My little brother has always been James -- not Jim, not Jimmy, not Jimmer,
not Jay -- just James.
Since he was five-years-old, he preferred his full identity. He was
barely out of training pants before he was correcting the foolish adults
who dared to invent a diminutive. I guess I knew even then he was a
demanding little man in a little boy's body.
Me? I'm Marky...four years older than him. When this story took place, I
was 15 and he was 11.
No name rules required when you talk about me. The "y" has been at the
end of my "Mark" since before I can remember. I figure the longer I keep
it, the longer it'll be before I'm forced to grow up. So, call me Marky.
Baby-talk me. I don't mind at all.
James was a blond boy -- a striking contrast to my own dark brown hair.
Mine was lighter too at his age, but darkened as I entered puberty and my
body decided to take off in its own random directions.
I was proud of my brown hair and matching brown pubes. Nothing special.
Nothing more than any of the other guys I eyed up and down in the locker
room, lustfully and secretly. I was comfortably equal. Normal. No cause
for developmental alarm, but no cause for cocky showing-off either. I had
what they had. It worked fine for me.
James was lighter, softer -- his pubic hair was wispy and straight, just
coming in -- not curled and obvious like mine -- but downy and nearly
invisible -- his body just entering that delicious, mysterious stage
between boy and teen.
I don't think I really harbored any lustful, deviant sexual desires toward
my younger brother. I knew he was an attractive boy -- no, actually a
pretty boy -- with light blue eyes and fair, soft skin. It was the kind
of skin that glows a youthful perfection, unblemished and creamy --
shining sweetly in any light. The kind I would have wanted to touch and
taste if he hadn't been my brother.
I was well aware of my own impending homosexuality -- something I viewed
with a curious mix of unfazed tingling and dooming eventuality. I wasn't
quite sure I wanted to be gay at 15, but I knew my sailboat was headed
toward that particular shore, and unless the wind changed drastically,
there wasn't much I could do but lay out on the deck, look at the boys in
the locker room and enjoy the waves.
"Hey Marky," James said, smiling at me slyly. "I learned something from
this girl in school today. Wanna see it?"
I looked up from my monitor where I was working on a book report for
English. Bored out of my mind. Fuckleberry Fucking Finn.
He was standing in my doorway in shorts and a t-shirt. I think he was
already hard, but I couldn't tell from a distance. I'd seen him jacking
off before, so I knew it was possible. I used to peek my head in his door
at night, passing in the hall on my way to the bathroom. I stole secret
glances and watched him writhing in his own self-delight, smiling at the
memories of my own, earlier, erotic discoveries. When James jacked off,
he liked do it with his ass propped up on a pillow. Arched. Eager. He
did it slow. Much slower than I did.
I didn't think much of it then. I was trying not to think too much of it
now.
His sweet, perfectly shaped toes scrunched into the carpet as he stood
there in my doorway, waiting for an answer. I shut off the monitor and
turned to him, giving him my full attention.
"Sure," I shrugged. "Whadja learn, kiddo?"
"Butterfly kisses," he giggled. "Want one?"
I smiled. "As long as it doesn't fucking hurt."
He laughed and came over to my chair. He climbed up on my lap, straddling
me, and threw his arms around my neck, giving me a hug. I wasn't shocked
by it. James was affectionate. Not yet old enough to be shy about
sitting on his brother's lap and showing his closeness. He was only a
kid. Kids hug.
"I won't hurt you, Marky," he grinned. "Trust me."
That I did.
"Okay," he giggled. "I'm gonna butterfly kiss you. All you have to do is
relax and close your eyes."
I did. Half amused. Half bored in that patient, just-get-it-over-with
older brother way. I wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do. I didn't
quite trust myself to react the right way.
As soon as he saw that my eyes were closed, he nuzzled my neck slightly
with the top of his head. The reaction was instantaneous. His hair
against my neck sent a surge of blood to my groin, and half-embarrassed, I
could feel myself beginning to get hard under his childish weight. His
ass was on my lap -- sharp bones almost digging into my legs. Under
different circumstances it would have been painful. At this particular
moment, as I breathed in and smelled his wonderful, clean hair, all I
could feel was arousal.
"Now," he said simply. "Check this out."
He raised his head to my face and rested his right eye on my cheek.
Lightly, with a feather touch, he began flickering his eyelash up and down
at frantic speed, sending a burst of tickles all the way up my spine -- my
nerve endings flailing wildly to keep up with the sudden burst of sensory
input. It was a sweet, soft, fluttering feeling -- not hard enough to be
uncomfortable -- but just enough to arouse me to a level I hadn't been
expecting. I sighed and shivered. He laughed.
"That's butterfly kisses," he explained proudly, hugging me again.
"Wow," I said. "That felt really cool."
"It made you get hard," he giggled.
"Yeah," I blushed. "If you keep that up, you're gonna have to leave so I
can jack off."
He did it again...fluttering eyelashes sweeping across my cheeks...my
forehead... my chin...the top of my eyelids.
He squirmed on my lap and felt my hard cock pressing between his ass
cheeks.
"Mmmm," he smiled. "You are getting hard. Wanna do stuff?"
I was trapped between brotherly sensibility and erotic longing. So, I
wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him.
"Maybe that's enough butterfly kisses for one day," I smiled weakly. "Any
more of those and I'm going to cum on the carpet."
He looked at me and smiled.
"Why waste it on the floor?" he shrugged innocently.
Before I could stop him, he was off my lap, kneeling between my knees and
rubbing my dick through my shorts.
"Oh my God," I gasped as his hand began stroking my cock through the silky
fabric. "What are you doing?"
"Shhhhh," he insisted, as he reached for the elastic of my waistband and
tugged my shorts and underwear off.
He buried his face in my pubic hair and began breathing in....a soft,
gentle nuzzling that sent me to full hardness, if I wasn't already there
before.
I reached for his small head and caressed his hair, running my fingers up
and down across his tiny ears as his mouth came closer to the tip of my
straining cock. With surprising skill, he wrapped his lips around me and
began to suck...something I never even conceived at 11, much less
experienced.
His mouth was wet. Well lubricated. He took me into his throat almost
instantly, and entirely forgetting he was my brother, I groaned and
lurched forward, pushing myself into him. He gagged. Coughed a little.
Reached up and started stroking my chest. But he didn't stop. His mouth
continued to take me in. Sweetly, slowly. Very, impossibly deeply.
I'm not sure how long we sat like that -- James on his knees, sucking me
up and down -- me leaning back on the chair, moaning and blissful.
Suddenly, we were on my bed -- I don't know how -- but in minutes --
there we were, head to toe, sixty-nining, engulfing each other, twisting
and pushing, eager to please each other, enjoying the unexpected heat of
each others' eager lips.
His dick was small. Rock hard. As eager as mine.
My hand slid across his back, kneaded his butt cheeks, and came to rest at
the small hole between them. My finger prodded out and ran slow circles
around the entrance of his sweet, tiny, buttonhole entrance. I lubed it
with spit. I twirled it around his entrance. Began gently prodding,
pushing it into him. He groaned. Pushed up against it, wanting more. I
was amazed at his hunger.
"Wanna fuck me?" he asked simply. "I really want it bad."
"Oh, yes," I moaned. I was so hard. So hot. So eager for him.
He raised himself up and straddled my stomach. I was in heaven,
anticipating.
Leaning down, he kissed my lips. A sweet tongue kiss, full of unexplored
passion. His mouth was sweet. It tasted like sugar. Like Kool-Aid.
Like a million different boy things. I wanted to consume him.
He slid into position.
Spitting on his hand, he covered his hole with wetness. He did the same
to my dick and poised himself over the top of me.
"Marky," he moaned, sliding down slowly on my dick, engulfing it sweetly
in his tight, young hole. All around me, there was nothing but warmth and
tightness and the sweet, sweaty smell of his shaking, eager body. A drop
of sweat trickled from his forehead and ran down the side of his cheek. I
reached up, brushed it from his face with my index finger, and with closed
eyes, brought it to my lips and tasted it. Salt. Beautiful, sweet boy
salt. It danced on my taste buds and made me harder. Made me push up
into him, burying myself full in his stretching, tight channel.
With no embarrassment or hesitation, he cried out, "Mmmm, owww...good!"
I watched the strained look on his face. I knew I was hurting him. But I
knew it was a good hurt. I could tell by the way that he moved on me, he
wanted more.
I pressed forward. He began riding me, sliding slowly up and down my
spit-slickened pole, sending waves of vibration down the length of my
spine. I reached out and grabbed his ass and guided him up and down,
squeezing and kneading his soft, white cheeks -- pulling him down on my
dick -- filling him to the limit of my ability. He was so hot inside.
His eyes were closed. He shook with every inward thrust I made.
His whispers were soft, erratic.
"You're fucking me," he moaned sweetly. "It feels so good, Marky. Fuck
me more. Fuck me faster."
I shoved up. Grabbing his ass and guiding him, I slid my cock in and out
of his virgin hole, watching him shake, listening to him whimper, amazed
that he was taking me.
"Shoot your cum in me," he begged. "I've seen you cum. Put it in me.
Put it way up deep inside of me."
I was lost. I thrust into him wildly, bucking my hips in a rapid, jerking
pace. Past the point of no return, I grabbed his ass, pulled him down as
far as he could go, and shot my load of sticky, hot cum, deep into his
bowels. His whole body twitched -- tensed -- his ass muscles clenched,
sucking my juice deep inside of him.
I laid there panting as he twisted and writhed on my still-hard cock,
jacking himself furiously as he rubbed my dick against his prostate.
"Fucking you, fucking you..." he gasped in amazement, as his whole body
locked into an unbelievable shudder. I watched in awe as a thin trickle
of semen shot from his dick and landed on my stomach. I reached down and
captured it with my hand. I pressed it to his lips, and eyes still closed
and moaning, he sucked it from my fingers.
He collapsed on my chest and I held him -- stroking his soft back with my
fingertips, listening to him breathe heavily into my neck, already near
sleep.
I rolled him over me and held him, side by side.
Resting my eye on his cheek, I butterfly kissed him as he slipped into
instant slumber -- his young hands around my neck, sighing, breathing,
sleeping sweetly.
My baby boychild. My James. My brother.
I've lived a lifetime and never known a sweeter butterfly.
___________________________________________________
END
