See no evil

gay coming of age, incest

A naïve young man gives his brother a treat.

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See no evil

My brother never became self-conscious when he hit puberty and his body started to change. I guess they told him to expect the changes at the special school he went to, but there was never a point when he suddenly became shy about himself.

I think our mom was the only one who ever cautioned modesty. Hunter was quite happy to walk around the house naked all day. He said he was comfortable and didn’t see the point in getting dressed. But then when he about 9 or 10 years old, mom started insisting that he put clothes on everywhere except our room and the bathroom. He argued against it, but eventually grudgingly agreed to wear his underpants.

I used to call him our little native. He asked why and when I explained it to him, he laughed and took it as a compliment.


As he hit his teens, mom asked him to wear another layer over his underwear. I guess she was kind of embarrassed by his growing bulge, and there were several occasions when he’d walked around in his briefs with a visible boner tenting the pouch.

Our dad had deserted us all years before, leaving us to struggle so that he could shack up with a woman from work.

As a result, it was left to me to explain to Hunter that his boner was not appropriate around mom.

I felt bad doing it; like I was stealing away a part of his innocence. So much of the adult world still sailed over his head and I envied him that.

I was careful in explaining that his boner made mom uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he was doing anything wrong.

“But I like the way it feels!” he protested.

“Course you do, so do I, but women can’t get them so it’s not fair to walk around in front of mom with one.”

It was a lame answer, but he accepted it.

“Can I still have a boner in our room at least?”

“Course you can dude.” I laughed. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to stop them even if you wanted to!”

So, he wore clothes outside our room, and went naked or wore underwear when he was in the bedroom we shared.

I don’t think he ever really understood why mom was uncomfortable seeing him with a boner, but he accepted it, and changed his behaviour out of consideration.


I do remember one incident that really cracked both me and my mom up though. We were all sitting having dinner when 13-year-old Hunter said, “Can I pleased be excused?”

“But you haven’t finished your dinner yet,” mom responded.

“I’ll finish it later.”

“Is there anything wrong?”

“No, I just have a boner. Josh said you don’t like them so I’m going to my bedroom.”

Without thinking mom asked, “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to listen to music till it goes away.”

Mom smiled so wide I thought her face was going to crack. Her relief was palpable.

“Okay honey, you’re excused.”

He stood, a boner tenting the front of his joggers, not bothering to hide it, and walked out of the room.

When he was gone, mom said, “What was THAT about?!”

“I told him the reason he had to start wearing more than just underpants is because you were uncomfortable seeing his boner.”

Mom grinned.

“Well yes, that’s true I guess, but he does know I don’t have x-ray vision right? I mean, I can’t see through the table!”

She paused then said, “Do you think he knows what to do with it yet? Has he, umm, started…”

She timidly mimed a slow jacking hand at her side, as though she was hiding something shameful.

“Jacking off? No, I don’t think so. At least not that I can tell.”


There were several more occasions when Hunter just announced that he had a boner and left to wait it out in our room. To his mind, it was the polite thing to do. It was the most natural thing in the world to him, and neither me nor mom had the heart to explain that most teens did not announce their boners to their mothers.


I decided not to push it in teaching him what to do with his boners, rather I decided to leave it until he discovered it naturally. In retrospect, I wonder if I was being cruel, leaving him with all those unresolved hard-ons, and no clue how to relieve his horniness.



I used to love watching porn. Most of it was not worth listening to so I kept the headphones plugged in just in case. On a number of occasions, I’d have a sneaky wank sitting in my desk chair with my back turned to him.

One time he said, “What are you doing?”

I slowed what I was doing.

“What do you mean?”

“I can hear a rubbing noise.”

“Oh, I’m just massaging myself.”

It wasn’t a total lie.


“It’s good for relieving stress after a long day.”

“Can you massage me?”

“Um, nah sorry.”

He looked positively crestfallen and I felt guilty.

“It’s special type of massage. I don’t think you’re old enough. Maybe when you’re older.”


He was 14 when he figured out how to do his own “special massage”. He was laying on his bed with his eyes shut, naked, as he often was in our room. He was listening to a TV show – Stranger Things I think. I always wondered how much he got out of TV without being able to see, but he seemed to enjoy it.

I glanced over and he had quite the boner. Impressively large, rising from a dark brown bush, and with way heavier balls than mine drooping between his legs in a dark bag.

He was idly toying with it, very slowly pulling his hand up and down, enjoying the sensation as his knuckles bumped back and forth across the head. His fist slowly increased in speed. I could see him gripping tighter as well, and he was breathing audibly heavily now. Suddenly, he started thrusting his hips up into his fist and three gobs of cum leapt from his cock. He grunted and his eyes opened in shock, rolling towards the ceiling. He pumped faster, trying to magnify the sensation he was experiencing for the first time. But all too soon, the feelings of pleasure gave way to discomfort and he slowed and stopped.

I gave him a minute to calm his breathing.

“Did you like that?” I asked.

“Did you see?”

“Yeah I was watching.”

That was the advantage of having a blind brother.

“What did you see?”

I smiled. I didn’t want to give him a complex.

“You having fun with your dick. Did you like it?”

He grinned.

“Yeah, I liked it a lot!”

He felt at his chest with the tips of his fingers.

“There’s wet stuff on me.”

“Yeah, it came out of your dick.”

“I peed myself?”

“No, it’s jizz.”

He rubbed the puddle that had collected in the depression of his linea alba with is forefinger.

“It’s sticky.”


He tasted it. I grinned at his curiosity. Growing up without eyesight robbed him of so many of the hang-ups that kids get from each other. Moreover, he often used taste in ways that a sighted person never would.

“How’s it taste?”

“Not like much of anything. Maybe a little bit salty. Have a taste.”

I walked over and swirled a finger in it then tasted it. It was exactly as he’d described but I felt very honoured to be so intimately part of his first orgasm.

“Don’t tell anyone you tasted your jizz. They’d take it the wrong way.”


He trusted me completely and I tried never to lead him wrong. Being blind was such an all-consuming disability for him, robbing him entirely of one dimension of the world, so I tried to always be honest and give him advice that would give him his best chance in the world.

“It came out of my dick?”


“How much?”

“Not a lot, about a spoonful. A teaspoon.”

“Why did it come out?”

“It just does. You play with your dick and after a while you get that great feeling then it comes out. It’s called ‘masturbation’ but most guys call it ‘jacking off’.”

“Do you do it?”


His directness was as disarming as it was embarrassing sometimes.

He grinned.

“Is that your ‘special massage?”

“Yeah, busted. You got me!”

His smile widened.

“How often can I do it?”

“Any time you like. Most guys do it once or twice a day. Your dick is probably sore now, but that goes away then whenever you like, you can do it again.”

“It’s not bad for you to do it too much?”

“Only if you pull your dick off.”

“You can do that?!” he asked in an awed tone.

I burst out laughing.

“Nah, I’m pulling your leg. Do it as much as you like. Just not around other people, especially mom okay?”

He smiled as well. I always thought it was fascinating how blind people used the same expressions as sighted ones to express the same emotions. It disproved any theory that expressions were learned behaviour.


“Stay there, I’ll go get a towel to clean up.”

I walked to the kitchen and collected a couple of pieces of paper towel, then I returned and put them in his hand.

“Here you go.”

He dabbed at where he thought the spunk had landed. He missed a spot higher up on his chest. I waited till he had finished then took the towel from him.

“You missed a spot.”

I rubbed at his chest.

“I’m gonna flush these.”

I walked to the bathroom and when I returned to our room he was gone. I walked into the lounge and mom was there with Greg, a guy from her running club that she had been dating for a little over a year. Hunter was also there fully clothed.

“Hey mom, you’ll never guess what I just learned,” he said.

They both turned to see what he was going to say.

“Oh, what’s that honey?” she asked.

No! No way; he wouldn’t!

“I just learned masturbation. Stuff came out and everything.”

Mom turned bright red and her jaw gaped. I’ve never seen her look so surprised. Greg raised his hand to his face to stifle a snigger. Mom’s jaw moved wordlessly for a few seconds before she could speak.

“Oh, have you darling. That’s wonderful,” she said with forced pleasantness. “Greg’s here now. Maybe we can talk about it later if you like?”

“Hi Greg! Okay mom. But it felt great. Why don’t people just do it all the time?”

Greg spoke up.

“Believe me Hunter, a lot of guys would love to!”

Mom elbowed Greg hard in the ribs and he folded, grinning.

I approached from behind and grabbed Hunter by the elbow, steering him gently from the lounge and back towards the bedroom.

“Hey Hunter, why don’t we go to our room, there’s few things I have to talk to you about RIGHT NOW.”

I looked at mom. I’ve never seen her look so embarrassed… or so grateful for my interception.


The next day, mom gave me a brand new fluffy hand towel.

“Give that to Hunter would you. And can you put it in the wash along with his underwear whenever you think it needs it. I’d really not have to go checking for when it’s been… used.”

I grinned. She really was a great mom. She had very traditional Christian parents but she truly tried her very hardest not to dump her conservative upbringing on us. I loved her so much for that. For trying to make our lives happier than hers had been. Not to give us her hang ups. I think secretly she feared that our father had left because she was so boring. But I disagree. I think he left us because he was an asshole.


I accepted the towel with a grin. Before we parted, mom stopped and looked at me.

“Um, you don’t need a towel do you Payton?”

I grinned.

“Nah thanks mom, I’m good.”

She smiled a little relieved and turned away. Just as she was about to walk through the door to the kitchen I added, “I’ve had my own since I was 13.”

She stopped dead in her tracks for a moment and I grinned at her back. Without turning, she walked on through the door.


I’ve been very careful over the years since then not to make my brother self-conscious about masturbating. He can do it as often as he likes, and in any way he likes, but he has to restrict it to our room or the shower. Oh, and one more thing; he doesn’t talk about it to company, and especially not to mom!



His big reveal to mom was three years ago. Hunter has learned a lot since then. The value of discretion being chief among them. But one thing that has never changed is the fact that he hangs around nude more often than not in the bedroom we still share.


I was lucky, I got to go to a local community college, and now that that’s over, I work for our local free paper in the graphics department. But I still get to come home each night and take care of my little bro. My not so little bro. When he was 15, he confided that his greatest fear was the thought of me leaving home and going to college or moving in with a girlfriend. I told him then that a girlfriend was pretty much out of the question.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not into girls.”

“You don’t like girls? Why not. What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them, and I like them just fine as people. I just don’t like them in that way.”

His brow furrowed.

“What way?”

“The way you have to be into them to get married and have a family. They don’t turn me on or give me a boner.”

“Who does then?”

“I prefer guys.”

It was the first time I’d admitted it to him and I was mildly concerned that it might harm our relationship.

“Oh. Okay.”

I looked at his face. He wasn’t upset or confused. He just accepted it as easily as if I’d told him my favourite colour was blue. I was amazed both at how effortlessly he accepted the information, but also how naïve he was. Surely the guys at his school still talked about this kind of thing? I gave his hair a friendly tussle and he smiled at me then returned to his computer.





Hunter can use a computer – it reads the screen and can describe properly annotated pictures, but it can’t cope with video. Sometimes as a special treat, I’ll watch porn and describe it to him live whilst he jacks off. He’ll ask about details that he finds particularly interesting. In the early days, before I revealed that I was gay, I used to describe straight porn to him, but I pretty soon started to realise that he was always focussed on what was happening to the guys, what they looked like, what their dicks looked like, and that kind of thing.

One day, I started describing gay porn instead. I already liked that kind of thing but it never occurred to me that we might BOTH prefer guys. I started describing two young guys jacking each other. He never commented about the absence of a female, he just sought clarification about what the guys looked like. I told him they both looked about 18. He was 16 at the time.

I described the action as the two boys masturbated then 69ed each other. Hunter had all sorts of questions, and when he came, he came hard with a lot of groaning.

After that, I never bothered with straight porn, and he never asked for it.

I tried out lots of different gay porn, but unsurprisingly it was clear that he was most turned on by boys close to his own age. Over the past year or so, I start to get a pretty good idea of the kind of boys he liked.

Narrating the videos was the best thing I’d ever done. Trying to find the sexiest way to describe the action gave me an appreciation for the action that I never had simply watching for my own amusement, and as I learned what Hunter like, I grew to see the boys through his eyes; his libido.


“What do they look like?” he asked as I described a new pair of boys.

To him, the answer was much different to how I’d answer to anyone else. There was no point describing colour to him. Brown hair or blue eyes were meaningless as he had no frame of reference. Instead, he cared about shapes.

“They’re both quite slim. One of them has the start of a six-pack showing on his stomach. The other one is flat. The skinnier one has a roundish face with a friendly smile. The other one has a strong jaw and a very straight nose.

The one with the six pack has a big bush, and a kind of surfer boy haircut. The other one is cuter. He looks like he’s gonna be the bottom. He’s got freckles and a kind of Justin Bieber haircut.

They’re not hard yet. They’re just kissing and kind of wrestling playfully.”

“What are their dicks like?” he asked.

“They’re both pretty small and uncircumcised with long snouts.”

He smiled. He loved uncircumcised guys but the idea of calling foreskin a snout cracked him up.


We’re both circumcised, so he understands what that means. When I first described the idea of being uncircumcised, he found it hard to visualise.

“So, there’s this extra bit of skin on the end?”

“That’s right.”

“And what’s it like?”

“Ummm, well it’s not really like anything you would know. It’s this wrinkled circle of skin that goes over the end and comes to a small point; more of a cone. It’s really soft and wrinkled.”

You have no idea how hard it is to describe new shapes or textures to a blind person when they have literally no former frame of reference.

“The skin is soft like your nut sack, but not the same.”

I know he was frustrated by my inability to describe it in more detail, and it was a subject we often returned to as he tried to glean more detail. For some reason the thought fascinated him, and I could tell that it turned him on as well. Sometimes during the day, I would try to think of similes to describe a foreskin but everything I came  up with required him to have seen something else.


“They’re rubbing each other now.”


“Between the legs. On their balls. The skinny one has a small round nut sack. The other one’s is a little bit longer but really pink.

The one with the six pack is getting a boner.”

“How big is it now?”

“Below average.”

“Below average short or skinny?”.

“Both. I don’t think it’s close to 5 inches long.

He was currently obsessed with skinny dicks for some reason.

“It’s really pink with a red top.“

I had described blue and pink and red in terms of their temperature. Pink was warm. Red was hot. The colour of passion. Hunter understood them.

He smiled at my description.

“He’s really horny huh?”

“Yeah, his dick looks like mine but much smaller.”


Even though Hunter has the most amazing sensitivity in his fingertips, he always found it hard to use his own penis as a point of comparison. His sense of size and proportion were ruined by his own lust.

One day when I was narrating, he said, “Payton can I feel your dick?”

“What for?”

“So I have something to compare against.”

I smiled. It had never occurred to me that when I said “big or small” he didn’t really know what they meant.


I walked over and stood next to him.

I gripped his wrist and guided his hand to my dick. He gripped me, holding my dick more in his palm. I allowed him to explore my penis for several minutes. If you’ve never been groped by a blind person, I highly recommend you try it. He had the fingers of a piano master, lightly reading every contour, every pore, every hair, storing the sensation for later comparison.

He ran his fingers through my thick pubes and up my treasure trail.

“You’ve got a lot of hair. All the way up your belly.”

He touched his own pubes. They were much more orderly and compact.

He reached beneath with his other hand to my nut sack. We’re both loose hung down there. He found my nuts and gently explored them.

“They’re cold.”

He felt his own.

“Yours too?”

“I guess so yeah. A bit.”

“Yeah they have to stay a bit cooler so they work properly.”

He returned to my dick, feeling his own for comparison.

“You’re smaller than me.”

It was no boast.



Even at the age of 13 his dick was man-sized. I’m sure that was why mom got so embarrassed, seeing the outline of an adult salami and a hefty pair of nuts in her little boy’s boxers. By the age of 16 he was packing a thick 9 inches – a good two inches more than me. I wondered who he had inherited it from. We both had similar enough facial features to be comfortable that we had the same father, but genetics had skipped a generation when it came to his dick. It certainly made me look at grampa in a different way.

“You’re much bigger than most guys.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. A lot of people think a big dick is a good thing.”


“I dunno, I guess ‘cause it makes you seem more manly, and it makes sex better for women.”


“Because it fills them up more I guess.”

I was completely unqualified on the mechanics of sex with females.


He ran his fingertips over my glans, feeling its smoothness, the shape, the corona, the way the two halves curved back to meet at the rear. His other hand was running along my shaft, feeling the veins, the urethral ridge underneath. It was incredibly erotic to feel his light touch reading my dick like he read a book.

“You’re wet, did you cum?” he asked.

“No, it’s precum.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s stuff that comes out before you cum when you feel very horny.”

He smeared a little on his finger tip and licked it.

“What’s it like?” he asked.

I’d tried many times to explain the concept of colour to him but I faltered when it came to colours that I could not describe in terms of temperature.

“It’s clear but cum is kind of white.”

He understood the concept of transparency. The idea of something behind being visible or not was the same to him as solid or absent, with varying degrees of solidity.

“Does it come out of my dick?”

“No not yet. You have to be older I think.”


He seemed disappointed. He rubbed my precum a while longer as though savouring it.

“Is your dick bigger or smaller than most guys?” he asked.

I looked down at my 6 and a half inches.

“Maybe just a little bit longer, but about the same thickness.”

He smiled and slowly pumped my shaft. Ever since then, he’s used my dick as his frame of reference for my narration.


I’ve taught Hunter a lot about masturbation down the years. How to increase his pleasure, how to use denial and edging to make his orgasms stronger, and some techniques for jacking off. I looked up all kinds of techniques on Jackinworld, and any time I see something new in a video on Pornhub, I share it with him.

He’s a much better jacker than I am. He’s like my perfect little masturbation test bed. I tell him something that I’ve seen or read and he immediately tries it. It’s not like he a lot else to occupy his time. If a new technique is good, I’ll be the second to know it. He’s never bothered to hide how he feels.


I continued describing the video, focussing on details I knew he liked. I looked over at him. He was grinding his hips and slowly working his dick, his mouth agape, his blank eyes staring at the ceiling. He was clearly having a great wank.

I stopped narrating and walked over to his bed. I sat and put my hand on the inside of his thigh.

He stopped jacking.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to join in. Just keep jacking.”

It was a first for me. The smallest flicker of a frown crossed his brow then he carried on wanking. I slid my hand up his inner thigh and lightly gripped his hefty nuts. He inhaled sharply. I started twisting them gently, trapping them in the bottom of his sack, alternately squeezing softly then releasing. He let out a little shiver of pleasure.

After a while I stopped and rubbed lube on my palm.

“Why have you stopped?”

“Don’t worry about me, you just keep yourself warmed up.”

He continued pumping slowly. I wrapped my fist around his and jacked him, using shorter strokes that left his glans accessible.

“Keep going like that,” I told him.

He maintained the slow pace and the length of the stroke that I had directed him to take. I reached across with my lubed palm and placed it on top of his helmet, then I started rubbing it in small circle. Hunter gasped.

“Uh oh h h h,” he sighed with a trembling voice. “So sensitive.”

“You like it?”

“Ah huh, yeah,” he panted, his body quivering at the intense sensations radiating out from his glans.

I continued slowly polishing for five minutes, then I took my hand away and started gently tweaking his nipples. He started writhing on his bed as he continued slowly masturbating.

“Can I finish?” he asked.

“Not yet, keep it slow.”

He made a small grimace of frustration. I patted him on the testicles. Not enough to cause real pain, but enough to cause a very mild ache.

“Lift your knees up.”

He lifted his straight legs off the bed.

“Not like that, put the soles of your feet on the bed, but lift your knees.”

I lifted his knees into position.

“Now open your legs a bit wider.”

He did as I asked. I slipped a lubed finger into his hole and started finger fucking him.

“Oh shit!” he said.

His eyes were wide, looking straight up. Often they wandered when he was relaxed or tired, but in that moment I could almost believe he was sighted.

He started to pump his hand faster, using bigger strokes. I poked my middle finger in and pulled it out in time with his fist. He wore an expression as though he was looking at the angels. His eyes were wide, mouth gaping, amazed that he could feel so much pleasure. I pumped his hole faster and switched from his nipples back to his plump balls, twisting them in his sack. His hand was moving lightning fast now. Then suddenly he was coming. A huge rope of cum burst out of his dick in the direction of his chest. A long continuous stream of white. More than I’d ever seen him produce before. I’ve seen horses ejaculating when they’re being milked for breeding. A series of gargantuan piss-like spurts each lasting five seconds, and Hunter came like that. I repeatedly drove my finger against his prostate, pumping the jizz from him in an orgasm of truly epic proportions.

Hunter let out a long loud groan.


“Shhh, mom’s gonna hear!”

He ignored me in a textbook case of auditory exclusion brought about by pleasure. I released his balls and put my hand over his mouth.

“Shhhhh, quiet down dude!”

“Mmmmm mmmmm,” he groaned into my palm, totally lost to his orgasm.


Eventually his fist slowed, and I stopped finger fucking him. He lay gasping for a minute. His chest all the way up to the neck was covered in a vast lake of cum. I would never have believed a human being could produce that much in a single orgasm.

I pulled my finger from his asshole and grabbed his clean up towel, then I thoroughly wiped the semen that drenched his torso, and was now running down his sides to the bed. He lay, knees apart, breathing heavily but otherwise unmoving as I cleaned him.

When I was done, I looked at the towel. It was heavily matted with his cum. No way I was going to put it in the laundry in THAT state. I’d have to give it a rinse tomorrow.

“Good one?” I asked.

“Uhhhhhhh, daaaamn. Damn, damn. That was… that was fucking amazing.”

Hunter rarely swore so I knew he was sincere.

“Hey Hunter, can I ask you a favour?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Can… Can I put my dick in your butt?”

“Your dick? Seriously? Why?”

“I think it would feel sick. Would you mind?”

“Umm, okayyy. It won’t hurt will it?”

“I’ll go real slow. If it starts to hurt I’ll stop right away okay?”


I knelt between his knees. I was already naked and my dick was shiny with precum but there wasn’t enough to fuck with so I lubed the head as well.

I hooked my elbows behind his knees, then lifted them off the bed, drawing him towards me with his ass in the air. I leaned in until the head of my dick touched the crack of his ass, then I reached down and guided my dick between his hairy cheeks to its target. I hooked his knees over my shoulders so that both arms were free, then I gently leaned against him.

He lay there, looking up, seeing nothing, but calmly allowing me to use his body. His virgin hole was tight but I was in no rush. I continued pushing, feeling him soften and stretch, feeling my dick head slowly moving forwards millimetre by millimetre.

“Your dick’s massive,” he said in a low voice.

I replied in an equally quiet voice.

“No more than before. It’s just that your butthole is tight.”


I continued gently pressing until I felt the last of his resistance cease and my helmet slipped into his fortress.

“Is it in?” he asked.

“The top is. I’m gonna push the rest in now.”

“’K,” he replied, suddenly younger than his 17 years.

My cock slid smoothly into him, and I kept going until I was buried to the balls.

“Now it’s in,” I told him.


I worked my upper body forwards until my hands were either side of his head and his ass was facing straight up at the sky. I looked between our legs. His huge cock hung upside down between us. It was thick and brown and his hairy balls dangled to either side like bookends. He was soft now, but even soft he still looked fucking impressive.

I slowly started to move my hips in and out.

“You can NEVER tell anyone about this okay? They wouldn’t understand and I’d get taken away from you.”

“No problem,” he whispered. “It’s our secret.”

Although I was still moving just my pelvis, I fucked him more vigorously now, as I felt my dick getting harder inside him. His dick slowly started to inflate again.

“You feeling horny again little bro?”

He grinned.

I leaned forwards and kissed him on the mouth. It was the first time we had ever kissed mouth to mouth. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me close as we continued to kiss, all the while, my cock was hammering into his tight hole. He kissed the way a man drinks after a month in the desert. He was eager; his lips and tongue voraciously working at mine.

I reached beneath me and found his cock, supporting myself on just one elbow and forearm now. I started pumping it and soon he was rigid again.

His hole was hot and tight and it felt as though it sucked at my cock, clenching each time I pushed into him. I felt my cock sliding past the entrance to his hole, it felt as though it was reading me; measuring my shape and dimensions as his fingertips once had.

We slurped at each other more noisily than I would have liked, lost to our passion, as though this was something we had both been denying ourselves for a long time.

Then I felt myself spurting into him. Not as hard as he had spurted. I hammered my cock home, grunting as I emptied my load into his virgin hole. All the while, pulling rapidly on his cock. I felt something splash against my throat but I kept pumping, synchronising our ecstasy. Then I was done.

I slowed my pumping and raised my face from his, releasing his cock. His eyes were closed. As I suspected, he had dumped another enormous load, but from his inverted position it had landed higher on his chest and throat.

I gave a few final, slow, deep thrusts, then lay on top of him, only my balls on the outside, my cock buried all the way in him.

His thick log dangled, its swollen, dripping, purple head facing his face.

Eventually he opened his eyes. I looked into them. They were brown. It pained me that he could not see me.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“Very much. We can do it again if you like. Any time.”

I smiled. He was so kind-hearted. I leaned forwards and gave him a light kiss on the side of his jizz-coated throat.

“Thanks bro. Now let’s get cleaned up.”

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