I hadn't realized why I was frequently attracted to younger men until my brother Roger visited us for three days last November. It had begun as a tragedy. Roger was just a year younger than me when we learned our parents were killed in an air accident; the incident was particularly newsworthy because of the spectacularly horrible way in which the airliner had plowed through a Southern California neighborhood. Television and newspaper coverage kept the awful circumstances before our eyes for days thereafter. We were alone in our home for three days, awaiting our aunt and uncle from Central Ohio to come for us. I would subsequently live with them only a year until I left to accept a job in another city; Roger stayed with them through college and R.O.T.C., after which he joined the Army. He's now a paratrooper. While we awaited my aunt and uncle who were driving cross country because they were afraid of flying, my brother and I were each emotionally vulnerable. Adult family friends visited daily, bringing us food and trying to keep our minds occupied with thoughts of the future, not the past or present.
The night before my aunt and uncle arrived, after Roger had showered, I heard him sobbing. He was still in the bathroom. I was nude, two rooms away in my closet, looking through a line of clothes for my pajamas. I gave up on the pj's, tugged my terry robe from a hanger, and tied it about me as I walked to the bath. The door was ajar. I pushed it open to find Roger, leaning over a sink as he splashed water in his face to clear his tears. Having just toweled off, his black hair was mussed and glistening. A dark blue towel was wrapped around his lower torso. His eyes were reddened as he looked up at my mirrored reflection and murmured, "I don't think I can take it anymore." Although he's now three inches taller, at that time Roger and I were the same height. I hugged him to me. Our bodies pressed together as I rocked his head on my shoulder. He seemed dazed by the emotional storm. He shuddered as he whimpered, "I don't want to stay in my room alone! Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
I led him by the hand to my room. Preoccupied with despair, he hadn't seemed to notice that his towel had fallen away as we entered my bedroom door. I averted my eyes from his smooth, nude body and invitingly patted the pillow alongside me on my small bed. I turned off the lamp, then billowed the thin white sheet over us as he crawled in beside me. He held me agonizingly like he was afraid he'd fall into some abyss as he lay quietly in the darkness. Like me, Roger was slender and long-limbed, his body as firm as mine from swimming and playing softball; we made a good fit, I'd thought as our arms twined around the other's neck. I smiled when he was finally slumbering, his cheek laying over mine. Just minutes later, I fell asleep. Sometime in the early morning hours, I awoke. My robe was open from the shoulders, exposing my warm nakedness. Roger, as always, snored lightly. My body was pressed to his nudity from our stomachs down to our legs. His body felt feverish. His hands were curled beneath his chin, his elbow resting between my breasts. Although I couldn't see his young penis which had swelled as he slept, I could feel its broad and lengthy firmness bulging between the vee of my legs. The pressure against my vagina had been what awakened me. Although I knew I shouldn't be feeling this way, I was electrified with the sexuality of my brother's naked flesh against mine.
I started to push him away until I remembered his crying. I didn't wish to awaken him. I lay that way for hours. Unmentionable images were running through my mind. His manhood burgeoned as his body twitched in sleep-induced dreams, causing me to shudder as it now and then slid ever so slightly through my legs and the furrows of my virgin womanhood. It was both torture and pleasure; I didn't want to remain in that agonizing position, yet didn't want to move. His head twisted to rest on my right breast, his lips brushing the nipple. He slept on. His mouth opened slightly to begin nursing my young breast as if his dreams had returned him to infancy. His tongue and lips worked over by breast with soft slurping sounds. His hips moved about, causing his penis to wriggle against my vagina. My hand, trapped beneath his head, cupped the back of his neck. I was fighting an urge to pull him even closer.
I was going out of my mind with desire; but the knowledge that to do so was wrong prevented me from responding. Eventually, the will power I'd mustered to pretend I was unaffected left me exhausted. I fell again into a deep slumber. For the rest of the night, I dreamed of a faceless man lying alongside me in the darkness as the two of us fondled the other. In the morning, we awoke to the jangling of the alarm clock perched on the headboard above me. I folded my arm behind me, afraid to touch him. Roger's face was pressing warmly into my tender breast. His lips enveloped the firmness of my excited nipple. His eyes fluttered open, rolling up to meet mine. Only slightly awakened, he glanced to the inviting breast before him and rolled back to the pillow. I couldn't have admitted that I didn't want him to stop nursing my pulsating nipple.
The erotic dreams had left me in a state of hyper-excitement. Except to reach and shut off the alarm, I hadn't moved. The room was dim, an hour away from sunrise. Roger's manhood was more aroused, its bulging base now throbbing against my clitoris. He looked shocked for a fleeting moment, then pretended nothing was wrong.
We stared at the other, both in a state of half-sleep. I could no longer control my frenzied body; my slender hips slowly rocked back and forth, massaging my clitoris over the lengthy curvature of his hardness. Our eyes closed. His elbow slid away from the young fullness of my breasts, his tremoring hands gently cupping and stroking the mounds. My nipples jutted out in excitation, bouncing beneath his touch.
I slowly became aware of my arm I'd folded behind me; my dangling hand was touching his penis that extended just beyond the back of my legs. My fingers were drawn to it, stroking the tip; my manipulations caused it to pulse and jitter, further arousing my stimulated body.
I rested my knee over Roger's hip, allowing my slender hand to reach for his member through the back of my legs. My fingers curled firmly around his young manhood. Cautiously, I pulled his penis' back and forth, afraid I might hurt him.
Although I'd had no such experience before, I knew just what to do. Just a month before, I had crawled to the backyard shed's roof to watch the stars; I was laying flat on my back, my hands folded beneath my neck; I glanced toward an almost imperceptible movement at Roger's lighted window. Roger was standing alongside his bed, his hand pumping against his groin. I'd sat up, bracing my elbows against the slant of the roof, and peered down to his window. And I KNEW immediately! He was MASTURBATING! Although the fascinating vision held no sensuality for me at the time, I was enthralled! I remember grinning as I watched; it was just all so INTERESTING!
And now, yes, in my sleepy turmoil, I knew just what to do. I was voluntarily masturbating him with my hand at my back! The skin seemed so thin against the pulsating muscle beneath. My fist was trembling like a leaf fluttering from our backyard maple tree. I shivered in the intoxication of the moment, feeling his manhood coated with my own heated vaginal oils. It was all so new to me! Our first sexual excitement was mounting in a tempestuous storm between the two of us! His eyes opened a moment, then closed again. He moved in and out of my legs, and all the time stroking my heaving breasts. We gasped together. His manhood pulled to and fro through my fingers. Gyrating my palpitating hips, I pressed my clitoris madly against his throbbing firmness.
He arched his back, his lips pulling on my nipple, and moaned. My breath hissed out like steam from a radiator. His body tensed, his arms tightening about me. He shuddered and groaned; then, my sensitive furrows felt his forceful jet thrust beneath me; his orgasmic fluid was rocketing through his manhood! The soft, warm liquid splashed through my hand, onto the back of my legs. I squealed, grasping his penis firmly. Our bodies shimmied as his teeth bit into my nipple, the pain causing tears to pool in my eyes. Our eyes snapped open in unison, the two of us beginning to fully awaken, realizing what we were doing! His face reddened. Each of us trembled, slowly pulling the sheet back. The robe was still open to my sides, my naked flesh pressed to his feverish and shuddering nude body. Roger puddled the sheet to the floor behind him.
.... There is more of this story ...