Cutler House
Chapter Four

By John Yager

The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction dealing with sexual relationships between brothers of high school age. If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stories in your jurisdiction, please exit now.

This is a work of fiction and in no ways draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.   This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

Again, special thanks to Andrew, who again proofed the text and gave me the benefit of his critical reading. Andrew, your assistance is much appreciated.

This is the fourth chapter of Cutler House, which is a sequel to the series titled Montgomery Hall. A third and parallel story in this series, titled Columbus Avenue, is also being posted at this time. I had expected that Cutler House would end with the third chapter and that any loose ends would be dealt with in the ongoing Columbus Avenue series. I have had, however, many requests for a continuation of the story from the point of view of Dave and Monty. I hope the additional chapters go some way toward filling that desire on the part of readers. I will hope to hear from you with your reactions.

While it is expected that the individual stories in these related series will stand independently, they should be more enjoyable if read as a group. If you wish to receive e-mail notification of subsequent posting, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.

jvoyager@hotmail.com

I'm in love with my brother.

I guess I've loved Monty all my life and for the last year of so have known that my feelings for him were more than just the usual, normal, brotherly love. Now I might just as well admit it, at least to my self and to him, that my love for him goes way beyond normal. I desire him, lust after him, want him with every fiber of my being.

Guilt has followed me for weeks. I've felt so evil, so soiled, so sick. I, quite literally, cannot sleep at night unless I can hold Monty close. What have I done to him? What am I doing to him? What am I doing to myself?

I live in fear that my father will guess. My mother goes about her daily life and I'm sure to her we are still just children.

But Dad knows.

He may not know about my feelings for Monty, but he knows about the sexual drives of teenage boys. He went through it when he was our age and he helped us understand it when we began to reach sexual maturity. He knows the obsessive forces, the ways it hits us out of the blue, the shifts in mood. He helped me understand and deal with it when I entered puberty about four years ago. Then about two years later when I knew Monty was beginning to experience the same changes in his body and his moods, I talked to Dad and we both talked with Monty, assuring him, letting him know it was all normal, all the things he was going through. We let Monty know that we'd been through it and that we'd do anything we could to help him. Above all, we let him know that we loved him and that he was not alone.

In my case, working out became my way through the pitfalls of puberty. With all that testosterone flowing and all the energy of a teenage boy bounding through my body, I began, with my father's encouragement, to work out with a passion. It didn't take long to see the results. I've read that a boy's teenage years are the most productive time for muscular development. The energy is there and the hormones are in need of use. Harness them to physical conditioning and you have one of nature's dynamos. Within a few months I had transformed myself from a boy into a man.

I guess good genetics were on my side as well. Uncle Martin has a very muscular body. Somehow our father seemed to have missed it. He is in good shape for a man in his mid-thirties but he says he has never had the physique of Martin, who is two years older than Dad but looks several years younger. Our father has the body and the personality of a middle age man. Martin still looks and seems to be a young man.

I knew Monty had the same potential as me and encouraged him to begin working out with me. The results were unbelievable. In less time than it had taken me, my baby brother became a truly magnificent hunk, a teen boy god, an idol who drove me to a frenzy of desire!

The physical workouts helped me and helped Monty, too. They took the edge off our sexual drives and helped us get our bodies and our emotions under some degree of control. But, as everyone points out, in teenage boys the hormones really are raging.

Dad understands all that. But can he see more? Can he see the way I look at Monty, the way Monty looks at me? Does he realize that not a night goes by, not a night has gone by for over a month now, that I don't end up in Monty's bed or he ends up in mine?

Does Dad see the guilt in my eyes, the lust and passion and the guilt? I don't know how he can help but see it and the fear of his knowing is driving me a little mad.

And then there is the greatest fear of all - if Dad does see, would he take steps to separate us, to send me off to some boarding school, perhaps? Would he exile me from my family, from my home, from the one person I cannot live without?

A few weeks ago, six weeks to be exact, Tim Arnold spent a long weekend with us. We all had Thursday and Friday off from classes that week because of teachers' meetings. Tim came on Thursday and stayed till Sunday.

Understand, I'm not blaming Tim. I love him, too, but in a very different way. Tim was not the cause of what has happened. He may have accelerated it a little but it had already begun and it would have progressed more or less as it has, perhaps just a little slower.

Monty and I had talked a lot about Tim. Over the last few months we'd been talking a lot about sex, especially about guys, guys having sex with other guys. Tim had become our closest friend over this last summer. We'd all three worked together for my grandmother, helping her with her rose gardens. Monty and I had been intrigued by Tim. He is so good looking, so capable, so smart. He was just a year older than me but he seemed to have the maturity of a guy in his mid-twenties, as if he'd jumped over a lot of the teenage stuff Monty and I had to work our way through. I know he wouldn't have seen it that way, but that's how he looked to Monty and me.

Monty and I had begun to suspect that Tim was gay. It wasn't anything he said. It certainly wasn't because of his actions or mannerisms. If anything he's sort of "Super Masculine," what my father would call a "Man's Man." Tim plays football for Greenwood. He doesn't just play football, he's a star, the kind of player who gets attention state-wide and has a bunch of university scouts looking him over every time he plays.

No, it wasn't because of anything Tim did or said that Monty and I suspected he might be gay. But because we suspected it about him, we also began to suspect some things about ourselves. Were we sensing some of the same traits in him that we also saw in ourselves? The driving interest in sports, working out to hone our bodies to perfection, the studied masculinity, was it all an attempt to cover something deeper, something we all three felt?

Then last July our Uncle Martin was here for a week or so, visiting from New York as he does three or four times each year. We'd always known that Martin was gay. It's just something we'd known all our conscious lives, known and accepted, even before we understood what it meant. We also realized that Martin was loved and affirmed by our parents and our grandmother. His sexuality just never was an issue.

Then, during that week, when Martin was here, we realized that he and Tim were forming a very special bond. We weren't sure at first if it was sexual or just a strong friendship between a teenage boy and an older man. But before Uncle Martin returned to New York, we knew. We'd established that Tim was sleeping in Martin's room and we also saw it in the way they related to one another. They had become lovers.

So by the time Tim spent that weekend with us in September, we'd confirmed that Tim was gay and that he had had some sexual experience with at least one other man. I was determined to use those days and nights he was with us to learn everything I could from him. In retrospect, he may think that he seduced me that first night. But he had to know I was, at least, very willing. The reality is that on some level I seduced Tim.

But I must go back to Monty, my brother, the one person whom I love with my whole being. A year or so ago I had begun drawing Monty into greater and greater sexual intimacy. I'm not sure what I wanted to happen between us or if I ever envisioned us becoming lovers, but I knew I was increasingly attracted to him and I suspected he was attracted to me. The thought of it, of his body, his voice, even his smell, filled me with desires I had never known before and could not understand. I was also filled with fear and guilt. At some level is was so wrong, all I felt, all I wanted, but I could not stop myself.

There's another irony here. Monty and I look so much alike that as we've gotten older and the difference in our ages becomes less pronounced, we're often thought to be identical twins. Then there is Tim Arnold, who is not related to us at all, but he too looks like Monty and me, or we look like him. We are all three blond and about six feet tall. Monty is still just a little shorter and a little lighter in weight, but he has nearly caught up and will soon be as tall as Tim and me.

And then there is our Uncle Martin. Many people who knew him when he was our age tell us, Tim, Monty and me, that we all three look very much like he looked when he was the ages we are now. It is as if, genetically at least, Monty and I are Martin's sons, not the sons of our actual father.

I've thought a lot about all that, the fact that Monty and I look so much alike, that Tim and Martin look like they came from the same genetic pool, even though they aren't related. I know a lot of people are sexually attracted to opposites. There are blond guys who lust after dark girls, or dark guys, and dark guys who only date blondes. But the opposite can also be true. It certainly seems to be in our cases. There can be a kind of attraction between people who are very much alike. I can stand looking in the mirror and see so much of my brother, Monty, or Tim or Uncle Martin. Am I attracted to myself in them? I remember reading the myth of Narcissus and then learning the word narcissistic. Am I guilty of that? Am I in love with Monty or am I in love with what I see of myself in him?

I can be looking at Monty, at his cute face, changing every day from the face of a very pretty boy to the face of a strikingly handsome young man, and see so much of myself. I can gaze across the shower at him, naked and shining with water and soap, and see a boy's body taking on the hard muscles of a powerfully built young man, a physique equal to images I've seen from classical art, the Greek or Roman or Renaissance ideal of male beauty. I can look at him and see the erotic photographs of hard, well built boys on the net, boys doing forbidden and exciting things together. And as I look at him, again, I see myself mirrored in him; his hard, defined chest, my chest; the bulk of his biceps and the muscular curve of his thighs, my arms, my legs. Self love, perhaps, but not entirely. I can love what I see of myself in Monty but I can also lose all of myself in him.

There has been a lot of physical intimacy between Monty and me since we were kids. We've showered together, slept naked as long as we can remember and climbed in and out of each other's beds as if it was perfectly normal. I guess it was perfectly normal. At some point I began to really encourage it, trying to increase the amount of contact, touching, feeling, lying naked together for longer periods of time. I never got the feeling from Monty that he objected. In fact, he'd begun to initiate such contact between us on his own. He'd climb into my bed and snuggle against me. I'd get hard and knew he was as well, but we never said anything about it.

About a year ago I was lying in bed one morning jacking off. I was naked of course, and lying on my back with my hard cock completely exposed as I stroked it. I'd been doing it a lot, sort of expecting, hoping, that sometime or other Monty would see me doing it.

That morning I realized he had started around the partition that divides my sleeping area from the rest of our room. He stopped without coming on into my area but I knew he was standing there watching me. I just kept going, too close to coming to stop, but also really putting on a show for him.

When I came, I moaned aloud and made sure he got a good look as my stuff shot out of my cock and landed on my chest and stomach. I waited a little, letting my cock calm down, then let go of it so it fell back over my thigh at its most impressive angle. Then, feeling especially daring, I moved my hand up along my belly and then across my chest, collecting the strands of my seed which had puddled there. Once my fingers were dripping with the stuff, I brought them to my mouth and licked the sticky goo, taking it into my mouth, rolling it around and then swallowed it. I'd done it many times, but that time was for Monty's benefit. I knew he was watching and I knew he was hard.

A couple of days later, when we were in the shower together, I just started flogging away in front of him. I knew he'd seen me doing it before but he didn't know I knew. I think he was a little shocked by my boldness, but it worked. He watched me for a minute or two and then started doing it himself.

I didn't realize then that he still couldn't come. I mean, he reached climax but he still wasn't producing semen. That first time we did it together he had a powerful climax but I guess it was what's called a "dry come." Actually, it was only a few months ago that Monty finally started producing a load. The first time he did it we were beating off together in the shower and I guess it really took him by surprise.

Monty's first real orgasm was so intense that he just about fell over from the shock. He leaned back against the wall of the shower and just slumped there for several minutes. I really wanted to just go over to him and take him in my arms, to hold him and let him know it was okay, better than okay, it was great!

But after all the months we'd been doing it together, but not touching each other, we'd never talked about it or acknowledged what we were doing. We were doing it but not admitting we were doing it together. So I didn't have the nerve to go over and hold him like I wanted to. I guess it was then that I decided I had to get us out of that weird situation and into having more open, more acknowledged sex together. I suspected Monty felt the same way but I am the older brother and I guess he sort of expected me to take the lead.

The chance for that came right after Tim stayed over with us. That Thursday night Tim ended up in my bed after Monty had gone to sleep. We got in my bed together just to continue talking a little longer, at least that's what we told ourselves. But it wasn't long before we were touching and then talking openly about sex. Tim offered to give me my first blow job and who was I to turn him down?

The next morning Monty found Tim and me naked and in bed together. It didn't take too much intelligence on Monty's part to guess what had happened. Later that day Tim and I had sex again, just the two of us, and that time I took a more active role.

Then that afternoon Tim and I sort of drew Monty into some sexual play. By then we'd let Tim know that Monty and I had been beating off together but not touching each other. I guess that was all it took to set the stage for what happened that night.

We'd been at a picnic at Montgomery Hall. We'd been in the pool there, swimming and playing around, but also keeping an eye on the younger kids. We came home feeling sort of prickly, the way you do after you've been in a swimming pool and the chlorinated water has dried on your skin. So we all three get in our big shower together and, would you believe it? Monty is the first one of us to start playing with himself, just flipping his cock around at first, but soon enough he's completely hard and really beating it.

Now it was no big deal for Monty to whack off in front of me, we were doing it all the time, but Tim was there, too. Once Monty starts it, Tim and I join in. Then Tim comes over to me and starts playing with my cock and I do the same to him. Monty watches us for a while and then joins us. He reached out to play with Tim's cock and I can't wait to get my hands on him. I'd been wanting to touch Monty for months and there I was really doing it!

We'd been playing with each other for a few minutes, but none of us had come, when Tim said, "you guys only play around like this in the shower?"

"We've been beating off in front of each other but not touching each other `till now," Monty repeated what Tim already knew.

"Well, let's get out of the shower and dry off. This would be more fun in bed," Tim said and within minutes we were all piled on the sofa bed together. It was pulled out and made up as a bed for Tim to use while he was with us and it's big, a queen size bed I guess, and a lot bigger than the singles Monty and I have.

We continued playing with each other's cocks and were getting pretty hot. "Look, Monty," Tim said at about that point, "I guess you figured out Dave and I went further than this last night, right?"

"I kind of thought so," Monty admitted.

"Well," Tim said, "we, then, all know where we're coming from and I might just as well say it. I wouldn't mind having a dick in my mouth. Who's it gona be?"

"Maybe you'd better do Dave again," Monty said. "I'll just watch."

So without even asking me if it was okay, Tim just turns around and lies down so his face was right at my crotch. He starts kissing my thigh, then moves over to my cock and kisses it. I just lie back and let it happen. In about another minute Tim has my cock in his mouth and is bobbing up and down, getting me close to coming and not showing any signs of slowing down. It was all I could do to hold back, even a little, and in just a couple of minutes of that I shot big time, right down his throat. Once I'd come, Tim moved up and he and I got into some really passionate kissing.  I could taste my seed in his mouth and that got me really hot.

At about the same time, Monty lost his load and I moved around so I could take Tim's cock in my mouth and return the favor. Within moments we'd all three come and then the fatigue of the day seemed to hit us. We all three fell asleep in a kind of limp pile, our bodies all twisted up together. A couple of hours later I woke up.

My back was killing me and my right arm was asleep under Tim. I sort of worked myself free and just went off to my own bed. Monty did the same and we ended up alone, each of us in our own beds for the rest of the night.

Saturday night more or less the same thing happened. Tim and I gave each other blow jobs in front of Monty with him just watching and beating himself off. Tim made it clear that he'd take care of Monty if he wanted but Monty turned him down.

Sunday we all went to church together in Greenwood and afterwards our family went on to Tim's folks for lunch. They have a really nice ranch house, not all that big, but nice, and Tim has his own room. We talked a little after we'd eaten and played some computer games in Tim's room. He showed Monty and me some web sites he'd found, sites which had a lot of information for young gay and bi-sexual guys. But by about four o'clock our folks were making moves to head back to Winona so we all said our good-byes. Monty and I made sure Tim knew how much we'd enjoyed having him with us for the long weekend and told him we really hoped he'd find another time to stay over with us real soon. So far it hasn't happened but I hope it does.
When we got home that evening Monty and I just headed up to our room. We were tired and the next day school was starting again. I wanted to do a little review for a couple of my classes and I guess Monty had some similar stuff to get through.

About six-thirty, Steve, our younger brother came bounding up the stairs to say Mom had made sandwiches and did we want to come down? We went down to the family room and ate with the rest of the family.

Afterwards Monty and I cleaned up the few dishes and did the washing up. Dad said they were going to watch some new movie he'd just picked up. It was a kid's movie and I said I'd really like to be excused. Monty said he'd like to head up as well, so the two of us went on up to our room while the rest of the family settled down to watch two and a half hours of furry critters having scary adventures before they finally got to the happy ending.

Upstairs I got undressed and headed for the shower. Minutes later Monty joined me. For once, we didn't start playing with ourselves and neither one of us made any move to touch the other. Monty seemed sort of reserved, not his usual energetic self and I wondered if something was bothering him, or worse, if he was coming down with a cold.

"I'm going to read a little more, Bro." I said as we were drying off.

"Yeah, I figured," he said. "Could we maybe talk a little later?"

"Sure, Mont, whenever you want."

I dried off and got into bed naked, as was our usual habit, and dug into the chapter of American history I wanted to review for my class on Monday morning. Half an hour later, just as I was finishing the chapter, Monty came into my area from his end of our big room.

"Finish you stuff?" he asked.

"Yeah, all done. What's up?" I said. Monty was naked, the usual garb or lack thereof, and just sort of made himself comfortable on my bed. I was more or less covered but he was stretched out bare ass naked on top of the sheets and I was really enjoying the view. The boy is beautiful, but I've told you that already.

"I guess I sort of wanted to talk about what went on with Tim."

"I wondered if you were bothered by all of that," I said.

"Yeah, Dave, I really was, but probably not the way you think," Monty responded.

"Why don't you tell me what you're thinking," I said.

We both lay there in silence for several minutes. I figured Monty was getting his thoughts together and figured I'd just wait him out. After a while he began.

"Did you enjoy what you and Tim were doing together?" he asked.

"You mean the oral sex, right?"

"Yeah, that and the kissing and the touching each other."

"Yeah, Monty, I liked it a lot." We were both silent again and after a minute or so, I said, "I only feel bad if it bothered you, us doing it in front of you, I mean."

"No, it really didn't bother me. I sort of wanted to join in."

"Why didn't you?"

"I just felt odd with Tim. I mean it was cool what we did out at Lucifer's Leap, you guys pulling me into your little wrestling match, but here I felt better just watching."

Was I sensing something left unsaid? I was trying to decide if I should push it a little when we heard our father coming up the stairs to our room.

"You guys tucked in?" he called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Here," I said to Monty, lifting the sheet so he could climb under the covers with me. Usually when Dad was around Monty and I made a point of at least wearing our jockey shorts and I wasn't sure if Dad knew we slept naked. In any case, I didn't want to get into all that right then.

"We're in here, Dad," I called. "Come on around, we're just talking."

Dad came into my end of the room and sat down on the foot of my bed.

"You guys okay?" he asked, making no comment on our bare chests and shoulders, which was all of us that was visible above the sheet.

"Yeah, fine, Dad," Monty said. "We were just taking about the weekend."

"It was nice having Tim here," Dad said. "He strikes me as a real nice young man."

"Yeah, he is," I said, "a great guy, I mean."

"Well, you two are okay then."

"Yeah, we're fine. School and sports and everything else got off to a good start for both of us this year."

"Good. That's what I like to hear. It just seems like I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to talk."

"We'd come looking for you if we had a problem, Dad," Monty said and I think our father knew it was true.

"Well, okay then. I'm leaving for some meetings in Jackson in the morning. I'll probably be gone before you guys get up and I won't be home until late Thursday night. I hope you two will help your mother any way you can this week."

"Sure, Dad," we both responded.

"Good. I knew you would." He rose and leaned over to kiss each of us on the forehead. "Monty, don't keep Dave up too late, okay? Get on over to your own bed in a little while so you can both get to sleep."

"We won't talk much longer, Dad," I assured him as he headed toward the stairs.

"Love you guys," he called back.

"Love you, too," Monty and I called to him as he started down.

Monty rolled over onto his side and I could feel the warmth of his body against mine. It was time to take a chance.

`You said you felt odd with Tim."

"Yeah."

"Would you have felt better if it had just been you and me?"

"Yeah, Dave, I would, a lot better."

"Did it bother you that I was doing it with him?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess I did. I mean I didn't mind, I just felt sort of odd about it."

"Odd about what we were doing or odd that I was doing it with him?"

"Oh, just that you were doing it with Tim. I thought what you were doing was really hot."

We were both silent again as I sort of processed what he'd just said.

"I guess it was good having Tim here," Monty went on. "I mean, he did sort of get us out of our box."

"What do you mean, `our box?'" I asked.

"Well, you know. We've been beating off in front of each other for months now. I'd kept thinking I'd sort of like to see how your cock felt and I suspect you'd thought the same thoughts. But we never got up the nerve to try it till Tim came along. He got us touching him and each other in the process."

"You liked that?"

"Yeah, a lot," he grinned.

"So are you saying, Monty, that if it had just been you and me messing around last night you'd have been interested in joining in?"

"Yeah."

"But you didn't feel comfortable doing that stuff with Tim?"

"You're my brother, Dave. I'd never feel uncomfortable with you. I mean, I really like Tim, but I don't know him the way I know you, and I don't know if he'd always accept me and love me, no matter what I did or how I did it."

"He offered to give you a blow job, Monty. You wouldn't have had to do anything but lie back and let him work his magic."

"Yeah, but my first blow job, Dave, I mean..." He fell silent again.

"Yeah, Monty?"

"Well, like I said, I really like Tim, but the first time, I guess I want it to be with someone I know I really love and someone I know really loves me."

"Yeah?"

"You, Bro. I just want it to be with you."

To be continued