Date: Thu, 26 May 2005 03:27:57 -0700 (PDT) From: Robin Eagleson Subject: Oversleeping Part Six By the time his birthday came in the middle of the next week, I had forgotten all about it. I woke up and stumbled blindly into the living room, only to find it decorated in balloons and streamers and a big banner hanging underneath the doorway reading, "Happy 13th Birthday Evan!" My stupid little brother was a teenager. I sauntered into the dining room, where Mom was seated at the table reading the morning paper. She looked older when she wore her reading glasses. It was hard for me to judge anything about her appearance because first and foremost she was just my mom, but considering she had turned forty several months back, I guessed she still looked pretty young for her age. "Oh, it's you," she said, sounding disappointed. She hadn't been very pleased with me ever since I had to tell her about my unfortunate fight. Naturally, I had edited much of the details and turned it into something that had occurred while I was sober (since I always was as far as she knew), but she still hadn't been too thrilled. "I can't remember the last time you got up before Evan," she added, smiling to take off some of the unintended edge of her previous comment. "Go wake your brother up. His breakfast is getting cold." I had to hand it to Mom. No matter what you did the rest of the year, even if you were the worst son in the world, on your birthday you got a heaping plate of pancakes for breakfast. She was always at her nicest on a birthday, too. If ever there was a time she was to be taken advantage of, it was on your birthday. I trudged down the hallway and gently nudged Evan's door open. He was still asleep, alright, and he didn't stir at the sound of his door opening. He was on his back, his head tilted to the side, his bare arms spread out towards the corners of his bed, his mouth open slightly, his chest rising and falling underneath the sheets. I watched him sleep for a second and then crept into his room and raised his shades loudly. He made a startled sound of surprise and bolted up to a sitting position, saw me standing by his window, and then calmed down and threw his body back against the mattress. "I was dreaming," he said in a far away voice. His eyes went back to me. "What are you doing in here? Am I late?" Evan was weird, and didn't have a clock in his room. If he didn't wake up on his own, which he did nine times out of ten, Mom came in and woke him up. "Nope," I said, peering out his window at what appeared to be the start of a very nice day. "It's just after seven. Your breakfast is ready." His eyes lit up at the mention of breakfast. "Pancakes," he nearly drooled. "I can smell them. I'm going to eat ten." "I saw your plate," I said. "If you only eat ten you'll have a couple more stacks to go." "Perfect," he said, his smile widening. "How many presents?" "Three," I lied, trying to scare him. "And a half," I added when he looked doubtful at that number. "Get up and count them yourself, asshole," I laughed, turning away from his window and checking myself out in his mirror. I definitely needed to shower and get my hair fixed; it was setting a new record for terrible currently. "And what are we wearing on our special day?" I teased him, walking over to his closet and dramatically throwing the door open. "Nothing out of here, hopefully," I said, eyeing his shirts. "Sorry kid, I'm the one with the fashion gene in this family, and it can only be found in every other generation. Kind of like baldness." It was hard to imagine Evan ever going bald. "That's not really true, you know," he said defiantly, crossing his arms and getting a superior look on his face. "Baldness is hereditary, but it doesn't go in any particular pattern through the family lineage." "Keep making shit up," I retorted. "One day you might actually fool someone into thinking you know what the hell you're talking about," I said as I threw a bright orange shirt at him. "Could you possibly have more brightly colored shirts? I about had a seizure looking at them all." I closed his closet quickly as if to save myself from losing my vision. "That's a good shirt," he said, leaning over and picking up the shirt I had thrown at him. "I haven't worn this in a while. Good call." He folded it up neatly and jumped out of his bed, landing right in front of me. I glanced over him, once again admiring the way his hair always looked so stylish even after he'd slept on it for a night. He was wearing one of his sleeveless white t-shirts with a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants. "Do you have something to tell me?" he asked, closing the distance between us and peering up into my eyes with a playful smirk on his face. He wasn't the type to go through his birthday without playing it up for all it was worth. "Yeah," I said. "Fuck off." I gave his shoulder a light shove, and as he pretended to fall backwards from the force, he reached out and pulled me to the floor with him. Caught by surprise, I wasn't able to put up much resistance. "Try again," he giggled, wrestling with me to get an advantageous position. I put an intentionally small amount of effort into it, and let him pin me against the ground, his face hovering over mine. "Say it," he ordered me. He was so close I could smell him, and I immediately started to get hard. "Say what?" I asked, not wanting him to get off me. It was taking all my inner strength not to kiss him. We'd been making out a lot lately; at least a few different times every day. Ever since the night we'd slept together, actually. "Say it!" he repeated, louder this time, pressing into me harder. All of a sudden I summoned up my energy and threw him off me, using my scrappy quickness to pounce on his body a second afterwards, effectively turning the tables on him. I smiled victoriously at him as he struggled mightily for a few seconds and then fell limp against the floor, conceding victory. Now he was in his rightful place. "Happy birthday," I whispered finally, breathing the words into his face in a husky tone. He stared up at me almost dreamily, and if Mom had walked by in the hallway to see what was taking so long, she definitely would have known we were doing far more than just wrestling. "Thanks," he whispered back. We stared at each other for what felt like several more minutes before he spoke. "Can you get off me now?" he giggled finally. "You're crushing me with your brute strength." I relented, digging my cock into his soft belly before standing up and disappearing into the bathroom. "Happy Birthday, honey!" I could hear Mom say heartily to Evan as he finally made his appearance in the dining room. I took a quick shower, jacking off over the idea of blowing the birthday boy, styled my hair meticulously, brushed my teeth, and then joined them at the table, where Evan was still at work demolishing the breakfast Mom had made for him. I was just in time to witness Evan burping loudly. He giggled and apologized, but seeing as it was his birthday, didn't even get reprimanded. If I had been the one to burp like that, my execution would have followed swiftly. I also noted that she had conveniently forgiven him for the fight he had gotten into, whereas I was still being held accountable for mine, even though his occurred on school grounds and mine didn't. Today, appropriately enough, was going to be his first day back at school. "Do you have soccer practice after school today, sweetheart?" she asked Evan, and behind my glass of orange juice I rolled my eyes at her sugary sweet tone. Besides, it was a stupid question. He always had soccer practice on Thursdays. Evan nodded as he downed what was probably his third glass of chocolate milk. Mom took it from him, got up to refill it, and turned to me. "Can you get him after school and take him, Austin?" "Yeah," I said amiably enough, waiting to be told not to forget him. But she didn't bring it up this time, instead stirring the chocolate powder into his milk and handing it back to Evan without a word about my lack of reliability. Relieved, I got to work on finishing off my own plate of pancakes, although the stack was much less impressive than the one that had been given to Evan. "You'd better go take a shower before we leave," Mom said to Evan, glancing up at the clock and noting it was half past seven. After swallowing one more large bite of pancake goodness and throwing back another gulp of his precious chocolate milk, he obeyed, giving his collection of presents a lingering look and leaving Mom with an affectionate kiss on the cheek as he shuffled off towards the bathroom. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest teenager in the world?" she asked him. "And the cutest!" Evan called out grinningly as he disappeared down the hallway. "Now Evan," she responded as she got up and cleared his plate for him. "I think both of my teenagers are equally cute." She gave me a smile and this time I didn't try to hide it when I rolled my eyes at her. "Wow," she said as she loaded his plate. "I can't believe how much he ate! He'll be sick." "No," I said, shaking my head in disagreement. "I'm sure he'll be just fine. His body needs syrup for survival like most people need water." It was true. If they bottled syrup and sold it in 12-packs like they did with water, he'd probably be all for it. "Thank you for being so cooperative about picking him up today," she said. "You've been really good to him lately," she added, causing my face to burn slightly. She had no idea just how good I really had been to him this past month. "You have," she insisted, mistaking my embarrassment for scorn. "You don't realize how happy he is just to spend time with you." "Mom," I groaned, growing uncomfortable to the point of shiftiness. "Well, I don't see what the big deal is," she said, finishing with his dishes and vigorously scrubbing the already spotless kitchen counter, her hair bouncing up and down as she worked. Evan's hair was the exact same color and texture as Mom's; blond, thick, and always, always stylish. It was obvious he had gotten it from her. "Why is it such a bad thing to actually get along with your little brother? Especially when it means so much to him." "Mom," I repeated. "It doesn't `mean so much to him'. You're imagining things, and you're being sappy. Stop it." "Am I?" she asked, giving me a knowingly superior look that was difficult to stomach. "He's doing much better in school. He's friends with Nick again for the first time in months. Even the fight he got into the other day wasn't entirely his fault. He didn't start it this time. I guess I could be imagining things as you say, but that wouldn't give me much of an imagination." "Okay, fine," I sighed, swallowing my last bite of pancakes. "I'm the best big brother ever. Do I get an award?" "Sure," she said, walking over to me and planting a kiss on my forehead. "There. Nothing beats a kiss from your mother. Now go to school. I don't want you being tardy anymore this year. Don't forget to pick up Evan afterwards," she added, more out of motherly obligation than anything else, and I wasn't too terribly offended. Even if I had been, she had my backpack stuffed in my hands and was shooing me out the door before I could have said anything anyway. My day was normal. Telling Jessica off was surprisingly easy. She found me early in the day in the hallways, and I wasted no time in telling her I thought it'd be best if we didn't hang out so much anymore. At first her jaw dropped and she appeared stunned, but she recovered quickly and did her best to snub me the rest of the day. I wasn't sure if she believed me or not, but if she didn't, it wouldn't take her long to realize I wasn't joking. It was definitely an interesting experience. I did most of the same things I always did. I sat with the same people at lunch. I talked to the same people in class, aside from Jessica. But my heart truly wasn't into it, and I didn't care if it showed. I had simply come to a point where I was tired of my friends, and even the rapidly coming summer vacation wasn't going to change that. By the time I had thrown myself into the jeep, waving at someone who had waved at me though I didn't bother looking long enough to find out whom, the numbness went away. I was about to get Evan, and that brought me back to life again. I had concluded over the course of the day that I would, in fact, get him a present. I hadn't ever done it before, but then, I'd never really had my own money before. I had a few minutes before his school let out, so I made a quick detour into Wal-Mart and hurried through the congested parking lot, making my way through countless old people who had, over the course of their lengthy lives, forgotten the value of walking fast. My cell phone rang just as I got in the entrance. It was Mom. "Your father and I are both getting held up at work," she said. "We're going to be at least an hour later than we had planned on. Can you stop by the grocery store and pick up Evan's cake, honey?" she asked me, sounding hurried. "Do you want me to get the cake instead of Evan?" I asked, wondering if there had been a change in plans and now suddenly the cake was the number one priority, even if the boy it was for never got picked up so he could eat it. I found my way to the electronics department as we talked. "I don't have time for your snide comments, Austin," she said, probably truthfully. "Get Evan first, drop him off at his practice, and pick up his cake afterwards if you don't mind. I know it's an extra errand, but it would really help us a lot." "Fine," I sighed. "I live to run errands anyway," I said, browsing through the DVD section while debating over whether or not I should get him a movie or a more expensive PS2 game. If I got him a game, he owed me the best blow job ever. "Thank you, sweetie," she said, ignoring my sarcasm. "I have to go. Tell Evan we won't be too late. I love you," she said, hanging up before I could even begin to think about telling her I loved her, too. I supposed I did, even if she was turning me into a full time errand boy. I had made my way over to the games now; no particular movie had caught my eye. Besides, Evan was hard to gauge when it came to movies. He was still a kid in most ways, so anything I appreciated might be a little old for him. However, with games it was a different story. He lived for video games, and almost any kind for that matter. He had been known to play games for days on end, especially ones with sports themes or adventure games where he could put his superior, first grade skipping intellect to work. As soon as I came across "God of War" I knew that was what I was getting him. He would eat it up. He'd intentionally get suspended again so he could spend entire days playing it. Seeing as he was the same kid who had once played Final Fantasy for twenty consecutive hours, it just looked like his kind of game. With a heavy sigh that only spending fifty dollars on someone other than yourself can bring, I picked up the game and went through the express check-out line before I could change my mind. I hurried back to my car and stuffed the bag underneath his seat, trusting the intuition that told me he wasn't always the most observant type about small things like that. Although I was a little late when I arrived at his school, it was convenient picking him up at this time. By the time I pulled up, most of the after school traffic was gone and he was right there waiting for me. I could have spotted him amongst hundreds of middle school children with that damn orange shirt, though. "Do you have any weed?" was the first thing out of his mouth as he bounded in the passenger door and situated himself in the seat. "I used it all the weekend I picked you up at your tournament," I said, giving him an odd look. "Why?" "It was fun that one day," he shrugged. "So it's all gone? You don't have any?" I shook my head. "Damn it," he said, clearly disappointed. "That was going to be one of the highlights of my birthday. I might be able to score some from a dealer in the park, though," he joked with a wide, delicious grin. I was once again overcome with the urge to kiss him. And not just a quick smack on the lips, either. I wanted to grab hold of the sides of his head, lock my mouth onto his, and suck all the saliva off his tongue while he squirmed uncontrollably and gasped for air. I wanted it bad. I wanted him bad. He noticed I was staring at him intently as we pulled out of the parking lot and gave me a quizzical look. I reached over and groped his thigh, tickling the smooth flesh of his knee, just where his khaki shorts had ridden up on his legs. He laughed at the contact. "You're just like Mom," he said. "Well, kind of. I'm pretty sure Mom doesn't want to make sweet love to me like you do, but every time she drives me anywhere she's always patting my leg." "I guess you probably don't want to miss another practice so soon after the last one," I hinted to him, indicating the day he had been forced to miss his practice when I hadn't picked him up. Slowly, I was being overcome by my insatiable lust for him. "I could miss," he said, looking at me skeptically. "It's not that big of a deal. The season's almost over anyway and I'll never be playing for this team again. Why?" "Because I want to make sweet love to you," I answered directly, intentionally using his earlier choice of words with a faint grin. My hand had trailed slowly up his leg and onto his crotch. He had popped a semi within a second, and it was rapidly expanding. "We'd have hours. Mom and Dad are both going to be late getting home," I explained before my mouth went dry in anticipation. "How do you know?" he asked suspiciously. "Mom called. They're both going to be late and I'm supposed to get your cake," I said. "Okay," he hissed as I took his cock in my hand through his shorts. "You convinced me. Drive faster, though." I did. We sped up to as much as twenty over the speed limit as I weaved through lanes with relatively impressive skill, successfully navigating through a minor three o'clock traffic rush. We were fortunate enough not to cross paths with any cops along the way, but the way I felt, even a setback like that couldn't have slowed me down. They'd have to peel me off Evan before they could cuff me anyway. With a modest screech, I pulled the jeep up against the curb in a haphazard manner and threw open my door, running up the lawn right behind Evan, who had been out even faster than I had. I brushed by him when we got to the porch and fumbled with my keys, sorting through them until I came up with the house one and jammed it in the lock, my heart hammering away in my chest. Evan waited patiently behind me while I struggled to unfasten the deadbolt. It wasn't entirely my fault; the lock was old, and sometimes it got caught. Typically it only got caught if you were in a hurry, and I certainly considered myself to be in a hurry now. Still unsuccessful, I angrily kicked at the door and gave it a few degrading insults. "You're so retarded," Evan sighed, pushing me aside and pulling the key out of the lock. "This," Evan said holding the key I had been trying to shove in the deadbolt lock, "goes in the door knob," he concluded for me, calmly sticking it there and turning the lock swiftly. Then he hunted around through the other ones. "I don't understand why you need all these keys," he complained. "This is the deadbolt one, dork," he said when he found it, inserting it into place and swinging the door open. "It's really hard having to think for both of us," he finished with an impish smirk. I opened my mouth to fire something back at him when he took my arm and pulled me inside, his mouth instantly finding mine as I nudged the door closed behind me with my hips. He threw his arms around my neck and had my face doused in his saliva before we were out of the foyer as I was still sliding my backpack off my shoulders. I lifted him up just slightly and he hooked his legs around my back to help me with his weight, and our sloppy kissing continued all the way down the hallway into his room (it was closer than mine). I set him down on the foot of his bed and had my shirt off a second later while he attacked my belt, nearly ripping it from my jeans in the process. The metal clasp clicked and he yanked it off in one tug, tossing it to the ground and tearing open the button at the top of my zipper. If there's one thing you shouldn't do hurriedly, it's undoing a zipper when you've got a raging hard-on, so I pushed him back gently on his elbows and took care of that part myself, sliding out of the jeans and reaching over to pull his shirt over his head, still standing in front of him while he remained seated on his bed. His greedy hands were all over me. He fondled my cock through the opening in the front of my boxers, tugging on it teasingly for a few seconds. He placed a hand of each of my hips and pulled me closer to him, leaning in and kissing my bare stomach just above the pelvic region, right where the waistband of my boxers was. His hands slid behind me and took a firm grip of both of my cheeks through the boxers as he started dabbing at my torso with his tongue. I still hadn't even fully removed his shirt yet; he wouldn't take his hands off me to lift his arms up, so I kept pulling at it unsuccessfully, occasionally running my fingers through his hair while he licked my stomach, which tickled in a slight way but was incredibly erotic. As he buried his tongue in my belly button, he began to slowly work my boxers down my hips until they had slid to the floor. I stepped out of them and eased him back on his bed, crawling on top of him seductively, kissing him lightly and finally getting his shirt all the way off. He sensed it was my turn to explore him a bit, and leaned back comfortably with his hands propping up his head. From my position between his legs, I looked up the length of his body, saw the tent in his shorts, the smoothness of his skinny abdomen, and each arm extended to the side of his head, his silken arm pits painfully standing out. There were a great number of things I wanted to do to him all at once, so I settled with just burying my face in the middle of his legs, feeling his hardness against my face through his shorts. I kissed at him blindly as I reached up to his stomach and undid the button, slowly easing them down his legs and around his ankles. The boxers revealed much more of him than his shorts had, and I admired the extra flesh that was now visible, running my hands along his thighs and marveling at the creamy texture. I planted probably a dozen kisses over the edible skin, running my tongue in trails across his tan lines. His calves and lower legs were already golden from soccer, but the slightly more fleshy upper thighs were cool and pale, almost like porcelain. I loved both areas equally, and thus gave them equal attention with my mouth. I gave his boxers a gentle pull and he lifted his hips off the bed so I could ease them down his legs. As soon as he was naked I sat back and looked him up and down, really studying his nakedness for the first time. It was so overwhelmingly beautiful, my breathing halted momentarily as I took him all in with my eyes. He had wasted no time in reaching down and playing with his cock, and after I'd spent several seconds just staring at him, he laughed. "Did you just wanna watch me jack off or were you planning on doing something?" he finally asked, and I smiled sheepishly and slid back up to his face, kissing him briskly on the lips and then licking his throat. He arched his neck and extended his tongue out to my ear. His teeth took a gentle hold of the lobe and he tugged on it lovingly. Then he got excited and started wildly licking the side of my face, and anything he could reach. I turned my head and battled his tongue with mine, instinctively pinning him against the mattress with all my weight. He didn't seem to mind. His hands dug into the sides of my head and he continued to kiss me fervently, grinding his cock up into mine. We wrestled against each other, breathing loudly and panting at the effort. I had been on top of him for a while now, and I figured he was ready for his turn when he started clawing at my back and pushing against me in a frenzied manner. I obliged him and rolled over. He smoothly climbed on top of me with a seamless transition, his hair pressing against my nose as he kissed my chest excitedly. His mouth was all over me in a passionate array of kisses, and after leaving wet trails all over my chest and stomach he had found himself staring right at my cock, which I couldn't help but gasp when he attacked. It was obvious he wasn't interested in getting me off; he had a foreplay mindset right now. He only licked and kissed the tip, refraining from wrapping his lips around it. I writhed all over the bed when he continued to run his tongue up and down the back of the tip where the slit was. I hardly ever oozed before an orgasm, but he had teased me so thoroughly I was dripping plenty now. "Do not cum," he warned me with dead seriousness. "If you're getting too close, tell me." He began to lick the premature sperm off the head after his warning, pressing his head harder into my crotch and almost taking it into his mouth before pulling back and focusing on my balls instead. They were drawn tight and ready to explode, and he stuffed them in his mouth and tasted them thoroughly. His nose slipped down farther and he kissed my crack daintily. He hadn't gone anywhere near that area since the first time he'd done it, so I'd assumed that wasn't really his thing. I must have been wrong, however, because after the first few hesitant kisses he got really into it and pressed his entire face into my crack and kissed the lips of my anus just as he would the lips on my mouth. I felt a wetness part the cheeks and realized he was trying to slide his tongue all the way in. He hadn't gotten that far the last time. As he lapped away at my hole in an increasingly enthusiastic manner, I had never in my life wanted to jack off as bad as I did now. He pulled way from me just as I couldn't stand it any longer, and then his face was against mine and his tongue was in my mouth. He kissed me softly and then pulled back slightly, grinning. His tongue extended out of his mouth and pointed at me expectantly. Knowing his intention, I clamped it firmly between my lips and sucked it dry, somehow incredibly turned on about the idea of rimming myself. "Can I put my dick in it?" he asked in between our wet kissing, which had taken on an even more intense level now. "Fuck no," I said. "I'm not taking a cock up the ass." "It's my birthday," he smiled, licking at the string of saliva that had lingered from the last time our lips peeled apart. "You didn't get me a present, did you?" "Like I have any money," I responded defensively, playing it off like I hadn't gotten him anything so his surprise would be genuine later on. I wrapped my arms around him and cupped his ass as I talked. "This is kind of an odd time to put me through a guilt trip." "It's not a guilt trip," he said, kissing both of my eyes and my nose as I tightened my grip around his cheeks. They were so smooth, so firm. "I'm just telling you this could be your present to me." "Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "Letting you ram your cock inside of me and fill my ass with your cum. What a gift." "Okay," he shrugged. "Then you do me." He stared right at me, the passion in his eyes burning a hole into my face. "I don't think I'd fit," I said lamely, my voice coming out in a feeble, meek sounding tremble. Well, according to Jessica I was big, anyway. "You'll fit," he said, sounding extremely confident and determined. "Reach under my bed and get the lotion." "What the fuck?" I asked. "You keep lotion under your bed?" "Yeah," he giggled. "I like jacking off to be a slippery experience." "I'm not going to penetrate you, Evan," I argued, feeling as though I'd already lost. "You are," he said with conviction, proving my point. "And you're going to like it. You're going to squeal and go ape shit and fuck me harder than you ever fucked that Jessica bitch." I stared at him with my mouth open. "I think you've been watching too much porn on your computer," I stuttered, surprised to hear him talk like that. "And how the hell do you know anything about Jessica?" I started to sit up, kind of angry. He pushed me back. "You keep your cell phone in the bathroom when it's charging," he explained. "I've seen all the text messages you get from her. It doesn't bother me, really. But if you can do her, you can do me." "You're so fucking nosy," I protested, unable to keep from being irritated at him for invading my privacy. "Not that you even know if I had sex with her or not," I added, but too late to be convincing. He grinned, seeing right through me. "It doesn't matter," he said, kissing my chest again, and then leaning over the side of the bed and reaching underneath it until he had found the lotion. "I've used it on myself a little," he said, still trying to persuade me. "After the night you put your finger up my butt, I was curious. I've gotten pretty good. You'll fit," he repeated. He started kissing down my stomach, and then kissed my tangled blond pubes when he reached them. My cock had subsided slightly during our break in action, but now it was ready again, and when he grabbed a hold of it with his fist I tensed up and let out a sharp hiss. "Trust me," he said, looking back up at me, beginning to jack me off as I closed my eyes and leaned back against his headboard. Then he was spreading the lotion on my cock, the cool gooey sensation strangely erotic. I had actually never used lotion when I jacked off before, and as he pumped my cock with his fist to spread out the lotion, I found myself at the mercy of his hand as it worked up and down on my shaft. If he went much longer like this I wasn't going to be hard anymore. "Trust me," he said again, almost whispering now, and then he was sitting on me. My eyes sprang open as I felt his backside rest against my freshly lubed cock. He spent a minute shifting around, trying to settle on the right area, and then slowly backed into me. I could feel my dick sliding around against his crack. He was rubbing the head against his crack on purpose, getting some of the lube on him. Just as I realized it wasn't too late to put a stop to it, he sat back on me and I could feel my dick slowly push inside of him. Now it was too late. He grunted slightly as the head worked its way in. I was frozen now. The sensation of having my cock slowly enter his ass was really weird, but not altogether unpleasant. I found myself thinking about Jessica and how she had taken charge that night, effortlessly settling herself on it and taking the whole length in with relative ease. This was a much tighter fit, and I hadn't even gotten in halfway yet. "Just a little more," he groaned, more to himself than me. I could feel his hole clenching my cock in protest as he fought against it, trying to squeeze it in while it was still freshly lubed. "You're a little thicker than my finger," he admitted, squirming as I entered him an inch at a time. The thickest part of it was in now, and as soon as his hole had accommodated that, the remainder slid right in. His cheeks were now pressing against my skin. "Is that the hard part?" I asked, still unsure how this had happened. He ignored me, as he pulled himself up ever so slightly and descended back down gingerly, trying to get used to my dick being stuffed in his ass. It had to feel pretty strange, but he didn't seem to be in an inordinate amount of pain. He turned to look at me, a smile on his face. "Are you just gonna sit there?" he asked, beginning to slowly bounce up and down on me. "What am I supposed to do?" I responded testily as his ass began to squeeze my cock and test my endurance. "It feels like I'm never going to get my dick back," I complained. "Fucking move a little," he urged me. "Let the lube do its thing." I hesitantly pushed against his body, and he groaned at the thrust and pushed back. "Better," he said, groaning a second time as I repeated my efforts. "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow," he giggled. My cock was sliding around with a little more ease already, and I sat up a little. I started to hump him with a little more consistency, and he was now grunting continuously. His hands, resting on my legs, squeezed me as hard as he could. My hormones were finally beginning to kick in and the process was becoming much more natural. I was no longer thinking of the act itself as much as the pleasure it was giving me, and from the sounds of it, him as well. He was stroking himself while I thrust my hips up into him, and once I got a good rhythm going, I reached out to help him. He had his head tilted up the ceiling and his mouth open. The noises were less constant now, and when he did make any, they came out as squeaks. We had settled in a nice groove together, and now what we were doing was legitimately sex instead of just him sitting awkwardly on my cock. I was jacking him off harder than I had intended to, and his bouncing got quicker. I sat up a little more and nibbled on his shoulder from behind. His ass was squeezing my cock so hard now it was only a matter of time before I exploded inside of him, and I bit down on his back even harder. I don't think he even felt it. With a sudden shudder, I felt his cock twitch in my hand and I knew it was all over for him. I gripped it tightly and continued to jack him off as it gave several violent spasms in my hand and sprayed one of the biggest loads I'd ever seen from it. He pressed himself all the way into me and brought his head back up sharply, giving me a mouthful of his hair. I think he was trying to make a noise, but instead all he did was whimper, and his anus was now closing in around my cock with maddening spasms of its own. He bounced on it a few times, and then when his hole clenched up one more time, I finally lost it and shot into his ass. He was still oozing cum as I emptied my enormous load into him, and he was still leaning his entire weight against me. When I finally was able to see clearly again, I looked at his shoulder and saw the marks my teeth had left in it, along with a trail of saliva. I kissed it off him and rubbed the red spot gingerly, wishing I hadn't bitten down so hard in my passion. We didn't move or speak for several minutes. Eventually I dropped back to a lying position and caught my breath as he fell back against me. I draped my arms across his chest and squeezed him tightly, my cock softening and trying to escape from the confines of his ass. He finally slid off me and it popped out with a small amount of pain. "I told you it would fit," he panted, kissing me on the lips and collapsing on my chest, his sweaty, tangled hair falling in my face. "You were right," I admitted, kissing his wet hair. "You're always fucking right." I had one arm wrapped around him from the side now, and he cuddled up against me. "I still expect a blow job tonight," he said into my ear, kissing it afterwards. "A good one. You have to eat all my cum." "With the mess you just made," I laughed tiredly, "I'll be surprised if I have very much to worry about." We lay there in silence for what might been have anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour, and I would have been content to stay there forever. The feel of his soft skin pressed against me like that was wonderful. "I have to go pick up your cake," I said in his ear. He jumped at the sound of my voice, apparently having dozed off. "Nope," he answered sleepily. "Afraid not. I'm not letting you leave," he said, squeezing me tightly. "I'm serious," I said. "Mom is going to tear into me if I don't have the cake when she gets back." "Then I'm coming with you," he said sitting up and looking at me as if waiting for an argument. "Then come," I smiled, not really wanting to leave him behind anyway. "But you should probably take a shower first." "So should you," he grinned. He took my hand and pulled me along to the bathroom. I had intended for the shower to be a fairly business like affair, but as soon as we started kissing again in the doorway all those thoughts left my mind. "God," he groaned tugging at my cock as he pressed the door shut behind us. "Now I'm hard again." As if that wasn't obvious. "I'll take my blow job now if you don't mind." "I'll blow you when I'm damn good and ready," I retorted, watching out reflections in the mirror as we kissed again. It was weird actually seeing me kiss my brother, even though I'd done it more times than I could count by now. I pulled away from him, leaned over and turned on the shower. "Fuck the shower," he said, bending into me from behind so his cock was poking my ass. "Let's take a bath. Warm it up for me. I have to piss." "As long as you don't flush it this time," I said with a grin, waiting for the water to warm up and then flicking the drain switch so the tub would fill up. I gingerly stepped inside while I watched him stand over the toilet and shake his cock. "I felt that little tingle when you turned on the water," he explained. "But I can't go when it's hard." "How do you ever get your cock to go down so you can piss?" I asked, amused at the seemingly constant erection he had. "When I stop thinking about you it goes down," he grinned, blowing me a kiss. Sitting in the tub as the water slowly filled it, I flipped him off. Finally, he shook it hard enough to convince it to shrink, and he let out a feeble stream into the toilet that went on for a long while. "It's coming out so slow!" he whined. "It's like pissing in slow motion." Mercifully, he finished, shaking the last drops off and closing the seat, reaching over to push the handle down before remembering and yanking his hand back as if the toilet was very hot. He gave me a cute grin and then stepped over the side of the tub, slowly settling in and resting himself right in front of me, his back pressing against my chest. I squeezed his skinny shoulders from behind and massaged his skin in a soothing circular manner. "I want to do something this weekend," he said, leaning his head back into me. "Star Wars is out now. Will you take me?" I continued to massage his back, kneading his supple skin and enjoying the closeness of our bodies. As much as I liked the sexual components, I got quite a bit more out of all the cuddling than I'd ever admit. "Maybe," I said cryptically, kissing the back of his head. I reached into the water and brought my hands back up to his hair, running them through it and soaking it, rinsing out the oil and sweat. "Then again, I might call Jessica and go with her instead." "I'm hotter," he said in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone that cracked me up. I reached over and squeezed a glob of shampoo out of the bottle and spread it in my palms, applying it to his hair and slowly scrubbing his scalp. He leaned back against me all the way, his feet pressing against the front of the tub and his body effectively reclining against me. I was working my fingers along his scalp vigorously; it wasn't easy getting to it through all the hair. It made me glad I kept my hair shorter. "You haven't even seen her," I shot back, continuing to scrub his abundance of hair. "Doesn't matter," he said stubbornly. "I know you like me more. I'll let you have more popcorn this time," he teasingly persuaded me. "Unless we get high first again. Then I'm eating all of it like I did last time." "I don't plan on smoking again anytime soon," I said, rinsing my hands off in the water and pulling away from him to grab the cup that had been sitting in the corner of the shower forever and never got used. I put it under the water, tilted his head back, and dumped it over his hair. "But we can go if I'm not doing something else." "I thought you said you weren't going to go out for a while," he responded, sounding disappointed, shaking his head to clear the dripping wet hair that had fallen into his eyes. "I said I wasn't going to Kenny's for a while," I said. "I don't know about not going out at all." "That's not what you said last weekend," he pouted. "Quit acting like you're my boyfriend," I blurted, as it was the first thing that popped into my head regarding the way he was acting. "We'll go if something doesn't come up," I mumbled, soaping up his shoulders and back now just to keep my hands busy. "I'm not acting like your boyfriend," he said, squirming slightly as I reached around and rubbed my soap covered hands all over his chest, ribs, and down his stomach. "I like hanging out with you more than the sex." "How romantic," I said, pretending to let out an overwhelmed sigh. "I'm serious," he insisted, pressing back against me as my hand reached his crotch and began to fondle his dick. I was only meaning to wash it, but my actions were not completely innocent. "Just because I'm always horny doesn't mean I can't enjoy the other stuff, too." I cupped his smallish balls and squeezed them lightly, saying nothing. He had forced his head underneath my chin and was pushing against it now, fighting against the pleasure of having my slippery hands gliding across his cock. While I stroked him, he repositioned his butt and pinned my dick against my stomach, resting snugly against his crack at a parallel angle. Whenever he squirmed now, his wet, smooth skin rubbed directly against my dick and sent incredible jolts through me. "I think you like this quite a bit, too," I said, nearly ready to throw all other considerations to the side and finish off the second round we'd eased our way into inadvertently. "True," he acknowledged, reaching behind him blindly and pinching my nipple roughly, which I responded to by slapping his hand away instinctively. "I admit I'm always horny, but hanging out with you is really fun, too." "Since when?" I asked, returning the pinch he'd just given me. He moaned and grabbed my arm, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it sweetly. "You never said anything the other twelve years of your life." He put my index finger in his mouth and sucked on it lightly. "What was I supposed to say?" he asked, taking the finger out of his mouth and returning it to his nipple. "Austin, I know you hate me, but I really would like to spend more time with you so we can bond because you're such a cool big brother?" I had stopped the washing pretense now, and was full out jacking him off now instead. His excitement grew, and he brought my arm back to his mouth and nibbled on it. His need to keep his mouth busy at all times was somewhat disconcerting, but at least he had stopped making my lips bleed when we kissed lately. "If I ever do try and have a serious conversation with you, you just get mad anyway," he squeaked, as my pace was picking up and his heartbeat increased with it. "Fuck!" he moaned immediately afterwards, almost cutting himself off. He had reached the point of no longer being able to express himself without using expletives. "I know this is the second orgasm," he forced out in a growl and as he clenched his teeth, "but you're still blowing me tonight. Oh, fuck." My hand continued to pump furiously on his cock until it was overcome with violent spasms for the second time of the afternoon. I watched him cum, which was kind of cool because his cock was protruding from the water, but his semen shot up and then splashed into it. There was more than I thought there'd be. I slowly ran my hand up and down his dick twice, squeezing the last drops out of him, and then bringing my fingers up to my mouth to taste. Evan turned to face me afterwards, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly with his breathing. "It's your turn now," he said, splashing me directly in the face and pushing me all the way to the back wall of the tub, settling on top of me and attacking my hair with his wet hands. "Close your eyes," he cautioned, grabbing the shampoo and dumping it straight on my head. He giggled at his unorthodox method and then attacked, his hands working into my scalp with an insane vigor. Some of the shampoo bubbles had slid down my face due to his messiness, and he brushed it away in a surprisingly gentle manner. He made up for it by hitting me full force with the cup of water to rinse the shampoo out rather than dumping it on like I had done to him. I had to shake my head back and forth as a dog would to dry itself just to clear the water away. "Arms up," he said, pulling his lips away from my chest and tonguing my arm pits. I could feel his breath against me as he pressed his head against my right pit and inhaled the scent. He giggled when he saw me watching him. "I know I'm weird," he said, burying his face in it again, "but I like making out with your pits." After kissing it softly an extra several times, he kept his face close, studying it intently. He reached out and pulled on the hair, eliciting a screech from me. "Sorry," he said. "They're just so light." "It'll still fucking hair!" I complained, tugging on a lock of hair on his head quickly to emphasize my point. Except for the light sprinkling at his crotch, he didn't have it anywhere else, so my options for getting him back were limited. He finally used the soap on my arm pits instead of his mouth, and then kneaded my chest and ran his hands across my stomach. He reached his hand underneath the water and took a hold of my cock, which nearly burst at the contact alone, and stroked it for a few minutes, his eyes burning into me. "Are we clean?" he asked, never taking his eyes off of me as he ran his soapy hand up and down my shaft. "Because if you're ready, we should probably go." "Yeah, we can go," I said, standing up to get out of the tub. I paused and looked down at him from my position. My dick was right in front of his nose, practically poking it. "I'll do it if you want," he said simply, extending his tongue slowly out of his mouth until it barely touched the tip. I tensed and closed my eyes, trying to keep my balance. "We should get your cake first," I said through gritted teeth, as his lips had closed ever so slightly around the head; he was putting no pressure on it, however. "It's only fair," he whispered, seeming mesmerized by how close he was to it. "We should get the cake first," I repeated, closing my eyes again as I felt his lips return to the tip. "We'll have more time afterwards." His breath on my wet pubes was cold. The air hitting the water that was dripping off me was causing me to shake, but I couldn't move. My teeth chattering, I hugged myself and waited for him to get up so we could dry off and leave. Instead he reached back and got a firm grip of my ass, shoving his head into my crotch and swallowing the entire length in one slurp, grunting as it filled his mouth. Once he'd done this, I was helpless to argue, so I just grabbed his hair lightly and swayed my hips to the movement of his head. His lips glided effortlessly up and down my shaft for close to a minute, and when I was seconds away from losing it, he pulled off and dabbed at it with his tongue, taking it into his hand and jacking it while he pressed his face eagerly into my balls, his lips smacking against them, his breathing muffled and almost frantic. His tongue flicked out and teased the slit while he continued to hold it in his hand, and as I threw my head back and prepared to shoot, his lips had settled around it again and he'd stuffed it all the way back in his mouth. The fact that I'd just shot in his ass of all places less than an hour ago seemed completely irrelevant. My orgasm was incredibly intense, just as it always was when Evan blew me, and my load was a sizeable, explosive one. He bailed out on it quick and took a few hot jets to his face, opening his mouth and trying to swallow the additional spraying. I looked down at him and saw his eyes were pointed upwards at me as he gently sucked the rest of the cum off my cock, the slurping noises especially audible in the bathroom as it seemed to bounce off the linoleum floor. He let my cock drop out of his mouth, licked the length of it from top to bottom twice, and then got to his feet and stood in front of me. "I couldn't help it," he said impishly, smiling sheepishly, almost shyly. "I'm glad you overslept that one morning," he whispered into my ear seductively. Completely drained of all my energy, all I could manage to do was pull him against me and give him a feeble hug. I lovingly dried off every wet spot on his body, including his hair, which took five minutes of vigorous scrubbing with the towel to thoroughly dry. I watched him in the mirror as he dressed behind me while I put on my deodorant, and after a second of consideration, some cologne too. When he caught my eyes in the mirror, he grinned and posed for me, zipping up his shorts and approaching me from behind, standing next to me in the mirror as we looked at our reflections. "You want to try some?" I asked, holding out the cologne to him. "Sure," he shrugged. "I used the rest of the other kind you had." He took it from me and dumped it into his palms, rubbing it around and then slapping daintily at his neck. He again caught me admiring him in the mirror, and he smiled as he put on his shirt. "You're pretty hot, too," he said flirtatiously. "I'll be in the living room when you get done staring at yourself." I watched him slink away from me into the hallway, his casual flip-flops making appropriate sounds as he disappeared from sight, an inexplicable longing sensation creeping up into my chest. I worked my hair into a fashionable state, grabbed my keys, and headed for the front door. He was in the dining room, shaking his presents and holding them up to his ear, the widest of grins on his face. "Not all of these are clothes," he remarked excitedly. "This one's heavy. It better be my bowling ball." Evan was actually a really good bowler; he was way better than most of the kids his age in the league he played in. Reluctantly, he left his stack of presents and followed me out the door, singing a tune under his breath as we got back in the jeep. I couldn't tell what the song was, but I recognized it. "I can't believe you smoked the rest of the weed," he said as soon as I had the car started, unable to let it go. "I told you I wanted to do it again some time." "Give me fifty bucks and I'll buy you some more," I said dryly. "It's expensive. I paid for it, so I smoked it." "Are you sure you don't have more hidden somewhere?" he asked, opening the glove compartment and rooting through it thoroughly. "Just a lot of pens, paper, lighters, and this condom," he observed sadly, holding up the condom in its package with a big grin on his face. I kept it there just in case I ever got lucky in the car. My face burned at him discovering it. "Put it back, dork," I said. "When you're as much of a stud as I am, you never know when you might need it." He ignored me and tossed it back in the mess, slamming the door shut. "It doesn't matter if you find any weed, anyway. I threw the bowl out, too, so there's nothing to smoke it with." "I could always eat it," he shrugged, not giving up. "How do you know you don't have any more? Your jeep's a mess. There could be anything in here." He flipped around backwards and examined the back seat, found nothing, and then, right when I remembered I had left it there, reached down and felt underneath his seat. It was an understandable place to look, I guess. After all, the time we had smoked, the bag had been underneath my seat. Common sense would tell him that maybe it was worth checking under his. I just don't know why he had to check there on today of all days, when most of the time he paid so little attention to my jeep he probably couldn't have told you what color it was. "Hey," he said when I quickly reached down and pulled his hand away before he could find the bag. "You do have some down there, don't you? I knew you were full of shit. I won't smoke it all, calm down," he assured me, reaching back down again. I heard the sound of rustling plastic as his hand made contact with the Wal-Mart bag, and knew my surprise was about blown. I dove across him and made a grab for his hand again, and he giggled and fought it off, thinking it was all a game. Neither one of us saw the red light we failed to stop for, or the red F-250 that barreled into the passenger side of the jeep. There was only what was possibly the loudest screech of tires on pavement I've ever heard followed by a second of wild terror and a forceful collision, and nothing else. The only thing I can remember clearly the moment the truck hit us is that I knew what song Evan had been singing quietly underneath his breath as we went outside. It was "Last Kiss". It's ironic how I managed to drive safely all those times when I left Kenny's fully inebriated. It's ironic how I'd been driving recklessly on the way home from getting him at school, in a hurry to taste him, and made it unscathed. It was ironic that the first accident of my life came when I was trying to keep Evan from discovering a birthday present he wasn't supposed to get until later. And it's ironic that I succeeded in keeping him from finding out about his present prematurely. Instead, he never found out about it at all. The entire incident is hazy to me. Not because I was injured; the damage had been done exclusively to the passenger side of the jeep, and the impact was marginal where I sat. I remembered only unbuckling my seatbelt in a daze, somehow still alive, and stumbling out of the car into the road, instantly sitting on the curb and throwing up. I remembered not being able to recall either Mom or Dad's phone number when asked for it, or being able to explain anything other than that it was my brother's thirteenth birthday and I had been trying to keep him from finding his present, taking my eyes off the road for all of five seconds. Later, though, I would think of everything. I would think of the presents sitting at the dining room table that remained for a week afterwards because no one could summon up the strength to move them. I would think of the cake he'd never gotten to eat. I would think of the game I'd never gotten to give him. I would think of the bright orange shirt he had worn on the day, and would never wear again. I would think of his golden blond hair, and how it always fell in his eyes at the slightest movement and stayed there until he would reach over and brush it aside. I would think about how I had never once told my brother I loved him; not in any memory of any point in my life. Sitting in his room and staring blankly at the wall for hours, I would think of all these things. I would think of all these things, and think of nothing else. For days I couldn't sleep. If I slept, I might dream, and I didn't want to dream about him. It was enough to lie awake in my bed, the moon peeking through the crooked row in my blinds as I ached for him with more intensity than I had ever known in my life. It was enough to remember him silently sneaking into my room, a pair of blue boxers and a white t-shirt on, sliding gracefully into my bed. It was enough to think about him while I was awake. I couldn't bear the thought of dreaming about him, too. I thought my heart might burst if he came alive in my dreams, too. Not sleeping has its drawbacks though, and after a while I couldn't fight it off anymore. I went to sleep every night wishing that when I woke up and opened my eyes in the morning, I would be thirty minutes late for school and the whole thing would have been one long dream. If only oversleeping could be my biggest concern when I woke up in the morning, instead of wondering if I could make it through yet another day without him. I went into his room often. Not for any particular reason, really. Just to look at his bed and picture him wrapped up in the covers. Just to touch his clothes and imagine what he might feel like if he were in them. Just to look at all the chords he had behind his TV and hear him warn me not to mess them up. I had to smile when I realized I was crying over a bunch of plugs and outlets. The hardest part for me was knowing I was so responsible. Responsible for everything. Responsible that he was even with me in the car in the first place, instead of safe at his soccer practice, running around aimlessly on the field, taunting his teammates and glowing inside over the mound of gifts that awaited him on the table at home. Responsible for looking away from the road just to keep my present to him a secret. Responsible for initiating a sexual relationship with him that had indirectly caused the events to unfold as they had. Every day when I woke up and had to face the fact that it hadn't all been a dream, I hoped he wouldn't blame me for being such a distant figure to him most of his life. I missed everything about him, including all the obnoxious comments he would make. If he could only sense how god damn much I missed him, maybe he wouldn't blame me. He would know that no matter what our relationship had been like over the years, I missed him deeply and would give anything to have him back. Most importantly, though, I just wish I could have told him that it wasn't just him that got more out of spending time together than having sex with each other. Because even though that might have been what brought us together in the first place, it had taken something far more powerful to bring us closer than we had previously been his whole life. I hoped he wouldn't blame me for taking so long to realize how lucky I was to have him as my little brother. Sometimes we all wait too long to make the most of our opportunities. Sometimes we all oversleep a little. <>