Lesson Plan Ch. 02

Afterward, back in the changing room as I got dressed, I heard a sound that took a split second to register. Once it did, though, it sent ice rocketing right up my spine. I flew to the door and pried it open just enough to peek out.

In that instant, the last few months re-wrote themselves into a nightmare. The muffled sneeze had come from my brother Daniel. It was Daniel waving goodbye to Dr. Drew and quietly letting himself out of her office.

It was my brother who had just fucked me in the ass. I stood there, utterly shocked and dumbfounded, all the while still feeling the slight ache in me there, where his penis had been.

And then it all replayed vividly and horrifyingly in my mind. It was my brother I had touched, and who had touched me so intimately. It was my brother who had come in my mouth.

I was just sick: almost physically so. I quickly finished dressing and stormed out of Dr. Drew's office, muttering, "fuck, fuck, fuck," and not saying goodbye.

And for days the only thing I could remember was the bitter taste of my brother's sticky thick semen, and not the warm little gestures of tenderness and affection that had made me think I was falling in love with a mysterious dark-haired man. I'm sure I was blocking those things out of my mind.

I took some slight comfort in one thing: Daniel didn't know that I knew. I don't think I could have faced him again otherwise. I kept my distance from him in the ensuing days, as I let the chaos inside try to work its way out of me.

And against my better judgment, I agreed to see Victor again.

After only our second date, I let him take me to bed. Looking back, I can now see all of the signs that it was too soon.

There had never been anything in particular about Victor that had really drawn me to him, and his boorishness on our first date really should have been the end of it.

I'm sure that what happened with Daniel was pushing me into this. It was some kind of way to wash all of that out of my past. But I was also feeling sexy and confident about all that I had learned, even if I had learned it with Daniel.

The foreplay that night was certainly nothing special -- Victor groped uninspiringly between my legs while I teased his cock to a solid erection and playfully put the condom I had brought onto him.

Then he entered me a little too soon and came with, frankly, surprising speed. There was nothing in it for me -- I was barely even to the point of sufficient lubrication.

Then, like the cliché that he was, he rolled over and dozed. I grabbed my clothes and slipped into the bathroom to dress, and I left.

At home later that night, I was frustrated and restless. I rolled over and took my trusty pink friend from the drawer in my nightstand, and rolled it over in my hand. But I realized that sex wasn't the answer to my frustration and, in fact, I really wanted nothing to do with sex just then.

The hardest part of it all, I think, was coming to grips with the fact that my brother wanted me. That he loved me not just as the brother who had taken care of me all of those years, but in an unthinkable, forbidden way.

I thought of all of the times I had strolled around his house without a care, early in the morning or at night before bed, wearing nothing but the long white T-shirt that I usually slept in.

And I knew that he noticed my legs, although he never said so. I had always chalked it up to the fact that all men notice.

As time went by, I thought, too, of the way he had held me, and placed a kiss on my thigh, and how his tender gestures like that, even in the moments after he'd just climaxed, had sure seemed at the time to add such depth and such warmth to the physical acts.

At the time, of course. Back then, before I knew.

But there came to be more and more nights alone, when I had at last regained something like my normal desires and had started masturbating again now and then, that those tender gestures would play over and over in my mind.

One such night, I took my little pink friend from the drawer and I turned on my radio to mask the noise of the vibrator. It was playing Billy Joel's "Always a Woman," and the song had never sounded quite so lovely to me as it did just then.

As the music played, I lifted up the hem of my flimsy thin nightdress and I practiced just holding the vibrator against me and trying not to climax. As it began to weave its sensations into me, I let my fantasies run wild.

In my fantasy, I was giving oral sex to my lover, giving everything I could for his lovely thick manhood. And just when I noticed the birthmark on this lovely thick penis, the man in my fantasy came in me, and the real me, alone there in bed, came hard just then, too.

As I let the physical sensations subside, my thoughts tumbled louder and faster. My fantasy was Daniel. My dark-haired man. My big brother.

I lay there for a while longer and remembered what was, without a doubt, the best orgasm in my life. It was the one he had given me just as I was swallowing his, the time that I had removed his condom. Thinking back on it now, the little gasp that he gave then had whole new meaning.

And I thought about the feelings I'd discovered as I went through the lessons. The way that physical intimacy was a dangerous thing to toy with, because it was such a powerful connection of two spirits. How the little unbidden gestures of tender affection were the warm coals that burned, not brightest, but longest. To focus on giving, and let the rest happen.

I was past anger at his deception now. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be with someone who wanted me. Being wanted made me want him just that much more.

I left my vibrator on the edge of the bed and, smoothing down the hem of my nightdress, I slipped quietly into his room. He was sound asleep.

I hesitated there for a moment, taking a silent deep breath to be sure I wanted what I was about to do.

As softly as I could, I lifted the covers and slid into his bed. I smiled to find that my big brother slept in the nude.

Moving gently, I cuddled up against his bare back, and placing one leg onto his, I pressed myself lightly against him down there. I could feel my lingering wetness touching his warm backside.

He moved then. At first with a start, but then he relaxed. Still, there was surprise in his voice when he spoke my name.

There is simply no other way to say this: he was flummoxed. I swear to you I've never used that word before in my life, but there it is. It fits. He was.

Flummoxed.

"Um, Jane, you do realize that you're, uh, touching me and that you're, you know...."

"Wet," I finished his thought.

"Yes, I know," I went on. "I just had a wonderful orgasm."

I waited barely an instant to let that sink in for him. I reached around him and started stroking his penis. "And I found I was imagining this," and I gave him a squeeze.

He rolled over to face me in bed. He was smiling.

I caught his groping hands before they could reach my body, and I held them between us. "You know, I was mad as hell at you -- furious -- for the way that you tricked me. I just wish there had been some other way. But, you know, I guess I can see that there probably wasn't."

Having gotten that part out, I released one of his hands, and I used my free hand to trace around one of his nipples, and on down his belly, and then down to his sex.

I resumed stroking him, feeling the familiar thickness of his now-full erection.

"I'll just bet you want me to take this thing off," I teased, looking down at my nightdress.

"Uh-huh," he moaned softly as the sensations I was giving him were making his hips start to writhe.

"Well, you're just going to have to wait a bit longer, mister," I said with mock sternness. As I had seen him do, that time when I watched him masturbate, I shifted my fingers down lower on his shaft and over his testicles when I thought he was getting too close to an orgasm.

Then, as I felt him relax, I moved back up and worked my thumb across his most sensitive spot.

"You've been the one in control for entirely too long," I went on, as I continued bringing him closer to coming, and then bringing him back down.

"You have seen my little shaved crotch before, haven't you, big brother?"

He was breathing heavily now, but he nodded his answer.

Just barely tracing my fingernail from his testicles, and up his thick shaft, I whispered, "but I don't think you've ever seen my boobs before, have you?"

He managed a moan that sounded something like "No."

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"

I squeezed the base of his shaft gently, feeling how thoroughly hard he was then, and he nodded again.

I waited for him to relax even more. I wanted him hard, but nowhere near coming when I finally took him.

"Daniel," I said as I stroked that familiar thick flesh, "I don't know where it all leads. I just know where I want to be right now. Thank you for letting me learn that lesson."

I let go of him and pulled off my nightdress, and then, crawling up against him, our naked bodies pressed fully together, I kissed him.

And yes, we made love. And yes, oh yes, it was good. I came just from having him deep inside me with no curtains, no blindfolds, no deception. And as I sensed him rising to the point of his own climax, I grasped his hips firmly and leaned my face up to his ear.

As I whispered "I love you," I felt him climax inside me, and heard him moaning my name.

I awoke hours later, still in his bed, still in his arms. He was hard again.