What is the vanishing point of sex and lucidity?
Shortly after my 18th birthday was the first time. It was comfortable on the couch with my head in my older brother's lap, rolling my cheek so gently up and down his hardened cock, his rough fingertips lightly brushing my temple as his hand rested on my soft blonde ponytail.
Neither one of us knew what really existed on the other side of the blanket separating us, but there was no denying that the rhythm and intensity of that infinitesimal rolling pressure, was synced with his caress. I was feigning sleep, was it working, or was I fooling us both?
It began with the light gyration of my head. He exhaled a soft whisper.
"Mmm ..."
His fingers in my hair slightly increase their speed. I feel his cock begin to swell from under the blanket against my cheek.
"God ..." Almost inaudible. I am unsure if it is only my imagination.
I increase the pressure of my head against him, feeling his fingers press just a little more firmly.
A breath faintly escapes his lips. "Yeah ... that ... that's ..."
He pushes himself up against me, his fingers speed up just a little bit as they blend strands of my hair.
"Mmm—oh ... oh yes ..." His whisper is so faint, perhaps only to be heard by himself.
I slowly transition from a gyration to a straight up and down motion so that the back of my head comes to a stop at the tip of his cock. I press down with several short, milking strokes before slowly rolling my head back down his hard shaft. My heart jumps. I think I might have heard my name.
"Wait—I'm ... oh yeah Km ... yeah mmm yeah ..."
He continues to softly moan under his breath as I roll my cheek over his hard cock and come to a stop, face down with my lips pressing against the base. I am fighting to control myself. I bite at his cock with my lips through the blanket as if by reflex. His whisper grows louder as he strains to contain it.
"Mmph! Kim-Kimmy I can't ... fucking ... ohh ... oh goddamn ..."
His hand presses the back of my head. I help him to ejaculate with short back and forth pumps with my lips as they are being held against the base. His whisper makes intermittent contact with his vocal cords as he tenses and jerks.
"I-I'm gon ..." He grasps my head tightly. " Kimmy, I'm cumming." He is holding me down.
I can feel the throbbing muscles of his veined pole as they flex and squirt cum into his pants. I feel his hands continue to hold me in place until it fades. He loosens and exhales slowly.
He knew it happened. I knew it happened. A real, physical event, throbbing and jerking against my cheek, pulsing and undulating as my lips were pressed against the blanket. The absence of mutuality and acknowledgment caused an electrifying tension during every moment of the days that followed. A bizarre tolerance developed, but there was still unfinished business...
Several weeks had passed, and I found myself frequently attempting to steer our conversations toward any topic where sexual overtones could be introduced.
"Have you ever been to a bachelor party?" I asked my brother, as he sifted through a large box of videotapes he bought at a garage sale earlier that day.
"No." He does not look up from the tape he is closely examining. After brief silent standoff he yields, "Why do you ask?" but he does not break his fascination with the cassette in his hands.
"Oh, I don't know, my friend said her older brother went to one, and they had this woman dressed as a nurse with a gigantic hypoderm— "
It's obvious that I'm not even in the peripheral of his concern. He is absorbed by whatever is printed on the tape's bright pink sleeve.
"Steve, are you listening to me?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm listening ... Jesus Christ, it's cold tonight," he said.
He tossed the tape to the side, separate from the others he was sorting through, and rapidly rubbed his palms together, stopping briefly to blow clouds of condensed vapor into them.
"So yeah, you said there was a gigantic nurse and--"
I cut him off. I knew he wasn't listening.
"No! My friend said her ... oh, skip it." I pointed at the pink-sleeved tape he had been examining.
"What is it about that tape that was so interesting?" I asked.
He looked around. "What tape?" He picked up the tape I was pointing at. "Oh, this? It's just a tape."
"Can I see?" I held my hand out. An icy draft swept under the comforter. I pulled it around my extended arm to seal out the cold.
He handed me the tape, admitting, "It's a por--It's an 'adult movie.' " He quickly grabbed another tape without looking at it, and inserted it into the deck.
"Cool! A 'porno!' " I exclaimed. I read the sleeve. "Ooo! 'Three Men and a Maybe.' " I slid the tape out of its sleeve. "Rambo?"
"What?" He whirled around to the screen as the copyright warning changed to a rapid assortment of clips depicting various sexual activities. "Fuck!"
I giggled as he franticly jabbed at the front panel. "Oh, let it play!" I teased him, adding, "What's the matter, scared you'll get a boner?"
"Yeah, right," he said, as the tape ejected.
If he only knew, I thought to myself, how many times I've snuck into his room and jerked off to his private collection when he's not around!
He took another tape from the box, slipped off the cover and flipped it over several times before inserting it. He rapidly hugged himself against the cold as he came over to the couch where I was lying. I lifted my head, and rested it in his lap as he sat back down.
"J-Jesus! It's fucking freezing in here!" he said, helping me pull the comforter around us as I rolled on to my side.
I turned and looked up. "Ever seen one of those movies?" I asked.
"What movies? Oh, the porno? Maybe," he said in a very casual tone.
I turned my head back on its side. "You meant 'a porno,' didn't you?" I covered my mouth with my fingers.
"Fine. Yes I have seen 'a porno.' " Suddenly realizing his slip, he bumped his palm against the armrest. "Goddammit!" We both laughed, and he added, "What about you, have you ever seen one?"
"Yup."
"Oh." My candor disarmed him for a moment, but now he seems to be amused. "Okay Kimmy, so tell me, what was in it?"
Oh, this is too good! My heart raced as I prepared myself to recite an excerpt from one of his own tapes. My brain's inner pharmacy had just filled a delightful prescription making an accurate, detailed verbal replay of one's private jerk-off material performed by his very own sister a good idea for any occasion!
"What was in it? What was in the porno I saw? Is that what you want to know?" I could hardly control myself, my pulse pounding in my ears. "The best one was, they had this like ... 'beer maiden,' right? You know, one of those 'German' girls in those like ... 'dresses' and she's got the two long blonde braids ... you know? She's serving beer and—oh, I almost forgot—she has these huge gigantic tits and they're at this like ... festival and then this guy comes up and he's all feeling her up and ... and he's all like making out ... you know?
I paused a moment without looking up to see if he'd make a noise or something. He was silent.
I kept going, my speech accelerating as I went on. "Then they're in this like ... bedroom and the guy takes off his pants and sits on the bed and she gets down on her knees and—and she takes the guy's dick and puts it in her mouth ... right? So she's got—she's got it in her mouth and she goes down and swallows the whole thing and—"
"Kimmy!" My brother's voice jarred me. "Keep your voice down. Jesus fucking Christ," he warned.
Ho-ho! Listen to 'Greg Brady,' admonishing his sister, 'Marsha!'
"Sorry!" I brought my voice to just above a whisper.
"So anyway," I continued, "she—she swallows the whole thing, and then she starts going up and down on it. Up and down. Up and down and then ... and then they show it up real close and you can see her spit running down the guy's dick ... right?
Then the guy ... he starts squeezing her tits with both hands and then he ... and then he grabs her head."
I looked up to see that my brother had leaned forward, listening intently. I lowered my voice to a barely audible whisper. I rolled from my side on to my back. There was a brief pause as we stared at each other silently.
I lidded my eyes and brought my voice even lower. "Hey."
He leaned closer. I brought my voice so low, I was almost silently mouthing the words.
"You like this don't you?" I rested my teeth on my lower lip.
He brought his face in so close, our noses touched. A cyclops eye blinked at me.
"So, 'Siskel and Ebert,' "—The eye looked left, right, then back at me—" where did you see this movie?"
I swallowed hard, and grinned weakly. He sat up and smiled at me.
"It's cool," he said. He put his palms together and tapped his index fingers. "I've actually known about your little 'viewings' for a long time."