Newquay

There was a long pause as I thought about what he'd said. He shifted around a little, perhaps becoming worried that he'd said too much.

After half a minute or so, I nodded slowly. "Okay... let's say I accept that... what about you? How far would you be prepared to go with me?"

He looked at me and smiled humourlessly. Then he said, his voice serious, "You know how much you mean to me, mate. If you wanted to screw me, I'd let you. You know that..."

What he said was both startling and touching. All the more so because it was obvious he'd thought deeply about this since finding out about his mate and his brother.

When I'd recovered my wits a little, I muttered, "I couldn't do that to you." Although, even as I said it, the idea was slowly becoming attractive to me and I knew that I could. 

He nodded, his expression suggesting that my answer had been the one he'd expected rather than that he shared my opinion.

He asked, "And what about the other?"

"The cock sucking?"

"Yeah."

Again there was a long pause. I liked the fact he'd indirectly set the terms and conditions, making it clear that this had to be sex purely for mutual pleasure. No emotional screw-ups, that's how he'd put it. I liked that idea.

And we were both still very drunk: that had to be in our favour. If guilt-trips kicked in in the morning, we'd have the old chestnut of being too drunk to know what we were doing to fall back on. It was a reassuring safety net.

So, after a while, I said, "Yeah. I'd go for that."

He stood up, the unremarkable package in the front of his tartan briefs showing that his cock was in a similar state of uncertainty about the whole thing as mine was.

He pulled off his tee-shirt and asked, "You wanna try it now?"

I stood up and began to undress as he was. "Yeah. Might as well."

Our tone was conversational: we were making this sound like we were about to play a game of darts or something. Maybe that was our way of dealing with the magnitude of it.

He looked over at me and smiled. "Your place or mine?"

It took me a few seconds to realise he was asking which bed we ought to do it on. When I understood him, I muttered, "Oh, right. Whichever..."

Then he asked, with his hands on the hips of his briefs, "Should I take these off?"

I shrugged, again distractedly as though he was asking if he could have the first throw of darts, and said, "Yeah. I guess..."

He pulled off his briefs and his cock, small and thin, flopped out into the dense bush covering his balls. Then he climbed onto my bed and lay on it, his hands behind his head. He opened his legs slightly and his scrotum dropped downward into the black fuzz of hair between his thighs, leading my thoughts down towards his unseen arsehole. The image of me fucking him down there flashed through my mind again, this time becoming even more appealing.

He saw me looking intently at him and giggled, covering his cock and balls with both hands. "Stop looking at me! I'm already totally freaked out...!"

I smiled and pulled off my own briefs. Now it was his turn to stare at my crotch with my limp cock dangling as unimpressively as his had. I said, "I was just thinking how similar we are. How this is going to be just like sucking my own dick..."

He uncovered himself and looked at his cock and then mine. "Yeah... they are pretty much the same..."

I got on the bed next to him and he said, through a trickle of nervous laughter, "I haven't a fuckin' clue what to do..."

I laughed too and then rolled on my side to face him. It was going to be up to me to take the lead; that was becoming obvious. I was the older brother and I was, in all probability, the more experienced. I pulled him towards me and our chests touched.

Then I put my arms around his back and he did the same to me. Now our cocks were gently flopping against each other.

He was really uncomfortable with this. No doubt he hadn't expected to be - he'd assumed, once we'd got past the discussion and had undressed, that it would all go really well and we'd be sucking each other's cocks like a couple of pros in next to no time - but now that we were here, lying naked together, he didn't seem to know where to put his hands, what to do with his legs and where his face should be.

He tried to kiss me on the lips at one point, but I gently pushed him back and whispered, "We agreed, Chaz - no emotional screw-ups..."

He nodded and his cheeks went a little pink.

I set about trying to help him relax and become less awkward the situation. I slowly caressed his back, running my fingers down the smooth curve of his spine to the top of his bum and then across his buttocks to the hairy tops of his thighs. He liked that and tried to do the same to me, but his fingers weren't happy to be on such unfamiliar territory and he seemed reluctant to do anything more with my arse than to brush his hand hastily across it.

I gently tickled his balls and ran my lips across his chest, hesitating at each nipple to lick and run my tongue over it. As I did that, I began to feel his cock stiffen.

He laughed, still nervously, "You're pretty good, Ollie... have you done this before?"

I didn't answer him directly. I said, "Having this done to me is the kind of stuff that turns me on, mate. I figured it'd be the same for you..."

He pressed his cock against me, maybe in case I hadn't been aware of how hard it was becoming, and said, "Looks like you hit the bullseye..."

I worked my mouth down past across his hairless, athletic stomach, down towards his developing erection. Even as I breathed on it, it grew an inch or so, and when I licked the tip of it, it throbbed to full size. He was about seven inches long, like me, but the stem was a little thinner than mine. I pressed my face into his thick, pubic bush, inhaling the sharp, pungeant smells of his crotch that were similar, yet distinctly different, to my own. The main drift of it was the same as mine - the thick odour of my pubic sweat and the musky scent of my precum - but Chaz's version had unmistakable shades and undertones that were all his own.

At first, I used my hand on him, masturbating him a little, as I licked and sucked at the round purple head of his cock. He moaned his appreciation and took my head in his hands, guiding me further onto his cock and easing me into a rhythm. Soon I took my hand away and used only my mouth. With one hand I stroked his balls; with the other I massaged my own now engorged and demanding cock.

He chuckled something like, "Way to go, Ollie," as my mouth began to pump his cock, working at it roughly and rapidly with my lips, my tongue and as much of my throat as I could manage. Precum trickled from his piss-slit, wetting my tongue and tickling my throat. I wondered if my own cock was so copious.

After a few minutes, he pulled back. "Whoa... whoa... getting close, there... I think we might need to swap over..." He laughed again and by now it was sounding something like genuine.

So that was my second 'first' at Newquay. I must say Chaz's early attempts to perform oral sex on me wouldn't exactly rank among my top ten pleasurable experiences - in fact his method was more gynaecological than sensual - but the fact alone that it was him doing it to me made it feel surprisingly nice. He was my little brother and - far from that making the experience disturbing, as I might have expected - it gave the situation an air of warmth and tenderness that seemed to bring us closer together.

As our experiments with one another continued, we found ourselves making jokes about the amount of my pubic hair Chaz seemed to get in his mouth and laughing about how his attempts to play with my balls usually ended up bringing tears of pain to my eyes. Our manner became as unaffected and natural as if we were laughing at his ineptness at cricket or at knocking back whiskey chasers. In fact, by the end of the night, as we were both about to reach our climaxes while masturbating ourselves and hugging each other, we were totally comfortable about being so intimate with each other and all traces of stilted embarrassment had long disappeared.

The next morning, as we showered and got dressed, we were also thankfully free of awkwardness. We both had hangovers, which probably helped matters by dulling our reactions, but we chatted openly and freely about the night before and decided that we'd just get on with our lives, as mates and brothers, as we always had. I didn't tell him that, at about six o'clock in the morning, I'd awoken in disbelief at what we'd done and had lain for an hour worrying that this would be the end of our relationship, nor that the fact we could be so calm about it - laughing, even, at some of the more farcical moments - made me so pleased I could have hugged him.

We didn't have any other sexual experiences together at Newquay - in fact, as my weekend there with Chaz was the last time I visited the place, I haven't done anything there since - but it didn't take long for one of us (me, I think) to suggest a repeat performance.

And I guess I'll tell you about that too. Sometime.