Home for the Holidays

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

My parents had me as their firstborn child soon after their marriage and then skipped almost ten years before they decided to have another child. John envied me from the age he was old enough to do so, and made my life miserable in the way that only a little brother a decade younger than yourself is able to do so. I got pegged as his babysitter on numerous occasions and when I did have a date for myself (rare), he was right there trying to get into the middle of the couch so he could be a part. John pulled every dirty trick a little brother has and then some, so my moving away to college was a relief in more ways than one.

So I went to Princeton and as I had expected, I soon learned that John had moved himself into my bedroom. I told Mom on the phone that he had better not mess up my bedroom, and she promised me that he wouldn't.

I heard nothing more about the subject and figured I'd made my point until I had gone home for the Christmas break (I had had a job at college that had kept me from the home town on Thanksgiving) but I was now home from December 23 until January 5 and intended to take back my room during that time.

I got a rude awakening when I did arrive. Mom broached it like nothing important. "We've stored all your stuff in boxes in the basement," she started.

"Basement?" I asked numbly.

"And labeled the boxes so if you want something from it, you can get it." she went on. "As for sleeping, the couch folds out into a bed, or you can set up a cot, we have the one we use on the camping trips."

"Cot? Basement?" I gasped. "What about my bedroom?"

"It's John's bedroom now," my mother explained. "I can't take it away from him."

"What about his old bedroom?" I wanted to know.

"It's a sewing room and craft room now." Mom said with a bit of a blush. "I make money for us by sewing up custom clothes and costumes for theatrical plays and so on. I'm doing rather well, actually."

"So...I'm consigned to the basement on a cot?" I said, feeling totally butt-hurt. I mean, I'd only been gone a few months.

"It's only a few weeks." Mom commiserated. "You said you have a job lined up to join an off-shore oil rig crew in summer, don't you?"

"Yeah, but...."

"And plan to do that the rest of your college years, then you'll get a job probably in a town far away from here."

"I guess so."

"And when you do, your things are all packed up and ready to be picked up and taken wherever you go."

"But...it was my room." I said mournfully.

"It was." Mom agreed. "John is growing up and he'll take care of it as well as you did. You'll see."

I went up to see the room. I hated to admit it, but she was right, my little brother had his (my!) room as neat as I would have made it. Maybe I'd rubbed off on him after all, in a way.

"Hey, Matt." came John's voice behind me. "What do you think?"

"You did a nice job." I said. "Clean as mine always is."

"Mom promised if I kept it clean she wouldn't snoop around in it." John was a lot more confident acting than he'd been when I had left, hugging me in tears. His black hair was neatly combed instead of being mussed and dried out as it had been when I'd left, his face was beginning to firm up into adult shape instead of the rather rotund baby-face that had lingered there for so long. He was going to look a lot like me when he grew up, I realized, even a little cuter maybe. Not that I was hard on the eyes at one hundred and ninety-two pounds of lean muscled body fit for work on oil rigs or other hard labor in summertime.

"I asked Mom about where you were going to sleep while you were here. She turned my old room into her own business."

"I know." I said. "I get either the foldout bed from the couch and you and I both remember how bad that sucks or sleep on a cot in the basement. I guess I'll take the basement. It's where all my stuff is now, anyhow."

"You could share my bed with me." He offered. "It's big enough for two."

"Well..." I said. He did have a queen-sized bed, we'd fit well enough. "Sure, thank you." I said. "I'll get my bags."

A guest in my own home! Whatever became of the world?

Mom was pleased with the answer and I spent the rest of the time looking through the boxes in the basement which now held what used to be my life. I didn't need anything out of them, but their memories. Dinner was prepackaged, microwaved foods, Mom had been busy working on Christmas costumes. Our meals would be all that way, or delivered, until after the holiday. So much for home cooking! I ate better back at the college cafeteria!

When John suggested at nine o'clock that it was time for bed, I was more than willing to turn in early. Depressed, frankly.

I went up to my old room, now John's, and sighed as I sat on the side of the bed and took off my shoes and socks.

John was doing the same thing on the foot of the bed and he asked me. "Which side do you want?"

"I'll take the far side." I said. The far side had the window right beside it, the northern exposure on that side meant that curtains weren't needed for sunlight and trees blocked the view from the other houses. I'd used that to good effect on hot summer nights, lying nude on my bed and letting the gentle wind that blew in the window in lieu of the air conditioning we could only afford in the living room back then. Now the entire home had air conditioning. Mom's home business was actually doing very well.

"Okay." John was watching me as I pulled off my shirt and undershirt and reached for my pants, then stood there with my hands on the fly, the top button undone and the zipper half unzipped, paused, and saw him staring. "What is it?" I asked.

"Just...just looking at you." He admitted. "I haven't seen you without a shirt in a long time."

"Oh." I smiled. "I've been using the university's workout equipment a lot." I flexed my bicep for him, then struck the bending knees and flexing front muscles as I held my arms in an "S" shape, one upwards, one downwards, but both showing my biceps and forearms, the way my contracted abdominals popped out above my pectorals and chest. It showed my every muscle above the waist and I grinned at him.

"Wow!" he said in awe. "You look fantastic!"

"Takes a lot of work." I said. "And cutting out the junk foods and a lot of other stuff that isn't a lot of fun...but the results make it worthwhile."

"Sure does." he breathed. "Let's get into bed." he sighed. He was bare to the waist himself, his body thin but holding potential to become as firm and ripped as mine were. He saw me looking and imitated my pose, his thin arms looking like half-cooked spaghetti and I smirked at him, then turned that into a smile.

"Get into bed, Hercules." I said.

"You have to, first." He pointed out. "Far side, remember?"

"Oh. Right." I said and my hand went down to my zipper again. This time I pulled it all the way down and peeled my jeans off and stepped out of them and now I wore only my briefs, a rather abbreviated pair in red with navy blue seams and he grinned as I moved past him to clamber into the bed. I could almost feel his eyeballs massaging my ass cheeks as I waddled over into where I could get my legs under the covers on the far side and I kicked at them and got them over my lower body and he joined me at the side and took over pulling his side of the covers up over both of us.

"I'm glad you're home." John said as he moved over to snuggle up against me, way too close for comfort but I didn't say anything. "I've missed you a lot."

"I've missed you, too, runt." I said. "You're growing up right before my eyes."

"Uh-huh. I want to be just like you." he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too, sport." I said and my hand on the arm he was lying on reached down to ruffle his hair. His own upper hand (he was on his side against me) slid over my body, feeling my muscles, and I let him do so, feeling out my pectorals, running the outlines of my breast plates and then threading the central line, testing to feel the abdominals (resting and not prominent any more) as he felt down, his fingers found my navel and teased the hair there and I had to giggle from their tickling.

Then his fingers found their way under the elastic of my brief's waistband and slid inside and I gasped as he gripped my dong. "What are you doing?" I got out in surprised, broken tones.

"I got your peter!" he crowed at me. "What are you going to do about it?" He challenged me.

Do about it? Maybe you, sitting at your computer with your beer in one hand and dick in the other could come up with a better answer, but you try thinking one up when a kid (my own little brother!) has grabbed your dick and it's stiffening up in his hand! Because mine was!

"I'll...I'll tell Mom!" is what I got out. "So let go of me, now!"

My cock was stiff as a rock and he began to jack it inside my briefs. "Are you saying you don't like it?" he asked me cunningly.

"I...I didn't say that." I groaned. Shit, that felt so good! You jack yourself and it's kind of ho-hum for most of it, but another person grabs you and, I don't know, the element of not knowing what they're going to do and when adds that certain je ne sais quoi that self-masturbation can never reach.

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop!" he grinned at me, a downright evil grin.

"You little bastard." I moaned. "Keep jacking it, or I'll punch you in the nose!"

He tittered and said, "Help me get your jock off so I can give you a jack off."

"Clever." I said and lifted my hips so he could slide my briefs down. "I should have known when you offered to share your bed with me you had something up your sleeve."

"Nothing up my sleeve, but I got plenty in my hand." he seized my cock again.

I kicked briefs off my feet and splayed my legs out. "Okay, you wanted it, you got it. Get to whacking it and I'll give you a load of cream like you've never seen before." A thought occurred to me. "Or have you?"

"No, just me and Tom and Jeff and Sidney." he said. They were boys his own age. "But Jeff told me he saw his big brother jacking off one time and he squirted out a whole bunch of white gooey stuff and sprayed it all over their bathroom sink."

"That's what I was talking about." I murmured. "Whack mine enough and I'll let you get a look at it up close and personal."

"Okay." he said and shifted his body so his front was facing me, him lying on his side next to me on my back. My hand was inches away from his young doodle, and I saw he had a hard-on, a rod only about three inches long and cute as a button.

I reached out and gripped it in my thumb and forefinger and John gasped. "Oh, oh, oh-oh!"

I began to work his piddle and he moaned and crooned, imitating me, I think. "Just teaching you what happens to little brothers who play with my cock." I said.

"Ooh, oooooooh, it's nice, so nice."

"You like that, eh? Well, try this." I scooted my head around and down and got to where I could grip his puny dick in my lips and I tongued the head of it while I held on.

"OH, OH, OH, OHHHHHH!" he cried out, and that was no imitation. "Oh, Matt, that feels so gooooood!"

He didn't stop with those words, he got his own mouth over my cock and got busy, if clumsily.

"Whoa, oh, OW, whoa!" I cautioned him. "Easy there, there's a skill to doing this. You want to suck cock, you have to do it like this." I used his small pud to demonstrate and pretty soon he had me going pretty damned nice!

I sucked him to his young climax and he groaned and crooned and shook and I got a bit of sticky goo on my tongue but that was about it. I smacked my lips and said his jizz tasted good, and he giggled.

I then lay back and let my little brother suck away. He never got really good at it, but there's a hell of a lot of hotness in having an eight year old boy between your legs servicing your pud with eager, wet sounds of slurping and sucking thrown in.

I climbed slowly but surely to my climax, getting there just as he was beginning to get all worn out, so I let 'er rip, moaned and groaned and then with a shuddering, "OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OHHHHHHHHH, HUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" I shot my cream up into his face, because he pulled off at the last moment and jacked me through my climax.

He got my spooge on his forehead, both cheeks, nose, lips and chin, and a glob of my jizz dangled off his chin like a swaying tetherball, and I reached up and caught it on my index finger and then stuffed it in his mouth. "Here, taste this." I said. "You can decide for yourself if you want to catch all of it next time."

He grinned and said, "Tastes pretty good." His pink tongue slid out and lapped at his lips and I grinned at that and spent some time fetching the globs on his face onto my finger and feeding it to him.

He crawled up then and into my arms and sighed. "That was nice." He said. "I thought your dick would taste nasty or something, but you tasted pretty good. I have to show Tom and Jeff and Sidney about this. After Christmas vacation."

"Yeah." I agreed. " I can give you plenty of exercise in how to do it by then." Okay, I was being a bit presumptuous there, but I'd been his hero to be adored for so long, I just assumed he would want to. I was right about that, by the way.

But that was later. He said after a while. "Matt?"

"Huh?"

"Is there another way to do it? Have sex, I mean, with two men."

"Yes," I agreed slowly. "But it's pretty advanced especially for your age. I would have to grease up my prick and stuff it into your butthole. Some people never do it."

"Have you done it?" He asked me. "Had a guy stick his dick in your butt?"

"Uh...yeah." I said. "An older guy picked me up once in a bar, and we did it. He was gentle about it and it didn't hurt a whole lot, but it did hurt some."

"How did it feel?" John asked.

"It felt...awesome." I admitted. "I wouldn't do it with just anyone, though. But a special guy, sure."

"I want to learn it, I want it!" he acted for the first time since I'd come home like the bratty younger brother out to get anything his older brother got.

I sighed noisily like I always did but that was only acting on my part. While my story about the older man was true, my sex life was pretty lame, I spent too much time working to be able to afford Princeton.

I would love to spend the rest of the holiday plowing my little brother's ass every night. Even though I had a job for the week between Christmas and New Year's Day already. With John waiting in my (our) bed, I was set for the entire holiday.

It can be nice coming home for the holidays. If you play it right.

THE END
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