Fated

As Eric leaned back on the futon, I knelt between his legs, enjoying him with my hands and my mouth, using my tongue and my heart to demonstrate my love for him. With my eyes closed, I could better feel his unique texture, I could better taste the clear desire emerging from deep within him, I could better smell his strong musk, and I could better hear his deepening breathing and knew that he was close to feeding me his illicit love.

My body and my hair were still damp from my mid-afternoon swim in the apartment complex's pool, but the crotch of my bikini bottom was wet. I whimpered around the thick erection in my mouth, imagining that very same manhood penetrating my body elsewhere.

But I did not want either of us to reach orgasm, not yet. With a gentle kiss to his soft tip, I opened my eyes at last and looked up into my big brother's face, smiling with delight as his eyes slowly opened and his hand reached forward to stroke my hair. The love in his touch was definitely genuine, and the lust pulsing within my closed hand was definitely heartfelt.

Slowly and carefully, my knees protesting a little after having spent so long between his thighs, I rose, practically climbing up my big brother as if he was a tree, his erection just another prominent branch adding to his majestic beauty. And, just like with any sturdy tree when I was a young tomboy, I sat upon him, this time with the branch nestled within me, filling me wonderfully.

I hugged him close, my face pressed into his neck, my breasts pressed against him. My hips rocked gently of their own accord, yet neither of us seemed to mind.

Across the wall, I could hear a neighbor beginning to practice scales on the electric guitar he had bought earlier in the week. From overhead came the sound of a low-flying helicopter, unusual for the neighborhood and signaling that perhaps a life flight was returning to the hospital a few blocks away. A pair of people were talking loudly and animatedly in Spanish as they headed either to or from the parking lot. From one of the apartments across the walkway from our front door, a dog barked several times. Even with our windows closed, I could faintly smell meat being barbecued on a grill. The A/C kicked on again, its clicking sound prominent and unmistakable as its motor revved up again and cooler air began to refill the apartment, the motor's sound drowning out the faint call of a bird in a nearby tree. A car horn sounded in the parking lot, and someone yelled a profanity in response.

Such mundane events seemed almost obscene, like intrusions on the tender joining I was sharing with my big brother. As he stroked the back of my hair, I kissed his neck and flexed around him once again, anchoring myself to him, anchoring him deep within me, wishing I could draw even more of him inside me, wishing I could lock him inside my heart.

Yet for some reason, the mundane sounds of everyday life kept drawing me away from the moment. While I would climb trees when I was younger to get away from things for a bit, I was able at that time to enjoy the mundane things in life while also feeling somewhat detached from it all. At this moment, however, the mundane things were reminders of society, a society which would never approve of the illicit love being felt within these walls. They were reminders of being ostracized, of being forced into hiding, of being eschewed by everyone – by our neighbors and our friends and my classmates and his colleagues. and even by the rest of our family.

It became too much, and I began to cry. My big brother held me close, his erection fading inside me as his attention turned from intimacy to concern. He kissed the tears from my cheeks and rocked me gently, not unlike his care for me in our younger, always-chaste days together. Once again, he was the rock of my life, helping me through a moment of distress.

And I again pictured myself kneeling before him a few minutes earlier, feeling him twitching in my mouth as I brushed a fingernail across a testicle and laved his erection with my tongue. That image came and went, fading into and out of the view of my mind's eye.

"We need to get away," Eric finally said, his voice breaking through the sound of my soft sobs. "July 4 Weekend is coming up, so that's a perfect time to go somewhere, someplace secluded, just you and me, alone together where no one will disturb us."

He understood. He always understood. In some ways, I wonder if my big brother was actually a fraternal twin who just happened to be born six years earlier than me, if while in the womb he suggested that I remain inside our mother for a while so that he could go and scout out the outside world to better guide me and assist me once I was born. His ability to understand me and know what was inside my head was uncanny, reminding me of what I had read about twins and what I had witnessed from the identical twin girls I had known in high school.

I felt a bit ashamed as I rose from his lap and felt his manhood slip out of my body. My tears had slowed, and I was thankful that Eric understood why I was distressed, but I felt terrible for my mind having ruined a wonderful moment of intimacy. But as I turned to leave the living room, he seized my hand to stop me. Standing, he gazed into my eyes and whispered:

"I'll always love you, no matter what the world might think of that."

Especially since my big brother rarely ever used the word "love," I was deeply moved, and leaned into him as he held me. My tears redoubled, but at least they were tears of joy.