Disclaimers
This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of sexual contact between males. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if you find this subject offensive, please leave and do not read on. Safer sex techniques (i.e., use of condoms, etc.) have not been included for the sake of storytelling technique. Real life, however, is not storytelling; and condoms should be used without fail during anal intercourse and other high-risk activities (even you boys on PrEP and you undetectable guys).
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Accepting the Petey within, part six – home life, practice makes perfect, 1 of 3
I sense the slightest change in Charles' behavior toward me. Even when in the company of his twin, it seems he speaks to me more considerately than before. We were never best buddies, but I now feel a warmth I had not felt prior to our "encounter".
"Someday. When you've earned it." Those words rattle around in my head. I certainly know what I want, but how will I earn it?
I start my journal. Less a record of events and more a list of the things I did during our encounter that had elicited the most reaction from Charles. My own penis is several years from becoming "productive" (the details of which are sure to follow), but I do start to practice on myself and quickly learn how to summon my two-inch dicklet to an erect state and differentiate between what feels good and what does not.
Charles establishes a bit of a routine regarding our intimate moments. Most importantly, Thomas is never to be around. Charles always makes it known to me that he is going upstairs to his room. I wait, then follow. I enter my room and, if my instinct is correct, find my bathroom door cracked open. I slowly open the door and peek around it to make certain I read the signs correctly. Charles is sitting on the toilet seat lid, head back, shirtless, trousers and underwear around his ankles. I lock my bathroom door, just as Charles already locked the hall and his bedroom door.
I take up my kneeling position in front of him and handily minister to his always erect penis. We follow our prescribed routine, but I always try to be observant of any variation that might elicit an extra moan (and journal entry). On occasion, he introduces a new request.
"Squeeze the tip a little harder." I promptly obey.
"Use one hand to massage my balls." My pleasure.
I am starting to appreciate his rhythm and vary how firmly I hold his penis to match the speed of his pelvic thrusts. When he stops moving, I take over and try differing combinations of hand movements to maximize his moaning (my measure of my success).
On each occasion, he ejaculates on his chest and abdomen. Initially, I waited for him to tell me to lick his cum up. With time, I assume the initiative.
Our encounters become more frequent, perhaps because my dedication to my work make each experience a little different (better, I hope). It seems he takes advantage of every opportunity when Thomas is not around. They are both involved in sports, but – fortunately – different sports with different practice schedules. When the school year starts, this means even more time together.
Always my bathroom door left open a crack, always the best hand job I can deliver. Always watching to see if there is any additional pleasure I can provide.
On one occasion, his cum lands on his right nipple. I don't give it a thought and eagerly lap up my reward, like usual. But, when I lick the cum off his nipple, his moaning gets louder. His hands grabs the back of my head and he holds my tongue on his nipple.
"Suck." Like a vacuum, I comply. This is the first time my lips touch his body. I had always been careful to lap up his cum with my tongue, not wanting to overstep some boundary that might exist.
He lifts my mouth off his nipple and moves it to the left one. There is no cum on that nipple. He is allowing me to pleasure him with my mouth. I suck softly and lick.
That contact proves to break some invisible barrier. Now, when entering the bathroom, I am invited to pleasure his nipples with my mouth first. And he allows me to touch the one I am not orally stimulating.
I go back and forth, gradually increasing both the suction and the intensity of the licking, using his moans to make the necessary adjustments. One evening, I take the initiative to add the slightest biting and am rewarded with my first verbal acknowledgement, "Good boy!".
Praise from Charles. I was already enjoying our sessions as much as Charles, but now my efforts actually get his attention. (I played middle school basketball. Not particularly well, but I played. Charles and Thomas have been forced to attend a game or two. I don't think they actually paid attention, but I do know that - after a game - neither of them ever offered a word of praise or encouragement. But, now...)
I could pleasure his nipples all day, but he ultimately instructs me to "move down" and I know that means it is time to service his cock.
Now, I am free to pleasure his cock and his balls manually and his nipples orally. And I do so with relish.
Emboldened, at our next encounter, after devouring every drop of his cum from his chest, his abdomen and my hand – I once again look forlornly at the drop of cum that has leak from the head of his still swollen dick after I had finished jerking it. He clearly knows what I am thinking and simply says, "Go ahead. I think we'll like it." WE will like it!
I stick out my tongue and bend over his cock to lick up that last drop. It tastes better than all the cum I had licked off his body – put together!
I guess I have earned it and it is certainly worth it.
My tongue on my brother Charles' dick. Just thinking about it, which I do quite often, makes me smile. And, regardless where I am, the thought makes my dicklet hard and me proud.
I continue documenting lessons learned in my journal. I start a special section of things I want to try. I figure the better I get, the more frequently Charles would desire my services.
About a month into the school year, Thomas mentions at dinner on a Tuesday evening that he will be spending Friday night at a friend's house. Something about an early football game on Saturday. All I hear is that he would be gone on Friday night.
I don't believe I imagine a quick glance from Charles, but when I continue to look at him for verification, there is none.
Nonetheless, my mind is in overdrive. My every waking thought is consumed by Friday.
I am hoping I can earn even more.
Author's note: If you are enjoying, please refer to friends and feel free to mention on social media. Again, thanks for reading to the end.