Brad Miey and Renewal

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

A big thank you to Mike for his help in being the inspiration for this story. It starts out a bit slow, but I hope you will be rewarded. And, it goes without saying, everyone is an adult.

***

Christine and I were on vacation celebrating our tenth anniversary. We were having a great time parasailing, swimming with dolphins, and enjoying the beautiful coast. I was looking forward to another 10, 20, 30, even 40 years of a wonderful marriage. As it turned out, I was the only one who thought that.

One evening close to the end of our week, Christine seemed a bit distant. Maybe she was just a bit tired. Maybe we could just eat dinner and get a good night's sleep. No, that wasn't it and what she said next shocked me.

"Brad, I don't love you."

Where did this come from? Not only did she not love me, Christine told me, she was having an affair with her boss for over a year and that I was a "terrible fuck." The really cruel part was that she was so smug as she said it. How had I missed this? What had I done? She had the 'things' she wanted and I always gave her the respect a wife who is loved deserves.

"I just want another man," she went on. "Any man who isn't you."

She slammed the stake into my heart and twisted. There was no going back.

"I will be out of our room in 15 minutes and l will leave your ticket on the dresser. Go back whenever you want," I said and tried to be calm.

"I'm going back in the morning. Well," she continued with a smirk, "I'm going on to Hawaii to meet him. He will be fucking me tomorrow." Christine said this almost gleefully, hurting me further. Trying to destroy me.

Trembling with anger and shame, I got up from the table. Thank God I was thinking, though. Once out of her sight, I made a call to my banker, accountant, and lawyer. All of them personal friends. I took her off every account and disabled her ATM and credit cards -- she was on my accounts I had before our marriage.

When I got to the room, I packed my things quickly and left her an envelope with some cash and a check for half of what was in our checking and saving accounts -- we lived in a community property state. I let her know she was off the ATM and credit cards in a note.

With that, I walked out of the hotel and left the life I had thought was perfect.

The court battle wasn't really much of a fight. My accountant provided the numbers. My lawyer made sure she didn't clean me out. The house was sold and I received half of the proceeds. Everything was finalized.

One thing neither one of us could predict happened during the next month after the divorce was finalized. I won a lottery jackpot. You'd think I'd be happy, but I didn't have anyone to share it with, so it just went into investments after I bought a house and remodeled. No fancy cars, art, wine, parties, or anything. I just worked as a writer and lived quietly giving to what I thought were worthy causes.

And, no, I did not go out with anyone. It was a self-imposed celibacy. I just stopped caring and never saw anyone who attracted me.

After two years, my brother Mike, who I loved so much, called and said he wanted to stay with me for few weeks.

"I'd love to have you here. Stay as long as you want. There's a suite you can use. Wait until you see it. When are you going to be here?" The questions came out all at once; I was really excited to have him around.

You see, Mike is ten years younger than I am. He was one of those surprise babies you hear about who are just cherished. When Mike was five, our Dad was killed in a massive car accident, and I kind of became brother and father to him teaching him about sports, how to fix things around the house, went camping together, and just loved him. I didn't date much in high school because I just thought I had to take care of Mike, along with Mom.

Mom made sure he took piano lessons. Saw the beauty in flowers. I taught him how to plant a flower garden. Mom taught him what should be in it. Our life was really wonderful, even though we missed Dad every day.

Once in college I did not see him as often of course, but we talked three times a week. I graduated, got a job as a writer, and married Christine who was my college sweetheart. I should have figured out things were not as rosy as I thought they were when she complained about the time I spent with Mike, but hindsight is 20/20, right? Soon, Mike wasn't coming around any longer, but we continued to talk twice a week.

It was during one of those talks when he was 16 that he told me he was gay. My reaction?

"Yeah. So? You are still my brother and I still love you, Mikey." You could almost hear him simile through the phone. And, the sigh of relief was kind of a give away, too.

Mike went on to college, majored in electrical engeineering and minored in music. He found a great job with a start-up while he continued to give piano lessons because he loved the piano so much. The piano lessons where how he supported himself through college. He had a few boyfriends and a couple of serious relationships with guys who were older, but they never seemed to work out. Sure, I was concerned about him because I only wanted to very best for my younger brother.

He finally arrived. I had been looking forward to seeing and spending time with him, again. When I heard him drive up, I opened the door and just beamed. As he got out of the car and came closer. I got a good look at him. He really looked like our Mother, who had died a few years ago. The same thick brown hair, slim build, and blue eyes that just sparkled. At 5'8" he was shorter than my 6'0" and when I hugged him, his head rested against my shoulder. He just seemed to fit me so well. As I held him, I felt the stress leave his body as he kind of melted into me. Smiling, I just held him for a few moments.

"This place is great. You've done a beautiful job," as he looked around the exterior of my remodeled mid-century home after stepping back from our hug.

"It could use your landscaping skills, I think. But, that's something we can talk about later. We need to get you settled in. Let me help you grab your stuff and get it to your room. First, let me show you your room."

I guided him through the house giving him the nickel tour pointing out the obvious kitchen, great room, showing him where my office was and the location of the Master Suite. And, it didn't take him long to notice the pool in the backyard, either. Nothing slow about Mikey when there's a wall of windows looking into the backyard!

Finally, we got to his room. He gasped when he saw how big it was and walked into the attached bathroom.

"This is for me," he asked.

"For as long as you want it. Weeks. Months. Years. As far as I am concerned, this is your room and this house is your home." As I said this, I was looking directly into his eyes and saw him begin to tear. Walking over to him, I wrapped him in my arms and just held him.

"Nobody has ever done anything like this for me," he whispered as I held him.

"Nobody loves you like I do, Mikey. Unconditional love. You should know that by now," I reminded him gently. I released him and reminded him that we needed to get his things out of the car so he could settle in. We made a couple of trips to get a few bags and suitcases. Every time he walked by Mom's old baby grand piano, he'd look at it like a long-lost friend.

"You know, I'd love to hear you play whenever you're ready. Anytime. Take a look around, there are no close neighbors around to complain about piano music at 1:00 in the morning." He just nodded. "Yes," I added, "that's Mom's piano. Your piano that I've just been keeping safe for you."

He got settled, took a shower and we went out for dinner to celebrate him being 'home.' It was a wonderful dinner. It took all of two minutes to resume the easy intimacy we had always enjoyed. He told me about the last few years and his failed relationships. One of them was abusive. As he talked, my heart went out to him and I reached across the table to hold his hand as he spoke. And, then he was done. He was finished talking and ready to move forward.

"Brad, is it okay if I paint the room?"

"Sure. Any color you want. What do you have in mind?"

"Not sure, yet. Maybe," and he paused not sure of how I'd react. "Maybe a pale pink or yellow," he said softly.

"Any color you want as long as I do the painting." I had worked as a painter to put myself through college and have found there are few painters who can do as well as I do. In fact, I do all of my own interior painting.

"Pink is really okay," he asked. "I kind of like feminine things," he said softly.

"Any color. And, the place could use a feminine touch. We'll get the paint tomorrow morning and by tomorrow early afternoon, you will have the room you want. Okay?"

Mikey just beamed.

In the morning after breakfast, we were at the paint store, selected the color, and purchased he paint. He helped me move furniture away from the walls and by 12:30 the room was a very pale pink. After lunch, he helped me put the furniture back and I left him to get fully settled.

As he was settling in, I ran an errand and returned with fresh flowers for his room. Putting them in a vase, I knocked on his door. He didn't want me to see it until he was done. When he opened the door and saw the flowers, he started to cry.

"Nobody has ever given me flowers," he said between tears.

"I just thought you might like them. And, Mikey, get used to it. I'm not nobody and I'm not anybody. I am your brother and I love you -- no matter what. Understand that you are home, now."

He took the flowers from me, and closed the door again. I went and took a shower, did a couple of hours of work and then decided it was time to get dinner ready. A simple dinner which only took about 30 minutes to put together. When it was ready, I called for him. As I was waiting, I stretched my neck and back; they ached from the painting work.

"Aching muscles," he asked as he walked in the kitchen.

"Just muscles I haven't used in awhile," as I opened my eyes they almost popped out of my head. It was as if I were seeing him for the first time. Wow, was all I could think. Mikey is gorgeous as he stood there in shorts and an old oxford shirt that he had tied up showing off his waist. Good thing he has a great butt and nice waist, I was thinking. But, he's my brother! Can't be seeing things like this.

"Finished staring," he smiled as he asked.

"Busted," as I gave him a small smile. "Now, let's have dinner. Fish, baked potato and salad with fresh biscuits."

"My favorite dinner!"

"Like I didn't know that," shaking my head gently.

Dinner was great. He talked about his room. That he was going to need to get new towels and bedding in the morning and maybe look at art work. He also told me he had already lined up work he could do from 'home.' I told him that was great, but that he'd have to use the dining table as a desk until we could figure out something better.

And, we talked about growing up together. How we both missed Dad, and now Mom. How they had given us so much, but most of all the love we had for one another. He got this far away look when we talked about us, but I just shrugged it off and let him have his thoughts.

I began to clear the table...

"That's my job. You cooked. I clean," he announced.

"Tell you what. We will figure it all out tomorrow or the next day. Tonight I'd love it if you played the piano for a few minutes while I clean. Just a few minutes."

Mikey nodded and stepped over to the piano. He stood looking at it for a few moments before lifting the keyboard and sitting down. And he began to play some of the most beautiful music I have ever heard. In fact, after I cleaned up after dinner, I stood in the kitchen and listened never wanting the moment to end. He looked so much like Mom when he played. So in touch with the music, and, I realized, so beautiful. I clapped as the piece ended.

"Thank you,' I said. "Nobody has touched that piano since the last time she played. I kind of think she'd be happy knowing your fingers were dancing across the keyboard."

"Maybe. I know I love it. Love this piano and playing it. But now, Mister," he said pretending to be stern. "I need to give you a back rub. You can't say no. You painted my room, now you get a back rub."

"I give. Where do you want me?"

"I'll be back in a minute," he said. And, being true to his word, he was back in just two minutes wearing an old pair of what looked like gym shorts that were a bit short and tight on him, and carrying a bottle and a couple of towels. I looked at the towels wondering what they were for.

"So, I don't get oil on your bed or my shorts." He answered the unasked questions. With that, he led me into my bedroom, told me to take off my shirt as he was laying the towels on the bed. I watched him move and saw how graceful he was...and God forgive me, how great he looked in the shorts. When he turned to look at me, I swear he did a double take, but didn't say anything. Why? Maybe because I am in better shape today than when I graduated from college. Slim, toned, with a light dusting of hair on my body.

"Take off your belt. You will be more comfortable." I did as he directed and then just in my shorts, I laid down on the bed on my stomach. After putting some oil in his hands, he began to slowly work on my shoulders. His soft hands gliding over my skin and then working on the many knots in my muscles. His touch made me moan softly. I couldn't believe the magic of his hands on me.

"When was the last time you had a massage," he asked quietly.

"Ten years ago, maybe," I mumbled into the pillows on the bed.

"Well, that changes today. No more decades between massages."

Mikey moved from standing at the side of the bed and straddled my hips. As a result, he was able to put more pressure on my aching muscles. Shoulders. Upper back. Down my arms. My hands. Fingers, even. Then he shifted slightly and his hands were working down my lower back. His fingers just moving under the waistband of my shorts. My moans were more frequent, now. He leaned forward so that his lips were at my ear.

"We've got to get these shorts out of the way," he whispered. All I could do was nod. The feel of his soft breath on my ear made me almost shiver. "Unbutton them so I can pull them off." I reached under and undid the button of the shorts and unzipped them after raising my hips. In a moment he had them down my legs and off. Now, I was just lying there in my boxers.

Then, starting at my feet, he slowly worked his way up my legs. His oil covered hands going up and down...up and down my legs working the muscles loose. Higher he went with his hands. I spread my legs so it was easier for him. I loved Mikey's touch and wanted more of it, even though he was my brother. What was wrong with me? I stared to slowly bring my legs together.

"Keep them spread for me," he instructed gently. And, I did.

His hands went higher on my legs. The inside of my thighs. His soft fingers just brushing under the leg hem of my boxers pushing them up a bit. His soft humming continued as he worked out the tension in my body. Then, I felt his fingers push the legs of my boxers even higher and felt his finger-tips brush lightly against my balls. That made me jump and moan at the same time. I was already so hard and aroused and didn't have a clue what I would do if he asked me to turn over.

"Mikey, what are you doing," I asked him softly. "You're my brother," I reminded him.

"Just relax, Silly Man," he instructed me as he softly giggled. Giggled!

Taking a deep breath and trying to relax my hard cock, I began to enjoy the working of his hands again. Next he lightly scratched my back with his nails making long gentle rakes on my skin from my shoulders down. His fingers went under the waistband of my boxers...just under it. Almost teasing me with his touch. Leaning forward, his long thick hair brushing my neck, he whispered,

"Feeling better? More relaxed?"

"Mostly," I said softly. He gently laughed at my response.

"It's time for you to turn over. You have another side, you know."

"Mikey, it might not be such a good idea for me to turn over." I could swear I was blushing and knew I shouldn't let him see me hard and leaking. I was both embarrassed that he, my brother, caused it to happen.

"Silly Man, do you think I don't know you might be aroused? And, do you really think I've never seen a hard cock before? Really?" Mikey's voice was gentle, soft, encouraging and even mocking all at the same time. I've no clue how he did that.

So, I slowly turned over and he saw the tent my 8" cut cock made and then watched as the fabric of the boxers parted and it was exposed. I could just have died at that moment. So embarrassed remembering the last words my ex-wife told me: that I was a lousy fuck. I just thought I wasn't good enough. But, Mikey's reaction changed all of that.

"That lying bitch! Brad, you're beautiful. No way could you be anything but exceptional with a wonderful tool like that." He was looking at my hard cock. Looking at it leak a bit. Seeing it throb and pulse. Then, he did something I did not expect.

Oiling his hands, which I thought were going to be used on my shoulders and chest, he gently ran them down my cock making me tremble. His touch was so light and loving. But, he was my brother.

I reached out with my hands and grabbed his wrists gently holding them.

"Mikey, you can't. I'm your brother."

"Brad, nobody loves you like I do. Why do you think I had relationships with older men? I was looking for you and for the love you gave me. Brad, I love you and I always will." I saw tears and determination in his eyes. And, I saw his love.

"Brad, let me love you," he said. "Let me love you and care for you like you have done for me my entire life."

I released his wrists as I began to gently cry. Opening my arms I invited him to be close, to lie on me so I could hold him, which he did. Wrapping my arms around him, his head on my shoulder. His lips next to my ear.

"I love you," he whispered. "Let me show you for once." With those words, he slowly moved his hips against mine. I could feel his bulge in the shorts rubbing on my hard cock. My resistance melting away.

"Mikey, I don't know what to do; how to make you feel the pleasure I want to give you." Kissing his hair gently and smelling the perfume he had put on it for the first time.

"Don't worry. It will take care of itself."

With that, he raised himself from my arms and smiled.

"Frist, we need to get rid of these boxers." As I raised my hips, he pulled them off stretching the waistband to get them over my cock. How he loved seeing it spring right back up. In fact he lightly slapped it just to see it spring back, which made us both laugh. Okay, I laughed between moans.

"Tease!"

"Oh, Brad, you have no idea. One day I hope you will. But," as he slowly stroked my cock and gently fondled my balls, "she really was a lying bitch. You are magnificent."

Then he straddled my thighs and placed his hands on my chest. Actually, each had was over a nipple and he gently squeezed them causing me to get even harder as I looked up into his eyes. His eyes were so beautiful.

My eyes went from his hair down his body to the bulge in his shorts. I'm not sure what made me do it, but I took my index finger and traced his bulge from the base to the tip. Then, still using just my index finger, I pressed on the head of his cock. In a moment I felt his shorts get wet and a spot formed right at the place where the head of his cock was resting. As my finger continued to press and open his slit through his shorts, he began to moan softly, kind of like a kitten.

"Is it time for you to take off those shorts," I asked gently. He responded with a nod and got up off the bed. Taking his time, he untied the shirt and slowly unbuttoned it. He was such a tease and enjoyed every moment of it -- especially as I started to slowly stroke my cock as I watched him.