A Sinful Journey

I often look back fondly, remembering the night that would change my life forever. The night that I learned that there's no clear line that separates right from wrong. Just because there are things that are accepted as being wrong, without question, doesn't mean there are no exceptions. Until that night, I believed what society teaches us as being right or wrong. But that's all changed. Now, I often question the origins of society's "acceptable behavior rules". I have discovered recently that many of those "rules" conflict with sections of the Holy Bible, possibly introduced much later by some King or Emperor, just to take another bit of free will away from the masses. This theory gains credibility when it's revealed that many of these "rules" explicitly excluded those in power from having to conform. That night, I stopped conforming.

My son and daughter had gone to bed, and once again I was settling down to watch a little television. I chose to lie on the long couch, rather than one of the reclining armchairs. From my comfortable position, I had an unhindered view of the screen. I was also able, with a slight shift of my eyes, to gaze upon the brother that, until recently, had been almost a stranger to me.

At 45, Rob was eleven years my senior. For some unknown reason, our parents had waited a full ten years before having another child, Darren, and then me a year later. Growing up, Rob was always out with friends his own age, leaving Darren and I to play our "little kids games", as he liked to put it. I was only eight years old when Rob left home. His sudden departure only alienated him from me further. Not that we had ever been close. There was never any closeness in our family.

It had always seemed strange to me, to see a girl hug her brother or father, then kiss him gently on the cheek. Surely, this was something that "normal families" just didn't do? What secret horror had filled this family with the uncontrollable urge to display such intimacy? I had never seen any such displays between members of my family. In fact, I can't remember ever hearing any one of my family members tell another that they love them. Feelings were something we always kept to ourselves. Looking back, it's not too surprising that I never really knew my eldest brother.

It was a little more than six months ago that Rob needed somewhere to stay, after his marriage hit a fatal snag. I lived in a four bedroom house with my son and daughter. Mikey was ten and Aleisha, at eight, was two years younger. I had never married, and took much pride in my efforts to raise my children alone. It was going to be strange, having a man living in the house, but it would only be until he was back on his feet. And so, I offered Rob the use of our spare room for as long as he needed it.

For the first couple days, Rob spent much of his time alone in his room, but I saw the sadness in his eyes when he did come out. On his third day with us, he come from his room looking somewhat more "at peace" and asked if I would mind letting him cook dinner for the four of us that night. I had no idea whether my big brother could cook or not, but if it would help take his mind off things, I wasn't going to object. Besides, if the kids and I don't like it, I'd just order pizza. Rob said that he'd need to buy a few ingredients for the meal, and went out shopping. When he returned, he asked that he have the kitchen completely to himself, until dinner time.

That night, my kids and I had a true dining experience, the likes of which none of us had ever imagined. Rob had prepared an exquisite, three-course, restaurant-quality meal. The appetizer he served was a smoked salmon, chives and cream cheese log. A single, inch-thick slice of the exquisitely presented log was served accompanied by home-made cracker biscuits, cleverly shaped like little fish. It was the perfect appetizer; it stimulated both the appetite and the taste buds.

The main course was oven-roasted fillet of beef (cooked to perfection) served with a red wine reduction and crisp, steamed, seasonal vegetables. The beef had been stuffed with a garlic and spinach puree. While the puree provided a contrasting texture to the beef, the flavor of the garlic complimented and enhanced the beef. The vegetables were crisp green beans, button squash (both green and gold varieties), and sweet baby corn. Nothing fancy here. The vegetables had simply been steamed, then artistically arranged in a manner that drew the diner's eye to the thickly-sliced beef, the rightful focal-point of the dish

The meal ended with a wonderful dessert of individual passion fruit soufflés, straight from the oven and beautifully risen. My one attempt at a soufflé, ten or more years ago, had been an unmitigated disaster. I had vowed to never risk such a disaster again. Now, here was my brother, a "he-man, construction worker type", producing a perfect example. Garnished with a sprig of mint and dusted with icing sugar, this was a dessert you might expect to find on the dinner menus of some of the more elegant restaurants of Europe.

After dinner, I was amazed when the kids got up to do the dishes, without any prompting from me.

I winked at Rob and said aloud, "I can't remember that ever happening before."

I thanked him for the beautiful meal, adding, "I had no idea you were such a great cook".

He told me that he had always found cooking to be therapeutic. Getting into the kitchen and letting his creativity take over, often took his mind off of his troubles, and seeing other people enjoying the fruits of his labor was a huge boost to his self esteem. Of course, his love of fine food was a factor. Apparently, after nineteen years of marriage, his wife still managed to turn excellent ingredients into unpalatable poison.

We sat there, talking, until I had grown so tired that I almost fell from my chair, asleep. I learned a lot about my big brother that night. This night had been the first conversation, lasting more than a few minutes, that I had ever had with my brother. Yet, after little more than an hour, the stranger in my house had my deepest admiration and respect.

To come to terms with the sudden demise of a nineteen year marriage, most men would probably take weeks, even months, just to get over the initial shock. Yet, on Rob's third day apart from his wife, he was smiling, appeared confident, and he was displaying the unmistakable signs of a positive, healthy attitude. Without a doubt, the most surprising thing I learned that night, was that I was more comfortable talking to Rob than anyone I had ever known. Everything about him told me that my big brother was an incredibly caring person. I couldn't help but feel proud of him at that moment.

And, also on that third night, Rob learned a few things he never knew about me. In fact, he taught me something about myself that I couldn't have believed before. I had always been a very private person, preferring to keep my problems to myself. Not surprisingly, I had suffered depression and low self-esteem for most of my adult life. I knew it wasn't healthy to suppress things like I did, but I could never bring myself to open up to anybody. Just the thought of speaking to any sort of therapist, would set me on a downward spiral into depression. Yet that night, I calmly confided a few of the problems that I had faced over the years. More importantly, I learned that I could talk about my pain, after all.

Over the next two months, Rob proved to be an asset around the house. He continued to demonstrate his exceptional culinary skills by cooking dinner twice a week or more. Often, on nights when he wasn't cooking the meal, he'd offer to prepare a nice dessert for everyone. Like everything that Rob cooked, his desserts were exquisite. A treat, not only for the taste buds, but the eyes as well. Many of his dessert creations were the result of being clever with what was at hand, his understanding of flavors and his artistic skill, ensuring a taste sensation that never failed to look delicious. We never declined his offers to create one of his desserts for our indulgence.

I soon learned that cooking wasn't Rob's only talent. I was amazed to learn that my brother was a man that had an incredible amount of knowledge, on a seemingly-endless range of topics. He was like a living encyclopedia. The kids and I tested him sometimes, by digging up obscure questions to see if he had the answer. He was rarely wrong. Yet he couldn't explain where all this knowledge came from. He had left school as soon as the law allowed, he'd never been much of a scholar anyway. He rarely read any kind of books, newspapers or magazines. It was something of a mystery.

While helping Mikey and Aleisha with homework, he had an amazing knack for guiding them to find their own answers. After only a couple weeks of their uncle's help, both clearly began to enjoy the research aspect of their homework. Rob had shown his nephew and niece that research should be treated like a treasure hunt. When they found the answers, they had found the treasure, and they would be rewarded with good marks for their work.

I noticed a change in the way Mikey and Aleisha (and myself, for that matter) interacted with each other. We were all eager pull our own weight with the household chores, even happy to do someone else's share when needed. The teasing that usually went on between the kids had almost completely ceased. What little teasing still went on was playful and friendly, usually with both kids laughing about it together. We had even begun to show our love for each other with warm hugs and good-night kisses. My kids started telling me that they loved me, and I found myself returning the sentiment.

Rob's attitude to life was beginning to rub off on us all. Everything my brother did, he did with such an enthusiasm. An enthusiasm fuelled by the feelings of pride and joy he knew would fill him when he reached his goal. Fuelled by the warmth he knew he would get when he saw somebody else take some small pleasure from his efforts. It was incredible just how much my life, and the lives of my kids, had been enriched by the presence of a brother that had always been somewhat of a stranger to me.

Which is why, when he said that he was ready to find a place of his own, I asked him if he'd consider staying. I told him that I and the kids loved having him around, and that he was a much-loved member of our family. I couldn't help but notice the tears welling in his eyes, as he told me that he'd love to stay for as long as he was welcome. For the first time in my life, I hugged my big brother, told him that I loved him, and kissed his cheek. That's when I saw the tears streaming down his face. I learned, much later, that Rob's marriage had been much like that of our parents, bereft of any kind of affection.

Over the next four months, I became increasingly comfortable talking to Rob. He and I would often sit down, after the kids had gone to bed, and have a deep-and-meaningful. We soon discovered that, in many cases, we'd had similar experiences. Rob could relate some bad memory from his life, and I would know exactly how it had affected him. I could confide some painful moment, and Rob knew my pain. We often spoke about our hopes and dreams.

We even asked each others' advice on very embarrassing or personal matters. In fact, lately we had begun speaking openly about sexual matters. We told each other things that we knew we'd never tell a soul about, revealing our most intimate thoughts without fear of being judged. Once, we spent hours describing the things we each liked our lovers to do for us, and what positions we liked most. It made me so wet to discover that Rob and I both had a strong preference for fucking doggy-style. I shocked myself, when I described, in graphic detail, just how I liked my clit to be licked and sucked. Maybe it was due to the tingling in my clit, but I made a point of telling my brother that I totally loved to have a cock in my mouth. His reply, a deep sensual moan, caused an image to form in my head. I needed, desperately, to masturbate that night, and wouldn't have been surprised if Rob did, also. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I'd glimpsed one or two subtle, erotic gestures from Rob that night.

Later, when I felt the orgasm starting to build, between the moans and sighs, the words came from my lips, "I want to suck big brother's cock like it's never been sucked before."

And my primal lust was fed, as my body exploded in orgasmic delight.

At times, when I looked at Rob, I found myself thinking, "I'd fuck him right here on the floor, if only he weren't my brother."

Some nights, if I was feeling "naughty", I'd slip on a loose, low-cut top, omitting the bra altogether. I'd take every opportunity to give Rob an "accidental" flash of my breasts. One time, I was pleased to see that his gaze was upon me, or should I say, my cleavage.

I teased, "Getting a good look?"

At seeing Rob's embarrassment, I said, "Don't blush, they're only tits. See...."

I lifted my top as I moved to Rob quickly, pulling his face into my bare, ample breasts. I moved away, adjusting my top to once again cover my chest. The expression on his face made me laugh out loud. I had expected to shock or excite my brother, but he responded, instead, with humor. He later joked (at least, I think it was a joke) that he'd be thinking of those tits when he got the chance to "take matters into his own hands".

And so, I found myself lying on the couch, watching television, occasionally gazing with something more than admiration at the brother that I had come to love. Just looking at him filled me with the memories of the past six months. Six of the most wonderful months of my life. Six beautiful months of a life that grew a little more perfect each day.

Then I felt the shame sweep over me as I recalled my sinful actions just two nights before. The kids had been in bed for hours, and Rob said he was going to take a shower before turning in for the night. My thoughts turned to Rob.

"If only he weren't my brother," I thought.

I began to wonder if his body was as taut as it looked beneath the heavy cotton work shirts that he preferred to wear. I tried to imagine how he'd look, if he ever took his shirt off. I wondered how I might be able to get him to take his shirt off.

I smiled cunningly, as a wickedly-naughty thought entered my mind. I steal take a quick look at his unclad body through the bathroom's keyhole. I didn't even debate the morality of it. I just made my way quickly to the bathroom door. Excitedly, I knelt at the bathroom door, bringing my eye to the old-fashioned keyhole. From the keyhole, I could see straight through the glass door of the shower cubicle where Rob stood, the water running down over his naked body.

He was leaning slightly forward, his left hand against the tiles for support. His right hand was firmly wrapped around... ......... the biggest, most beautiful "pussy-pleaser" I'd ever seen. My hand went instantly to my hungry twat, as I felt the wetness flood my pussy. As I watched, I rubbed my throbbing clit in time to Rob's strokes on his huge manhood. When I saw him beginning to increase speed, I plunged two fingers deep into my hole and began to finger-fuck myself furiously. The sight of my brother's sperm shooting from his amazing cock quickly brought me quickly to orgasm.

Later, as I lay on my bed, I couldn't believe what I had done. I had secretly watched my own brother masturbating, and had become so filled with lust that I couldn't stop myself from doing the same. I quietly moved away from the keyhole and went to sit alone in my room. I sat for what seemed an eternity, quietly admonishing myself for my unforgivable behavior. Then, without warning, my mind was filled with the image of Rob's hard, ten inch cock. I spent the next several hours masturbating while fantasizing about having that penis thrusting into my dripping cunt. My energy completely drained after countless orgasms, I allowed myself to drift off to sleep, exhausted.

Over the next two days, I spent most of my time masturbating with my thoughts - Rob's rock-hard love muscle pounding my forbidden fuck hole. I even took out the long-abandoned, ten inch toy from my bedside drawer. I had decided soon after I got it, that the size made it impractical. But the length and girth of the toy was damned nearly identical to the size of Rob's erect meat. This toy added just a hint of realism to the incestuous orgy being played out in my mind. By the end of each day, my bed was soaked clear through to the mattress with my pussy juices.

And now, laying face-down on the couch, I became aware of the dampness of my panties. After the workout I'd given my cunt that day, I couldn't believe that I was still as horny as hell. I slowly and quietly moved my right hand, hidden beneath me, going inside the waistband of my panties and down, to gently rub my sensitive clit. It took an enormous effort to keep myself from squirming too much, but it was so exciting knowing that I was actually masturbating, with Rob sitting just a few feet away.

The possibility of bringing myself to orgasm, within a few feet of my unsuspecting big brother, excited me very much. What I hadn't realized, was that lately, I'd been unable to stay in control, lust and desire transforming me into a sex-crazed animal. My mind seemed to fill with sheer turmoil, interspersed with images of my brother, helpless as I performed various acts of sexual depravity, his body nothing but a toy to be used for my perverted pleasures. Suddenly, some remaining trace of reality reached my mind, making me aware that Rob was staring, open-mouthed, in my direction. I also realized that my body was thrashing wildly, grinding my pubic mound hard into the two cum-drenched hands that were now inside my panties. I froze. Then, after what seemed an eternity, I ran wordlessly from the room, my face red from embarrassment.

I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face in the pillows. I heard Rob's voice, asking me if I was okay. I began to sob as I tried to mutter an apology. I felt my bed move as my brother sat beside me. He stroked my hair and said that I had nothing to be sorry for.

"You're a normal woman with normal needs. You just lost track of your surroundings. I should apologize to you. I shouldn't have stared like I did. I'm so very sorry I did that. I should have just slipped quietly out of the room to give you some privacy."

I sat up and threw my arms around my brother.

"There's more to it than that," I confessed.

Concern was all I saw in Rob's eyes as I sheepishly confessed to spying on him two nights before. I hung my head as I told him that I hadn't been able to stop fantasizing about him since.

"You must think I'm sick," I sobbed, "having such thoughts about my own brother."

He hugged me tight and kissed me gently on the forehead.

"I don't think you're sick at all. Truth is, the thought of you and I having sex, is such a turn-on. Hearing what we do together in your fantasies left me with a raging hard-on. I'm not ashamed to admit that, by the time we're finished talking, I'll have to attend to my own needs. And my mind will definitely be filled with images of you and me, doing depraved things to each other, breaking all the rules."

Rob's honesty began to erode the embarrassment I'd been so overwhelmed with. I tenderly kissed his lips, telling him that I loved him. I kissed him again, this time more passionately, my tongue brushing his lips lightly. I looked into his eyes before kissing him once more. This time he responded, our tongues eagerly exploring each others mouth. I let my hand slide down to his hip, then over to his inner thigh. Soon, I could feel the unmistakable shape of his erect cock beneath my hand. My pussy was on fire, as I began to caress my brother's rock-hard dick through his clothes. Giving in to my forbidden desire, I gazed longingly into his eyes and asked him to make love to me. He hesitated briefly, asking if I was sure I wanted to do this, knowing that it was supposed to be so very wrong. He got my answer when I began to unbuckle his belt. He promised that he'd never hurt me, and then allowed himself to be consumed by the same desire that had already taken me so completely.