Hello! I got smart (finally) and asked one of your listed editors to proof this first. Hope it's satisfactory, I would love to see it published. Thank you for all your good work on this excellent site. *kisses*
My Brother Teaches me Where Babies Come From
When I asked my brother THE question, the answer he gave affected me profoundly. I confess to having long had daydreams about my brother and me. I'm telling this to you, the male reader, as you listen:
* I take your hand and hold it, "Ummm, are you sure you want to hear this? I mean...we're just talking here, right?
*You squeeze my hand tight and take it to your burgeoning member. "Yeah, tell me."
I inhale. 'This is difficult,' I say to myself. To you I say, "Hold onto me and I'll get through it."
"Tell me about it", you say, "And then we'll trade."
I exhale slowly. "Trade sounds good."
The first thing for you to know, is I will NOT make anything up. Will give it to you straight. I know this scenario damn well by now, honed by years of masturbation.
*I start the recitation again, sighing. "I was 18 when I asked my brother where babies came from. Far too old not to know already, I realize, but I was home-schooled, no t.v., no movies, our family was very religious. They kept us kids far too sheltered, my brother couldn't take it, moved away at 16. He moved back when I had just turned 18, he was 20. I asked him about baby-making because I trusted him and I never knew a thing about the subject.
He told me to meet him at the neighborhood tree fort at midnight where we could have time and space to talk about it in private, since mom would be mad if him if she overheard us anywhere else.
I had no idea why the treehouse was the only place for a private discussion but I trusted him and figured, what the heck? So I sneaked out of the house at the witching hour and climbed the ladder up through the lower tree limbs to the sturdy fort. It had four walls, a thick reinforced floor, a window you could see the moon through and a mattress in the corner somebody had hauled up on their back who knows when. Right now it was quiet in there and pitch dark.
When I got to the top of the ladder I stuck my head up through the open trap door and looked, listened. Nothing, so I went on up inside the fort.
A flashlight came on and then I saw my brother sitting on the thin mattress, he was wearing only shadows, smiling. I was a little weirded out, my god, he was naked, but I still trusted him, needed my lesson and maybe it had to include anatomy identification. He beckoned me over and I crawled to where he was since the ceiling was low.
He took me in his arms, his skin was cold against my palms flat on his broad, slightly furred chest. He stripped my clothes off, talking quietly all the while, gentling me by telling me it was okay and to trust him and I did. 'Always have,' I was thinking, 'always will.' My handsome and adoring big brother. Defender in times of peril, educator on so many other things about life our 'rents never divulged.
He looked so strong, planes of his body streamlined in the flashlight's glow. There was a wolf moon out that night; the year before he'd sneaked a phone call to me, gazed up at the full wolf moon from the sidewalk phone booth from which he placed the call, taught me that each month's full moon has a name and what the meanings were. Ever since THIS night was over, every time I see the ghostly galleon of a full moon riding the sky, I think of this particular night when he took my breath from me and gave me the ultimate education.
He wore his hair long, it hung down his back in a loose ponytail. Later I'd take it out for him, toss the elastic on the dresser, pull his soft hair through my fingers and spread it on the pillow entwined with my own longer hair. But tonight he was the one deciding what I was doing, he was directing the dance.
I didn't know enough to do anything but stare at him with wide scared eyes, willing him with my silent fear to answer my question about where babies came from, let us put our clothes back on and go into the house where things were normal and no fear lived. Forgive me for asking the question, let me go on in my ignorance till a mysterious wedding night my parents would plan.
His eyes were soft and deep. Blue, like mine. Hair color similar, so much about us was the same. We laughed at the same jokes, championed each other at any opportunity, worshipped our sameness, our bond in the family. But just now I was all wrapped up in our differences. He was hard where I was soft. All of him was hard.
The part between his legs moved and I looked down, eyes drawn to the motion. He saw me looking as he finished unbuttoning my long sleeved shirt and tugged it off my arms. My looking and his noticing was making his male part rise up high, almost touching his stomach.
I lifted my eyes from his privates to his shadowed blue eyes and smiled, fascinated by the mechanism he appeared to have full control of. Magic, to make a part of him do that, like that.
He rose to his knees, urging me to do the same by putting both his hands under my armpits. When I was on my knees he slid my elastic waisted skirt down my hips, his hands skating against my belly and hip as the garment went down to my thighs. His hand was warm under my knee though his chest had felt cold before. The hand there lifted my knee up enough to slide the skirt down and off one leg and foot. I sat back down and slid to one hip so he could take the skirt the rest of the way off of me.
Clad in just my white cotton panties, I was all of a sudden worried about somebody coming up and finding us naked. I told him so.
He said he had it all covered, nobody would find us. Nobody would bother us and that I was not to worry. He said that mom and dad had gone out to an all night congregational and he told them that I was going to spend the night with my friend Becky (his best friend's sister). He had set it up so they would cover for us if anybody called. Still anxious but no longer worried about being embarrassed or caught barely clothed, I settled down some, waited almost naked, shivering in mingled cold and indecision.
He slid down to lay on his side on the mattress, tugging my arm down so I would lay down next to him. Smiling into my eyes as I lay facing him, my brother stroked his hand slowly up and down my arm, shoulder to elbow. He bent over me and slid his fingertips inside the waistband of my panties at both of my hips, warm hands stripping the last piece of material from my bottom, down my legs and off of my feet. He murmured little approving sounds as his hands ran down my legs, it sounded like "so nice" but my heart beat so loud in my ears I couldn't be sure.
He slid on top of me, tucking me underneath him on the mattress. He put one knee between mine, laid atop me, but kept his weight on his bent arms. He took one hand between my legs and began to circle lightly, not entering the lips, just touching the outside, soothing circles going round and round barely touching my body down where before only my hand had ever touched before, and then only with a soapy washcloth.
I was scared, never experiencing electric touches like that, but I lay quietly. When he finally spread his fingers, parted the folds of my femininity, I could feel a thick wetness like warm pudding between my thighs where his hand had been playing. He ran one long finger down along my slit and put the tip of his large finger into me and I bucked away, trying to get away from it, from the unfamiliarity of it. He told me it was alright, it was natural, it was what I wanted. Didn't I want to know where babies come from?
