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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Victory Girl
by Your Ghost (address withheld)
***
Wendy's brother returns from Afghanistan and she
redefines what it means to support our troops. (MF,
inc, 1st, rom, military)
***
I'd gotten up early, showered, shaved my legs, powdered
and perfumed, did my hair and put on makeup, and now I
stood in the doorway of my closet in just my panties,
hands on hips, staring at all the blouses and t-shirts
and pants and dresses I owned. A hundred articles of
clothing, more than a thousand dollars worth, and I had
absolutely nothing to wear. Nothing appropriate,
anyway. Not for today.
Today Kevin was coming home, and I wanted to look my
total best. He'd been gone for two years, most of that
time spent overseas, in Afghanistan. He'd enlisted in
the Army a week after the September 11th terrorist
attacks (ironically, September 11th, 2001 happened to
be his eighteenth birthday), and he'd been gone ever
since. I cried at the airport as I told him goodbye,
then cried all the way home even though Mom and Dad had
done their best to reassure me that he would be safe. I
was fourteen years old then.
We'd kept in touch by writing letters, mostly me
writing to him and him answering when he could. He
didn't have a whole lot of spare time, especially after
he went to Afghanistan, but he did his best, and I
usually got two or three letters a month.
They mostly said the same things: the country was
beautiful in its own way, the local people were usually
nice and friendly, his Army buddies were all a bunch of
fun, crazy guys, and he liked being a soldier, he felt
it gave his life an important meaning, especially when
he could do things to help make people's lives better.
He never wrote anything about the war itself; every
once in a while he would refer to some mission that he
was either getting ready for or had just returned from,
but that was it. I knew, of course, that Kevin was in
combat on a regular basis, risking his life fighting
terrorists, but I was glad that he chose not to share
any of that with me. It made things easier.
I was also glad for one other thing he wrote about in
his letters: his feelings for me. He never failed to
tell me how much he loved me and missed me, and even
though he liked what he was doing, he couldn't wait to
get back home and see me again. He said things like, "I
miss you with all of my heart," and, "I think about you
all the time." He called me "sweetheart" and
"Beautiful," and said that he had proudly shown his
buddies a picture of me.
And once, according to a letter I'd gotten just two
months before he came home, some guy named Dolf had
said he'd like to "knock me down and then knock me up"
and Kevin had said, "How about I knock you down
instead?" and then punched him right in the mouth.
"After that incident," Kevin wrote me, "everybody
started referring to you as my girlfriend, and you know
what, Wendy? I kind of like that.
Newbies are coming in all the time, and since I haven't
once denied what the other guys have said, they all
think you're my girlfriend, and I'm fine with that. I
know that sounds messed up, but it's the truth. That's
how I feel about you, sweetheart." I had written back
to him that I didn't think it was messed up at all. In
fact, I had sort of done the same thing; I had several
friends that I knew on line and I'd told all of them
that I had a boyfriend in the Army. So for the last few
months that was pretty much how we'd been writing to
each other, as if we were boyfriend and girlfriend,
separated by the war. Longing to see each other again.
"Silly," I told myself as I finally settled on a pair
of jeans and a pink tank-top, pulling them off their
hangers and tossing them onto my bed. "Silly and
romantic."
I closed the closet door and looked at myself in my
full length mirror. I wasn't a raving beauty or
anything, but I could admit that I was pretty. I had
shoulder length blonde hair that, with enough work,
usually did what I wanted it to, and a round, chipmunk
face, a small nose and large brown eyes, and (thank
God) good skin. I had a decent body too, slim and
curvy, although if I had my way I'd be about ten pounds
lighter. All in all, I supposed I wasn't too hard to
look at. I hoped Kevin would think so too.
I put the jeans on, then inspected myself in the mirror
again, checking the fit. They were a little snug,
accentuating every curve and contour, but they didn't
make me look fat anywhere. Next I put on my shoes and
socks, then the tank-top. The tank-top was snug too; in
fact, it was tight enough that anyone looking at me
would immediately be able to tell that I wasn't wearing
a bra.
I had nice boobs, full and round and firm, not a bit of
sag, but still, I wasn't sure if I should be walking
around showing them off so much. A lady was supposed to
be modest, according to my mom. And it wasn't exactly
appropriate to be showing them off to Kevin like that.
But then again, I told myself as I studied my boobs in
the mirror, if I was totally honest I had to admit that
Kevin was the one I wanted most to show them off to.
"More silliness," I said to my reflection. I put on the
bra, rechecked my face and my hair, made sure
everything was okay, then turned and left my bedroom,
on my way to welcome my darling brother home from the
war.
***
The trip north on Interstate 5 wasn't too bad, since it
was a Sunday and there wasn't much traffic. Dad drove,
Mom sat in the passenger seat, and I sat in back, all
alone, reading a magazine. Dad had the radio tuned to a
country music station, which made it nearly impossible
for me to concentrate on my magazine, and finally after
about twenty minutes I gave up. I sat back in my seat
and let my mind wander, and of course it wandered right
to Kevin.
I imagined what our reunion at the airport would be
like: I would see him first as he came off the plane,
wearing his Army dress uniform; I would scream in
delight and run to him, at which point he would see me
and get the biggest smile on his face he's ever had. He
would hold his arms out wide and I would run into them.
We would hug me fiercely, he would actually hug me too
hard, squeezing all the air out of me as he kissed me,
right on the mouth. Then he would swing me around in
his arms, gently land me on my feet, then let go of me
a little so he could get a good look at me. He would
say, "Wendy, you're even more beautiful than I
remember."
Or something like that. All very sweet and loving. Not
too much different from how a brother would greet his
sister. Was it? Of course, I knew the answer: it was
way too romantic, too intimate. Kevin would never greet
me that way, and even if he would, Mom and Dad would
fall down dead from strokes. But how would I react?
Would I really want Kevin to hug me and kiss me that
way? Probably not, I told myself. In reality, I would
have a stroke too. But for some reason, it was nice to
think about.
As we got closer to the airport my mind drifted further
into the fantasy. After saying that I was more
beautiful than he remembered, Kevin would kiss me
again, and slowly slide his hands up and down my back.
I would feel his tongue against my lips and I would
open my mouth, take it in, and gently suck on it. And
Mom and Dad, instead of suddenly dying, would be
standing there watching us and smiling, proud of how
easy it was for their children to show their love for
each other.
Kevin would french-kiss me and caress me for a minute,
then reluctantly break the kiss and whisper in my ear,
"I can't wait to get you alone," and I would smile
shyly, knowing what he meant. Then he would embrace me
again, hold me close to his strong hard body, and I
would feel his erection pressing against me.
"That's enough of that," I told myself. I picked up my
magazine and shut out the country music as I pretended
to read.
***
We finally got to the airport and parked about a mile
away from the terminal. The walk from our car to the
gate where Kevin's plane would be landing seemed to
take forever, even though I was walking kind of fast
and Mom and Dad had to keep up with me. When we got to
Gate 39 I immediately checked the arrivals and
departures board and found out that his plane was
scheduled to be on time. It was supposed to land at
10:15. I checked my watch: 10:09.
"Only six more minutes," I told my parents, barely able
to contain my glee. I actually bounced up and down on
my toes.
Mom and Dad both just stared at me for a moment before
they sat down in blue plastic chairs bolted to the
floor. Mom patted the one next to her with her
fingertips and said, "Sit down, dear."
"I can't," I said. "I'm too excited."
I started wandering around the waiting area, crossing
and uncrossing my arms, or moving them up and down like
big slow wings. I stopped doing that, though, when I
accidentally hit a guy in the side of the head. He
looked at me like I was a total asshole and I
apologized, then he let his eyes rove down to my boobs
and he half smiled and said, "That's okay, dear." The
guy was my dad's age and obviously a perv, but I didn't
care. I was too glad.
I wandered around for another few moments, dodging and
weaving around all the other people waiting for their
own loved ones or friends or whatever, then sat down
next to my mom. She put her arm around me and leaned
toward me, apparently to say something into my ear, but
suddenly I heard a huge noise coming from outside and I
looked and there was his plane. It was moving slowly
toward the window, its round nose pointed straight at
me, and it was so close I could see the pilot and co-
pilot in the cockpit. I jumped up, accidentally bumping
Mom with my shoulder, and squealed.
"He's here!" I said way too loud. Once again I couldn't
resist bouncing up and down on my toes, and suddenly
there was perv-o-guy again, standing a little off to my
left, staring at my bouncing boobs. I still didn't
care, though.
Mom and Dad stood up too and we, along with a crush of
other people, moved over to the door Kevin would be
coming through. My heart was beating hard in my chest
as I held each of my parents' hands, suddenly feeling
silly now for the way I'd been acting. Sure, it was
okay to be excited, but Kevin was my brother, not my
boyfriend. Besides, I was sixteen years old, a woman
practically, and it wouldn't do to have him see me
acting like a kid. So I took a few deep breaths, calmed
myself down, and waited as maturely as I could. I
didn't even complain when my parents, without thinking,
stepped in front of me, obviously wanting to be the
first ones to greet him.
After about fifty million years, the door opened and
the passengers started coming out. There were all sorts
of them, men, women, kids, young and old, even several
soldiers that someone might have mistaken for Kevin.
None of them were Kevin, though, until nearly the very
last person came out. That was him. And I didn't
scream. I just stood there, my hands clasped together
in front of me, as Mom and Dad stepped forward, both of
them making excited greeting noises as they held their
arms out to him. Mom went first, hugging him fiercely
and kissing his cheek, then Dad, a more restrained,
manly hug, no kiss, pats on the back. Once that was
done my parents stepped to each side and gestured
toward me and I heard Dad say, "You're sister's here,
too," and suddenly it was my turn.
Oh my God, he was so handsome, with his blonde hair
(now cut totally short), his bright blue eyes and his
strong masculine features. He was wearing his dress
uniform, just as I'd imagined, and while his smile
probably wasn't the biggest one he'd ever had, he was
still smiling pretty big, obviously happy to see me. I
felt like running to him just like in my fantasy, but
like a dork I just stood there, motionless, my heart
pounding in my chest, my own dopey grin plastered to my
face. I couldn't even say hi.
"There she is," Kevin said. He came to me in two
strides, took me in his strong arms, and hugged me hard
as he said something like, "Wendy, I'm so glad to see
you, I've missed you so much."
At which point I did something totally unpredictable: I
burst into tears. I pressed my face against his chest
and held him lightly as I wept, not understanding what
I was doing or why. Kevin, bless him, just shushed me
and stroked my hair and softly told me, "You're
alright, sweetie, you're alright now." I didn't cry for
a long time, less than a minute, really, and when I was
done I looked up at him, embarrassed by my
unexplainable behavior. But Kevin just smiled down at
me and even laughed a little.
"What do you say we get going?" Dad piped up. "It's
going to be a long drive home."
"Just let me get my bag," Kevin said, letting me go
almost as if he was reluctant to do so.
We all followed him to baggage claim, where it seemed
like everyone in the world had gathered to collect
their luggage. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to locate
Kevin's bag; it was an Army duffel bag, and there were
only five or six of those. The soldiers they belonged
to were there as well, and one of them, a very pretty
blonde girl with PFC stripes on her sleeve, gave Kevin
a long appreciative look. I stared daggers at her until
Kevin took me by the wrist and said, "Okay, let's get
out of here."
He held my hand as we followed Mom and Dad on the
impossibly long walk back to the car. When we got there
Dad suggested that Kevin get up front with him and Mom
could sit in the back with me, but Kevin put his arm
around my waist and said, "No, that's okay. I wanna sit
with my buddy."
I didn't really like being referred to as his buddy,
but I smiled anyway because he had his arm around my
waist. We got in the back seat and Mom and Dad got in
the front and we made the long drive down Interstate
Five with Kevin's arm over my shoulders. He talked most
of the way, since Dad had said he wanted to hear
everything about Kevin's time away.
Most of what he said was similar to what he'd told me
in his letters, about how the country was beautiful and
the people were great and all that. Believe it or not,
I was sort of bored, and even a little miffed with Dad
for taking all of Kevin's attention.
When we got back to the house we ate a buffet lunch
that Mom and I had prepared the night before, then came
a long hour of sitting in the living room and talking.
Again, Mom and Dad hogged my brother, but I got to sit
next to him on the sofa and occasionally catch his eye
and smile sweetly at him, or take one of his hands and
give it a quick squeeze. And once I told him, "I'm just
so glad you're home and safe," and I nearly started
crying again. There was also at least two times when
Dad told Kevin that he was proud of him for serving his
country, which also got my eyes all watery.
I'd never been that much of a crybaby before.
Finally, Kevin said he wanted to go visit some friends
of his, and he asked me if I wanted to come along.
"Sure," I said, forcing myself not to shout.
Kevin went upstairs to his old room to change out of
his uniform. When he came back down he was wearing
jeans and a blank olive green t-shirt that was totally
tight on him. With his buzz cut and his bulging muscles
he looked more like a Marine than an Army soldier, but
I still thought he was the handsomest guy I'd ever seen
in my whole life.
I smiled when I saw him, and I knew that the way I was
looking at him was closer to how I would look at a hunk
I wasn't related to than my own brother, but I couldn't
help it. Kevin didn't seem to mind, and even gave me a
kind of flirty smile in return, which made me blush.
"Come on, kid," he said, "let's move out."
He headed out the front door and I followed obediently.
***
Once we were on our way I asked Kevin if he was going
to visit some of his old high school friends.
"Nah," he said, watching the road through very cool
looking aviator sunglasses, "I don't see any of them
anymore. I got some buddies from my unit staying in
town."
"Army buddies, huh?" I said. "Are they cute?"
Kevin shrugged and said, "You'll probably think so." He
glanced over at me. "But listen, these guys may be good
guys and all, but they're still guys, you know what I'm
saying?"
"That they're not girls?" I answered with a big grin.
"No, silly. I mean, they're gonna take one look at you
and forget every other girl they've ever known. They're
gonna try to charm their way into your pants."
My heart skipped a beat at Kevin's bluntness. I also
thought he was totally wrong; more likely, they'd take
one look at me and run for their lives.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't do anything," Kevin went
on. "That's totally up to you. But if you do decide to
get involved with somebody, just make sure you pick the
right one."
"And which one would be the right one?"
Kevin stared through the windshield silently for a
while, apparently seriously considering my question.
Finally, he shrugged again and said, "None of em." He
paused again. "Nobody's good enough for you."
I smiled at his compliment, even though I knew that he
was once again totally wrong.
***
Of course, things didn't go the way Kevin thought they
would. His buddies, three of them, Sam, Greg and Mike,
were all very cute (as I'd predicted), but while they
were nice to me, they certainly didn't fall all over
themselves to get to me. They checked me out,
naturally, just like any guys would, but beyond that
they treated me exactly the way they should have
treated me: as Kevin's jailbait little sister (they
weren't newbies).
Normally, I would have been at least painfully
disappointed by such a development (I was, after all, a
sixteen year old girl in the presence of three very
attractive and unrelated adult males), but actually I
was as glad for the guys' polite indifference as Kevin
was. As long as my brother was home, I wanted to be
able to give him my full attention.
Not that he gave me much attention while he was with
his friends. He didn't completely ignore me, but he
came close; sitting with Sam and Greg and Mike on the
sofa of the small apartment Greg rented, sipping beers
(Kevin only had one the whole time we were there,
because he was driving) and talking about girls and
sports and the parties they'd most recently attended
and girls and video games and girls. I was once again
sort of bored, and unhappy that all the time I was
spending with my brother was leaving me so unhappy.
The visit finally ended, with Kevin giving each of his
buddies a manly hug and slap on the back, and me shyly
waving goodbye before Kevin took my hand and led me out
to the car.
The next stop, Kevin announced, was "some place
downtown," where we could get something to eat. As we
got underway Kevin asked me, "So, what did you think of
my friends?"
"They were okay," I replied with a shrug of my
shoulders.
"Just okay? You didn't think any of them were
especially cute or anything?"
I couldn't help but smile.
"Well," I said. "They were all especially cute."
"But you wouldn't want to go out with any of them?"
I looked over at Kevin. He was trying to watch the road
and me at the same time.
"Are you trying to fix me up?" I asked. For some
reason, the idea made me mad.
Kevin glanced at me, and for a second his eyes met
mine.
"Just want you to be happy, sweetheart," he said. He
was silent for a few moments. "Sam's a great guy. I
think you'd like him."
I knew he expected a reply, but instead I asked, "How
come you guys never talk about the war?"
"We talk about the war."
"No, you talk about the country and the people, but you
don't talk about the war. The fighting. You don't talk
about what really happened over there."
He was silent again, but this time the silence went on
and on. We didn't talk again until we got downtown.
***
Kevin found a place that served sandwiches and
espressos and we sat at a table outside. It was sunny,
with only a few clouds in the sky, and a soft cool
breeze blowing in from the bay. I'd gotten a ham and
cheese sandwich and a mocha, but then I didn't want the
sandwich because I was afraid it would make me fat, so
I gave it to Kevin (the mocha would make me fat too,
but I was addicted).
We started talking again, but just about me, how I was
doing in school and all that. I did share one bit of
gossip: I'd found out recently that my English Comp
teacher, Ms. Washington, was a lesbian, and that she
was having an affair with a senior girl named Diane.
Kevin didn't seem to find this information even half as
shocking as I did. He just smiled in kind of a sly way
and asked, "Is she hot?"
"Who?" I asked. "Ms. Washington or Diane? Never mind,
they're both these totally hot blondes." I rolled my
eyes to show him how crazy I thought the whole thing
was.
"Speaking of totally hot blondes," Kevin said, then
deliberately looked me over. His eyes seemed to touch
every single part of my body before settling, for a
moment, on my boobs. By the time he'd brought them back
up to meet mine I was not only blushing but telling
myself I should have left my bra at home.
"I'm not totally hot," I said. "I'm not even lukewarm.
I'm an ice cube."
Kevin laughed, reached across the table, and took my
mocha, which I'd nearly finished. He drank the last of
it, then set my cup on the table and looked at me with
the same kind of cocky egotistical grin Tom Cruise had
in Top Gun.
"That was my mocha," I said. I tried to sound hurt, but
I sounded more like I was horny.
"Come on," Kevin said, suddenly standing up. "Let's go
down to the waterfront."
He turned and started walking away, obviously expecting
me to just follow him like a spineless nobody. Which I
did.
***
I hadn't been to the waterfront in four years, and a
lot of it had changed since then. There were a lot of
new shops and restaurants, and a long wide cement
walkway had been built right along the shore. It was
called a "promenade," and Kevin and I walked along it
hand in hand.
"I'm glad I finally got to be alone with you," he told
me as the cool breeze washed over us.
"Really?" I said. "Why?"
I didn't say anything about the fantasy I'd had in the
car and what "alone with me" meant.
Kevin gave me his typical and meaningless shrug and
said, "I dunno. You know how everybody else is.
Especially Mom and Dad. You can't say everything you
wanna say in front of them."
"Like what?" I asked, although I thought I knew exactly
what he meant.
"Like how much I love you and missed you. How important
you are to me." Kevin looked at me, and his eyes went
up and down my body. "How sexy you look in that tank-
top." Another Tom Cruise smile.
I smiled too, and looked out at the bay.
"Thank you," I said.
Kevin suddenly stopped and I stopped with him.
"Come here," he said, and pulled me against him. He
kissed my cheek, then embraced me in a gentle but
strong hug. I hugged him too and we stood there
together for a while, just holding each other and
moving our hands up and down each other's backs. The
long awaited romantic moment. I could feel something
against my belly, although I couldn't tell if it was
hard or not.
Eventually, Kevin relaxed his embrace and drew back to
look down at me. He had a strange look in his eyes,
like he wanted to tell me something but wasn't sure
how. I think I may have had the same look in my own
eyes, because his mouth curled into a small smile, then
he leaned down and kissed me on the lips.
It was the best kiss I'd ever gotten in my whole life.
Not that I had tons of experience in that area. I'd
been on a few dates with boys and made out with them,
but mostly those episodes had consisted of me fending
off clumsy gropers and lousy french kissers, and having
to spend countless minutes explaining to some begging
boy why I wouldn't even give him a handjob, let alone
anything else.
I realized as Kevin's warm lips pressed against mine
that I'd been harboring resentment toward those boys,
but now, as the kiss with Kevin deepened, I realized
that I didn't resent them anymore, I just felt sorry
for them. They were, after all, just boys. Kevin was a
man, and he knew how to talk to a girl, how to hold
her, and how to kiss her. The fact that he was my
brother suddenly seemed totally irrelevant.
Eventually, our kiss ended, our lips parting slowly and
both of us drawing back enough to look deeply into each
other's eyes. I felt a weakness in my knees, not to
mention a growing warmth between my legs. I wanted to
kiss him again, to let him put his tongue in my mouth,
to let him touch me the way those boys had. To do
things for him that I wouldn't do for them. I tried to
communicate these feelings to him with my eyes, with my
loving smile, and with the way I rested my hands on his
waist, as if they were just pausing there before they
moved further down to find his hardness.
Kevin touched my hair, then my cheek.
"I love you, Wendy," he said softly.
"I love you too," I replied.
It seemed to me that we both wanted to say more, but
what could we say? We were brother and sister. We'd
reached the outer boundaries of our relationship, maybe
even stepped over the line a little bit. It was
impossible to go any further.
I felt this huge sadness come over me and I had to look
away. Kevin let me go and we both took a step back, as
if even being near each other was wrong. Kevin turned
his back to me, muttered something into the breeze,
then turned around again. His eyes seemed angry and he
was no longer smiling. I opened my mouth to apologize,
but before I could say anything he said, "You know why
I never talk about the war?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because it's ugly, Wendy. It's brutal and it's bloody
and people die. I fucking hate it."
I was stunned by his sudden vehemence, the force of his
anger, and I couldn't say anything at first. Kevin
started pacing back and forth as he spoke.
"Nobody wants to hear about that, though," he said.
"They want to hear all the happy shit, about how we
save lives, rebuild neighborhoods, build roads and
improve communities. Nobody wants to hear about the
killing." He stopped pacing and looked at me. "And I
can't blame them. It's monstrous. It's inhuman."
"But I thought you loved being a soldier," was all I
could think to say.
"I do love it. I don't want to do anything else with my
life. I'm a soldier, Wendy, and I'll never be anything
else. But that doesn't mean I love the killing. I hate
it, and I hate the fucking war. But see, it's the price
I have to pay. It's the shit part of the job that I
have to take along with the rest of it. It's my duty,
and I'll do it, but not because I want to. Because I
have to. It's a good cause, Wendy, not just in
Afghanistan but in Iraq too.
"Fuck all that political bullshit, we're doing the
right thing. I honestly believe that. But God help me."
His face transformed suddenly, twisting into a painful
mask, and tears fell from his eyes. "I hate the
killing, sweetheart. I hate the shooting and the bombs
and what they do to people. I hate seeing my friends
all blown into pieces and dying and crying and...."
Kevin began to openly cry, bringing his hand up to his
eyes. I rushed to him, embraced him, pressed my face
against his chest, and now I was crying too.
"I'm so sorry, Kevin," I said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't
know."
We held each other there in the sun until our tears
subsided. Eventually, Kevin spoke again. His voice was
calmer, stronger, determined.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he told me.
"It's okay, my love," I said, not feeling wrong in the
least for using those words.
"I just hate having to keep everything I think and feel
locked up inside. Not being able to tell people....even
when they ask. I don't want to live like that. Because
it's not just about the war."
"What do you mean?"
Kevin didn't answer. Instead he just said, "Fuck it,"
let me go, and took my hand. "Come on." He started
pulling me down the sidewalk and I almost had to run to
keep up with him.
"Where are we going?" I asked, but again Kevin didn't
answer.
We went to the car and he opened the passenger door for
me. I got in and buckled up, wondering what was going
on, afraid that he was blaming me for the mistake I'd
made. He was embarrassed, and angry at me for luring
him into something he ultimately didn't want. As soon
as he opened his own door I said, "I'm sorry, Kevin,"
but he still didn't answer.
He drove out of the parking lot a little too fast, and
sped down the highway, back toward our house. But
before too long he took another turn, then another, and
soon we were in the neighborhood where Greg's apartment
was. Now I was really confused. What were we doing
here?
In a moment we were parked and out of the car, and
Kevin was leading me up to Greg's apartment. He knocked
hard on the door, but then didn't wait for anybody to
answer. He opened the door and went in, pulling me with
him. Greg, Mike and Sam were huddled in front of the TV
set, Sam and Mike holding joysticks while some digital
battle raged on the screen. They all looked around when
we came in. their eyes lighting on Kevin before taking
me in.
"Hey," Kevin said as he pulled me through the small
living room.
"Thought you two would be back," Greg said with a
smile.
All three guys continued to watch us as Kevin led me
into one of the two bedrooms.
"What's going on, Kevin?" I asked. "What's this about?"
A moment later Kevin had his arms around me. He kissed
me, holding me tight and pressing his erection against
my stomach, and I suddenly understood what he was
doing. I felt a little overwhelmed, but at the same
time I wanted nothing more than to surrender to him, to
give him whatever he needed from me, my whole self, my
heart and mind and soul. My body too. I wanted him to
take me, to possess me completely, make me his. I
didn't care that it was wrong, that it was incest.
I returned his feverish kisses, moaning lightly as his
hands found my boobs and clutched them, running my
hands through his hair. He started to pull my t-shirt
up and I stuck my arms up in the air. The t-shirt came
up over my head, then got tossed onto the floor. I
answered that by taking his shirt off, revealing his
smooth muscular torso. We ended up undressing each
other kind of quickly, but carefully too; it wouldn't
do to go home in ripped up clothes.
We got down to our underwear before falling onto the
bed. Kevin was wearing olive drab boxers and I still
had on my stupid pink bra, with matching pink french
cut panties. I'd bought them from a Frederick's of
Hollywood catalogue, never dreaming that my brother
would be the first man to ever see them. Kevin's eyes
narrowed and there was obvious yearning on his face as
he examined them, and examined my body in them. I was
glad, and relieved; I'd been worried that I might look
ridiculous in them. Kevin practically ripped my
underwear from my body, the bra first, then the
panties. I was naked now, but I didn't feel any
embarrassment or shame.
He nearly ripped off his own underwear too, and for the
first time I saw his cock. It seemed impossibly long
and hard and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever
seen (I'd only seen a few: my dad's on a couple of
accidental occasions (it was soft and just hanging
there both times): the four boys I'd gone out with and
had to turn down: a guy who flashed me once; and about
ten seconds of a porno movie somebody was showing at a
party). It stuck straight up in the air, like it was
saluting me, and part of me wanted to laugh because it
looked kind of silly, but another part of me was in
awe. It was intimidating, scary, and so masculinely
beautiful. I wanted to touch it, caress it, kiss it.
As much as he'd seemed frenzied and out of control
before, Kevin was gentle now as he laid on top of me,
as if he was afraid I would break. I opened my legs for
him and he settled between them and took me in his
arms. I felt his balls nestled against my pussy and his
cock laying over my lower abdomen, snaking all the way
up past my bellybutton.
We kissed passionately for several long minutes, and as
we kissed Kevin explored my body with his hands,
touching me all over, sliding his fingers down my
sides, over my butt, back up my sides and over my ribs,
then finally over my boobs. He caressed and squeezed
them lovingly as he pushed his tongue in and out of my
mouth. At the same time he moved his hips, pushing
himself against me, and I felt the base of his cock and
his balls moving up and down over my pussy and my clit.
I could feel him getting more and more excited, and it
matched my own rising heat and desire. I tried to tell
him with my ardent moans and gasps of pleasure, and my
writhing body, just how much I loved him and wanted
him, how much I needed him.
Kevin heard me, or at the very least couldn't control
his own desire anymore, and he reached down between us
and took hold of his cock. He started to move it into
the right position but I reached down too and grabbed
his wrist.
"Let me," I breathed.
Kevin let go and I wrapped my fingers around him. I'd
never held a cock before and was surprised at how warm
it was, and how it seemed both hard and soft at the
same time. And how big it was. I thought, 'My God,
maybe he will break me.' But if that was what was in
store for me, then so be it. If there was going to be
great pain, then let it be great. I would suffer
anything for my darling brother, my hero, if only I
could feel him inside me.
I held it as Kevin pushed it forward, until the tip of
it touched my pussy lips. I took in a deep breath, held
it, and hugged Kevin a little tighter with my other
arm, and a moment later the head of his cock began to
enter me. It pushed past the lips, stretching them
until they hurt, then stretching me further inside, and
further and further.
The pain was like a pinprick at first, not really that
bad, but then it became sharper and deeper as more and
more of his cock slid into me. I had to let my breath
out, then sucked it in again, held it again. I felt
Kevin's cock nudge up against my cherry, then force its
way through, breaking it, tearing it. I felt like he
was stabbing me, and I couldn't keep from crying out a
little.
Kevin just kept pushing into me, until his entire cock
had made its way inside. It was more uncomfortable and
invasive than I'd expected, but I kept calm by
reminding myself that it wouldn't stay like this, that
my body would get used to it soon.
Once he'd conquered me, Kevin paused and kissed my
cheek.
"God, I love you," he breathed into my ear, then slowly
began to pull his cock back out. That hurt too. He only
went about halfway, then abruptly pushed himself all
the way back in. He moved slowly, oh so gently, but as
he continued to push in and out of me he began to pick
up speed, fucking me, and the more he fucked me the
more the pain receded.
'So this is what it's like', I thought as I held onto
my brother and felt him moving inside me. 'This isn't
so bad. In fact, it's kinda nice. It's good.'
Kevin held me and kissed me and fondled my boobs, even
sucked my nipples as he took his pleasure with me,
sliding his long hard cock deep into my pussy. I moved
with him, writhed under his wonderful man's body, the
pain within fading to nothingness, replaced with a
rising tide of pleasure and satisfaction. My brother's
cock thrust into me faster and faster, harder and
harder, and a ripple of orgasm began to stir in my
pussy, growing like a storm in my womb. I wondered what
my parents would think of me right then, what they
would think of us, brother and sister, making love.
Fucking. Having incest.
Kevin had propped himself up on his elbows and was
looking down at me, watching me as I became immersed in
the first and most important sexual experience of my
life. I was gasping and sighing, crying out softly each
time he plunged into me. I wrapped my legs around his
waist and rode his cock with near abandon, driving us
both right to the edge of release. And just before that
ultimate point, he lowered his head and whispered in my
ear, "You are so beautiful, Wendy."
That was it for me. I went spiraling over the edge,
down into the warm well of orgasm. My entire body
trembled and shuddered with wave after wave of
brilliant, almost magical delight. I cried out again,
this time kind of loudly, but I didn't care. I was
coming, I was coming, and it was fabulous..
Kevin continued to fuck me and I held him close, kissed
his face and his neck and his chest, lost in our
lovemaking, until finally he reached his point of
ecstasy. He buried his face in my hair, grunted in my
ear, and I felt his cock throbbing within me and his
come spilling into my pussy.
It was only a few moments but it seemed to take a
sweetly long time. Finally, he was finished, and he
collapsed on top of me. We were both breathing hard,
our hearts were pounding, and our bodies were covered
with a light sheen of sweat. My body seemed to be
humming with expended energy, and I knew Kevin felt the
same way.
I cried, of course. I couldn't help it. I was no longer
the same person I was before, I was a woman now, and
not just any woman, I was Kevin's lover. I was
shiningly new, no longer just a single entity. Kevin
and I had joined our bodies and souls together, we'd
consumed our shared love and forbidden passion for each
other, and in the process we'd transfigured ourselves
into one incredible sensual being.
***
Greg, Sam and Mike didn't say anything, they just
smiled knowingly at us as we left. Maybe they were
feeling as speechless as I felt, or maybe they knew
that at that moment words, any words, would have been
inadequate. It didn't really matter to me.
We got in the car and started on our way home. About
halfway there Kevin asked me, "You okay?"
"I'm fine," I said.
"Are you sure?"
He was doing that thing again, where he was trying to
look at me and watch the road at the same time.
"Yes, Kevin, I'm sure." I touched his arm, then drew my
hand away. "Even though you were kind of rough with
me."
"I'm sorry, I guess I couldn't help myself."
I giggled and said, "I'm just teasing. You were
wonderful, and being with you was everything I hoped it
would be."
"You don't feel guilty at all?"
"No, not really. I'm glad we made love, Kevin. I don't
care if people think it's wrong."
"Neither do I," Kevin said.
"I guess this makes me your Victory Girl."
"My what?"
"Your Victory Girl. During World War Two there were
these women, they were, well, they were prostitutes,
but they only went with service men. They called
themselves Victory Girls. They offered aid and comfort
to our fighting boys."
Kevin nodded, a small smile on his face.
"Okay," he said. "But I'm not giving you any money."
"Fine with me," I said. "I don't mind giving it away."
Kevin's smile got bigger, then it disappeared, and he
said, "We should probably try to keep this whole thing
a secret, though. You know, so nobody freaks out or
anything."
"My lips are sealed." I pointed to my mouth. "At least,
these lips up here are."
Kevin gave me a look.
"You're a naughty girl, Wendy."
"I'm naughty? You're the one that forced himself onto
his defenseless baby sister."
"Defenseless, my ass. The Army could use you as their
secret weapon. You could seduce the enemy into
submission."
There was more simpleminded bantering, the two of us
laughing and feeling so easy with each other, so happy.
By the time we got home, whatever feelings of doubt or
guilt we might have had were gone. And when we came
through the door and greeted our parents, we had
successfully donned our sibling masks again. They
didn't suspect a thing.
***
Nor would they. For the next three weeks we were as
careful as master spies, meeting at Greg's place, or at
some other friend's house, or motel rooms. A few times
we even did it in my bed after our parents had gone to
sleep. We made love over and over again, passionately,
tenderly, exhausting ourselves with each other. It was
the most amazing time of my life, and it ended way too
soon.
Kevin left in the first week of October, on his way to
Iraq this time, to continue his hard and noble battle
for freedom. I kissed him goodbye at the Fort Lewis
airfield, and wept unashamedly as he boarded his C-130
transport along with hundreds of other soldiers. I
stood near the gate with my parents and watched until
the plane was out of sight, then turned and, with my
dad's arm around my shoulders, returned home to wait
for the day he would come back again, safe and sound,
to make love to me again.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 46