A Long Journey To My Brother

You don’t know how badly you need someone until you do. Or why. But you do. I needed my brother, more than I ever thought possible. He saved my life.

It wasn’t easy being born with a dick. Not when otherwise you’re a female, with female parts (save the defining one), female looks and a female mentality. And no, it’s not a big dick. I’m being generous to myself if I say it’s more than four and a half inches. But it works and feels like one. It certainly behaves like one.

I never knew a life without it. Growing up in a small western Michigan city, with no shortage of rednecks, I knew that a girl with a penis was not only unusual, but considered alien and even wrong. I learned early on to hide that detail for the sake of my safety and sanity. Nobody needed to know about it, and I kept people out of that part of my life. They weren’t close to me, so there was no need for them to be aware of it. My family was another matter.

My father was happy to have a second boy. He considered them stronger. My mother was disappointed, but she didn’t want another child once I came along. Two were enough.

Of course, seeing the second boy begin to develop female characteristics wasn’t easily understood either. Higher voice, softer features, a much smaller body than my brother at the same age, they didn’t make sense. The medical tests made even less, and when the doctors determined that my body was actually a female body, nothing made sense, at least to my parents. It was 1981, and even though I’d been named Taylor, both the pop star and the definition of trans were many years away, not to mention the concept. I was six, and my body only made me an abomination to others. My father began leaving the next year.

By the time I was eight, he was gone for good. It hurt like hell, and left me with plenty of additional neurosis, yet looking back, it was probably for the best. He wouldn’t have been able to contain his rage, and I would have borne the brunt of it. Dealing with my mother was bad enough.

She tried to contain her anger, but it would periodically spit out in petty and destructive ways. When I was seven, she refused to buy me girl’s clothes, a situation that would continue off and on for the next eleven years. At ten, our doctor had to step in when my mother insisted I take gym class, which fortunately had been excused from my life. I will always be thankful to him for sparing me that certain humiliation and degradation. And at twelve, Mom told me that since I wouldn’t be having a period, bras needn’t be on the shopping list through my teens. She said I could be an “in-between” for the rest of my life. It was around that point I first considered ending it all.

It began with trying to drink two large bottles of Mom’s booze, of which she had stashed many around the house. All that did was make me violently ill. I soon graduated to self-harm, mostly cutting myself, leaving me with many scars and a habit of wearing long-sleeved shirts. At fifteen, I even acquired a snub-nosed pistol, ostensibly for “protection”, though the only protection I really needed was from myself. Thank God I got it. My brother found the gun, sensed what it would be used for, and threw it away. Jacob knew how to protect me from my biggest dangers.

My older brother wasn’t a shining star, nor was he everybody’s favourite. Hell, there were many times when I wanted him on the other side of the planet. Silent, sullen, often cranky, Jacob was every bad teenage stereotype come to life. He had few friends and even fewer prospects. Our father’s absence and mother’s increasing alcoholism had left him with both a fatalistic outlook and the burden of being “the man of the house”, a title and position Jacob wanted nothing to do with. Yet when the chips were down, I could count on him like nobody else.

When I was bullied on the playground for being a little different (though the other kids had no idea just how different), he would step in and protect me. When our mother was drunk and looking to lash out, he would goad her into some argument, allowing me to escape. When I was fourteen and had finally began to develop, he escorted me down to the department store, reluctantly introduced me to the sales associate in the young women’s division, and then paid for the bras which I was both embarrassed by and thankful for. While usually grumpy at these instances, Jacob would come through without fail. He was my aggrieved anti-hero.

On Independence Day of 1990, Jacob shattered my world. He told my mother and I that he had signed up with the military and would start basic training the following month. Having turned eighteen a few months earlier and just finished high school, he’d been able to sign up without any parental involvement. In retrospect, it was obvious that Jacob felt this was his only way out of our depressed town, not to mention his depressing home situation. But all I could see was that he was abandoning me. I was fifteen, and the shit was going to rise.

Three years of high school is a long time to be lonely, not to mention agonized. None of it got better. Mom got worse, school was just there and I had few friends. Worst of all, the best part of my life was actually on the other side of the planet. And considering his communication skills, we were lucky to get a letter from Jacob every few months. Oftentimes, the only way we knew he was alive was that his employer didn’t send anyone to our door.

Jacob’s timing had been pretty shitty. A month after he enlisted, the Iraqi army invaded Kuwait, leading to America and a number of other countries returning the favour several months later. Our country, and military, was suddenly at war a world away from western Michigan. It would have been little more than news hour TV for us except for one important thing. Jacob was there.

Although he wasn’t in direct combat, we knew that my brother was involved in some fashion. His few letters came from the Middle East, and in his usual restrained way, Jacob told us that he had a particular assignment without providing specifics. Even when the brief war ended, he remained in Iraq and continued with his duties. I wanted to know and I didn’t. Mostly, I wanted him home.

Our mother didn’t deal with it very well. Her drinking increased, as did her outbursts directed my way. I couldn’t be bullied in quite the same way as when younger, but it didn’t make my days a vacation in paradise.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend yet? Or a girlfriend? Or some sort of friend? What’s wrong with you?”

Like many unhappy parents, my mother knew how to strike a nerve. I was late in my second year of high school, yet nowhere close to having a date for the sophomore dance. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, as the thought of having any sort of relationship was strictly fantasy. I was growing into a scruffy, scraggly young lady, not horrible to look at, but quite rough around the edges, and my self-esteem was more fragile than cheaply made crystal. Worse yet, I found that I was more attracted to boys than girls, which could be very dangerous. If I ever got intimate with a male and he flipped out, got violent and then spread the word about what I had between my legs, life would never be safe.

Girls could have been almost as hazardous, largely due to the fact that I knew this was one secret they would not keep. Word would quickly get around and life would be a living hell. I knew I needed to keep my distance from people.

There was only one person who could keep my secret, not out of guilt and anger but due to consideration, and he was thousands of miles away.

Jacob returned in the fall of ’91. He wasn’t discharged but had managed to get a month’s furlough, allowing my brother to come home and for me to breathe a little easier. Mom cried and doted over him for a few days before returning to her accustomed manner and habits. Our small, rented house slipped back to its usual air of strung tension.

“So what were you doing over there?”

Our mother was passed out, probably for the night, a true relief to be sure. It enabled Jacob to be a little more willing to open up, at least by his standards.

“M.A.”

He honestly thought that said everything.

“Huh?”

“M.A.” Eventually he noticed the confusion on my face. “Mortuary Affairs. Used to be known as Graves Registration. Means scooping up the dead bodies, figurin’ out who they were, and gettin’ them ready to be returned.” I had thought I was ready to hear anything. I’d been wrong.

“How did you get that job?”

“They said who’s willing to work for M.A.? I thought it was something to do with Military Affairs. Gettin’ some general’s coffee or somethin’. Didn’t know they’d changed the name.”

I was horrified. My brother had been stuck with the worst job imaginable. Thinking about it for long would have been too much, so I decided to move the conversation forward.

“You don’t have to go back to that, right? I mean, the war’s over.”

“No. I’m not going back to the army.”

“You’re leaving the military?”

“Sort of. I’m making a transfer, kinda.” Once again, Jacob was confusing me. Nobody did it better.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve signed up with the U.N. They have a unit, a program, to settle hot spots before they become wars. They call it Peacekeeping.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I’ll be travelling around to different places, negotiating to stop wars before they start.”

The thought of my brother negotiating anything was funny, and I saw a chance for levity.

“Geez, ya coulda gone to law school for that. Is that what you’re gonna do? Sit around a conference table and talk about stopping fights? You going to wear a dapper suit? Or maybe they’ll just give you something to calm them down. How does a baby blue helmet sound?” I thought it was hilarious. Little did I know. My brother scoffed.

“Hey, I’ll still be a soldier. Just won’t have to fight everything that moves. From the sounds of it, I won’t have to fight much at all. Just wave my magic wand and watch them do their thing. Be nice and easy.”

Little did Jacob know what it would entail. His move would result in the worst horror film he could have possibly seen.

Unfortunately, the day came when Jacob left once more. We saw him off at the train station where he caught the Amtrak to Chicago before flying to New York. Our mother had honoured the occasion by downing a fifth of bourbon before passing out in the bleak station lobby. Jacob gave me a wordless hug before shouldering his bag and climbing into the second-class car. I refused to cry at that point. The tears would come later.

My high school graduation came in ’93, and with it a relief that I had managed my school years without “the big reveal”. To my knowledge, nobody outside of my family knew about my penis and I intended to keep it that way. Having turned eighteen a couple of months earlier, I was now an adult and knew that my privacy could be easier kept but my safety would be at greater risk. As long as I kept it in my pants (or occasional long, loose skirt), there shouldn’t have been any reason for compromise. Unfortunately, that left one problem. I didn’t always want to keep it in my pants.

I’m human. I have a body, a body with moving parts and raging hormones (probably quite the mix of estrogen and testosterone), with needs, desires and urges flowing through it. I would get horny, just like other people, and wanted to find ways to relieve that horniness. Naturally masturbation was a staple, as having one hand on my cock and the other on my tits was a pretty common occurrence. Sometimes a finger would get inserted into my back door since I didn’t have a pussy to fill. I even graduated to a butt plug for especially randy moments. But that could only go so far, as what I really wanted was to fuck and get fucked.

It wasn’t easy. I was more attracted to men than women, though I could appreciate a woman’s allure and might even be willing to sleep with one given the right circumstances. But it was mainly men who turned my crank. Unfortunately, I knew that my dick would not only be a turn-off for most of them, but a sizable number of those men could become treacherous if they knew my complete physical resources. Particularly in my hometown. I needed to be cautious, which meant I had to be smart and selective.

My looks were only a mild asset. The scraggly, unkempt look which had been my adolescent companion never really left, with my dirty blond hair resisting effective hairstyling and lips that were the opposite of pouty. In addition, my curves were limited as my hips were slim and my tits, though fronted by pointy nipples aching to be licked and sucked, never went beyond a B cup and weren’t terribly perky either. To top it off, my legs were skinny and lacked shape. I often gave the appearance of someone who hadn’t filled into her body.

Fortunately, I did have a couple of things going for me. My face was not unattractive, if one could get past my lack of makeup and moisturized skin, and those slim hips gave me a small tight backside which could hold a dollar bill between its cheeks, not to mention a plug in my hole. I suspected a couple of fellows had held dirty thoughts about my body. I simply didn’t have the confidence to find out.

My day to day life wouldn’t have been much incentive either. Knowing I would need some sort of income to realize any future plans (whatever they might be), as well as to keep my mother at bay, I looked around town for a decent job. Like Jacob, I didn’t have a whole lot of connections to give me a leg up. Fortunately, a diner on the outskirts of town were in dire need of a new waitress. Between plenty of shifts, a reasonable amount of tips, and a dress code that did not require short skirts or tight pants, it was a moderate salvation that gave me some slight independence. It also allowed me to learn the flirting habits of various men, most of them older, which enabled me a couple of discreet encounters. Sadly, they would be less than ideal introductions to sex and relationships.

The first time was on a rainy night in a pickup truck. In the cab, not the bed. He was twice my age, pot-bellied, and stunk of cigarettes. He also didn’t mind that I had a cock, just so long as I had tits for mauling and a hole for thrusting. His cock was only average length but rather thick, as I learned when he shoved it up my virgin hole without any sort of lube. The pain was so stunning that I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t gasp, I couldn’t make any sort of noise. He just slammed into me, over and over, grunting like a grizzly bear as I wondered if this was what sex really was. My own cock was completely soft, so I just assumed that I wasn’t aroused enough and maybe the next time would be better. I thought of the diner’s yellow tablecloths while I waited for him to finish. Once he did, shooting his cum directly into my ass (what a desperate idiot I was not to insist on a condom), he slowed down, breathing heavily, before stating in a flat voice, “Sorry I can’t give you a ride home. Think there’s a bus stop down the road.” Whatever the ideal first time was, this had been miles away.

Six months, two blood tests, and endless contemplation later, I took another chance on sex. Once again it was an older man, but this time we had a motel room, he used lube, and I was turned on. I came, my hole felt better, and I felt better. If not romantic, it was at least a good experience. That was until he spoke while rising from the bed.

“We better get going. I gotta be home before my wife gets back.”

Fuck. He was married. I was an idiot. He’d never said anything, but I’d talked to enough husbands at the diner to know the signs. I should have seen it, but my cock was thinking something else. I was now “the other woman”, if only one time, and I felt like a cheap whore. Not exactly what I hoped to be doing with my life.

They say a cock has no conscience. Well, I can tell you it has no self-respect either. When the guy called a week later, whispering sweet nothings and sour everythings, I remembered the feelings. The feeling of his mouth on my breasts, the feeling of his hand on my hard cock, the feeling of his long, slim dick thrusting into my asshole. Slut, whore, harlot, I called myself all of these names and more. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror.

We met at the motel.

I saw him three more times. Not only did he bugger me good each time, but on the last occasion, he even sucked me off and let me thrust into his butt. Taking it was getting easier and better each time, but giving it to someone else, slidiing my dick in and out of their ass, that was incredible. No wonder guys were so stupid. Most of their thinking must have been pointed towards a hole. It was addictive. No matter how shitty I felt about myself, it was more than covered by the feeling of fucking someone with my cock.

That was the last time we met, and neither of us had much choice in the matter. His wife discovered his wanderings, the person he was wandering to, and somehow, she learned all about me. Everything. In short order, she served him with divorce papers and said if she didn’t get the house, the kids and their investment portfolio, she would reveal his love for dick and laugh while he slit his throat. He was soon gone, from my life, from our town, and for all I knew, perhaps from existence.

By comparison, I got off easy. His wife made a visit to the diner (thank God at the back door) and proceeded to let me know, in a cold monotone, that I was a slut, a cheap whore, a homewrecker, and above all else, an inhuman freak who should have been strangled at birth. My eyes were down, my head was down, and I was down. What could I have said? I had fucked up, and my tears gave her pleasure. She slapped me, kneed me in the groin and left me laying as she got in her new Lexus and sped off. The rain began to fall.

I was nineteen and learning the hard way.

Periodically, my brother would write me. We had learned that he should send me the mail and I would deal with Mom. She barely cared, why should she know? After a brief return to Iraq, Jacob would go to the fracturing Yugoslavia for two years, followed by a year in Africa before returning to Bosnia in ’95. He didn’t tell me many details, though he often raged at the fact that he couldn’t do anything if the combatants decided to keep fighting. At that point, he was little more than an observer. It sounded like it sucked, but I had no idea just how much. Besides, I had my own shit to overcome.

It had become obvious that I was in a dead-end job, in a dead-end town, and my life would be a dead-end if I didn’t get the hell out. But I also knew that I’d never get towards anything good if I just looked to get away. I had to be going in a direction. To that end, education was an obvious target.

During my school days, I hadn’t quite been a scholar, but I did okay. However, I knew that being better than okay would help, so to that end, I took a couple of correspondence courses to shore up some weaknesses and discover some strengths. I also began to look around for colleges and universities that might be a good fit. Needless to say, none of them were anywhere in Michigan.

I also began to travel in order to expand my horizons, not to mention scope out some potential schools. It was on one such trip, in Chicago, that I had my first sexual encounter with a woman.

Her English wasn’t great, nor was her waistline, but she had a twinkle in her eye and we quickly connected. I soon found myself on her bed, on her body, losing clothes and gaining confidence. Amazingly, she didn’t mind my cock, she simply said that she knew where to put it. I was elated. Though I preferred the musky aura of a man, her soft lips and big tits were enough to make me rise up and plunge forward. It was going to be a thrill.

It was weird. As soon as I sank into her pussy and began thrusting, I sensed that something was amiss. She had the right parts and we were fitting tab A into slot B, but it just felt a little off. The connection we’d found seemed to have slipped away. It wasn’t so glaring that I couldn’t finish the job, either for me or for her (I went down on her after I’d cum into the condom), but it all felt a little surreal, almost out-of-bodyish, and I wondered if I was in the wrong place. In a sense, I was. It wasn’t a bad place, just not where I felt the most comfortable. I’m sure she sensed it as well.

We kissed, we hugged, we said our goodbyes. There wouldn’t be another hello.

The acceptance letter arrived. I couldn’t breathe. A school had said I could attend, no strings, no backsies, just an honest-to-goodness yes. Dreams opened up, and I could walk through the doors.

The University of Arizona, in Tuscon. I’d never been within fifteen hundred miles of Tuscon, didn’t know a soul there, but knew it must be a heaven waiting for me to arrive. I would be going away from something and towards something at the same time. It was perfect.

My starting point would be September of ’95. I wasn’t sure what I’d major in, maybe Sociology, but I had plenty of time to figure that out. I’d also been saving my tips for two years just for this sort of moment, which would allow me a manageable transition. Of course I’d need a job, and some state financial aid, but it could work. I could make it work.

Telling my mother was both the most terrifying and exhilarating thing I’d ever done. I was telling the drunken Madusa that I was leaving her, all for a better life than she’d ever known or ever would. I expected her to bitterly lash out like never before, and she didn’t disappoint. It was agony keeping the grin off my face.

“This should be fun. You’re going to fall flat on your face without me. Hell, flat on your cock. You think you’re going to be partying with the frat boys while they take turns sucking your dick? Get real. They’ll find out and beat the shit out of you. You’ll be crawling back here whimpering like a lost puppy. No school, no money, and certainly no future. All you’ll have left is freaky husbands who want a piece of ass on the side.”

Until that last line, I’d been enjoying her choking on her bile. She knew what she was doing, and it stung.

“I suppose you think it’s all going to be easy, that you’ll make a wonderful life and get away from here. Well, let me tell you something. You’ll flunk, you’ll find no job, and you’ll find no good home to return to. Most of all, you won’t find anybody who wants you. Not a man, not a woman, just living an in-between life for an in-between person. You might as well write that school back and tell them you’re not coming. There’s no point.”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to bite her face off. Instead, I smiled with all my teeth.

“I hate you too, Mom.”

A shared dorm room was something I hadn’t considered. Though it was no surprise that I couldn’t afford a private apartment, leaving me with no off-campus options, it hadn’t occurred to me that all available dormitory rooms would be doubles. I would have a roommate I didn’t even know. I guess every bright cloud does have a dark lining.

In retrospect, it was no surprise that I would overlook such an important aspect of my school experience. I was so excited about starting my new life that I couldn’t imagine any obstacles in my way.

Her name was Cassie. She was a beige-haired beauty with a perky ass, perky tits and a perky smile. She grew up in Colorado, wanted to study business (“unless it’s too hard”), was socially outgoing (“I’m gonna check out University Boulevard tonight”), and screamed out “Cheerleader!” with her every breath. In short, she was everything I wasn’t.

Fortunately, she sensed my unease and lessened her boisterousness to allow me to breathe. As we spoke, she began to realize how different we were and that some work would be required to coexist. To her credit, Cassie didn’t try to push her personality or plans on me. She gave me the space I needed.

University was intimidating enough as it was. I was in a completely new environment, with entirely new goals, and totally new expectations. To be someone I wasn’t would have been overwhelming. As excited as Cassie was to go out, I couldn’t see myself enjoying a night on the town, even if it was a new town that I wanted to investigate. It would just need to be at my own pace.

Once I knew Cassie was gone for the evening and I wouldn’t be interrupted, I jacked off to remove some edge. I didn’t need to wake up with morning wood around my new roommate.

One reason for my edgy state was that I’d left Michigan shortly before my brother came home. After five years of bouncing around various continents on assorted military assignments, Jacob had seen enough and packed it in. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do next, but he knew he didn’t want that regimented life anymore. I suspected he didn’t want to see any more death and pain either.

When I finally spoke to him on the phone (“Is anybody named Taylor down here? You’ve got a call!”), I could tell he was more hesitant and reserved than usual. Though if I’d just spent five years in numerous war zones and then come home to our mother, I’d feel pretty uncertain as well. Either way, I was overjoyed to hear Jacob’s voice and know that he was back in our country. It was as close to crying as I ever got while speaking with him, though I managed to hold back, otherwise he’d probably have hung up out of disgust. He listened to me prattle on about my new life, testing his patience, but he never cut me off or showed a lack of respect. It was the most normal home conversation I’d had in years. He even said we’d talk again soon. Tuscon suddenly felt a little easier.

The first few weeks had been a tough adjustment, so much that I had talked to a student counsellor. She assured me that what I was going through was normal, and as long as I concentrated on my studies and made some healthy choices, I would be all right. To that end, I began exercising for the first time ever, fitting in a couple of runs per week. It felt good to firm up my body a little bit.

As October stretched along, things got better. I could feel myself settling into my classes, the desert warmth was wonderful, and I even found a job. It was another waitress job, but at a nice restaurant a little ways from campus. The uniform pants were a bit tight for my liking, requiring some tucking to keep my bulge from appearing, well, bulge-ish. But my boss was pleasant and the tips were better than the diner, that’s for sure.

Cassie was finding her way as well. She was making friends, enjoying the nightlife, and even acquired a boyfriend. His name was Brian, and as expected, he was a tall, square-shouldered jock boy who clearly had little more than sex and beer running through his head. Fortunately, he had an apartment where Cassie stayed two nights a week, so I could have some alone time and rub my edge off without having to worry.

Cassie and I seemed to have found a good equilibrium. She was the vivacious, outgoing one, and I was the shy, contemplative one. We each had our territory and we’d become comfortable in those places. I still had to be very careful about what I wore around our room (“Michigan winters give you a love for warm sweatpants. Besides, they’re comfortable.”), but she just chalked that up to my apparent shy quirkiness. I wasn’t about to correct her.

As November came near an end and term papers were coming due, I found that I needed some stress relief on a more regular basis. My running habit had grown more regular, and I found that a late night jog settled me down in order to get some decent sleep. Of course, it also meant that I usually needed a shower afterwards. This meant a nerve-wracking trip to our floor’s dorm bathroom, which contained two partitioned shower stalls. At least when late, I knew I could count on some privacy.

“Hey Taylor, I’m going to the store. Did you want anything?”

Cassie had poked her head into the bathroom with her usual energy, giving me a fright and causing me to drop the soap. I had just begun to wash my cock and balls.

“Um, no. I’m good.” There was no way I was bending over at that point. If she was going to see any part of me, it was only going to be my ass.

“Okay, back shortly.”

I breathed easier and picked up the soap. That was the semester’s closest call. I knew that if word got out about my penis, these college kids would become a bunch of rabid jackals, looking to take a stream of never-ending bites out of me.

I quickly rinsed off and decided to get dressed without drying off. I knew I’d have a few minutes to take care of that in our room, lessening any chances of exposure.

When I returned to the dorm room, I quickly stripped off my clothes and reached for the towel. I figured I had at least five minutes, which was plenty of time. Cassie’s gasp told me I was wrong.

“Oh my God! Is that what I think it is?”

I froze, unable to cover myself for a fateful second. It was my worst nightmare come true. I began to tremble, then shook uncontrollably. My body reacted, and then began to shut down. I fell to the floor.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! No, no. No Cassie, don’t do it! Please, don’t do it!”

Cassie had been in shock, a look of incredulity on her face. She didn’t know what to make of anything. I was a pitiful mess, half-covered on the floor and weeping without restraint. I think I scared her. Cassie seemed to snap out of it.

“Do what? Taylor, what are you talking about?”

I was now hyperventilating, shaking like a leaf and about ten seconds away from needing serious medical care. Reality was becoming tenuous.

“Taylor! Taylor! Stop it!”

Cassie knelt down and grabbed my shoulders. Her touch gave me a shock and halted my downward spiral. My breath was still shallow, and the words came in fits and starts.

“Please, Cassie, don’t tell anybody. They can’t know. I won’t be safe!”

“Alright, I won’t say anything. Please, just calm down. Here, take a drink.” Swigging a forty proof drink probably wasn’t the smartest thing at that moment, but college freshmen aren’t noted for their stellar judgment. Cassie helped me to my bed, the towel not always doing its coverage job. I cried some more before speaking.

“I’m going to have to leave school. It’s over.”

“Whoa, hold on! It’s not that bad. I won’t say anything. I just don’t understand.”

I glanced at her pretty face. She’d never really known terror or strife. Or of living with a secret that could get you killed. I opened up the towel.

“Well, you might as well get a good look. That’s right, it’s a cock and two balls. On what is otherwise a woman.”

She opened her mouth for a moment before words could be formed. Cassie’s mental wheels were spinning at warp speed as she looked me over from top to bottom.

“You look like one of those kids games where you stick a paper picture of one person above the bottom half of another.”

We paused, then laughed, though I couldn’t stop crying. It was a somewhat accurate way to describe me.

“Yeah, I think God was sniffing the glue when he made me.” I was so thankful when Cassie produced a box of tissues. She also motioned me to cover up.

“So I’m confused. Just what are you?”

“Fuck, I don’t know sometimes. I just know I’m always scared.”

Cassie sat there, listening as I spent a half-hour telling her my life’s sad tale. She appeared to comprehend some parts, but not others. One particular question could not be restrained.

“But what about sex? Who do you go for? Or do you go for anyone?”

“I probably shouldn’t, but yeah, I like sex. As long as it’s good. Anyways, I seem to like guys better, though it’s not easy.”

“Well, can you get, um, hard? I mean, does it work?”

“Yeah, it works, often too well.”

“Oh, so do you, uh, er…”

“Masturbate? Yeah. As much as I can. Thanks for staying at Chris’ place, by the way.” Cassie blushed, and realized that path of inquiry was best abandoned.

“Anyways, I’m so sorry you got stuck with me for a roommate. This is fucked up.”

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s just not what I expected, that’s all.”

“Well, please Cassie, don’t tell anyone. It would ruin me if this got out. I’d do anything to keep this quiet.”

Her eyes widened, and she took a slight pause before responding.

“Of course. You can count on me, Taylor.”

I actually believed her.

A few days later, Cassie invited me over to her boyfriend’s place. She said Brian was out of town and it would give us a chance to have a drink and speak freely without the worry of being overheard. Although I would normally be wary of such a precisely-timed invite, the thought of being able to unburden myself caused me to let my guard down.

My life had not become a living hell, so I knew Cassie had kept quiet. With the semester over, I just had to write a couple of finals and then I’d have several weeks away from school. I figured getting some things off my chest would help me to concentrate on my studying, making for a successful end to my first term.

“Glad you could make it.” Cassie shut the door behind me, casually dressed in shorts and a t-shirt but still stunning in appearance. Some people are blessed with the ability to look good in anything. I felt insecure next to her, but she disarmed me with her charm. She also handed me a stiff drink.

“Here you go. Hope you don’t mind Jagermeister. Brian’s parents brought back some bottles during their last European trip.”

“Uh, no, this is fine.” I’d barely even heard of the stuff, but I knew it wasn’t cheap. It also packed a bigger wallop than anything I’d ever had. Tasted pretty good though.

“So you been okay? You haven’t been talking much.”

“Yeah. It was just a big shock, ya know? This thing I’d been terrified of for years actually happened, and I’ve been processing it ever since.”

“Me too. Here, sit down. I’ll admit, it was quite the stunner. I’ve never seen anything like that. I mean you. I mean, well, you know.”

Inwardly, I grinned at her social clumsiness, Cassie’s usual grace being tripped up for once. She was embarrassed, but it only humanized her a bit. It was like having a girlfriend you could talk with, something unique to me. We began to converse, going over what had happened (she’d forgotten her wallet and returned to the room), my means of daily concealment (“I wondered why you wore boxers”), and my home life growing up (she’d never been exposed to that kind of a dysfunctional family). But mostly, Cassie wanted to discuss my sex life, going into a level of detail I had never spoken of with anyone, with was both uncomfortable and liberating. She also kept the drinks flowing, and by the time I was working on my fourth cup, it was obvious the liquor was kicking my ass.

“Yesh, I can take it up the ash okay. Not like I got anoder hole down there. Can feel good if it’s right, ya know?”

…

“Yah, been wit a woman. Went kinda okay, but a little weird. Didn’t feel right dat time.”

…

“No, not seein’ anyone. Don know who would wanna be wit me, ya know? I’m weird.”

As I drank more, I noticed Cassie was touching me lightly, on the arm, on the leg, even my hair, which wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful as her flowing locks. It felt a little weird, but nice to get the attention as well. My inhibitions were slipping away, and by the time it registered she was flirting with me, my resistance was out the window. It was about then that she leaned in and kissed me, her lips lush and pouty.

“I think it’s a shame you didn’t enjoy your time with a girl. It can be a lot of fun, and you have the equipment to make it even better.” She was rubbing my arm as she leaned in and kissed me once more, this time with open lips and a flick of tongue. She’d never given me the vibe of being into girls, but I was heady with alcohol and a rising passion. It had been over a year since Chicago, the last time I’d been with anyone. I kissed her back, and returned some tongue as well.

It didn’t take long for our hands to start roaming each other’s bodies. Cassie was a very enticing young woman, far more beautiful than I, and soon I was lost in lust. As we sat on the couch, entwined in our embrace, clothing was removed and our bodies became exposed. Her skin was tanned and supple, her eyes were dark stars, and when she removed her shirt and unhooked her bra, I was confronted with the two greatest breasts I had ever seen. They were only slightly larger than mine but marvellously formed and standing straight out, with taut little nipples hardening by the second. Why she ever needed to wear a bra was beyond me. Of course, those nipples weren’t all that was hardening, and Cassie’s hands soon roamed down to the front of my pants. I nearly tore off the front button to unleash my little monster. It was as big as it had ever been.

“Mmm, somebody’s getting excited I see. I’m guessing small but mighty.”

My ego put the slight aside as I grasped her waistband with devilish intent, which she reciprocated with a demonic smile. Cassie lifted her hips so I could slide the shorts down her smooth legs. All that remained before complete exposure was a tiny emerald green thong. My alcohol-addled brain hummed with anticipation.

“Somebody wants to see my little treasure, do they? Well, there’s a toll that will have to be paid, and it involves your tongue.” She enjoyed her vantage point of looking down upon me as I slid to the floor on my knees. Her fantastic body stretched before me.

“Oh, may I? I’d do anytin’ to play wit’ yur treasure.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You may proceed.”

Cassie raised her ass off the sofa cushion once more, of which I took advantage and snatched the thong down her pelvis, legs and feet. I crouched before her, both of us naked, and gazed upon the wonderful sight before me.

A small tuft of downy brown hair lay on her Mons, but otherwise, there was nothing that adorned her inviting pussy. Unlike the Chicago experience, I felt no hesitation at pushing forward. This girl was absolutely gorgeous, and I wanted to taste and suckle her womanhood until she cried from passion. Cassie opened her legs wide.

“Go ahead. My clit won’t lick itself.”

Though light-headed from the booze, I moved my face forward until my lips nuzzled her sex. I kissed the inside of one thigh, then inside the other, before placing light touches around her lips. Cassie gave a soft moan.

“Ah, you’ve done this before. I like it when someone shares their knowledge.”

Using a thumb to lift her clitoral hood, I leaned in and blew upon Cassie’s button, giving it a little tease before sticking out my tongue and making first contact with her clit. She murmured her approval and placed a hand upon my head. I stuck out my tongue and made a second lick, placing a little more pressure upon her sensitive clit and feeling a small shiver in return. I began to lap steadily, and soon felt a second hand upon my hair. It didn’t feel weird at all.

“Yes, Taylor, that’s good. You’re getting me wet. Why don’t you dive into my folds and show me how much you love this?”

I obeyed that sultry voice and descended from her clit to her swollen pussy lips. Cassie was moist and getting wetter by the second. I licked her lips up and down before using my fingers to spread her apart so I could dive into my prize. Extending my salivating tongue, I gave one long lick from the bottom to the top. It was exquisite. I quickly repeated the manoeuvre and dug deeper into that tremendous cunt. Cassie’s hands clasped my hair with greater strength as I buried my face in her crotch, my nose resting on her clit and my tongue working in overdrive. It was such a hot moment and lust burned through my body. I never heard the footsteps.

“Holy shit! You weren’t kidding. She’s actually got a dick!”

I whipped my head around just long enough to see a large shadow cross my small frame. Brian was coming towards us, naked as we were. My hair was nearly ripped out of my head as Cassie viciously pulled me back towards her crotch. I hadn’t been able to see his midsection, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t carrying a soft dick.

“Uh-uh Taylor. You stay here. The fun’s just getting started.”

As I felt Brian sink to his knees behind me, I managed to get one of Cassie’s pinkies near my mouth. My bite wasn’t a complete one, but I nipped her hard enough to where she let go of my hair. Drunk as I was, I knew I had to get out of there, as the menace in their voices told me it could soon be a bad scene. I unsteadily rose to my feet and began to move away.

The pain was otherworldly. Brian had reached around and grabbed my deflated penis, yanking it towards him when I tried to escape, and I felt it stretch and distend before moving back in his direction. My five foot three inch frame was no match for Brian’s raw power, his large arms seizing my body and throwing me back down to the floor, where I landed between him and Cassie, drunk and overmatched. Roughly spun around, I found myself facing Cassie’s crotch, an inviting target only seconds earlier. Now it was a different atmosphere and I wanted no part of it. Cassie grabbed my hair again, clawing my neck and face in the process.

“Get back here, bitch! We’ve only just begun. You’re going to pleasure us and show how a freak really gets it done.”

I felt Brian move directly behind me, splitting my legs with his own and pulling my hips so they lined up with his groin. I realized where this was going, and feeling his hard penis brush against my bare ass confirmed it. I was going to be used. Cassie slapped my face to gain my attention.

“You see, Taylor, I’ve got a little problem. My boyfriend is great in the sack but he wants to try out my ass. And well, I don’t do that. Especially since he’s a little big. But he’s persistent. So I figured since you’ve only got one hole back there, you’ve probably taken it a few times. And since you said you’d do anything to keep your secret, I figured this qualifies as anything. Now open that pucker up, because Brian’s going to try it out.”

As I felt him inch closer behind me, I moved my hips about since I figured the Neanderthal wouldn’t be able to hit a moving target. Yet the moment his fist made high-speed contact with my testicles, my body halted. All I could do was squeal and cry. That was immediately muffled as my face was pulled back into Cassie’s crotch. She also tightened her grip on my hair.

“Bitch, if you bite me, I’ll get him to shove a baseball bat up your ass until he can’t read the label. I might as well get some pleasure out of this too. C’mon freak! Get to lickin’! Brian, are you covered up? I don’t want you to pick anything up from this whore’s skanky ass.”

Brian let out a disappointed sigh, got up, walked out of the living room and down the hall. He returned shortly, apparently wearing a condom as his one remaining bit of humanity, though I’d hardly call it a benevolent act. Within moments, he’d resumed his position and grabbed my hips, quickly moving his hands to my ass cheeks. Brian spread them apart and moved in for the kill, via impaling.

My face had been pressed into Cassie’s pussy during this interlude. Amazingly, she was wetter than ever. She actually got off on this sick moment. I was repulsed, and nearly threw up in her cunt. Only the thought of the baseball bat kept the vomit away. Cassie shook my head until I started to lick and revelled in her cruelty.

My memories are cloudy, but I know the essentials of what happened. Brian slammed into me with little lube (a small gob of spit) and no warning. He was large, larger than anyone I’d taken before, and I screamed into a swampy vagina. Cassie laughed, and ordered me to keep my tongue moving. My movements were mild compared to Brian sawing in and out of my ass. The pain was beyond belief, and I wondered if I would survive. Within minutes, I began to see spots.

The pummelling continued for an uncertain amount of time. Under different circumstances and agreed consent, it could have been an incredibly erotic moment. However, this was anything but erotic, at least for me. What those two sick fucks were getting out of it was something I didn’t wish to contemplate. I just knew that my awareness faded in and out. Their grunts, moans and laughter were the soundtrack to my falling consciousness, and I inwardly begged for the relief of oblivion. It felt like the only way out.

I’m not sure how much later I awoke, naked on the floor, my head, body and soul hurting everywhere. I could hear Cassie and Brian down the hall, laughing and kissing loudly, revelling in their disgusting conquest. Getting away was paramount.

I somehow found the strength to rise, locate my clothing, get dressed, and make it to the door. I didn’t know the location of my purse, but that was an acceptable sacrifice in order to escape. I quietly turned the door knob and staggered into the night, where it took two hours to return to the dorm. I had nowhere else to go.

Cassie waltzed into our room without a care in the world. Flinging my purse onto my bed, she strolled around the room looking through my things as if she owned them.

“You forgot this last night. Hope you had fun, I know we did.”

I was torn between rage about what she did to me, and terror at what she could do next. Worse still was Cassie’s aura of power, as she clearly felt that I was little more than a bug under her shoe and that I was powerless to do anything about it. But worst of all, I knew she was right.

“So I’m going to be moving in with Brian. Dorm life bores me. But just so you know, I’ll be hanging onto my key until the exams are over. Never know when I’ll wanna pop in and check on you. Who knows? Maybe Brian and I will stop in some quiet night for a little visit.”

My voice stayed silenced, and Cassie knew how terrified I was. I couldn’t move off my bed, I could barely breathe. Soon she stood over me.

“By the way, if you ever feel like talking about our little adventure the other night, do know that I’ll start talking too. And I know lots of people around here. Remember that.”

I wouldn’t let her see me cry, but my leg began to shake. Life sucked.

“See ya, Taylor. It’s been memorable.”

“Hey freak! I hear ya got a little something I could use if my boyfriend stops putting out. Of course, I hear it’s really little!”

The pounding on my door was horrible, but the laughter was worse. It had been going on for two days, though it felt like two years. Cassie had blabbed. Or maybe Brian. Whoever it was, their news had spread like wildfire and my end of the hall was now besieged with trolls, catcalls and threats. Some pushed written messages under the door. I was terrified, and would have gone back to Michigan if I didn’t feel that Mom would have a worse response.

Staying in the dorm beyond the Christmas break was impossible, but there were many obstacles to finding my own place, money chief among them. I had paid a full year’s deposit for the dorm room and had little chance of getting a term’s worth back. Even with that cash, I couldn’t afford an apartment on my own, but I couldn’t afford a roommate even more. It all felt so closed in. I needed to talk to somebody.

The door was banged upon again, with snickers and glinting teeth hiding behind it.

“Jacob?”

I stood in a remote phone booth on a cold desert night. It was late, but that was the only time I could get out of the dorm safely. I’d had to call collect, but fortunately my brother answered the phone.

“Cassie? What’s wrong?” He knew something was amiss if I was calling at such an hour.

“They found out. The people at school, they found out about me.”

“You mean-?”

“Yes. I’m scared. It’s awful. I can’t stay here.”

“You mean at school?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to come back home, but I can’t stay in the dorm. Everybody knows where I am.”

“Can’t you get a place? On your own?”

“I don’t have the finances for that. With a roommate maybe, but I can’t do that again.”

“Was it your dorm roommate who found out?” He would never admit it, but Jacob knew how to read between the lines. I couldn’t stop the tears.

“Yes. I don’t know what to do.”

Jacob taking charge was a rare moment indeed, so I knew it mattered to him when he did. I felt special to him.

“First off, your roommate. Is she still around?”

“Not really. She moved in with her boyfriend.”

“Good. Stay away from her, don’t ever talk to her again.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t going to tell him all of the reasons why I wanted to avoid her.

“Next, don’t go out during the day. You’d be a visible target. If possible, do your stuff at night. Too many people out during the day, and daylight won’t stop them from attacking you.”

The certainty in his voice told me that he’d seen enough assaults to know. Jacob moved on.

“The one exception is when you’re looking for a new place. Find an apartment, a decent place, away from school. We can always transport you there.”

“What? I told you I don’t have the money.”

“You said you’d be able to if you had a roommate, right?”

“Jacob, there’s nobody around here I can trust to live with.”

“Doesn’t have to be. Your roommate won’t be from around there.”

Once again, my brother was muddling my thought process. I had no idea who he was talking about.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I’m coming down, Taylor. I’ll be your roommate.”

I missed an exam, causing me to flunk a course, but there was no way I could be in a gymnasium with hundreds of other students, all things considered. My door was still a target for the next week and I wasn’t going to compromise my safety any further. It was a sacrifice, but one I could live with.

Missing the exam did have a silver lining as I could then go to student counselling and show that I was still having difficulty adjusting to school, which would help make my refund case with the university. Telling them my troubles stemmed from concern for my brother, considering his state of mind after spending five years in assorted war zones, was a little white lie that I could live with. It was paramount that I get out of that dorm.

Jacob was actually a bit of a puzzle floating through my mind. I’d learned not to dwell too much on his motivations over the years, confusing as they could be, but I couldn’t help but wonder why he would suddenly pick up and move down to Arizona. I didn’t doubt his desire to protect me, but it wasn’t until I considered his situation that things became more clear. Jacob had spent the last three months sitting back home, dealing with our mother on a daily basis, and was probably unsure how to get away from her. I didn’t know what he’d been doing in Michigan, as he wasn’t one to reveal much of his own life, but moving to Tucson would make for a good way to escape. Not only that, but he was moving towards something, not just away from a bad situation. I took comfort in that realization.

It wasn’t easy finding a suitable and reasonably priced apartment during Christmas season, but I somehow managed. As soon as I told the landlord that my brother had just finished a five year military stint, everything flowed smoothly. The small building was a fair distance from the university, but Jacob had said he didn’t mind driving me and it would be wise to create some distance from the campus and its social scene. Though my brother was only slightly more communicative over the phone than his high school days, I was looking forward to having him around. He was somebody I felt at ease with, the landlord wouldn’t hassle us due to Jacob’s military background, and best of all, if Jacob saw my cock, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Not that I was one to run around the apartment naked, but if a towel flapped open or some other whoops moment occurred, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Jacob just didn’t seem to care.

He’d been that way for much of our lives. As kids, Jacob would mildly tease me about my penis from time to time, but once he realized how much that bothered me, the teasing stopped. As far as he was concerned, I just became his annoying little sister. It was the kind of normalcy that I craved in a relationship.

Once Cassie had turned in her key before the Christmas break, I could at last find some solace behind my locked dorm room door, giving me time to lick my wounds, both physical and emotional. My butthole was still tender, but at least no permanent damage had occurred. My cock was also healing, along with the scratches around my body, but I knew my emotional scars would take far longer. I knew it would be a long, long time before I dared to be sexual with anyone again.

The remainder of December was relatively peaceful. Although there was still the occasional knock at the door, quickly followed by some derogatory comment and snickers of laughter, my end of the dorm became quieter as more students finished their finals and left for home. I timed my excursions to occur at night when there were far fewer people about. I made my grocery trips at night, got what little exercise I could at night, and even made most of my bathroom trips at night. It wasn’t quite bliss, but at least I was safe for the time being.

Thankfully, the landlord let me move in to my new place on the 29^th, which would allow Jacob to arrive before the New Year. And after I informed the university that my recently discharged brother would be moving down to share an apartment and help further my adjustment (it’s amazing what playing the Military card can get you), the school refunded my second term’s dorm deposit. Things were looking up for 1996.

Jacob arrived on New Year’s Eve day. I buzzed him in and went to the third floor hallway in order to meet him. When my brother’s dark mop of hair came into view as he slowly ambled down the hall, it was the best I’d felt in months. Of course, he wasn’t going to move quickly with all the liquor he carried. Jacob was prepared for the evening.

“Drove two thousand miles to bring me booze?”

“Good thing they have liquor stores here. Wasn’t gonna drive all the way back for a drink.”

His dry wit made it difficult to tell when he was joking, but I didn’t care. I launched my body at him in a desperate embrace.

“Geez, you’re heavier.”

“Shut up. Like you’re one to talk.” He’d added a few pounds since I last saw him, but still retained some decent fitness. I reluctantly unwrapped my arms from his body.

“Is this all you brought?”

“How much of their inventory do you think I have?”

“Stop being dumb. I mean didn’t you bring any clothes or stuff?”

“Yeah, it’s in the truck.”

We retreated to the apartment, Jacob quiet and me letting him be so. I knew that giving him space and silence was necessary to make him comfortable. He peered around like a dog in a new home, quickly determining which bedroom was his. Thirty minutes and several trips to the truck later, Jacob was moved in and I had the only roommate I would ever need. We opened the first bottles to give thanks for our relief. I was still leery about downing more than one, but Jacob made up for me. I knew I was healing because his coming drunkenness didn’t scare me. He was still my brother.

It took all of two weeks for the whoops moment. I was in the shower when Jacob poked his head into the bathroom (the frosted shower door prevented any cheap views) to tell me he was going to the liquor store. I thanked him and mindlessly turned back to the hot water. Time melted away, and I enjoyed the water’s stinging tingle. Following an indeterminate time, I turned off the tap and stepped out into the bathroom. After towel-wrapping my hair, I decided to dry the rest of my body in my bedroom. Since I had the place to myself, I knew there was no need to cover my form, and stepped nude into the short hallway.

It was an eternal two seconds. Jacob stood ten feet away, pulling his keys from his pocket, dressed to go out. His face was impassive, in spite of having a perfect view of my wet body, and his eyes never moved away. I’m sure he even took a brief glance down to my crotch. My face must have registered as deer-in-the-headlights, with both my feet and arms frozen in place. I was glistening naked in front of my brother.

“Sorry.”

“No problem.”

My bedroom door shut behind me after I’d found the strength to flee. I waited until I heard Jacob leave before breathing again. My chest heaved with deep gasps, my legs trembled, and my skin flushed as I regained my wits. It had been a near carbon copy of the Cassie incident, a memory that left me a quivering wreck. Then I remembered.

Jacob was not Cassie. He’d known about my dick for as long as I could remember. He certainly wasn’t going to blab about it. He didn’t really even care about it. Jacob had proven that to me over the years, and there was no reason to believe it was any different now. So why had he looked?

To be fair, I don’t think he’d seen me uncovered since we were little kids. Naturally, some part of him would have been curious. I was a naked young woman (albeit with a penis) standing in front of him. It would have been odd if he hadn’t looked. These thoughts calmed me as I towelled dry and got dressed. Nothing really needed to have changed.

Even if some small part of my subconscious hoped it had.

It quickly became apparent why Jacob was always going to the liquor store. He drank like a fish, though rarely to the point of obvious drunkenness. He was more the sort who kept a steady yet manageable buzz throughout the day. It was actually impressive in a way. Jacob could function at 10 PM even after downing two flats of beer over the course of the day, or some other alcoholic equivalent. I would have been on my way to the hospital. My brother simply moved along at his slow but steady pace. I had no idea how he did it. Though sadly, over time, I learned why.

Jacob had spent five years travelling from one horrific nightmare to another. From dead body detail during the first Iraq war, to dealing with a million villainous sides in the Yugosalv wars, to being in Rwanda when half the country was using machetes to hack the other half to death, to returning to Bosnia in time for that war’s most horrific atrocities, all while handcuffed by the U.N. Peacekeeper rules, my brother was left haunted by a cavalcade of Nineties barbarity. Whether waking me up with his night terror screams, or sporadically letting me see the reasons for his disquiet, Jacob slowly revealed how damaged he had become. Not even 24, Jacob was a shell of his former shell.

When not driving me to school, work, or wherever else I needed to be (in hindsight, that was obviously an unwise move), Jacob spent most of his time laying in bed, watching TV and maintaining his perpetual inebriation. His military pension had kicked in early, having something to do with his UN duties, so there was no need to find a job, not that he was in much condition to work. He did the minimum to maintain a working roommate relationship, and never left me in a bad spot, but he had no desire to move forward at that point in time. Jacob simply spent his days keeping the darkness at bay.

At least he let me join him for some TV programs. Jacob watched certain shows, but if I had something I wished to see (his TV was the only one in the apartment), he would acquiesce to my desire, hand over the remote, and share his bed with me. Friday night was a regular “date”, as I had found myself addicted to the era’s hottest (or at least buzziest) show on television, The X-Files. Although I’m sure the show’s subject matter didn’t help Jacob’s overall mindset, he would follow along as the weekly torrent of frightening images both thrilled and scared me. It was probably as normal as we ever got.

It was an early February evening when I flopped onto Jacob’s bed and punched up my favourite entertainment. That week’s episode leaned more towards psychological thriller than the usual X-Files offering, following an unknown killer who hid the bodies inside gargoyle statues, but it was gripping nonetheless, and I soon found my usual anxious excitement rising. By the midway point, my head had sunk to Jacob’s chest with my right hand on his shirt-covered stomach. His presence was comforting.

Jacob didn’t mind. Though hardly a touchy-feeley guy, my brother would allow me a degree of physical contact that was more than anyone else got. It made me feel special, and I knew that keeping it occasional allowed me regular access to him. Nobody else could be so close.

The episode was gripping and by the time it had concluded, I was unaware that my hand had been caressing my brother’s stomach for the last half hour. I had not been indecent, never going below the waistline (so Jacob informed me later), yet an effect had been created. As my eyes lowered from the television screen, they came to rest on a noticeable bulge beyond my hand. Straining against Jacob’s boxer shorts, his usual evening bedroom attire, was an unmistakable erection. It appeared to be of healthy size, lifting up off his body and pointing at a mild right angle. My eyes widened and I felt a catch in my throat, alleviating it with a small swallow. The next program had begun, though I could not have told you what it was. My hand stopped moving and, attempting to be as casual as possible, I arose from his body and returned to my side of the bed. I didn’t want to make a scene out of this.

Following a few minutes of empty screen observing, my eyes locked to the TV and away from my brother’s shorts, I slid off the mattress and headed to his door, giving a gentle thank you, which Jacob returned with his usual perfunctory grunt. My shaking legs barely carried me to my bedroom.

My senses and consciousness were on fire. My brother had gotten an erection. He had gotten the erection with me on top of his body. I had caused it. I had caused his penis to swell and grow, albeit unintentionally. This man had been aroused by something I had done. The thought terrified me.

I wouldn’t admit it also excited me.

The rest of the weekend was lost in a haze of thought. I avoided Jacob as much as I could, admittedly not a difficult chore, and spent most of my time dwelling on Friday night’s events. Overthinking was a bad habit of mine, but on this occasion, it did allow me to gain some perspective. First off, I hadn’t done anything improper or deliberate. My hand had stayed above the waistline, nor had I done anything which would be construed as alluring. It’s not as if I’d been sucking his nipples. And most siblings were capable of physical contact without any sexual reactions. We certainly had been for many years.

I also considered Jacob’s point of view. He hadn’t planned it, and I was sure there was no conscious intent on his part. My own dick had taught me how those things could have a mind of their own. In addition, I suspected that it had been some time since he had been physically close to someone, even in an innocent manner as we had been. Human touch can affect a person in numerous ways, particularly when it’s a rare occurrence. To top it off, with his level of inebriation, Jacob’s control mechanisms could have been limited. When I took all those factors into consideration, it actually calmed me a great deal. This needn’t have been a fracturing incident, and the last thing I wanted was to have a split between me and my brother. He was far too important to me. I hoped I was important to him too.

As the next week wore on, my settled psyche became a little uncertain. Though I stopped obsessing on the incident, the image of my brother and his hardness would periodically pop into my head. Whether studying, working, walking or even showering on one occasion, my mind would throw the visual at my consciousness, even if just for a second, and I would find myself a little flustered. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. I was affected.

My cock was affected too. Though I didn’t get hard when my brother crossed my mind, I did notice my libido was increasing. I surreptitiously checked out the guys at work a little more, my eyes lingering upon their torsos as they moved about. I also found that I was usually waking up with morning wood. My nipples were often pointing out as well. It was like my body had been triggered and decided to react.

The weather didn’t help. I’d been loving the warm winter that Tuscon offered, far better than home, but as the week wore on the mercury climbed and the Arizona winter was reminding me of a Michigan summer. Our apartment began to swelter, and I felt the need to wear less. I wouldn’t be the only one.

When Friday arrived, I found myself a bundle of conflicting emotions. It was the relieving end of the week, the heat had increased, and my boss insisted that I work both Saturday and Sunday. Yet the largest source of my apprehension was the prospect of Friday night. I wanted to watch my show, particularly since it would be what was referred to as a mythology episode (usually involving aliens in some form). I also knew that would entail being in Jacob’s room. And he would almost certainly be there. The thought both unnerved and excited me, though I wouldn’t admit the latter to myself.

Mostly though, I wanted to spend time with my brother. I had avoided him all week, yet he was still the most important person in my life. I couldn’t stay away.

Jacob was shirtless on his bed. Though he’d added about fifteen pounds since the last time I’d seen him without a top (or anything else), my brother still possessed a reasonably fit masculine body. Needless to say, my heart stopped as I halted in his doorway. If Jacob hadn’t held the remote up for me, I probably wouldn’t have continued any farther. Yet it was there for the taking, so I did. The evening’s theme was being set.

I had to lay face down on the bed because my nipples, only covered by a thin halter top due to the heat, had instantly swelled at the sight of Jacob’s body. Facing away from him, I turned on the TV and gave thanks that I had worn some bulky boxers instead of my tighter underwear. They would have left it obvious to Jacob, his eyes only a couple of feet away, if my cock began to swell. Between the heat, my brother’s body, and the memory of the previous week’s incident, the chances were good that my shorts would get a little cramped.

This week’s episode introduced something new. An alien black oil which was alive and able to infect living human bodies was a novel idea, but as the thick liquid oozed across the floor, I found myself distracted. My mind wandered, my skin flushed, and I found myself short of breath. It wouldn’t be the last time.

By the episode’s midway point, I felt a desire to recline back against the pillows. However, as I laid back, I noticed what appeared as two pieces of chalk poking out through my shirt front. My nipples were hard and pointy, and my breath was quickly held. Even worse, I realized that a bulge had started to form in my shorts. It would be quite embarrassing if Jacob noticed my state. I had to shift position, and do so in such a way that would hide my front from my brother’s eyes.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Yet by the moment I’d laid my head on my brother’s chest, facing towards the television and away from his view, it dawned on me that I was in the same position as last week. I even placed my hand on his stomach, his bare skin, swallowing my saliva as I tried not to gasp. It was as if I wanted to enter the lair. I might have even wiggled my hips at some point. What the hell was I doing?

Jacob appeared oblivious. Between the booze and his placid nature, my brother gave no reaction to my movements. He simply put a bottle to his lips. Time would tell if his body would react.

I couldn’t tell you much about the rest of the show. I think more people had become infected, yet my mind was very much elsewhere. What was I doing? Why was I playing with fire? Did I want him to react again? My hand began to circle upon his stomach once more.

Jacob’s underwear started to move. To shift. My hand stopped moving as I watched the lump form a foot away, and my breath became short and laboured. In addition, I could feel my own underwear getting less roomy while my nipples were punching holes in my shirt. My brother’s lump became more defined, and his boxers soon formed the undeniable shape of an erect penis. Jacob had become aroused, and so was I. My hand started to move again.

If Jacob took notice, he didn’t let on, simply taking another swig from his beer bottle while breathing steadily. I on the other hand, was a wreck. My breath was ragged, sweat gathered upon my body, and I’m sure if I’d tried to speak, my voice would have cracked in eighteen different ways. My brother’s cock twitched, and my hand circled lower.

The TV was still on, but heaven knows what was showing. The heat was stultifying, but it wasn’t the reason for my body’s perspiration. I had a fleeting thought that I’d feel better with my clothes off, but my consciousness quickly shut that down. I wasn’t the one to be seen. My hand was soon grazing Jacob’s elastic. The material below jutted obscenely.

My fingernails slipped beneath the elastic. They were the scouts for my fingers, which slowly slid back and forth along Jacob’s skin as my hand continued down their obscene path. The skin became warmer, then hairier, as my fingers continued to stretch southward seeking the prize. My mouth was dry. My brother’s cock twitched, multiple times. Mine was fully hard.

My fingers lifted under the material and brushed the spongy, soft cockhead. Jacob was circumcised with a large mushroom head. It was hot, blazing hot, and my fingers felt the fire, as did the rest of my body. I spread my digits, lifted my hand, and encircled Jacob’s cock, slipping my hand over the head and down along the large vein until I had spread my fingers around his manhood. I gave a squeeze and heard a small groan. My brother was affected.

His cock was large. I couldn’t tell exactly how big, but it was certainly longer and thicker than mine. As my hand caressed my brother’s taboo penis, I felt the ridges, bumps and small veins which made his organ unique. I hadn’t held enough dicks to be an expert, but I knew that each one was different. With every pass and squeeze, I also realized this was the hardest penis I’d ever encountered. Jacob truly had an iron bar in his arsenal, and I wondered how it would feel on my tongue and in my mouth. My lust was becoming overwhelming.

Jacob was being overwhelmed as well. Not only was his dick pulsing with each pump of blood, but his breathing was getting erratic as my head, still resting on his chest, arose and descended with greater frequency. Even though I knew all this to be very wrong, I also knew that I wouldn’t stop. I just needed to be nudged forward. When I felt Jacob’s hand come to rest on my hip, I went ahead.

My hand reluctantly released that large piece of meat, but only for a moment as I lifted Jacob’s underwear and began to push it down his hips. I learned he was fully aware as his bum lifted off the bed, ever so slightly, allowing me to lower the material past his dick and even below his balls. I now had an unencumbered view of my soul’s desire.

It was magnificent. Not a monster, but a very enticing erection that I would later measure at a healthy seven inches. My hand barely fit around the root, squeezing its amazing hardness as I studied that cock like I had a final exam on its composition. My mouth, desert dry only moments earlier, was now a waterfall as I gazed upon my prize. My jaw hung open, unconsciously preparing to encircle the cock head as soon as I could move forward. When Jacob’s hand descended from my hip and squeezed my ass cheek, I knew my cue. I craned my neck and stuck out my tongue.

The contact was electric, so much so that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a flashing spark at the end of my tongue. I felt the spongy softness, the urethra, the helmet underneath. I encircled the head, made my mouth into an O, and started to slide it in. My tongue remained underneath, while my top lip passed over the ridge and descended to the cock proper. Jacob’s cockhead was in my mouth and all I wanted was more. I moaned.

Jacob didn’t say anything, and I was glad. It would have felt wrong, and not the good wrong that this was. His hand squeezed my ass cheek and he inhaled deeper through an underlying moan, which was the sexiest damn sound I’d ever heard. I was sucking my brother’s cock, and it was the most turned on I’d ever been in my life.

My tongue and my lips felt the ridges and veins as I slowly, achingly slid down the shaft. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get the whole cock in my throat as it had been too long since I’d done that, but I wanted as much of it as I could take. More than that, I wanted to suckle that cock, to kiss and lick it, to make love to it with my mouth, with my hand, with my soul. I wanted to taste my brother’s cock, and then I wanted to taste his cum.

There were no sounds other than my slurping and sucking his dick. The television had been turned off at some point, but I didn’t know when or vaguely care. With every slide down his shaft, Jacob squeezed my tight little ass, caressing it through my boxers, turning me on even more. I reached my left hand down to the front of my boxers, and felt my own dick being harder than I ever remembered. My hand began to move my cock back and forth within the material, rubbing it against my lower abdomen, increasing my arousal with each passing second. I was heading towards climax, but I was determined to get my brother there first.

My right hand slipped down from Jacob’s pole to caress his testicles, tight up against his body in preparation to send forth their cream. I soon cupped his warm globes, enjoying their feeling in my palm as I continued to savour his rock hard penis and masturbated myself through my boxers. Jacob’s strong hand repeatedly squeezed my butt cheek while his other hand rested on the top of my head, occasionally grasping my hair to control my bobbing head. He needn’t have done that as there was no way I was going to give up this glorious prize, but a small part of me tingled at the thought of being under his restraint. With anybody else, the thought would have terrified me. But with my brother, I would give up some control. The reward was irresistible.

Jacob’s cock twitched, twitched again, and then strained. I hummed a high sigh and braced for my prize. It came. Jacob came. His penis pulsed and brought forth its creamy cum, spurting out into my watering mouth and onto my spread tongue. I tasted multiple jets, four, five, six, I lost count. It had obviously been some time for my brother as his spunk filled my mouth, soon overflowing and oozing out the sides. I wanted it in my tummy, but I didn’t want to give up the taste. It was heaven.

I came too. My hand had been furiously rubbing my own cock back and forth across my stomach, and the sensations overwhelmed me. With a series of groans, I felt my dick twitch and strain, followed by the feeling of cum oozing out of my cock and staining the inside of my underwear. It was an incredible feeling and I began to tear up at the overwhelming fervour. Jacob had cum, I had cum, and I was at the centre of it all. I felt beautiful.

Much as I wished to keep my brother’s seed in my mouth, I needed to lick the remaining cream that had escaped and was sliding down his wet, throbbing cock. So I made my choice, swallowed my prize, and lapped away at the warm pole of flesh, giving me a further taste treat and extending the lewd and erotic scene. It was perverted, disgusting and so, so wrong. My body was on fire.

The cooldown soon began. As I licked up Jacob’s remaining cum, I could feel myself slowing down, settling away from my state of horny frenzy and becoming more conscious of the world around me. My brother was also relaxing, his breath becoming slower and his cock losing its intensity. I softly squeezed out his remaining drops, licking and swallowing those last bits of sperm, wishing it could go on but knowing it needed to end. Following one last tasting lick, I lowered my hand to raise Jacob’s underwear, bringing it up to cover our taboo evidence, tucking that softened pole of flesh back into its cloth pouch. Our breaths slowed, and I started to grasp the enormity of our act. I would need to leave.

Following a moment of resting my head upon Jacob’s stomach, feeling his torso rise and drop, I arose, calmly slid off the bed and stood straight up. A half-hour prior, I would have been mortified at the possibility of my brother seeing my arousal, deflated as it now was. However, with our recent actions having changed the game, I simply didn’t care what he saw of me or how brazen I might appear. I straightened my shoulders, causing my breasts to rise and my nipples to poke against my shirt, proud in my body and not ashamed of its appearance. Nor was I bothered by the state of my underwear, in spite of the obvious stain which now marked the front. I had been turned on, I had cum, and I was willing to claim it. I was a sexual being, and it felt great.

That being said, to remain in Jacob’s presence would have been too much, so to our mutual relief, I vacated his room, not a word passing between us. To talk would have been wrong, unnatural. Moments before we had been natural, and I wanted to savour it. I also wanted to fully realize what had happened. It would be a lot to consider, and I knew it could be a long night.

I slept better than I had in ages.

The weekend was both long and short. Fortunately, I had another work-filled weekend which kept the thought wolves at bay, at least during the day. However, when I had time to think, to consider, I questioned what had happened, about my brother, about myself. It had been a monumental occasion, and I wondered if I had sacrificed too much. Although the encounter had been very taboo, not to mention illegal, my greatest concern was my relationship with Jacob. The thought of losing him scared me, cast my mind with doubts, and I spent those two days in a constant state of uncertainty. I may have fucked things up forever, and I’d have no one else to blame.

Monday morning arrived. And I felt better. I awoke with a sense of calm that told me things would be alright. Better yet, after two days of even less communication than usual, Jacob spoke to me. He padded into the kitchen as I made some breakfast.

“Whatcha makin’?”

“Pancakes. Want some?”

“Yeah, I would. Be good to eat.”

Pause.

“You don’t mind me feeding you?”

“Not at all. It’s good when you take care of me. Feels nice.”

“Thanks. Even if it’s your sister?”

“More than anybody else. She’s pretty awesome. I gotta hit the can. I’ll be back.”

Until the bathroom part, they were the most romantic words ever said to me. My brother cared for me, maybe now more than ever. I wasn’t going to lose him.

I mixed the batter with teary eyes.

It became a pretty darn good week. I received strong grades on a couple of big papers, the weather was great, and my boss even gave me a small raise. More unusually, I saw Jacob around the apartment. He emerged from his bedroom cave more often, even sitting with me in the television-less living room on one occasion. While his conversation skills remained Cro-Magnon, Jacob’s increased presence was soothing. I hadn’t fucked up our relationship.

What did seem to be fucked up, or ramped up, was my libido. It was in overdrive, affecting me at all hours of the day and night, causing my mind to dwell on sex and my cock to rise with increasing regularity. Even more notable was how often my mind and body converged around the memory of me and Jacob’s lurid tryst. I found myself remembering his body, particularly his tremendous cock, and how arousing it had been to feel it in my hand and my mouth. By Tuesday, I was stroking my own cock to orgasm at the memory of my brother’s dick. It was becoming irresistible.

I wanted to feel irresistible too. I began to wear my smaller underwear, boy’s jockey shorts, around the apartment, first under my pants, but then on their own. They cupped my small package and framed my tight backside to noticeable effect. The second time I wore them, I caught Jacob checking out my ass. It felt lurid, taboo, and so very wrong. I loved it. I could feel myself warming up.