Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 11:34:08 -0700 (PDT) From: Michael Smith Subject: An Invitation An Invitation By: Michael Smith Author's Note: All comments are welcome. Please send to wetswimboy2000@yahoo.ca He flew into my arms when I returned from my first year of university, this boy whose life I had been absent from for four months. I lifted him up and kissed him quickly on the lips. "Let's go start practising!" he said enthusiastically as I put him down. Adam had recently developed an obsession with soccer, so my mother found him a team to join for the summer, and I had promised to teach him how to play. As I had just gotten home and it was late, I told him what all boys his age hate to hear, that we will do it tomorrow. After my father had passed away a few years ago, Adam and I became very close. It was because of this relationship that my decision to go away for school was a difficult one, and I realized how much I had missed him as we sat at the dinner table and he regaled me with stories about his life at school. This continued through dinner and well past dessert when my mother finally interrupted, told him to take a bath and then go to bed. As much as I had missed him, I was somewhat relieved, but I let out a sigh when he readily agreed to do as he was told, but after getting up he grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs. "I want you to tell me a story, like you used to!" he said. Like all boys, he hated baths, so to make the experience more pleasurable for him, I would change into trunks, climb into the tub with him and tell him stories that I would make up on the spot while I bathed him. I feigned a much more extreme state of fatigue and he laughed as he pulled on my arm, all the way up the stairs. "Go get yourself ready for the bath and I'll meet you in the bathroom," I said to him. In my bedroom I quickly changed into a pair of trunks and then went to the bathroom and began to run the bath. A few minutes later, Adam walked into the bathroom, carrying a neatly folded towel, pyjamas, and a fresh pair of shorts. I was sitting on the side of the tub, and he put his things down and came up to me. He lifted his arms and I pulled off his t-shirt, revealing a smooth chest, slightly more muscular than the way I remembered it. Next, I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his ankles. Neither of us questioned why I was undressing him. It was not that he could not do it himself, but it was part of the routine that neither of us thought about breaking. His legs were just as smooth and slender as the rest of his body, but those muscles as well were more defined than I had remembered. I pulled down his shorts. He was not erect, but the sudden cold made his penis slightly stiff. I found myself looking at it rather than at him, suddenly and mysteriously fascinated with it. This was not a part of my brother's body I had ever before noticed. It is one of those things that as a brother, one simply does not think about. But I felt a sudden urge to touch it. It seemed like a long time had passed, him standing there naked in front of me, his naked body causing me to become hard, when I finally snapped out of it and told him to enter the bath. There were not yet any bubbles in the water, so I had a virtually unobstructed view of his body, which I did not take my eyes off of as I began a story. We were leaning against opposite sides of the tub, both of our legs in front of us, mine touching the sides of the tub and his touching the sides of my legs. He knew the bath routine, and after a few minutes of the story had passed, he automatically brought himself close to me and rested on his knees, his back turned to me. I rubbed shampoo into his hair, not letting the story falter for even a moment. Next, I took the bottle of shower gel, and lathered the soap on his back and his bottom. As I did this I felt my erection getting stronger instead of going away. I knew that this was not something that should be happening, but I was unable to make myself stop enjoying it. When I was finished with his back, he turned around. I rubbed the shower gel over his arms and then over his chest, caressing his nipples until I felt them going hard. I glanced occasionally at his face, making sure that he was engrossed in the story so that he would not notice the extra attention I was paying to his body. I moved on to his stomach and waist, enjoying the feel of his taught muscles. I took some more of the gel in my hands and with only my index finger and thumb, rubbed it over his balls and onto his penis. I squeezed him harder than was necessary, but made sure to keep the story I was telling him exciting. When I was finished he put one of his legs up on the side of the tub, then the other, for me to be able to wash them. He then settled back into the water, rubbing the soap off of himself as I finished telling him the story, which left him very satisfied, but me desperate for more. * Adam became comfortable in his nakedness around me. The climate changes during the day as well as who was around dictated his state of dress. In the relative cold of mornings and evenings, when my mother was home, he would always be wearing something. When we went outside to play football, he would always leave the jersey behind. After his baths, he would dress in some outfit or another, and then remove it at his convenience in various locations around the house, so that I could follow a trail of clothes and find him lying underneath the covers of his bed reading, or sometimes using the computer, covered with the throw on the chair, eating ice cream out of a bowl. When I found him like this once, a bit of ice cream fell off his spoon, and I quickly bent over and licked it off the skin just above where the throw was covering his waist. He enjoyed the various textures of my touch, and always gave me something to play with. If we were watching television, he might give me an arm or a shoulder; if we were playing video games our legs would touch. Physically, he was very clear about what I was allowed to have, but with whatever he gave me I could do anything. I could bite into his shoulder, or rub his foot along the front of my body. I could caress the skin of his stomach or run my nails down his back. I could kiss the flesh of his lips or his cheeks only in the morning and at night. The only time he would give me his whole body was in the bath. Only then could I touch him in places he would not give me otherwise—his nipples, his thighs, and the places in between his legs. * During those first weeks of summer, the same comfort did not reside in me. I would never let him see me completely naked. If I even thought about nakedness when he was around I would become aroused. One night he came into my room when I was masturbating. He had been frightened from a nightmare. I quickly ceased what I was doing and invited him into my bed. The following morning I told him that if he ever enters my room again without knocking, I would use a belt on him. That day, when I gave him a bath, he provided the story. He told me what the nightmare had been. He had done something bad (though he wouldn't tell me what). He knew that he was to be punished for it, so he waited in his room for me to come, but I never did, and he knew somehow that I wasn't coming back. "I'm sorry I didn't knock," he said when he finished describing the dream to me. "You can punish me if you want." I put my arms around him, resting my hands on his stomach, and pulled his body even closer to mine, so that I could feel the heat not only from the bath water but from the skin of his back. "There's no need," I said. "I told you that because I was angry. Not at you, but at what I was doing. Adam, did you see what I was doing?" "Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. But why were you angry? Is what you were doing something bad?" "No. But it can be sometimes. Have you ever done it?" "Yes," he answered sheepishly, pulling away from my slightly and closing his legs to hide his penis. "I got angry because it isn't something I was ready to share with you." "What do you mean?" "Well just now when I asked you if you do it, you were embarrassed. Which you don't need to be, but the fact that you are means that you aren't ready to talk about it with me. Do you see what I mean?" "Yeah." "Good. But you know that if you ever do want to talk about anything, that you can talk to me, right?" "Yeah I know." "Okay. Do you want to finish your bath yourself?" "Yeah, I think so." * He invited me into his arousal. He allowed himself to become erect the next time I was giving him a bath. As I began to touch him in between his legs, he leaned back and his lips turned into a very slight smile. I continued to pleasure him as I leant forward and kissed him on the lips, but this time tasting his lips with my tongue, and coercing his mouth into letting me in. I felt his penis stiffen even harder as I stroked it under the warm water of the bath, continuing until he had an orgasm. I took off the trunks I always wore while bathing him; the ones I wore to hide the erection that I now wanted to make visible. I took his hand and guided it, making sure that he would feel the cum when I had an orgasm. He looked at me with awe while it came out on his fingers and then gently washed away in the water. I smiled at him. "Tomorrow," I said, "I'll show you what it feels like to do that with your mouth." The End.