I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and just staring at the wall. My brothers were in another room, which one I wasn't exactly sure. After David's unexpected arrival John and Jeff went into a kind of panic. It was almost like dad had caught them misbehaving, but it was more than that. They had a kind of fear for my eldest brother that I didn't fully understand. Perhaps I did, though I did not view David the same way.
David was a bit of a bully growing up. He was always teasing, taunting, bossing around and pushing. Over the years, this kind of mentality softened a bit, but I supposed in this moment John and Jeff and David, for that matter, all regressed into some early stage.
That was the problem. After everything that had happened, I could not regress. I wasn't able to. I felt like I had a sudden taste of something and now everything else I had eaten in the past lost all its flavor. To go back to the roles of what our family was felt foreign, silly and just wrong. For the first time in my life, I had felt like I was free to just be me. But now, suddenly, I was a ball of stress again. I didn't understand any of it. I had no way to understand it. I wasn't sure what the big deal was. But I felt that way about most emotions. I knew what was happening wasn't "normal" in the sense that other families didn't engage in what we were doing. But at the same time, this was the first time in my life that I was actually feeling normal.
I continued to look at the wall. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. My feelings on this whole matter was clear and for whatever reason my brothers had to sort out their end of things.
"It isn't supposed to be so hard," I whispered.
I let the blanket slip down from my breast and I looked down. I could still see the faint marks from Jeff sucking on my nipple. It was so simple. I thought about all the different shirts, dresses, tank tops and the like that I owned. I thought about all the bras and all the times I had done my best to cover my breasts and to keep them secure. I didn't know what I was doing. I never did. I thought about the different work out classes I went to and all I did to try to be healthy and I realized that, though my activities made some sense, my motivation was unclear.
"Who really knows why they do anything?" I asked myself.
I knew that men, and some women, looked at my breasts. I knew they were big and perky and I always had some form of cleavage no matter how hard I tried. I thought about the way Jeff looked at me and I knew deep down what I had always known and yet I couldn't put it into words. Not until now at least. My breasts were not supposed to be covered and hidden.
I thought about the restaurant and the tips I made when I wore my tighter, more revealing shirts. Of course the money from extra tips was nice. It was motivating. But that wasn't really why I liked to wear those shirts. Indeed I did like to wear them. I liked the way people looked at my tits. I liked it when the men at a table stopped looking me in the eye and just looked at my chest. It was as if the whole social dance or game was suspended and we were all just being who and what we were. I did not know what to do when they looked me in the eye and spoke to me. I didn't understand the rules of conversation, inflection, emotion and my role. I memorized rules but I did not understand them fully. Not really. I never would.
But I did understand when Jeff stopped looking into my eyes and start to suck my nipple. I understood his lust and my purpose was clear: I was an object of his lust. I was an object not just of his lust, but of all their lust. My mind was secondary to my body.
In a series of images, almost like a movie and almost like a trance I saw myself. I truly saw myself. I saw my mouth and my tongue. It wasn't for talking. My mouth was for kissing, sucking, fucking and cum. I never felt more at home then these last few days then when my mouth was busy on one of my brothers' cocks. My mouth was a zero. It was a hole. The simpler functions of my mind would take over and I was fully alive when my mouth was being used. I found myself making an "O" with my mouth as I considered this.
In my mind I saw my tits. My nipples and areolas were perfect circles. They were zeros as well. Not to be hidden but to be used, to be squeezed, pinched, sucked, licked and fucked. I thought of all the times I was called a "big tittied bitch" or some such name and I realized how much I liked those names. They drew attention to the part of me that was important. The part of me that was to be used. The part of me that had real purpose.
In my mind I saw my pussy and I realized again that the truth was a simple one. Like my mouth, my pussy was a hole. It was a zero. If there was any part of my body that was specifically for sex and lust it was my pussy. It wasn't my mind that needed to be engaged and filled, it was actually my vagina. There was a reason it felt so good when I was being used like that. Purpose.
My mind went to my ass and I thought about John's fingers pushing into me. I realized I had no relationship with my butt outside of purely biological. But John's attention made me think that there was more to it. In my mind I saw my ass. It was round and my hole was round.
"It's a zero," I said with a subtle smile. "They are all zeros."
