Same Old, Same Old

"Is this because of last night?"

"No." She said it quickly. As though she'd been waiting for me to bring it up.

"Then what?"

"I don't understand," she said in a small voice. "Why did you do that last night?"

"Why did I do it?" I cocked my head and smirked at her. "I seem to remember you doing your fair share"

"But why did YOU do it?"

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "Don't you ever get worked up?"

"I guess."

"Well, that's what happened last night."

"I don't know what to think about it," she said, kneading her hands together and looking at the floor.

"Christ," I said, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. "It didn't mean anything. I just had to do it, and you were there." Maybe a little more blunt than I intended, but it made my point.

"God, Matt. You don't have to say it like that."

"It's true. What do you want? Say it all soft and sweet?" I leaned down and became the most patronizing bastard ever to walk the planet. "I really loved fucking you, little sister. I hope you understand why I think we shouldn't try to make a big deal out of it. Brothers fucking sisters is still a touchy subject these days." I smiled so wide and so phony I was amazing myself.

"You're such a jerk," she said. That familiar fire in her eyes. Her lips were tight and her little fists were balled up.

"Mom's not here to yell at me. Dad's not home to protect you. So why don't you just go to your room and do whatever it is you do. 'Kay?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Matt."

"Well, bravo. You're right. I won't beat up my little sister. Tell me, BETHANY, how come you never got all A's with that big damn brain of yours?"

"Fuck you, Matt."

"Get out of my room."

"No."

"Out."

"No."

I picked her up under her arms and carried her into the hall. She slipped in the door again before I could shut it.

"Apologize," she said hotly.

"No." I was getting angry.

"Apologize!"

"Shut the fuck up."

She swung at me, her little hand open and her fingers splayed. When her hand smacked into my face, it surprised me. I didn't mean what happened next. I grabbed her arms, just under her shoulders. She winced in pain. I was pissed. I pulled her close and reminded myself that I didn't really want to hurt her.

She looked scared. I just pushed her away.

"Matt, I'm sorry," she said quickly. She rushed up to me, putting her hand on my cheek. "I'm sorry. I - I didn't -"

"Just shut up," I said, feeling cranked, angry, and tired all at the same time. She tried to hug me, but I stepped back. I was starting to feel cornered, as if I had to run but couldn't.

"Please," she said, crying a little, "don't be mad. Please?"

"Why can't you just leave things alone? Why?"

"I don't want to fight anymore. You're my brother. Don't you like me? Is that why we argue all the time?"

"We just do. I don't know. Maybe we just don't mix well."

"Matt, I just don't want to do this." She had her arms around me. I could smell her shampoo from the night before. I pushed her away as I went to the bed. She pressed her legs up against me as I sat on the mattress.

"Beth, just shut up." I didn't want to sound nasty. I just wanted her to stop talking. "Just - shut - up," I said through clenched teeth. She moved away from me, and I thought she was going to leave. But she didn't. She walked in front of me and crawled up, sitting on my lap. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Her face was right in front of mine. Her hands came up and cupped my cheeks.

She kissed me. I didn't like the way she did it. It was too tender. Like she was trying to take away my anger, or pain, or whatever she thought was wrong. I didn't even know what was wrong.

I pushed her away.

"Don't worry. Shhh..." she told me. She kissed me again. The thing is, the more she tried to help me, the more she reminded me that I had these problems. I'd had them forever. Got into fights at school. Suspensions. Job after job. And I could just never mesh with my sister. Ever. Our relationship has always been just a little...off.

She pushed me back, unwrapping her legs from around me, kneeling over my body.

"Go away," I pleaded quietly. "Please."

"Don't be angry, Matt. You don't have to be," she said as she stroked her little fingers over my forehead.

I beat a guy into a concussion and a broken nose one time. He called Beth a slut when she wore a skirt that was too short. He wasn't done laughing before I had my hands around his throat.

"You're so fucking stupid," I told her. She just leaned over, held her hands to my chest, and kissed my lips. Fucking...

"Get off!" I yelled, throwing her from me. She hit the floor and rolled to her side.

"Dammit, Matt!"

"Last night was a lark. Get that through your head. I don't want to be around you. Understand?"

"Asshole," she said under her breath.

"Get out," I said, hauling her up by the arm.

"Ow!"

"Shut up."

"Stop it!"

"Out!"

She slammed the door, shutting us in together.

"Stop it!" she yelled, shoving at me with her hands.

"You wanna do this?" I pushed her back. We shoved back and forth until I had her pinned to the floor, both of us breathing hard. I was on her back, her arms were crossed under her chest, and she squirmed trying to get free. I had an arm at her mouth as I reached around to hold on to her little fist.

She bit down. Not hard. Barely more than a faint impression in my skin. She started nuzzling against me, lifting her head back, rubbing her cheek against mine. I couldn't think straight.

"Fine," I growled. "Fine. This... Fine." I reached under me, unbuttoning my pants and pulling out my cock. Hard as a crowbar. I yanked her panties down. At that moment, I didn't take any notice of how she lifted her hips to let me. I didn't say anything. I just shoved into her. She was wet and I went in as if we were made to fuck each other.

I still had her trapped under me. Her sweatshirt was thick in my face as I hunched into her, pounding hard and fast. Her breath was ragged and she arched her back, just letting me do all the work. I don't think I'm all that overly hung, but I filled her tight. We weren't romantic by any means. It was fucking. F-U-C-K-I-N-G.

She started to tell me how good it felt.

"Shut up," I grunted. "Christ. Don't-" slam, "fucking-" slam, "talk!" Slam. She yelped with each ram into her cunt.

I fucked her on the floor of my bedroom, both of us still half dressed, or mostly dressed. The sun was bright and showed fat columns of dust swimming in slants. Someone was mowing their lawn a house or two away. Beth was sobbing under me, pushing into each thrust, smacking her smooth, round ass cheeks into my stomach.

I felt her shake and shudder under me, lowering her head and clenching her teeth. I kept fucking her. She wasn't crying anymore. She was kissing my arm. Small, gentle touches of her soft lips. I barreled into her, feeling my balls tighten up, my cock getting harder and then I pressed so tight into her that I heard her let out a hard breath as I crushed her to the carpet. Cum shot into her, making her gasp. I'd just cum in my little sister's cunt. I pushed off her, yanking out while I was still cumming.

It jerked around, pulsing smaller and smaller spurts of bright white cum. It went on her around her cheeks, and up the small of her back.

She just laid there. I stumbled to my feet and ran to the bathroom, and managed to lean over the sink before I puked. I rinsed my mouth with water and took a piss. It was all I could do. I couldn't - it was all I thought to do. I zipped up and avoided the mirror as I mechanically washed my hands. I wiped them on a small green towel my mom kept putting up there. I hated that towel.

Beth was still on the floor. She was rotating the feeling back into her hands and stretching her arms. I walked over and wiped her back and her ass clean. She pulled her panties up and got to her knees as I walked back to the bathroom. I wadded up the towel and threw it in the small trash basket.

Neither of us said anything. She wanted to. I could see it in her eyes. They were still red from crying.

Mom walked in the front door with my aunt. They were laughing and carrying on about some damn thing. Beth just looked at me and then went back to her room. I turned on the stereo, not caring what was on. I ignored my mom's call, sat down, and picked up my book.

* * * * *

The next day was Sunday, and as such, it meant that it would be a lot of sitting around. Boredom leads, in my experience, to short tempers. Mom and Dad were out looking at rugs. Honest to God, rugs. Every Sunday. Four hours minimum - rugs. Never bought one, but they were bound and determined to find one that would fit the living room no one was allowed to sit in.

Beth was in her room. Some incredibly bad band was screeching out of her stereo, making my liver shrivel up and become an angry little raisin. I shut my door. Armed with my own stereo, I put on a CD. Strong, driving guitar. Nothing. I could still hear her noise pollution crushing my brain.

"Beth!" I yelled. I turned off mine and stomped across the hall. She was standing, facing a pair of bookshelves, and reorganizing her things. Her head moved in rhythm to the awful stuff coming from her speakers.

I smacked my hand to her shoulder, making her jump.

She turned my down the "music" and started in on me as soon as she could hear herself speak. Apparently, it was my fault her stereo was up so loud, as I had left mine on that morning and she had to turn hers up just to hear, and she must not have noticed that I had since turned mine down. Interesting theory, considering mine was on so low that I didn't notice it when I woke up, never mind that it was all bullshit.

I don't suppose it takes a genius to see where this all ended up. What with Beth and I half-dressed, swearing at each other and fucking like angry, meth-addicted rabbits. It was impossible to describe. Such as had become my life. That was the third time in as many days that we had fucked each other. Each time after, I felt like shit. I knew it was wrong. But feeling her little tits on my chest, and sliding my aching cock in and out of her warm, inviting body, it was like drugs.

I left her on her bedroom floor, naked and with a mouthful of cum. I pulled the plug on her stereo and muttered something about how I was sick of hearing it.

I went across the hall and locked my door behind me. My head was swimming. I couldn't breath. I almost jumped through the wall when she knocked at the other side of the door.

She told me that it was okay. She tried to tell me that we'd work through it. That I shouldn't worry about it. Maybe this was our way of telling ourselves that we didn't hate each other. That we didn't even dislike each other.

I didn't know about that.

I crawled up on my bed and tried to cover my ears with a pillow. I could still hear her. So damned nice. So damned concerned. Why wasn't she flipping out? Why wasn't she having a stroke over this? For Christ's sake, I fucked my sister.

When we were fucking on her floor and she wouldn't shut up about loving me and wanting to be close no matter what and fucking Christ, it wouldn't stop. I pulled out of her, moved up her body, and stuffed my cock in her mouth as I came.

She was outside my door telling me that everything would be okay.

I don't know who started that one. I don't remember anything except yelling about the stereo, shoving, and then I'm yanking her pants off while she pulled her shirt over her head. My only consolation was if anyone ever found out, that at least she was 18. Couldn't arrest me. There was that, at least.

* * * * *

Two days later, something different happened. We were sitting in our rooms. I was going over a course schedule for the upcoming term and she was getting ready for bed. She walked down the hall in a towel. Her tan skin was smooth and almost like a ginger crème. I watched her take off her towel and walk in and out of view, from one side of her door to the other. I put down the schedule and walked over to her doorway.

She was going through some big elaborate lotion and powder routine that my male brain didn't understand. She saw me standing there and didn't bother with covering up. Her body was amazing. Her small breasts were perfect little cones, making her seem pixie-like. I was standing behind her, watching. She stared at me in the mirror with those big green eyes that drove me nuts.

We just looked at each other for a long few minutes. She turned to look at me, waiting for me to say something. Her eyes begged me to just say her name. I ran a hand over her tight belly, making her jump. Her eyes closed and her lower lip disappeared between her teeth.

I turned her around and pushed her gently to her bed. I undressed, leaving her bent over the foot of her mattress. Her legs were spread and her incredible ass was just calling to me.

She never looked back at me. Never said a word. I could smell her. My cock rose, feeling suddenly heavy. I came up behind her and slid my cock-head up and down her deep crack. It was glistening with her juices.

I pressed in her cunt, pushing into the hot tissue. Spreading her and making her moan. I placed my hands on the twin mounds of her ass. She pushed against me, grabbing hold of two fistfuls of sheets.

She never said a word. We just fucked slowly in the dim room, alone at that late hour. We didn't have to be quiet. Our parents would never hear us. But aside from soft moans and a few grunts of pleasure and effort, we didn't make a sound.

I felt her cum. She fluttered around my cock and her legs trembled. I couldn't cum. I didn't want to. Not like that. This was too deliberate. I meant too much. I thought about every nasty, dirty, pornographic thing I could. I finally finished, just thinking about the woman who lived three houses down. I had wanted her for years. I pictured her with her panties down around her knees, bent over and pulling her tight ass cheeks apart.

Beth gasped softly as I filled her with a few automatic spurts of cum. I couldn't keep it going. My cock went down almost immediately. There's something women don't understand about men, and something we're too polite to mention to them. We can fuck them, cum, and never really have an orgasm. It's like sneezing and not having a cold. They aren't mutually exclusive.

Beth smiled at me as I walked around her and slumped down in her chair. It smelled like her. I watched her as she crawled up on the bed and curled up on her side. She just stared at me and had a half-grin on her face the whole time.

I wanted to slap her. Make her hate me for just a minute. Make her forget that she thought there was something between us.

But I just sat there. She fell asleep eventually. I pulled her sheet up over her and turned off her lamp. She was peaceful when she slept. Most people looked liked they've been drugged when they sleep. But she looked peaceful. I pushed her hair from her face as I watched her.

Finally, I snorted in disgust. I had to get out of there. Things were just wrong. I fucking knew that. I did. What was more screwed up than anything was that I was so terrified that this was becoming more than just grist for future therapy bills, that I almost hadn't been able to cum.

I walked back to my room and thought seriously about just packing some things and getting out. But I didn't. So, I turned on the radio and masturbated into the toilet, thinking about Mrs. Calvin from three houses down. She was dressed like my sister as I closed my eyes and heard the plop of cum jetting into the water.

* * * * *

Fighting seemed to bring on every other instance for a long time. We had a kind of routine developed. We would fight all day. Nasty stuff. More my end than her. But we fought. Then we were fucking on the floor or against the wall, or over her desk. We fucked in the car once, after I picked her up from a movie with her friends and she was late getting out.

She stopped dating. I told her to forget what we did together. I couldn't stop us, but it damn sure didn't mean anything. We were barely siblings and certainly weren't more than that.

I saw the way she looked at me. I read the things she wrote about me in her diary. Not the two decoys under her mattress or in the painfully obvious secret compartment of her desk drawer, but the real one she hid between the wall and the air vents. I read it when she was gone and I swore each time that we weren't going to do it anymore.

Although, it was usually just a matter of hours and I had her on the floor swallowing my cock while I held her head to me. Each time, after wiping my cum from her skin, or just leaving her there, still angry, or looking at me and calling me to her - each time, I would end up hiding away, trying to figure out what was happening to my life.

Was this addiction? I would wonder. Was this what it was like to loose control of your life? I asked myself. It had to be. It had to be an addiction. It didn't mean I wasn't going to close my eyes and think of Beth on her knees, her shapely little ass sticking out behind her while she fisted my cock and sucked its head. It didn't mean that I wouldn't press my palms into my eyes until the image of her little breasts shining with sweat or the way they looked messy with cum had burned away with splotches of popping light and pain. Didn't mean any of that.

She was my drug of choice.

Things got more unpredictable between us. I was on a short fuse with her, and my heart raced when we were full on in a really nasty shouting match. I called her names when we laid together fucking. I growled in her ear for her to shut her mouth when we fucked in the men's room of a Burger King one morning.

In a strange way, our parents thought things were getting better. Our dad mentioned how nice it was that we spent so much time together. I hadn't realized it, but we had been together more often than ever. I took her to parties and bon fires out in the country. She asked me to drive her to meet her friends. She asked me if I would come get her from friends' houses, or movies, or the mall.

I griped and cursed and did it anyway. I was hooked. I hated myself for what I did - for what I did to her, but then, there I was.

This was our old routine: We would argue, push, shove, say things that were horrible (I did at least), and then when no one was around we would fuck. She would come to me. I would go to her.

After a while, the routine became a little looser. When I was bored, or down about something that was nothing to do with her, she was there if I wanted a blowjob. Or if she was feeling low, or just wanted it, I would spend 20 minutes eating her to an orgasm. We fucked when there was nothing on TV. We fucked when we couldn't sleep. We fucked when we just wanted to fuck.

My sister had become my fuck-buddy. I could rage and rant at her, let her scream and yell back at me, and then have her clothes off and bent over her mattress while I tried to put my cock in her butt if we felt like it.

We were both at a party one Wednesday night. Mostly college kids. I brought her along when her friends cancelled on her. We got there, a house out off a massive rural highway. Huge bon fire raging out back. People everywhere. Jerry Lee Lewis playing on the speakers that were wired all through the house. Like veins on the wrong side of the skin, red wire was tacked up and spliced together all over the walls.

Beth bounced away, seeing a few people she knew. I was already angry with myself for bringing her. I wanted to get away from her and suddenly we're driving around the country looking for a party in the middle of nowhere.

So, she's off talking to people she knows and I'm standing around, trading stories with some of my buddies from high school. Time passes. Some idiot put an Ani DeFranco CD in the changer and was promptly thrown out, dodging the broken pieces of the CD. With angry, 20 year-old, shit-kicking country coming out of the walls, we resumed our stories, lies, and fantasies.