Unadulterated, Forbidden Love

I awoke sometime during the night and was instantly aware of an arm draped over me, a hand gently cupping a breast, and a very male body pressed snugly against my backside. Awakening in this way, I could not help but smile to myself.

*****

We are fraternal twins, even though we officially share different birthdays: My brother was born a few minutes before midnight, while I was born a few minutes after midnight. After having inhabited the same tiny space for nine months together, it is perhaps no wonder that we are both so close, and always have been. It is often said that twins tend to share some special bond, able to "know" about the other at seemingly all times even when separated by great distances, and that has certainly been the case between us.

Even once our parents had brought us home from the hospital, they would tell family and friends, my brother and I were never content to be apart. We had separate bedrooms, but whenever we were not in direct sight of each other, we would both cry and fuss. After nearly two weeks of virtually no sleep, our parents relented and finally placed us in the same room, but even then, we were not content until we occupied the same crib, against their better judgment... but that was the key to both our happiness and their sanity.

As we grew older, there was very little that one of us ever did without somehow involving the other. Perhaps not surprisingly, we shared a number of similar interests. We typically had the same friends. We even tended to wear similar clothes, and almost always wore all-black outfits. Certainly, we fought on occasion, just like any other pair of siblings, but there was no doubt to anyone that my brother and I were inseparable, and also fiercely loyal to each other in all situations.

Only Siamese twins could be closer.

*****

As I began to drift off to sleep again, feeling safe and protected, the hand began to gently squeeze my breast, in that steady, slow, respectful rhythm I have always enjoyed and cherished. With a contented sigh, I closed my eyes, knowing deep inside that I would not sleep while being fondled so tenderly. I cursed my pajamas for barring the direct contact of skin against skin, yet the feel of the soft, well-worn flannel material brushing against my feminine flesh held a wonderful charm and sensuality of its own.

Further, I could feel an erection growing against my lower cheeks. I wondered if he was awake and simply playing with me, or asleep and completely unaware of what he was doing with my body. In either case, I did not mind, for this was a summertime weekend, thus no class or job awaited me with the dawn. In fact, I wiggled back against him, knowing all-too-well that it would add fuel to his fiery passion if he truly was awake.

Yet as I listened to his breathing against the back of my head, I realized that it was far too regular for him to be awake. He had to be lost in that hazy state somewhere between full consciousness and deep sleep, that odd state where dream is inseparable from reality and the mind is uncertain if what is seen and heard and felt is truly happening or simply the product of a hyperactive imagination.

Somehow, I doubted that he was conscious of his current actions, although I wondered how he felt at that moment. "How he felt" became quite evident as he began to hump me slowly, sliding his heavy, familiar erection along the natural crease. I sighed again, content, and was suddenly aware of just how aroused I had become from his kind manipulations of my body. As his hand squeezed my breast again, it shifted position, a finger sliding just perfectly across the erect nipple, the gentle sensuality of the act combining with the sweet signal shot from nipple to clitoris to force a soft whimper from my lips.

*****

Just two weeks before our high school graduation, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, his girlfriend dumped him. He returned home that night, a stoic expression upon his face. Our parents having already gone to bed, no one saw that expression but me, and I knew instantly what had happened. We went down to the basement rec room, sat on the sofa, and talked. He poured out his frustration, his hurt, his anger, his disbelief, and ultimately his tears. My shoulder was quite wet when we finally went upstairs to our bedrooms some two hours later, but what mattered most was that I had been able to provide him with understanding and comfort. Once again, I had been his confidante, just as he had been for me so many times in our short lives.

As I stood in the moonlight that filtered through my open bedroom window, I removed my t-shirt. As the near-summer breeze wafted over my bare, dampened shoulder, anger arose within me. I knew his girlfriend, having shared several classes with her throughout our four years of high school. I was angry with her for hurting my big brother, for breaking his heart. Certainly, he had been involved with several other girls over the past few years, and he had been dumped before, but even had I not been his confidante, I would have definitely known that he had cared the most for her. She had hurt my big brother romantically, and I was more than ready to hurt her physically in response, despite my hatred of violence.

*****

His hand gripped my breast roughly, the movement of his hips more insistent against me. His breathing was definitely growing more ragged, but still had a measure of regularity to it. He was still trapped somewhere between full consciousness and deep sleep, lost in that seemingly-unnatural haze. His body was fully aware of what was taking place, but his mind was utterly unable to process it.

I was certainly not innocent in this use of my body. My hand upon his, I definitely did not want him to release my breast, and secretly wished that his other hand could find its way to my other breast as well. I desperately wanted to feel him inside me, feel him fill me again and again, feel him explode within me. But I contented myself with pressing back against him with a passion, matching the rhythm set by his thrusting hips. Soft, lewd sounds escaped my lips, yet I did not care.

*****

Not three days later, my boyfriend dumped me between classes at school. I was so thankful that both our parents worked in the city, because once we returned home from school, that gave me about three hours to pour out my anguish to my big brother. Just as I had done with him a few night before, he held me close and allowed me to empty my tears upon his shoulder. This time, however, we lay on his bed, a bed we had often platonically shared during our childhood, and a realization suddenly enlightened me...

...as we had dated other students, I had been subconsciously searching for a guy just like my big brother, and he had been searching for a girl just like me. And from the way he suddenly held me even tighter, he had just received the same enlightenment.

Even as I continued to cry, I nudged him away and began to unbutton his thin black shirt, baring his chest to my gaze. His arms enveloped me again, but this time romantically as I gently sucked a nipple, grazing it carefully with my teeth. As his hand stroked my hair, it was clear that he needed this just as much as I needed to do this for him, and I continued, switching to my big brother's other nipple as my hands slipped to his belt...

*****

His arm pulled me tightly against his chest, his hand gripping my breast so tightly it was nearly painful. His hips thrust between my lower cheeks so rapidly that I was certain that he was now fully awake, yet his breathing still maintained a measure of regularity that left me somewhat befuddled. I was so thankful that we had the house to ourselves for the weekend, because the protesting of the bed and the no-longer-quiet sounds escaping my lips would certainly have caused some serious concern for our parents had they been there.

As my body had been molested, the pajama shirt had ridden up my back, exposing my now-sweaty back to his now-sweaty stomach. Each contact of skin-upon-skin was all too brief for my liking, but had felt increasingly wonderful each time. With each unfettered contact, I had wanted more and more to rip the pajama shirt open so he could maul my bare breast, despite the growing discomfort of his hold upon my feminine flesh.

But suddenly, I felt the very tip of his hard erection make direct contact with my exposed lower back. He suddenly froze, a loud gasp of surprise rushing past my ear.

My big brother was finally fully conscious, and suddenly aware that he had not (entirely) been dreaming.

Before he could pull himself away from me, I grabbed his hand and forced it to squeeze my breast even harder, wincing slightly from the resultant twinge of pain yet noting how it caused a reaction at the base of my torso.

"It's okay, big brother," I assured him quietly between my own gasps for air. "It's okay."

*****

"If only I had realized so long ago that the woman I have been looking for was actually my own baby sister," he said softly just before he lowered his lips to mine. And as I melted into his kiss, I graduated from girlhood to womanhood, crying into his mouth from the slight pain.

My big brother was soon buried deep inside my body. I felt complete, whole, as if I had been a difficult puzzle whose final piece had at last been put into place. My heart swelled with love, even as a tiny, distant, shadowy corner of my mind rebelled at the illicitness of this act, this love.

Yet this was a love which had been destined since well before birth, and this love felt true.

*****

Laying upon my stomach, my big brother's hands were underneath my chest, each hand violently squeezing an aching breast. Using my chest as leverage, he humped me rapidly once again, allowing his full weight to crush me and practically force the air from my lungs.

There was no shame in his actions, as evidenced by the loud grunts in my ear. There was no shame in my actions, as evidenced by the occasional cries barely muffled by a pillow. There was no shame in our actions, as evidenced by the raucous noise of the thankfully-sturdy bed.

With a roar of triumph, he unleashed his love between us, his fingernails seemingly piercing through the well-worn flannel material to bruise my tender feminine flesh and cause me to howl as well. And when it had ended, when he had no more to give, he collapsed upon me, smothering me wonderfully.

Neither of us returned to sleep that night. We simply lay there, enjoying each other's company, and reveling in each other's unadulterated, forbidden love.