This is a work of fiction and all characters are over 18.
*****
Although a quarter of a century has passed since these incidents occurred, it seems like only yesterday that they happened. I have never related these events to another living soul until now. To the best of my knowledge, my brother and I are the only people who are aware of our time of discovery together. And now I share these events with you...
Yes, I suspect it is a combination of shame and guilt that have kept either Gary or me from sharing these experiences with even our closest friends, or even with our spouses. These events had a profound impact on my life, my psyche' and my future sexual desires. They shaped who I am and what arouses me.
I did not expect nor desire what happened. I would never have predicted that my first, and possibly my most enjoyable, sexual encounter of my life would be shared with my brother.
I asked that the readers try to suspend judgment as they read of this story of sexual discovery that felt completely fulfilling, beautiful and intimate to me as I made this journey. I ask that you try to understand that many 'sins' that we commit are simply because we are placed into a situation that adequately tempt us. I ask that the readers recognize this story for what it is, a beautiful and emotionally draining, but guilt ridden, sexual awakening. An awakening that society has deemed completely inappropriate, yet one I still find incredibly arousing.
As a young girl, I was tempted and I succumbed.
One final point, I confess that as I write this I am becoming aroused and excited by these memories. Yes, as I start to record my sexual discovery with my brother, I am acutely aware of my pulse in my now erect clitoris, and the distinct wetness of my vagina. My nipples are erect, and I am leaking into the gusset of my panties at the very thought of these events.
Yes, despite the shame and guilt I feel, these memories arouse me more than you can imagine, even today. I am certain that as I tell my story, and relive these intimate events, I will stop occasionally to relieve my excitement by masturbating. I want you to share my excitement, so whenever I do stop to masturbate, I will make note of it in the story with a comment: (masturbation break), so you will know when I have felt the need to release my tensions and have a climax.
It was the spring of 1990. I was a senior in high school and had just turned 18. My body was still developing. My hormones were raging. I was acutely aware of my clitoris and my nipples seemed to be perpetually erect.
Unfortunately, for a variety of reasons, I was not the girl of choice among the limited assortment of teenage boys at my high school.
Perhaps it was because I was a straight 'A' student, whom the teachers seemed to love but many other students seem to resent. Perhaps it was the fact that I had shot up to nearly six foot tall, and towered over most of the boys in my class. Perhaps it was because while my figure was now developing, and my breasts while perky and firm, they were a rather small, 'B' cup; I was not the voluptuous symbol of sexy many adolescent boys desire. Perhaps it was the fact that I was a female athlete and not a 'girly girl' that many of the boys seemed to seek out. Or perhaps it was because I was basically shy and had trouble with the witty but cuttingly sarcastic banter that the popular kids seemed to have mastered so effectively.
Regardless of the reason, mine was a lonely existence as I prepared to graduate and move on to college next year. Fortunately, I discovered the wonders of masturbation, and that helped me keep my sanity and alleviate the constant desire that centered around my loins. Yes, I had become very good friends with my clitoris. I had mastered the key to achieving very pleasant, but private, orgasms before falling off to sleep most nights.
As I grew from an adolescent girl to a young woman, I was absolutely obsessed with being seen and treated as a mature adult. Nothing infuriated me as much as being perceived as a child, or a little girl, who was not taken seriously. This was particularly true in my relationship with my older brother. I desperately wanted to be 'grown up'; perhaps I wanted this a little bit too much.
My family situation was fairly normal. Gary was a year older than me and a freshman at a university located about an hour and a half from our home. Gary was home for spring break. I had not seen him since Christmas and was thrilled to have him home.
Gary was a gifted athlete who had been the second leading scorer on the high school basketball team. He had enjoyed the adoration of the entire school as a star basketball player, but now he was just now coming to grips with the fact he was not the celebrity at college that he had been in high school.
Over Christmas, Gary had confessed that he missed the attention he enjoyed previously, and lamented that he may never get that feeling again. The thought seemed to depress him.
Both my parents worked in demanding professional jobs. They both traveled, leaving me alone often. On occasion, their work would take them away over night at the same time, leaving me to fend for myself for a day or two. I was basically trustworthy. By 'basically trustworthy' I mean, I would not do anything too terribly stupid or outrageous. To be perfectly honest, I had experimented with pot and alcohol, as almost all kids will; however I would never drive impaired, or drive with anyone who was impaired. Also, I would never have a group of kids over the house while my parents were away. In short, I knew where the boundaries were and could stay within them.
Gary and I were close as siblings, but we also typically respected each other's space and privacy. We fought occasionally, but we had a closeness and bond that only siblings can understand. We both realized that no one else could ever see the world from our vantage point; as the only two children of our parents. In short, I missed him when he left for college, particularly when both parents were away on business and I was home alone for several days.
It was a Wednesday evening in early April, 1990, and Gary was going to be home for a little more than a week, when both mom and dad were called away on separate business trips. Mom would return on Friday, and dad was away for about a week. This left Gary and me alone at home for the next two nights. I was glad he was home and I would not be alone.
On the first night, we shared a casserole that mom had left us. Afterward, Gary went out to the back patio by the pool, and lit a joint. This was a fairly brazen thing for him to do. I was not aware of any other time he had smoked pot at home; certainly never in my presence.
I was not shocked or offended, but I was intrigued. I did not want to come across as the little kid sister who might 'squeal to mom and dad', but I did want to understand what was going on with my brother.
"Gary, what gives? You probably shouldn't be doing that at home. What if the parental units find out? You'll be toast," I cautioned.
"They will never know a thing, sis. I wouldn't do this in the house. But out here by the pool, there really is no risk," he replied.
Obviously, he had grown more bold since leaving for college.
We had a nice pool and Jacuzzi in a fenced backyard. It was secluded and private. Someone would have to make a concerted effort to spy over the six foot wooden fence through the lush landscaping to see anything we were up to in our yard.
"But you never smoked at home before. What gives?" I pressed further.
"I don't know. I guess I am pretty bummed out about school. I am struggling in a couple of my math and finance courses. I am not sure I am cut out for college. I guess I am nervous about having to start to grow up. I have had a pretty good time in high school. What if this is as good as it gets for me? What it everything is down hill from here."
