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Edited – Elizabeth’s story – Background:
I am Elizabeth. Today, I am a happily married woman, age 29 with two small children. By any standard, I am a happy, well adjusted mother and housewife.
The story I am about to tell occurred almost exactly ten years ago, during the summer following my senior year in high school, within a few months of my dad’s death in Afghanistan.
Events occurred that I did not plan, and I am not necessarily proud of; however, after a decade of reflection, I am no longer ashamed of them either.
My husband, whom I adore, knows about these events, and not only understands, but actually finds them stimulating and exciting. He asked me to write and publish this story. I confess, that recalling these events in vivid detail arouses me.
As I look back, ten years later, I both regret and cherish some of the experiences my brother and I shared. I have often wondered if something can be wrong and beautiful at the same time. I think I have come to the conclusion that it can be. In a very real sense, this experience was both; at least to me it was.
I expect most of you will quickly decide that what my brother and I did was wrong; you may, or may not decide it was also beautiful. I actually understand if you decide this was simply wrong. Remember, things are often more complex when you are experiencing them, than they might appear to an outside observer years after the fact.
We lose our father:
Even before my dad was killed, it was pretty much just my mom, my brother and me at home most of the time. Dad was a career military officer who spent extended periods of time deployed overseas. Since many of his deployments were to war zone areas, the rest of the family remained back in the states. We often lived in military housing, either on the base or immediately off the base
Dad was a good man, who loved his country and had a strong sense of duty. He truly believed that the actions of our military served to make the world a better place. Me, I am not so sure. But this story is not about political debates surrounding the U.S. military.
As a military officer, my father was a stern, complex man, who was difficult to get to know. He would pray to his God one moment; and then drink heavily and cuss the next.
He also had a difficult time showing any vulnerability, emotional or otherwise. I know he loved us all; but at times he struggled with precisely how to show that love.
Dad was deployed in the original ‘desert storm’ and ‘desert shield’, and also served during the second Iraq invasion before being deployed to Afghanistan. We received word that Dad was killed shortly after my 19th birthday, the summer before my senior year in high school. His vehicle had encountered a road side bomb. He did not survive the attack.
The news of my father’s death was a devastating blow to me personally; but I seemed to be able to deal with the loss much better than my mother or my younger brother. Mom fell into a bottle, became a heavy drinker, and was ‘passed out drunk’ most nights by 8 p.m. I felt sorry for my mom, but really did not know what, if anything, I could do to help her deal with this loss.
Gary had just turned 18 at the time, seemed to take the loss very hard. Gary had been a good student, active in sports, and really never got into any trouble prior to Dad’s death. Before Dad’s death, Gary talked about attending the Air Force Academy and making the military his career, similar to his father. But his plans and his behavior changed significantly that summer.
Gary’s demise coincided with the news of Dad’s death, and I am convinced Gary’s sudden and precipitous down slide was a direct result of it. Since mom was not in any condition to help anyone most nights, I felt that it was my responsibility to help guide Gary through this grief and get him ‘back on track’, so to speak.
Despite my strongest objections, Gary quit the basketball team following Dad’s death. He had been one of the better forwards on the team. Gary also started drinking and smoking marijuana. Now neither of these are unusual or that horrific for teenage boys as they prepare to enter their senior year in high school, but the change in Gary was clear and evident, and the direction he was heading was not good. Gary also made it clear that he was no longer interested in the military as a college choice or as a career. In fact, Gary started to question whether he wanted to attend college at all.
On the other hand, although I felt a terrible loss, I decided the best way to ‘honor my father’s death and life’ was to continue to be the daughter he wanted me to be. To me, that meant continuing to do well in school, stay active in sports, and go to college as he and I had planned all along. I felt that it would be a tragedy of my father’s dying in defense of America would lead to his own daughter’s future being derailed. As you will read, if you elect to continue with me on my ‘stroll down memory lane’, is that I largely succeeded; but I did allow myself to get involved şişli escort in something which I fear my father would have strongly disapproved; an intimate and inappropriate relationship with my brother.
At age 19, I was an attractive, budding young woman with a sleek, athletic build. I had been captain of the girl’s volley ball team, and had a tall, slender figure with firm, perky breasts that were starting to develop nicely, a nice butt and long legs. I am not conceited about my looks, but these are just the objective facts. I had (and still have) a pretty face with blond hair and green eyes. I had a sweet, innocent, ‘wholesome’ look about me.
I was naïve and inexperienced with boys. Using the high school vernacular, had had never gone past 2 nd base. (Meaning no boy had touched me, nor had I touched any boy, below the waist.) I was more than just a virgin, I was an inexperienced virgin.
Truthfully, sweet, wholesome virginal girls, who seemed intent upon remaining that way, were not the most popular options for high school boys. I did not attract a great deal of attention from boys at my school. I was OK with this fact.
I see my first penis, and it belongs to my brother:
About two months after my father’s death, I got an interesting and disturbing text from one of my best friends. It was about 9:15 p.m. on a Friday night in June, shortly after the school year had ended. I got a text message from Jenna, telling me to call her as soon as I could.
I assumed Jenna wanted to hang out tonight and I could not decide if I wanted to call her or not. I was pretty tired; so I delayed responding to the text.
About ten minutes later I got another text from Jenna. This one said, ‘Call me ASAP. Important. About Gary.’
I was anxious and concerned by the tone of the text. I immediately found a place where I could talk and called Jenna, “What’s going on?”
“You need to come get Gary. He’s all fucked up. He is here over at Caroline’s parent’s house and he is drunk. He threw up all over himself in the basement. Caroline is freaking out because her parents will be home in an hour or so.”
“Oh shit. Goddamn it. I am going to kill the little twerp.” I thought about how to proceed. “OK, I will come right over and get him. Is he passed out?”
“I don’t know. I think he is awake, but he did puke all over himself. He is a mess. He seems a little better since he finished puking. He can walk a little and talk, just not too coherently. But you need to get him out of here before the parental units arrive.” Jenna laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
About twenty minutes later I was over at Caroline’s parent’s house. There were about 8 high school kids in the basement, most had been drinking beer. Gary was sitting on the floor in the bathroom next to the commode. His shirt was missing, and there were stains of vomit on his pants. He stank of vomit and looked like hell.
“Lizard breath. You came to rescue me.” Gary slurred when he saw me. ‘Lizard Breath’ was his pet name for me (Elizabeth, ‘lizard breath’; get it?)
“Damn it Gary, do you think I have nothing better to do than drag your drunk little ass around?” I was more than a little upset with him.
“Lizard Breath, cool your jets! If I wanted an ass eating, I could have had Jenna call mom. Just get me home, OK?”
“Come on, let’s get in the car. You are not going to puke in my car, are you?” That would have been over the line.
“I think I got that all out of my system already.” He said smugly.
Caroline spoke up, “Take that waste paper can with you. If he gets sick again, he can puke in that on the ride home.”
“Oh great, the upside for me tonight is I get to drive home smelling my vomit coated brother. The downside is he pukes and I hope he gets most of it in the pail. Wonderful. Let’s go. Where’s your shirt?” I was irritated that this was falling on my shoulders.
“Here it is.” Jenna said as she handed me a plastic supermarket bag with the soiled shirt in it.
I opened the bag to look in and the smell was horrible. “Shit. This reeks!”. I sealed the bag quickly as I turned my head away from the smell. I realized that Gary did not smell much better.
We loaded Gary, shirtless, in the front passenger seat of my car, and I drove home, mostly in silence. Gary made a few smart assed remarks that I mostly ignored. As we pulled into the driveway, I said, “It is a good think mom has probably gone to bed, or you’d be in for it.”
This evoked a loud laugh from my brother, “Gone to bed? Is that what you call it? She’s paralyzed drunk, passed out.”
“Gary, she is having a bad time of it since Dad died. Give her a break.” Despite the fact that I was really pissed at my mom for not being stronger, I felt compelled to defend her.
“She’s having a tough time of it? What about me? What about you?” Gary was becoming a bit belligerent. I decided I did not need to argue with my drunk younger brother about my mom’s behavior.
“Let’s suadiye escort not fight about this. It appears to me that you lost your ‘moral high ground’ to criticize mom for drinking too much tonight anyhow.” I could not resist this final barb.
Gary was not so drunk that he did not see the irony and hypocrisy of criticizing mom for drinking in his current state. “Point taken” was his only response.
I helped steady him up the step to his bedroom. “Give me those pants and I will wash your shirt and pants for you before mom gets wise.”
Gary unbuckled his pants, unclasped the snap and pulled them down, along with his underwear. As he did, his flaccid penis flopped out.
I was shocked and amazed, “Jesus, Gary, I did not mean for you to strip naked.” I could not help staring at the six inch long flaccid penis in front of me.
“Hell, it’s not like you have never seen one of these before, sis.” Gary said, stepping out of the legs of his pants, and attempting to hand them to me. Gary seemed to be completely at ease being naked right now with no pretense of modesty.
I stood there in shock. The truth was that this was the very first penis I had ever seen, but I certainly did not want to admit my inexperience to my younger brother, who appeared to me much more experienced and worldly than his older sister at this moment. “That’s not the point, Gary. You are not supposed to be showing your dick to your sister.”
But despite my desire to look away, I could not stop staring at my first real life viewing of a penis. I was mesmerized by its size, shape and color. The first thing I noticed was the distinct head that appeared to stand apart from the shaft. And the color was darker, almost purple; nothing like Gary’s normal complexion.
I must admit, I was intrigued by the cock exposed in front of me despite the fact that it was attached to my brother. I was embarrassed and excited at the same time; but I could not stop staring. In his alcohol induced haze, Gary did not seem to notice my stare.
He shoved the pants and underwear, all wadded together, at me. “Girl, take care of my laundry, light starch on the shirt, press the slacks, have them back to me in the morning.” He joked and then fell backwards on to his bed atop the covers. As he fell back, I remember his penis flopping up and slapping against his lower abdomen, making a distinct smacking sound.
I slowly turned away, and started down to the laundry room, holding the ‘vomit soiled’ clothing at arms length away from me. But as I walked away, I realized that I could feel my pulse in my clitoris and my vagina was getting wet. The sight of my brother’s penis was arousing me! I was embarrassed by my reaction, but I was reacting to this sight. And the image of Gary’s naked body, particularly his penis, was etched in my mind, firmly! I caught myself looking back over my shoulder as I exited his room, stealing one more glance at his naked body.
I started the load of wash, looked in on my mom and determined that she was, in fact, asleep or passed out, depending upon your point of view. I went back upstairs. Initially, I was just going to go into my room, but as I ascended the stairs, I was drawn back to Gary’s room. The pull was too powerful to resist.
I am ashamed to admit it, but I wanted to see his penis again. So under the guise of checking on him to make sure he was OK, I knocked on his door, and opened it without waiting to be invited in.
Gary was lying on his back, naked on his bed, spread eagle. I had to admit that he had started to develop a marvelous body. He had muscular arms and shoulders; a well defined chest; a flat, tight abdomen; nice, muscular thighs; and a very intriguing penis. Although I had no other penises to compare to it, Gary’s penis seemed exceptionally large and thick compared to what I expected a penis to be.
“Are you OK?” I asked, looking for some reason to enter his room.
“I will be when you stop spinning the room.” Gary had his arm across his face, shielding his eyes as he lay totally exposed on his back. With his arm blocking his eyes, I felt a bit more at ease inspecting my brother’s naked form. I noticed that his penis was twitching slightly, and seemed to grow slightly with each twitch.
“Well, the best solution to the ‘spinning room’ is don’t drink. If you dance to the music….” I quipped, trying to make small talk.
“Could we hold the lecture until the morning? I might even remember and listen to it then.” Gary asked, without removing his arm from across his eyes.
I decided he was right, and remained silent. I stood there studying his naked form for several moments before I grabbed a sheet from the hall linen closet, and covered my brother’s naked form. I closed the door quietly as I left, and retreated to my room next door. I could not get the image out of my mind.
I undressed, donned my normal sleeping attire: a tee shirt and kept on my panties. And I climbed into bed.
Almost without thinking, taksim escort I found my fingers moving inside my panties as I revisited the image of my brother’s naked body. I was surprised at how wet I was. My reaction again embarrassed me. I felt ashamed , but very aroused. I rubbed small circles around my erect clitoris, and I achieved an orgasm remarkably quickly. Normally it takes me 15 minutes of so to masturbate to orgasm. Tonight I got myself there in about three minutes. I was not proud of myself at that moment. But the orgasm was more intense than normal.
My self induced sexual release relaxed me, and I drifted off to sleep still thinking about that wonderfully erotic image of my brother’s penis.
The next morning:
I awoke, went down and moved Gary’s clothes from the washer to the dryer. I was feeling some compassion for him, so I got a glass of juice and two Tylenol pills, and took them to him. Additionally, I am ashamed to admit, I did feel a magnetic attraction to try to sneak a peek at Gary’s penis again. I had my robe on over my tee shirt and panties.
As I approached Gary’s bedroom door with the juice and Tylenol, I untied my robe and allowed it to hang open from my shoulders. I would like to claim I do not know why I did this; but that would be a lie. Something inside me, which I do not understand, wanted to expose my firm, and now erect, braless nipples and panties to Gary’s gaze.
I must admit, after being so intrigued by Gary’s body myself; I wanted Gary to admire my body as well; I wanted Gary to acknowledge, even if only to himself, that his older sister was developing a very nice body too.
I was not thinking about any physical contact between us; but I did want to demonstrate that I looked pretty damn good too. I wanted my brother to know that he was not the only one with a phenomenally nice body in the making. As I said, I do not fully understand why getting an admiring glance from Gary was important to me. Why did I want him to notice my figure? I simply do not know; but I did.
The very thought of what I was going to do, and the vivid image of his naked penis caused my nipples to harden and my vagina to grow moist. I felt wicked, and that wickedness excited me. Up to this point in my life, I had been the perfect vestal virgin; untouched without having a single wicked thought or action.
I knocked on the door and, again, opened it without waiting for an invitation in. “Gary, are you still alive? Here take this, it will help you feel human again.”
I walked in offering the juice and Tylenol. Gary stirred, and tried to open his eyes, but clearly was having trouble focusing. He was lying on his back, very much in the same position that I had left him in last night. The sheet which was lying over his naked form revealed a clear and distinct outline of his shape.
The very first thing that I noticed was the huge erection Gary was sporting this morning. The sheet did little to hide the size and dimensions of this rigid tool. I had never seen an erect penis before, and I was astonished at the apparent length and girth of this erection barely hiding under the sheet.
I handed him the juice as he struggled to sit up, and actually placed the two Tylenol into his mouth as he opened for me. Sitting up now, with the sheet gathered around his waist, his erection made a tent poking straight up. It was so obvious, it was distracting to me. Despite me intentionally looking away several times, Gary’s erection seemed to demand that my eyes return again and again to glance at the large pole sticking straight up straining at the sheet. I could feel myself blush each time I did so; afraid Gary would notice my fixation.
“Thank you, sis. And thanks for getting me last night. I am sorry I am such a pain.” As Gary spoke, it occurred to me that he did not seem to be aware of his obvious boner.
“It’s OK. I’d say that ‘you would do the same for me’, but I think you probably would just leave me swimming in my own vomit in the basement of Caroline’s house!” We both laughed at the thought. I turned and started the leave, not sure where this was going, and wanting to leave before my fixation with his erection became too obvious.
“Sis, stay and talk to me.” Gary got serious. “Do you miss him a lot?”
“Of course I do.” I responded. “We all do. It is hard on all of us. I understand what you are going through.” I paused and we sat there in silence, thinking about what we had lost. “But he would want us to go on and not ‘wallow in grief’. Dad would want us to use his death to motivate us, not to defeat us. He would want us to lean on each other now.”
I leaned in and hugged him, and he hugged me back. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I reflected on Dada and his death. This hug was affectionate, and not the least bit sexual or inappropriate. As I write this it occurs to me that was the last hug Gary & ever shared that did not have some sexual tension. Holding him for those 30 to 40 seconds, I felt the tears start to stream down my face. And I tried to regain my composure.
After a minute or two, I broke the silence, “Look, I don’t want to be mean; but your breath stinks. If you want to talk any more, you need to go brush your teeth and rinse your mouth out.” I sat on the edge of his bed waiting for his reaction to my candid remark.
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