My Brother And Me Ch 03

"Checking out my dick?" I said, somewhat startled. "What in the hell for?" There was obviously a lot I didn't know about whore-houses. So, Kris and I spent some time that evening going over basic brothel etiquette.

"Here's how it'll go down," Kris told me. "We'll walk in, and you'll be offered your choice of the girls. Since it's gonna be your birthday treat from me, I'll let you choose first."

"Then, the girl you've chosen will lead you through a door, back into the cribs. I know there's a urinal hanging there in the hall, and ..."

"Wait a second!" I interrupted Kris. "Do you have ESP or something? How do you know there's a urinal hanging there in the hall?"

"Oh," responded Kris, "I've been to Janie's Ranch before."

"Really," I said. "And when was that?"

"Well, if you want the whole story, let's stoke the fire, get a cigar, and get comfortable."

We took care of those chores, and Kris then said: "You know my buddy Pat. Do you remember his dad, Milton?"

"Sure do. He was killed last year in that trucking accident."

"Yep," Kris said. "What a hell of a deal that was. He was a good provider to his family, and a good father to Pat and the other boys. Raised them right, he did. He sorta stepped in as a father figure for me, too ... once our own dad split when you were 4 and I was 6. Helped me out a lot. Milton was a horny old goat though."

"Oh really? I never knew that."

"Yep," continued Kris. "Over the years, he tried most of the cat-houses in Nevada, when he'd be passing through in his big rig. He said Janie's Ranch was one of his favorites. A casual place where a man can pay a few bucks, get serviced, and not have to deal with a bunch of fancy crap that a guy doesn't need."

"Anyway," my brother continued, "do you recall that I am 3 weeks older than Pat? Well, a couple years ago, just after Pat's 21st birthday, Milton took Pat and me to Janie's. And that's how I know there is a urinal in the hall!"

"As I was saying, I'd advise you to step up and use that pisser, and drain your snake. Your lady will probably watch you piss, and then check your cock out. She'll be looking for any open sores, or any other obvious problems. If you don't have a boner already, having her handling your pecker will probably get you rock hard."

"I suspect so!"

"Not to worry though," said Kris. "She's used to handling a guy's tool, and if it's not already stiff, she'll get it hard for you. Remember, her job is to get you hard, and then get your rocks off, either with her snatch, her mouth, her hand ... however you want it."

"Can I have it all?" I asked.

"If you can pay for it! Just tell her you want a straight lay. I'll make sure you have plenty of money in your pocket to pay for it. Since you're there to pop your cherry, you don't need any frills. You'll be plenty amped up just knowing you'll soon be getting into the babe's cunt. Anyway, she'll tell you the price, and you'll pay her. She'll leave the room to go settle things with the madam, and while she's gone you're to strip."

"Naked?" I asked.

"Yep, buck naked," said Kris. "When she comes back, she'll remove her gown. And then, bro, she'll make a man out of you. So that's about all you need to know. Don't worry Kurt, you'll do fine."

Still a bit nervous I asked "Will my dick pass muster, Kris?"

"Well, little brother, I didn't see any problems with it when I jacked you off last night. And let me tell you, I'll never crack wise about your 'tiny little pecker' again. Matter of fact, I now know you're pretty damned well-hung!!"

"You've seen my cock a zillion times before, Kris."

"Yeah, but never hard. I was amazed by the difference between your soft, flaccid dick and the size of that monster you're packing when you've got a woody going! My own cock, as you well know, Kurt, is about 6" soft, and about 6 1/2" when I've got a hard-on."

"Don't I know it. I love your cock, Kris."

"Fuck, Kurt, You've got nothing to hide. So what if your pecker is 2 1/2" soft? It becomes a fucking monster when you pop a hard-on. It's a good 6 or more inches long, and way thicker than mine. When I jacked you last night, I could barely get my hand around that big male unit."

"I wonder if maybe the milk-man got into Mom's pants about 9 months before I was born?" I asked Kris. "Your cock is so different than mine. You'd think that the all-male parts of two guys who were supposedly shot from the same sperm-gun would be damn near identical."

"I don't know, Kurt. In the locker room it seems like every guy's prick is different, and you know some of those guys are brothers just like us. All sorts of shapes, sizes, and even how differently the fuckers dangle ... some just hang down like mine, some just look small and shy like yours, hiding in the guy's pubic hair, and some of those ugly fuckers kind of jut out from the guy's groin, sort of like they're pointing at something. Hell, you've seen the differences. I just never thought much about what a guy's prick, other than my own, would be like when he's hard."

"Didn't you have any jack-off buddies whose cocks went from small to major fucking meat?"

"Nah," Kris said. "Pat and I used to sneak behind the garage and beat off together, but his prick's a lot like mine. 6" soft, 6 1/2" hard, and about the same girth all the time. Other than his I've never been around any stiff dicks."

"Until last night, Kurt, I didn't know that a seemingly small cock would grow into such a major horn-dog when it got stiff and excited. If you want the truth, bro, when I knew you were playing with my cock a couple of years back, when you thought I was asleep, I thought it was because your own pecker was little, and you wanted to see what a guy's big tool felt like. After last night, I certainly know different."

"I wonder about dad's cock. Maybe it is just like yours, and the milkman really did knock mom up 9 months prior to my birthday . . ."

"Anything's possible, Kurt. Since you brought it up, one of my vivid memories about dad does have to do with our cocks. I remember a family outing to a ball game when I was 5. Before we found our seats, mom took you with her to use the bathroom. However, dad told her: 'Wanda, I'll take Kris with me. He's old enough to learn how to act in the Men's Room.' Boy, was I proud!!"

"Anyway, he took me into the Men's Room, which had one of those piss walls. You know, where you stand there and pee against the wall, and there's a little trough in the floor where all the guy's piss flows away to a drain. Anyway, dad showed me how to step up, unzip my pants, and fish my little weenie out through the fly in my underpants. And then, with my little dick pointed at the wall, I was to take my whiz. He did the same thing, and we stood there side by side."

"When we finished our piss, he showed me that a guy just stood there, shook all the drips off the end of his peter, and then tucked everything back in and zipped up .... and only after you had your zipper back up did you step away from the pisser."

"Besides telling me, he was showing me. The 2 things I'll always remember about dad's penis: he was a grown man, and however large it was, it looked massive to me; and his pecker was uncircumcised. I asked him how come his peter looked different than mine, and he forked back his foreskin, and I saw he had a big ugly cock-head, that looked about like mine, except of course bigger. I asked him when I'd grow skin over the head of my peter like he had. He got quite a laugh about that, and he said 'Don't worry Kris. Your peter is normal. I'll explain the skin difference to you when you get a little older.' "

"Why'd we get cut when he wasn't?" I asked Kris.

"Just the way things were at that point in time, Kurt. I'm glad as hell that I was circumcised as a baby though. I remember all through school, about 98% of the dicks I saw had their heads exposed like mine was. I sure wouldn't have wanted to be the odd man out, would you?"

"Nope," I told Kris. "Now that we're grown men though, having the 'skin might be kinda fun. It's what a guy's used to I guess. You're right though: all the cocks I saw growing up looked like mine in the fact that the cock-head was exposed."

I then said, "All this talk about cocks is giving me a boner, man. When are we heading for Janie's Ranch?"

Kris looked at his watch and said "Well, Kurt, our campfire's burned down nicely, so it shouldn't be a problem, and it's almost 11:00 on Saturday night. If you're sure you're ready for this, let's head on up there."

"I can't fucking wait, Kris!"

We then each took a final draw on our cigars, threw the butts into the fire, and took a chug from the whiskey bottle.

It took maybe 20 minutes to drive to Janie's from our camp. It was a fairly quiet trip ... my brother and I were each lost in our own horny male thoughts. The flashing red beacon was visible the whole way, through the clear desert night air. Every time it flashed, I felt a throb of anticipation in my groin.

When we pulled into Janie's a big rig was just leaving. A couple more were off to one side. A car and a couple pick-ups were parked in the dirt lot out in front. Kris pulled up and parked.

We sat a moment, and he asked "Are you sure you want to go through with this, bro? Once we get out of this truck, there's no turning back."

"I'm ready, Kris. And the answer is not just yes, but HELL YES, I want to do this!"

"Okay, little brother. Here we go! This is something you're gonna remember for the rest of your life!"

As Kris told me that, we got out of his truck, and headed for the door of the brothel called Janie's Ranch.

more soon . . .