Inspired by reading many interesting posts on this site, I have taken the plunge and written down my own significant experience in this area.
I learned to masturbate on my own, discovering the joys by accident about age twelve. I never masturbated to dry climaxes earlier than this, and apart from frequent erections, can remember no sexual arousal whatsoever before that first full wank, complete with its surprising and messy climax. Like every other boy in history I quickly became addicted, and within a couple of weeks of that first time I was doing it two or three times a day. It was in this initial period of being a fully-fledged masturbating male that I first realised that everybody else was doing it too.
For me, 'everybody else' in this respect consisted of my four brothers (three older, one younger). Until my own first time, I had absolutely no idea of how much the older ones were doing it, but once I clocked what was going on, I couldn't see how I had missed it. Suddenly comments they made to each other about how long they spent in the bathroom and the bedclothes rustling at night all made sense. I felt kind of proud to be one of them, even though the subject was never spoken about openly. My two oldest brothers shared a room, and me and Johnny, a year older than me, also shared. (Our little brother was a lot younger and had his own room.) I thought Johnny was an OK kind of guy, but we weren't inseparable buddies. He had his own friends and so did I, and often we existed in the same space without really interacting. I had seen Johnny and the others naked hundreds of times, and there was no sense of shame or prudery in our house, but even though I knew they all masturbated easily as much as I did, I had never seen any of them actually in the act. And one night when I was 13, I went in to our room and saw Johnny lying naked on his bed with his back arched and his eyes closed, and his fist furiously pumping his large erection. When Johnny opened his eyes he didn't react to me standing there and staring. Although he was only 14, I thought at the time that his body looked manly and his cock looked massive, and I couldn't do anything but stare. Johnny returned the stare, still wanking fast, and after about half a minute of me opening the door, he gasped and bucked his hips, and unloaded copiously all over his stomach, still holding eye contact with me. Johnny collapsed on the bed and I left for the bathroom. I wanked immediately and at a furious speed, with a terrific climax, thinking of the amazing image of my brother's cock spurting all that cum.
Neither Johnny nor I mentioned the incident for some weeks afterwards, but we were both aware that we were each wanking nightly under our covers on opposite sides of the room. This unspoken arrangement lasted until one night when we were both stroking away, and Johnny stopped and flicked his light on. He was lying on top of the covers, and I saw his erection again. He reached under his mattress and fished out a mag. He spent some time turning the pages and wanking slowly, then he put the mag down and jerked really quickly. I watched him spurt again up his chest, and then watched as he licked his hand and mopped up the mess with his boxers. He was already asleep when I shot my load a few minutes after.
The next day I found the mag and looked through it while he was out. It was just tits and bums stuff, but it felt like a new world. I quickly lost my jeans and boxers, and sat there, on Johnny's bed, flicking the pages and wanking. The mag captivated me, so much so that I didn't really notice when Johnny came in; I just looked up and there he was in the door. I thought he would freak but he just looked a bit disinterested, and said to put it back when I'd finished. I shot a load even before he had closed the door on his way out. That night we were doing our usual under the covers thing when his light flicked on again. He got out the mag and sat up to look at it properly. I can't remember exactly how the conversation started, but one of us must have made some comment about one of the pictures. Within a couple of minutes he had invited me over to look at it with him. That was the first time we did it together. We just sat next to each other on his bed, the mag on the covers between us, each jacking our own cock. We spurted nearly at the same time, and Johnny passed me his boxers after he had mopped up. I went back to bed.
It didn't take long 'til it was every night. That same mag; we must have looked at every page hundreds of times. Then about two months after we started doing it together, Johnny scrounged a mag of one of our older brothers, and we had something new to look at. This was much harder stuff, and I remember one picture of a woman lying back, looking like she was in pain as a faceless guy fucked her with a monster thick cock. Johnny's orgasm was immense that time. His body was angled towards the mag and at the critical moment he shot a volley of cum over my legs, some of it landing on my balls, cock and hand. I didn't mind, but Johnny was embarrassed. He got his mop-up boxers, and wiped me clean while I was still wanking hard for my own orgasm. The contact of his hand on my leg was electric, and I think I moved up ten levels in arousal at that point. As he moved from wiping my leg to my hand, I took my hand away, and then it happened. Johnny's hand, inside the damp boxers, closed around my cock and wiped his cum off me, but then he didn't take his hand away, instead just looking at me. I was on the edge of an orgasm, but then we both stayed quite still, and then Johnny tightened his grip on me, and continued my wank himself. After about ten of his quick tight strokes, I shot into the boxers.
The next night, I did him, then he did me. It made sense. After a week, we were sitting face to face with our legs spread, with no longer any need for a mag to look at. We shuffled close with our legs across each other's, and, both right-handed, our fists on each other's dicks. At the beginning it was clumsy and boyish. But Johnny and I wanked like that for years, and after a while could read each other's bodies so easily we could pump each other to a climax at the same time. One time our oldest brother caught us, but he didn't say anything. Maybe they were doing it too.
I grew incredibly close to Johnny. By day we were still cool with each other, but at night our mutual masturbation opened up an emotional connection that I don't think I've ever had as strong as that with anybody else. We would wank each other off together, then sometimes kick back and relax naked as we chatted about the kind of intimate stuff that I wouldn't ever have spoken to any one else about. We spoke about sex and bodies, and feelings, and who we lusted after, and most memorably, we told each other when during the day we had had our other (solo) wanks, and what we'd been fantasizing about when we'd done it. After our chat we would often do it a second time. We always did it on his bed, and sometimes I would fall asleep with him afterwards. (They were special times, I think because the intimacy was completely non-sexual.) Our physicality never went beyond masturbation, but it still got adventurous. We would heighten each other's pleasure by playing with each other's nipples and balls, and, after a while, by inserting a finger in each other's hole. I knew his body as well as my own, maybe better. His cock grew to be longer and thinner than mine, and even though it felt different when I held him, it still felt as familiar as jerking my own. We went through the whole process of first girlfriends, first kiss and first sex during that time, still talking intimately while we wanked each other. I remember the night Johnny lost his virginity; he came back and woke me up to tell me, and we had a great wank as he gave me the details of what it felt like to bury your dick in a pussy. It seemed only natural that he shared this in this way.
We lived in that bedroom 'til Johnny was 20 and I was 19, and wanked together once or twice a night, four nights out of five for about six years. Then Johnny went away to uni; I went the following year and the family house was sold for something smaller. It was difficult to adapt to life without Johnny. For me an orgasm from masturbation had come to mean a shared experience, a process with my favourite guy during which I gave up control of my own climax and took responsibility for his, and where somehow our orgasms were joined together, one triggering another. Pure solo wanking did not seem to have this emotional aspect, although often the orgasms were hotter if I took my time. I missed Johnny like mad, and not just physically but because our sharing masturbation had given me a relationship with him that was simply not available elsewhere. I will be forever grateful for that. I feel that the way Johnny and I grew up bonded us far closer and stronger than with my other brothers, and I don't feel for one second that what we started that night with the mag was in any way dirty or shameful. I reckon that if a guy can't wank with his own brother, he can't do it with anyone.
We're both in our late thirties now, married, both with young sons of our own, and Johnny's eldest son will soon be of masturbating age. Johnny and I still wank together, if ever we get the chance to be together for an hour without being disturbed, and I still don't think there is anything wrong with it, even though I would be mortified if anyone found out. Once a year for the last eleven years we have had a holiday together, just Johnny and me for a week in a tent in the mountains. The purpose of this holiday is to renew our brotherhood with mountain walks, climbing, hiking and fishing etc, and while we don't get in a tent exclusively so we can wank together like we did when we were teenagers, it is still a hugely important part of our trip. We spend a lot of our time in naked mutual masturbation out in the open air, or under canvas or out in a boat, or wherever. It's become a very important week for both of us, and is understood by both our families to be protected time.
I've been prompted to write this by the knowledge of a sudden change of schedule that is likely to mean that Johnny and I will get the chance to have a wank together next week, our first since our latest camping trip about five months or so ago. I do not feel guilty that I am looking forward to holding his cock again, slipping my middle finger up his asshole and relishing the moment when our spunk splashes up our bodies. Bringing Johnny off is something I've been doing ever since I became sexually aware, and I will hopefully continue to do so until we can't get hard anymore. Thanks for reading.