[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Even after we got caught, it was like since my worst fears hadn't come true, worrying about getting caught again had less significance to it. Our mother scolded the shit out of me and afterward, we picked up right where we'd left off and as if we never got caught. Mom was right: I knew better. I was the oldest and expected to set an example and all that. She said there was no reason or excuse for what I got caught doing... and she was wrong about that but, yeah, also right about it. What I couldn't say to her that the reason why we were doing such an unholy thing was simple: We liked doing it to each other; it doesn't get any simpler than that. I loved it when we blew each other and filled each other's mouth with cum. I loved feeling his dick pumping spunk into my ass and just as much as he loved feeling me filling his ass with it. He said to me one night, as I was cumming in him, "Damn... that never stops feeling good..." And he was right - it didn't even when my thoughts said that it shouldn't feel good. "Do you ever feel guilty?" I asked him one time. "Yeah... and not really," he had replied with a shrug. "Do you?" "Yeah... and not really," I said, echoing his response and the truth inside me was very real. I loved having sex with him even though we couldn't stand each other. We both looked forward to it and I had to face a truth that said no matter how mad we got or how long it was between seeing each other, if he wanted to do it, I wasn't going to say no. I couldn't and because I knew we'd already put ourselves in jeopardy having sex so to not do it kinda didn't make any sense, that and he was very, very good at having sex with me. So responsive. Still so very excited about us doing it. We were the best at doing it to each other and even said so, not that other guys were slouches and I had realized that it was our brotherly connection that put the sex we'd have over the top for each other.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I'd be dick-deep in him and it was so damned good... and thinking "what if" and visions of brutal beatings flashing through my mind. Or I'd be sucking him and waiting for him to cum in my mouth with great expectation while being fully aware of every little sound around us and no matter where we were. He'd be dick-deep in my ass, driving his dick into me and it was so relaxing but I'd also be tense because I was listening to every sound and so much that a barking dog would make me flinch or freeze up. And as we got older and got into fighting each other and, sometimes, over dumb shit, it didn't make sense that we were still having sex when, maybe a few minutes before, I'd just punched him in the face as hard as I dared to. I couldn't understand how our "hatred" for each other never carried over to us having sex, like the one thing had nothing to do with the other... and I guess it really didn't. Sometimes we'd get done with each other and go right back to fighting; one time, he had just nutted in me, pulled out and when I turned to look at him, he punched me dead in the face and said, "You didn't think I forgot, did you?" He hadn't... and neither had I. What confused me even more is that while he could fight, he could never get the best of me; I would have a field day kicking his ass but with restraint because I had the skills to do him great harm... or to kill him. And I think, as we had sex with each other, that this was some really fucked up shit to be so mad at each other one moment and to be all into screwing and sucking each other silly the next. Even as we grew older and all that, the dynamic didn't change all that much; we'd get mad enough at each other to kill each other - and I'm not joking about that one bit - and after a cool-off moment, get naked and do what we'd always been doing. And it was still very, very good.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Did I think that we should stop before all holy hell broke loose? I did. Even he did. We didn't stop and it was like we couldn't. We tried to and our best effort was we didn't do it for a whole day. And the thing that "bothered" me was the more we did it, the more I liked it. I remember the day I tasted his sperm for the first time. I was actually pissed off because he had shot his stuff for the first time with one of his friends but I got over it. The funny part was that he hadn't told me he was shooting and, of course, I didn't find out until I was sucking his dick and - pow! - I got a mouthful of it! Then he told me when he first did it and who he did it with. So I was mad about it... but I was very happy that he was shooting sperm and in my mind, the circle was now complete. No matter how many other guys I had sex with, doing it with him was just... better and I thought that it was because of the great crime we were committing damned near every day and night. I'd love to say that at some point I just stopped thinking about the wrongness and the trouble - I never really did. One day, he was fucking me and whispered in my ear that he felt bad about us doing it... but he liked us doing it so much he couldn't stop. That made me feel good and bad at the same time because I felt the same way and I couldn't understand why I cared about it and didn't care one bit about how fucked up this thing we were doing was... and I don't know why I thought and felt that way. I had said to him - as his dick was moving in and out of me - "Maybe we should stop." He said, "Yeah, we should." And we didn't. What made it "worse" for me in my thoughts was that I was well and deeply into screwing my sister after learning about that eating pussy thing with her. Obviously, if screwing my brother was bad, screwing her was even worse. Later in life, I'd hear the saying, "If you don't mind, it doesn't matter..." and I didn't mind but I also did mind... and it still didn't matter so much. And speaking of that... My brother didn't like having to share my dick with our sister, that and he was very pissed off that she wouldn't do it with him. Well, they did once... and she told me he couldn't do it right and that he wouldn't eat her pussy. I thought it was funny and thought that it wasn't even funny; this was some very serious shit we'd gotten ourselves into and it all made me do some very serious thinking about what sex was really all about.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=verdana]As we walked home (around the corner, actually), he told me that he was doing it with his friends and had been for a while - explained how he knew to suck my dick and why it was so easy to get my dick into him. I shouldn't have been surprised but I was and all that did was get me to thinking about the trouble that was gonna come my way and more so if my pain-in-the-ass little brother couldn't keep his big mouth shut about what we'd just done. Oddly, it never occurred to me to tell him not to say anything and I can't say it was because I trusted him not to; just never mentioned it. Maybe the trust was somehow implied? Still don't know.[/FONT] [FONT=verdana]To say we did it a lot would be an understatement. After that first time, we pretty much did it every time we had a chance to, easy enough since we were sleeping in the same bed. I was so worried about getting caught and thinking about how really wrong this was that while I enjoyed us doing it, I wasn't really enjoying it; hard to get into something when the slightest sound made you paranoid and meant that you were gonna get caught any moment now.[/FONT] [FONT=verdana]In later years and looking back at this moment, I understood that we had committed ourselves to this heinous act - there was no turning back and more so when I finally got around to not worrying about all of this and having fun doing it to him. While it wasn't all that hard to find a guy who wanted to do it, I had it "good" because I had a little brother who [B]always[/B] wanted to do it and even when I didn't feel like it. His excitement was contagious and I got caught up in it... and I kinda hated it as much as I liked it. It was nice to be lying next to him at night and feel his hard dick pressing against my butt or to be lying next to him, my dick very hard, and I hear him whisper, "Stick it in..." And I knew I was wrong. It wasn't so much guilt as it was knowing what the adults could be overheard talking about this and the very dire consequences if they ever caught their kids having sex with each other.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]We went to the closest "clubhouse" and as we walked there, boy - he was really getting on my nerves being a bundle of very excited energy! I'm still thinking about all the trouble I could get into right along with thinking I had to "teach" him about sex... and imagine my surprise when, once hidden out of sight, he pulled my pants and underwear down and started sucking my dick and like he knew what he was doing! Well, that's because he did know. My thoughts got scrambled; gone were the thoughts of getting in trouble; I was excited and confused so much that when I shot my stuff into his mouth, it took me by surprise. Even as I shot it, I barely thought that having my stuff in his mouth was gonna freak him out (and like it did some of the other guys) but, nope - he made it all disappear with a huge smile on his face. As that haze started to go away, I knew I had really fucked up but now it was too late to "take it back." Even as I laid him down to suck his dick, my mind was a blank... and it bothered me that it was blank. I sucked his 8-year-old cock for a very long time and while he wasn't shooting the stuff yet, I could feel it when his dick shuddered in my mouth and knew he was having that "good feeling." He said, "Stick it in me!" and, again, without any thought about the trouble I'd gotten us into, I used a lot of spit on both of us and with him on his belly, laid on top of him and stuck it in. My dick slid right into him and he didn't complain or even say, "Ow!" He did say, "Oh, yeah - do it to me!" and I did it to him until I shot my stuff into his hiney hole... and it felt good... and even better than when I shot my stuff into any of the other guys. I didn't think about why that was; my next thought was pretty automatic and I told him, as I laid down on my belly, to stick it in me... because that's just the way it was. His cock zipped into me and it felt so good and I knew it would feel even better since he wasn't shooting; he'd fuck me until he got tired or had enough of the good feeling. And as I lay under him, feeling his boner moving in and out of me, I knew I was in serious trouble and my only real thoughts were about not getting caught because I also knew this wouldn't be the last time we did it.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]What do you think about when you know you're doing something you, by rule, have no business doing? CSReef's post on "Brotherly Love" got me thinking about this and a bit more than I normally do - and that's fine because one of the tenets of being bisexual is being able to tell yourself the truth in these things... all of the truth. It was "bad enough" to have gotten introduced to dick; it was "bad enough" that I went off the rails with it with the guys I was growing up with; in this - and as I got older - I was amazed that all of us seemed to discover this about the same time. In a lot of retrospect, maybe I should have known that my brother would get bitten by the dick bug and I really didn't know he had until the day he asked me if we could do it. If doing it with the other guys kept the red alert flags flying in my head, hearing him ask me this [B]really[/B] set them off and my first thought was how much trouble I could get in if we did it and got caught. A few of the fellas had gotten busted in the act and some of them, whew, the beating they got was epic. One guy "disappeared" - his parents packed him up and sent him off to live somewhere else but until we found that out, we thought he was dead. You'd think that having these thoughts would deter us but they didn't; all it did was make us be even more careful. So he asked and I said no. He asked why not and I told him my thoughts about getting caught. Then he said he really wanted to. I said no again. He just wouldn't leave me alone about it and even after I told him that I was gonna beat him up if he didn't. He became the annoying little brother, following me around all over the place and getting on my nerves and after a couple of hours of him bugging me, I caved in and said we can do it. In my head, I was both leery and excited; that voice in my head was screaming at me, telling me that this was very wrong - don't do it, you're gonna get caught and get beat really bad.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]While I knew that some brothers forced the other brother into it - really fucked up - for the most part, if "Sam" didn't mind "Dave" doing it to him and "Dave" was okay with it, well, is there a really a problem? Was it "better" for brothers to learn in this way than to take bigger chances with other guys or that "Sam" and "Dave" doing each other gave them some necessary experience with sex in general? Yeah... I obviously had a reason to give this brother thing a lot of thought. The I-word upsets a lot of people and to the point where I knew of a lot of people who'd just write it off as experimentation and go on like it never happened; I wondered about this and I couldn't tell whether they really just chalked it up to "one of those things" or maybe some inner guilt over it made them categorically deny that it ever happened. I was learning a lot about how a mind can work in these things and it was pretty confusing; you know you and your brother (or sister, or whoever) did the I-thing but then you act as if it didn't happen? What's up with that? Today, I understand it... can't really explain it or if I tried to, I would be writing for months explaining everything I've learned about this. The short version is that it happens. It has always happened. It's happening right now somewhere in the world. It doesn't always happen and, yeah, sometimes, some folks kinda wish that it had and especially those who felt the pull of it but were, understandably, too afraid to answer the call. We are quick to call it a kind of abuse because that's the way we're supposed to think about it. Brother slings his dick on his brother? Well, that had to be forced, right? Sometimes it was... but not always. I've had a lot of male lovers... but none better than my late brother. Indeed, we had had sex two nights before he got killed and it was as enjoyable as it always had been. Even at that age, we didn't have anything to prove to each other; it wasn't about whose dick was bigger (mine was, by the way); none of the stuff I hear guys going on and on about didn't matter to us. Let's get naked and do what we'd done time and time again. Suck each other's dick until we came. Catch our breath. Fuck each other. Clean up and if time allowed, start all over again. Someone asked me if my brother hadn't been killed, would we still have sex with each other... and I think that we probably would have kept right on doing it. Despite time, being older and the animosity we had toward each other, we never really stopped having sex with each other until he lost his life - that tends to grind things to a big time halt, doesn't it? I have no regrets about it whatsoever. No guilt. No shame. I understand what sex "really" is and how it can happen. If he was still alive and willing, I'd blow and fuck him without giving it a second thought and he probably wouldn't either. And while there are those who'd say or think that I'm a really sick son of a bitch - and I used to think I was, to be honest - well, I know some stuff about sex that most people don't want to know and I learned to accept the nature of what we can really be and no matter what the rules say. And I'm not the only one who figured this out and realized that the loopholes continue to exist... And it's only illegal if you get caught. That's the real truth inside the whole truth when brothers have sex with each other. [/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]The real question for me was, "Do you feel bad about any of it?" The truth? I thought I did feel bad about it, only to face the very hard fact that, no - I didn't feel bad about it at all. The rules and shit notwithstanding, I knew this was nature doing what nature intended us to do and the trick, other than not getting caught, was being careful and mindful of the consequences. Over the intervening years, my brother would often show up out of nowhere and I got to understand that he wasn't visiting just to say hi and how are you doing. While he admitted that he was feeding his need for dick with other guys, when he wanted "the best," it was time to pay me a visit. And whenever he did, I'd never turn him down even when, sometimes, what I really wanted to do was break his neck. That we could set aside our differences and have sex meant something to me and, nope, still can't explain what it meant. Now, while all of this was going on, I was learning that brothers having sex with each other was a lot more common that I thought it was; I had met a lot of guys who had their first experience with a brother or a cousin and, yeah, sometimes, their daddy turned them on to the wonders of dick. So highly immoral... yet I was understanding that even the harshest punishments didn't do much to stop the I-word from happening. I understood what all the fuss was about but I thought that we - humanity - was fussing about something that no one could really do anything about. No, it didn't always happen between siblings but, yeah, it also happened and I thought maybe it was because it was supposed to which was probably why it was and still is so highly forbidden even if "Sam" and "Dave" are screwing each other silly and there's no way in hell either of them are gonna get knocked up. [/SIZE][/FONT]
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