My Brother’s Kiss
submitted December 17, 2005
Categories: Family Fun
My brother kissed me on the mouth and gave me tongue. He was two years older than me and we were no closer or distant than any other two brothers. Sometimes we got along; sometimes we fought. As the younger brother, I would usually do what he told me unless it was something I really didn’t want to. One Saturday, he was in college, I was about to graduate from high school, we were the only ones at home. I was coming out of the bathroom across the hall from my room when Mitch came out of his bedroom down the hall.
He stopped me. “Let’s touch tongues,” he said. I was baffled by what he had in mind. “Stick out your tongue.” I did just as if I was in first grade sticking my tongue out at someone with my lips tightly drawn around my protruding tongue. He did the same and leaned forward until just the tip of our tongues met. The moment our tongues met he turned and headed back toward his bedroom. Then he stopped and came back. “Do it again.” I obediently stuck out my tongue. He moved closer and rather than sticking out his tongue, he kissed the end of my tongue. I relaxed and he kissed me right on the lips. His lips were on my lips. He moved in closer and wrapped one arm around my back, one around the back of my neck and held me close. His hips pressed against mine, his stomach and chest against mine. His lips parted and his tongue went in my mouth. He ran his tongue across my tongue, across my teeth, and across the roof of my mouth. He held me so tight I barely breathed. Then he released me and without a word went back to his bedroom and closed the door. Nothing like that ever happened again and in the four decades since that day we have never mentioned it. I don’t know how many times I have jacked off thinking about it.
I have always wondered, what would have happened if I had responded rather than just passively stood there. What if I had wrapped my arms around waist and held him as tight as he held me. What if I had tongued him like he did me. What if I had dropped one or two hands down to grip his ass, what if I had run my fingers along the waistband of his pants in back, or slid a hand down his pants and felt the naked flesh of his butt cheeks, or run a finger up his ass crack. What if I had squeezed a hand between our bodies and felt his crotch and cupped his balls or squeezed his thickening cock. In other words, what if I had responded by showing him that I was sexually interested. What if I had made clear I liked what was happening and wanted more.
After it ended, I could have let him see naked in the bathroom – we had separate bedroom since I started school so we didn’t regularly see each other naked – or made sure he “accidentally” caught me with a hard-on or jacking-off. What if I had suggested we kiss again or been the aggressor.
Maybe he would have pushed me away in disgust but maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe it would have led to regular making out, or a mutual jack-off, or maybe more. Maybe it would have led to sucking. Maybe I would have seen his hard dick pumping out cum (something I have never seen). Maybe I would have gotten to see his asshole (something else I have never seen) and maybe I would have gotten the chance to lick it, Finger It, or FUCK IT. Maybe he would have done the same to me. Maybe I could have given up my ass cherry to my big brother. Maybe he saw me as relief when his girlfriend was unavailable or on the rag – that was fine with me.
Maybe he was just curious and wanted to try something new – that was fine with me. Maybe he was sexually attracted to me – that was really fine with me. The bottom line is that I will never why he kissed me or what it might have led or if I could have encouraged it. But it has provided decades of jack-off fantasies which will no doubt continue.
P.S. His name was MICHAEL