Brotherly Love

Thanks to

Brotherly Love

"Hey, it's me, how ya doin'?"

"OK. How's you, big bro?"

"Only OK? What can I do to help?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a bit off today."

"Tell your big bro all about it. Never know, maybe I can make it all better."

It was typical of Mark to assume that he had the right to know everything about his younger brother's life. This had always been the way. He was only four years older, but since their parents divorced, over twenty years earlier, he had taken on the role of their father. He wasn't very good at it, but he had decided the mantle was his to wear, and he would portray himself in this role to everyone.

Liam was sick of it, to be honest. He loved his older brother, of course, but being spoken to in such a patronising manner over all these years was irritating.

The truth was, Mark had everything. He had the job he wanted, the house he wanted, the income he wanted. Not that Liam wanted those things. He would never have chosen Mark's job, house or lifestyle (the income, maybe), but he was doing ok.

The one thing Mark had that Liam really wanted was his wife. Not that there was anything wrong with Liam's wife. She was attractive and fun, great company and shared the housework with him - he did most of the cleaning, while she focused on cooking, which she was brilliant at - her lasagne was second to none, and her home baking was magnificent.

It was inevitable, Liam reflected, that after ten years of marriage, she would have put on a little weight - mainly on her hips - but she was hardly 'big', just had wide hips and a bum which many found insanely attractive. Not Liam, however. His focus had always been boobs. Shelley had never been stacked, but she had a nice handful - any more was a waste, they said. Bullshit, according to Liam. No-one said that about money, or food.

Mark's wife was entirely different. She had tits a man could get lost in. She didn't flaunt them, but they were unmissable - to Liam anyway. She was slim, and worked out, which made her top heavy - just what Liam liked. Worse still, while Liam's wife was a couple of years older than him, Mark's was five years younger. Somewhere in the great scheme of things, their wives had got mixed up.

Over ten years of marriage, Liam and Shelley's sex life had, inevitably, he assumed, become less avid. From their early days, when they fucked daily and creatively, they now had sex about once a week, if that, and then it consisted of a quick grope, hop on top and hump away until she climaxed and he spat his cum inside her - vaguely hoping it might one day result in pregnancy, but allowing hope to dwindle month after month.

Liam often wished they had talked about it. At first, they had regularly had oral sex (almost every time), enjoyed anal sex, dressed up, had sex in the open countryside - even had a threesome with Shelley's friend from University, and seriously considered swinging after that. In truth, neither of them had dismissed the thought, it had just drifted away without them picking up the reins of the conversation again. Liam wondered if Shelley had similar thoughts.

"You listening?"

Liam drew himself back to the telephone conversation.

"Sorry, mate, just thinking. Say again."

"I said, why don't you and Shelley come to us for the weekend. Weather's great, we can have a barbeque and just relax. Shelley and Maria can talk about girlie things and we can catch up on the family."

Liam really did not want to go, but he knew Shelley would. She loved visiting Mark, and she and Maria got on well. Mark and Maria only married two years ago after a six-month romance, and it always seemed that their marriage was in the honeymoon phase - lots of hand-holding and kissing, gentle caresses and double-entendres. They were sure to grow out of it, but it irritated.

Still, Liam reflected, maybe some of it would rub off on Shelley. Maybe she would rub him off! Too much to ask. But still...

Just at that moment, Shelley walked in.

"Hi. Oh! Sorry, you're on the phone. Who is it?"

"Mark," mouthed Liam.

"Hey Mark," shouted Shelley, "what's up?"

Liam closed his eyes, annoyed, as he knew what would happen next.

"Hey Shell," yelled Mark in his ear.

"Ow! Stop yelling." Liam complained. "I'll put you on speaker." He did so, and Mark spoke in a lower voice.

"Hey, Shell. Just inviting my little bro and his gorgeous lady wife down for the weekend. Y'know - nice barbie, sitting in the garden, chatting with Maria, board games in the evening. What d'you think?"

Shelley instantly smiled with delight. "We'd love to. Sounds wonderful."

Liam groaned inwardly. He hated board games almost as much as Maria enjoyed them.

"Fantastic! Be here for dinner Friday, then we've got all day Saturday and you can leave after Sunday lunch. How's that sound? Bring your bikini, Maria spends half her life sunbathing at the moment."

"Wonderful!" Shelley exclaimed delightedly. And so, the die was cast.

Liam was morose. The only light in the sea of darkness was the thought of Maria in a bikini. Other than that, his brother's mediocre barbeques and board games were his idea of hell. Add to that, the idea that Mark was going to be prying into what was making Liam miserable, and the descent to total damnation seemed inevitable. No way was he going to talk about his marital dis-satisfaction with his brother.

Mark and Liam had never discussed sex. It was rather a taboo subject in the family, and it was the one way in which Mark succeeded in being like a father to Liam. They would no more discuss sex in their marriages than most other fathers and sons. Still, not many fathers were married to Maria.

The next two days dragged for Liam. He dutifully helped Shelley to pack, noting that her string bikini from their nightmare holiday in Majorca was in the suitcase. The holiday had been hell. They were told that theirs was a nice, quiet resort, away from the clubs and chaos. It wasn't. It was loud, full of drunks with over-crowded beaches. The only pleasure was gazing at the bare tits of topless women on beaches and by the swimming pool - but only when Shelley wasn't looking.

"Stop staring," she kept saying, "they're just tits. You can see mine whenever you want, and there's millions of them online."

Once the suitcase was closed, Shelley addressed him, using the same tone of voice.

"And stop being so bloody moody. Mark loves seeing you. He'll be really looking forward to it. I spoke to Maria last night, and I know they've been working really hard to make sure our stay goes well. Smile. Be pleasant. Stop acting like a child."

Liam knew he had been irritable, ever since they agreed to go - or Shelley did, anyway - but he knew she was right. The least he could do was to try to enjoy it - especially if he was trying to use Mark and Maria's 'touchy-feely' behaviour to help his and Shelley's relationship.

He smiled. "Sorry. You know how it is with Mark. He gets patronising and tries being a dad, then we argue. It pisses me off. But I'll try. Never know. Might be OK."

He noted that Shelley had been talking to Maria again. They spoke two or three times a week, and he wondered what it was all about. She'd better not be telling her all their personal secrets. If Mark found Shelley was dissatisfied, the lecture would be unbearable.

It took just over an hour to get to Mark's house. It was in a small country village, and while the house was not huge compared to others around it, it was substantially larger than their three bedroom (well two and a box room) semi-detached suburban property. It also had a very good-sized garden, surrounded on all sides by trees, ensuring total privacy. Liam was jealous.

In truth, Liam was jealous of everything about Mark. His house, his wife, his job. While he had to tick over as a teacher, still with no promotions or enhanced salary, Mark worked in finance. It was a soulless job, but had regular hours and paid money which failed to reflect Mark's lack of skills, other than the ability to part people from cash which they could not afford. It was not a job Liam could do, as he considered it immoral, and found the way Mark's employers promoted him for this lack of morality positively despicable.

As he and Shelley pulled into the driveway (no on-road parking here), Mark and Maria appeared at the door, smiling broadly. There were hugs all round and air kisses exchanged. Liam felt a distinct frisson in his crotch as Maria pressed her large, firm breasts against him, and a slight irritation as Mark grabbed Shelley's arse as they embraced.

Once more, the irony struck him. How had they ended up with the wrong wives? Mark had always been an 'arse man', while he was the 'tit man'. He glanced at Maria's boobs, wondering once again if they were surgically enhanced, but deciding, as he always did, that they were too flexible and pliant for that. He would give anything to get his hands on them.

As Maria linked arms with Shelley and the women disappeared into the house, chatting as if they had known one another for years, Mark threw a casual arm round Liam's shoulder.

"Come on, little bro, let's get a beer and settle down. Maria's been cooking, so god knows what we'll be eating. Probably curry of some sort. Let's catch up while they talk about us."

Mark seemed to have no fears about his wife telling their secrets - probably because their secrets were the kind most people would happily boast about - another promotion, exotic holidays, a vibrant sex life and so on. Liam dreaded the thought that his inadequacies were being laid bare - especially the barren, almost sexless desert which they inhabited. He imagined the conversation.

"Well," Maria would start, "the other night, I had four orgasms. We fucked in half a dozen positions, and Mark licked me out before taking me up the arse. Then I sucked him for ten minutes, before jerking him off onto my tits. Standard night really. Tonight's bondage night and Saturday we'll be trying something new, as usual."

Shelley would look miserable, before replying: "Oh, we did it last Saturday - oh no, it was the Saturday before - Liam fingered me a bit, then hopped on top and it was all over in ten minutes. Wish I could remember what an orgasm felt like..."

On reflection, Shelley was probably more loyal than that, but it would have been true. Liam felt guilty. Perhaps he should consider her a bit more. He really should talk about his needs, and ask her about hers. As a teacher, though, talking so openly about sex just didn't seem right somehow - so how had he managed it so easily at the start of their relationship?

While the women disappeared into the kitchen, Liam and Mark sat in front of the vast TV in comfortable armchairs either side of the long, oak coffee table. The sofa was left for the women, who had fewer qualms over the physical comfort that sitting so close together might entail.

Mark fetched two cans of beer, and looked at his brother.

"You look stressed, Liam. I know you hate it when I try to give you advice, but just one piece: try to let things go this weekend. I know your job's tough, but I think there's stuff you're not going to tell me. Let it go. Have fun. Forget you're a teacher, just be the carefree kid I grew up with. Advice over."

Liam stared at Mark. For once, the advice seemed good. Perhaps just relaxing would help. He would try - and watching Maria's tits would definitely help. He acknowledged his brother with a smile.

Mark continued. "Y'know it's nearly a year since we had some proper time together. I've changed, thanks to Maria. I'm trying to let go of the money obsession and embrace some free-thinking. You'll get to see it this weekend, if you let yourself. Might be a stretch for you, but let's see."

Liam was unsure exactly what his brother was saying. He knew there had been changes - getting out of the stylish city flat (which Liam despised), gardening as a hobby, fitness focused on long walks, rather than heavy workouts - and now whatever this was. He doubted that his brother's would really stop here, but he could hope.

The women reappeared, wine glasses in hand, and conversation immediately became light and pleasant - personal anecdotes, nostalgia and fun, until fifteen minutes later, there was a 'ping' from the kitchen. The women shot up and disappeared, only to come back five minutes later and announce that dinner was served.

The meal was excellent - as expected, it was curry, but unlike Maria's previous effort (a year before), this was not solely designed to be as hot as possible, it was warm and spicy, and the rice was aromatic and filling. Dessert was also homemade - cheesecake, light again, and counteracting any lingering warmth of the main course.

Wine was consumed -several bottles - and Liam began to believe that this weekend might, indeed, be exactly what he needed. Shelley begam to smile and laugh, conversation was light and fun, avoiding sensitive topics, and the four of them were getting on better than ever before.

Mark and Maria sat on the floor. She leaned into him, showing a closeness which Liam and Shelley had enjoyed for the first few years of marriage. When Shelley slid onto the floor, resting against Liam's leg and draping an arm around his knee, he began to feel that the atmosphere was becoming distinctly romantic - who knew, perhaps there might be sex in the offing - especially as the alcohol had made Maria very flirty, and Mark seemed to be enjoying her teasing.

The conversation moved on to sex. It was a gradual move, starting with work gossip - someone in Mark's office who was having an affair with a fellow employee. It began with how it impacted on the atmosphere at work, and Shelley commenting on the effect on families, and they all tutted and disapproved, until, during a slight lull, Maria spoke up:

"Maybe their partners know and don't mind."

Liam's initial response was that this was impossible, but the ensuing discussion quickly began to make him think: perhaps their partners didn't enjoy sex, and were happy for them to have an outlet; maybe one of them had a health condition which effected their sex lives; maybe emotional compatibility was there in relationships, but not sexual compatibility; maybe they just had open marriages and so on.

Then, to Liam's amazement, Shelley spoke up. "Let's be honest, sex is just a lot of physical thrashing about, and it's meant to be fun. It's only religious and social mores that make it sacrosanct. Perhaps they just separate the two aspects on a philosophical level."

Liam had been about to object, but then recognised her comment as something he had always said, especially during the early stages of their relationship, when they seriously considered sex with other people - not in an open relationship, but together, as swingers. He knew it would be hypocritical to turn the idea on its head now.

In fact, all four agreed, and lamented the fact that sex was allowed to die in some relationships, leaving one or other partner frustrated - or even both. They all agreed that failing to talk about sex was a major failing in so many otherwise strong relationships, and often led to couples falling apart.

For Liam, it was as if someone had shone a light on him and Shelley, and was pinpointing the threat to their happiness. He decided, there and then, that he would raise the subject with Shelley as soon as they got home. Maybe they could turn the clock back.

It was well after midnight, and all had worked a full week, so as the conversation waned, they made their way to their bedrooms.

Liam waited for Shelley to gather up her pyjamas and head for the bathroom as usual, while he changed on his own. However, it seemed this was not her plan. She stripped off her shorts and t-shirt, and stood before him in her underwear. She wore a black bra and matching panties - she always wore nice underwear, he remembered, apparently it 'made her feel good'.

"Well?" Shelley asked. "Am I still attractive?" She turned slowly, showing him her whole body. He looked, at first apprehensively - he hadn't really gazed at her body in years, not wanting to make her feel like an object - then more confidently.

There was no doubt the years had been kind. Her waist was slim and flat, her hips swelled broadly, and while her bum was wide, it was not fat or flabby - toned and rounded. Her breasts were not huge, but very adequate. While his taste in porn tended more towards large boobs and narrower hips, there was no avoiding the fact that she was an attractive woman.

"You look great," Liam replied, honestly. "I'd still fancy you if it was the first time I saw you."

She reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, then slipped her knickers off, standing naked in front of him. Once more she turned to allow him to see her whole body. Her tits were firm, nipples slightly erect, pointing upwards. Her buttocks, too, were firm. A couple of small dimples, but not overly covered with loose flesh. Liam felt himself stiffen.

He quickly stripped off his clothes, definitely semi-erect, making Shelley smile.

"I can't remember the last time we actually looked at each other," she said, "but you still look good, and I can tell you like what you see."

It seemed Shelley had decided to have the discussion about sex right now, and while Liam would rather have been more sober, he conceded that drink might make the conversation less inhibited. This was a good start. Shelley was right. They tended to undress in separate rooms, as if ashamed of their bodies, and when they had sex, it was under the covers with lights off.

"Look at me closely," Shelley demanded, "tell me what you really like."

Initially, Liam was coy, talking about her flat stomach and slim waist, her gorgeous eyes and full lips, then her toned arms and legs.

"What about my tits?" She asked.

He looked directly at them.

"I always liked them. Not too big or too small, firm and nice to touch. And your nipples. Nice. Circular, symmetrical. I always love the dark brown colour. They stand out nicely. And in the middle when they get hard and pointed. They're firm. Nice to..."

He wanted to say 'suck', but a vestige of prudishness held him back.

"How about my pussy?" Shelley urged. He didn't think he had ever heard her refer to her own genitals before, much less use the word 'pussy'. He was almost shocked, but whether it was alcohol or frustration which was pushing her forward, he liked it. It was turning the clock back, and he wanted to play this game, to see where it was leading.

"It's lovely..." he began, but she interrupted.

"No. Look at it. I want you to look, properly."

He moved down, until his eyes were level with the small slit popping up between her legs. It was hairless. She had started shaving when they first met, mostly to please him (he had dared her one night, when they had both been drunk). Since then, she had found that she liked the feeling. If he had ever asked, she would have said it was for hygiene. In truth, this was half the story. It made her feel sexy, and she loved knowing that he could see her exposed.

There was, in truth, very little to see, and he struggled to comment. Then she spread her thighs, sharing her fleshy lips, slightly swollen, and shining with moisture.

"I love how your lips swell when you feel sexy," he said, "and how the skin's so soft."

She reached down and used her fingers to part her vulva, exposing herself fully to his gaze. He drew a breath, unsure what to say - whether to be scientific and technical or crude. He did not want to objectify her, but was beginning to recognise her need to have her body totally appreciated, not treated as if some parts were taboo, or in some way disgusting.

"I love the colours. That deeper pink, almost red. The way your clitoris is so clear. I always managed to find it with my fingers and..." he paused, daring himself to say it, "... my tongue. Then your other lips, neat around your hole. It all looks so neat and... tidy... like a flower, with your hole in the middle, inner lips like petals, framed by your outer lips, and your clit like an anther... or stamen... whichever."