DR. MIGUEL MARTINEZ:
As much as I tried to remain professional as a therapist, it was difficult not to get attached to clients sometimes. I'd only been seeing Richard for a few months but there was something... endearing about him. I felt bad for the poor man. He had so much love in his heart, and no one to give it to.
When I got the phone call from his brother last week that Richard wouldn't be showing up for his scheduled Wednesday session because he was at the hospital, my heart dropped. I knew immediately that whatever it was, it was alcohol-related. Richard had never managed to find a healthy coping mechanism with his loneliness and depression. Instead of going on medication, so far he preferred to self-medicate.
When he did show up the following Wednesday, he walked with a cane. I was happy to see that other than that, he seemed to be okay.
"Before we get started, Doctor," he said after taking a seat and assuring me that he was fine physically, "I know this and the next two session are already paid for..."
"Yes, until the end of the year," I nodded.
"After that, starting next year... I'm afraid I won't be able to see you anymore."
I tried to maintain a poker face, like I always did when I heard that from a patient.
"Don't get me wrong, I'd see you daily if I could," Richard laughed. "But with the legal bills, and medical bills piling up, I've had to cut corners and I'm afraid therapy is no longer within my budget."
"I understand," I said calmly. "I'm sorry to hear that. I do hope things work out well. And Richard..." I thought about it for a second then decided to proceed, "why don't you send me an email after this? Sometimes I offer pro bono sessions at reduced or no cost. Maybe we can work something out."
My pro bono work was typically reserved for much younger clients, usually queer and trans teenagers kicked out of home. But for Richard to stop therapy at such a pivotal time for him worried me. Or maybe I just had a soft spot for the man.
"Wow, Doc, I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"Don't worry about it. We'll talk more over email. Now," I was eager to change the subject and not talk about money, "what's it been like living with your brother? What's your relationship like?"
"Well, I've told you stories from when I was growing up. He was always the dominating one, the protective one. The oldest. The three of us played together all the time, we were best friends. Until our sister's... accident."
"Yes," I nodded.
"Then somewhere around high school, Patrick kinda... turned into a jerk. Our family was still doing well financially. He was a jock, good looking, one of the most popular kids in school. A good recipe for an asshole in the making. We didn't spend time together anymore, he had a ton of other friends he would hang out with. He wasn't all bad, though. He beat up some kids a few times when he heard they'd called me 'faggot.' Guess they knew it before I did," I laughed. "I spent years trying to date girls, much less successfully than my brother. Then when we were in college our parents... passed. And we hardly saw each other anymore. I was there for his wedding. My niece and nephew being born, and their birthdays, but not much else. When I came out to him, I expected a proper shit storm of Catholic guilt coming my way. But he took it much better than I anticipated. What I didn't know, he and his wife were already going through their breakup then, so I guess he didn't want to call the kettle black."
"And what's your relationship like now?" I repeated my original question.
Richard thought about it quietly for almost a minute.
"It's... confusing," he finally said. "He does these really considerate things for me sometimes. He's been so involved getting me back on my feet, this whole living-together thing was his idea. But then at other times, he can be so... aggressive. Granted, he's like that with everyone, not just me. He's dominating as fuck. I'm just glad I don't have to work with him."
"Is that what he's like at home?"
"He's... Sometimes. Other times, if I'm watching TV he'll come and sit next to me, almost cuddled up."
"And how does that make you feel? What kind of relationship would you like to have with your brother?"
"I... Just like when we were kids. I want us to be best friends again."
"For fuck's sake," I thought, unable to control my morning hard-on. "Can't I go five minutes without thinking about sex?"
It was a Saturday morning. I was still in bed, too lazy to get up from under the warm cover. I was scrolling through Facebook on my iPad. All it took was just one photo from an attractive woman I hadn't seen in years to get me horny and think about fucking her. "Don't go there," I told myself. "Quick, think of something nonsexual." I thought to check up on my kids.
My son, and namesake, Patrick seemed to be doing well. He was just wrapping up his first semester at college. Fuck, he looked so much like me. Judging by his photos he seemed to be very popular, surrounded by handsome, athletic guys who all seemed to be his buddies. I even overlooked the red Solo cups they were holding. Yes, he was too young to drink, but I sure was at that age, and I was having one hell of a good time.
His sister Hannah was in her senior year. I wondered if she would come back to Chicago after graduation; and if she did, if she'd want anything to do with me. In a week, both her and her brother would be heading to their mom's for the holidays. I looked at the pictures of Hannah's girlfriends, jumping from one profile to the next. Fuck, even fully dressed they looked so fucking hot. My hard cock started leaking precum in my boxers.
"Ah, fuck this," I thought and kicked off the cover. I pulled down my boxers and tucked them under my balls, reaching for my dick and moaning out loud in pleasure.
"That's more like it," I thought, feeling in my element. I held my needy cock in one hand and the iPad in the other, looking at my daughter's cute college friends, fantasizing about fucking them all side by side. I closed my eyes as my erection reached its full potential. Stroking my meat faster and faster, my toes started to curl...
"Oops! Sorry!" I heard my brother's voice all of sudden, followed by the sound of a door being shut. I didn't open my eyes, I was too close. I kept going until, seconds later, I shot my load all over my belly and my hairy chest.
"I'm sorry about that," Richard apologized again ten minutes later when I saw him in the kitchen. "I wanted to see if you were up and wanted breakfast, but I didn't wanna knock and wake you up in case you were still asleep."
"No worries," I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "As you can imagine, since Mona left, that's been a daily habit," I made a jerk-off gesture with my hand. It was something I'd joke about with my buddies, but not my brother. He and I never had that kind of relationship. Who knows, maybe it was time to start building one.
"Yeah, same," he laughed. We both stood in the kitchen in just our boxers. I looked down and realized I had a bit of cum still in my chest hair. "I made pancakes for breakfast," Richard said.
That afternoon, I drove my brother to his apartment to pack up his stuff. We'd rented a storage unit for his furniture and the things that wouldn't fit in my place. I helped him pack up his clothes and other necessities.
"What's this?" Richard asked, picking up a box that was next to the bed.
"Oh that. It arrived while you were gone," I answered, and watched him pull out the huge black dildo. In less than a second, his face went pink and he hid the dildo back in the box as fast as he could.
"You fucker," I laughed out loud. My brother hid his face in shame. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed," I reassured him, patting him on the back. "We all do it. Well, maybe not with one of those."
My brother turned and smiled at me.
Killing time at my brother's apartment Monday through Friday while he was at work was daunting. I slept a lot, and tried to do whatever housework I could. I would get whatever groceries I could from nearby stores. Patrick had gotten rid of all the alcohol at his place (or at least hidden it somewhere I couldn't see it) and I tried to resist buying any every time I went shopping. I also deleted all hookup apps from my phone, trying to focus on my recovery.
One Friday, I spent almost the entire day in bed, finally getting up in the mid-afternoon. It was time to take a shower before my brother got home. Now that I was spending so much time on my own during the day, he and I spent the evenings and weekends together. It was nice, and I was just hoping it was nice for him as well, and he wasn't just doing it to indulge me.
I got in the shower, enjoying the stream of hot water. Washing my dick, I was tempted to jerk off real quick; I was already half-hard. But no, it was already late enough and I'd squandered enough time. I got out of the shower and got dry, before walking out to go to my room. As I was home alone, I often walked around naked.
"Whoa, hey," I bumped into my brother in the living room. I was embarrassed to be standing in front of him stark naked, but I'd left the towel in the bathroom and covering myself up with my hands seemed silly. "You're home early," I said.
"Yeah, not a lot of work right before the holidays," he said, his eyes going up and down. Was he... checking me out, or was I imagining it?
"I'll go get dressed," I said awkwardly, and walked quickly to my room.
That evening, after dinner, my brother and I went to sit in front of the TV on the couch together. Normally, we would both be drinking scotch to start the weekend off. This time, he'd made us two cups of tea.
"There's something we need to talk about," I said nervously, shifting on the couch to look at him.
"Hey," he said in typical Patrick fashion, unable to keep his mouth shut and listen. "If it's about what happened earlier, with you coming out of the shower, or last Saturday when you walked in on me... Man, shit like that's gonna happen. We're grown men now. It's fine. Even if it's probably making Ma turn in her grave."
Growing up, we were raised very conservatively, and any kind of nudity was not tolerated in the house.
"It has absolutely nothing to do with that," I said. "But good to know you feel that way."
"Oh, okay, then what is it?"
I felt another pang of anxiety. Best to just come out with it.
"I think... After talking to my therapist, and after what happened, I've been thinking about joining a 12-step program, for alcoholics."
After some hesitation, the words came out as quickly as possible. Although it may not be a big deal to some, it felt like a huge deal for me. Again, it just wasn't the way we were raised. We were always taught to keep quiet about our problems, "grin and bear it." And definitely never air out our dirty laundry in front of strangers. That was always seen as a sign of weakness. As bad as I had it, I knew it was even worse for Patrick. As the eldest, he was always groomed to be the strongest.
"I think... that's a great idea," he said slowly.
"You do?!" I sighed in relief. "I thought you might be against it."
Just like when I came out to him, my brother seemed to take this much better than I feared.
"Why would I be against it?"
"I don't know. But also... I'd need you to drive me there, once or twice a week."
"C'mere," he smiled and leaned forward to give me a hug. He'd just taken a shower earlier as well and smelled very nice. "I'll do everything I can to help."
I got teary-eyed for a second, hearing that.
A few seconds of stillness followed.
"Okay, change of subject!" Patrick said, clapping his hands. I was glad to have him break the silence. "I have a question for you."
"Ask," I said, taking a sip of my tea.
"But it's kinda... out there."
I furrowed my brows in confusion.
Patrick shifted, looking a bit nervous. I was definitely not used to seeing him like this.
"Have you ever..." he said slowly, "measured? Down there?"
It took me a couple of seconds to register that he was talking about my cock.
"No," I smiled, looking down. "No, I haven't."
"I'm only asking cuz when I saw you it looked... wow. I mean, I haven't seen other men's dicks but you seemed pretty well-endowed."
So he had been checking me out when he saw me naked earlier!
"What do you mean you haven't seen other dicks?" I asked. "You go to the gym like every day."
"Yeah, but I don't stare at other men in the locker room!"
"They're single stalls."
"The fuck kinda gym you think I go to?" my brother laughed. "People wear towels around their waists."
We made eye contact and smiled at each other briefly.
"Of all the things I could've inherited, that would've been nice," he added.
My brother and I looked somewhat alike, but we weren't identical. He was significantly hairier, and much bigger (although, to be fair that had more with him working out than genes). Even in our middle age, we still had all our hair; my brother's having a bit more salt among the pepper, which also applied to his neatly-trimmed beard.
"I'm sure you're... just fine," I tried to reassure him. Admittedly, when I caught him jerking off last week, I did notice that I had at least a couple inches on him.
"I always thought I was. Now I feel fucking tiny."
"You know that there's growers and showers. You don't know how big I am hard."
"Why, how big are you hard?"
"I told you, I haven't measured," I laughed.
Then came the ultimate surprise.
"Let's do it," my brother jumped off the couch and started to head to his room.
"Wait, what?!" I yelled out after him.
"I wanna compare. I'm curious."
"Patrick, you're kidding, right?"
"No, I told you, I wanna know. We're brothers and I want to know how we compare."
There was a definitive tone to his voice now, as if the matter was settled and there was to be no further discussion. I didn't want to do this, I really didn't. I knew he would only be disappointed if we did.
"C'mere, I have a tape measure in my room. C'mon," he summoned me.
I followed him to his room, thinking of ways to change his mind.
"Ah just shut up already."
He pulled out a tape measure from one of the drawers and tried to hand it to me.
"What?" I asked. "I'm measuring soft?"
"No. Get yourself..." he made a jerk-off gesture with his hand again.
I stared at him incredulously.
"Okay, I'll start then," he said and pulled out his phone. In a few seconds, it was connected to the TV in his room and he started playing porn on it.
We were both wearing sweatpants and T-shirts. My brother let his sweats drop to the floor and stepped out of them. He stood in front of me wearing white socks and a white T-shirt, looking at the TV and slowly rubbing his dick.
"Straight porn alright with you?" he asked as if he was asking about dinner. "You can just focus on the guy."
Was my brother really that clueless that he didn't know I wouldn't be able to focus on any other guy right now?
I stood frozen for another minute, while my brother got himself hard. I didn't even try to pretend to keep my eyes off him. His hairy thighs, and his big glutes. The clean white socks he had on. And his dick, getting bigger by the second...
Before I even knew it, I was getting hard under my sweats.
"There we go," my brother looked away from the TV and noticed my erection. "Pull em down," he ordered.
I did as I was told. Looking down and comparing our cocks, we seemed to be about the same size. But me, I was only half-hard.
"Okay," Patrick said, looking down. His cock was fully erect, the mushroom head glistening his precum. He used the tape measure, from the base to the tip. "Six inches," he announced.
"Okay, I'll do it," I said, trying to reach for the tape measure.
"Nuh-huh. You're not done yet, I can tell. Do it," he said authoritatively, pointing to the TV, expecting me to watch the porn to get me hard. What he didn't know, apparently, is that what was happening in the room right now was a bigger turn-on than any porn I'd ever seen.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling my own horniness. Within seconds, I could tell I was fully hard. The pleasure was immense.
"Gimme," I said and took the tape measure.
"All the way to the base," my brother barked when he noticed me try to measure half an inch less. I stretched the tape to the tip of my dick, wet with precum by now, dripping on the carpet.
"Nine," my brother said, looking at my cock and the number on the tape measure himself. "Nine inches. You got three inches on me. Three!"
"I'm sorry," I was tempted to say, but I kept quiet.
Patrick looked up from my cock and he and I made eye contact.
"Good for you," he offered his congratulations.
"Thanks," I tried to be nonchalant. But I couldn't help it. I was still gripping my dick, its wet head pulsating in my hand. I wasn't stroking it but just holding it did the trick...
There and then, unwillingly, I started to shoot my load. "Fuck!" I screamed. I hadn't intended to but I couldn't hold it. A big spurt of cum shot out of my nine-incher, all over the carpet and my brother's hairy leg, standing right next to me.
"Fuck!" I yelled again and closed my eyes, trying to blank out what was happening, but it only made me focus on it more and feel hornier. I was shooting my load right in front of my brother. On him, for fuck's sake!
With my eyes closed, his words echoed in my mind, from our first night in the apartment together. "It's what brothers do."