IMMATURE by Chris Tempert
Disclaimer: The following is a purely fictional story which contains explicit scenes of male sex, domination, sex between siblings, etc. This story may not be copied of posted to any other websites without explicit permission from the author. If any of this content is offensive to you or illegal to access in your country, please ensure you do not proceed.
Part 1 – Getting Found
My younger brother, Danny (short for Daniel), and me, we were three years apart. He had just turned eighteen last month, whereas me, I was going to celebrate my twenty-first birthday in two days, on the sixth of October. I thought about him a lot, and I really missed him. Even though puberty on both parts had led our lives in slightly different directions, we had always been close, very close, with a strong brotherly bond. Only last year, on the party to his 17th birthday, he had hugged me and told me about how I was the greatest big brother in the world. Only two weeks later, he had probably woken up one morning to realize that the big brother, whom he so much loved and adored, was not such a great guy after all...
About a week after his birthday, I had come out to our parents. Unfortunately, it had turned out that I had overestimated them big time, thinking that their love for me might have been able to cope with me being gay. My father – always the quiet one – had fallen silent and stopped talking to me (which has not changed by today), but my mother... well, she had been talking, alright. In fact, she took every chance she got to tell me how wrong and perverted she thought I was, and how I was going to "permanently close every door back to my family" if I kept on refusing to get myself a shrink, who was supposed to somehow make me "normal" again. To cut this short: One week after my coming out, I had packed the most important of my belongings and taken off to Berlin, which is almost 600 km away from my hometown (a small town near Cologne, Germany).
Looking back now, it had been the right decision. Definitely. I had arrived in this city with nothing more than what I had brought in my duffel bag and rucksack, and now – almost a year later, I had a job, my own small apartment and already a few pretty good friends here, too. My best friend, Jon (short for Jonas), always told me to be proud of myself, of what I had achieved on my own, but, to be honest: Nothing of that was an achievement of any kind.
On the contrary, the only reason why I had what I had now were my looks. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't mean to brag or something. It's just a plain fact that most guys (and girls, too) liked the way I look. I was six feet tall, trained from working out in the gym and (from my as on upwards) nearly hairless. My hair was short and blond, I had light blue eyes and, according to Jon, "the total baby face".
I work in shifts as a waiter in a gay sauna. The owner of the sauna – Marc Anders, a tall and athletic man of only twenty-nine years – liked his staff as young and beautiful as possible. Without my looks, no way I could have gotten this job.
One Friday evening, two days before my twenty-first birthday, Jon and me were sitting on my couch watching some stupid sitcom on TV when the doorbell rang. We exchanged quizzical looks because it was already pretty late. For unannounced visitors, anyway.
After a few seconds, another ringing came from the hall and Jon's face shifted into a broad grin.
"If I were you, I'd go and open that door, Christian."
"I hate it when you call me that." I answered, got up from the couch with a deep, exaggerated sigh, went into the hall and answered the intercom.
There was silence on the other side. A few cars passing by on the street, but no human voice.
"Sorry, I can't hear you." I said into the microphone on my wall. "Who is it?"
Finally, someone – a guy, from the sound of it – cleared his throat before I heard a well known voice from my past.
"I found you."
My brother sounded careful, almost a little scared. Probably, he was not sure how I would react to this surprise. I mean, how could he be? I had left home in the dead of night without telling anyone in my family. Not my mother. Not my father. And, yes, not even my brother, mainly because I had not wanted to put him between two chairs.
And now, he was here. Danny was here. The sound of his voice triggered memories and feelings which I thought I had safely locked away in the furthest back of my mind. Without a word, I pushed the opener and heard him entering the house through the speaker.
Three flights. That was the ever smaller getting distance between me and my brother. The brother who, even after my coming out, had always loved and never resented me. The brother whom I had left without a word out of grudge against my parents. And, obviously, the brother who had been searching for me to... what? Get answers? Make accusations?
Jon appeared in the living room door and snapped me back into here and now. "So, who's our guest?" He joked, arms crossed over his chest and leaning in the door bow full of excitement and anticipation.
"My brother." I answered blankly, only nanoseconds before the knock on my apartment door sent a shock through my whole body. My face went pale in an instant, which made Jon, on the other hand, cheer up even more.
"Now, this is awesome!" He said with a devilish grin.
I felt like I was sweating on the inside when I opened the door. Danny was there. Of course, he was. He still had the same dirty blond hair as me, except his was a little longer than mine. His tight black jeans and favorite black sports jacket showed off how often and hard he must have worked out in this past year. I mean, I was in no way as muscular as him, and I went to the gym at least twice a week.
Danny's face had changed, too. When I had last seen him, he still had had the childlike smile of a young boy. His blue eyes had sparkled with the adolescent mixture of naivety and trough-breaking puberty and his baby skin had been sprinkled with pimples. All that had changed. His features had become more manly, the pimples had vanished, and even his eyes were no longer a little boys', but those of a young man.
"Why?" he just asked me. "Why do you hate me, Chris?"
Two hours later, I sincerely hoped that my brother would believe what I had just told him. It was the truth. I really would have talked to him, said goodbye, even kept in touch. But that would have meant forcing him into taking clear a position between me and our parents, and I just hadn't been able to do that to him. He, on the other hand, told me things, too. How angry my parents had reacted, how my old friends still kept asking him for any kind of life sign from me, and, finally, he told me how he had blamed himself for never really defending me against our parents and probably not supporting me enough. His voice had sounded low and creaky when had talked about his own feelings, and he had had to stop a few times to prevent himself from starting to cry.
The good thing was: Now, it was all in the open. Both of us had said what we had had to say, and he had visibly loosened up. My brother and I, we had always had this special connection which, right now, I felt again for the first time in almost a year. I looked at him and had to smile. Danny had always been a cute boy. And a clever one, too. Straight A-student, an ace at sports and, of course, the king of popular wherever he went.
"So, then..." Jon came in from my bedroom and cleared his throat. With Daniel and me talking, I had honestly forgotten about him and just assumed that he had. Well, obviously, he hadn't. "Let's all smoke a little piece pipe, shall we!?"
My brothers grin widened. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking... sure thing, dude!"
"Since when do you..." I wanted to ask him in my surprise, but Jon cut me off almost immediately.
"I'm really starting to like your brother, Chris."
With that, everything was said and the comfortable part of the evening began. Jon lit the joint and passed it on, and almost half an hour later, all three of us were lying on the couch, listening to Usher on MTV and grinning at the ceiling. It didn't take long until Jon fumbled his pocket for his mobile and gut up.
"Gotta go." he said. "Work tomorrow."
I nodded my understanding and got up, too, to walk him out.
"Talk to you tomorrow?"
"You betcha." he cheered back, gave me a hug and left my apartment.
When I went back into the living room, I froze in surprise. My brother was stretching his body again. Only this time, he didn't wear anything but a pair of boxers. His breast and armpits were smoothly shaved and his whole body had a slight tan. He had his eyes closed and made a quiet moaning sound as his muscles visibly shifted.
I coughed and his eyes slowly opened. "You don't mind that I made myself comfortable, do you, bro?"
Actually, I did mind. He was my little brother. And he was almost naked. And he was... hot. Now, there it was. What the hell was wrong with me? Here I stood, in my own apartment, with my little brother lying half naked on my couch and me, all of the sudden, getting the hots for him.
The shame kicked in when I closed my eyes to take a deep breath. Honestly, I didn't know how to handle this situation. 'It's the weed.' I told myself. 'It's just the weed.' But, was it? Was what I saw in my brother - that young, sweet and sexy man – really so new?
"What!?" His voice snapped me back from my thoughts. When had he become so... demanding?
"I, I... uhm... No, of course... I mean, I... You can, if you..." I stammered and blushed like a child, but he cut me off.
"Good." He said sternly, but then grinned up at me again. "Then get me beer, bitch!"
I felt my cheeks turn crimson, partly because he suddenly spoke to me like he just did, and partly because I let him do it. He was my little brother. I should have just walked over to him and kicked his probably hot little ass. But I didn't. I couldn't. A mixture of guilt and shame dominated my thinking, gave my whole body a slight shiver, and hardened my cock in my pants. Which, of course, only added to my shame.
When I came back with his beer – still somewhat dumbfounded, I guess – Danny got up from the couch, which, of coursed, perfectly displayed his body to me. I froze, about three feet away from him, and didn't dare to get closer to him. My eyes were fixed on his body. Those nicely defined breast and arm muscles, the visible six-pack, his slim waist... My head was spinning, again.
"Bitch,come and give me my beer!" He said. No, he ORDERED.
And I followed.
His surprise visit... all these emotions... the weed... his cock (obviously not erect) forming that slight bulge in his boxers...
I handed him the beer bottle without a word and he put it to his lips to take a big gulp. The muscles in his neck and shoulders stretched as he drank, and, for a few seconds, all I could think of was how much I wanted to touch him. Be close to him. Satisfy him.
When he had brought down the bottle and wiped his mouth with his free arm, he grinned at me, again.
"You know..." he said, "I just called you a bitch – twice, actually – and you followed my orders without a word..."
In instant shock, I could do nothing but stare at him blankly. He was right. Another wave of shame rushed up my whole body and into my cheeks. My hard cock pressed against the fabric of my jeans so hard that it started to hurt, and my head sunk down. Fucking weed, I told myself once again.
I just stood there, all wrapped up in my shame, with him standing right before me – so close – so demanding – and so adorable. It might have been just one minute, but it felt like hours, before he spoke, again.
"You know what, big bro? The stories I told you before were nothing but bullshit!" My head shot up in surprise, not prepared to meet the hateful look in his eyes. "You wanna know what REALLY happened after you left home, Chris??" I was still unable to speak, but he didn't wait for any sign of my approval, anyway. "Unimportant, fucking little me was so hurt and blamed your disappearance on Mom and Dad. I made their lives hell. I yelled and shouted at them, confronted them about what a foul excuse for parents they are, over and over again. Mom even packed her bags and moved out for a whole month because of me." He paused. My head had, of course, sunken down again, and I was totally unprepared for his hand, slapping my face hard.
"THAT'S HOW MUCH I LOVE MY BROTHER!" he almost yelled. "But you don't care, do you?"
"What... what happened then?" My voice was feeble and thin.
He shrugged. "They won, eventually, of course. One day, I came home, Mom was back and both of them awaited me in the living room, for a speech. They told me how much they were grieving for both of their sons being misguided failures and total strangers to them. Oh, and they announced some kind of "truce", which basically said that they would be completely ignoring me until I turned 18 and old enough to get the fuck out of their house and lives."
I couldn't believe what he told me. And, furthermore, if this was true, then... this probably wasn't really a surprise "visit", was it?
"I see things are starting to sink in." He made a habit of snapping me out of my thoughts. "Good. You see, big bro, I'm homeless, now. Homeless because of what you did to me, because I love you so much that I defended you to my last breath down there. Even after you didn't give a fuck about me when you left me behind." He made a slight pause, straightened up and started to walk around in the room. "Bro, you owe me. Big time!"
"You... you're planning to move in here with me?" I asked tentatively. But he ignored my question.
"It's like this: As of right now, I call the shots around here. I own your ass for, like, ever for what you put me through, so you better start to focus on satisfying my needs, and my needs only."
I cringed at the word "needs" and started to protest, but he cut me off unimpressed, once more.
"But what, huh, Chris? Don't you think I deserve to be treated with some respect for a change? Huh!?"
Totally overtaxed, my head sunk down in shame. Of course, Danny was right. When I had run away from home, I had left him behind without giving a thought to how he would feel and what he would have to go through once I was gone. If what he told me was right – and I didn't have any reason to suspect otherwise – then he had raised a flag in my name for as long as he could keep it up. Even more, he had lost his home and family in his fight for my honor and reputation.
"Is there something you have to say, bro?" his voice cut through the damp uneasiness of my thoughts.
"Yes, there is..." Talking to him was so hard that it made me squirm. "You... uhm... I mean, I..."
The truth was, I had so much to say that it all went ballistic in my head. How deeply and honestly sorry I was for what I did to him. How much, right now, I was longing to touch him.
My whole body was vibrating from the inside, and being so close to his almost naked body – breathing and smelling the odors of his smooth and boyish skin – did the rest. The shame and humiliation of the moment made my cock stir in my pants, and as the first of many more helpless sobs came over my lips, I felt it growing harder and harder until it was so erect that it hurt.
Instead of waiting for me to phrase the answer to his question, he turned away, took place at the dining table and started to roll another joint.
"Maybe some more weed will loosen you up a bit. Oh, and..." He lifted his head to look me up and down. "...as of today, I don't want you to always be naked in this apartment. When you get home from work, you will undress and your clothes will be locked away to a place only I have a key for."
"But, look, Danny..." I started to protest. I had made mistakes – grave and, probably, unforgivable mistakes – but this went too far. Or, did it really? My dick, which was obviously thinking differently, stood straight. My head was still spinning from the previous joint. And, god, I was so... fucking... horny! What was I supposed to do here? "I have to..."
Another hard slap landed on me left cheek.
"I finally figured you out, Chris."
"Figured me out? What do you...?"
"You might me the older one of us, but – deep down inside – you're nothing but an immature and inconsiderate little boy who is unable to make grown up decisions and keep himself under control." I grasped for air, ready to protest once more, but somehow, the words would not come out of my mouth. Instead, I felt something strange – deep down inside, as he had put it. It was a voice... no... more like a twisted feeling that suddenly popped up in my head: Could he be right with his judgment?
"Let's face the facts, big brother: YOU have not proven yourself very competent in making your own decisions and taking control of your life, have you!?" He stopped crumbling the weed onto the tobacco and gave me a stern look that made the already rock hard cock ache with pulsation.
"No, I suppose not." I mumbled with my voice hardly audible.
"Right. So, we agree that you need someone to lead and control you life, since obviously, you're incapable of doing that yourself. So if I give you an order, there will be no questioning of any kind. Obviously, I am the only mature man around here, so I expect you to totally submit to me. From now on, you will be owned, controlled and used like the little bitch boy that you truly are."
With that, he came another step closer, put his right hand on my left cheek and gently pressed his thumb against my lips in an unspoken demand for entrance. I knew that letting his thumb into my mouth now meant total surrender, but my mouth opened all by himself, took in his finger and gently started sucking it.
"Good." he said, broadly grinning into my face, "Now, strip, boy!"
He removed his thumb from my mouth, and then – in a flash – I suddenly realized the whole extend of what had just happened. It all sunk in at once, overwhelming me with a mixture of countless feelings of all kinds. Fear, affection, shame, horniness, shock... just to name a few of them.
The corners of my eyes filled with tears as I unbuttoned my shirt in defeat, while his attention switched back to the almost finished joint in his hands. Within less than one minute, I was standing there in only my boxers, which left no doubt about my raging hard-on.
"Did I tell you to keep your undies on, boy?" he asked me like you would ask a child, and I knew better than to answer any differently than by tugging down the waistband of my boxers. When they were off and tossed aside, Danny suddenly grabbed my cock, so hard that it hurt just enough to maximize my horniness level and make me moan from both humiliation and lust.
His right hand gave me two slow strokes that sent shivers through every inch of my body before he let go. He went back to the couch, sat down and took his mobile from the couch table. Before I realized what he was doing, the photo light flashed twice.
"Come over here, boy!" he ordered, grinning. "It's time to talk details, now."
... to be continued
Do you like this first part of my story? Then please let me know. I will be happy about each and every email (unless you tell me not to ^^). Just send your feedback, question, criticism, ect. to: chris.tempert@gmx.net ;)