There are many reasons I've now decided to start to confess, explain or tell people about my past. But the most compelling reason, is my new found recollection of something that happened to me when I was young. I'll not say how young, because of my own reasons.

Asleep in my bed on a very cold Saturday night, I was awoken by a warm wet feeling on my lips. I knew my parents were out, just as they were most Saturday nights, so I knew it wasn't my mom kissing me. Feeling pressure on my lips, I opened my mouth and felt a long warm hard thick thing enter my mouth. I'm not sure how, I'm really not, but I instinctively began to suck on what entered my mouth. Keeping my eyes shut, but guessing what it was, instead of protesting I carried on sucking on what I then knew to be an erect cock.

The reality of what I was doing, was only enhanced the more I sucked deeper down the shaft of his dick. And knowing sort of who it was, I gave up my mouth for his pleasure. I'd already begun to masturbate myself and had a perculiar way of cumming myself. I'd take out my cock, put my pillow beneath me and fuck it. Many a night I'd gone to sleep with my turned over pillow wet from my own cum. So to have his cock fucking my mouth, I knew he wanted to feel how I felt whan I came and I gave everything during those minutes to make him achieve his orgasm.

Holding my head as he did, it told me he was close to climax and in a totally involuntary action, I let him slide his cock down my throat. It was strange at first to have his dick so deep in my mouth, yet because of who he was, I wanted to carry on, no matter what. A few more thrusts of his cock fucking my mouth, and his cock erupted, spewing his seed straight down my throat. Fully awake and totally wanting to give him as much pleasure as I could, I kept on sucking on his large throbbing cock. Only when he pulled out and said Thank you, did I open my eyes.

Looking down at me was my hero, the one person who I'd honestly let do anything to me. Looking down and smiling at me was my older brother. Without saying anything to each other, I lay back in my covers and drifted off to sleep, knowing I'd given my brother the kind of love he needed from me.

Now many years on, my memory of that night resurfaced. I'm not sure why, because I'd somehow buried it deep within my mind. What I do know is, because of my recent recollection, I contacted him and asked him if it really took place. We met at his place and he couldn't have been more apologetic, he couldn't have been more remorseful. Yet the overriding feeling I had during our meeting was one of loss. Not at losing my innocence or his love, but at not being able to pleasure him again like I had that night.

In a complete twist to our relationship recently, I told him about a guy I've met outside of my marriage. We'd had sex at a motel, and I found myself becoming the dominant partner. So much so, I was still fucking him an hour passed our booking time. My brother just smiled at me and said "No need to stray outside the family you know". It's something that was left hanging between us, but I now know for sure what happened when I was younger, really did happen. I also know deep down, I'd love to have sex with my older brother again. And I also figure, there are lots of guys out there just like me.