With one last look at the deplorable condition of my bed I took his hand, led him from my bedroom and down the hall to Paul’s bedroom. My shouts became words as I shouted “Oh god…Oh Jesus…” as my body continued to shake with wave after wave of my climax. As the afternoon began to wane I finally broke our silence and said “we can’t stay here forever, bro.”
“Yes we can,” and I laughed to hear my brother’s humor returning. Our new feelings began, grew, and began to overwhelm us so that we had to learn new skills, learning to hide those feelings, learning almost forensic care in leaving nothing, no clues that might alert our parents. I didn’t ask his source but was happy to perform the ritual of rolling a fresh condom down my brother’s six-inch erection. If you were to ask a simple clinical question: “how many times?” I would have to ask you to define “times” because there were many, many instances where our lovemaking included multiple couplings.
