Date: Wed, 14 Dec 2016 11:14:58 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The 12 Tales Of Christmas: Most Improved

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/135285549975/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

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*****

"Seriously, dude, quit being so fuckin' thirsty," I thought to myself, but
it was no good.

As soon as Brady walked in the door, I couldn't keep my eyes off him for
more than a couple of minutes. He looked good. Well, he'd always looked
good, but he looked even better now. Like his body had gone up a level, or
something. Even in a sweater and jeans, you could see how much bigger he'd
gotten. I knew he was probably putting in a ton of time in the campus gym,
and it sure showed. Broad, rounded shoulders... strong traps... the
definite swell of even thicker, juicier pecs... muscular thighs stretching
the legs of his jeans... and of course, his ass. Fuck, his ass. If I was
more poetical, I'd write sonnets about his tight, round, muscle-packed
tail. He still carried himself like the all-star wrestler he'd been back in
high school, with a little of that swagger that was one part
self-confidence and attitude, and one part the physical goods to back it
up.

Me, I wasn't bad on the mats myself, but I hadn't been able to level-up
physically like he seemed to do effortlessly. Not yet, anyway. He was my
idol in just about everything, and I wanted so bad to be like him. I was
trying to eat right, trying to lift bigger and harder and longer. It was
starting to pay off, but I was still kind of a pale imitation of my big
brother.

Except in one thing. In one area, I had him beat for sure. I was hoping
that he remembered that, and that once all the family well-wishing and
welcome-homes and backslaps and shit died down, that he'd come looking for
it. I knew he remembered pretty well how good I was at it, but just like my
workouts and wrestling training, I'd been focused intensely on getting
much, much better at it.

Mom had made him his favorite food, lasagna, for his coming-home dinner -
like he'd been at war or something, not at Penn for like four months - and
sitting across the table from him was really hard. I sucked at making
conversation that night, but it was cool, I could let him and the folks
fill the void, while I tried not to stare at his thick, hairy forearms
beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater. Tried not to blush like a
little schoolgirl when he shot me the occasional smile. And definitely
tried to control my raging cock whenever his knee brushed mine under the
table. Accidentally at first, I guess, but by the second or third time, I
knew we were probably in business. And at last, I smiled. Felt my insides
get all knotted up with a different kind of tension - anticipation.

After dessert, he stretched and yawned, his sweater pulling tight across
the big plates of his pecs, little stiff peaks where his nips were standing
proud. He patted his not-at-all swollen belly with a contented sigh, then
winked across the table at me.

"Think I'm gonna go shower up and put my stuff away," he said. "You wanna
come keep me company, Matty? Catch me up on what's been goin' on with you,
bro?"

"Uh, sure," I said, trying to come off all cool and casual.

Mom and Dad beamed at us both, so proud of their boys for getting along so
well. If they only knew.

I forced myself to give him a head start, helping Mom load the dishwasher,
before she shooed me away, telling me to go spend time with my
brother. Well alrighty, if you insist, I thought to myself, grinning, and
cleared the steps three at a time.

The connecting doors to the bathroom between our bedrooms were
open. Brady's bedside lamp was on, casting low light across his bed. I
could hear him shuffling around, closing drawers. I sucked in a deep,
steadying breath, and stepped through our bathroom and into his room.

"Hey, fucker," he said with that easy, panty-dropping grin of his. "Glad to
see you, kid."

"Glad to see you too, dude," I said, smiling but feeling a little shy all
of a sudden.

"Well come on in and let's chill, bro," he grinned. "And maybe close the
door behind you," he followed, after a beat.

When the door clicked behind me, I knew exactly where this was going. Where
I'd been hoping it would go, as soon as I found out when he'd be home for
the Christmas break. My cock was already starting to tingle inside my
underwear, and as we bullshitted about ordinary stuff, it was beginning to
grow steadily inside the confines of my briefs. Even more when Brady
finally sat down, big thighs spread casually, leaning back on his hands on
the bed. I could see the big-ass bulge in his jeans, and made myself try
not to stare at it. But I had to look, just to check, because c'mon - it
was a nice bulge. Prominent, very full.

"So I talked to Coach P. the other day," he said casually. "He says you're
really putting in the work this semester. `Wrestling his little ass off' is
what he actually said."

He chuckled, and I blushed but went along with him.

"I didn't know you and Coach were still talking," I said, my head full of
questions.

"Sure," Brady shrugged. "He helped me out a lot, back then. I like to check
in with him. It's cool to think of him as, like... a friend."

Damn, his smile was infuriating. All mysterious. Like he always knew
something he might share with you, that you'd really like to know, but he
wasn't sure yet if he wanted to. It didn't help that I'd jacked off
imagining a super dirty scenario involving him and Coach P. after practice,
many times. Sometimes featuring me. But not always. And now I wanted to
know just how tight the two of them were in real life. But that was a
question for later, I hoped.

"Yeah, he says you're the Most Improved of the whole squad," he went
on. "Really kicking ass. Doing me proud, right bro?"

"Ha, I guess," I said, shrugging and chuckling weakly.

"Attaboy," he grinned, giving me another wink. Shifted his ass on the bed a
little, spreading his thighs a little more, real subtly. Toed off his
sneakers. He was toying with me a little now, making me go quietly nuts. I
hated it, but I loved it too. It was part of the thing between us. Part of
who he was. And I liked it. I'd been starting to ask myself more and more
lately what that meant, what it said about me - but now, tonight, here,
that shit didn't matter. It was just him and me and months apart coming to
an end. That was everything, right now.

"I've... been putting in a lot of practice, bro," I said, finding my
voice. "Getting better. At a lot of stuff."

"Oh yeah?" he said, eyebrow cocked with amusement. "Such as?"

A long moment passed while I tried to figure out how to say it, and then I
decided fuck it, stepped over closer to his bed, and dropped to my knees
between his. He grinned at me, looking me deep in the eyes. Another long
moment, while he waited for me to show myself. So I reached up all
tentatively, then laid my hands on his knees. He gave me the slightest nod,
and I started to rub up and down the tight denim stretched over his
thighs. Real slowly, starting small, feeling the warmth and strength of his
powerful legs inside his jeans. Getting reacquainted with them.

"I missed you, little bro," he said, all quiet and a little
husky. "Especially after last summer. You miss me?"

"Fuck yeah," I half-whispered, and he chuckled low and deep. Then he lifted
his sweater off, the T-shirt under it packed tight with the bigger, harder
muscles he'd been building up all semester long. Then he slowly unbuckled
his belt, followed by the slow, deliberate pop-pop-pop-pop of the buttons
of his 501s.

"Good," he murmured, reaching forward with one hand to tousle my short
hair. "So why don't you show me, brother?"

His bulge was growing, white cotton stretched tight and full of his big,
thick cock, pushing slowly up out of his fly. He pushed down one flap of
his unbuttoned jeans to give it room to grow, and it sure as shit did,
pushing thick and hard across his hip, one hell of a bulge made by one
incredible cock. I felt a jet of warm spit in my mouth - he was literally
mouth-watering - and I didn't need his hand to guide my head forward and
in, down, up close, to inhale his musky scent, and then press my face to
the hot, stretched mound of white fabric encasing him. But I let him keep
his hand on the back of my head anyway, to show him how into this, and him,
I was.

"Fuck yeah, Matty," he grunted as my lips pressed to the stalk of his cock
through the cotton, then moved up and down. I kept stroking his big thighs
as I did, loving on his whole lower body, as the scent from his crotch
started to fill my nose and mouth. Rich and deep and exactly like I
remembered it. Clean, but natural. He'd been driving for hours, so he was
pleasantly manly-smelling, and when he lifted his hips to push his jeans
further down, I grabbed hold of his upper thighs and started to lick and
kiss his big bulge in earnest, as he softly moaned to me.

I heard the soft sound of his T-shirt coming off, then hitting the floor
behind me, as he kicked his jeans off his feet, and then he was pretty much
all mine. Big and amazing-looking, even hotter than he'd been last summer,
when I'd spent like nearly half of the break with either my hands or my
mouth wrapped round his fucking dick, learning how to suck cock, how to
please a man. How to please my big bro, in particular.

We had the whole holidays to draw it out if we wanted, and I'd been eager
as fuck to get at him all day long, so I decided not to waste any more
time. Grabbed the waistband of his undies and yanked them down, letting
that big, proud jock dick of his snap free, already shiny at the tip with
pent-up pre. I licked my lips and made a hungry noise, and he chuckled at
that.

"Fuck, guess you really are a cock man, huh little bro?" he said,
grinning. He wasn't trying to be a prick, or put me down. It just was what
it was. Who I was. I was starting to realize it, and embrace it. I'd spent
this half of the year putting my skills to work, improving them, treating
my best bud, a teammate or two, the hot college kid four doors down to the
best head I could give. Getting better every time. Taking an AP course in
cocksucking, it seemed like, and I was a real willing student.

All those dudes had been great, and I'd learned to love the taste and
texture of a hot load of cum spurting across my tongue, coating the roof of
my mouth, sliding thickly down my throat. But none more than Brady's. Since
that first time at the beach house back in June, he'd been the one I was
getting better for. For this moment. So I took hold of the thick, veiny
heat of his cockshaft, smiled up at him, opened my mouth and set to work on
him.

"Ah ffffffuuuuccccckkkk," he hissed, hand on the back of my head, not
guiding it down so much as accompanying it, as I slowly took him
down. Working my way steadily down to the root, to the thick, dark,
slightly trimmed curls of his bush. He smelled a little different than last
time, manlier almost, and I loved it all, the pent-up scent of sweat,
precum, balls, dick. The scent and taste of it, as I wrapped my tongue
around his shaft and sucked slowly but firmly on him.

"Jesus, Matty, fuck yes," he growled, as I started to pull back, streams of
my spit flowing down his hardness. I looked up to meet his eyes, saw his
big smile, but the heated intensity behind it too. Growing even more heated
as I started to really suck him, hands squeeze-stroking his muscular
thighs, tasting my spit and his natural musk mixing in my mouth as he
throbbed on my tongue.

Brady was bigger than most of the dudes I'd messed with, definitely
thicker, but I was happy to find it took almost no time to get reacquainted
with him, and all the skills I'd been working on had helped a lot. Once we
found that comfort zone, where I knew I could take him and he knew he could
start giving me his dick, we both got to work. Brady's hips came up off the
mattress as he took my head in his hands, firmly but carefully, and started
to saw his cock across my lips, over my tongue, fucking my face with a
slow-building intensity. He seemed to know just how to control himself, and
I only had to tap his big, hard ass once or twice to get him to slow his
roll a little. He did immediately each time, and for the thousandth time, I
wondered what it must be like to go all the way with him. To get the
benefit of his experience, his talent, his considerate skills. Maybe one
day... but today was about this. Not just for him, but for me too.

We were both conscious of not making too much noise and alerting the folks,
but he managed a low, steady stream of encouraging fuck talk, his voice
getting super deep and husky and intense as he spurred me one, telling me
how good I was doing, how awesome I was making his cock feel, how much
better I'd gotten since summer. How he wished he could take me back to
school with him so he could have this every day. How he wished he could
share this with his tightest buds, his closest bros. The idea of that, of
servicing him and his hot college buds in his dorm room, really got to me,
and I started to work double-time on him.

I took control, because ultimately, the guy with the cock in his mouth
really has the upper hand, am I right? I pushed him down on the bed and
worked my throat, trying to summon up something I'd surprised myself by
managing to do a month ago. Sucked in air through my nostrils, shifted my
jaw, angled my head just the right way... and then listened to Brady try
not to howl as I finally managed to start deep-throating him.

"Aw jesus fuckin' fuck!" he grunted between clenched teeth, holding my head
tight as I slowly filled my throat with his throbbing, musky thickness.

"Dude... bro... nobody fuckin' ever," he panted, and if I could have smiled
with pride with my lips stretched so tight round his piece, I damn sure
would have. Instead, I gave him a low, happy hum, and that made him moan
even more, as it vibrated through his shaft and down into his big,
cum-stuffed balls.

I couldn't keep this up too long, because after all, I was pretty new to
it. But Brady was telling me that I was already getting pretty good at it
too, and that made me happy, and it made me want to make him cum. So I got
a little brave, scooping up some of the overflowing spit from his balls on
the tip of my finger, and slowly, stealthily, rubbed it down his taint. He
shivered a little at that, so I kept going, finding the thickness of his
manly fur surrounding his hole, almost pulling me inwards, down into the
deepest depths of his ass cleft. And there it was, all tight and hot and
pulsing - his hole. I circled it, glazed it with my spit, and then when he
didn't tighten up or pull back or smack the back of my head, I pressed a
little more.

"You horny little fucker," he chuckled above me, and I looked up to meet
his eyes, see his sweaty, grinning, handsome face. I hummed on his cock
again, watched his eyes roll back, and then he nodded slowly at me, and I
pressed on inside of him.

This never failed to make my best bud Danny cum like a fuckin' porn star,
and I guess Brady wasn't much different, because he sure seemed to like
it. I wondered if this was his first time, and figured college girls were
supposed to be more adventurous, so probably not. Didn't matter - this was
the first time his little brother had done it, and he was definitely
responding, his tight, hot hole milking my finger, like it was trying to
pull me in, towards the pulsing bulge of his prostate. I'd studied the
drawings in an old anatomy textbook - I knew what was up there, and where I
would probably find it, and once I did, I felt my big bro tense up all over
and barely stifle a deep shout of pleasure.

"Fuckin' shit, dude," he moan-whispered. "Keep it up and you'll get a
fuckin' mouthful, little bro."

"Go for it, bro," I hummed around his cock, and stroked his nut deep inside
even more determinedly as I locked eyes with him. I remembered how his cock
felt on my tongue when it was getting close, the sudden flow of mineral
precum, and as I teased and stroked his bud, I started to inch him back out
of my throat. Good thing, because my eyes were streaming and my vision was
starting to get a little off from the lack of air. Just in time, as it
turned out, because just as the head of his fat cock dragged back up over
my tongue, towards the tip, the taste of his precum filling my mouth, I
circled his bud even more intently with my finger, wrapped my tongue tight
round the head of his cock, and sucked on him for all I was worth.

Brady's muscles flexed all over, his hand clutching the back of my head
tight, and his mouth gaped in silent shouts as his prostate pulsed, his
cock throbbed, his big balls twitched, and he started to fire off. Jet
after jet of hot, thick, rich young cum, blasting my tongue and the roof of
my mouth in thick spurts. I savored the taste of it, letting it start to
fill my mouth, then began to swallow, feeling him sliding all hot and heavy
down my throat.

I fucking loved every single part of it. I guess I was gonna be a
cocksucker after all. But a pretty damn good one, if my big bro was any
guide.

"Dude... bro... goddamn... fuck, kid!" he moaned as he fell back against
his stacked pillows, staring at me with sweaty awe. "Coach P. wasn't
shitting me - you really have stepped it up a fuckin' notch this semester,
jesus fuckin' christ..."

"Coach doesn't know about this, though," I said, my voice all thick as I
swallowed the spit and cum that had accumulated in my mouth, before wiping
my lips clean... and after a moment, licking that up too. Brady stared at
me with a fascinated, intensely sexy grin.

"Maybe you oughta show him, little bro," he chuckled. "I get the impression
he might not turn you down."

"Dude, really?" I half-gasped, because after Brady, Coach P. was like my
second-string jackoff fantasy figure.

Brady just shrugged, that mysterious knowing smile of his spreading slowly
across his face. Then he slowly sat forward, grabbed my shoulders, and
pulled me up close. Another long moment looking deeply at me, before he
leaned in and kissed my lips. Softly, not a lot more than a slow peck, but
then so much more than that, too. The first time he'd ever done that to
me. Doing it in a way that said there might be more of that to come. I was
a fan of that idea, for sure.

"'Most Improved' for sure, little bro," he grinned at me, ruffling my
sweaty hair. Leaning in to nuzzle his lips against mine almost teasingly,
running his hand down my back, over the hard curve of my ass, then focusing
on it, rubbing it slowly.

"What else you been learning how to do since last time I was home, bud?" he
asked with that twinkle in his eye. My cock was already busting to unload,
and that just made it worse. Yeah, I'd had a finger or three up there, and
not my own, either. Not always, anyway. Just like last summer, I was
curious about a lot of things. If Brady was willing to teach me how to do
it, well shit - I was beyond willing. I was ready to roll, right there and
then.

"Shit, looks like it's me getting all the best presents this year," he
chuckled, and this time when he leaned in to kiss me, he kept it going,
taking it deeper as his hand slipped inside the back of my jeans and began
to explore my ass.

My big brother had it all wrong. Looked like the one getting all the best
gifts was gonna be me.