All the air in my lungs vanishes. I knew exactly what he is talking about. The precise moment. The specific day. The point in time where the universe tilted and never righted itself.
He’d been seventeen, maybe eighteen. Home for Christmas break from his first year at university. I’d walked into the kitchen looking for Marco and found Ginni instead, standing at the stove making hot chocolate and wearing an oversized sweater that somehow managed to be both completely modest and absolutely devastating. He’d looked up when I walked in, smiled that bright, uncomplicated smile, and asked if I wanted some.
I’d said no and left the room immediately. Spent the rest of the evening avoiding the kitchen and trying not to think about the way that sweater had slipped off his shoulder or the way he’d looked at me like I was someone worth smiling at.
That was probably the beginning. The moment I realized that Marco’s little brother had grown up into someone dangerous to my peace of mind.
Now he is dangerous to my safety. Destructive to my freedom. Detrimental to everything I thought I knew about myself.
“See? I knew you remembered.” Ginni’s smile is nuclear.
He positions himself between my forcibly spread legs. Kneeling on the mattress. His expression is sweet and innocent. His eyes are anything but.
He bends down. Metal clangs against metal as I try to free myself. An absurd thought flies through my mind. Ginni is bending over now, and his skirt is so short. Anyone standing at the end of the bed would be able to see his underwear. If he is wearing any.
Then Ginni pokes his tongue out and gives my cock a kitten lick. A barely there touch that is still hot, wet and annihilating.
I grunt. My hips move and blood rushes to fill my cock.
Ginni makes a sound of pure delighted glee. He licks me again. One long lick all the way from root to tip. A caress along my rapidly filling cock.
“Fuck! How did you learn to do that?”
Marco’s little brother should not be good at sucking cock. That’s all kinds of fucked up. He is unhinged, but he is innocent.
I know he is good at handjobs, a fact I’m desperately trying to delete from my memory, but blowjobs are much more intimate. Demeaning for the giver, even though I know I shouldn’t think like that. But hey, I was raised in an Italian mafia family. Toxic masculinity should be my middle name.
And I fucking hate the thought that Ginni has debased himself like this for other men. It is infuriating that any man had the audacity to use a Torrini in this way.
“YouTube,” he says happily. Then he wets his puffy lips.
“W… what?” I stutter.
“I learned this from YouTube.”
That’s it. I’m out of words. I’m never regaining the power of speech.
“There are YouTube tutorials on everything,” he says happily. “You can learn anything you want.”
I stare at him.
“Of course, for blowjobs they have to use fruit and be careful about what words they use.”
I blink. If he is right and he is not recalling some fever dream delusion, then this is much better than him learning from actual doing.
“So, no glory holes at uni?” I ask.
Ginni scowls ferociously. “What do you take me for? I love you, remember? No one else.”
“You said you experimented at uni.”
“It is so adorable that you are jealous,” Ginni grins.
I open my mouth to reply but he lowers his head and all my thoughts disintegrate. There is only Ginni’s wet, soft tongue on my cock.
Pleasure surges. My eyes roll back. All words of protest die on my lips. Ginni has set his mind on this, and it feels so damn good. I’m going to hell. And the journey is going to be euphoric.
Ginni licks and licks. Each glide of his tongue curls my toes and swells my cock. I’ve never had a man blow me before. Ginni is only getting started, and I can already tell it’s going to be amazing. The best blowjob of my life. Does this mean I am gay? Or that men are better at this because they have cocks of their own? Or is it only Ginni who has this effect on me?
