Not My Brother's Keeper
Copyright© 2026 by Daemon D. Hart
Chapter 5
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5 - At nineteen, I never expected to get a new brother, but that’s exactly what happens when my father remarries. His new wife brings a son along, and chaos enters my life. I’m a choir boy; he’s a troublemaker. We dislike each other from the start, and things only get worse when we’re forced to share a college dorm room. I’m convinced he’s my doom. My sensual, sexual, the darkest of dark doom. So, no one - my father, his mother, or him - should expect me to be his salvation.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Reluctant Gay Fiction Anal Sex Analingus First Oral Sex
Adrian left that night without me having to tell him to. It looked like he got what he wanted, so there was no reason for him to stick around. I must admit that I was kind of pissed he didn’t want me to jerk him off to return the favor. It felt like he got the upper hand, and it unsettled me.
The next day, we both behaved like nothing happened. We were back to being on no speaking terms save for whatever counted as polite and didn’t get us in hot water with our parents. Madeline did throw us a few curious looks our way, but there was no way in hell she’d guess what we’d been up to the night before. She just wanted us to get along.
That was one thing that wouldn’t work between us. We were too different to actually find common ground. And I was betting on him keeping his distance because the last thing I wanted was Dad to notice something going on between us. It was far better to have him believe that we barely tolerated each other. It made me feel reasonably safe.
And for a few days, it worked. He came back tipsy on beer and the vapid relationships he was quickly forming with the neighborhood sluts and cunts – talking here about both chicks and guys. It was astonishing and low-key fascinating to observe him and his habits. The perfect social animal, I called him in my head. Now that was someone who could walk in the world wearing an impenetrable mask and not giving a damn because he knew he’d always land on his feet due to his ability to pretend he was well-adjusted.
So I was safe. Not particularly satisfied with the way things were standing between us, but safe, yes.
I had to make excuses for him in my head since he’d been pretty wasted that time when he jerked me off. But I knew it wasn’t true. Who got really that fucked up on beer alone? Since we’d been taught at the local youth club about recognizing the signs exhibited by someone on drugs, I could tell he wasn’t high that night.
So that left the only other alternative, or at least one I could accept as reasonable. He regretted putting his clumsy hand on me and tasting my cum. Yeah, especially that.
As a proper self-flagellator, I didn’t masturbate to the fresh memory of that night. I liked, no, scratch that, enjoyed thinking of it, sometimes mapping every little second, remembering how Adrian had laughed or said a particular word. And as I lay in bed, stiff to the point that my dick hurt, I abandoned myself to the decision of not giving in.
Not for his sake. Or on his account.
It must have been a week or so until my stepbrother decided that he was too bored with the small-town life and wanted to mess with me instead.
I was on my usual run, early in the morning. For a few hours, where we live, you can forget that summer days can be unforgiving; they’re hours of grace, when you can breathe, feel free, and run until your lungs burn. If there was one thing I’d regret about this place once I left it behind, it would be this.
The long winding path through the trees narrowed before me as I focused on my usual stuff. College started come fall, and I’d be free from my dad and this shithole. Consider it my positive affirmation at the time.
I was so caught up in the rhythm of my labored breathing and my thoughts that I didn’t see him. Barreling straight into him, I managed to make both of us roll into a nearby bush, ending up scratching my legs pretty badly.
“Adrian,” I hissed at him, getting up with a grunt.
I was sweaty from the run and needed to get my bearings back. My heavy breathing stopped me from giving him an earful.
The jerk lay on the grass, on his back, his arms and legs stretched. And he was laughing.
“You’re a complete idiot,” I finally managed to say. “Why did you get in my way like that? And without saying anything?”
He placed his hands under his head and squinted at me, while his beautiful lips quirked in an arrogant smile.
To be honest, I wanted to kick him in the nuts, not because he crashed into me, but because he could behave like that, like he hadn’t been ignoring me for days.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he drawled.
“Fine, you surprised me,” I said. I looked down at the state of my legs and winced. Gingerly, I lifted the legs of my shorts to assess the damage. One thorn had crossed along my right thigh, dangerously close to the family jewels. Not that I planned starting a family anytime soon, but getting my ball sac scratched like that wasn’t on the list of my priorities. Only luck had it that I didn’t get hurt worse.
“The fuck,” I heard him muttering. “You’re bleeding.”
“Thanks to the fucker who thought it’d be a grand idea to get in the way of someone running,” I said.
“You don’t talk like a choir boy.”
“And you just realized that? I talk your language. You should be satisfied.”
He got up but only so he could drop on his knees in front of me. With sure hands, he pushed my shorts upward and stared at the nasty cut on my upper right thigh.
And put his lips on it, followed by his tongue.
“Adrian,” I whispered, stealing nervous looks around. People in our town didn’t come here to run, they weren’t the kind to do that, and the younger crowd preferred the woods only late at night, not at this hour.
But you never know, right?
His tongue moved slowly across my skin. His saliva stung a little, but it gave me the expected relief.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do, except for looking around to spot anyone who might stumble upon us. A stiffness overcame me, and I’m not only talking about how hard I got with Adrian’s lips so close to my crotch area. From above, I could peer directly at the crown of his head. He had nice hair. Not that he worked to style it or anything, but he looked good – city boy good if I can say that.
“Are you done?” I hissed at him. My muscles started trembling slightly, from the earlier expended adrenaline or maybe because of what he was doing to me.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” He tipped his head back, making our eyes meet briefly. I bet he continued to stare at me but I looked away. Call me a coward; you’d be within your rights.
“I don’t run for pleasure,” I said. “I need to be in shape to deal with assholes like you.”
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