My dad pulled the Rover to the side of the dusty, sun-drenched street and put it in park. He looked over at me, a twinkle in his eyes that matched the setting sun. "Alright, Mika," he said with a warm smile, "you're all set for the weekend at Brody's?"
I nodded, already stepping out of the air-conditioned cocoon of the Rover and into the sticky heat of the countryside. "Yeah, Dad, I've got everything planned," I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. He had a habit of worrying about me too much, even though I was nineteen and had been to my brothers place a hundred times before.
As I pulled my bag from the backseat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the side mirror. My short, hair was neatly styled and my skin glowed from a recent tanning session. Dad looked sharp in his polo shirt, and his biceps flexed as he leaned over to help me. "Remember, Mika," he said, his eyes a bit more serious now, "tell us if it seems that Brody's having any issues. You know, with the money or... anything else."
I rolled my eyes. Dad had always been protective of Brody, his second but least worldly son. It was as if he thought Brody's muscles had crowded out his brain cells. "I'll keep an eye on him, Dad," I said, trying to reassure him without making it seem like a chore. "But honestly, it's usually just the usual mess. You know Brody."
My dad nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "Alright, just call us if you need anything," he said, handing me a wad of cash. "And don't let him borrow money from you," he added, half-joking but with a hint of seriousness. I tucked the cash into my pocket and gave him a salute before heading towards Brody's apartment.
Walking down the small town main street, the familiar faces of shop owners and passersby greeted me with nods and smiles. It was a welcome change from the isolation of my parents' house. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery, mixing with the faint tang of gasoline from the nearby station. The sound of a distant lawnmower provided the background melody to the lazy afternoon. As I approached Brody's place, the excitement grew. His apartment was nestled between a thrift shop and a small café, the perfect blend of comfort and convenience.
The bell chimed as I stepped onto the cracked step leading to Brody's door. The paint on the wooden frame had peeled and revealed the layers of previous tenants' choices. It was a stark contrast to the gleaming white house I had just left. But for some reason, I liked it here more. The imperfections were like a badge of authenticity, a declaration that life was lived here, not just displayed.
The door swung open, and there he was, Brody, in all his muscular glory. He had answered the door shirtless, wearing only a pair of gym shorts that clung to his hips like a second skin. Sweat beaded on his broad chest and trickled down the deep valleys of his abs. A towel was slung over his shoulder, and his hair was a damp mess from his recent exertions. His eyes grew wide when he saw me, and he looked down, his cheeks flushing a shade darker than his tan. It was clear that he had been so lost in his workout that he had forgotten about my visit.
"Hey, little bro!" he exclaimed, wrapping me in a crushing hug. The scent of his sweat was strong, but it didn't bother me. In fact, there was something comforting about it. "I'm almost done," he said, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "I got a bit... carried away."
I stepped back and looked up at him, grinning. "Well, you've definitely been busy," I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was already past the time we had agreed upon. "I see the gym called again."
Brody chuckled, his sheepish grin growing. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, running a hand through his damp hair. "It's just that... I don't know. I get into the zone, you know?"
I nodded and stepped inside, dropping my bag by the couch. The apartment was a mess of dumbbells and protein powder canisters. The floor was sticky, and the fan in the corner barely made a dent in the heat. "Looks like you've been busy," I said, raising an eyebrow at the chaos.
Brody shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "What can I say? I've got a lot of energy to burn." He gestured to the mess and rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I'll clean it up."
I chuckled and plopped down on the couch. "Don't let me stop you from your workout," I teased.
The loft room was open, with the kitchen and living room merging into one giant space. The only boundaries were the doors leading to the bedroom and bathroom. The clutter of weights and gym equipment didn't bother me. In fact, it added to the charm of Brody's man-cave. The couch was worn but comfortable, and I made myself at home, watching him as he sat back down on his bench press. His muscles bulged and flexed as he did his last few reps, the concentration etched on his handsome, albeit not-so-clever, face. It was easy to admire him from here. The way his biceps bulged and his abs rippled with each lift was mesmerizing. And those thighs... even hidden by his shorts, they were like sculpted works of art.
Brody had always been my secret crush, even if his IQ was on the lower end of the spectrum. But he was kind, and his body was pure sex appeal. Sometimes, when he was like this—distracted by his workout—I couldn't help but think that maybe his intellect didn't matter all that much. It made things easier, in a way. He wouldn't question my lingering looks or the way I leaned into his personal space a little more than I should have.
After a few minutes, Brody finally finished his set, his chest heaving with exertion. He wiped his brow with the towel and looked over at me with a grin. "Your turn, little bro," he said, gesturing to the bench. "You're looking pretty skinny. You need to bulk up before college."
I forced a laugh and stood up. "No, thanks," I said, trying to play it cool. "I'm not looking to become the Hulk."
Brody shrugged and handed me a water bottle. "Suit yourself," he said, taking a swig from his own bottle. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and I felt a strange mix of desire and protectiveness. He was so oblivious to his own beauty, so innocent in a way that made me want to both seduce him and shield him from the world at the same time.
He turned away from me and began to move around the room, picking up stray weights and wiping down the bench with his towel. Each movement was a dance of muscles, a silent show of power and grace that seemed so out of place in this cramped space. His chest was a canvas of sweat and determination, the light from the setting sun casting a warm glow on his body. It was impossible not to stare, and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for enjoying the sight of him so much.
He caught me looking and flashed me a grin, his teeth brilliant against his tanned skin. "What?" he asked, flexing his bicep playfully. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, but I shrugged it off.
"Nothing," I said, taking a sip of the water.
Brody chuckled and went back to his cleaning, his movements a little more exaggerated now that he knew I was watching. The way his muscles rippled as he bent and lifted was almost too much to bear. I shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable as my thoughts began to drift to places they probably shouldn't.
"You know, Brody," I said, trying to keep my voice casual, "you're pretty ripped."
"Thanks," he said, pausing to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "It's all the protein shakes and heavy lifting, I guess."
"No, really," I said, feeling bolder. "I've never seen anyone with abs like yours."
He looked down at his stomach and laughed, a deep rumble that seemed to shake the room. "They're just abs," he said, flexing them again. "But thanks."
I nodded, watching the play of muscles under his skin. It was like watching a live sculpture, each movement revealing a new line, a new curve. The conversation was easy, filled with the gentle teasing and banter that had always been our way. But there was an undercurrent of something else, something that made the air feel thick and heavy.
As he put the last weight away, he began to pick up the scattered towels and empty water bottles, his movements more deliberate now. Each step he took, each flex of his muscles, was a silent invitation for my eyes to follow. He was like a peacock in the wild, flaunting his colors without realizing the effect it had on me. I couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and longing. His skin glowed with a pinkish hue from his workout, and I found myself craving the warmth of his touch.
As he moved around the room, his gym shorts riding low on his hips, I couldn't help but imagine what was hidden beneath them. The way his muscular thighs tapered into the waistband made my pulse race. I knew I shouldn't, but my mind couldn't help but wander to what it would be like to have him wrapped around me.
"You really don't care if it's messy?" Brody asked, finally looking up at me. His eyes were sincere, and for a moment, I saw the vulnerability that lurked beneath his bravado.
"I'm used to it," I said with a shrug. "Besides, it's part of your charm."
He snorted, but the smile didn't leave his face. "I guess you're just used to me being a slob," he said, tossing the last towel into the hamper.
"I wouldn't say that," I said, standing up to help him. "I mean, you've got your own style, right?"
We both laughed, and the tension between us dissipated. We continued to chat about his workout routines and my plans for the weekend, our voices blending with the sounds of the TV in the background. The air in the apartment was still heavy with the scent of sweat and masculinity, and it was intoxicating.
Eventually, we decided to take a break from the cleaning and the banter. Brody looked down at me, his eyes lingering for a moment as we both took in the mess that was his floor. It was as if he wanted to ask me something, but the words were stuck in his throat. I playfully nudged him and told him to spit it out. He paused for a moment, flexing his biceps and scratching his neck. "I forgot how to do laundry again," he admitted, his voice a mix of embarrassment and hope.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes, but the smile on my face was genuine. It was a running joke between us—Brody had never quite gotten the hang of it, despite my many attempts to teach him. "Alright, I'll do it for you again," I said, taking the basket from his hands.
We made our way into the cramped bathroom, where I began to show him the ropes once more. The space was tight, and our bodies brushed against each other more than was necessary. The warmth of his bare skin sent electric currents through my body, and I had to fight to keep my focus on the task at hand.
I loaded the washing machine with the clothes from the basket, trying to ignore the racing of my heart as the scent of Brody's sweat grew stronger. When I turned around, I found myself looking at him, still dressed in his sweaty gym gear. My thought process was that it would be logical for him to wash those clothes as well, and without much hesitation, I told him to do just that. It came out more commanding than I had intended, which made me hope for a moment that he wouldn't take it the wrong way.
But Brody's simple nature didn't seem to register any discomfort. He just took my words as they were, and the lack of intellectual depth in his gaze made me realize that I could potentially push the boundaries a bit further. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, but the wheels in my mind were already turning.
As Brody started to strip, I couldn't help but feel a rush of power. He was so oblivious to how unusual our situation was becoming, and yet here he was, revealing more of himself without a second thought. I watched him peel off the only fabric that separated his privates from my view, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt. But the excitement won out as the reality of what was happening hit me.
He stepped closer to me, his muscles flexing as he reached for the only piece of clothing he wore, and my heart skipped a beat. The fabric of his shorts clung to his hips, outlining the definition of his abs. I tried to maintain my composure, focusing on the laundry, but my eyes kept drifting to his body. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his biceps bulged as he gripped the elastic waistband and pulled it down, exposing the V of his pelvis.
And then it all came into view—his clean-shaven cock and balls, well-maintained and inviting. It was clear that Brody took pride in his appearance, even in the most intimate of areas. His balls looked full and heavy, nestled below a cock that even in a flaccid state had a certain girth and length to it. He stepped out of his pants with an ease that was almost comical in the moment.
Before I could process what was happening, Brody was holding the pants right in front of my face, the fabric mere inches from my nose. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my guidance on what to do next. The scent of his manhood was strong, and it sent a wave of heat through me that was impossible to ignore.
My cheeks flushed, and I could feel my own cock stirring in my pants. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, my voice a little shakier than I would have liked when I told him to throw the clothes into the washing machine. He did as he was told, his muscles moving in a mesmerizing dance as he bent over to place the pants in the machine.
As he straightened up, I couldn't help but let my gaze linger on his nakedness. The bulge of his cock was growing more noticeable, and the sight was making it increasingly difficult for me to maintain my cool exterior. But Brody remained blissfully unaware, his eyes fixed on the soap dispenser as if it was the most complex piece of technology he had ever encountered.
"What detergent do you use?" he asked, and the innocence in his voice made me want to both laugh and groan in frustration. The situation was becoming more and more charged, and I had to decide how far I was willing to let it go.
"Just throw in a pod," I replied, my voice steady despite the racing thoughts in my head. He nodded, dropping it into the machine with a clunk, and then I closed the lid and started it up. The whirring of the washer filled the room, and we just stood there for a second, the sound of the water mixing with the silence that had fallen between us.
I took a deep breath, my eyes never leaving Brody's body. His cock had definitely perked up, and the sweat droplets that clung to his chest glistened in the harsh bathroom light. I knew I had to make my move, but I had to be careful. "You know what?" I said casually, "Why don't you take a shower before we get into the anime marathon? You're all sweaty from the workout."
Brody's face lit up at the mention of anime, his favorite pastime. "Oh yeah, good idea," he said, turning towards the shower. My gaze followed the trail of his body until his ass blocked my view of his growing arousal. The sight of his sculpted back, narrow waist, and powerful thighs wasn't lost on me. He was a living embodiment of masculine perfection, and the anticipation of what could happen later tonight grew stronger by the second.
As he disappeared behind the shower curtain, the sound of the water hitting the tiles was like a drumroll in my ears. I could see his silhouette through the translucent fabric, his hands moving over his body as he began to wash. The image was tantalizing, and I had to remind myself that this was still my brother. But the attraction was too strong, and the line between innocence and desire was blurring.
I stepped out of the bathroom, my own body now responding to the situation. How far was I willing to go.... Or rather, how far could I get Brody to go? The challenge was tantalizing, and the potential rewards were too tempting to ignore.
As I walked into the living room, my mind raced with ideas. I decided to play it cool, ordering our usual takeout for the anime marathon. While I waited for the food, an idear began to form—one that would test the waters of Brody's innocence and see just how much he was willing to follow my lead.
Eventually the sound of running water ceased, and Brody emerged from the bathroom, a towel precariously draped around his waist. He had a boyish charm that was almost painfully attractive, especially when he was so obviously oblivious to the effect he had on me. I sat on the couch, the anime paused on the screen, my eyes glued to his figure as he moved.
The towel was low-slung, leaving little to the imagination. The V of his abs peeked out, teasing me with every step he took. His muscular thighs flexed with each movement, and the way his bulge looked under the damp towel was something straight out of my wildest dreams.
He sauntered into the kitchen, still chatting away about the anime as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. His carefree nature was something I envied, and in that moment, I knew I had to push the envelope. "So, Brody," I began, "Who's the hottest chick in that show?"
He thought for a moment, his hand pausing mid-scoop over the protein powder. "Probably that one with the big ass," he said, his voice filled with innocence, as if that was the most normal thing to say about a fictional character. It was clear that Brody's taste in women was as primitive as his understanding of sarcasm. I couldn't help but smirk, watching the muscles in his arms ripple as he mixed the shake.
"Ass over tits, right?" I quipped, hoping to get a reaction from Brody.
He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, she's got a nice ass," he said, not noticing the subtle shift in my tone or the way I was now blatantly checking him out. The towel was barely hanging on.
"But what if," I began, trying to keep my voice even, "there was a guy with a body like that? Would you say the same?"
Brody looked at me quizzically, the wheels in his head clearly turning but not quite catching up. "A guy with a nice ass?"
I nodded, watching as he took a sip of his protein shake, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort of swallowing.
He put the glass down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of chocolate protein powder on his upper lip. He looked genuinely confused for a second, his brow furrowing in a way that made his muscles look even more pronounced. "Some guys do have nice bodies," he said slowly, as if considering the concept for the first time.
Encouraged by his openness, I took a deep breath and decided to go for it. "Yeah, I mean, if you had to pick a guy with a hot body, like from the show, who would it be?" I asked, my heart racing in anticipation.
Brody paused, his eyes glazed over as he thought hard. I forced my eyes back up to his face, trying to keep the conversation on track. "Well, if I had to choose," he finally said, "I guess it would be that guy, you know, the one with the...uh, the...short...slim...waist?" He gestured to his own midsection, his hand tracing a slender line.
"And a big ass?" I prompted, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, a big ass," Brody nodded, a little more enthusiasm in his voice now. "Firm, but not too muscular. Like, it jiggles when they walk, you know?" He demonstrated by making a little shimmying motion with his hips, and I couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement at the thought of what was under that towel.
"But not like, too much," he added, his expression earnest. "Just right. Like, bouncy. And a flat belly." He tapped his own abs, which were rock-hard and definitely not bouncy.
"So, you're into short guys with a nice, firm ass and a flat belly?" I clarified, trying to keep the conversation going.
Brody shrugged, not necessarily into, but I wouldn't say no if they had a hot body like that." He took another sip of his shake, still not catching the subtext of our conversation. I felt a strange thrill knowing his describtion was close to describing my body type, and it was all I could do to keep from smiling like a Cheshire cat.
Just as the conversation was reaching its peak, the doorbell rang, cutting through it. "Ah, the food," I said, standing up from the couch with an erection that I hoped wasn't too obvious. "I'll get it."
Brody nodded, turning away to head to his bedroom. "I'll go throw some shorts on," he called over his shoulder, his towel dropping to the floor and revealing his sculpted ass again.
I managed to make it to the door without tripping over my own feet, my heart racing. The delivery guy looked surprised to see me, but he handed over the pizzas without a word. I paid and closed the door, taking a deep emerged from the bedroom in a pair of shorts that barely contained his thick thighs and a plain white shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders and chest, leaving his muscular arms bare. The fabric clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing every ridge and bulge.
My cock strained against my own pants as I placed the pizzas on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa. "You want some?" I called out, trying to sound casual as I took a bite of my slice, hoping that my voice didn't give away the storm of desire that was brewing inside me.
Brody shuffled in, his bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. "Yeah, sure," he said, his eyes on the TV as he grabbed a slice. He sat down next to me, our thighs brushing together. The heat from his body was like a furnace, and it was all I could do not to reach out and touch him.
As we ate and watched the anime, I couldn't help but make subtle movements to get his attention—shifting closer, bumping against him "accidentally," and letting my hand graze his leg every now and then. I noticed his breathing getting heavier, his eyes straying from the screen more often to glance at me. Was he catching on? I couldn't tell, but I knew that I had to keep pushing, to find out how far his boundaries really went.
I leaned back against the armrest, my legs spread slightly apart, giving him a clear view of the bulge in my pants. I took a deep breath, letting out a little sigh that I hoped was just enough to make him look over. And sure enough, his gaze flickered downward before darting back up to meet my eyes. There was a question there, one that I wasn't quite ready to answer with words.
Instead, I took a sip of my soda, letting the cold liquid ease the dryness in my mouth. "So, Brody," I began, my voice low and measured, "What do you think about...experimentation?"
Brody looked at me, his brows furrowed. "Experimentation?" he repeated, his eyes searching mine for meaning.
I swallowed hard, my heart racing. "Yeah, like, trying new things," I said, my hand moving to rest on his thigh. "You know, just to see what you like."
He chewed thoughtfully on his pizza, his eyes still on me. "I guess I've never really thought about it," he said slowly. "What kind of new things are you talking about?"
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Well, I mean, like, with sex," I said, watching his reaction closely. "Ever thought about trying something different?"
Brody paused mid-chew, his gaze shifting from the TV to me. He swallowed the mouthful of pizza, his Adam's apple bobbing as he took a moment to digest my question. "It's been a while," he admitted, his voice low and gruff, a hint of embarrassment tingeing the words. "Since me and Becky broke up."
My heart skipped a beat. Becky was his high school sweetheart, and they had been together for a few years before she left for college. "How long?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual despite the racing thoughts in my head.
"Uh, about a year," he said, looking down at his plate. His cheeks had a faint blush, and I knew that this was the opening I needed.
"Must be tough, not having anyone to...help you out with all that energy," I said, my hand moving closer to his thigh. I could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching out and touching him more intimately.
He shrugged, his eyes flicking towards my hand and then back to the TV. "I manage," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "But it would be nice to have someone, you know?"
"I know exactly what you mean," I said, my hand still resting on top of his shorts, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric. "It can be lonely, but sometimes, you know, you just gotta take matters into your own hands." I gave his leg a gentle squeeze, watching his pupils dilate slightly.
Brody nodded, his gaze drifting to the side as he took a deep breath. His hand hovered over his lap, and I could see the fabric of his shorts tenting slightly. It was clear that my words were getting through to him on some level. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with something I hadn't heard before—desire, perhaps?
I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his ear. "Or, you know, maybe with someone you trust," I whispered, my fingertips tracing the seam of his shorts. He stiffened, but didn't pull away. "Someone who could show you something new."
Brody's breath hitched, and I felt the muscles in his thigh tense. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting towards me and then away again. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.
"Well," I said, my voice low and soothing, "I've been thinking, and maybe we could help each other out."
He turned to me, his eyes searching my face for some kind of clue, some hint that would tell him whether or not I was joking. But all he found was the truth—desire, raw and unfiltered, staring back at him. His cock twitched under my hand, and I knew that his mind was racing with possibilities, even if he couldn't articulate them.
"I don't get it," he said finally, his voice hoarse with confusion. "What do you mean, help each other out?"
I took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. "I mean," I began, my heart racing, "maybe we could, you know, explore together. Just to see what it's like."
Brody looked at me, his gaze a mix of curiosity and something else, something that made my heart race even faster. "What do you mean, explore together?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
"Well, you know, like, when guys are...pent up," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Sometimes, they just need a little release. And, you know, it's not always about being with a girl. Sometimes, guys can help each other out."
He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I've heard about that," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "But I didn't know people actually did that."
"It's pretty common," I said, trying to sound casual despite the thrill coursing through my veins. "Especially with college roommates and stuff. It's just...what guys do."
Brody's eyes lit up, the realization dawning on him. "Oh," he said, his cheeks coloring slightly. "So you're saying we could, like, jerk off together?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. "It's totally normal, man. And it might just help us both out."
He looked at me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. Then, with a decisive nod, he leaned back into the couch, his hand moving to adjust his shorts. "Alright," he said, his voice a little shaky. "If it's what you want."
"It's what I want," I assured him, my hand moving to mirror his. "But only if you're cool with it."
He nodded again, his eyes still fixed on the TV, but I could see the excitement growing in his expression. "Thanks for bringing it up, Mika," he said, his voice gruff. "I've been really pent up lately, especially after workouts. I tried to jerk off in the shower earlier, but I never have enough time."
I licked my lips, his words exactly what I liked to hear. "No problem, Brody," I replied, keeping my tone casual despite the thrum of anticipation in my voice. "We're bros, we're supposed to help each other out."
He nodded, his hand moving to the button of his shorts. "I've got a lot of...stamina," he said, his voice trailing off as he started to unbutton his shorts. "But maybe with someone else, it'd be easier."
As he spoke, my heart raced. This was it—my chance to make my fantasies come true. I leaned in closer, my hand moving to rest on his forearm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I totally get it," I said, my voice a whisper. "It's like, when you lift weights—sometimes you need a spotter, right?"
Brody looked at me, his eyes wide. "Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "Exactly."
My heart was racing in my chest, and I couldn't believe that I had managed to get him to this point. "Well," I said, my voice steady, "we've got all night. And I'm here to make sure you get the release you need."
Brody, as impulsive as ever, didn't need much encouragement. He nodded eagerly, his hand already gripping the waistband of his shorts. He pulled them down in one swift motion, and his cock sprang free, half-hard and thick, just like I had seen in the bathroom. The sight of it made my mouth water.
"Oh man," Brody said, his voice thick with excitement, as he pulled his shorts down. His cock was already half-hard, standing tall and proud. It was just as big and meaty as it had been in the bathroom, the sight of it making my own cock throb in my pants. I couldn't believe what was happening, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
"So, Brody," I began, my eyes never leaving his cock as it grew before us, "How do you usually like it?"
He blinked, his hand still hovering over his length. "You mean, when I jerk off?" he asked, already thinking about it.
"Yeah," I said, keeping my tone casual. "How does Becky used to do it?"
Brody leaned back into the couch cushions, his cock now fully erect. "Well," he began, "she liked to give me hand jobs, but she wasn't always into it, you know?"
"I know," I murmured, my hand moving to cover his. His skin was hot, his pulse racing under my fingertips. "But now, we can do whatever feels good for you. No judgment."
He nodded, his eyes wide with excitement. "Okay," he said, his voice thick with desire. "What do you suggest?"
"How about you tell me what you like?" I asked, my thumb tracing lazy circles on his inner thigh. "Do you like it fast or slow?"
"Fast," he said exited, his breath catching. "But sometimes slow can be good too." He added.
"And do you like it when she—uh, when someone plays with your balls?"
Brody nodded, his hips shifting slightly. "Yeah, that feels really good."
"And what about your ass?" I said, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. "Does that feel good?"
He looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise. "You mean, like, with a finger?"
"Or anything else," I said, my voice a low purr. "Whatever you're comfortable with."
Brody took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. "I've never tried it," he admitted, clearly not really into the idear of it... yet.
"It's all about what feels good," I assured him, my hand moving closer to his cock. "And we can take it slow, okay?"
He nodded, his eyes never leaving my hand as it laid on his thigh, his voice filled with excitement. "Okay, sure," he murmured, his breaths coming quicker now. "What do you want me to do?"
I stood up from the couch, and his eyes followed me, his gaze hungry. "Just sit back and relax," I said, my voice smooth and reassuring. "Let me show you what I can do."
Brody nodded, his excitement palpable as he leaned back into the couch cushions, spreading his big legs. His cock now a bit thicker but still not fully erect, bobbed with his rapid heartbeat. I looked down at him, taking in his trusting gaze and the way his arms tightened as he adjusted his position.
"Alright," I said softly, kneeling between his legs. "I'll start with you, and then you can return the favor."
His eyes widened with excitement as I leaned in closer, my breath ghosting over his shaft. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked, his voice shaky.
"Remember, I'm gay Brody," I whispered, "I've had a lot of practice with cocks." His eyes lit up with excitement, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're gonna love it, trust me."
Brody nodded eagerly, his voice filled with anticipation. "Great," he said, his hand moving to grip his cock. It was thick and heavy in his hand, the veins standing out as he began to stroke it.
I watched him for a moment, feeling a surge of power and excitement at the sight of my straight jock brother about to pleasure himself in front of me. "Brody," I said, my voice low and teasing. "You sure you don't need any help with that?"
His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and I could see the desperation in them, and as I started to stand, he quickly said, "No, no, wait." He lifted his hands away, his body flexing with the sudden movement, his cock standing proud and leaking precum. "You can start now," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and urgency.
I smirked, enjoying the way he squirmed under my gaze. "Alright, if you insist," I said, settling back down between his legs. His cock bobbed slightly as he released it, and I took a moment to admire it up close—it was every bit as beautiful as I had imagined. I leaned in, my breath hot against his skin, and whispered, "But if you want to get the full experience, you gotta let me do it my way."
Brody's eyes widened, and he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay," he said, his body going taut with anticipation. "Whatever you say."
With a wicked smile, I placed my hand on his inner thigh, my fingertips tracing slow, teasing circles closer and closer to his cock. The scent of his arousal was intoxicating, making my own cock throb painfully in my pants. His skin was hot to the touch, but oddly soft, and the muscles underneath flexed as I moved closer to his manhood. The anticipation was unbearable, but I knew I had to take it slow, to savor every moment.
Eventually I decided to stop the teasing and took the plunge. I gently slid my hand up his thigh, feeling the heat and power beneath this skin. His muscles tensed as my hand approached his cock, and I could see the anticipation in his eyes. When I finally reached the base of his shaft, I wrapped my hand around it firmly but gently, giving it a squeeze that made him gasp.
The feeling of his thick, warm flesh in my hand was exhilarating. I stroked him slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth slightly parted as he let out a low groan. The sound went straight to my cock, making it throb painfully against my zipper. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning myself as I began to explore him further.
My other hand traveled up his thigh, the muscles tight and firm under my touch. I could feel the tension building in him, his body begging for more. I reached his balls, heavy and full in my palm. I gave them a gentle squeeze, feeling them tighten in response. Brody's eyes shot open, and he let out a surprised gasp. "Mika," he panted, his voice thick with lust.
With a wink, I decided to give his balls the attention they deserved. I lightly caressed them, feeling their weight and warmth in my palm. I could tell he enjoyed it, his body leaning back into the couch cushions, his breathing getting heavier. I held them gently, savoring the moment before I started to stroke his cock at the base. The veins pulsed under my touch as I began to move my hand up and down, keeping a slow and steady rhythm.
Brody's eyes rolled back, and he let out a deep, guttural moan that sent waves of pleasure through my own body. His cock grew harder and thicker in my grip, and I knew he was enjoying it. I kept my movements slow, enjoying the build-up, watching as precum began to bead at the tip. His breaths grew more ragged, his hips rising slightly to meet my hand.
I could feel my own cock straining against my pants, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. But I had to keep going, had to make sure Brody was comfortable with what was happening. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his skin as I whispered, "You like that, don't you?"
Brody nodded, his eyes still closed, his mouth open in a silent cry. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "It feels...amazing."
Encouraged by his response, I began to increase the speed of my strokes, my hand sliding up his shaft until I could feel the softness of his foreskin. I tugged at it gently, watching as his cock grew even harder, the head swelling and darkening. His thighs tensed, and his hips bucked upward, his hands gripping the couch cushions tightly.
He was so lost in the sensation that he didn't even notice when I leaned in closer, my hot breath playing over the length of his cock. I could feel the anticipation in the air, thick and heady. I wanted him to beg for it, to crave the feeling of my mouth on him. I hovered just out of reach, watching as his eyes snapped open, his gaze locking onto me.
"You gonna suck it?" he asked, his voice thick with need.
I chuckled, my hand still working him steadily. "Not yet," I said, enjoying his frustration. "But I'll give you something to remember." And with that, I leaned in lower and kissed his balls gently, my tongue flicking out to taste the saltiness of his skin. Brody's body tensed, and I saw his hands let go of the couch, reaching for my head before he caught himself and clasped them behind his neck, his biceps bulging with the effort.
His eyes went wide, and he stared at me with a mix of shock and pleasure. "Oh, fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse. I took that as a good sign and hile I let go of his balls, my hand continued to glide up and down his shaft, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the heat of his arousal.
My heart was racing, but I kept my cool exterior, enjoying the sight of Brody's biceps bulging as he held his hands behind his neck, giving himself up to me completely. His body was a masterpiece, and I took a moment to appreciate the view. I leaned back on my heels, taking in his tight abs, the way they rippled with every breath he took, a trail of light brown hair leading from his navel down to his cock. His broad chest, sadly covered by his shirt, rose and fell rapidly with his ragged breaths. His wide shoulders, so strong and capable, were tense with anticipation, the muscles standing out in stark relief in the dim light of the room.
With a gentle smile, I asked, "Brody, are you ready to finish?" His eyes snapped to mine, glazed with desire, and he nodded fervently, his chest heaving. He didn't need to say a word; his body language spoke volumes. I decided to keep it simple for now, focusing solely on my handiwork.
I stroked him with purpose, my grip firm but not too tight, watching his reactions with a hawk-like focus. His hips bucked, and his groan grew louder, echoing in the small room. His cock was a work of art, and I was the artist bringing it to its peak. As much as I craved to feel his hot cum on my face, I knew that was a step we'd have to build up to. For now, I was content with watching him lose control.
Brody's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth opening in a silent scream. His body tensed, and I knew he was close. I stroked him faster, my hand a blur, the sound of skin on skin filling the air. His cock swelled in my grip, and his balls tightened, the musky scent of his arousal growing stronger. The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel my own cock begging for release.
With a final, desperate groan, Brody's body convulsed. His cock spasmed, and hot cum shot out, hitting my hand and spattering the floor. It was a sight to behold—his powerful body succumbing to pleasure. I watched in awe as he came, his chest heaving and his abs clenching with every spurt.
As Brody's climax subsided, he slumped back into the couch, his breathing ragged and his eyes unfocused. I sat back on my heels, admiring my handiwork. His cock was still half-hard, glistening with the remnants of his release. "Holy shit, Mika," he managed to gasp out, his voice hoarse.
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound filled with a mix of relief and excitement. "Told you it would feel good," I said, wiping my hand on a napkin I'd set aside for this very purpose.
Brody looked at me, his expression a mix of shock and awe. "What just happened?" he whispered, his eyes searching mine.
"We just had a little...bonding experience," I said with a wink.
With trembling hands, he adjusted his own cock, which was already starting to soften. He stroked himself subliminally, his eyes never leaving my face. "You really liked that?" he asked, his voice still shaky.
"More than you know," I replied, my voice low and filled with desire.
I stood up and casually strolled to the kitchen sink, acting as if the feel of his cum on my hand was an everyday occurrence, which for me, was a dream come true. I turned on the faucet, the sound of the running water a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had fallen over the living room. As I washed my hand, I could feel Brody's eyes on me, his mind racing with questions and confusion. This was the perfect moment to keep the momentum going, to make sure he knew this wasn't a one-time thing.
As the water washed away the evidence of his orgasm, I knew I had to play it cool. I didn't want to scare him off, not yet. I had to make him crave more, to want it so badly that he'd seek it out on his own. I turned off the faucet and dried my hand, taking my time as I walked back over to the couch. Brody was still sprawled out, his legs spread wide, his cock now at rest against his stomach. He looked up at me with a mix of bewilderment and awe, his cheeks flushed.
"You're pretty hard down there," Brody commented, his eyes flicking down to the obvious bulge in my pants.
I glanced down, feigning nonchalance. "Yeah," I said, "It happens when you see something hot."
He blinked, then grinned. "So, you want to go next?"
I chuckled, acting selfless. "Nah, Brody. You just had your fun. I can wait for my turn."
The air grew thick with tension as he took in my words, his expression a mix of surprise and arousal. "But you're all...ready to go," he said, gesturing awkwardly towards my crotch.
"It's all good," I assured him, sitting down next to him on the couch. "We've got all night. No rush."
He nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "Okay," he murmured, his hand still resting on his now softening cock. "But you're sure?"
"Yeah," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, it's your night. You should enjoy yourself."
Brody's eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of deceit, but all he found was a genuine smile. He leaned back into the couch, his eyes drifting shut. "Thanks, Mika," he said, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction.
I knew he was still reeling from the intense experience, but I also knew he was curious. He hadn't realized the full extent of what had just occurred, but the seed had been planted. And now, it was my turn to take the lead, to show him that this was just the beginning.
"So," I began, keeping my voice casual, "What do you want to do now?"
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. "Anime and the rest of your pizza," Brody said, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. "Best nights are when you come over." He sat up, grabbing his shorts from the floor, and pulled them back on. The fabric clung to his muscular thighs, leaving his cock and balls to swing freely beneath. It was clear he hadn't put on underwear, and the sight of his bulge was more than enough to keep my arousal at a peak.
As he moved back into the kitchen, I couldn't help but stare, watching the sway of his hips and the way his cock moved with every step. It was a hypnotic dance, one that had my mouth watering for another taste. He grabbed a plate and slid the remaining pizza onto it before bringing it back into the living room. He had a way of moving that was both clumsy and graceful, like a bear in a china shop—large and powerful but surprisingly agile when he needed to be.
Brody sat back down on the couch, the cushions groaning under his weight. He offered me a slice. "You want some?" he asked, his smile wide and innocent.
I took the slice, my eyes never leaving his face. "Thanks," I murmured, taking a bite and watching him devour his food. He was back to his usual broadish self, his mind seemingly unbothered by what had just transpired between us. It was like nothing had happened—like we hadn't just shared an intimate moment that would forever change our relationship.
But I knew better. I could see the curiosity in his eyes, the way they flickered to my crotch every now and then. He was thinking about it, trying to make sense of it all. And I knew that he would come to me when he was ready for more.
We settled back into our spots on the couch, the TV playing the anime we had been discussing earlier. The sounds of battle and explosions filled the room, but my mind was elsewhere—on the feeling of Brody's cock in my hand, the taste of his precum on my lips. It was a memory that would stay with me forever.
As the night grew late, Brody's eyes started to droop, his hand resting on his belly. "Thanks for coming over, Mika," he said, his voice sleepy. "It's always better when you're here."
"No problem," I said, my voice a low purr. "I enjoy spending time with you."
As the credits rolled on the anime, I stood up and stretched, the fabric of my pants straining against my still-hard cock. "We should get some sleep," I suggested, noticing the time on the clock.
Brody nodded sleepily. "Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded. "Where are you crashing?"
"The couch," I replied, walking into his bedroom to grab the spare pillow and blanket. As usual.
Brody nodded, standing up aswell before walking into the bathroom. "I'm gonna brush my teeth," he called over his shoulder.
I took that as my cue to set up my makeshift bed on the couch. The cushions were worn and familiar, holding the scent of Brody's aftershave and the faint aroma of his sweat. It was both thrilling and relaxing. I laid out the blanket and fluffed the pillow, trying to ignore the throbbing in my cock. The thought of joining him in his bed was tempting, but I knew that would be crossing a line. One step at a time, I reminded myself.
As the bathroom light flicked off and Brody's heavy footsteps approached, I feigned nonchalance, pretending to scroll through my phone. He emerged, his body now bare except for a pair of boxer briefs that did little to conceal his ample package. He was still as oblivious as ever to my attraction, and I felt a twinge of both frustration and excitement at the sight of him.
"Good night, Mika," he said, his voice thick with sleep.
"Night, Brody," I responded, my eyes lingering on his broad back as he disappeared into his room.
Once he was safely tucked in, I allowed myself to strip down to my underwear, my cock tenting the fabric with anticipation. I knew I wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight, my mind racing with images of what had just happened and the endless possibilities of what was to come. I lay there, listening to the sounds of his breathing, the occasional snore, and the creaks of the old house. And as much as I wanted to act on it, I knew that patience was the key to unlocking the treasure trove of experiences that lay ahead.
I lay there, stroking my cock slowly, thinking about Brody's body, the way he had felt in my hand, the sounds he had made. Each stroke brought me closer to the edge, but I held back, not wanting to miss out on the sweet agony of waiting for the next time we could be together like this. The anticipation was almost as exhilarating as the act itself.
As I stroked, I could feel my body relax, the tension of the day draining away. But even as sleep started to claim me, my mind was racing with thoughts of Brody. Would he seek me out for more? Would he be as receptive next time? The questions swirled in my head, creating a storm of desire that I knew would only grow stronger with each passing night.
