Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2022 02:14:29 -0400
From: Alex R. <boywithflyingfish@gmail.com>
Subject: Clueless (gay/incest)

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This story is fictional, but I'm sure something made me think it up.

* * * * *

CLUELESS
========

When I was twelve, I was clueless. Clueless about myself, clueless about
others, and especially clueless about sex. Like, I had just hit puberty,
I had a few scraggly hairs growing around my cock. But I didn't know
what to do with that cock, if you know what I mean. I didn't know what
new features puberty had unlocked.

I knew wet dreams were a thing. I'd heard people joke about them. I'd
even heard the phrase "nocturnal emissions". And I remember thinking,
now that I've hit puberty, I guess I'm gonna have one of those wet
dreams any day now. But I never had one. Or at least, I was pretty sure
I'd never had one. That's not the sort of thing you can have and not
realize it, right? I had no idea.

So one day I mentioned this to the boy who lived next door. He was a year
older than me, and presumably knew more about this sort of thing. And we
were talking about, I don't know, video games or something, when out of
the blue I said:

"So I guess I'm gonna have a wet dream soon, but it hasn't happened
yet."

He got a panicked look in his eyes, and suddenly started talking real
quietly.

"Um, do you, like, jerk off?"

So, I'd heard of jerking off. But I didn't really understand the
mechanics of it. I knew it involved making yourself feel good until you
came (another concept I didn't really understand). But I didn't know
what exactly you were supposed to do to make yourself feel good. No one
had ever explained this to me. So I asked him if he ever jerked off, and
what he did to make himself feel good.

In a different world -- in a better world -- he might have taken me into
his room and closed the door. He might have whipped out his stubby,
still-growing cock and told me to take out mine. He could have sworn me
to secrecy, and then shown me exactly how he jerked off, sliding his hand
up and down. He could have given me pointers and guidance on my first
fumbling attempt. He could have given me a helping hand, shown me how
tightly he liked to squeeze. He could have told me what, if anything, he
used for lube, and he could have suggested I let it all shoot out on my
stomach, and then told me to wipe it up with a tissue or a sock, or to
enjoy letting it dry out. It could have been a lot of fun, and I could
have learned a few things. But he was shy, and I'm sure he was anxious
about doing anything that seemed "gay". And anyway, he probably never
had anyone teach him how to do this. Maybe he was anxious that he was
doing it wrong. I don't know.

All I know is that he couldn't look me in the eye as he mumbled
something about "rubbing it".

"Rubbing it" wasn't a lot for me to go on, but it was something. So I
nodded at his advice and let him know that I would give "rubbing it" a
try that night. He blushed and quickly made up an excuse to go inside
and, I don't know, do homework or something. Or maybe jerk off, alone.

At the time, I didn't think anything of this little conversation --
like, it took me a few years to realize how uncomfortable I'd made him.
How my conversation came out of nowhere, and how it was not like anything
else we'd ever talked about. As I said, I was clueless. But I went home
satisfied. I had advice! I had a plan!

And so when I went to bed that night, I did what he said. I started to
rub my cock. And by that I mean, just, like, rubbing it. He hadn't even
made the little wanking motion with his hand! I guess I'd never seen
that, or never realized that it was connected to masturbating, so I
didn't know to try that. I just rubbed and rubbed. Oh, also, he hadn't
mentioned anything about thinking sexy thoughts. I didn't know that was
a thing people did when they jerked off. And so I didn't think of
anything but the task at hand. It was completely incompetent
masturbating. But eventually, after two long hours of poking about down
there, rubbing myself silly, I finally figured out a technique  and a
rhythm that worked, and I finally had my first orgasm.

You will not be surprised to learn that the orgasm felt really good.

Nor will you be surprised to learn that I did it again the following
night. This time, I started with the technique I finished with last time.
It was significantly more efficient.

* * * * *

But even though I'd had a few orgasms, and knew a little about jerking
off, I was still clueless. And so, as I explored what turned me on, I did
it without a plan, without context, without a thought in my clueless
head. For example, I don't remember why I first put a finger up my butt.
It's not something anyone ever told me people did to feel good. Even
once I started exploring my butt with my finger (mostly in the bath), I
wasn't really thinking "oh yeah, this is hot, this feels good". It was
more like I was on autopilot. I think it took me a few years until I had
the idea to try doing it while jerking off. (Or maybe by that point I had
finally seen some porn that put the idea in my head. A few years later,
the internet would be a thing, but when I was twelve, the few bits of
porn I'd encountered were entirely vanilla.)

And so please believe me when I tell you that, as far as the next part of
this story goes? I didn't do it intentionally. I didn't do any of the
things I'm about to describe in order to get off. Or, at least, it
wasn't part of a devious plan to get off. I was too clueless. What I
did, I just sort of... did. Head empty, on autopilot.

So. Right. So. What I haven't mentioned so far was that, when I was
doing my first two-hour jerk off session, I had to do it very quietly. I
had to be subtle. Because I shared my bedroom with my brother, who was a
little younger than me. I wasn't worried about him seeing me, because we
shared bunk beds, and he was on the top bunk. He couldn't really see
what I got up to in the bottom bunk. But I was worried about shaking the
bed too much as I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. And I'm sure I tried to
make as little noise as possible when I came.

But, really, I didn't put too much thought into being sneaky. Partially
because, as I've been saying, I was clueless -- I didn't put much
thought into anything! But also because my brother was one of those kids
who slept like a log. Once he was asleep, it was obvious he was asleep,
and it took a lot to wake him up. We once had a little kitchen fire
-- smoke alarms went off, firemen showed up. Everything was totally fine,
but my parents and I were amazed that my brother slept through all that
racket.

In fact, there was a sort of game we'd play that was related to how deep
a sleeper he was. He'd pretend to be asleep -- sometimes to get out of
doing chores, but not always -- and I'd say, "Oh, you're asleep? Then
you won't notice it when my hand moves in to tickle you..." -- and I'd
bring my hand up to his neck, or his armpit, or his belly, or wherever.
(It really didn't matter where -- he was incredibly ticklish
everywhere.) And, since he wasn't asleep at all, he'd panic about the
tickles and he'd scream and flinch and roll away. And of course I would
still tickle him, because that's what older brothers do, and I'd tease
him and I'd call him a faker and say he wasn't fooling anyone.

Right. So one night as I went to bed... well, I guess I wanted to jerk
off. It had been a few months since my first clumsy experiments, and
since then I'd had a lot of practice, and I was much better at it. I now
had a proper bush of pubes (ok, maybe just a small shrub) and my cock was
bigger. I didn't really have much to compare it back then, so I didn't
realize how big it was. I mean, it wasn't a monster. Nowadays it's
about seven and a half inches -- bigger than most, but probably not the
biggest you'll ever play with. And I don't know how much of that I had
by then. But I was a tall and skinny beanpole of a kid, with a cock that
had some heft to it when it was hard. At the time I didn't think it was
anything remarkable, but... it probably was?

Anyway, I was getting ready to go to bed, I was all changed into my
pajama bottoms, I was probably horny and excited to jerk off. But also I
probably wasn't thinking "I'm horny and looking forward to jerking
off", because, again, I was clueless.

But as I entered our bedroom, I thought I heard my brother move. So I
stepped on the ladder to check the top bunk, and whispered, "Are you
asleep?"

I don't know if he thought he would get in trouble if he wasn't asleep
yet. I don't know if he thought we were playing the usual old game. I
don't know what was going on. But he didn't say anything.

Still, something seemed suspicious. So I said, "Well, I know if you're
really asleep, you won't wake up if I touch your arm..." And I touched
his arm through his pajamas.

He didn't say anything, but his face totally reacted when I touched his
arm. The little faker! Something about his bad job pretending to be
asleep must have made me raise the stakes a little.

So I said, "And you won't wake up if I touch your stomach..."

And normally this would be when I would tickle his stomach. But I didn't
want him to make a bunch of noise and draw attention from our parents. So
I didn't tickle him. He still flinched a little, expecting a tickle --
it was completely obvious that he was actually awake. But I gently rubbed
his stomach instead. And as I rubbed, his pajama shirt lifted up a
little, and some of my fingers touched his smooth skin as my hand made
soft circles.

He still pretended to be asleep.

Maybe I just wanted to get him to admit he was awake. But I didn't want
him to be able to claim he had been asleep until I woke him up by
tickling him. I had to be gentle.

So I said, "You won't even wake up, even if I touch you here..."

I don't know the last time I'd touched my brother's dick. It was
probably when we were little, taking baths together? Many, many years
earlier. And now, as I moved my hand down to it, did I stop for a second
and ask myself if I should touch his dick? No, of course I didn't. In
part because this all happened long ago, before parents taught their kids
about consent -- I don't even think we even got much of a "don't let
strangers touch you in your private parts" talk back then. But more
importantly, as I keep saying, I wasn't really thinking at all back
then. I was just... doing things. I was just sliding my hand down to my
little brother's crotch to see if he would "wake up".

He did not "wake up". He was, however, hard as a nail. He wasn't
making a tent -- his little stiffy was pressed up tight against his
stomach. But it was urgently hard.

My brother didn't press his little dick into my hand or anything. He
wasn't grinding up against me. No, he lay perfectly still.

I think he wanted to see where this was going.

Where else could it go? Back then, if you'd stopped the tape at this
moment and asked twelve-year-old me what was going to happen next, I
wouldn't have an answer for you. Even though I was about to do it, I
couldn't have guessed what I would say or do next. Even though I don't
think anyone reading this would be surprised that I then told my brother:

"You won't even wake up if I..."

And then I slowly and gently pulled down his pajama pants and set his
little cock free.

* * * * *

It was small and smooth and hairless. It was circumcised, like mine,
though at that point I didn't know that anything had been done to our
cocks. The head was like a fireman's hat, tilted way back. And it was
very hard -- if I tried to pull it, to make it stand perpendicular to his
body, it resisted.

I couldn't stop touching it. He was "asleep" and didn't ask me to
stop touching it.

After a while -- a few seconds? a few minutes? longer? -- I went and made
sure that our bedroom door was securely shut. (Yeah, I did all this
before closing the door! Like I keep saying, I wasn't very thoughtful.)
And then I came back to our bunk beds and started back up the ladder.

My brother had pulled his pajama pants back up -- final proof, if proof
were needed, that he was totally awake during all this.

I'd like to say that when I started touching his crotch again, when I
pulled down his pajama pants again, when I started playing with his bare
little cock again, when I climbed all the way into his bunk in order to
get better access to his body, when I finally pulled down my pajamas to
let out my own cock (my cock, which even I couldn't help but notice was
vastly bigger than his, and which was also incredibly hard), when I took
his "sleeping" hand and placed it on my hard cock (his hand didn't
grasp my cock, didn't give away the ruse, but just sort of limply stayed
there, draped on my cock for a while), when I started kissing his body,
licking his body, and put his little cock entirely in my mouth (it easily
fit, I could have put the whole cock and balls in at the same time if I
wanted to, if I'd thought to)... I'd like to say that I did all that
after getting little signals from him that he was into what I was doing,
that he wanted to explore with me, that this was all turning him on.

But I can't say that. I mean, honestly I wasn't even thinking about
whether I wanted to do any of this. I couldn't have told you, in the
moment, whether it was turning me on or not. It was, I recognize that
now, but at the time I was on autopilot. Maybe he was too? Later on --
because this was the first of many, many times when we played this new
game -- he would quietly let me know that he was into it. But this first
time... well, maybe he didn't know? Or maybe he was ecstatic the whole
time? I don't know. All I knew is that he wasn't stopping me.

I explored him for what felt like an hour. And I was still sucking his
little cock, swirling it around in my mouth, when we heard our parents
start to come upstairs to bed. My brother's eyes opened wide in a panic,
and we made very brief eye contact. And I leapt out of the top bunk as
quietly as I could, to get into my bed and under the covers, lying on my
stomach to obscure my hard-on, in case they came in to check on us, which
they did. But they saw we were both asleep. And so they went to bed.

I didn't take any more risks that night, and jerked off quietly.

* * * * *

Let me just say, THANK GOD I knew what a blowjob was. A few years
earlier, some  kids at school were talking about blowjobs, and one of the
kids admitted he didn't know what we were talking about. "What's a
blowjob?" And so the rest of us made fun of him, but they also explained
it to him, and I got to learn as well, while pretending I knew the whole
time. And that's how I found out that a blowjob involved a dick going
into someone's mouth, and that it didn't involve any actual blowing.
Just licking and sucking, like on a lollipop.

And so, because I knew about blowjobs, when I found myself playing with
my brother's hard cock, some part of my brain knew I could give it a few
licks. To put it in my mouth. I guess I knew that he was too young for
anything to come out -- or, you know, I didn't think he was going to pee
in my mouth (and it was many years before I learned that I might enjoy it
if he did). But, hey! Turns out I really love sucking on a cock! So thank
you, random classmate who was brave enough to admit he didn't know what
a blowjob was. Your little moment of shame led to me having a lot of fun.

I think my brother would have thanked that kid too, if he knew the back
story. Instead he just got to spend the last few years of elementary
school getting blowjobs all the time. I can't tell you how often we
would play the sleeping game -- it must have been a few times a week?
Usually at bedtime, but sometimes we played in the middle of the day, if
our parents were at work or something.

If it was before bed, it was easy enough for me to initiate things, but
every once in a while, he started it. He would sometimes "fall asleep"
in the middle of the day when everyone was gone. Or he would say, "I
think I'm going to go upstairs and fall asleep for a bit...", trailing
off to suggest what he couldn't explicitly say.

Because we never talked about it. Never never never. I'm sure he knew he
wasn't fooling anyone with his sleep act, but I would let him keep up
the charade. Like any clueless kid, sometimes I was a little clumsy, so
sometimes I would accidentally scrape his cock with a tooth. And then he
might make a little noise, or readjust himself, or just say "Careful!"
and then go back to being pretend-asleep.

And as I learned about other sexy things people do, I tried to
incorporate some of them. Usually my brother wouldn't let me. He didn't
seem to get anything out of having his nipples played with. He didn't
let me slide my dick into his mouth. He was very much not up for when my
fingers or dick got anywhere near his butt. (Though, if I had known about
rimming back then, could I have licked my way down there? I wonder...) He
was totally willing and able to communicate when I'd brushed up against
one of his limits, and usually it wasn't a big deal -- I'd stop, and
he'd "go back to sleep", and I'd get back to sucking his hard little
cock.

I'm sure I came on him a few times, but I don't think I ever tried to,
like, cum on his face? Did I ever try to get him to taste it? Probably
not -- I think it was a while before I tasted my own cum.

There were so many things I didn't know about, and never thought to try!

* * * * *

We kept playing like this for a few years. By the end, my brother
sometimes didn't pretend he was asleep while it happened, but he still
would lie down and let me do all the work. We never spoke about it -- I
mean, my little brother and I never talked about how we were having sex,
we certainly never said the word "incest", never worried about whether
it was taboo or not. But we did reach a point where we could talk about
it a little while it was happening.

Eventually he hit puberty. His first few little hairs started growing. I
remember, when there were still so few you could easily count them, I put
one of the longer ones in my mouth, and trimmed it off with my front
teeth. (I have no idea why.) He was anxious about whether his dick would
ever be as big as mine, and I told him it wouldn't. Which was totally
mean, and probably wrong -- I'm pretty sure he eventually became as big
as me.

And then one day I was sucking him off, for what must have been the
hundredth, two hundredth, three hundredth time, and suddenly his eyes
opened wide. "I'm gonna pee!" he said, panicking. I kept sucking, and
wouldn't let him get away from me. (Maybe the idea appealed to me? I had
never thought about it back then. But I was sucking you off right now and
you said that, I absolutely wouldn't stop sucking.)

And then -- and then he came! He came, a few thin little squirts, right
into my mouth.

"You idiot," I said. "You just came." I stuck my tongue out at him,
both to make fun of him and to show him what was left of his cum on my
tongue.

And yeah, that was a pretty shitty thing to say to him at that moment. I
was still clueless. Or thoughtless. (Are those different? I was both.)

It didn't even occur to me at the time how amazing it was that I'd just
swallowed his first cum, how rare and special and wonderful that was, how
grateful I should be. How that taste of a boy's first cum was a gift
very few people get. How I would probably never get another chance to
taste someone's first cum. Nope. I just took it for granted, and acted
like a clueless, thoughtless, bratty older brother.

* * * * *

Weirdly (considering how it all began) that was probably the most selfish
and unkind thing I did to him during the many years we fooled around. So
maybe that was why he stopped pretending to fall asleep. Or maybe it was
because he'd hit puberty, and his sexual needs were changing. He was, it
turned out, straight -- no big surprise, given how uninterested he was in
my cock -- and maybe he wanted to, I don't know, focus on girls.
Imagining his big brother was a girl while he sucked you off, maybe that
didn't cut it for him.

Or maybe he was too self-conscious. Too worried about "gay" stuff.

Or maybe he was bored.

Whatever the reason, that was the last blowjob I gave him. I wouldn't
have sex again for several years. When I did, I confirmed that there's
little in this world that can make me happier than having a cock in my
mouth. But I also started getting into all kinds of other things. All
kinds. What a surprise, I grew up to be kind of a perv.

And I guess that's my big regret -- well, other than how casually cruel
I was that last time. My big regret is that I knew so little, that I had
experienced so little, when I started playing with my little brother. I
wish I had known more stuff to try out with him. I don't know if he ever
would have agreed to explore anal stuff, but I wish someone had shown me
how to make it less threatening. I guess I wish someone had done to me
what I did to my little brother -- but that they knew more about how to
do it than I did, so they could pass that knowledge along. I don't know,
maybe I'm too optimistic here. But I regret that I didn't get to
experience all that when I was my brother's age, and I regret that I
wasn't a more experienced and worldly big brother for him.

I wish I hadn't been so clueless.

And yes, as I mentioned, my brother turned out to be straight, and I
turned out to be gay. We drifted apart as we got older, and I don't see
him much now, but we do see each other every so often. And no, we never
talk about what we did for so many years. He's married, and yes, he has
some kids now. Two boys and a girl. And when the oldest boy started going
through puberty, yeah, I admit, I jerked off a lot imagining my little
nephews getting up to the same sort of hijinks their father and I got up
to. I jerked off a lot wondering if they needed, if they wanted someone
to show them how it's done. Or if they secretly had someone already? And
yeah, sometimes when I hooked up with a guy, I'd imagine my nephews in
the room with us, learning from our example, and getting a little
hands-on training.

But no, I haven't done anything with my nephews.

Look, it's far too risky, OK? I don't know whether they'd want to. And
I am not as clueless as I used to be.

Though sometimes I'm not 100% sure that's a good thing.


----------

Hope you enjoyed the story. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Drop me a
line at boywithflyingfish@gmail.com