This story is the fourth part of a six-part series called "Early Erotic Memories." It is completely true and accurately describes the author's personal experience. The story is for informational and recreational purposes only, and the author does not advocate any of the activities described. It should not be read by anyone under the age of eighteen.
- PLAYING WITH MY BROTHER
During my childhood and adolescence, my dad was by far the most significant male influence in my life. He was a wonderful man, honest and hard-working, genuinely loving and totally dedicated to his family. He spent most of his adult life working as a salesman, and although he didn't earn a lot of money, he made sure that my sisters, my brother and I had everything we needed for a good and happy life. I loved my dad dearly, just as he loved me, and I looked up to him as the kind of man I wanted to be when I grew up.
My dad was a typically masculine guy who enjoyed watching baseball and football games on TV, along with wrestling and boxing. He also mowed the grass on weekend mornings (a manly chore in my eyes), and I often helped him by sweeping up the cuttings and putting them into a big cardboard box. Much to my delight, my dad also loved the outdoors and made sure that our family went on frequent outings in the mountains or the desert. In one of my favorite photographs, taken when he was in his late thirties or early forties, he sits on a rock in the mountains wearing a hat with the brim turned up in front, smiling his big grin and holding his glasses in his hands. I think he was a very good-looking guy.
I admired my dad's moderately-hairy body with its natural-looking musculature, and I always enjoyed an opportunity to see him naked (he was quite matter-of-fact about nudity and usually left the bathroom door open while he dried himself after taking a shower). When I started puberty, I became very aware of the changes taking place in my own body, and I wanted to let my dad know about them, so he would realize that my body was becoming more like his. One morning when he was shaving in the bathroom, I asked him if I could come in and pee. He said sure, so I stood at the toilet right next to him, my heart pounding, and brought up a subject that I had been wanting to mention.
"Hey, dad?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, I've started growing hair down around my tally-whacker?" (That was the word he used for "penis" with me and my brother.)
"Uh-huh."
"Well, it bothers me. Whenever I reach in to get out my tally-whacker, I grab the hair and pull it, and it hurts."
Pretty lame, I'll admit, but that was the only way I could think of to introduce the subject of my pubic hair (it didn't even hurt that much when I pulled it accidentally). My dad told me that he had never had that problem when he was growing his own pubic hair, and he suggested that I just hang in there; eventually, I'd get used to it. That was the end of our pubic hair discussion, and I left the bathroom trembling with excitement and wanting to say a lot more, although I didn't know how. It had been the most erotic conversation of my life up to that point.
After my dad, my younger brother Larry was the most important male influence in my early years. I always saw him as a fairly typical energetic boy, and I admired him for being more outgoing than I was. He played rugged athletic games with other boys more easily and got dirty more frequently. He also kept his hair in a short buzz cut, or a "butch" as we called it in the fifties, the kind of haircut our dad favored for him because it was simple and easy to take care of. Larry's hair was dirty blonde, although it looked much darker when it was wet (I must have felt it at least once after he got out of the bathtub or the swimming pool, because I remember thinking that his wet hair felt kind of sexy).
Larry also had a pleasant boyish face, with blue eyes and an almost-pug nose that had a sprinkling of light freckles from one side to the other. He was average-sized for his age, with a good boyish physique, and during the summer, he often went around without a shirt on (something I always liked to see). Usually, he had a great tan. In a photo taken during the summer when he turned twelve, he smiles shirtless at the camera with his head cocked pugnaciously to one side, his smooth chest gleaming in the warm sunshine and his little belly button peeking out above his low-hanging jeans, which he wears without a belt (something I would never do).
My earliest erotic memory of Larry comes from 1955 or 1956, when he was six years old and I was twelve. It was early morning, and I was in the kitchen with our mom and dad, getting ready to eat breakfast. I think our dad was sitting at the breakfast nook, and I was standing nearby, when Larry came in wearing only his pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. Since he had just gotten out of bed and wasn't fully awake, his little body drooped as he stood there with his eyes half open. I immediately noticed that he had an erection, because it jutted straight out in front of him, tenting the front of his pajamas. My dad noticed it too, because he laughed and said to our mom, "Look at that. It's sticking straight out!"
When I was thirteen years old and Larry was seven, we began a series of mildly-sexual liaisons that lasted for several years (actually, they were so innocent that it might be better to call them "erotic" rather than sexual). The first one occurred one night when Larry told me about something he had done with his little friend Gary, who lived up the alley from the apartment complex where we were living at the time. Gary was an extremely cute kid, short and skinny with brown hair, an angelic face and lots of freckles on his nose. I think he also had a chipped tooth, but I'm not certain. Larry said that when he and Gary had been alone in Gary's bedroom one day, they had taken their pants down, and Gary had laid face-down in the middle of his bed. Larry then positioned himself across Gary at a 90-degree angle, with his little erection on Gary's bare bottom, and began wiggling his hips back and forth.
Wow, that really turned me on! Since Larry and I were alone watching TV in our living room at the time and our dad was in the bathroom taking a shower (our mother and sisters weren't at home when this occurred), I asked him if he would be interested in doing the same thing with me. He said sure, and I immediately started getting an erection. Since we could hear the shower running in the bathroom, we knew our dad would be occupied for awhile, but I still thought it would be prudent to go check the bathroom door. So, I got up and walked into the hallway. Yep, it was closed. I then went back into the living room and took a small vinyl throw pillow off the couch (you can tell this was the 1950s), then dropped it on the floor in front of the TV, where there was plenty of room. As Larry watched, I got down on my knees facing the pillow, and when he realized what I had in mind, he also got down on his knees, facing the pillow on my left. Without saying a word, we both started unbuckling our belts.
As soon as I had the front of my pants open, I pushed them down along with my underwear and lay forward on the floor, placing my erection on the pillow, so my buttocks were propped up slightly. By that time, Larry had his own pants down, and he quickly lay across me at a 90-degree angle, positioning his little penis squarely on my butt, as he had with Gary. I couldn't tell if he had an erection, but I was so excited that it didn't matter. He immediately began thrusting his hips back and forth, and I remember that he felt very warm and that his movements were jerky. I lay there trembling with excitement and with my heart pounding, until I began to feel guilty. I then said something like, "Okay, that's enough," and Larry got off of me and started pulling his pants up. In a matter of seconds, the pillow was back on the couch, and we were watching TV again.
One evening not long after this, Gary came over to visit Larry, and since the rest of our family had gone somewhere, I was alone with them. As you can imagine, I became aroused by the situation. However, I was terrified to suggest we do something sexual (which is what I really wanted), because I was afraid of getting caught. My worst fear was that Larry or Gary might tell our parents what we had done, and I would be sent to prison.
So, I compromised. Instead of suggesting something overtly sexual, I told Larry and Gary that we should play a game. I would pretend to be doing a certain thing, and they would have to guess from my movements what I was doing. They agreed, and I told them to lie face down on the floor, side by side. I had decided to use the game as an excuse to feel their butts, and I was quickly hatching a plan as I went and got a plastic ruler out of the hall closet.
When I came back, Larry and Gary were lying on the floor with their little bottoms right next to one another. It was a nice contrast, because Gary's was small and skinny, while Larry's was a little larger and more developed. Getting down on my knees next to Larry, I placed one hand against his butt, while with the other hand I began shoving the end of the ruler into the seat of his pants, right between his cheeks at the spot where I thought his anus should be. After several seconds, I moved over to Gary and did the same thing to him. Pausing, I asked both boys if they could guess what I was doing, and they said no. So, I went back to Larry and again shoved the ruler between his cheeks for several seconds, then back to Gary, repeating the same action. It was very erotic.
Finally, they gave up and said they couldn't guess what I was doing, so I told them, "You two guys are constipated, and I'm helping you out!" I took my inspiration for this odd statement from a joke that was popular among adolescents at the time: "Hey, did you hear the one about the constipated professor? He finally worked it out with a slide rule!" Yes, I know it was stupid, but I was extremely aroused and desperate for even a little body contact. Remember, I was a teenager with raging hormones and no legitimate outlet!
I sometimes wondered if Larry had done sexual things with any of his other little friends, but unfortunately, I was too inhibited to ask. I did question him, though, about a trip he took with several other boys and one of their fathers to a local indoor swimming pool. We happened to be alone in our bedroom, and since I felt curious, I asked him if he had seen the other boys naked in the locker room and if any of them had pubic hair (I had just started growing my own pubic hair at the time). Larry replied that he had indeed seen the others, and that one of them, a boy named Sonny (who I had a crush on and whose parents owned the apartment complex where we lived) had "just a little" hair between his legs. The other boys were hairless. It surprised me that Larry seemed interested in the subject of naked boys and was eager to talk about his experience.
I remember two other occasions when Larry and I were alone together and I daringly showed him my naked buttocks. The first time, I was taking a shower, when he came into the bathroom either to brush his teeth or pee. We were talking to one another, and I somehow got around to asking him if he would like to take a look at my butt. He said yes, of course, so I pulled one end of the shower curtain back slightly, allowing him to look in as I turned away and bent forward, giving him a good view of my pale young bottom. I felt very proud and also highly aroused as he eagerly surveyed my offering. It was delightful.
On the second occasion, we were still in bed one morning with our bedroom door closed, and we apparently had been talking about some erotic subject, because I felt sexually aroused. I told Larry that I was going to push my pajama bottoms and underwear down under my covers, just for the heck of it. He said go ahead, so I pushed them down onto my legs, enjoying the fact that I now was naked below the waist with my little brother only a few feet away. Feeling emboldened by my daring act, I then told him that I was going to do something else. Rolling over on my side, I pulled out one of the drawers in our dresser, which stood between the headboards of our two beds. Reaching in with one hand, I fumbled around until I found what I was looking for: one of those little plastic swizzle sticks that are shaped like swords and are stuck into martini olives. This one was red, with the tip broken off.
I showed the little sword to Larry and told him I was going to stick it into my bottom, again under the covers. He seemed appalled that I would do such a nasty thing, but I quickly rolled onto my side, facing away from him, and started feeling around my butt to position the sword where it had to go. When I touched it against my anus, it felt very sharp and prickly, but I persevered and gently eased it forward until it was firmly wedged in my little pucker. Pleased at what I had done, I asked Larry if he would like to see the sword sticking out of me, and he again seemed appalled. However, I was determined to show him my buttocks, so I pulled my knees up slightly and boldly raised the covers to show him my backside. The air in the room felt cold on my bare skin.
Larry looked but didn't seem impressed, and I urged him to come over to my bed and remove the little sword from its warm sheath. After a bit of coaxing, he reluctantly came over and pulled it out, dropping it quickly onto the sheet and saying, "Eeew." That was the end of that.
Looking back, I'm amazed at the amount of sexual tension that sometimes permeated our bedroom when I was in junior high school, especially when we had the door closed. Larry and I came very close to doing a number of sexual things together, but often one or both of us would chicken out, because we were afraid that our parents would find out or that God would punish us. On one occasion, we actually did get caught.
We were reclining on Larry's bed with the door closed one day after school. Larry was lying crosswise on his back, with his lower legs hanging over the edge of the bed, while I lay right next to him on my side, examining his bare midsection. I had pulled his shirt up to reveal his stomach, and I had pushed his jeans way, way down to uncover his lower belly, leaving them just above his little genitals. I had stuck the tip of the infamous little plastic sword just under the top of his jeans and was tickling him with it as I admired the youthful freshness of his warm, smooth skin. I had a throbbing erection, and it was a very tender moment, to say the least.
Suddenly, the door flew open and there stood our mother, eyeing us suspiciously. Oh, God! I sat bolt upright with my eyes as wide as saucers and quickly tried to hide the plastic sword in my hand, smiling as best I could as I stared right into our mom's face. I felt like a deer caught in headlights. She said something like, "What are you doing?" and I said something like, "Oh, nothing," but we both knew I had been caught red-handed, doing whatever. She then said, "Well, why don't we leave the door open?" and then went on about her business. I thought I was going to pass out.
My erotic experiences with Larry continued even after I entered high school. The summer between my sophomore and junior years, when I was fifteen and Larry was ten, our dad took us with him on a business trip to Yuma, Arizona. It was hot as blazes (123 degrees in the shade!), so while our dad took care of his business, Larry and I spent most of the day in the motel swimming pool, playing around with some other kids and cooling off. Afterwards, we returned to our room to wait for our dad to come back, and we may have taken showers (separately), although I don't remember. I do recall, however, that Larry was lounging around in just his white briefs, enjoying the air conditioning, and I was having a hard time trying to control my sexual urges. He sure looked sexy!
Eventually, I started wrestling around with him on the bed, pretending that I was going to pull down his underpants. As he resisted and squirmed around underneath me, I reached over to the windowsill and picked up the Allen wrench key that was used to open and close the old-fashioned windows. It was about six inches long and a quarter of an inch thick, and I told Larry that I was going to stick it up his rear. As he continued to resist, I rolled him over onto his stomach and tried to pull down the back of his underpants, but he quickly placed his hand over the middle of his butt, palm outward, to protect himself. At that point, he began squealing loudly, desperately telling me to get off, and I could tell that he was serious. So, I rolled off of him and got up from the bed with a painful erection, wishing that he had been willing to let me carry out my playful threat. (This episode occurred shortly after Larry and I had pantsed one another in our parents' bedroom, as described in the next story in this series.)
Another incident occurred back at home. One afternoon, Larry and I were in our parents' bedroom, and in some way, we had started wrestling around on the floor. We were fully clothed, and at one point, Larry grabbed me between my legs and squeezed my genitals through my pants. That turned me on, and I quickly began trying to grab him between his legs as well, saying, "Oh, so that's the way you want to play, huh?" Before anything happened, though, we broke apart.
On another occasion, I was sitting in our living room one night, watching TV with our family. Larry was sitting right next to our dad on the nearby couch, leaning against his side and resting his head on his shoulder. Suddenly, I heard our dad say in a gruff, threatening voice, "Hey, watch that!" I looked over and saw that Larry had draped his hand over our dad's thigh, right next to his groin, and I immediately realized what had happened. Larry had been inching his hand cautiously down toward our dad's penis, trying to feel it without our dad noticing. However, he hadn't been cautious enough! Larry feigned innocence, acting as though he didn't know what our dad was talking about, and we all just started watching TV again. I was surprised to find out that Larry apparently felt as curious about our dad's genitals as I did.
One of the most erotic encounters I ever had with Larry occurred during the summer before I went into the twelfth grade, which means I was sixteen and he had just turned eleven (it could have been one summer earlier, shortly after we pantsed one another, but I'm not sure). I was in our living room with my parents one night, watching TV, while Larry was in the bathroom, taking a bath. When he opened the door and came out into the hall, I noticed that he hadn't put on his pajamas but instead had wrapped a towel around his waist. Since he appeared to be wet, I assumed he was planning to dry off in our bedroom.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that if I were to walk out into the back yard and look through our bedroom window, I could see Larry naked as he dried himself. So, that's what I did (it didn't occur to me that our parents might become suspicious of what I was doing, but as it turned out, they didn't pay any attention). I wandered out into the yard as though I was enjoying the night air, but after going only a short distance, I went directly to the window, which was wide open with the curtains pulled back. It was my first peeping-Tom experience.
There stood Larry in his naked glory, drying off and getting ready to put on his underwear. He noticed me right away and quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, but then he did something totally unexpected. Facing the window, he suddenly jerked the towel away, holding it to one side and wiggling his hips back and forth to briefly display his genitals. Then he quickly covered himself up again. Ah, he was in a playful mood, and I couldn't believe my good fortune. After a few seconds, he turned to one side and jerked the towel away again, shaking his hips and giving me a fleeting glimpse of his pale little buttocks. By the time he wrapped the towel around his waist again, my heart was pounding, and I could feel my penis stirring into an erection.
At that point, he evidently wanted to show me more. Clutching the towel around his waist, he walked over and closed the bedroom door, then came back into the middle of the room with a mischievous grin on his face. Suddenly, he whipped off the towel and tossed it on his bed, then raised his arms over his head and began dancing around completely naked, thrusting his hips back and forth obscenely and obviously enjoying the fact that I was watching. I could hardly believe my eyes! Eagerly, I surveyed his smooth armpits and boyish chest with its small pink nipples, his tightly-stretched belly and hairless groin. His little scrotum and circumcised penis bobbed lewdly between his legs as he slowly rotated around to reveal his butt, the smooth little cheeks flexing rhythmically against one another with each gyration. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.
I became so aroused and excited that I couldn't help going back into the house and down the hall to the bedroom door. Slowly pushing it open, I found Larry lying face down across the bottom edge of his bed with his legs extended down to the floor, frantically thrusting his penis back and forth against a folded blanket. His body jerked convulsively, and I could see his little buttocks clenching and relaxing with each thrust. It was a beautiful sight.
Closing the door behind me, I walked over to the bed and gripped him by the shoulders, placing one hand on either side of his neck. I desperately wanted to feel him all over to see how smooth and warm he felt, then gently spread his buttocks apart and look at his little anus, which I had never seen before. However, I was far too inhibited and afraid to do anything like that, so I just said quietly, "You better get up before somebody comes in and finds you." Then I released his shoulders and reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind me.
Another memorable incident occurred at about this time, although unlike the others, it was completely open and legitimate. For some reason, Larry and I were talking about tattoos, and I suggested that I could paint a tattoo on his chest using our set of watercolors. He liked the idea, so I told him the best place to do it would be the bathroom, where he could lie flat on his back on the edge of the tub (the spot where I masturbated!). He agreed, so we took the watercolors into the bathroom, and he then took off his shirt and lay along the edge of the tub on his back. For the next fifteen minutes, I painted a hula dancer under a palm tree in the center of his chest, while simultaneously enjoying the beauty of his soft smooth skin and his little pink nipples. It was quite erotic. (Larry had a friend at that time by the name of Stephen, a cute blonde with an incredibly beautiful well-developed body. It's possible that I also painted a tattoo on Stephen's chest, although surprisingly, I don't remember. Since they were very close and spent a lot of time together, I've often wondered if Larry and Stephen did anything sexual with one another.)
In the ninth grade, I had discovered that Larry often masturbated in his bed at night by putting his pillow under his hips and then wiggling his penis back and forth (I described this in my last story). One night when I was a senior in high school, as I was trying to go to sleep, I heard Larry wiggling furiously under his covers, and the sound eventually became so pronounced that it was obvious he was approaching some kind of climax. Under other circumstances, I might have enjoyed listening to him, but I felt so tired that I just had to get some sleep. So, I very inconsiderately told him in a loud whisper, "Stop wiggling!" He immediately got quiet, and a few minutes later, I heard him turn over on his side and settle down to sleep. In later years, I regretted that I had interrupted him when he obviously was enjoying himself, and I also wondered if he actually had been on the verge of a dry orgasm. At his age, I didn't even know what orgasms were, and I hadn't even discovered masturbation! (I've often wondered when and where Larry experienced his first ejaculation and what the circumstances were. I assume it happened one night when he was wiggling, but I guess I'll never know; it might have happened in the bathroom, as it did for me.)
One time, I remember waking up in the middle of the night and noticing Larry asleep in his bed. I could tell that he was lying on his stomach with a slight and very intriguing rise in the covers over his little butt. I couldn't help myself. Stealthily, I got out of bed and stepped over to where he lay. Leaning over him, I placed one hand as gently as I could right on top of his cheeks. They felt so soft and smooth! I was just beginning to move my hand around slowly, when he started to wake up, mumbling something in a confused way. I quickly started pulling the covers up around his shoulders, whispering, "You were just coming out from under the covers, Larry. Go back to sleep." As he settled down again, I got back into my own bed.
One final incident occurred before I graduated from high school, when Larry and I were alone at home one night watching TV in the living room. Larry was sitting in the big upholstered chair, although he had slid his body down until he was lying prone, with his head propped against the back of the chair and his butt right on the front edge. I was sitting on the matching footstool slightly to one side, resting my hands on his stomach and asking if I could give him a pinky (if you're not familiar with pinkies, that's when one boy raises up another boy's shirt, then drums on his bare stomach with the palm of his hand, like he's beating on an Indian tom-tom). Larry was playing hard to get, and I was becoming frustrated. I really wanted some warm body contact! I would plead and try to pull up the front of his shirt, but he would hold it down and try to concentrate on the television program, occasionally laughing and saying, "No!" Between my pleas, there was an awkward silence, along with a great deal of sexual tension. Eventually, I began tickling his belly, and he then said emphatically through his laughing, "No! I'll tell Ray you stripped me down!" (Ray was an adult neighbor who lived across the street.) I replied in a strained voice, "You better shut up, or I will!"
Surprisingly, nothing else happened, and I eventually moved away from him. However, an important thought occurred to me later. I had asked Larry only if I could give him a pinky, without saying anything at all about stripping him down; he brought up that idea entirely on his own. Was he giving me a hint? Perhaps what he really wanted was for me to take his clothes off; and if that was the case, why hadn't I played along and given him what he wanted?
As it turned out, that was the first of many regrets I came to feel through the years about my erotic escapades with Larry. Today, I wish I hadn't been so inhibited about relating to him sexually during our youth or so afraid of getting caught. I know we could have developed a far stronger relationship through our activities, despite the commonly-held taboos against them. If only we had seen them for what they were: innocent explorations and opportunities to express what we felt for one another as brothers. I now wish that I had started wiggling right along with Larry whenever I heard his covers rustling at night, or even that I had invited him over to my bed to wiggle on my bare bottom. I should have been more daring and less inhibited when I suspected that he wanted to do something sexual as much as I did, and we both should have been more willing to share our emotions as well as our developing bodies. There were just so many missed opportunities!
But, that's the way it is. At least, I have many wonderful memories of the incidents I've described so far, along with several others (yes, there were more, even after I graduated from high school!). Perhaps the most significant later episode took place when Larry was in junior college and he and I were living at home with our parents. Late one night, after our folks had gone to bed, we stayed up to watch TV, lying side-by-side on the living room floor. Larry was on his back, trying to watch the program, but I was joking around with him and had grabbed him by the ankles. Eventually, I pushed his legs up so his knees were folded onto his chest, while I was facing him on my knees with my legs spread wide apart and my groin pushing right against his upturned buttocks. Basically, we were in the classic "missionary" position. Neither one of us said anything as we held that pose and continued to watch TV for several minutes. After we separated, I wondered why he had allowed me to do that.
One day around the same time, I noticed Larry through the open bathroom door as I walked down the hall. He was standing in front of the sink in just his boxer shorts, putting deodorant under one of his arms. I stepped in and put my face right into his armpit, examining the hairs closely and even rubbing a few back and forth between my thumb and forefingers. He laughed and let me do it. Another time, when he was on active duty in the Marine Corps Reserve, he visited me at my apartment in northern California. I'll always remember how he stepped out of the bathroom, once again in just his boxer shorts, and started flexing his muscles like a bodybuilder, posing erotically as I watched from about ten feet away. He was in his early twenties then, and beautiful. He also knew that I was gay. (As far as I can recall, Larry referred to my gayness only once. We were alone in our parents' living room and had been arguing about something. I was angry and said that he was as stupid as a banana [a stupid statement in itself!], to which he responded, "Yeah, you'd like to peel me and take a bite!" I think we both realized that he was absolutely correct.)
Often during that same period, Larry and I joked with one another in a sexually-suggestive way. For instance, whenever either of us ordered a pizza with everything on it, we asked for "the works." So, I would ask him from time to time, "Hey, do you want the works?" He would open his eyes wide and get a mischievous grin on his face, eagerly nodding his head up and down to indicate "yes!" We both recognized the sexual implication in this, but it remained unspoken. Today, I still wonder if his reaction to my question was just a way of saying that if I wanted to do something sexual with him, he was willing. I guess I'll never know.
On two occasions many years later, I saw Larry completely naked as a fully-matured adult. The first incident occurred in the mid-1980s, when he was in his mid-thirties. We were camping in a public campground on the east side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California and happened to take a shower together one afternoon. As he stood drying himself only a few feet away, I eagerly looked him over while pretending to be engrossed in drying myself. He certainly had changed during the previous two decades! Standing about six feet tall (two inches taller than me) and weighing about 170-180 pounds, he still had a good physique, with nice muscle tone and about the same amount of body hair as me and our dad (although the hair on his chest grew further up toward his neck and shoulders). He also had a nicely-shaped, good-sized penis with lots of pubic hair, which was quite a change from the hairless little thing I remembered!
The second occasion took place in 2001, when Larry was 52. We were sharing a motel room in San Diego, and he came out of the bathroom buck naked after taking a shower. Sporting a big comical grin on his face, he brazenly walked around the bed where I was lying, apparently to retrieve something he had forgotten. I laughed and pretended to be outraged. Since his suitcase was on the other bed near my nightstand, I could have reached out and touched him when he started rummaging through it. In fact, I was tempted to grab his penis as a joke and hang on for dear life, but much to my later regret, I didn't. At the end of our stay at the motel, when Larry walked up to me in our room to hug me and say goodbye, I threw my arms around him on impulse and kissed him on the lips. Since he wasn't expecting it, it was good and wet, and we both laughed afterwards.
Today, my brother is approaching 60 and has been happily married for almost 40 years. I love him dearly and admire the things he has accomplished in his career, as well as in his personal life. Although I've often wanted to talk to him about the erotic encounters we enjoyed so long ago, I doubt that I ever will. He might not even remember them. What's important is the fact that they occurred and that they were a significant part of my early life. Thanks, Larry!
March 2008