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 toread 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.
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 fifth 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.
I more or less told Dave I loved him that Sunday night. It was the weekend Tim Arnold had spent with us and a lot had happened, sexually, I mean. Well, maybe I didn't exactly tell Dave I loved him, but he knows I do. We were lying naked in his bed, which in itself is fairly normal for us. What I told him was that when it came to sex, I had felt a little strange with Tim. It isn't that I don't like Tim. The truth is, I like him a lot.
"Tim 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," Dave had said.
"Yeah, but my first blow job, Dave, I mean..." I didn't know how to go on.
"Yeah, Monty?" Dave had said, encouraging me to continue.
"Well, like I said," I'd sort of stammered, "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?" Dave just wasn't going to let me off the hook.
"You, Bro. I just want it to be with you." I'd finally gotten it out.
Dave was silent for a moment and I really feared I'd said too much. "Stay put, Mont," Dave finally said, "I'll be right back. He threw back the sheet which covered us and slid out of his bed. He grabbed a towel for the chair and wrapped it around his naked body and headed for the stairs. What was he doing, I wondered, but just stayed put. Within a minute he was back.
"What was that all about?" I asked as he tossed the towel and got back into bed. His body felt so good pressed against mine.
"Checking the door. I didn't want any more visitors tonight." Our dad had been up a little earlier to check on us and, while our folks never came up without calling up the stairs first, our younger brother, Steve, bounded up unannounced. Sometimes we kind of thought he sort of sneaked up as quietly as he could, just to see what we were up to. "I blocked the door with an umbrella," Dave said as he rolled over against me. "If anyone tried to come up the door wouldn't open but it would make a crashing sound. We could always say the umbrella had just slipped down by accident."
"Think we need some privacy, huh?"
"Definitely," Dave said as he kissed my neck. We'd never kissed before, other than just brotherly stuff on the cheek or something and this was something new, a sort of a long, warm, wet nuzzle. I felt myself getting hard and realized a low moan was also slipping from my half open mouth. "You like that?" Dave whispered.
"Yeah, it feels great."
"Why don't you try doing it to me?" he suggested.
"On your neck."
"Yeah, that's good for starters."
I rolled over onto my side as Dave lay back against the pillow. The bed was narrow, just your usual single, and our bodies pressed together under the sheet. I realized Dave was as hard as I was. I hesitated for a moment, not knowing quite how to begin, then just went for it. I pressed my closed mouth against Dave's neck, his shoulder, actually and then opened my lips just a bit and began to run my tongue back and forth.
Have I told you about my brother? Dave is almost sixteen, not quite two years older than me. He's a little taller and a little heavier than me and there isn't an ounce of fat on him. I guess we were both sort of blessed with good genes. We both have the kind of body that responds quickly to physical training. When Dave was about thirteen he started working out, weights, running, the whole thing. Within a year he'd more or less transformed himself into a sort of teen god. All the girls at our school swoon over him and I began to notice that there were quite a few guys who couldn't take their eyes off him as well.
About a year ago I started working out, too. Dave was great, helping me, encouraging me, offering to work out and go on jogs with me. It worked, too. Like I said, good genes.
So there I was, running my tongue back and forth over this one little hard bunched up bit of Dave's muscular body and I sort of thought, hey, this is so cool. I can feel the way the muscles of his shoulders move and flex under his golden skin. I can taste, sort of sweet, and salt, and soap, the clean taste of his skin. Man, I realized, I'd been wanting to touch him like this for months, so why stop with just this one little patch of my hard, muscular, teen god brother?
I expanded the area I was kissing just a bit, no need to set off alarms, right, no reason to send him into panic. So I nuzzled his neck the way he'd done mine, then moved out a little toward the peak of his shoulder where the hard mound of muscle swells into a baseball sized knot. He was moaning by then just like I'd moaned when he nuzzled me.
"Oh, Bro," Dave is saying, sort of, "that feels so good."
I move back toward center and a little south, running my tongue over the curve of his chest, down along the cleft between his glorious pecks. I find his right nipple, kiss it a little, then get maybe a little too carried away.
Kissing turns to licking, which turns to sort of nibbling. Just running my tongue over that small part of Dave's body was a revelation. That combination of tastes which was Dave had set my whole body on fire. I didn't realize it then, but I was hooked, I was addicted. >From that moment on I could not get enough of the taste of him.
Suddenly I was on my back. In one sudden, swift, fluid motion, Dave had raised up, rolled over, done a two point pin and had his mouth on mine. We aren't nuzzling anymore. This is serious kissing and I was really getting into it. My lips parted just a little and his tongue was there. My tongue responded and suddenly I was in his mouth and he was in mine. Our lips were no longer just parted a little. Our mouths were wide open and gaping and trying to consume each other. Moans turned to deep chest-shaking growls and then Dave was on me, fully on me, his body pressing down on mine, his cock as hard as mine and wet, both of us wet, both of us grasping, holding, not wanting any part of my body to lose contact with the matching part of his.
We broke for lack of air and, before I could think, I said it, said what was there waiting in my mouth, on my tongue, pulsing in my mind, "Oh, Dave, I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Bro, with all my heart."
Our breathing calmed down a little, his weight on me didn't allow for more.
"Did you say something about a blow job," Dave grinned at me as he slid down my body, his hands finding and kneading my chest, pinching my nipples, then moving on.
He was between my spread legs, my legs wide open, welcoming him, willing him to take me, to do anything he wanted. I just yielded; I was his. His lips find the wet, drooling head of my cock, pulsing, bobbing with anticipation. His right hand grasps it, steadies it, holds it with just an inch exposed behind the flair of the head. His lips press against the tip, against my slit, his tongue licks it, adding his saliva to my leaking fluids. His lips part and he takes the head, just takes it in, holds it, swirls his tongue over it, welcomes it, loves it.
Dave did not respond. His ability to speak was seriously impaired by the head of my cock in his mouth. His hand around the shaft slipped down a little, exposing more of it to his lips, his tongue, his consuming mouth.
"Oh, Dave," I moan again. It was becoming a chant, a mantra, "I love you so much."
Dave's hand was slipping further back along the shaft of my cock and his lips were quick to follow. With each move of his hand, more of my cock slipped into his mouth, into his throat. Suddenly I was deep in him. I slipped into an almost catatonic state as new sensations hit me. I couldn't believe the signals that were bombarding my nervous system! Masturbation had never come anywhere close to this and I felt as if at any moment my body was going to slip into overload.
Then it hit me, what Dave was doing. He really had my cock in his throat! He was doing something I couldn't figure out at first. All I knew was that it was wonderful. Then I realized he was swallowing, again and again, and each time his constricting throat was closing around the head of my cock, massaging it, sending me to new levels of sexual arousal. How could he do that, I wondered. How could he physically take me so deep into himself without gagging. Then it hit me. He had had a master teacher and that teacher was Tim. I must admit that while I had held back from such overt sex with Tim, wanting instead to experience it first with Dave, my brother, my one true love, I owed a great debt to Tim for leading Dave into such wonders. It was an almost blinding realization. Dave had been taught by Tim and I was the beneficiary of his skills. And Tim? Had his teacher been our Uncle Martin, as Dave and I suspected. Suddenly a whole new sense of wonder broke upon me; men loving men, teaching men, passing along such wonders, such knowledge from one generation to the next. I never wanted to experience sex with anyone other than Dave. I knew, even then, that he was my world. But yet in the close, closed relationship I dreamed of with him there was that knowledge, that sense of the initiation into something much larger, something going back through all the generations of men who had loved other men.
Dave's now free hand moved up my chest to join his other hand, both hands now feeling my nipples, teasing them. Dave's right hand moves on up my neck and then over my jaw, were it encounters my lips and begins to trace them, pressing, seeking admission. I open my lips just a little and one finger slips in.
I was suddenly hit by that taste again. Even Dave's fingers carried his essence. I had never known. That taste, sort of sweet, a little salty, and soap, the clean taste of his skin. My new addiction hit my nervous system like a jolt and my penis erupted. Heavy, thick clumps of my seed shot through my cock, launching themselves deep into Dave's waiting throat. He backed off a little, taking the second burst in his mouth. I felt it puddle on his waiting tongue, felt it as he moved it around, swathing my cock with it.
My moans were constant now, coming from someplace deep in my being, below my chest, moving up and out through my lungs, sliding along my throat, filling my mouth, then at last escaping as a deep rumble of fulfilled desire. I realized that Dave now had three fingers in my mouth, not just pressing over my lips, but deep in my mouth, seeking to go deeper. I closed my lips around them and sucked, sucked like a nursing baby demanding sustenance. And it was then I knew it was not his fingers I needed, not his fingers I wanted to suck. It was Dave's cock, his manhood I needed, wanted, had to have.
My brother rose up, his body sliding over mine, the hard muscles of his chest pressing against mine, his lips finding mine as I reluctantly gave up the fingers he had let me suck. Dave's lips were against my lips and I was opening to them. The storehouse of his mouth opened to my mouth and flooded me with his saliva and my own seed, saliva, semen, his and mine, exploding on my tongue. The taste of it, his taste, my taste, mixed, one.
Again, it was as if a sensory bomb had gone off deep inside me, signals I hadn't known existed hit every nerve in my body, shooting to the very center of my brain. My cock erupted again, spontaneously, untouched, erupted with a new bolt of my very existence, shooting into the tight, hot spaces between Dave's hard stomach and mine.
Dave moved back, withdrew his lips from mine and the deep, muffled moan I had felt before came forth. "Oh, Dave! I never knew," I managed to say as the mingled fluids of his body and mine slipped down my throat, into me. In somewhat intelligible words I tired to say again, "I never knew!"
"I love you Mont," he whispered, "I love you with all my heart."
There is a respite from desire. Not that the desire is no longer there, not that it can ever be truly satisfied, but from exhaustion alone a respite comes. I collapsed back onto Dave's bed and he lay against me, our bodies pressed together, cemented together by my drying cum.
I may have slept, I think I dreamed. A boy was running through a field. It was spring and the boy was me. There was a pool of clear water from a spring, a pool so clear and calm that it seemed to hold the sky. I ran to it and dove in. There was no bottom and I seemed to go on for ever, not wanting it to end, not needing air. I was lost in the clarity of that new world and never wanted to return.
"Should you go to your own bed, Mont?" Dave was saying as he nuzzled my ear.
"No, Dave. I need to be with you."
I rolled over a little onto my side so he had more room in the narrow bed, his bed which I had commandeered, stolen, claimed. We lay in each other's arms, our naked bodies pressed together. I think we both slept again.
The pool had no bottom, it was a world in itself. I swam deeper, not wanting to ever leave the place I now knew I really belonged. This was the world I had dreamed of but never known, the world I knew in some deep recess of my mind. I lost myself in it. Waking as the first light streamed through the window, the dream was still with me, still vivid in my mind.
Yes, I realized, the world where I truly belonged, a clear pool, bottomless and sweet. My brother was that world, that pool, the place were I belonged. I rose a little and looked down at him. He lay uncovered on the pure white sheet, his nakedness like gold and I could revel in him. I let my eyes move over him with deliberate care, absorbing each detail. I reveled in the way his arms bent and his legs spread. I marveled at the mass of his chest and the thickness of his thighs, the way his stomach rose and fell with each breath, how his lips parted just enough for me to see the glint of white teeth and the protected pink of his tongue.
This was the other person in my life, the other self, the one I knew and in my knowing him, understood myself. I wanted to consume him, take all of him into myself, feel his being merge with mine. But I restrained myself so he could sleep and, in that sleep, give me the continuing luxury of perceiving him.
Eventually he stirred. His eyes opened and he smiled, seeing me there, knowing that I had been watching him. "It wasn't a dream," he said.
"No, it wasn't a dream."
"Will you kiss me?"
I lowered my lips to his and held them there, just touching, with the pressure of a butterfly. I made no effort to assert myself, made no attempt to claim what I knew was already mine.
When I backed away he smiled. "We're..." There was a long pause.
"Yes?" I finally asked, wanting him to continue.
"We're lovers," he sighed and a little smile danced over his lips. There was a twinkle in his eyes.
"Yes," I said again, but this time it was not a question but a statement.
"This changes everything," Dave said as he drew me back into his arms.
To be continued