Honest Mistake

We ended up at Sandton City. Busy place, busy people, lots of people, lot of popcorn, long glasses of Coke, and even longer lines, for the ticket windows, for refreshments, even for the entrance to theatres. We could lose ourselves in the crowd and there was no one to recognize us as who we were, because no one we knew lived in this part of South Africa. Not that it would have mattered; I mean I was at the movies with my brother, big deal. But the events of the evening had tarnished the innocence of going out with my brother. The feelings of that penis embedded inside of me were fresh between my legs and my braless breasts were constantly reminding me the reason for our getting together in the first place. It wasn’t so much who I was with as how I was dressed when I was with him. No one dresses like that to go out with her brother and I felt so self-conscious that I actually imagined that everyone knew what had transpired that evening. I knew in the back of my mind that no one could know, but what if someone did.

That’s why it was a shock worthy of a heart attack when we heard two very familiar voices right behind us in that long, fucking line of a million fucking people.

“Well, well, well,” Janice said in a very excited voice. “So, the two of you did hit it off. Quite well, I might add…” she winked knowingly at her husband, “…if you are here at the movies, which wasn’t even planned for the evening.”

How does that line go? Of all the cinemas in the world, she had to walk into this one, and right behind us in the line. Actually, they had cut in front of others because they were with us—at least that’s what the others must have thought. It only seemed like they were behind us because we didn’t expect them to be there.

She asked Rick to buy two tickets for them as well. We made such a wonderful foursome: lively, energetic, full of passion, full of life, very beautiful. That’s how Janice’s husband (what the hell was his name?) put it. That virtually eliminated any chance of us telling them that we had decided to call it quits after one date. That also ensured that there will be other dates to come where Rick and Lizzy will join Janice and Dave (I finally did learn his name)—or vice versa—for an evening on the town.

Janice and Dave weren’t the only ones who saw us as a couple. There were others around who looked at us with curious eyes, specially guys that saw me and then gave Rick that “lucky bastard” look. I was aware of them because it is part of being a female to know when she is being ogled, but apparently Rick was also aware of them, and I was surprised at the reaction he gave. It wasn’t something too obvious or noticeable, but I sensed it. The way his head was cocked when he looked back at those guys, almost as if he was showing off. I couldn’t believe that I was being treated as a trophy girlfriend.

It turned out that it wasn’t really a big deal to pretend to be boyfriend-girlfriend when there was no possibility of anyone knowing our real relationship. Our surname was common enough that many other people, total strangers to each other, also had the same last name. When the issue did come up, it was shoved aside with no more than a careless shrug.

We went to the movies a lot. We went shopping quite often. Almost always we ended up at a different restaurant. We didn’t think much of it. We settled into our roles quite easily and didn’t really have to behave in any way out of the ordinary. The only thing we had to do was to make sure that we didn’t call each other with the words “brother” or “sister”; which wasn’t a problem because I have always called him Rick and he’s always called me Lizzy.

We made a good couple though. Always considerate, always caring. Never once did he disagree with me on anything and never once did I act selfishly. He always behaved as a perfect gentleman, holding the door open for me or pulling the chair out for me. I always asked for his opinion, showed respect for his words, and acted on them. Because I knew him so well, many a times I even ordered for him without consulting him, and each time he enjoyed the meal. He helped me shop and gave me open and honest opinions about what looked good on me and what didn’t. We ran errands for each other. We even stayed with each other on those late nights when assignments were due and either he or I had to stay at work while the other was free. We always spoke well of each other and never once criticized the other for anything whatsoever. There were no demands made by either one of us that could strain our relationship; thus leaving our relationship pleasant and courteous, and yes, caring—very caring—almost loving to the watchful eyes. We did love each other, no doubt about that, and it showed in our attitude. This love was without any need for reciprocation and that made it very special.

There was one problem, though. We spent almost all of our free time with each other, thus leaving no time for anyone else. We were pretending to be boyfriend-girlfriend so often that we had no time to actually find someone else to take over the roles we were playing. I had no trouble with it because I wasn’t really interested in a relationship. I don’t know how he felt about it, though, but I didn’t hear any complaints, so I assumed he was in the same boat. We were using each other to keep from getting involved with someone else. I was even approached by a couple of prospects and I refused by telling them that I wasn’t interested because I was already in a relationship. Where I would otherwise have at least entertained the idea of going out with one of them, my involvement with Rick made it easy to say no.

There was another problem. Every time I went out with Rick, the man with his hands on my shoulders and his penis firmly stuck inside of me, filling me from my tail to my top, came with me. I couldn’t shake that image from my mind. Worst, I couldn’t stop the beating of my heart at the thought of being so full-filled. I recoiled each time I looked over my shoulder in my thoughts and saw Rick pushing himself inward ever deeper. The problem wasn’t that the man behind me was turning into Rick. The problem was that ever so slowly, day by day, meeting by meeting, Rick was turning into the man behind me.

I don’t know how to explain it, but everything happened very subtly. At first, whenever we met, there was that brother and sister distance—let’s call it sexual boundary that can’t be crossed. But, each time we met, there were those slight touches that couldn’t be helped: rubbing of shoulders when standing in a line, arms against arms in a cinema, even knees bumping or legs pressing against each other while watching a movie or sitting in a restaurant. At first we were very aware of such contacts and made a conscious effort to end them, but as we spent more time together, as we became more comfortable with each other’s company, and as we became more familiar with each other’s bodies, there was less and less effort to end those contacts, until finally it became nonexistent. That boundary started to crumble, like a rock crumbles against constant onslaught of water drops. It became no big deal for me to put my arm into his and lean into him as we took slow walks around the mall. It was no big deal for me to lean my head on his shoulder or for him to put his arm around me during the movies.

It was inevitable that during those close moments, my breasts would touch his arm. The first time it happened, it was a pleasant shock. His triceps flexed instinctively as my breast came in contact with it. Some of the hardness from his muscle almost effortlessly transferred to my nipple. I pulled back immediately but the pleasant feelings stayed with me for a while. The next time it happened, I wasn’t so quick to pull away because I had enjoyed the previous contact. He was undecided as to what he was supposed to do. At first he pulled away but realizing that probably he was supposed to act nonchalant, he came back, only to actually push back on my breast. This made it worst for him and he jerked away. I grabbed his arm in mine and held him tight against myself because Janice and Dave were becoming aware of our struggle. He relaxed after a short while and I held my breast against his arm for a while to make it look nonchalant. The contact was long enough to actually cause a tremendous increase in my blood circulation and if his breathing was as erratic as mine, he must have had an erection. Of course, we had to be nonchalant about the whole thing with each other.

The boundary crumbled a lot more once this kind of contact became a norm.

As the days passed, Janice became more and more vocal about how she envied our relationship. Sure, we didn’t kiss in public, but that made it even better (or worst for her) because we showed the utmost respect for each other by reserving the intimate details to the privacy of our own homes—even though there were no details to speak of.

That very fact that there were no intimate details from such an “enviable” relationship became a cause of frustration for me. I was involved with a man whom I couldn’t touch. I was in a relationship with no kissing or hugging to speak of. I was with a man who couldn’t fondle me or run his hands all over me. Other times a man with his hands all over me would have been a turnoff, but now, lacking that from the man I was “dating”, became a source of anguish. I wanted to be fondled. I wanted to be kissed and I wanted to be screwed. As crude as that word is, that is exactly what I wanted to be done to me. I wanted a man to screw me, screw me hard. I wanted to feel a penis enter my pussy. I wanted a man to come inside of me and make me high on those hormones that doctors now claim keep a woman happy. I wanted to wrap my legs around a strong waist, like Rick’s. I wanted to feel my naked breasts against a strong, muscular chest, like Rick’s. I wanted my buttocks in big hands, like Rick’s, as he pounded me senseless. I wanted a big, hard, throbbing dick shoved up my cunt to the hilt, like Rick’s. Well, in this last case, I didn’t know what his dick was like, but one thing was for sure; I wanted a man like Rick to fuck me hard. It had to be a man LIKE Rick because it couldn’t be RICK himself. He was forbidden, out of my reach, not to copulate with even in my imagination.

That was yet another problem—my imagination. It, somehow, had trouble following the rules. I wanted a man like Rick, yet it would always end up with Rick. I would think of a man approach me from behind and place his hands on my breasts, fondling them gently. Then my imagination would bring Rick’s voice to my ears asking me if I liked what he was doing. I would think of kneeling in front of a strong, big man holding his fully erect cock in my mouth, tasting his juices, while cupping my hand around his balls and my imagination would bring Rick’s smiling face looking down on me as he ran his fingers through my hair. I would picture myself lying on the bed, knees against my chest, feet over a man’s shoulders as he pumped violently while my hands held his butt tight urging him on to go faster and deeper, and my imagination would bring Rick’s words to my ears, “Hold on Lizzy, I am coming.”

I was going crazy. I noticed that so was he, probably. I noticed some emotional toll on him as well because he became snappy during some of our close encounters. I felt his tension during certain situations where we were borderline intimate.

Our seemingly “wonderful” relationship ended up putting a strain on Janice and Dave’s marriage. Imagine the irony. We were frustrated that we didn’t—we couldn’t—have a relationship and they were frustrated that they wanted a relationship just like ours. It didn’t help much when finally, after months of curiosity, Janice asked me how is Rick in bed. I had to give the only appropriate answer possible: He is wonderful. I told her that he treats me even better in private than he does in public.

It wasn’t long after that revelation that something else that was inevitable happened. One day, Janice and Dave, cancelled on us thus leaving Rick and I alone, on a date.

We had a dilemma. We were officially on a date, but since there were no Janice and Dave, we didn’t have to pretend to be boyfriend-girlfriend anymore. Yet, we had done similar activities for so long as boyfriend-girlfriend that we were out of practice being brother and sister. We didn’t know which role to play. In the confusion of our minds, we mixed up the roles and ended up acting like strangers. I didn’t know if I could lean on his shoulder any more or not. He didn’t know if he could put his arm around me or not. I didn’t know if it was okay for our legs to press against each other. He didn’t know if we were supposed to sit across from each other in the restaurant or next to each other. Those nonchalant hand touches, those careless breast-to-arm contacts, even simple pats on the shoulder, all became a problem and we ended up acting like two of the clumsiest people on this planet. When the evening came to a close—rather abruptly—I had no choice but to go home and cry.

To make things worst, Janice told me they were too “stressed out” and wanted to go on a “vacation” to recoup. Of course, they wouldn’t go unless we joined them. I didn’t realize it at that time, but they didn’t want to be alone with each other. It was almost a reversal of roles, where Janice wanted Rick and I to be around to give her an escape.

So, the beautiful foursome ended up in the Sun City. I had booked rooms that were far away from each other, in different parts of the hotel, to make sure that Rick and I didn’t have to exert ourselves too much in playing the role that was now becoming stressful for us. I even thought of finding a way out and ending this farce once and for all. I vowed to make ourselves busy and less available for them once we went back to Johannesburg, as a prelude to eventually breaking up with my “brother”.

Of course, that didn’t keep Janice away from us. I became alarmed when we spent our first day in the Sun City, basically the three of us, sightseeing while Dave spent his time in the casino. He was escaping from her and she was escaping from him. I also became alarmed when I noticed that Janice was getting rather familiar with Rick. She touched him a lot more than usual, or rather a lot more than she was supposed to. To make matters worst, Rick found an outlet for his frustrations and he responded to her a bit more than he was supposed to.

It was the second night in the hotel room and we ended up in our room rather early. Janice went to her room to freshen up as Rick took to the bed to scan through the sports channels. I decided to pass away the time by painting my toenails and doing something about my hair. Dinner was still a couple of hours away.

When Janice came back, she found me sitting on the bed with curlers in my hair, cotton between my toes, and a file running back and forth on my nails. I had taken my clothes off nicely and put them on hangers to keep them from wrinkling. I was wearing one of Rick’s T-shirts. He was busy making tea for me before taking one for himself.

Tears were quite visible in her eyes as she said, “I can’t believe how comfortable the two of you are with each other.”

I don’t know what came to Rick’s mind when he went to her and held both of her hands in his. He looked into her eyes and said, “We owe it all to you, Janice. If it wasn’t for you, we would have never met.”

I didn’t know if he meant that as a joke, but she came to him as if he had pulled her towards himself. She went into his arms as he wrapped them around her and held her tight. As I looked at the scene, I felt anger build inside of me. What was happening in front of me was wrong; it shouldn’t be happening. I didn’t know if I was supposed to say something, but it dawned on me that I really didn’t have the right to say anything, being his sister. Yet, I was role-playing and my role dictated that I had every right to object to what was happening.

I don’t know who made the first move, Janice or Rick, but there was a kiss that transpired between the two of them. They were standing in front of me, hugging and kissing each other. My anger became stronger as the kiss became longer, until I finally cleared my throat as an indication of my disapproval of the scene. Janice was the first to pull away as she came to her senses and realized that she had violated a cardinal rule of friendship.

She left quickly, very quickly. I stared at Rick for an explanation, but apparently he didn’t think much of what had happened, and that made me even angrier. I asked him very bluntly, “What the hell was that?”

“What, that? Oh, I was just giving the poor woman something to take her mind off of her problems.”

“But, at the risk of humiliating me.”

“How is that going to humiliate you?”

“What kind of a stupid question is that?” I couldn’t believe how angry I was at his ignorance. “You are supposed to be mine, and you are kissing another woman in front of me. How can that not be humiliating for me?”

“It was a harmless flirtation. Just to keep her busy.”

“It wasn’t harmless, Rick. You have made me look stupid. What do you think she is going to think about me when I can’t keep my man to myself?”

“I am not your man, Lizzy.” He was annoyed.

I became furious at his annoyance. I guess all that pent-up strain in our “relationship” was finally coming to a boil. “To her you are,” I screamed. “To her husband you are.”

He said nothing and went back to the TV. I went into the bathroom to cool myself down. Once there, I decided to take a bath. I didn’t want to come out and face him. It wasn’t so much what he did that I was upset about, rather it was the whole situation. It was clear to me that we were in an abnormal situation and it was now causing us to behave oddly. The answer was not for me to get angry at him, but to get angry at myself for being in this situation and then use that anger to get out of the situation.

I didn’t go to the dinner. Janice came to the room while the two men were still busy eating. She apologized vehemently. I realized then that I was more upset with her than with Rick. She was my friend and she was married. Sure she was vulnerable, but she didn’t have to make a move on my man. She betrayed our friendship. I was so cold to her that she had no choice but to leave.

Rick stayed out late. By the time he came back, I was half asleep. He brushed his teeth, changed into his nightclothes and came to bed. He gently touched my shoulder and asked, “Lizzy, are you awake?”

At first I thought of pretending to be asleep, but I knew that eventually we had to talk about the situation and that was as good a time as any. I answered, “Yes, I am awake.”

He slipped under the blanket and spread himself next to me. Then he tugged on my shoulder and asked me to turn to face him, which, I reluctantly did.

He took my arm and put it around his neck then he placed his left arm under my neck and wrapped the other one around my waist and pulled me into himself. My breasts were pressed against his chest, my belly touching his belly, and my legs firmly pressed against his legs. He then reached down and grabbed my calf and pulled my leg over and around his side. This was a truly intimate moment for us. I held my breath as I waited for him to say something. It was so quiet in the room that I could hear his heart beating. Of course, soon, I could hear my own splitting my ear drums.

He held me just like that. Didn’t say a thing? I finally exhaled and snuggled into him. I knew what he wanted to say and the fact that he chose not to say it made it even more meaningful. I could sense in his body language that he was truly sorry. This was probably the sweetest thing I could have expected in a situation like this. It was my turn to let him know that I understood him and may be even that I forgave him. His sorry was so eloquent that I had to respond to it in the only way possible. I reached up and gently kissed his lips.