Disclaimer: This is fiction. The author does not condone these acts, or any acts of betrayal in any way. I hope that you enjoy this story – but that's all it is, a story.
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I'd known Dylan since we'd been at school. His family moved up when we were both in Year 8 and both of us being 12-year-old natural loners, we bonded almost immediately. We used to hang out by the tennis courts during break and lunch all through the next five years, discussing how much we hated school, our parents and most of all the girls who never looked twice at us. Of course, those who did, we weren't interested in. I guess it's a teenage thing, a subconscious desire to be cool, but the reason that the popular girl is so often stereotyped as a bitch is that kids are cruel and are drawn to cruelty – especially in a pretty package. It's only as we mature that we realise that advertising signs con you and the most beautiful, ivy covered buildings are often decadent and crumbling inside. Hell, when I meet people, they often think that I'm a nice guy. I'll let you make your own judgments.
The one person who was off-limits for our bile-filled rants was Dylan's younger, by two years, sister. Dylan was always protective of Alex, I recall once he ploughed into a group of four or five boys – what our American friends would call "sport jocks" – who were teasing Alex by holding her hands over her head. Sitting with him later in the medical room, whilst the nurse went off to collect more cotton wool to mop up his bloody nose, I asked him why he'd done it.
"Because she's my sister," he said, looking at me like I was a Martian. "What was I meant to do?" I had no answer. I guess being an only child that feeling of sibling solidarity was an alien concept. I got plenty of chances to see it up close, though, watching Dylan and Alex together. When I visited the maelstrom of his house I could see how Alex acted as the solid point that enabled him to lever off the abuse hurled at him by his mother. As for her, she clearly loved and trusted her brother. Some of that rubbed off on me, which I didn't mind one bit. She was cute as a child and as she grew older, she became beautiful. She had long straw-blonde hair, contrasting with Dylan's short, light brown hair, but shared his bright blue eyes. We chatted some times but as she grew prettier I became more and more awkward around her. I would have died before I admitted it to Dylan, but I was developing a huge crush on his sister. To be honest, I've never really lost it. She was the first girl I ever felt that strong, sexual desire for. More than one girlfriend has had to be placated after a Freudian slip in a moment of unguarded passion. As far as I know, Dylan was never aware of how I felt. Nor, for that matter, was Alex.
Life went on and Dylan and I passed our GCSE's and then our A-levels and ended up at the same university, middle-ranking, middle-England and as bland as university can be. Those American films portraying College life as one long beer-infused party seemed like some kind of cruel joke. I guess going to the same place as Dylan was a mistake, we were just as insular as at school. This time however, we both had more of a desire to spread our social wings, as it were. We joined clubs, I a film-shooting club and Dylan a debating society. We also started hanging out with other friends and I, god knows how, found myself a girlfriend. Sara was amazing; gentle, understanding and hot. She used to delight in sex in unusual places – blowjobs at the back of the double-decker bus, frigging her in the cinema, creeping off mid-meal at the local restaurant for a quickie in the toilets. I used to call Dylan up each week and recount these episodes in all the glorious detail. She was my first girlfriend and I just badly needed to tell someone about it all. Somehow it didn't seem quite right to talk to my mum about it. Dylan used to get morose as I was telling him about Sara – I have to admit that I enjoyed this. Sometimes, I'd make up stories so as to have an excuse to phone him. I was suddenly the superior in our previously equal relationship. More than once he'd sigh and tell me he wished he could meet someone like Sara – even the eighteen year-old Alex had a boyfriend now. I'd tell him that he would meet someone eventually – if he ever had, of course, I'd have been gutted.
It was indirectly through Sara that the first seeds were planted. She liked role-play; dressing me up as a policeman, her as a hooker, that sort of thing. I always felt a bit uneasy, as if it wasn't me fucking her anymore, but went along with it partly out of love and partly because, in my inexperience, anything Sara suggested seemed like it was an integral part of a healthy sex life. One night she suggested that we pretended to be brother and sister. I shrugged and said ok, thinking that it would just be another night of dressing up as someone else. As I've said, I was an only child, so it was quite a surprise when I found that, as I stroked my cock in and out of her pussy whilst she told me how bad her 'brother' was for fucking her, I felt an unfamiliar excitement churning in my stomach. The thought of Sara lying on her back, legs wrapped around her brother's back whilst he pumped his seed into her, turned me on like never before. I came long and hard into her, surprising her into her own orgasm.
We played the same role-play a couple of times more but Sara soon got bored of any of our fantasies and was always looking for a new thrill. I tried probing her about her feelings for her brother, but my clumsy attempts only caused arguments about the separation of fantasy and reality. A perfectly reasonable position, my head told me - my cock, however, disagreed. There was still a problem, though. However turned on I was by the thought of incest between brother and sister, the thought of Sara actually fucking someone else was a major turn-off. It was when I found her in bed with a one-night stand two years down the line that I finally drew the line under all the arguments and petty squabbling that had developed a barrier between us. At the time, though, I was still deeply in love, not just lust. No, what I needed was another way to get my kicks. The opportunity that presented itself wasn't exactly planned. I'd not constructed anything more than loose fantasy until that night.
Alex had split up with her boyfriend and had come down for the weekend to visit Dylan. She was pretty upset, very cut up. He'd dumped her – something about needing more space, which really meant he fancied her friend – and she was feeling unattractive and unwanted. Dylan and I did our best to cheer her up took her to a hairdressers who cut her hair to shoulder length and even arranged to head out to a coursemate's party. As Alex was getting ready, Dylan told me to look out for her.
"She's vulnerable at the moment," he said. "I want you to help me look after her."
"No problem." I said.
The party itself was pretty boring – loud music, loud shirts and loud people but Alex seemed to enjoy being amongst the 'grown up students'. She was dancing and getting a lot of attention. A couple of times Dylan or I had to give warning glances to drive away a predatory male who got too close.
"Isn't this fantastic," Alex gushed as Dylan headed off to the kitchen to get us another drink. "everyone is so cool!"
"You're having a good time then?" I laughed.
"Oh yes, I always do with you and Dylan." Alex paused. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure. Fire away."
"It's just that with you and Dylan being so close, I've always thought of you as a kind of half-brother, only you're not my brother, so..." By this time, my trousers were starting to get uncomfortably tight. I tried to concentrate on Alex's words to take my mind off of it. What she said next didn't help.
"Do you think any of these guys would sleep with me?" I choked in amazement.
"I'm sure lots would."
"Oh one would be enough. Trouble is, with Dylan, there's no way he'd let me go off with someone. I like the idea of just, you know, doing it with a stranger..." she trailed off as Dylan came up with our drinks.
"You ok?" he asked, giving me a funny look.
"Yeah." I croaked. "Actually, do you think you could get me a glass of water?"
"Sure." Dylan said amiably and wandered off back to the kitchen.
"I take it you got rid of him for a reason?" Alex asked me.
"Yeah, I mean, yes." I stuttered. "It's just that, well, I wanted you to know that you can use my room." And then, in a sudden flash of inspiration. "Actually, we have a sort of club on campus."
"A club? What do you mean?"
"It's a kind of sex club... what happens is that any girl who wants no-frills, no-questions sex, goes into her room and puts a piece of red clothing in the window. A few minutes, maybe half an hour later, some guy comes up to her room and they, you know. The only condition is that the lights have to be off and there can be no talking. That way it's kept a secret."
