Author: Alex, from Portugal E-mail: port_pass@hotmail.com
Feedback much appreciated, off course.
Story with non-consensual sex between males. Don't read it if you're not legally allowed to or if it might disturb you (I don't include any of those nice disturbances in your crotches, of course).
Part 4 -- What a way to start the day!
I woke up like it was just another day, but I was quickly reminded of the events of the eve by my sore, raped throat and the ache in my legs muscles from all the time I had been forced on my knees. I felt a shiver down my spine thinking of what I would have to face that day.
Then I also recalled the moment when my brother had caught me masturbating naked in front of the mirror. Masturbating... and fingering my arse. And then how it turned me on to hear him jerking off in his bed and how it had aroused me into my own first conscious orgasm.
I considered telling him all about what had happened the day before. We'd never gotten along very well, like I suppose happens with most brothers with a difference in age like ours (five years). But, in spite of all, he was my big brother; he was supposed to stand up for me, even if Vitor was his best friend, right...? Moreover, our parents would already have left for work, so I could easily have a chat with him on this without them suspecting anything.
I looked to his bed. Carlos seemed still sound asleep, so I got up and dragged myself to the toilet and had a piss. I had some trouble peeing, as my pecker was stiff, like it always was in the morning in the last couple of months. Then I looked myself in the mirror and thought of all that had happened.
I felt like the whole world was falling on me. All those disgusting things I had had to do. And why? Why me? Could there be something wrong with me that made them pick on me...? And now I didn't feel ashamed only because of the things I had been made to do. I was also ashamed of what I had done in front of the mirror the previous evening. I mean, I knew about masturbation, the boys at school kept on talking about it. But... fingering my arse? That could't really be normal for a boy, could it? And then the way Carlos looked at me... rubbing his crotch... it so clearly reminded me of Vitor and the others. Could it be that I had this effect even on my own brother?
Then I saw Carlos come into the reflection on the mirror. He sleepily pulled off the t-shirt he had slept with and threw it in the laundry basket. I saw his strong hairy chest. I looked at him through the mirror. He was not extremely defined, even had a very slight belly, but was strong and powerful for a 17yo, with broad shoulders and thick arms. In fact, he was the captain of the local junior handball team. He had a patch of hair over his pecs, that trailed in a narrowing strip down to his navel and into his boxers. He was hairier than Vitor. Then I looked down and realised he had his huge morning hard-on tenting up his boxers. He rubbed it inside and then fished it out through the fly. His cock was now pointing up at a 45º angle with his abs. I had seen his morning hard-on many times, as he was never shy about showing his cock in front of me. But this time I looked at it with a totally different interest. I realised he was nicely endowed, but his penis still seemed somewhat smaller than Vitor's (in fact Carlos is 16 cm/6.5", Vitor is 19 cm/7.5") and looked thinner too. I felt some disappointment; somehow, if my brother had a bigger cock, it would make up for my embarrassing little prick.
Carlos stood in front of the toilet bowl and tried uselessly to piss with his penis fully erect, forcing it to bend down. He moaned from the discomfort of the full bladder eager to be emptied. Then finally, he sighed in relief as the first spurt of yellow urine came out, most of it splashing over the toilet seat and on the floor, before his cock subsided enough for him to be able to aim the steaming gush of his morning piss into the bowl with the characteristic gurgling sound as it hit the water inside.
All along, he hadn't even looked in my direction, ignoring me like I wasn't there, which is what he usually did when he didn't feel like amusing himself by picking on me. I still had my back turned to him, watching it all through the mirror. When he eventually finished pissing, his cock was now fully erect again but he didn't bother to tuck it back in his boxers.
He walked over to me and before I knew it he was right behind me. He was so close that I felt his stiff cock rubbing on me. His arms stretched and his hands rested on the washing basin, on either side of me, in fact trapping me against the basin. As he was taller, I first felt his knob poke on my back, but then he must have bent down his legs and his swollen gland rubbed along my arse-crack, pushing in the pyjama shorts with it. I shamefully kept my eyes down as I let him rub himself on me like that. When I finally looked up into the mirror, I saw a wide shit-eating grin on his face.
He stuck his tongue out in a lewd jeer and I felt his cock move further down. His hard shaft slid between my legs and his hips pressed against my boyish buttocks. Even through the thin cloth of my pyjamas I could feel the heat it radiated and I could also feel his warm breath on my neck. For maybe half a minute, he rubbed his hard-on between my legs, poking up my little ball-sack. The lewd grin on his face turned even more obscene.
My own little dick was stiff as a nail and aching for the relief of my hand (a pleasure it had only so recently discovered) but I didn't dare touch myself, or in fact do any movement. I just stood there, letting my brother rub himself on me, as if I were under some kind of spell, only my heavy breathing clearly betraying how it was affecting me.
Then suddenly he raised his arms, showing me I was allowed to go, but I stayed in the same position, with his cock still rubbing under my crotch. His expression turned to a grin of triumph and I felt even more ashamed, because now I couldn't even argue that it was him that was forcing me to endure it.
Finally, he slapped my butt and pushed me aside. "Move away, kid. I need to shave. That's something you don't have to worry about, is it? Girls don't shave, you only have to worry about getting the period" he snapped at me, with a loud laugh and a humiliating look of contempt. As he looked down his grin turned even wider, and then I realised the effect of his cruel teasing was clearly visible in a big stain in my shorts. I had shot my little load without even realising it.
I ran out of the toilet and back into our room. I sat on the bed, crying. I felt angry at him, humiliated, ashamed, scared, a confusing cocktail of feelings. Now I was sure Carlos would only help making my life more miserable, like he always did. I could never turn to him for help. I would have to face that day on my own.
I hurriedly put on my clothes. I tried to eat the breakfast my mom had left prepared for us on the table before leaving. It was hard for me to swallow, both because of the soreness in my throat and how nervous I was, so I just drank a glass of milk. By the time Carlos finished showering and got back to our room to get dressed, I had already ran out the door.