Brothers

I am five years older than my brother. Our parents divorced when I was twelve and my brother was seven. Unusually, I went with our mother, he with our father. It made sense in that I took after my mother whereas he was unmistakably our father's son.

I, Jeremy, am now twenty-four years old. I am five feet ten inches tall and slim. I weigh about 140 pounds (a bit more when I indulge my liking for chocolate). My face has a feminine cast and I have large brown eyes, delicately shaped eye-brows and brown hair, which falls naturally in waves, as my mother's did. I realised years ago that I am attracted to female clothing and men in more or less equal measure. I often dress at home but I have never gone out in public and I have never had a boyfriend; I am virgin. In other words, I am a closeted, gay, screwed-up transvestite. I earn my living in advertising, on the creative side, and work mainly from home, so I am able to spend many of my days as a woman, which is when I am at my happiest, though, more and more, I long for a sexual relationship with a virile man.

I enjoy the whole business of making myself into the woman I know myself to be. I love shaving every bit of my body, particularly my bush, cock and balls to make a really smooth clity and then securing my male bits between my legs with a tight pair of panties. I love the feeling as I draw my stockings up my smooth legs and fasten the lacy tops to my suspender belt. I put on my bra, being careful to push up my breasts and, sometimes, I enhance my cleavage with a touch of makeup. Making up my face follows. I tend to keep my makeup light; my facial hair is blond and fine so I have no real shadow to cover, so, except on the rare days when I decide on an elaborate toilette, it is mainly a matter of applying a brushing of powder over a minimal base, eye-shadow, perhaps mascara, and lipstick . I arrange my hair. I select a pair of shoes, sometimes with heels, sometimes not, and then I am ready for my day as a working girl. At night I either sleep naked or I wear a short see-through nighty, which will ride up easily. I have a selection of dildos.

My brother, Karl, is a rugby playing hunk like our father. He is six feet two inches tall and weighs nearly 200 pounds. Our father died over a year ago and our mother died whilst I was in college. Each of them left their money for us to receive, divided equally between us, when we reached twenty-one. I was already of age when our mother died and, with her bequest, I bought an apartment with views over the river and park.

Our parents had insisted that, as we were growing up, we spend at least a month in each other's company with one or other of them each year, so we were not strangers, but we had nothing in common except our parentage. I felt some slight affection for my younger brother and I imagined that his feelings about me were equally lukewarm..

Karl has gained an engineering apprenticeship in the city where I live, so, it seemed to me, I had to offer him accommodation until he settled and sorted out something for himself. It would mean that my feminine life would have to go on hold in the evenings, but I should still be able to dress during the day when he would be out at work. Depressing but unavoidable in the circumstances. I hoped it wouldn't be for long.

I hadn't seen Karl since our father's funeral and then we had both been too involved with fending off the sickly reminiscences and condolences of our legion of relations to take much notice of each other.

We had arranged that he would arrive early one evening in time for dinner. I was a good, though not spectacular, cook, and I thought it best if we could get to know each other in private to begin with. When I opened the front door of my apartment to him I almost fell on my knees and worshipped. He was gorgeous. Even in a jacket and trousers which had seen much better days I could tell that my brother had become the most beautiful, sexy man I had ever clapped eyes on.

To work from the top: he had our father's waving golden hair, his strongly marked, arched eye-brows and his piercing blue eyes. Karl's nose was classically aquiline and his lips were strong, firm and masculine. His face was that of a god in a book of Norse myths. His shoulders could have held up the world; his chest was broad, with magnificently defined pecs and a six pack his tatty checked shirt did nothing to disguise; a mat of golden chest hair peeked out from his open collar; his hips were narrow but shapely. When he deposited his luggage and turned around to take in the view of the living room, I saw that his buttocks were tight and I immediately imagined dimpled muscles swelling into his magnificent thighs and calves. I fell in love at once. But that raised a problem, or rather several problems, as you can, no doubt, imagine. The first being that I needed to disguise a raging hard-on.

'Where do you want me?' he asked.

'What?'

'Where shall I put my stuff? Where am I sleeping?'

'Oh, sorry. I was in the middle of seeing to a client on-line. Let's start again. Hello, Karl.'

'Hello, Jeremy.'

'Bring your luggage in here,' I said, opening the door to what would be his bedroom for the short time he was staying. I had made up the bed and laid out towels for him.

As he started hanging up his suits and jackets and folding his clothes into his chest of drawers he looked over his shoulder at me and said, 'I really appreciate this, Jer.. I hope we can get to know each other better. I'll try not to do anything to get in the way of the life you've made for yourself. Just tell me if you want me to make myself scarce any time.'

'What a sweet guy,' I thought. 'There's nothing to disturb in the way he means but he's already blown my existing life out of the water.'

''Dinner's in the oven,' I said. 'I hope you like lasagne.'

'Favourite,' he said and I thought 'He's still only a boy, despite his looks and his nineteen years on this earth. I shall have to be very careful. He is my brother and I don't want to frighten him or make him uncomfortable around me.'

I smiled and said, 'Make yourself at home and the food will be on the table.'

I went back into the living room and had to lean up against the sideboard. I felt faint with the vision of this stunning brother of mine. Then I went into the kitchen and served out our meal.

That night, after he had gone to bed, I lay on my bed, imagining my little brother was fucking the living daylights out of me. I came like a fountain from using my hands, as I should like him to use his, in working my cock and balls, before I pushed my favourite dildo into my pussy, making believe it was his cock entering me and filling me with his baby batter and making me his girl. At which point I came again.

*****

We soon got into a regular pattern. It was based on the pattern I had developed for myself. I made breakfast and settled down to my work whilst Karl went off to his work. After Karl had gone out I would dress and live my day as a woman, then prepare our evening meal and change into my male clothing before Karl got home. I liked to be in my female clothes for the food preparation because I could pretend I was a wife waiting for her husband. Karl always made a late- night drink and snack for us.

I had expected that a boy of Karl's age would want to be out every night but he seemed quite content staying in, reading and watching television with me. For two or three weeks he became obsessed with 1950s situation comedies, where the husband always called out, 'Honey, I'm home,' when he got in from work. Karl took to doing the same thing which allowed me to respond, 'I'm in here, darling,' as the wife always did. Karl had no idea how turned on I was by this little exchange.

He found an amateur rugby team which played on Saturday afternoons. In the morning he helped me with shopping. We had a light lunch out and then, if there was a match, rather than just training, I went with him to watch. I should have liked to watch him training too but realised that the team would think that odd. However, I soon found that I benefited from his Saturday rugby in another way. For several years I had sent my washing to a laundry but I always washed my flimsies by hand and dried and ironed them at home. Now I added Karl's underpants and his jockstrap, which he wore under his rugby shorts, to my hand-wash items. The first time I picked his jockstrap out of the laundry basket the smell of him was more than I could resist. I pushed my nose into the fabric which had held his cock and balls and inhaled as deeply as I could. I licked at the place where I thought his piss slit had been and was rewarded with such a taste and smell of manhood I came in my panties.

As you can tell I was utterly infatuated with my little brother.

As time went by we both came to accept that he was not looking for his own place. I asked him what he would like for his approaching twentieth birthday and I was touched when he said, 'Nothing, except will you allow me to take you out for a special dinner.'

'That is a present to me, not to you.'

'I want to say thank you for the months of meals and for the way you have taken me into your home. You obviously have cut down your social life to nothing to make me comfortable.'

'Karl, most of my life has always been work. I don't have a social life in the way you mean, so I'm missing nothing, and I have the pleasure of your company.'

'But you're a good looking man. Don't you have a boy friend?'

It took me a moment to register what he had just asked.

'How do you know I'm gay?' I asked.

Karl looked surprised. 'I've known for ages. Was it supposed to be a secret?'

'But how did you know?'

'Dad told me when I was sixteen and I came out to him.'

'So dad knew about me? And are you saying that you're gay as well?'

'Yes and yes.'

'And what was dad's reaction?'

'He said, "What the fucking hell is wrong with my genes?" and he stamped about a bit. Then, when he calmed down and I told him to stop blaming himself, he said he thought it was a pity because he would have liked to have grandkids. After that he was cool about it, at least whilst I was around, but I think secretly it took him some time to accept it.'

I felt a flood of regret wash over me because I had never discussed my sexuality with my father or my mother and so I had never really known either of them in the way Karl had known our father, though clearly dad had known me far better than I imagined.

'Did mum know you're gay,' I asked.

'No, but then I wasn't absolutely sure until after she'd died. I never had the chance to tell her.'

For the first time in my adult life I started to cry and having started I couldn't stop. Karl took me in his arms and said, 'Don't Jer, please. What are you crying about?'

'You're so much braver than me. I'm the one who should be helping you to come to terms with yourself but, instead, you're so beautiful and together and I'm a cowardly mess. I've been hiding myself from everybody. I thought I was OK. But I'm useless and I'm lonely and I deserve to be.'

'You've got me, now.'

'Don't say that. You haven't seen the real me. You may hate it.'

'It?'

'Stay here. I am going to show you the real me. Then see what you think.'

I went into my bedroom. I put on my make up and did my hair. I chose skin coloured stockings, suspender belt, panties and bra and a white silk sheath dress with short sleeves and a rather daring neckline, and a pair of court shoes in flesh coloured satin. I looked at myself in the mirror, took a deep breath and walked into the living room.

Karl's mouth fell open; his eyes goggled and I was turning to blunder back into my bedroom, thinking he was about to burst out laughing, when he grabbed my arm and said, 'God almighty. You are so beautiful. Please, Jer., don't go. Let's just sit together till I get used to having such a gorgeous girl as a brother. Jesus. You are one incredibly sexy lady.'

I could feel myself almost simpering as I sat down next to him. He continued to hold my arm until I was settled, then he took hold of my hand.

'Do you have a fem name?' he asked.

'I call myself Jenny,' I said.

'Jenny.' He rolled the name round his mind and said, 'I like it. Jenny. Jenny, may I kiss you, please?'

Rather awkwardly we stood. I rested one hand against his chest and slid my other arm round him. He took me in his arms; he leant his face down to mine and kissed me on the lips.'

I said, 'This is new for me.'

'And for me,' he replied.

'You mean you have never had anybody, too?'

My little brother, who overtopped me by a head and looked like any woman's wet dream come to life, nodded.

Like two babes in the wood we started to make out and to explore each other. Despite some initial clumsiness our loving came so naturally to us that, when he unzipped my dress and I unbuttoned his shirt and we removed each other's clothes and encountered our naked flesh, everything had become one fluid movement until he lifted me up and carried me into his bedroom.

He sat me down on his bed, lowered himself beside me, placed his arm around my waist, kissed my ear and, momentarily, his tongue entered the whorl of my ear and sent goose-bumps over my skin, then he kissed my eyelids one after the other, before returning to explore my lips and tongue. Our breathing was becoming quick and shallow, when he said, 'Jenny, I want to make love to you. May I, please?'

At that stage, even in passion, he was so polite and we were so innocent, I felt we were at the beginning of the world and all things were new, and, looking into his beautiful eyes, I said, 'Yes, please, my darling.'

That night I became my brother's wife. I felt, for the first time, the pain and the joy of being taken by a man. It was all very basic, for we were finding our way together: he put me on my front with a pillow under me and my buttocks sticking up; he licked my pussy, then lubed me up and inserted a finger into my rosebud. I lubed his cock and he tried to enter my cunt. My sphincter resisted and it took several attempts before he won his way in. Once in he let me recover before he pushed further. Slowly my pain gave way to the most wonderful feeling I had known so far in the whole of my life. I felt full and complete. As he started to fuck me he hit my prostate and I shuddered with the intoxication of being a woman whose man is asserting his possession of her. Then the whole experience reached its zenith. He ploughed into me; my cunt walls massaged his cock as he shot his man juice into my womb and I shrieked with the delight and marvel of it as he continued to shoot his baby batter into my pulsing depths.

It was only later that night as I leant on one elbow studying the beauty of my sleeping husband, this Adonis who had asked me to be his wife and whom I had accepted, that it came to me that he, the younger brother, was now the master of the elder and that I, the elder, was entranced and delighted for it to be so. I kissed his chest and, guided by his scent I found my way into his pit, where I inhaled his masculinity before licking his sweat and savouring its taste on my tongue. He stirred and half awoke. He pulled me into his embrace, took my clitie into one of his large hands and gave me a love bite on my neck. Then, waking more completely, he turned me on my back, positioned himself between my legs, which he pulled up onto his shoulders, and, using spit as lube, he rammed his magnificent fuck pole deep into me and filled me again with his sperm. As he pulled out I took his cock into my mouth and licked every drop of cum, wasting nothing.

My brother/husband lay on me, supporting his weight on his elbows but covering my slight, smooth body with his big, hairy body. He looked into my eyes and said, 'I love you, my little girly wife.'

'I love you, my big manly husband,' I replied.