'breakfast of champions' bi/ Joe's Bridge

My older brother had always looked out for me while I was growing up, and now-a-days he takes care of me in a wholly different way.He must have sensed I was awake and jacking my rod because it wasn't long until I heard him come in. Like an unspoken ritual he'd silently creep into my room early in the morning to find me half awake, with my piss-boner wrapped tightly in my hands. This time I was on my back; feet close together, balls loose a'top my thighs and eyes closed as my hands slowly churned in a lazy corkscrew-motion. I had woken from a dream of butt-boys who were sucking my prong while I worshipped their perfect buns. In an early-morning daze, I was continuing the image in my mind and milking it for all it was worth.

I felt his presence as he knelt at the foot of my bed. The temperature in the room seemed to change from the warmth of his newly-awaken body. My brother is a big strong man. At 25, he is 6'4, 220lbs of dark hair and brute strength. I'd guess you'd call him a bear; a very manly - confident creature that had always registered in my mind as my security blanket; especially since I was so much smaller... I stand a mere 5'9, and weigh-in at 145lbs... when he hugs me I more or less disappear from view! When we wrestle and I pin him down, I tease him that he's big enough to be my bed. (Big, warm, and soft.)

I felt the weight of his elbows depress the mattress as he rested them on either side of my feet. Then I felt his wet tongue, that familiar tongue with it's very soft sand-papery surface. He licked between my toes from underneath... first one foot, then the other. Soon he'd taken my big-toe into his mouth and locked it in place with his lips and teeth. I put my other foot against his shoulder and pressed down... massaging the muscles in his neck. Suckling quietly, his tongue wrapped around and around, his teeth gripping gently behind the knuckle. Then he slid the next toe in, moving his mouth side to side, lapping and washing all five toes as if he were sucking on a harmonica. Which is a great comparison, because both he and I were moaning softly while he worked his mouth upon me.

Releasing my digits, he began to swath his wide flat tongue -- dragging along my ankle, up my shin and around to my calf. He continued up my leg to the back of my knee (a sensitive area for me; and he knew this; from experience he knew all my soft spots and learned how to work each of them accurately, successfully).

I had already begun to writhe from his touch. My free foot had since found it's way past his hip as he crawled upwards. I now secured his big cock between the arch of my foot and his strong thigh. I pressed hard, moving my foot slowly so as to roll his log side to side... occasionally releasing the pressure only to stomp back down again. I felt the heat of his blood-filled tube through the thin fabric of his boxers. I felt his shape, his girth, his flexing. I felt his thigh flex too, as he crawled further up my body, pressing his cock ever harder into my foot.

With a huff, he suddenly pulled back, shucking his shorts down onto the floor, then resumed lapping up to and around my balls. My foot reclaimed his boner only for a few seconds... long enough though to feel the increased heat burning inside his tube. He then reached for both my legs and raised them high... pushing them up so my knees touched my chest. I stretched-out my arms, reaching above my head and extended my spine; my shoulders against the bed and pillows while his giant hands held strong around the backs of my knees. I looked up into his eyes staring deeply into mine. The light of the sun rising pink and orange through the nearby window made this mountain-man look like an ancient painting. Stern and lust, even devotion registered on his face. His eyes holding me in trance. But again... only for a few short seconds.

He shifted backward, laying on his belly. He looked over my body, down past my drooling cock, my balls, down... down to what he really wanted. The one thing I knew he wanted. Every morning since that first time he found the courage to make his way into my room, onto my bed, this is what he yearned for; what he waited impatiently every night until the sun rose from its slumber.

The first time was shocking and new to me, but I loved every fucking minute of it. As embarrassed as I was during his breakfast on me, I yearned for him to have seconds, and thirds!

His nose pushed aside my rolling-nuts as his pointed-tongue traced circles around my hole. I'd learned to relax my pucker for him, but I also found he loved it when I'd tighten and release while he licked and savoured me. So of course I responded by kissing his tongue, again and again, with the wrinkled-lips of my butt-hole.

He would eventually lock his lips around my hole and swab the flat of his tongue up and down, side to side, slow, than quick. I'd hear him swallow his spit and I'd feel the low-groans from deep in his throat vibrate into me. My balls would pull-up tight and rattle from the waves of his low tone. I felt my tool weep against my belly, and I longed to feel his tool weeping against me as well.

As if reading my thoughts, his hands slid down my sides to my hips and pulled me down toward him. Reclaiming my ankles he pushed them higher... my knees on the pillow near my ears and my weight down on my shoulders. I held my legs for him as his hands traced down my body; one out-stretched and smoothing over my chest, my belly, the other pulling my staff down, and leaned over to suckle the drooling-knob.

And I felt it... the tip of his raging boy-pleaser bounce against my spine. A dab of pre-cum dotted and clung to my skin. Each time he moved away, his drool would rope between us and it's weight would string low, then slap against me with each new contact.

He crawled up on his knees and pressed the full-length of his rod against my spine and humped forward-and-up, using his juice to slicken the motion... his mouth working up and along my own toy the whole time. I knew my nuts were pulled way up-high to either side of my root. I felt his spit slobber down my slab and over my tight sac, down to salve my pink-hole.

Another motion and I felt his thumb against my pucker. Using the spit from his busy mouth he traced circles around and around. I did my best to keep still, but my hips twisted with the pleasure just the same.

That selfish part of me started begging for it. Begging and pleading for the pressure of his thumb to push into my body. To stretch my ring with his tender-incessant touch. To search deeper so I could feel his knuckle pass through. So I could feel his palm rest along the cleft of my cheeks. So I could feel it's tip bend at the knuckle and press up, then down against my insides. The motion that always made my dick spew a fat glop of clear-goo. This would make him happy. This would make him groan as the flavour and texture slid across his tongue and that in turn would reverberate through my tool, causing yet another blob to gush forth.

My back felt icy-cold with the coolness of his drool. It had slid along my spine and pooled on the sheet. This wet-spot is something I actually look forward to every morning. (The simple fact that he was drooling for me.)

This time however, it was his index finger I felt. Then his other joined in as well. He see-sawed first one then the other into my shaved-hole as he quickly lapped at the underside of my dick-head... the piss-hole getting a swabbing on each up-stroke.

His fingers continued their alternate probing until he felt I was ready to be stretched, then he began pulling my hole in both directions at once. Those twin fat digits pulled stronger and stronger, forcing me to open up fast. He released my dong and it slapped sharply against my gut. I stared at his face and watched him peer into my straining pussy-hole. I watched as a wad of spit began to string from his lips and he dangled it with expert-precision toward my opening.

I loved it when he did this... filling his cock's pleasure-sleeve with his own wetness. Sometimes he'd press his mouth around my boy-hole and suck his spit back out... only to drool it back in again. This time he used his fingers to be sure his gob sank as deep into my belly as gravity would allow.

Hooking my one foot under the bar at the top of my headboard, my freed hand reached behind to grasp for his dick. It was ram-rod strong and I knew I could bring him off so easily. Following his cock's aim I found his goo against my back and used my palm to spread it around. Then I wrapped my fingers as far around his thick fuck-rod and gave him my expert long-slow stroking... sliding against his tightened skin, I felt his whole body buck in response.

He pulled away from me and aimed his monster-tool upward and off he went. I quickly reached for his shaved sac and held his goods as the long, heavy-ropes of thick-white nut-syrup began splashing on my tailbone and into my butt's crack. The expression on his face made me proud, and my pride made him appreciate me all the more.

Not relieving himself of that concentrated look on his rugged face, he smoothed his sperm around my butt... polishing my rump and making it sparkle in the early morning sunlight that was steadily getting brighter. I could smell the sperm that glazed my skin and gasped deeply as his tongue once again captured my attention... lapping his seed off my butt, from tail up to my balls his tongue dragged in a masculine and muscular infatuated-daze. Then he leaned way-over so he could land a big-wet kiss onto my lips. His tongue stabbed into my mouth and fed me like a baby bird... giving me a protein breakfast to start my day off right.

After his mouth was empty from his gentle kiss, he moved farther up so I could suck that fat juicy cock-knob of his. Ultra-sensitive as it was, and begining to loose it's strength, I sucked with devotion as he knelt there over my balled-up frame. His dick began to soften quickly and I toyed with it by knocking it about with my tongue... he always enjoyed the way that felt, and he chuckled while kissing my feet.

With a deep sigh he crawled over to sit next to me. Digging one arm around my hips he pulled my dick as close to my chin as he could. Knowing the drill, I used my own arms to hold my position as he began pulling on my bone and at the same time pulling it closer-still by hooking two fingers into my cunt and pulling up. His hand always felt great, and when my orgasm reached that point he aimed my cum-hole at my open mouth and rubbed hard at my magic button deep inside.

My body tried to spasm with the force of my nut-busting ejaculation, but I was forced so tightly into a ball that it was impossible. I shivered and whimpered and gritted my teeth as my ball-butter screamed out of my aching-prong. Like my brother, my dick-head also becomes ultra-sensitive and he loved the idea of draining my strength as well as my seed by relentlessly rubbing it over and over again. "That a boy" he'd purr as my eyes welled with tears of endurment. "Aaaaat a boooooy".

When he finally stopped this fantastic-torture he smirked at how I had covered myself with spooge. Since my mouth had closed during orgasm my face and chest were covered like icing. He slowly un-wound my limbs and laid me out, then began lapping me dry of all my nut-grunt... only to bring it to my mouth and once again, lovingly fill me with another dose of protein.

The last of our ritual was one of my favourites. Not that the previous steps were any less, but when he'd finished loving and probing my body and my senses, he would pull me into his arms and we'd spoon until the familiar alarm of the clock clanged the start of a new day.

Our parents had always stressed the importance that a breakfast of champions would raise good strong kids. Well, my brother is proof of that, and I know I'm going to grow up to be just like him someday.

Not too-soon though, I hope. bi/ Joe's Bridge