Shortly after my eighteenth birthday was the first time. It was comfortable on the couch with my head in my older brother's lap, rolling my cheek so gently up and down his hardened cock, his rough fingertips lightly brushing my temple as his hand rested on my soft blonde ponytail.
What is it if he thinks I'm asleep? What is it if he knows I'm not? What is the vanishing point of sex and lucidity?
We had slept like this in the living room many times growing up. It was no big deal. I'd often fall asleep, he would wake me up after the late show or whatever, then we'd go to our rooms and go to bed.
Then, we grew up.
Neither one of us knew what really existed on the other side of the blanket separating us, anymore but there was no denying that the rhythm and intensity of that infinitesimal rolling pressure, was linked with his caress.
It began with the light gyration of my head. He exhaled a soft whisper.
"Mmm ..."
His fingers in my hair slightly increase their speed. I feel his cock begin to swell from under the blanket against my cheek.
"God ... " Almost inaudible. I am unsure if it is only my imagination.
I increase the pressure of my head against him, feeling his fingers press just a little more firmly. A breath faintly escapes his lips
. "Yeah ... that ... that's ..."
He pushes himself up against me, his fingers speed up just a little bit as they blend strands of my hair.
"Mmm—oh ... oh yes ..." His whisper is so faint, perhaps only to be heard by himself.
I slowly transition from a gyration to a straight up and down motion so that the back of my head comes to a stop at the tip of his cock. I press down with several short, milking strokes before slowly rolling my head back down his hard shaft. My heart jumps. I think I might have heard my name.
"oh yeah 'Km' "
He continues to softly moan under his breath as I roll my cheek over his hard cock and come to a stop, face down with my lips pressing against the base.
I am fighting to control myself. I bite at his cock with my lips through the blanket as if by reflex. His whisper grows louder as he strains to contain
it.
" I can't ... ohh ... oh goddamn ..."
His hand presses the back of my head. I help him to ejaculate with short back and forth pumps with my lips as they are being held against the base. His whisper makes intermittent contact with his vocal
cords as he tenses and jerks.
"I-I'I'm oh unh unh Kmm."
He is holding me down. I can feel the throbbing muscles of his veined pole as they flex and squirt cum into his pants. I feel his hands continue to hold me in place until it fades. He loosens and exhales slowly.
He knew it happened. I knew it happened. A real, physical event, throbbing and jerking against my cheek, pulsing and undulating as my lips were pressed against the blanket.
The absence of mutuality and acknowledgment caused an electrifying tension during every moment of the days that followed. A bizarre tolerance developed, but there was still unfinished business.
Several weeks had passed, and I found myself frequently attempting to steer our conversations toward any topic where sexual overtones could be introduced.
"Have you ever been to a bachelor party?" I asked my brother, as he sifted through a large box of videotapes he bought at a garage sale earlier that day.
"No, why do you ask?" He does not break his fascination with one particular cassette in his hands.
"Oh, I don't know," I began, "my friend said her older brother went to one, and they had this woman dressed as a nurse with a gigantic hypoderm— "
He is clearly not listening to a word of this. He is absorbed by whatever is printed on the tape's bright pink sleeve.
"Steve, are you listening to me?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm listening." He hunched his shoulders. "Jesus Christ, it's cold tonight, I hope the furnace repair guy comes tomorrow," he said.
He tossed the tape to the side, separate from the others he was sorting through, and rapidly rubbed his palms together, stopping briefly to blow clouds of condensed vapor into them. Now he is ready to pretend I have his full attention
"So yeah, you said there was a gigantic nurse and—"
"Oh, skip it." I gestured to the pink-sleeved tape he had been examining. "What was it about that tape that is was interesting?"
He looked around. "What tape?" He picked up the pink tape I was pointing at. "Oh, this? It's just a tape."
"Can I see?" I held my hand out. An icy draft swept under the comforter. I pulled it around my extended arm to seal out the cold.
He handed me the tape. "It's an 'adult movie,' " he admitted dismissively. He quickly grabbed another tape without looking at it, and inserted it into the deck.
"Cool! A 'porno!' " I exclaimed. I read the sleeve. "Ooo! 'Three Men and a Maybe.' " I slid the tape out of its sleeve. "Rambo?"
"What?" He whirled around to the screen as the copyright warning changed to a rapid assortment of clips depicting various sexual activities. "Fuck!"
I giggled as he franticly jabbed at the front panel. "Oh, let it play!" I teased him, adding, "What's the matter, scared you'll get a boner?"
"Yeah, right," he said, as the tape ejected.
If he only knew,
I thought to myself,
how many times I've snuck into his room and jerked off to his private collection when he's not around!
He took another tape from the box, slipped off the cover and flipped it over several times before inserting it. He rapidly hugged himself against the cold as he came over to the couch where I was lying. I lifted my head, and rested it in his lap as he sat back down.
"J-Jesus! It's fucking freezing in here!" he said, helping me pull the comforter around us as I rolled on to my side. I turned and looked up.
"Ever seen one of those movies?" I asked.
"What movies? Oh, the porno? Maybe," he said in a very casual tone.
I turned my head back on its side. "You meant 'a' porno, didn't you?" I covered my mouth with my fingers.
