Introduction
In chapters 1 through 4, I told you the story of Christmas Eve 2013, during which my brother and I were unexpectedly left alone so our parents could travel to Ontario to deal with our grandmother's stroke. Feeling lonely and nostalgic, Michael and I invaded dad's liquor cabinet.
The alcohol only served to augment my feeling of loneliness, making me long for some type of human contact. We watched classic Christmas movies together. And while I was innocently massaging my brother's shoulders, and Michael was massaging my feet, the touching gradually moved from innocent to intimate.
We explored each other, petted, necked, and masturbated each other to amazing orgasms. Knowing that we had the house to ourselves, we decided to wash the semen and smell of sex from our bodies in our parents' large Jacuzzi tub.
While we were cuddling and relaxing in our parents tub, Michael and I were startled from our bliss when we heard the garage door opener activate. Our parents came home unexpectedly!
Through a remarkable sequence of events, Michael and I extricated ourselves from this 'situation' and our parents were unaware of our intimacies.
This remarkable evening started a period of intimacy and sexual discovery between my brother and me that I will always cherish.
For the next two weeks, Michael and I enjoyed each other, explored each other, and pleasured each other. We enjoyed everything except intercourse. Something stopped both of us from taking that final step. Michael never really pushed it, and neither did I.
Michael and I had developed a deep emotional and physical connection over Christmas vacation. As mid-January approached, I got increasingly anxious about leaving for the university. I did not know if I could force myself to end the relationship with Michael.
I contemplated staying at home and attending the local junior college with him for the spring semester. I thought about Michael and I going to classes together, driving to the local campus together, sharing lunches together, and sharing a bed together at night. It was intoxicating to fantasize about such an arrangement.
But when the day finally arrived, I knew I had to go away. I knew I had to return to the university. I could not abandon my college plans. As painful as it was, I knew what I had to do. I had to return to school.
And so I left Michael and the pleasure of his touch and the comfort of his embrace a little over two months ago.
Mid-term week (at the university):
Startled, I awakened from a deep sleep. Momentarily, I was confused and aroused. My nipples were hard, my breasts were heaving and my vagina was leaking as I tried to comprehend what had just occurred.
Slowly, from the depths of slumber I began to become aware. As I stirred to consciousness, I realized it happened again; I had experienced another sexually charged dream. The dream was almost scary in its realism and vivid details. It felt so very real. My slumber induced climax that had awakened me, just as it had so many times over the past year.
My heart pounded and my breath was labored.
I looked at the digital clock and could see it was 3:19 a.m. My mind raced about the vivid dream. I tried to purge my thoughts and return to sleep for several more hours. But it was no use. My mind was running a thousand different directions now.
You may think that this is a very fortunate sequence of events. You are probably thinking, 'that lucky girl'. I mean who wouldn't want to have regular, vividly real sexual dreams that triggered an orgasm. But I found them disturbing; very disturbing.
I knew from my high school health classes that teenage boys regularly experienced wet dreams or nocturnal emissions. But I had never really heard of any other women having 'wet dreams', but I promise you, since Christmas, I have them with amazing regularity; perhaps once a week for the past two months.
Yes, I regularly have sexually explicit dreams in which my twin brother and I are the only participants.
I always awaken with panic and guilt whenever I have one of my vividly real incestuous dreams that have my brother and me engaging in the most intimate and inappropriate activities.
As I lay in bed, my head spinning, I could feel my erect clitoris pulsing distinctly and my vaginal secretions slowly seeping out of me, making my thighs and bottom damp from my juices. I felt the red burning blush of embarrassment as I once again am forced to accept that I cannot stop these wick dreams no matter how I try. And every time I have this dream, I respond the same way. I become aroused, and I almost always climax in my sleep before bolting awake. And then, awakened in my aroused state, I am overwhelmed with shame and guilt.
I would like to tell you I do not know the origin of these terribly taboo dreams. I would like to claim that I had no idea why my subconscious would repeatedly take me to this arousing yet forbidden place. But that would be a lie. I do know the deeply disturbing origin of these thoughts and dreams. Two months ago, my brother and I became 'familiar' with each other; by society's standards, far too familiar with each other.
The timing of this wet dream was also disturbing. Tomorrow, (Friday), I am scheduled to fly home for spring break. This will be my first visit home since returning to college back in January. I will see my younger brother tomorrow. I was excited and nervous about my return home.
I return home - Friday:
I completed my last mid-term exam slightly before 3:00 p.m. I returned to my dorm, packed, and then caught a ride to the airport.
I ate a chicken Caesar salad at the airport while I waited for my flight.
The Air Canada flight departed at 8:15 p.m., Vancouver time. An hour and a half later, we touched down in Calgary. During the hour and half flight my mind raced with the multitude of possibilities that lay in front of me.
Exactly one week ago I had taken a very be step; I visited the clinic on campus and obtained a prescription to birth control pills. I realized as I was doing this that I was preparing to allow my brother to deflower me. I was getting the protection necessary to allow Michael to enter me, and ejaculate inside me; to rupture my hymen. I was very nervous and excited about allowing my brother to capture my virginity.
I was also feeling scared and guilty. If I went through with this, if I let Michael enter my womanhood, we would move past the petting and exploration that we enjoyed to becoming 'lovers' in every sense of the word.
Would we live to regret this? Was society correct? Would this forever scar each of us emotionally?
On an objective and intellectual level, I knew that someday we would have to move on. Michael and I could not be a couple. Society would not permit it. We would always be forced to keep our relationship and our intimacies secret. We could not live as man and wife, we could not hold hands walking down the street, or contemplate having children. These were activities we would have to reserve for other people, not each other.
As the plane hummed along at 40,000 feet, I knew that allowing Michael and my relationship to progress to the point that we were having actual intercourse would make the eventual cessation of our intimacies even more painful and difficult.
Nonetheless, I knew that I wanted my brother to 'be the one' who took me first. I wanted his semen inside me. I wanted him to rupture my hymen. And most of all, I wanted to be the first woman he did these things with. I wanted him to remember that I was his first for the rest of his life.
I know it is warped, perverse and sick, but I wanted to know that for the rest of our lives, at every family function that Michael and I attended with our spouses and our children, we would both think about the intimate deep secret we shared; that he and I lost our virginities to each other during the winter break of 2013.
Part of me was angry. I was angry at the strict rules that society had imposed upon us. I was angry that because of these mores, I could never have what I really wanted, which was to completely belong to my brother: to allow him to impregnate me and to carry and raise his child as his wife. I wanted to nurse our children while my brother held me in his arms.
No, that was not possible. I could never have those things. So I would have to settle for a brief period of intimacy during which my brother and I would share a fantasy relationship, and each other, and whose memory would last me the rest of my life.
As the Air Canada flight began its decent, I wondered if Michael felt similarly towards me? Would Michael and I resume where we left off? Would my brother still want and need me?
What if he had become involved with someone else? That thought suddenly frightened me. After deciding to 'go on the pill' so that I could safely accept my brother's sperm into my womb, I did not think I could handle rejection. If Michael wanted to maintain a normal and more socially acceptable relationship now, I would be absolutely devastated. I would be forced to accept his decision, but I would be crushed.
As the plane touched down, I realized I was scared and aroused by these thoughts. I blushed as I realized that the gusset of my panties was very damp as I thought about my brother. What would the man sitting next to me think if he knew that my vagina was lubricated and leaking into my underwear as I fantasized about fucking my younger brother? Would he be horrified? Aroused? Or perhaps he would be both?
My parents were waiting at baggage claim. I was confused, and disappointed, Michael was not there.
I hugged them. We said our greetings. I asked, "Where is Michael?"
"Oh, he is out with his buddies tonight. I think they are at a hockey game. He said he would see you when he got home tonight," my dad answered nonchalantly.
I tried not to let me disappointment show, but I was hurt, deeply hurt. How could he decide to go to a hockey game rather than meeting me at the airport after we had been apart for more than two months? I felt a sudden ache in my heart. Was this a sign that all my feelings and fantasies were not shared by my brother? Had he already moved on? Did not the closeness we shared mean anything to him?
I felt empty and very alone. I tried not to show it, but this hurt.
Mom noticed. On the way home she remarked, "Kelsey, you are awful quiet. Is everything alright?"
I answered quite honestly, "Yeah, mom, I'm fine. I am just exhausted. I was up most of last night studying for mid-terms. I have not been sleeping well. I am just tired."
We arrived at the house around 10:30 p.m. Michael was still not home. Feeling somewhat abandoned, I told my parents that I was tired, which I actually was, and made my excuses to retire early. I was in bed by 11:00 p.m.
