Mr. Douglas, for this assignment you told us to write anonymously
about something we wouldn't normally talk about. Something raw
and personal; our secret feelings, deepest wishes, or most bitter
regrets. You told us to be as honest and explicit as possible. So
here it is, and just remember, you asked for it.
This is the story of how I had sex with my brother. Gasp! Yes I
know, shock, horror, outrage, etc. But it didn't just happen
because we were depraved perverts (though that was one of the
reasons), there was a line of cause and effect leading up to it,
a moving story of tragedy and triumph spanning several years. Or
something like that.
First off, I'm a girl. Second, keep your pants zipped for now
because the porny stuff doesn't come until later. I'm not going
to describe myself in detail for obvious reasons, but let me say
that I've always been outgoing, reasonably smart, and if I dare
say so, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Oh right, you want honesty.
Well, let's just say I've never had trouble getting guys. I
have had some trouble getting rid of them, but that's another
I didn't even know I had a brother until I was fifteen. Then bam,
my dad let it drop that there was this secret son of his out
there, apparently the result of an old extra-marital fling and a
broken condom. His name was Michael and his mother had a heart
attack or something, so all of a sudden this geeky twelve year
old kid I'd never seen before came to live with us, sleeping in
the room next door, sitting next to me at dinner, and basically
getting fawned over by my hippie parents like he was the best
thing since vegan ice cream. As you might imagine, I was none too
thrilled with the situation. In fact I pretty much hated the
Jealous, you say? Just a little.
When he started high school it got worse. He was shy and skinny
and lame, fresh meat for the crew I rolled with. I ripped on him
just as bad as anyone else, sometimes harder. Yes, I realize I
was a total cunt, but deep down what teenage girl isn't?
Things started to change when I found the pictures on his
computer. Dad had bought him this sick new PC because he was,
quote, 'technically gifted,' which was crap because all Michael
used it for was playing Warcraft and running a Lord of the Rings
fanpage. Meanwhile I was stuck with my mom's old laptop that
choked just loading Google. So I started sneaking onto Michael's
computer whenever I could, and naturally I poked around on it
until I found his porn.
I expected to see reclining muscular black guys or women with
donkeys or something, but what I found was even more shocking. He
had a few dozen images of a girl who looked a lot like me getting
naked, slobbing on some dude's wiener and even taking it up the
butt. And when I say she looked a lot like me, I mean A LOT. It
was creepy. And even worse, I was forced to imagine my nerdy
brother sitting there thinking of me as he pulled on his dick
(for some reason I imagined it being very pale and skinny, just
like him) and at first the thought made me wanna hurl.
But once the image was in my head I couldn't get it out, and
after a while it started to take on a life of its own. Every time
I looked at him--the illegitimate apple of my parent's eye, shy,
serious, studious Michael--I would get this ridiculous mental
image of him sitting at his computer, pants around his ankles,
his eyes bugging out as he ferociously masturbated to some geeky
fantasy of me dressed like a night elf or something. And I firmly
believed that at the moment of ejaculation he would raise a fist
into the air and scream "Level Up!" It was becoming awkward to be
around him, especially at the dinner table when I'd have to stuff
my fist in my mouth to keep from exploding into giggles.
I eased up on him a bit after I discovered his little lust-crush.
It explained a lot actually, like why he acted so profoundly
retarded around me. In a weird way it was kind of flattering.
Then another bomb dropped. Two weeks after I graduated, a doctor
visit showed that the reason Michael was so skinny and pale was
because he had Leukemia. He'd just turned fifteen. Happy Fucking
Birthday, kid. My parents were devastated. I pretty much ignored
it, and him. It was too much for me to deal with so I started
treating Michael like he was already gone. Which was fucked up,
but it was probably a more common response than most people
One night my mom took me aside and slapped the shit out of me.
Actually I think she only slapped me once, and probably not very
hard, but at the time it felt like serious abuse because I
couldn't remember her ever hitting me before. I do remember what
she said, though.
"You may not care right now, but you do have a brother and he's
very ill. Later on, if it turns out he di...doesn't make it, I
don't want you looking back and thinking about how horribly you
treated him, because if you have any heart at all you'll hate
Shocked and pissed, I stormed out and went to a friends place.
Later, stoned and drunk with my boyfriend trying to paw my tits,
I remember finally breaking down and bawling because I knew she
So almost three years after first meeting him, I cowgirled up and
started getting to know my brother. The next day I took him out
to lunch and a movie, and the day after, to the park. It was
awkward at first, but after a while we were talking and trading
jokes, trying to make each other laugh. He was actually a pretty
funny kid. He had a shy, geeky sense of humor that wasn't too
different from mine, and as the weeks went by I was a little
shocked to discover how much I was starting to like him.
He was struggling more with his illness, but we didn't let that
stop us from hanging out. I started calling him South Park
because the chemo was making him lose his hair and he'd taken to
wearing these wool hats that made him look like one of the kids
from the show. We also had to stay indoors to keep him from
getting sick. Most of the time we'd sit in the window at
Starbucks and rip on people we saw walking by, and I remember one
afternoon in particular. There was this creepy, really
pedo-licious old guy dragging a heavy overnight case and we were
trying to guess what was in it.
"I bet it's full of women's shoes. And toes," was my first guess.
"Candy bars, roofied candy bars." Was Michael's.
"Teen Vogue magazines, lube, and extra-small condoms."
"A dozen packs of Hello Kitty underpants."
"Hey, I think you're on to something there," I said. "His size or
"One pack is his, the rest are in husky boys sizes."
"Nice one." I knuckle bumped him and we sat quietly for a minute.
Then he said something I'll never forget.
"You might think this is stupid, but I'm actually kinda glad my
DNA decided to try and murder me."
I stared at him, and he glanced down shyly.
"Because otherwise we wouldn't be sitting here like this."
"You're right," I smiled, though I was trying hard not to cry.
"That's pretty stupid."
That summer I think my brother spent more time with me than he
did with anyone else. Michael didn't have many friends, no close
ones anyway, and he was so painfully shy that my few attempts to
help him get a girlfriend all ended in disaster. So the two of us
became total BFFs, and I found myself ditching my friends just so
I could take him places. And the funny thing was I didn't mind it
One day my mom hugged me and said I was a saint, and I told her
to shut the frog up.
"I'm not a saint, I'm a bitch." I corrected her. "But like they
say, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."
"Well," she answered, "I happen to think you're a very nice
bitch. And thank you."
A week later Michael was in the hospital with pneumonia. He got
better, but it was a reality check that made me realize that I
might not have a brother for very much longer. That, quite
frankly, sucked huge donkey balls. It wasn't a lot of fun for him
either. He kept up a good act for our parents but I could tell he
was getting depressed. By that time we'd already taken trips to
Disneyworld and everywhere else he wanted to go. I let him drive
my car even though he didn't have a learner's permit, something I
think the parents would have shit kittens over if they found out.
Anyway, the kid was starting to run down, and I was running short
Then it hit me. My boyfriend was always bugging me to send him
naked pictures for some reason, and when I remembered Michael's
photo stash of my slutty doppelganger, I figured what the hell.
I got my camera and did the typical MySpace type pics in the
bathroom mirror, shirt off, pouty, arm over my tits. Then I took
my arm away and flashed a peace sign. Click. Then I took my pants
and underwear off for a full body shot, front and back, tits and
ass. Nothing raunchy, but I was as naked as I could possibly get.
"I wanna send some pics to somebody," I said, barging into
Michael's room and being as obvious as possible. "Can I use your
He was lying there curled up on his bed like he was doing more
often those days, stoned and sick from the meds they gave him.
"Sure," he said, giving a weak thumbs-up.
So I copied the pictures off my camera, making sure to
'accidently' leave a set on his desktop where he couldn't
possibly miss them. It did feel weird, especially since we were
closer now, but I figured he might get some kind of kick out of
it. And if not, we could treat it like every other reprehensible,
horribly inappropriate act committed in a white
upper-middle-class family: just pretend it never happened.
At dinner I could tell by the embarrassed looks he was sneaking
at me that he'd found the pics. I pretended ignorance and things
went on pretty much as normal, except that he did seem to perk up
for a few days.
But it wasn't long before he was in the hospital again, this time
bleeding internally. The doctors fixed him up but they said it
was a close call. When I went to see him, the first thing I did
was give him a high-five.
"Congrats for not dying, bro."
"Thanks. There's a few movies coming out that I wanna see, so I
figured what the hell, might as well stay alive."
A cute young nurse came by to check in on him, smiling warmly as
she fussed over his tubes and wires.
"Plus the girls totally dig cancer," he added once she'd gone.
"It's a huge chick magnet."
"I can see that. If I wasn't here I think she would've hopped
right in bed with you."
"This adjustable mattress does have its advantages." He hit the
buttons, lifting and dropping the bed as he raised his eyebrows
suggestively. I laughed, snorted, and then punched him lightly on
the arm, suddenly near tears.
"You'd better not die, you little shit." I told him. "I'll never
He smiled. "It's not high on my list of things to do, believe
I believed him, but I knew it might still happen anyway.
The day after he got out I coincidentally had to send another
batch of pictures. For these ones I went full out, legs open and
cunt to the camera, some bent over ass-up with my butthole
showing and everything. I felt positively slutty, but it was for
a good cause. I thought of it as the Make-A-Boner Foundation.
Michael had come home feeling better, but that day he stayed
holed up in his room until dinner, door closed, music cranked up
loud. I had a fairly good idea what he was doing in there, and I
felt rather pleased with myself because of it. Weird, huh?
He came to the dinner table looking flushed and guilty, and I
felt assured that for most of the afternoon he'd been ruthlessly
molesting himself. Mission accomplished.
Clueless, my mother made a comment that almost killed me.
"I'm glad to see you're getting your color back," she said,
feeling his face. "Were you exercising today?"
He blushed fiercely and I almost choked to death on my spaghetti.
When I could talk again, I added a comment of my own.
"You know, I think he was doing pushups earlier...I definitely
heard some kind of activity coming from his room."
Michael looked like he wouldn't have minded being back in the
hospital, or anyplace but there at the table.
"Just trying to work on my physique," he muttered, flexing his
"Aww. Sometimes you're so cute I could just scream," I said
truthfully, rubbing his fuzzy scalp. He smiled and his cheeks
turned the most adorable bright red. I suddenly
realized that I had a serious girl boner going on.
For my brother.
Now for a quick word about my boyfriend at the time, Brandon. He
was the surfer type, though he did more couch surfing than
anything else. His idea of a great time was smoking weed and
playing Call of Duty. He wasn't too bright, but he was unbearably
hot and had a killer bod, which made up for a lot. Unfortunately
he wasn't too good in bed; his idea of foreplay was trying to
stick his thumb up my butt and his technique was usually of the
five-minutes-or-less variety. Predictably this led to a lot of
sexual frustration on my part, but he was hot and he liked to get
high, so he made a good escape whenever things got too real at
home. Did I mention he was hot?
Anyway, the little slut between my legs was making more of my
decisions for me than usual, which now leads us to the next part.
A few weeks later we got some great news: Michael's cancer had
gone into remission. We started planning this big exciting trip
for his sixteenth birthday, because, you know, he was actually
going to have a sixteenth birthday.
Then, shitty luck. Or great luck, depending on how you look at
it. Two days before the date, our grandfather had a stroke. It
was minor and he recovered quickly, but we still ended up pushing
the trip back for a week while mom and dad flew out to see him.
This suited me just fine because it meant Michael and I would be
left to ourselves, and by then I'd come up with plans of my own.
I'd been talking with one of my girlfriends about what I could do
for a guy on his birthday. I could tell she thought I meant
Brandon, and believe me I had no intention of correcting her. She
told me that last year she'd made a teddy for herself out of
wrapping paper and tied a ribbon around her waist, then let her
boyfriend 'open' her. I liked that idea. A lot.
We spent Michael's birthday at our aunt's house where he got so
much love and presents it was disgusting. He deserved it though.
I made an excuse and ducked out a little early, and he wanted to
stay and hang out for a while, which was perfect. I'd been
dropping hints that there'd be a special present for him at home
that night. I tried to be mysterious and a little flirty at the
same time, but I don't know how well I pulled it off. He just
kept looking at me like he thought I was weird.
I drove home and got ready regardless, constantly having to bully
myself to keep from chickening out. I shaved my junk, showered,
and made myself up a little, then put on the red satin nightie
I'd chosen and tied it closed with a big white ribbon. I wrapped
up the other present I'd gotten in a more traditional way; it was
jumbo box of Trojans, ultra thin, lubricated. Hey, I may be a
pervert, but at least I'm a responsible one.
I went into Michael's room, put on some music, turned off the
light, and got on his bed to wait for him with the condoms on my
lap. I laid there for about an hour, nervous as hell and hoping
all the while that I wasn't making a godawful mistake.
Finally I heard the front door slam, and for the first time it
occurred to me that he might not be alone. Oh My Fucking God.
What if he walked in the room with one of our cousins or a friend
or something? I would die immediately.
I strained my ears listening but I didn't hear any voices, just
the sound of a single pair of footsteps coming up the stairs and
down the hall. My heart was still racing when I heard the knob
turn. The door opened, and there was Michael silhouetted for a
moment against the dim light in the hall. I don't think he knew I
was there until he closed the door and turned on the light.
Then he saw me, lying on his bed in nothing but a sheer red
nightie that ended at my upper thighs; the neck hanging open just
enough to see the top of my tits.
"Happy birthday." I said, using what I hoped was a sexy voice.
I could literally see the blood drain out of his face. For a
second I was scared he might faint.
"Hey, come here and sit down. You okay?"
He sat awkwardly at the foot of the bed and stared down at my
"I'm ok," he said, looking as shaky as one of those baby
antelopes you see on the Discovery Channel. "Just, um,
"Well here's another shocker," I said, feeling the need to keep
talking. "I've been leaving dirty pictures on your computer. On
"I saw. That was...thoughtful." He smiled a little and I saw his
eyes move up to my knees. We were making progress.
"Well, which one do you want to open first?" I asked, giving the
box a little shake before glancing down at myself.
"That one," he said quickly, pointing at the box. I gave it over
and he opened it clumsily.
"Oh. Condoms." He cleared his throat nervously. I could tell he
was trying to act cool, but his voice was so tight it was almost
squeaky. "Are these for future or immediate use?"
"Immediate, I think."
"Cool." His eyes traveled up to the hem of my nightie. He reached
out like he wanted to touch my leg, but at the last moment he
dropped his hand to his lap again, looking embarrassed.
"I have absolutely no idea what to do," he confessed.
"No worries. Here." I sat up and gently took his hands, which
were shaking. "First you untie the bow, like this." I guided his
hands through the motions, feeling a strange thrill as his
fingers fumbled and finally untied it.
"Then you unwrap it, like this." Still using his hands, I pulled
open the nightie far enough that he could see all my goodies. I
thought his eyes were going to fall right out of his head.
Something about the way he was looking at me, the way I could
feel him trembling, was really, really turning me on. It made me
feel sexy in a way that I'd never really felt before. I've had
guys tell me I was hot or sexy or whatever, and then they'd
usually just maul my tits or try to jam their hand up my crotch.
Anyway it was something I'd heard a lot, but never really felt.
But Michael was acting like just looking at me was enough to make
him jizz his shorts, and that made me feel pretty special.
Suddenly he looked up at my face, started to say something then
"Go ahead," I said, smiling though I was afraid he might say no
thanks or something and leave to go play some WII.
He looked to the side and blushed. "I was just wondering...if it
would be ok to kiss you."
Squee. So. Fucking. Cute.
"I think it would be very ok. " Actually at that point I think it
was more like super-big-time-do-it-or-I-will-have-to-rape-you ok.
I was hornier than I'd been in a looong time, in fact I was
practically gushing. Gross, I know, but accurate.
So we kissed. He was awkward at first but he got the hang of it
quick. It reminded me of my first real kiss, uncertain, slow, and
a little sloppy, but eager and full of energy. I pulled his hands
to my tits and held them there. He got the hang of that pretty
fast too. I settled back onto the bed, pulling him down over me,
and still kissing I kidnapped one of his hands to slide it down
my stomach and between my legs. A moment later his hand was on my
coochie, and he broke the kiss and looked down.
"I'm touching your vagina," he said, looking back up at me with a
slow grin like he couldn't quite believe it.
"Really?! No way!" I responded, pretending to be shocked. "Oh,
wait a minute, I guess you are." I kissed him again, sliding my
tongue into his mouth and moaning as he put his fingers to work,
petting and stirring me in a way that drove me crazy.
I was about three seconds away from rolling Michael on his back
and jumping on him when he pulled back a little and starting
moving his mouth down over my neck. I let my arms fall to my
sides and lay there breathless as he went over my chest, making
my whole body shiver as he licked and sucked on my nipples. As
clueless as he had been at the beginning, he was doing pretty
damn good so far.
Then he continued downward, and when I felt his mouth settle in
over my pussy I wondered why I hadn't done this sooner. He went
at it like it wasn't foreplay but the real deal, and whatever he
lacked in skill he more than made up for in enthusiasm. He wasn't
down there long before I was ready to nut.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum." I said, and it came out in a weird
growl that made it sound like a threat. His tongue didn't stop
though, and a minute later I was shaking and biting his pillow
like a rabid terrier. Ever come so hard you can taste colors? I
swear my mouth was full of lavender for a good thirty seconds,
maybe my brain blowing a fuse or something. It wasn't the biggest
O I'd ever had, but it was definitely one of the most memorable.
"Was that ok?" Michael asked.
"Uhhm. I think I chewed a hole through your pillow...does that
answer your question?"
He grinned. "I believe so."
I sat up on my elbows and gave him my best
come-over-here-and-fuck-me look. "I think its time to use your
first present," I said, wetting my lower lip with my tongue.
Michael picked up the box of condoms and opened it, then sat
there staring at the foil wrappers like he had no clue how they
"This will probably require you to get naked." I said helpfully.
Blushing, he stood next to the bed and began to strip down. He
was skinny and pale but there was some muscle on him, enough to
keep him from looking too much like a scarecrow. He slid his
underwear down and his cock popped up, standing straight out from
its fuzzy nest like a pink missile. I was pleasantly surprised to
see that it was neither skinny nor short.
I sat up and took charge of the condoms, taking one out and
putting it on him as gently as I could. From the way he was
straining in my hand it felt like he might go off any second, and
I wanted him to be inside me when that happened. I pulled him
down over me and he found his way in easily, no lube required.
He started moving and I held him tight, watching his face and
pumping my hips when I thought he was getting close. It wasn't
every day that I got to take my kid brother's virginity, and I
wanted to make it good for him. After a minute he stiffened and I
wrapped my legs around his waist to take him in deeper, slowly
kissing the side of his face as I felt him twitching inside me.
He shuddered for what felt like a long time before relaxing with
"Was that ok?" I asked.
He fell limp on top of me and gave a long drawn out moan.
"Okaaay, I'll take that as a yes."
He slowly pulled out and rolled over, lying on his side, looking
cute and kinda silly laying there all skinny and pale with the
condom still on. I peeled it off him and carefully tied it
closed, noting with some satisfaction that he'd cum quite a lot.
"You're not going to regret this or anything, are you?" He asked
I settled back and starting playing with his short fuzzy hair.
"No. Why should I?"
"Because of...certain reasons."
I took that to mean the whole incest thing. "Nope."
"Okay. I was asking because there are still a lot of condoms
"And it would be a shame to waste them, right?"
"It wouldn't be economically responsible, no."
"God, you are such a nerd. Come here."
We started kissing again, and in about five minutes we were using
another condom. He went slow and steady and lasted a long time,
making me cum again just before he did.
Ten minutes after that were on our third condom. I rolled on top
of him and took over, riding him like he was a skinny rocking
horse. I might have cum twice that time, but it was all starting
to blur at that point. The kid was a freak. Just when I thought
he'd had enough his wiener would pop back up again. I couldn't
complain though, after all it was his birthday.
It was after three in the morning when he finally fell asleep,
which was a relief because my junk was starting to go numb. By my
count we'd gone through at least seven condoms, and when I tried
to get up my legs were so wobbly that I just stayed and passed
out on his bed. By the way, he is a total blanket hog. The next
day we were both sore, but I think it was safe to say my present
went over well.
So in conclusion: incest. And it still happens. Often. Call it
sick, wrong, anti-American, whatever--but it doesn't feel like
any of those things. It feels good. I don't recommend it for
everyone, but if you have a mutual urge, why not? It might make
Christmas a little awkward but what the fuck, if I've learned
anything from this it's that you only live once and nobody knows
how long you've really got.
About my boyfriend? I dumped him. Michael has unofficially taken
over that role and he's a lot better at it than I would have
expected. Sure, we have to keep it on the down-low, but he's
starting college next semester and we're going to get an
apartment together. We are going to have so much sex its unreal.
Am I worried that people might find out? Yeah, of course. It
would be drama city. But I love that little bastard more than I
care to admit, so whatever happens, happens.
By the way, last month my brother took my anal virginity and
I fucking loved it. How's that for a closing statement?
Peace out, Mr. D.
The end. home