Big Brother

Danny was a few years older, and he sexually harassed me for years, but he didn’t tell me that’s what he was doing. #Covert

He lied, and made excuses, like “Oops.” He just accidentally walked in on me changing, or in the bathroom. “It was an accident,” but he kept doing it, and seeing me naked. So, I got used to him seeing me naked, but I didn’t say anything to anyone else about it.

I told him to stop, at first, but after he kept doing it enough times, I just gave up, because I knew that he wouldn’t stop. I don’t even remember when he started, just that he always liked to look between my legs, even when I had underwear on, or looking up my skirt.

He also helped me climb up, pretty much any chance he got, or any excuse to climb up things. He wasn’t strong enough to pick me up, and carry me around, but he’d say “Ladies first.” Use that excuse to look up my skirt, touch my legs, and between them. Pushing me up by the butt, and squeezing it in both hands.

I liked it, I guess I liked climbing up on the fence, and the roof. At first, but when we got up there. He asked me “Isn’t it exciting?” and I felt thrilled just to be up so high. Where I could see out a long way, and over the neighbor’s yards, but then he asked me “Isn’t it romantic?”

I didn’t really understand the concept. Yeah, I was a girl, and I had friends that talked about romantic things. Watching the sunset was a big one, so I said “Wait ’till the sun goes down,” because that was the only romantic thing I could think of, but he took my hand, and held it.

Oh yeah, let me go back to the 4th of July, because that was the first time we’d gotten up there, I think. Dad set up a ladder, and held it for us, but mom said “Be careful,” a lot. I remember watching the fireworks from up there, how pretty, and exciting it was, with them popping, and seeming so close that I could feel the explosions in my chest.

Dad had driven down to Mexico, just to get illegal fireworks. Not to say that fireworks were illegal, but these were the big ones. In a big cardboard tube, with a square plastic base like a mortar. It turns out that it was a Mortar, for fireworks, and there was this town where they made them. That’s where daddy went, to get the best fireworks, and even a book for me there.

“The Fabulous Firework Family,” so that’s why they seemed so close, to me. I was young, probably too young to understand that the 10 feet or so off the ground didn’t really make much of a difference, but because dad was launching them from the back yard, you could feel the thump, and look up, expecting the bright burst of fireworks over the house, and the whole yard.

He practically won an award, for the neighborhood. Not literally, they didn’t give out awards for the best fireworks display, but he was like that, on Holidays. It had to be the best Christmas ever, for instance. So, he competed with the other dads around the neighborhood, to make it a Winter Wonderland, and then argued over who had the best house.

That 4th of July, there was no arguing who had the best fireworks, but mom mostly stood back by the fence, and yelled “You two be careful up there!” While dad set up the next firework charge. He was safe enough about it, he wore gloves, and safety glasses, and stepped back, but they went off high enough above us to burn out, before they came down in bits of burnt paper.

I still remember the smell of fireworks, and the bits of burnt paper we found all over the place, for weeks after to remind us. Danny didn’t get handsy, that first night. Not with mom right there watching us, I just didn’t realize it at the time, until I thought back to when he started molesting me. Because when he started, I didn’t know that’s what was going on, only that he liked to look at my undies, or me naked, but he told me.

“It’s okay, I’m your brother.” Like it’s okay, if a doctor makes you take off your clothes, so she can give you a checkup. Mom was right there, and she always told me to cover myself. Whenever my dress, or skirt slipped up my lap, so she taught me how to sit. With my knees together, or cross my legs, but never lift them up so my skirt slips down, because somebody might see my underwear.

My bare legs, or between them, but also my friends, too. They were all girls, and of course we saw each other’s underwear, or even naked when we slept over, changing in and out of our night clothes for bed, or in the morning. So, Danny told me it was okay, like them. “It doesn’t count if I’m family, dad gets to see you in your underwear when he kisses you goodnight, too.”

“Mom, too.” But only after I got in bed, and pulled my covers up over my legs. I wore Pajamas, or a night gown over them. So, he didn’t really get to see me in my underwear, but I didn’t think about that. I thought surely, he must have some time, when he came in to kiss me goodnight, and sometimes read me stories until I fell asleep. Mostly, that was mommy duty, but she didn’t always get the chance, because she was busy, or tired, so daddy did it sometimes, too.

Then, they just stopped. I guess I was getting a little too old to read me bedtime stories, and I could read books for myself. I just took them to bed, and everyone else went to their rooms.
Except mom, and dad went to their room, and slept together. Of course, they were married, and had kids, but I didn’t know how they went about making babies, until Danny came in one night, and showed me.

He had a “Story book,” he called it, but really it was the Kama Sutra, so it didn’t really have a story to go with the pictures. Instead, it had names, like The Cow, and how that was good for deep penetration, but the people in it were just black outlines, on a white background, you could still tell they were naked.

“And then, on their honeymoon, the husband picked up his wife, and carried her into the bedroom…” I don’t remember the full story he made up, but I remember that part. I’d seen it on TV, and movies, because that’s the sort of thing a man did for his wife, when they got married, or bought a new house.

“Then,” he told me, “She got pregnant,” and he went on to explain how that happened. I knew what pregnant was, but I hadn’t heard how the baby got there in the first place, nor even how the doctors got the baby out of the mother. Just that she wasn’t fat, she was going to have a baby, and then she went to the hospital. They had to rush to get to the hospital, because it was one of those shows where everything that can go wrong did, to make it interesting.

Not “Murphy’s Law,” that was a different show mom liked to watch, but you get the idea. After she got back from the hospital, she was thin again, and they had a baby which grew up as the show went on. I remember seeing her with her legs up, but being a TV show, they didn’t point the camera between her legs. The doctor got down there, and reached up under the blankets to pull the baby out. She was messy, and covered in blood. So, I guess that I assumed there was surgery involved, to remove the baby, but that’s all I remember.

Then Danny turned around on the bed, so he was faced the other way, and I could see his pecker sticking out of his pajama pants. He told me, “This goes in here,” and he touched me through the sheet. My nighty, and my undies, but it was a pretty warm night. I remember that, and the night clothes I was wearing. The light sheets, because if it was colder, then I would have worn my PJs, and had at least another blanket along with the sheet.

It was hot enough just to wear a nighty, and cover up with just a sheet. Even though he was my brother, and he told me it was okay, to look at my panties, because he was my brother. I believed him, but there was still this part of me that felt a little uncomfortable with the way he looked at me in my underwear, or the few times he got to see me naked.

Deep inside, I knew that it was wrong, because the look on his face told me. Even as the words coming out of his mouth assured me that it was “All right.” He just touched me, through the sheet, and my night clothes. Then he let go, but he kept playing with himself, until finally, he took a deep breath, and held it. He shook the whole bed, and the faces he made were so funny, I giggled a little.

“What’s wrong, did you hurt yourself?” I wasn’t teasing, it honestly looked like it hurt, but he said “No,” and took the Kama Sutra back on his way out. Tucked it back in his pajama bottoms, and buttoned up the fly, but he didn’t wear the top. Just the shorts, cut off from pajama pants, because it was too hot to wear anything else, but then I talked to my friends.

It had to be a lot later, because it was cold, and we’re bundled up at the bus stop in the morning. With jackets, and our mittens, or gloves on, and stuffed in our pockets, because it was that cold, and windy too. I had a hood on, with fake fur around it, the neck, and the cuffs of my jacket, too. I remember that, because the cuffs sealed around my pockets, so the cold wind didn’t blow in, and I was warm enough.

Then, the girls talked about boys, and there were some 6 graders there. Girls of all ages, but the youngest one couldn’t have been 10 yet, and I must have been, I don’t know. Young, too young to have started my period, at least.

I’d heard about that too, because the 6 grader girls, they talked about stuff. Older girl stuff, like puberty, boys, and complained about maxi pads when it came to that time of the month. Oh yeah, an all girl’s school. So, there weren’t any boys around the bus stop, but one of them bragged that she’d gotten to “Short stop,” over Christmas break.

She had a boyfriend, and started getting breasts. So he’d gotten to second base earlier. What comes after that really depends on what girl you ask, a home run is all the way of course, but there’s a whole lot you can do between heavy petting, and full on sex.

She joked about “Short stop,” because he couldn’t hold it. “He barely even got it out of his pants, and right after I touched it, I barely even got 2 strokes before he got off.”

That left a lot of questions for me, and the other girls. The younger girls, like “Got off of what?” She didn’t say what he was on, so the 6 graders turned to us, and explained everything as best they could, before the bus showed up. I remember one of them pulled her hand out of her jacket, and she didn’t have any gloves on, but she put it right back in her pocket. After she did a quick demonstration of how you perform a hand-job, on the air.

“Oh.” I realized, that’s what Danny was doing, that night he showed me the Kama Sutra, and made up a story about a husband and wife, making babies on their wedding night. So, he could get hard, touching me through the covers, and jerk off. Only I was still young and ignorant to think of it as giving himself a hand-job.

So, then the bus came, and we split up. The 6 grade girls sat all the way in the back, to keep talking about big girl stuff, and I kept talking to my friends about peters, pissers, peenies, peenuts, and other boy parts. I bragged that I saw one, and it was “Sticking up out of his pants, like this.” I used my thumb, held it down in my lap, and demonstrated how to give a hand job, while they giggled.

Then, I told them what I knew about girl parts, boy parts, and how you can put them together to make babies. “That’s called Mating.” One girl remembered, while another one called it “Breeding,” because it turns out that her mom got her a puppy, from a breeder. The Mating thing came from some nature show or another on PBS, where the big horned sheep made a mating call, and butted their heads together to show off for the girl sheep, who’re in heat, and finally, they had to get the bitch fixed, because she grew out of being a puppy, and started to getting in heat.

“Oh,” we figured it out, as best we could from what we could gather from nature shows, dog breeding, and what we over-heard the older girls talking about. Having periods, “That not so fresh feeling,” mommy talks, boyfriends, and stuff.

Then, my brother got horny again, and brought the Kama Sutra back to tuck me in. Only instead of making up a story, I told him all about what I had learned. The older girl getting to “Short stop” with their boyfriends, and why it’s called that.

He laughed, and said that’s because they’re elementary school boys, and they can’t hold it, like Jr. High boys. He didn’t say what they were holding, but he asked me if I wanted to try it, and unbuttoned the fly on his pajama bottoms. I put the book down, because it just had drawings of naked people in silhouette, but being almost a teenager, Danny had grown a little bit, and I giggled.

“It’s hairy!” I didn’t know that boys got hair in there, like girls did, but only because the 6 graders on the bus complained about having to shave their legs, and “Sluts shave their pubes.” That’s what they said, only a slut would do that to show off their pussies, and then I remembered how dirty we were when we used to take baths together.

As little kids, brother, and sister, we shared bath water, and the tub was big enough for both of us. Danny showed me how a boy peed, and I was already potty trained, so I showed him how girls pee, and then I wiped. I didn’t know that boys didn’t wipe after peeing, but then I flushed, and got back in the bathtub.

He got up on his knees, so his pisser was out of the water, and showed me how a boy washes it out. His foreskin, and how he had to squeeze it so it popped out. The foreskin wrinkled up around the head so he could pee, or wash it. Then, he sat down in the water again, so it floated up, and I stood up to take the soap, and wash my privates out.

He helped me, and let me help him wash out his penis, but I guess that’s how we started doing incest stuff. I blamed myself for making him so horny, and obsessed with my privates. When the truth is, he was always like that, but took advantage of me. My innocent ignorance, he manipulated me so I thought it was all my idea, and I’d keep the dirty secrets.

So, then he asked me about the older girls at school, and whether they did this, or that with their boyfriends. I didn’t know, but I shook my head, because they never mentioned it. Just the 1 girl, in 6 grade, bragging about getting to short stop, but he asked me if he fingered her too?

“No, what’s that?” I had some idea, but he pulled the covers down, and my PJs apart, to touch me through my underwear. I kept playing with his boner, and I found his balls, too. They were hairy too, but I didn’t know how to make him cum. Other than what I saw, briefly when that 6 grader took her bare hand out of her pocket to show us.

So, I knew to grab it, and pump it up, and down. Even though Danny just pinched it with 2 fingers, the first time he jerked off in front of me. Then, he let my pajama bottoms snap back over my undies, and put his elbow down between my legs. He made that face again, and I felt his ball bag tighten up first. Then, a bulge ran up my palm, and shot out the top.

I laughed, and covered my mouth, but all I could think was I Did It! I finished my first hand-job, and I saw what he was holding back.

“Huh!” He just lay back on my leg, and it shriveled up. The skin wrinkled, and popped over the head one last time, while it dribbled out, and soaked into the front of his pajama pants.

I asked him what that stuff was, but like always, he finished, and buttoned up his fly. Then he left without a word. That left me with a little gunk on my fingers, but I let go as soon as it started shooting out, and covered my mouth so I didn’t laugh loud enough for mom, and dad to hear.

I knew that, I wasn’t supposed to give my brother a hand job, and if mom came in to catch us at it, we’d probably both be in trouble. Me for doing it, and Danny for letting me, but that’s how naive I was. Honestly, I’m ashamed of that now, that I know that it was all his fault. He harassed me for years to get me used to him looking at me with naked lust on his face. Waited until mom, and dad stopped reading me good night stories, and brought that book in to show me sex stuff, to get me to do it.

I blamed myself, because that’s what victims do, and I guess it helps you feel less like a victim, if you imagine some sort of agency? If it was my idea to jerk him off, instead of the 6 graders, or the thought he spent years putting in my head. Then I could feel proud of myself, for doing big girl stuff with a boy. Instead of ashamed of being a slutty little girl, and molested by her pervert brother, once he’d groomed me long enough to think that it was.

Okay, not okay. Dirty, but private. So, I had 2 reasons to keep the secret: 1, because I was too young to even know so much about sex stuff, but also because mom, and dad did it. Of course, that’s how they made babies, but always in private, and even when dad touched her bra through her top, she slapped his hand, and said “Not in front of the kids.”

That’s as far as it went, before I got my own ideas, and actively pursued it, but in my own little way. Grandma had these doilies, with the rest of her tea set. She wasn’t British, God rest her soul, but she still liked English things. Like having tea, and calling cookies Biscuits, putting on a posh accent, and playing tea with us girls.

I didn’t have any sisters, but we did have aunts, uncles, and cousins. So, we got together at grandma’s house for a big old tea party, every week after church. Until her health turned poor, and we couldn’t come over as often, or we didn’t want to watch her waste away in bed, and carry the tea-tray in to her, because she smelled like baking bread, or beer.

Normally, that’s a good smell, but not when it’s the smell of someone you love, dying. Slowly, painfully, and we had to leave the room after we handed her the bed-pan. So she could take care of business, because we didn’t want to help her up, to the toilet when grandaddy wasn’t around.

He wasn’t in much better shape, but anyway. Sorry, she had doileys, and one of the last times we’re all over there, in our Sunday best. We put them on our heads, and there weren’t any boys around, but we played “Wedding” anyway. Taking turns being the pastor, the groom, and of course the bride with the big doily for the teapot over our hair for a veil.

Then, we all got black hats, and veils for the funeral. So I knew that it was white veils for your wedding, black veils for a funeral. My uncle Tim got divorced, and remarried again, but it turns out that he cheated on that one too, and they got divorced again. I only bring that up, because I had a dress from the wedding. Only instead of white, it was yellow, with light purple trim, because aunt Karen wanted everyone to wear lemon, and lilac. Some of my cousins had lilac dresses, with lemon yellow trim, but the best I could do was that, and the black hat from grandma’s funeral, because it had a veil.

Danny, and I had the house to ourselves, and he got a couple bucks for watching me, but while I got dressed up, he was out watching TV in the living room, until I came out, all dressed up. “You want to play wedding night with me, after your show.” He looked up, and then I added, “But you have to promise that you won’t put it in all the way, because I want to save it for my real husband.”

Knowing deep down that my brother didn’t really like playing girl games, to hear him talk to his friends. He only played them with me as an excuse to see me in my underwear playing dressup, or help me up on the roof, but we rushed through the ceremony. As soon as he got up, and looked down at me, I just lifted the veil, and said “You may kiss the bride.”

Then, I remember the first time he kissed me, up on the roof. I told my friends that it was just some boy, and I don’t remember his name, but they knew all about the fireworks from that fall when I got back from summer vacation, and I told everyone. We climbed up a ladder, to get up on the roof, and the neighbors sure are lucky that we didn’t have an award for the best fireworks, because my dad would have won it, hands down.

Then, Danny helped me up on the fence, and lifted me up over the gutters, so I could crawl onto the roof in my sun dress, and he could not only get a good look at my underwear, but also feel up my legs, between them, and squeeze my butt through the seat.

“Huh!” By then, I’d figured out that’s exactly what he was doing, when he asked me isn’t it romantic? I told him to wait until the sun went down, and he did, before he kissed me. Not like he ever kissed me goodnight, when mom, and dad were around. Not like a big brother does, when mom used to make him kiss me goodnight, but the way that a big brother should never kiss his little sister.

The way that only a husband kisses his wife, or at least a boyfriend kisses his girlfriend. Before he gets to second base, or even short-stop, if he’s lucky. So then, he picked me up, and carried me down the hall, to mom, and dad’s room. He was big, and strong enough to pick me up, but even before he made it to the door, he was out of breath. I opened the door knob for him, and he practically ran to throw me on the bed before his arms gave out.

“Huh, huh!” He was panting, sweaty, and red faced. Like he would be, after making love. If all the TV shows, and PG romantic movies I’d seen were any indication, but I kicked my shoes off, and spread my legs with my knees up. So my dress stretched over them, and he could see the panties I wore.

My best underwear, mom had gotten me for my 11th birthday, because I asked her about her nicest ones. Helping her wash them in the sink, she didn’t tell me what she wore them for, I already knew. They were lingerie, to wear just long enough to get dad in the mood, then take them off to make love.

“I wore your favorite, these are your favorite panties, right?” I knew that, from hand washing them alone. So mom didn’t see the white stains he left in them, but he’d been beating off for years. Everywhere, and I left them in the hamper, in the bathroom along with the rest of my clothes I took off for a bath, or a shower.

I knew what that stuff was, and I even fingered myself, imagining him getting them out. Still warm, and rubbing them on his face. Taking a deep breath through his nose, to smell my young lust in the satin crotch.

“Huh, yeah. They’re the nicest ones you’ve got.”

“You know that girl, that high school girl that used to ride my buss, when she was in six grade?”

“Yeah, what’s her name?”

I shook my head, “I’m not telling.”

“The one with the boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” the hat got hot, with the veil, so I took that off first. “She broke up with him, but then she got another boyfriend, and this one didn’t just finger fuck her. He kissed, and licked her real good between her legs, until she got an orgasm.”

Now, the dress was getting hot, because it was Taffeta. So I got up, and turned around. “You want to help me with this?”

“You want me to go down, and eat your pussy?”

“Huh! Yeah.” Believe it or not, that was the first time he ever talked dirty to me, that I remember. He unzipped the back of my dress with one hand, but the other went right up between my legs, and goosed my crotch through the sexy underwear.

I didn’t tell her that. My mom, when I asked her to buy me some. I just said “Pretty panties, like these,” but she couldn’t find crotchless ones in my size, because they don’t make them for 11 year olds.

“Now, you’re the sixth grader.” He kissed my neck, and smelled my ear? “SNH!” Real loud, and I wondered if he could smell my ear wax. I just cleaned out my crotch, and my butt, so I wasn’t too smelly, and put on clean underwear, to be nice and sexy for my brother.

My big brother, rubbing his boner against my back through the dress, then spreading it wide open, so it slid down my shoulders, and I could feel it on my bare back.

“Huh, yeah. My friends won’t believe this!” I turned around. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t tell them it was you. In fact, they think I’m going out with an 8th grader.”

“Yeah,” he kissed me, and suck his arm down the front of the dress. To feel my underwear, and stick his thumb in the front. His knuckle brushed the fresh shaved bulge of my mons veneris, but I knew him, all too well.

He’s my brother, and a pedophile. It wasn’t just me, I caught him talking to my cousins, and helping them climb trees, after church. Like any family that’s big enough, you’ve got at least 1 tomboy that likes climbing trees, trucks and stuff instead of dolls, doilies, and tea sets. She wore pants, most of the time, but of course being a good Christian girl. She had to wear a uniform to school, and Sunday dresses to church. So, he could feel her up under it, helping her climb trees in the church yard.

He wasn’t a good Christian boy, I guess he could have become a priest. If he liked good Christian boys, instead of innocent Catholic school-girls in his family, but that’s what it was all about for him. I guess it’s just as bad as being gay, but they wouldn’t let us burn in hell together, because that wouldn’t be punishment enough for our sin.

Incest, preferably me. His little sister, but also maybe a little younger. Like my tomboy cousin, who was about the same age as I was. When he started helping me climb up on the roof, to molest me. Not up on the roof, we only made out up there once, and he kept his hands to himself, but on the way up.

He somehow knew that, when you’re scared, and busy climbing, or just doing it because it’s fun, and she only wore pants all those years to protect her legs from the bark. You’re too distracted to pay attention to where his hands are going, and what they’re doing. So, that’s how he molested us without us even knowing, until he moved onto bigger, and better things with me.

Like the Kama Sutra, but it’s funny how I flash back now. When I’m having sex, or playing with myself. I know most girls, and even women like stories to read, or use their imaginations to get in the mood, but not me. Maybe it’s because Danny peeped on me, and molested me since before I knew what was happening. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t like that, so it was just Danny, until I found out how other boys act when they like you, or lust after you.

His thumb knuckle just barely brushed my hot swollen flesh in my best panties, before he pushed them down. Got his fingers in there, and split me open. With his pointer, and ring finger, so his middle finger could feel back, to the hole. My virgin hole.

“You’re not wet?”

“Not yet, but I’m hot, so let me take all this taffeta off. Huh!” I fell back, and pulled it down, so I could slip it up my legs, and kick it off.

“Taffeta?”

“Yeah, the stuff that dress is made of. You wouldn’t believe how hot it gets, when you wear it too long.

“Huh, you’re hot in here.” He grabbed the sides of my panties.

“Yeah, so why don’t you pull them off, so you can get to work.” I pointed down, “And make me wet.”

So, he got my undies off, and sure enough, he stopped to sniff them. Then, he looked down, and just stared between my legs, for quite a while.

“Danny!” I pointed down, so he blinked, and shook his head.

“Uh sorry.” He backed off on the bed, and I scooted up to the pillows to get comfortable. He unsnapped his pants, but he just stuffed my panties in my underwear, before he got down, and sniffed my crotch.

“Don’t worry, it’s clean.”

“You shaved, too.”

“Yeah, I know. So you gonna beat around the bush until mom, and dad get home?” Finally, I grabbed his head, and pulled him face first between my legs.

“Uh, huh!” He kissed me deeply, then I felt his tongue wiggle down to the hole. I guess he believed all the stories, only in men’s magazines, instead of the raunchy romance you had to go get at the pubic library, because they don’t have them at the school library, of course.

We all laughed, especially about all the creative words they came up with for the body parts. My friends and I, we graduated from saying “Wiener,” and giggling to dick, cock, dipstick, and boy bat, and giggling. Meanwhile for some reason, the adult authors of housewife erotica regressed to love tunnel, manhood, and other stuff. I guess because they watch their language around the kids?

Spell out S.E.X. because they obviously forgot about teaching us our ABCs, and figured we’re too stupid to know what that spells. Maybe it’s just for Catholic mommies? You know, because they seem to think that all this is the kind of stuff you’ll learn on your wedding night, from your husband. If you’re a good girl, and don’t let any boys see your panties so they’re not overcome with lust, and kidnap you to rape you, and dump your body in a shallow grave so you don’t tell anyone.

“Huh?” So anyways, they always seem to think that young girls, or even grown women start dripping wet, and juicy right away, with as little foreplay as a kiss. Well, let me tell you something, I was only 11, and barely started sprouting pubes. So, I couldn’t get that wet on my own, no matter how long I tried, so I had to spit in my hand, and suck my fingers. Maybe they just want to move right into the action, so it’s quicker if she’s already loose, and juicy. I don’t know, but I sure knew by then that there was a huge difference between the way it happens in fantasies, and the way it really happens, for real.

“Huh!” Boys don’t have 6 inch boners, most of them. Especially ones as young as 14, like my brother. Which is good, because if he did then he’d have to lick out, and finger my butthole a lot longer before it was ready to take something as big as they brag about, in the stories.

“Oh, sorry.” He looked up, and grinned. “It slipped.”

“Uh, don’t give me that bullshit, if you want to kiss my ass, go on and kiss it.”

Instead, he stuck his pinky in his mouth, and pulled it out, with a loud wet noise. “Smuip, well I was thinking. If you’re saving yourself until you get married for real, you can’t get pregnant back here.” He touched it, so I put my feet up on his shoulders. So, he could get at it better.

“Huh, kiss it some more first. Huh, stick your tongue in, like before only in my butthole, huh!” I squirmed, but he held on, and with his nose out of the way. “asshole,” I liked to talk dirty, even though he still seemed to like talking around it, instead of calling an asshole an asshole.

I could feel him breathing on my sex, and hear him sniffing loudly, but I could also reach the top. If he ever even heard of a clitoris, he didn’t bother looking for it. I knew where mine was, but it was still a little too tiny to touch. So, I’m a little glad that he didn’t just dig around for it with his tongue. Even though I wondered if it was soft enough, and wet enough, but after he checked my cherry, he kept licking down, instead of up.

So, I felt my fresh shaved bulge, and dug my fingertips in to rub it hard, knowing that made my lips rub the hood. Which rubbed my clit, but not so hard that it felt like striking sparks off a lighter pushing down the spring hard enough to turn it against the flint. “Uh, huh! Uh, I think, I’m almost ready. Try your pinky again, but not so hard. Huh!” I clenched up, and tried to relax. “Just rub it in, on the outside until it loosens up.”

I’m going to skip a whole lot of that stuff, because we went on like that for quite a while before he even wiggled his pinky in, but I was amazed that he even had any interest in sodomy at all. Because that was gay, or at least the sort of thing that gay men did. To hear the boys talk about it. His friends, mostly freshmen now, but some of them had little brothers tag along, so they could pass down their wisdom. Just like 6 grade girls telling 4th graders that only sluts, and whores shave their pubes, because of crabs.

I didn’t shave mine because of crabs, I shaved mine for my brother, Danny. Because I knew him, he was my brother, and he’d been prepping me for incest sex more than long enough to know exactly what he liked. Be exactly the kind of little sister he wanted to fuck. Young, and innocent, but also horny. So horny, and yet naive enough not to know what he was doing. So he could sneak peeks, and molest me helping me climb up the fence, instead of getting the ladder out, like dad showed him the first time we got up on the roof.

So stupid and ignorant that he could molest me without even knowing, but come on. Yeah, I was that young, and innocent once, but we don’t stay that way, forever. You can only get away with that for so long, before we start to wonder, and maybe learn from other people. Like older girls. We start to think, girls can actually think, eventually.

“Huh!” He couldn’t take it any more, and without even noticing, he must’ve gotten 2 fingers up my butt, so he could pull them out. Wipe them off on the front of his pants, and rip the zipper open. Pull his underwear down, so mine fell out. Pink lacy satin, then his 4 inches of pink steel.

“Careful, uh!” He poked me hard, and thank god he missed! I crossed my leg over, and scooted to the side of the bed to stand up. “Why don’t you lay down, and take your pants off. Huh, let me do it, okay?”

“Yeah,” but before that, I wanted him. I wanted it inside me, so bad that I didn’t even care that we’re going to the next hole down. I kinda wanted to give him my cherry, and just avoid the whole question, somehow. When I got married, and something turned up missing, because we didn’t even get enough sex-ed in Catholic school to know that it wasn’t a fucking freshness seal.

[Do not marry if tampered with.] You could still get an annulment, on the grounds of broken vows, if you found out that it was already broken. Virginity is actually that big of a deal, and I know I sound like a liberal feminist Social Justice dyke, but just because they use these as talking points, doesn’t mean that there’s not a little bit of truth before they twist it around to suit their biased agendas.

“Huh!” Well, I’m not. Some hairy flannel boxer shorts lesbo. So, I took a break to suck his dick, because I saw it there. I heard about blow jobs, and I always wondered what that tasted like. Also, fooling around in the cafeteria on hot-dog day, or with half a banana just to get dirty giggles out of my friends, but if I wanted fur burger, I had plenty of friends to get some from. If any of them swung that way but honestly, we never asked. They sure didn’t lick the lettuce, and shredded cheese out seductively on Taco Tuesdays.

Boys do that shit, wave their dicks in each other’s faces just to call them fags, but not none of my friends. I don’t know if there are girls, that tickle you, hold you down, and sit on your faces to call you lezzy or not. I’ve heard stories, but you know, most stories are mostly untrue. People exaggerate, and leave out the boring parts to make the story better. Honestly, I hate it, because I like the truth better than being lied to.

So, I was lied to, my whole entire life. I didn’t even know that, there was a big gaping tear down the middle of my hymen, because I was taught to expect a solid unbroken skin, and any perforation in it was grounds to annul your marriage. Discard you as a slut, even if it tore from riding a bicycle, or was perforated from the start. Even if you’re raped, it’s your fault, and not whoever it was that made you do it.

So, I wasn’t raped. My brother, he was subtle about it, and tricked me into playing along, but it took a long long time for me to squirm, and wiggle it enough to finally slip inside me. Up my ass, like disoriented turd, but I’d taken bigger dumps than that, and then he made that face.

“No!” I slapped him, “Don’t you dare!”

“Up phf.” He bit his lip, but it was too late. “Phuh huh! I’m sorry.” But he went soft, shriveled up, and slowly crawled back out.

“Huh!” I just rolled over, and tried to hold him. His arm, when he got up, but he pulled it away, and left. Me there, still horny, naked, and unsatisfied, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. He didn’t even pick up his clothes, so when I caught my breath. I picked them up, and took them to the bathroom. Dropped them in the hamper, then sat down to spread open my butt cheeks, and squeeze out his load of sperm.

“Huh, uh!” I even gagged a little, when I wiped, and felt how slimy it was. Even though he had his mouth there, and tried as well as he could to stick his tongue all the way up my butt. I even got a little on my thumb, the first time I gave him a hand job, and I had it in my mouth, not even 5 minutes ago.

“Huh,” I guessed. I don’t know, but I instantly regretted not sucking, until he spent in my mouth, I was so horny to get it inside the other end, and I knew I was burning in hell for this. Unless I confessed, and begged forgiveness, but how would that go?

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession, so there’s a lot, um. Let’s see, when I was eleven, I pretended to marry my big brother. So, he’d take me in my mom, and dad’s room, made him perform oral sex on me, kiss my ass, then put it in my mouth, before I climbed up to straddle him, performed sodomy on him, and then milked his wad up my deepest dirtiest hole.”

“Huh!” I felt dirty, so I flushed the evidence down the toilet, took a shower, and enemaed, before I started crying. So, I can’t say that I was raped, exactly. I sure acted like a girl that was raped, and it would have been easier to shift the blame. Confess to that so it was all his fault, but I was a willing victim at that point.

Yeah, still a victim of incest, but that doesn’t make it any less sinful on my part. It didn’t stop us from doing it again, and again after that, but that first time. I wasn’t used to the shame, guilt, regret, and dirty feeling that’s really a turn-on going in, but eventually I got over feeling bad about it afterwards.

It wasn’t until I started taking Latin that I found out what Catholic ment: Everything, or “Universal,” so the Catholic church is supposed to be the Universal church for anyone.

I laughed out loud in class, so the teacher asked me what was so funny, and I told the joke: “I catholic means universal, than Catholic Guild means feeling guilty about everything?” We all laughed.

So, I’m burning in hell. I might as well enjoy life, as much as I can before I die. It would be a waste not to at this point, my soul is already sold by now.

I might as well get all the pleasures of the flesh for it. Well, except the gay ones, ew. I don’t even want any of that disgusting lesbo stuff.

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