Extract
I watched him get out of bed, and I
thought he did a better job of it than I had, with hardly any sitting on the
edge of the bed retching before he stood up. He was starkers, and for a bloke
in his fifties, pretty hot, with a nice tight bum and smooth skin.
The last time I’d seen him naked, we
were both still at home, sharing a bedroom. I was sixteen, and he was fourteen,
so mostly we were a bit careful about getting dressed and undressed and so on.
I must have been moving quietly, or maybe he was too preoccupied to hear me,
but I walked in and found him starkers, sitting on the edge of his bed with one
of my 19s open on his knees, wanking to a picture of Marc Bolan. He half looked
up, with glazed eyes, still wanking, then he made a funny noise and shuddered,
spurting gouts of cum all over my magazine. Quite a day for firsts, really. The
first erect cock I’d seen, the first boy wanking, the first cumshot, and the
day I found out my little brother was gay. Or queer, as we called it then. I
hadn’t seen Marc Bolan with cum on his face, either, but compared with the
rest, that didn’t seem important.
“Sorry, Sis,” he panted.
“It’s okay. I’ve read it. You can keep
it. Do you want a tissue?”
He nodded, holding up a sticky looking
hand. “Are you going to tell Mum?”
“Course not.” I hoiked a tissue out of
the box, wiped his hand, and held it out for him. “You can do Marc Bolan and
your willie.”
“Thanks.”
I left him to it, and went off to wash
my hands. They weren’t covered in cum, or anything, but I didn’t want to have to
watch him cleaning up.
He was still starkers when I came back,
but standing up, and although his willie was still a bit swollen, he didn’t
have an erection any more. “Sorry, Sis.”
“It’s okay. Really. Did you enjoy it?”
He nodded. “I think Marc Bolan’s sexy.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I waited until he’d put
a pair of pants on, then I gave him a little kiss, but that was the last time
I’d seen him starkers. I left home a couple of months later.
When he came back from the loo, I got
to see his cock again, too, and it had the same half swollen look as the last
time, forty years before, but I didn’t think he’d been wanking. “You okay?” I
asked.
“Yes. Hung over, but otherwise fine.”
He slipped back into bed, and shuffled over a bit so that he was close enough
to kiss the end of my nose again.
“That’s nice. You did it last night,
too. Thanks for yesterday.”
