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Finn or I didn’t speak of the video for weeks. I knew his reserve wasn’t due to any second thoughts, but rather a new addition to the arsenal of taunts that he could drop whenever he wanted to hit me with a bombshell; the mere fact I hadn’t mentioned it indicated that it obviously wasn’t enough of an issue to confront him with, so there was an unspoken understanding of sorts that had established itself off the bat. It was this and a particular shift in my behaviour following Finn’s return – first unconscious, then conscious – that undoubtedly tipped him off as to me being complicit in this newfound emasculation.
Making eye contact with Finn was difficult, as was exchanging more than a few words without feeling the colour automatically flood my cheeks. We didn’t typically hold indepth conversations anyway, but now that I’d been reduced to something considerably more timid and selfconscious, I was even less inclined to be talkative, tending to rush through my responses even as I feigned being casual. Every time I looked up to face him, I didn’t see my little bro, but a grown man I was sharing the house with… one whose manhood was beyond dispute and could be readily displayed at a whim. Whenever he “wrestled” me, I’d put up no fight – not that I had been before, but now I almost anticipated it, albeit with the same tinge of nervousness I got from facing him. On one such occasion he called me his “little bitch” and instead of firing back or hitting him with an eyeroll I let out a meek laugh that was really more of a giggle. “You like that, eh?” He goaded, which I pretended not to hear.
I’d started to do minute tasks for him, simple things like taking dirty dishes out to the sink or picking up used towels, all without explicitly begging to be noticed or even really letting him know. When he did happen to catch me cleaning up a mess or stepping in to take over a trivial chore meant for him, I’d get a “cheers, bro” and not much more. My efforts eventually paid off, though, as it seemed Finn had picked up on this recent order of things and figured he’d take advantage.
“Sarah’s coming over this arvo and my room’s messy as shit. Think you can give it a onceover?”
“Can’t you do it?”
“I’m headed out soon, bro. Just get the worst of it. Mostly the shit on the floor. Oh, and make my bed.”
It was rare that Finn even let me past his bedroom door, let alone extended an invitation. Needless to say, I accepted with a silent eagerness, figuring I’d take the opportunity to snoop around and see what I could find out about my little bro, the types of things that only an exploration of the space he lived and slept in could reveal.
I waited until he was out the door to get started, immediately surprised that the place wasn’t a total tip – the “worst of it” was mainly discarded clothing in need of the laundry, which I gathered in a pile by the door before performing a cursory search of his drawers. The only couple of items worth hiding were a baggy of weed (no surprises; I’d smelled the stuff on him before) and a fleshlight, which I had no idea how he’d acquired – knowing his demeanor, though, along with the fact he looked older than most eighteenyearolds I knew, he could probably walk into a shop and not even get ID’d. He’d been with Sarah for about three months, so he’d surely purchased it before then; I wondered how many times he’d used it and how he managed to go about cleaning it, if he’d even bothered. I shoved it back inside the drawer I’d taken it out of without further inspection and turned to leave.
As I bent down to pick up the laundry pile, Finn’s checkered blue boxers caught my eye. There’d been many an evening when he wouldn’t even bother with shorts and would instead lounge around in his undergarments, same with most of the time he spent in his room, or when the parents were out and it was just him and I in the house. He’d done away with briefs years ago, and for good reason – what he was packing would be bursting out the seams, so the roominess of boxers wasn’t just a more comfortable substitute, but also gave him some leeway to sport them around the house without being too crude. Of course, I could still notice his bulge, but that was neither here nor there.
The thought suddenly occurred to me to pick up the boxers and give them a sniff. I knew Finn’s scent, the sickly smell of too much Axe masking that teenage odor and the slightest everpresent hint of aftershave, but the thought of his hefty hog and two festering melons emanating their pheromones, absorbed by the fabric of his boxers sometimes for days on end, put a cloud over my mind that had me struggling to justify what I was about to do. Just a quick whiff, I thought, and brought the boxers to my face.
The essence overwhelmed me, a heavy, pungent sweatmusk with a distinct undertone of saltiness, somehow equal parts eyewatering and satisfyingly primal… I found myself going in for a second, deeper inhale through my nostrils, and with the following few sniffs I was hit with a definitive wave of raw stimulation. It was as if I was experiencing horniness for the very first time, a desperate, exhilarating awareness that had me block out my surroundings and force only one thought into my mind.
My heart racing, I reached down to pull open the bottom drawer and retrieved the fleshlight, positioning myself on my back atop Finn’s freshly made bed. My shorts came down and my little soldier popped out, its tip bright red and smeared with slick, transparent fluid. With every pump of my heart the veins in my dick throbbed.
I was about to fuck Finn’s used fleshlight, all while getting off to the smell of his dirty boxers… it hadn’t occurred to me this plainly the pathetic depths I’d reached, but they were doing nothing to deter me now.
Finn had obviously cleaned it after use, but I didn’t need a literal coat of cum for the idea of a hole where my brother’s had been to excite me just the same. His seven, potentially eightinch monster, hitting depths of the tube that mine couldn’t reach, stretching the silicone lips apart with a girth that would have them gripping onto his lubedup foreskin… I felt like I could cum buckets, but I had no doubt Finn could put me to shame even in that department.
It took under a minute of boxer sniffing and fleshlight pumping to push me over the edge. I exploded inside the rubber chasm, stifling a moan as the load proceeded to cover my obscured dick. I took a moment to lay there, eyes on the ceiling, postnut clarity beginning to creep in – and that’s when I heard him.
“Bro, where are you?”
It was Finn. He was upstairs, obviously checking my room, about to head towards his. Why is he back so soon? He obviously forgot something… fuck! I released my nowfloppy member from the embrace of the fleshlight, wincing as my mess dripped out from inside it. A box of tissues sat on the drawer set beside the bed; I frantically grabbed a handful and wiped up the fluid from my stomach in one rushed motion, quickly soaking up what I could from the toy’s entrance before yanking my shorts back up to my waist. Finn’s footsteps were approaching, I could hear them getting closer… the fleshlight went away, the drawer was shut… and the bedroom door opened.
“Sorry, bro. I forgot my charger,” Finn stopped. “What are you up to?”
I realized I still had Finn’s boxers gripped in my hand. Shit, I forgot to toss them back in the pile…
“Uhh… laundry.” I indicated to the pile near the door. “Just finishing it up now.”
Finn looked down to where I mentioned. “Oh.” I winced internally, feeling as much like a deer in headlights as I probably appeared. “Well, I’m after that charger I let you borrow. Where’d you put it?”
“Did you check my desk draw? The one closest to the door.”
“Nah.” He turned to leave. “Good job, by the way. Might have to start getting you to do more around here!”
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