Cottage Life


And so it’s all different now.

I’ve been fucked by my brother.

I’ve got to write that again.

My brother and I have been making love.

Either way it sounds weird, though I guess the second way is more true than the first way, because I sort of really wanted to make love in a strange kind of way. But it was fucking, nonetheless. He put his cock in my cunt. And loads of his spunk went inside me and all down my legs.

And not just my cunt. He did my arse, too. And I also sucked his cock. That was actually weirder than the fucking. That was because I was actually right up against a bit of my brother’s anatomy I don’t usually see real close. And it wasn’t like when I suck Sam’s cock. And not just because it sort of smelt and tasted differently. And a different shape. Slightly longer. Slightly thinner. It was just having it so close to your nose and eyes and everything. With those hairy bollocks just underneath, which were so tender and hard at the same time. I dunno. It was just weird. And even while I was sucking him. And when he fucked me. I was thinking that this is not right. But it was because it wasn’t what you should do that got my pussy so dripping wet. I don’t think I’ve come as much as I did today since … since … well, I can’t remember.

Certainly not that first time after school when I was fourteen. It was sort of all over before it had really got started. Perhaps the most like it was at that orgy I went to with Sam and PB in Bromley that time. The only time I ever kissed a girl. Though I’m not a lesbian. I didn’t fancy her at all. And there were loads of weird drugs at that orgy. Cocaine and speed and stuff. Not just acid and dope. But today there was just a bit of dope, and no more than the usual amount.

It was bound to happen though. I could tell at breakfast when Sam and Bill looked at me funny when I came in, still dripping wet after having a shower, my long hair tied up in a towel and my pubic hairs sort of fluffed up.

“You look gorgeous, Dot!” said Bill appreciatively.

Well, Bill’s never said anything like that to me before at breakfast, and he’s seen me nude ever so often.

And it wasn’t long, until after a couple of joints while listening to my favourite LP, ‘Forever Changes’ by Love, that Bill finally broached the subject. And he was uncharacteristically subtle.

“You’re a real pretty chick, Dot. I think I fancy you, in fact. I know it sounds weird, but you know you got really pretty tits. And your face. Well, it’s like a symphony. Or something. I think…”

“Oh! Shut up, Bill!” I said. I knew he was going to say something like this. When I was sleeping with Sam the night before, I’d been thinking about my brother all by himself in the other bedroom, I was thinking about it. And I thought ‘why not?’ It’s not going to kill someone or anything. And the modern age is about shedding all those inhibitions that fuck you up. Bill’s a guy. And he’s got a cock. And I’m a chick. And I’ve got a cunt. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Then I did what I suppose I’d half meant to do yesterday. I grabbed his balls, which were on display as always, and his prick was a little bit stiff anyway, well, rubbery stiff, not rod-like stiff, and knelt down in front of him and started sucking him off. It’s called a ‘blow job’ in America, I think. But like all American sayings, it doesn’t make much sense, because you don’t blow on the cock at all. You sort of gobble at it. Though I suppose it sorts of blows out its spunk on your face if you’re not careful. And then things all went the way they always do when you start getting horny. You don’t give a fuck about anything other than giving yourself pleasure and, in a funny way, pleasure to the other person.

Sam stayed out of the way. In fact, he told us later that after he’d finished the joint he’d previously been sharing with all of us, and then smoked a couple of his own fags, he actually went out for a walk in the fields. To look at the lakes and write poems and stuff. But I don’t think either Bill or I really noticed whether he was there or not. We got really into each other.

It was like opening a box of chocolates that you thought was really meant for someone else. And then getting as much out of it as possible. I wanted to show my older brother what I’d learnt. And not just with Sam, which he’d already know about, but with the other guys I’ve slept with. Like that guy who taught me where to put my finger just under the balls to stop a guy spunking too soon. And, of course, how I’d learnt to use my muscles inside to sort of grip on cocks inside me, to give them a bit of extra jizz. It’s a different set of muscles for the arse as for the cunt, but I sometimes get them mixed up even though it’s obvious which hole is being penetrated.

Bill didn’t really show me anything I hadn’t seen before. I guess Sam would have learnt about anything new from Bill anyway and he’d have already taught me it. Especially the trick of getting the anus ready so that when he entered it was already lubricated. Some people use butter, but spit and pussy-juice is usually good enough. But when I looked at Bill in the face, or even in the cock, it was obvious that what was important about all this wasn’t so much what we were doing, but the fact we were doing it together.

And eventually, it was over. I was well and truly shagged. I haven’t kept it going for so many hours for ages. Well, not with only one guy, anyway. And we were just sort of lying on the sheepskin rug on the lounge floor in front of the gas fire, when Sam passed us a huge seven-skinner he’d put together.

“Looks like you’ll need this!” he said.

And he was right.

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