Brotherly Love

Cal felt the urgent need to pee 15 minutes before he reached home, and he willed himself to hold it until then. He had learned at an early age that he had the ability to control his body with his mind, and it had come in quite handy at times. Now, instead of squeezing to keep from releasing the pressure building up in his bladder, he slowly 'talked himself down' until the need no longer dominated his thinking, but just stayed ever present in the back of his mind.

Upon arriving home he walked deliberately into the little two-bedroom home he had shared with his mother and two sisters since his father deserted them 11 years earlier, not rushing but willing his body to wait until the proper time to find relief in release. He shouldn't have drunk that last 32-ounce Pepsi while waiting for his shift to run out.

As he approached the bathroom, he heard the steady beat of the shower, and knew his older sister, Lydia, must be getting ready for a date. As was the custom in the household – which had only one bathroom to be shared by the four adults – he knocked twice on the door and waited for his sister's lilting voice to call out, "It's okay, come on in."

He entered the room to see Lydia's face framed in wet curls sticking out from behind the shower curtain.

"I've got to pee in the worst way," he explained, heading for the commode.

"Help yourself," his sister giggled as she ducked back behind the curtain, "Just don't splash any on me!" He smiled as he stepped to the commode. What a wonderful relationship he, his sisters and their mother had. Body functions were body functions, and carried no sexual connotation whatsoever.

As he finished urinating, he looked down at his penis. It wasn't large or small, just normal. He hadn't been circumcised as a baby so he had to pull back the outer sheath of foreskin each time before urinating so there would be no chance for deposits of the discharge getting under the folds and causing infection. His mother had patiently emphasized that with him as a child, and he had always been careful to pay attention as he grew up. "After all," she had said, "you may want to keep this monster around with you as you grow up and you don't want it to shrivel up and fall off!" It still didn't look like a monster, but he knew that it sometimes tried to control him like one.

He flicked the last few drops of urine off the end of his penis into the bowl, then waited patiently for a couple of seconds until the final 'wave' came, dribbling off the end of his dick into the bowl. He flicked once more and then began to put the 'monster' away.

"Do you always do it that way?" he heard his sister's voice at his elbow, and looked up in surprise to see her watching him from around the end of the shower curtain, a mischievously wicked smile on her face. He knew that smile, and that she was just playing with him.

"Well, we always say in the locker room, 'It don't matter how much you shake and dance, the last few drops are in your pants,'" Cal said, laughing slightly.

"Save that locker room talk for your buddies and get out of my way, I need to dry off," she said, smiling lovingly at him. He moved aside and she slid out of the shower stall, wrapped a towel around her still-wet body and headed for the door. "Come on, let's talk," she said casually and he knew he was in for one of those wonderful sessions when she would leisurely dry off and get dressed in front of him, allowing him to admire her youthful body, unashamedly posing in provocative postures for him on occasion and then laughing as he let his tongue hang out and bugged his eyes.

They had a relationship that even their mother was totally unaware of, which spanned the last four years. Cal thought back over the events of time that had brought him and his now stark-naked sister to this point.

*****************************************

Their father had turned into an abusive drunk by the time their younger sister, Tricia, was born. He did not focus his abuse on the children, though, but on his faithful, loving wife, who tried her best to meet his every need while raising the three children.

Lydia was eight, Cal seven and Tricia two when he decided he no longer wanted them as a family.

Cal and Lydia had come out of their bedroom one morning – all three children shared the same bedroom and double bed, since there was no where else to sleep in the small house – to see their mother crying silently as she tried to glue back together several large pieces of her mother's antique pitcher which lay broken on the table in front of her. She hugged the two children, kissed them and watched them walk out to the bus stop before returning to her heart-breaking task.

The children had lain in bed hugging each other the night before as the angry words erupted from their father's lips, to be answered by the pleading voice of their wonderfully soft, warm and loving mother. Finally there was the sound of things breaking and of their mother's weeping. They looked at each other with eyes filled with despair as they waited for the bus.

That afternoon when they arrived home, their father was filling the family car with personal belongings. Their mother was no where to be seen – she had taken Tricia for a walk to the park to avoid what might have been a violent farewell. Lydia took one look at her father and then went to the children's bedroom, closing the door behind her. Cal just sat on the front porch steps and watched his father with cautious eyes. When the man was finished, he approached the child, trying to be friendly and fatherly.

"I've had enough of this shit," he said, spitting into the grass at his feet. "I'm getting the hell out of here." The boy just watched him, no emotion showing in his carefully guarded eyes. "Maybe someday I'll drop by and show you how to throw that football you got for Christmas." The child still did not reply, either by word or gesture.

The man spat into the grass once more.

"You kids are just like her," he said, turning to walk toward the car. "Gutless. The least you could do is fight," he threw back over his shoulder. The child smiled slightly at the remark. His mother had taught him the year before – when he had entered battle with another child in kindergarten who had tried to bully him – that there is more than one way of fighting. Sometimes silence and indifference were more powerful than physical violence. He did not totally understand all that was involved, but believed inside that he had just won an important battle for his family – for which he was now the 'man of the house.'

As the children grew up, and Lydia began to develop physically, they all worked together one summer to complete a small room in the attic for Cal to use so the two girls could have some degree of 'girl privacy' in their room.

The family was very close and their mother had no sexual hang-ups, so the children grew up accepting each other's body differences, without making it a major issue. Jackie, their mother, had talked with each of them individually about "the birds and the bees," and they had always felt free to bring troubling questions to her when they heard certain things at school.

Cal was accustomed to seeing his mother and sisters in their underwear, although his mother always wore at least a half-slip on the bottom. The girls had always felt free to run around in their panties and, then, when they began to develop, in their panties and bra. He had heard the other boys talk in their special "sex sessions" outside of the listening ears of adults about seeing their mothers, sisters or other members of the opposite sex in their underwear and had wondered what was the big deal. He saw that all the time and it didn't seem to matter to him or them. But he kept these thoughts to himself, grateful for his relationship with his mother and sisters and not wanting to become like the other boys.

As he and Lydia grew older, one of his favorite times with her was when they would come home from junior high – and later, high school – and talk about things while they changed out of their school clothes into their work clothes. Lydia never stripped completely, but watching her strip down to her underwear and then getting dressed again – all the while talking to him about who in her class had a new boyfriend or girlfriend, schoolwork, cheerleading, band, etc. – was a special pleasure for him. He did not analyze why, just enjoyed each moment for itself.

That changed, however, one fall week in his freshman year. Lydia had developed into a very attractive sophomore and was on the cheerleading squad and in the marching band as a twirler.

One school day after a particularly tough football practice, Cal was in the locker room getting dressed after his shower when he heard his sister's name mentioned several lockers away. As he listened, he realized it was one of the seniors, Jack Perkle, a star running back and fairly good linebacker, who was doing the speaking.

"Ain't no sense in taking that Lydia Benton out, she won't do anything, and I don't think it's because she's a virgin, either, I think she is getting poked regularly by that old man she works for down at the grocery store," Perkle said with a sneer in his voice. "Or maybe it's that English teacher, Radley, he seems to get a hard-on every time she gets around him, maybe he is getting into her sweet little whore-ass when she works for him in free period."

Cal saw the sideways glances being thrown his way by other players who could not help but hear the remarks, and decided that more was needed today than just silence and indifference. He pulled his polo shirt over his head and walked slowly toward the older boy's locker, checking out the situation as he did.

Perkle was sitting in his jockey shorts, looking straight at Cal as he approached, a disdainful smirk on his lips. Several of the other older students had gathered around him to get in on the conversation, but moved back some as Cal approached.

Cal was only 5'7" to Perkle's 6"1" and the older boy outweighed him 180 to 125, but Cal had developed a reputation during practices and the first couple of junior varsity games that he had started as strong safety. He had learned the art of hitting hard. Keep your body relaxed until the point of impact. If you were tense at impact, it would jar you as much as it did the one being hit; but if you were relaxed, focusing all of your power at the point of impact and not spread over your whole body, you could deliver a blow that almost entirely transferred all force to the one being hit.

Every person on the team, including Perkle, had been tackled hard by Cal in practice and they notably avoided contact with him whenever they could without drawing the coaches' ire. The coaches themselves had noted the youngster's ability to deliver punishment on the football field and had told him he would probably be moved up to varsity before the end of the season and playoffs – if for no other reason than to give him experience for his last three years of competition.

Despite Perkle's bravado, Cal saw just a hint of uncertainty in the older boy's eye just before he delivered a blow to Perkle's midsection that whooshed all the air out of his lungs and drove him back against his locker. Perkle recovered quickly and went for Cal's face, while the younger boy delivered several more body blows. He was just getting ready to finish the senior off with another one-two to the ribcage when he felt one of the coaches' hands pulling him away. He did not resist, but just stood back, breathing heavily.

Perkle was on his knees leaning over and clutching his midsection, his face distorted in pain – and shame. Cal had a cut above his eye that was bleeding down the side of his face, and his upper lip was broken and bleeding in one corner.

When the head coach got to the scene, he took one look at his star running back and then focused on the slight freshman in front of him.

"That's it, Benton, you're out of here," he said. "We don't allow fighting with your teammates." Cal gave no reply, just shrugged and moved back to his locker where he gathered his uniforms, pads and cleats. He paused briefly at the coaches' office where the three adults were gathered around their running back, concerned looks on their faces. The head coach looked up briefly and caught Cal's eye. He had evidently already heard the story from the other boys and was wondering whether he should rethink his action: Cal have him no opportunity to do so, but just plunked the equipment in the office door and walked away – silent and indifferent.

He would not play football again until his senior year, under a different set of coaches. Then, at 5'10" and 155 pounds, the slightly built wide receiver and free safety made all-conference, all-district and honorable mention all-state.

Two days after the fight Cal was lying on his bed reading Washington Irving's "The Spy," which he had chosen for an American Literature assignment, when Lydia climbed the narrow stairs to his room. She sat on the side of his bed and ran her fingers through his hair – something they both seemed to enjoy – just looking into his eyes.

"Come talk to me, Brother," she said, "while I get ready for the game tonight." He followed her to her bedroom where she undressed, stripping entirely naked in front of him for the first time ever. He then followed her to the bathroom and sat on the commode talking about school and things in general as she bathed. Back in her room, she silently handed him the towel and stood quietly while he lovingly and admiringly dried her body.

He sat on the edge of her bed as he always did when they were together like this, but she did not get dressed as usual, but sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers and holding it in her lap.

"I heard this morning that Jack Perkle is out for the season with a couple of broken ribs, and that you gave them to him because he was saying ugly, nasty things about me," she said quietly, searching his eyes. Cal nodded, returning her look of loving wonder – hers at his gallant deed, his at her wonderful body and nearness.

"I don't think he will do that again," Cal said smiling at the beautiful woman in front of him that his sister had become.

"He was such a creep on that date," she said. "I wanted in the worst way to call it off and get home as fast as possible . . . he was so strong and wouldn't take 'No!' for an answer."

"Do you want me to speak to him again about the way he treated you?" Cal asked seriously. "I didn't know about that."

Her smile was instantaneous and warm. "I don't think so Cal," she said stroking the side of his face. "We want to let him live long enough to graduate." They smiled together at her jest.

Her finger moved up to his forehead and traced the two-inch scab that was just starting to heal, and then dropped to his still puffy lip.

"So these didn't come from a football collision like you told Mom?" She asked teasingly.

"It was a football collision, just not on the field," he replied dryly, breaking out into a grim as his naked sister wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a warm, tight hug.

"Thank you, Cal, you are truly my knight in shining armor, and all the girls on the cheerleading squad are jealous that I have a brother like you." She paused then for a minute, holding him at arms' length. "And they would all also like me to fix them up with you," she added, watching for his reaction.

He thought about the idea for just a second and then shook his head. "I need to spend my time on schoolwork and my job. We need the money around here." She nodded, understanding his desire to help out with household finances, something she was also doing with her part-time job at the little mom-and-pop grocery store a couple of blocks down the street.

"Have you ever seen a girl naked before, Cal?" she asked inquisitively.

He looked at her body closely, drinking in every detail before replying. "You're not a girl, Lydia, you are a woman. Tricia is a girl. And the answer is "No!" and I am glad you were the first I got to see. You are beautiful."

She luxuriated in his innocently hungry gaze. "Would you like to touch me?"

He looked into her eyes questioningly and saw only the same love he had always seen, maybe just a little deeper and more adventurous this time.

"Would it be okay?"

"I would like you to," she said laying back on her bed and stretching her arms up to the headboard before circling them like a halo around her hair.

Cal then began to explore her body with the soft touch of his fingertips, his eyes filled with wonder and awe. He ran his fingers along her hairline, softly across the closed lids and lashes of her eyes, and back and forth over her warm lips. He covered every inch of her body, gently and lovingly, stopping to spend extra time on her firm breasts and sensitive nipples which had puffed up into dark, soft cones at his first touch.

When he reached her upper thighs she opened them completely and let him explore her vaginal area, coming back several times to run his fingers through the triangle of hair just above her slit.

At his pull on her hip she rolled over and he explored her back, from the nape of her neck to the soles of her feet, coming back one last time to gently spread her cheeks and rim her tight asshole.

Finally he was finished and leaned over to softly kiss each cheek before rolling her back over and laying down beside her. The siblings looked deep into each other's eyes and knew as they looked that someday they would make love in an even more intimate way, but what they had was enough for today.

Lydia rose and pulled on her cheerleading uniform, enjoying his eyes on her as she carefully situated the skin-tight bloomers to cover her pubic area and settled her breasts into place in the matching sports bra.

"Would you come and watch me tonight?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I don't think I want to be at the game," he said. "But when basketball season starts I plan on being there in the stands to watch your every move." She smiled her thanks, basking in his love. When he fulfilled his promise, she came away from every game that season totally wet and warm inside.

In the summer after Lydia's junior year a particularly violent storm blew through in the middle of the night. Tricia left the girls' bed, running to her mother's bedroom, climbing into bed with her source of protection, hugging her body to her mother's.

Lydia did the same thing, but it was not her mother she ended up hugging. It was a very surprised – and very grateful – Cal.

As the storm passed, Lydia turned from her spooning position to face her brother. She had felt him grow hard against her as he pulled her to himself, comforting her as the wind ripped limbs from the nearby trees and made the house shudder as if it would fall apart.

With the storm subsiding he thought she would return to her own bed. Instead, she sat up, leaned forward and, taking his rock-hard penis from his shorts, began to methodically stroke her hand along its length, squeezing gently as she came to the head, which had escaped its protective foreskin and had swelled round and purplish in her hand.

After a few strokes he pulled at her legs and she obligingly repositioned herself so he could begin to touch her as well, finding her wetness with gently probing fingers and spreading it along her slit until he had unveiled her clitoris and was gently running circles around it and occasional strokes over it as if he had been doing it all his life.

Lydia was the first to yield to even more primal instincts, leaning forward to enclose the head of his penis with her mouth, slowing taking in as much as she could before pulling back with all the sucking force she could muster with her tongue and cheek muscles.

Cal followed her lead, burying his face between her legs, reveling in the smell and taste of her as he found her clit with his tongue and began making love to it with both finger and tongue.