.  He was your classic jock type, tall and fit, but with an incredibly toned and muscular body.  Nice pecs, tight ass, v-shape pelvis, the whole deal.  On top of that he had a handsome face with sandy blond hair.  Mitch looked a lot like him, only he was shorter.

So Mitch’s just hanging around the house all summer beating off and whatnot, while his brother is out mowing lawns and doing odd jobs around the neighborhood.  Then Brian is coming home all fucking sweaty and hot, and Mitch’s totally checking him out but at the same time trying to fight these thoughts, knowing they’re supposed to be unnatural.  He catches himself thinking of his brother while he’s beating off, and tries to force the thoughts out of his head.  But it’s of no use.

“Like if I told you, ‘Do not think of a white polar bear,’ that’d be exactly what you would think of.  You can’t control it,” he said to me.

But it’s not always tense between them.  Basically, they’re pretty glad to see each other, and they’re hanging out a lot, playing badminton in the backyard, trading information.  Being brotherly.  But Mitch can’t stop staring at his brother’s body.  He wants to touch it, play with it, explore it.  He can’t help it.  But he’s sure as hell going to keep it to himself.

So one day, Mitch’s feeling particularly horny, and his brother gets home from cutting the neighbor’s lawn.  Brian goes into his room, and shuts the door.  Mitch thinks of a reason to go to his brother’s room, sort of thinking in the back of his head that maybe he can catch a glimpse of his brother’s half naked (or fully naked) body, but not really articulating that thought to himself.  He’s just thinking, “Brian will want to see this new comic I got.”  So he goes to his brother’s door and he knocks, and Brian answers it.

He’s still in his shorts, his tanned, muscular body gleaming with sweat.  He lets Mitch in, though he seems a little distracted, and Mitch shows him the comic and asks him what he’s up to right now.

Brian gets a queer look on his face, and for a minute it seems like he’s debating something in his mind.  Then his face spreads into a grin, like he’s thinking fuck it, whatever.

“I was gonna check out some of my porn.  I brought a bunch of it back from school,” he says.  Mitch’s heart leaps into his chest, his stomach bunches up into a pink, fleshy knot, but he keeps his cool.  His brother pulls a cardboard box out of his closet. “Check out all this shit,” he says.  It’s filled with a veritable treasure trove of porn:  Playboys, Penthouse Forums, videos, comix.  All kinds of stuff.

“Oh, man,” Mitch says, definitely excited.  Even though he’s gay, he likes straight porn.  Pretty much anything will do when you’re at that age.

“Have at it,” Brian says, and they both start rifling through the box.  Mitch takes out a couple of magazines, and makes some attempts at favorable comments on the naked girls in the pages.  “You can borrow anything you want,” Brian says.  “I know what it was like at your age.”

Brian pulls out a video, Anal Black Cheerleader Gang-Bang or something like that.  “This one’s really hot,” he says, and without further ado, he just walks right over to his VCR and pops it inside.  Then he flips on the TV and sits back on the chair.

“This is the best scene,” Brian says, rewinding the tape with a remote control.  Mitch is sitting on the edge of the bed, still looking through the box out of nervousness, but glancing up at the video.  He can’t see his brother unless he turns his head.  On the TV, a black girl is sucking on a white guy’s enormous cock.

Now up until this point, Mitch hasn’t really seen that much hardcore porn.  His family doesn’t have a computer, so his only exposure to it was at a sleepover at another boy’s house, when the four of them nervously stole a porn tape out of his father’s den and watched it with the volume turned way down.  He’d been hard as a rock then, and he was sure his friends had been, too, but nothing had happened.  They’d watched the tape, blew a few of their innocent minds in the process, and went to sleep with wet dreams dancing in their heads.

But this is different.  He’s with his brother, for one thing, in the privacy of his brother’s room, and even though he’s got this weird fascination—bordering on infatuation—with his brother’s body, he’s still more comfortable here than he was at the sleepover. His brother’s being totally cool with him, treating him like an equal.

They’re both watching the movie, and it doesn’t take Mitch more than a second to get a full hard on.  Still, his brother is making funny comments about the movie, and he joins in so he won’t sound like a total idiot.  “That guy’s dick is huge,” Mitch says, and his brother agrees.  “That’s why this scene is so hot,” his brother adds.

Just then he thinks he hears something from behind him, that just might be the sound of elastic stretching and softly snapping back, but he doesn’t dare turn around.  He’s beside himself, going back and forth between absently looking at the porn in the box, and watching the movie.  Eventually he hears it, the unmistakable sound of wet flesh being manipulated, of tense, tight breathing coming from behind him.

Mitch freezes.  What the fuck is he supposed to do?  Turn around?  Say something lame like, “Are you beating off?”  Finally, his brother owns up.

“So fuckin horny,” his brother says.  Mitch turns around, and there it is.  His brother’s got his shorts around his thighs, and his thick prick in his hand.  His cock is gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight, wet with pre-cum or sweat, he can’t tell, and it’s big.  Just about his big as his own, no–bigger. It’s hard to tell.  Underneath it sit a pair of soft balls, a curling thicket of light brown pubes. Nothing he hasn’t glanced at before, but at this moment it seems completely different to him, almost alien.

Brian returns his glance.  “Gotta beat off,” he says.  “You don’t mind, do you?”

Not that he thinks Brian would quit, even if Mitch did mind.  As if.

“No,” Mitch says, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.  No, don’t care if you beat off right here in the room with me.  Most natural thing in the world.  Don’t let me cramp your style.  Sure.  Whatever.  Mitch turns back to the movie, to the porn, not sure if he’s coming or going, leaving or staying.  No, definitely staying.  But what is he supposed to do?

His brother starts to say something behind him, then he stops.  He clears his throat.  Mitch turns around.

“Do you ever, like, play with your balls, when you beat off?”  Brian asks, jiggling his balls in his free hand to illustrate.

“Yeah,” Mitch says, and he laughs mostly out of nervousness, but his brother picks it up and the laughter seems to diffuse the situation somewhat, takes it down a notch on the newness factor.  “Dude, you can beat off too, if you want to.”

Mitch almost tells him no.  Almost wants to run right out of the room and leave his brother to his own devices, retreat.  But that would be stupid – no – inconceivable.  So he puts the box aside and he feels his hard cock underneath his shorts.  Maybe not as big as Brian’s, he thinks, but still pretty big.  And I’ve got a nice patch of pubes.

He stands up, and even though he’s still turned to the TV he can feel that his brother is watching him, is just as curious about his body as he is about his brother’s, and there’s a comfort in that, a cold comfort.  Because when you get right down to it this is the most insane and frightening thing that’s ever happened to him.

He pulls down his shorts and his cock pops right out, hard as a rocket and there’s no denying that, but he sits down quickly and focuses his eyes on the movie, even though his mind is in several hundred different places right then, none of which have anything to do with what’s happening on that TV screen.

But it plays.  The black cheerleader bends over for the guy, and he’s sliding that big dick in her pussy.  Mitch wraps his hand around his prick and gives it a stroke, and it’s really not that strange, really it isn’t.  Just like riding a bicycle, jerking off is, never mind the fact that his brother is three feet behind him, doing exactly the same thing.

They don’t say anything for a while, just beat their meat.  Mitch swears he can feel his brother’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t dare look back.

“Awww, this part’s really hot,” his brother says, and he turns up the volume on the TV.  The white guy is slathering something onto the black chick’s a-hole, and then he’s pressing that big dick inside.  She’s going crazy, moaning out in pain or pleasure, it’s hard to tell which.  Maybe both.

“Yeah.  Shit.  Have you ever seen anything like that?” his brother asks him.

“No,” he says truthfully.  And then Brian does it.  The one thing that, even though it’s subtle, changes the scene completely. He gets up from his chair and pulls it right next to where Mitch is sitting.  So now they’re right there beside each other, beating their cocks, and there’s no pretense about anything now.  His brother is watching him jerk off.  Inviting Mitch to look at him jerking off. And they do this, Mitch taking tentative glances at first, then relaxing as he realizes his brother is gazing steadily at him, the movie all but forgotten.

“Your dick’s pretty big, actually.  Bigger than I remember mine being at your age.”

Brian reaches over and takes Mitch’s dick in his hand.  Time stops.  Mitch has to fight the urge to cum right then and there.  His hands hover right over where he’d been wanking himself, seconds before.  Now his brother is doing it for him, stroking it, looking right at it as he does it, like he’s mesmerized.

So Mitch puts his hands down on the bed.  Leans back, and lets his brother beat him off.  It’s the most incredible thing he’s ever felt.

“You ever have anyone do this before?” Brian asks him.  Mitch shakes his head, shakes the trance.  “My friends and I do this sometimes.  It’s no big deal.”  Brian turns back to the movie, strokes his own cock with his right hand while he strokes his brother’s dick in the other.  “So fucking horny,” he says.

They continue like this for a few minutes that seem to stretch on like hours, the sweat collecting on their bodies, pre-cum flowing and mixing with the sweat so Brian’s palms are slick, pounding their poles in unison.  Mitch wants to feel his brother’s dick, but the chair is too low in relation to the bed to just nonchalantly reach over, without straining a little to reach it, maybe making too much of a show of it, or at least making more deliberate movement that Mitch just isn’t bold enough to make.

“You want to feel mine?”  Brian asks, and he doesn’t give Mitch any time to respond, and Mitch’s thinking in his head that any response, negative or affirmative, would be embarrassing anyway.

Brian stands before him.  And the smell—it had always been present though he’d forgotten to mention it until this point in the story—the smell is overpowering. His brother’s sweat slicked sheen, a clean scent that he said he could still smell in his mind right now.  His brother stands before him, putting his dick right there, ripe for the picking.  Go on, touch, feel, stroke, whatever.  It’s yours.

Mitch tentatively reaches out his hand, touches his fingers to his brother’s dick.  He can’t describe the feeling of that, can’t even try.  But his brother’s dick is hard and smooth and thick hot and sweaty, and he wraps his hand around it, feeling the power there, and he strokes it up and down.  His brother watches him.

“Stand up,” he says, so Mitch stands up, and his brother is right there before him, all the muscular athletic sweetly-smelling mass of him.  Brian takes Mitch’s dick into his hand, and they stroke each other off like that, there in his brother’s room, when nobody’s home.

Nobody’s home, Mitch remembers, and it’s kind of a freeing thought.  It relaxes him a little.  My buddies do this sometimes. It’s no big deal.

They start getting into it, fully involved in the business of getting themselves and each other off.  Mitch reaches down to cup his brother’s balls in his hands, which is vocally appreciated.  Then he runs his hand up to his brother’s flat stomach, feeling it just like he’s felt it in his fantasies, where it’d been so close yet so far.  He runs it across the flat, sweaty tan expanse of it, moving it up up up…suddenly he takes his hand away.  He thinks maybe he’s gone to far, rewrote the rules to suit himself.  Maybe Brian’s buddies keep their hands strictly on each other’s dicks.  How can you be sure?

“No, no, you can,” his brother says, taking his hand and putting it back on his body.  He keeps hold of Mitch’s hand for a minute, running it up and down his chest, across his slab-like pecs, fat nipples and bulging shoulders.  Then Brian lets his hand fall back to his side, and Mitch takes up exploration of his brother’s magnificent body, sliding it across the taut muscles underneath the smoothness of his fresh, sweat-sheened skin.

“You like my body?” his brother asks, and his voice takes on a different tone for the first time.  The question almost sounds like a come-on.  “Feel it,” he says.  “Touch it all you want.  Wherever you want.”  Mitch takes his hand off his brother’s dick, feeling he needs two hands for this job.  Brian raises his arms and puts his hands behind his head, giving Mitch free reign.  His brother’s body is beautiful, a work of art really.  He explores every inch of his chest, down to his stomach, his thick thighs and muscular calves.  He slides his hand back, on to the small of his brother’s back, glides it down to his tight, sweaty ass.  It’s hard as a rock and smooth as marble, and he’s mesmerized.

His hands move back to his brother’s dick, both of his hands wrapped around that pole, and his brother stays like that, hands behind his head.  Do whatever you want.

Mitch sits back down on the bed, both hands still on his brother’s rock hard cock.  He’s thinking it.  He’s definitely thinking it.

“You can suck it if you want,” his brother says in a quiet breath, but still Mitch hesitates.  He’s never sucked a cock before. “Just lick it.  Or put your mouth around the end of it.  Taste it.”  He does all of these things, and in that order.  Soon he’s got the head of his brother’s big, tasty dick in his mouth, and he’s taking it in as far as he can go, relying for direction half on fantasies of what he wants to do, and what he would want done to himself.  “Stroke me while you’re doing it.  Oh yeah.  Fuck yeah,” his brother continues still in a conspiratorial whisper.  Mitch continues and it is amazing, he’s pretty much loving it, but it is kind of new and he is kind of unsure of himself, so he takes his mouth off for a little while and sits back on the bed, waiting for more direction from Brian.

“You want me to suck you?” his brother asks, another of those questions that don’t really need any answer.  His brother gets down on his knees before him, and sucks his cock right into his mouth and down his throat like a vacuum cleaner.  Clearly, he knows what he’s doing, but whether that’s from previous experience or just generally being older and smarter about how to do things, Mitch cannot say.  He kind of suspects the former, though.

The warmth, the slickness of feeling something like a mouth and a tongue slide down your dick—for the first time, no less—well, it’s only a matter of seconds before Mitch’s cum is rising out of his balls.  Brian doesn’t slow down at all, he picks up speed, bobbing up and down on his brother’s prick like it’s going out of style.

“I’m gonna cum,” Mitch manages to squeak out, and whether his brother didn’t hear him or did hear him and didn’t care, or did hear him and didn’t think he was serious, quickly becomes irrelevant.  The cum comes flying out of him, just as surely and unstoppably insistent as the bullet coming out of a gun, and his big brother Brian doesn’t flinch, just sucks away, gulps it down, swallows it all.

Mitch is catching his breath, still, when Brian stands up, his prick looking impossibly even harder, the veins standing out in blood-fattened relief.  Brian says nothing, just holds onto his little brother’s shoulder as he takes hold of his meat, giving it two or three quick, angry strokes before it explodes onto Mitch’s body, searingly hot streams of cum splattering, running down his face and chest. He reaches out his tongue and tastes some of the load of the end of his brother’s prick, finds it’s not half bad.  Very much like his own.  He licks where some of it has collected around his lips.  Very much like his own, but somehow hotter.

Brian steps back and shakes the last few drops of cum onto the carpet.  He wipes his mouth, then grabs a towel from the floor of his closet and wipes his mouth and dick on that.  He hands the towel to Mitch.

“Here,” he says.  “Shit, I covered you.”  He turns off the porn while Mitch wipes the cum off his body, even though he was kind of enjoying the feel of it, covering him.

“Mom and Dad are gonna be home soon,” his brother says.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“You want to take a shower first?”

“Yeah I guess so,” Mitch says.  He says he wasn’t disappointed that his brother didn’t offer to take a shower with him, even though the thought of it crossed his mind.  It was actually kind of nice to get some distance from him, just come down from it a little.

Everything had changed and nothing had changed, he told me.  They ate dinner that night just like they always had, and afterwards they sat around and watched a movie that their dad had rented.

Nothing happened for the next couple of days, and then it happened again.  It was never discussed, but it kept happening, again and again, all summer long.

Brian moved back to school in August, and never returned to live at home again.  Eventually he got married.

“I’ll never forget any of it,” Mitch told me.  “It was the best summer of my life.  The most crazy, insane, out of control thing that ever happened to me.”

I asked him if it had fucked him up.  He said it hadn’t.  It had felt fine, everything about it, and he never felt like he was fucking up the laws of nature, or anything like that.

But as we drank more beer, I managed to get out of him that he did have some problems being around his brother now, that that was even one of the reasons he was out of the house tonight, drinking his mind away.  His brother was there, at home, still hot as ever, lying with his wife beside him, and still so many things were unclear. He wondered if Brian remembered the things they’d done, and more than that, he wondered how Brian remembered them.

“Sometimes I think I’m still infatuated with him,” Mitch said.  “Sometimes I think, you know, nobody’ll ever measure up.”

We got a motel room and fucked, Mitch and I, that Thanksgiving night.  And even though we were both into it, as drunk and horny as we were, and we both shot enormous loads, I couldn’t help but wonder, as Mitch tasted the remnants of my load off the end of my cock, if it tasted as good to him as his big brother Brian’s had, all those years ago.