I’ve never spoken to anyone about what happened that summer, the summer in Italy . Not Cathy, my closest friend. Certainly not my family, although I tried so, so many times to find the courage to tell my sister, thinking, hoping she might understand. But she wouldn’t. My husband? No. It would kill him. It would be the end of us.
Not even him. My brother… there, I said it. My brother. God, my little brother. What happened scares me. He scares me. No, that’s not right. We
So it’s time that I write it all down. Now, before I go crazy. Where do I begin? Italy ? Intoxicating, sun drenched Italy. Up north, where you can see the snow-crested Alps from Lago Maggiore on a clear day.
Gerry was laughing as he pressed the accelerator of our rented Fiat to the floor. The two of us were on the Autostrade, on our way into Milan. The windows were down and the sunroof was open. Warm, dry wind ripped through the cabin, mangling our hair and wrecking our maps. I could barely hear the radio over the rushing air. My brother had only gotten his driver’s license a month earlier back in North Carolina. Against my better judgment, I let him take the wheel, once we had gotten past Varese. My judgment, it turns out, was more than a little off that entire trip.
“Gerry, you’re doing almost 150 kilometers per hour.” I yelled.
“Excellent,” Gerry glanced at the speedometer and knitted his brow. He seemed determined to beat the cheap little car to pieces. “How fast is that in American?”
“Slowwww dowwwwn!” In American? What an idiot.
Rolling his eyes, he eased off the gas. He turned to me with that big grin of his, white teeth lighting up his suntanned face.
“Don’t call me that; I hate it,” I shifted in my seat, pressing my back against the door, to face him. “Better… at least now we can talk.”
I saw my kid brother steal a quick glance at my legs. What a hound , I thought. Maybe these jean shorts aren’t right for a trip to the city.
“Eyes on the road,” I warned him. “I want to hear more about your college visits.”
Gerry was a three sport athlete in high school. Baseball wasn’t his favorite sport but, when his fastball was clocked at nearly 90 mph last season, the college scouts began calling. Now, at only seventeen and entering his senior year, he had some big decisions to make.
We came from an athletic family. Our dad and uncle swam for the Irish Olympic team back in the Dark Ages. My sister and I had been collegiate swimmers as well. Sheila held some conference records. Mom had run track in high school and looked like she could still turn in a decent mile.
I thought about our day at the lake yesterday, Gerry cutting through the water with long, smooth, powerful strokes. His sinewy 6’ 3” body was literally born to swim, I thought. Yet he had abruptly stopped competing at age fourteen, in favor of team sports. My father didn’t talk to him for a week.
“You know,” I said, apropos of nothing. “You could have been a great swimmer.”
Gerry turned to me, looking over the top of his retro Ray Bans. “I am
a great swimmer.”
I laughed at his brashness and swagger. Idiot, I thought again. Cute… but an idiot.
I was spending a few weeks with my parents and brother. My husband is a US naval officer and his ship was part of a NATO training exercise in the Mediterranean. My parents paid for my flight and I hoped to rendezvous once or twice with Ted when his ship put in at ports of call. We had been married for a little over a year. I was twenty-four that summer and he was eight years older.
My mother had inherited some property in Italy from her aunt and she had to be there to sign papers and settle the estate. My parents decided to make a vacation out of the trip. My brother begged to be left home to play in a summer league, but they were not about to leave him alone for a month. The plan was for me to spend a couple of weeks with them and keep Gerry out of trouble.
They were staying in the quaint old house my mom had inherited. It was in a little town on Lake Como . It is hard to imagine a more beautiful setting. Lush green hills, dotted with red terra cotta roofs, tumbled down to the blue water. Ancient villages dotted the irregular shore line. It was as if time had forgotten this corner of the world.
So while my parents were busy with lawyers and magistrates, or visiting with my mother’s family, Gerry and I would sometimes strike out on our own. We rode the train into Switzerland, took in museums in Milan, and spent long afternoons together on the lake. I spoke a little Italian and there always seemed to be someone around who understood English.
Being seven years older than my brother, it had been a long time since I had left for college and I enjoyed getting to know him again. I especially liked torturing him with questions about his love life, or lack of it. Despite his prowess on the field, my brother hadn’t made a lot of progress in the romance department. He’d only had one girlfriend and it sounded like she wasn’t ready to go beyond feverish make out sessions and light petting. Bro was one frustrated Tar Heel.
I was reading on the bedroom terrace to the light of a small lamp when Gerry came back from a long evening run. The sun had begun to set and I idly wondered if he had gotten lost out there.
The house had only two bedrooms so the two of us had to share a bed. Although I complained, I really didn’t mind. I secretly enjoyed watching the young athlete traipse helplessly around in his underwear every morning, looking for his tee shirt or jeans. He was just my brother but there was something nice about having him next to me when I fell asleep at night. I liked how he smelled and I liked listening to his long, regular breaths when he drifted off.
He was shirtless now, his chest and back dripping, his shorts darkened with sweat.
“Man, great run,” He puffed, pulling off his running shoes without bothering with the laces. “You should’ve come. There was some kind of concert down on the lake. What’re you doing out here?”
“ Reading , genius. Hey, make sure you throw those disgusting shorts and socks in the hamper,” I said. “And get in the bath. I don’t need a smelly boy in my bed tonight.”
Gerry shrugged, peeled down to a pair of skimpy compression shorts and headed for the bathroom. Nice buns, I thought. In a minute I heard the squeak of the faucet and the sound of water splashing into the tub. The old house had never been modernized with such amenities as showers. The plumbing in general was pretty sketchy.
When I heard the water stop, I knew it was safe to get undressed for bed. I removed my shorts, shirt, and bra, grabbed a big sleeveless tee shirt from Gerry’s drawer, and pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my panties. I had a habit of wearing clothes belonging to the men I’ve known. In retrospect, maybe it was my way of marking them.
“Okay to come in?” I asked, rapping on the bathroom door.
“Yep. Just me and my bubbles.”
Gerry’s head was propped on the back of the tub with a wet cloth over his face. With muscled arms draped on the sides and one knee rising from the bubbles, he looked like a god damned GQ ad. Jesus, it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid, I thought. We made small talk while I brushed my teeth and washed my face.
I glanced at him in the mirror and saw that he had removed the face cloth and was looking me over. I decided to have a little fun. I walked over to the tub, put my feet in the warm water, and sat on the edge. I must have known at the time I was playing with fire. I should have just turned around and left.
“S’matter? Don’t like me wearing your stuff?”
“Well, no… I mean, its fine.” He looked down at the surface of the water.
“Don’t worry, I can’t see anything through those bubbles.”
I leaned over the water to reach for a bar of soap, knowing he could see my pointy little tits through the arm hole of the oversized shirt. I knew it was wrong, but letting him see me made me feel tingly. I know that everything that happened from that point forward was completely my fault.
“My feet are filthy from walking around on that terrace.”
I crossed one ankle onto my knee and soaped up my size eight, repeating the maneuver with the opposite foot.
“So Thursday is pink panties day?” Gerry was smiling at me, pointing to my crotch with his eyes.
“Shit head,” I said splashing a handful of soapy water in his face.
I stepped out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and headed for the door. My heart was racing and I knew I had taken my sexy little game too far. I decided to get in bed and play with myself.
“I’m gonna read in bed,” I said over my shoulder. “Later, bro.”
It must have been one, maybe two in the morning. I reluctantly opened one sleepy eye a crack and noted that the moon had risen high. Pale light poured in through windows and terrace doors, painting the room a ghostly hue. Something had stirred me. What was it? Yes… there it was, something warmly, softly grazing my bottom. It moved over my cotton undies from one cheek to the other, soooo slowly. Mmmmm that’s nice, I thought. I began to drift away when… wait. Gerry was in bed with me. I was being fondled by my brother!
I was lying on my stomach, arms under my pillow, head turned toward the windows. I couldn’t see him but, now more awake, I felt deliberate movements to my left. I didn’t know how to handle this. I did not want a scene. If I just pretend to be asleep, I thought, maybe he’ll be satisfied with the free feel and leave it at that. I tried to breathe evenly so as not to give myself away.
But his exploration continued. He seemed bolder now, squeezing each cheek ever so slightly as his roaming hand moved back and forth. I had to admit it felt good, despite my alarm. I caught myself stupidly wondering if he liked my ass, if he appreciated all the working out I did. Get a grip, I told myself. If he stopped now, there would be no harm done. It would be as if this never happened.
Of course, he didn’t stop. His hand eventually paused right over my crack and I felt a finger, the middle one I guessed, probe carefully between my cheeks. The direction of movement was up and down now. I don’t know why I did it, instinct I suppose, but I pushed my right knee out toward the edge of the bed. Idiot! Gerry froze. I sensed his entire body tighten. He was afraid he had awoken me. It’s about time, I thought. Maybe this was over.
It wasn’t over. After about a minute, Gerry decided I was still asleep. My leg shift had opened up new territory and he seemed bound to inspect it. The finger boldly moved down over the crotch of my panties and tenderly traced the outline of my groove. Up and down it moved, feather soft. God, he must be horny, I thought, to risk this. I knew I was getting turned on as well and worried that he would feel moisture through the flimsy material. Just stay calm and breathe, I reminded myself; he can’t do much more without completely blowing it.
That’s when his finger slipped under the elastic. That’s it! I hopped onto my butt and snapped on the lamp in one motion.
“Gerry! What’re you DOING?!”
He stared at me in shock. I almost laughed at the expression on his face. He had bounced onto his knees in the commotion, throwing the sheet off our bed.
“I… I… unngh,” He dropped his head resignedly. “I’m sorry.”
He sank back and studied his hands, speechless. Upset as I was, I felt terrible at the sight of my proud, beautiful brother, bowed and humbled. A pang of guilt stabbed me.
“I never meant… I don’t…” he mumbled, not looking at me.
“Listen, it’s okay. You didn’t really do anything,” I said shakily, knees drawn to my chest. “I won’t say anything. It’s between us.”
I reached over and pulled up his chin. He looked at me with big, brown, glassy eyes.
“I’m not a prude, you know. And I do remember what seventeen year old boys are like,” I tried to say calmly. “Besides, this is entirely my fault.”
“Wh... what do you mean?”
“I mean,” I said, exhaling deeply. “I mean… I’ve been toying with you all week. And tonight, in the bath? I went over the line. I let you see my boobs on purpose. It made me feel, I don’t know, sexy. I’m sorry.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “You’re sorry?”
“Hey, you’re not out of trouble yet,” I said, giving him a playful slap on the face. "Besides, don't you guys jerk off all the time? You know... so you don't wind up fondling unsuspecting women in their sleep?"
I was happy that the tension had come down a notch. Maybe some frank talk would defuse a potentially explosive situation.
“Uh, well, there isn’t exactly a lot of privacy around here,” he said, red-faced. “I mean, it’s not the same as girls fingering themselves. Things get kind of… messy.”
I laughed at this. “So you’re an expert on female masturbation, huh?”
Common sense, moral fiber, matrimonial loyalty, something
should have stopped me right there. I could have pecked him on the forehead, killed the light, and gone to sleep. It was in my power to control this and I didn’t. His tanned chest and shoulders, not to mention the long form in his boxer briefs, got the better of me. Still, I never intended to take things as far as I did.
“Alright, you don’t need any privacy with me. I love you,” I said quietly, pulling the tee shirt over my head. “You can stroke yourself while you look at me. Then we’ll clean it up and get some sleep.”
“Lynnie, no I… I don’t think I can,” he stammered, eyes fixed on my pale A cups.
He was shy. I understood that. His face was flushed. Jerk off in front of your big sister? Not gonna happen, I supposed. Still, he was horny enough to feel me up a few minutes ago. Then I heard myself say something I would never have dreamed possible before that night.
“Right. Okay, lie down here next to me. I’ll help you.”
He hesitated and then complied warily, lying on his back, hands crossed over his groin. I remember feeling all warm and fluttery in my tummy as he entrusted himself to me. I was just dying to put my hands on his body. I felt my nipples become erect and a vein in my neck begin to pulse.
“Scoot your butt up. Let’s get these off,” I said softly, leaning over him and sliding my fingers under the elastic waist.
Gerry was breathing heavily and staring into my eyes. Slowly, he lifted his hips. I removed his hands and slid the boxer briefs over his buttocks, thighs, calves, and feet. It seemed to take forever. Finally, he lay there naked.
His long, meaty sex organ rolled languidly on its side along the crook between his pelvis and upper thigh. That he would be thus endowed had never occurred to me. Even in this semi-aroused state, my teenage brother was considerably bigger than my husband. Two large ovals anchored his hairless scrotum. His wispy, blonde-brown pubic hair looked just like mine, I remember thinking.
“Okay, relax,” I whispered, running a hand over his tight chest and abdomen.
“Lynnie, wait,” he said. “Can I see you, too? Down there?”
I followed his eyes to my underwear. I smiled and straightened up on my knees, working the panties off. I separated my legs for him and spread my lips slightly with two fingers. My heart felt like it would beat through my chest. I presented myself naked to him.
“See how wet you make me? You know about that, right?”
“Yes,” he croaked, staring at my sex.
My brother’s penis had begun to straighten, fatten, and grow. By the time I took it into my hands, it had already begun rising off his thigh with each beat of his heart. I felt love and lust as he hardened for me, his sister. In seconds it stood straight up on its own, longer and thicker than any I had known.
“Gerry, if word of this monster gets out, you won’t be able to keep those high school girls off you,” I said. “Or their moms.”
“You like it?”
“Mmmm, it’s beautiful.”
I wanted to enjoy his cock for a few minutes before I let him come, so I very gently ran my hand up and down the rigid shaft. I marveled at the soft, silky skin covering the warm column of granite. I cupped his testicles and ran them around in my fingers one by one. Noticing clear liquid coating the tip of its head, I instinctively bent over and licked it away. I froze.
“Gerry, I… I can’t blow you,” I stammered. “I shouldn’t have… just a hand job, okay?”
“No blow job. Okay.” He was squirming and slowly pumping hips.
Despite our agreement, he lifted his pelvis high toward my face. I kissed the tip of his penis and gave him another lick. Before I knew it, I had sucked his head inside my mouth and was pumping away with my hand, barely able to grip him. The hell with it, I thought, and ran my lips and tongue up and down the underside of his shaft, covering him with saliva. I sucked as much of his cock as I could take. It felt so good, I wondered what he would feel like inside me. I felt something warm run down the inside of my thighs.
“Lynnie, I’m gonna come.”
I locked my lips on him as hot cream exploded in my mouth. I swallowed all that I could, something I never did. He kept coming in spasms as I fingered my pussy, feeling my own tension build.
Fifteen minutes later, I lay in the crook of his arm, one leg thrown over his muscled thigh. We were a perfect fit, I thought. I had just serviced my brother orally and betrayed my husband. I knew I would have to come to terms with that. For the moment, though, I just wanted to enjoy the closeness. We had turned off the light and the moon illuminated the room. Being with him just felt right.
I had been about to orgasm when he nearly took the top of my head off with his ejaculation. I really didn’t mind not finishing. I had always enjoyed the buzz of sexual tension. I remember thinking I could teach him how to make me come with his mouth. But no, enough was enough. I had already broken too many taboos.
I looked at my brother just as he leaned in for a long, warm, sensuous kiss. He sucked gently on my lower lip, broke away briefly, and kissed me again. This time he slipped his tongue in my mouth and found a willing partner. Gerry pulled me tighter and caressed my back and cheeks as he kissed my mouth with abandon. My hard nipples electrified as they rubbed against his skin. Warmth poured through my veins and I felt lightheaded.
“God, you’re a good kisser,” I murmured as our lips finally parted.
“It’s the only thing I’ve had much practice doing, remember?” he smiled. Oh, that smile.
“I… I don’t think you can practice that much,” I was completely nonplussed, not really knowing what the hell I was saying.
Gerry kissed me deeply again. I was in heaven. He smelled so good and I felt the vigor of his young body. I began grinding my groin on his hip. His one hand was kneading my buns; the other gently holding my face. I felt his hot cock against my belly as he turned towards me. Oh, God, he’s hard again, I thought. Damn teenager. It took all the strength I could summon, but I broke from his kiss.
“Hey, no, this is wonderful, it is, but we have to stop,” I said, out of breath. “This is getting out of control.”
His reply was swift. He swiped my leg off his hip and knelt between my legs. He was so fast, I had hardly seen him move. I was helpless as he sunk lower, pushing apart my knees with his. Gerry leaned forward to take my erect, nipples in his fingers. It was like a live wire had been attached to them. I arched my back as he tortured the screaming nubs without mercy. He scratched lightly across the sensitive tips and I buried my nails into his thighs. When Gerry started on me with his thumbs, a message was sent to my vagina, releasing warm secretions. I knew the sheets must have been soaked.
There is a moment, an instant really, when you absolutely know you are about to have sex. Do you know the moment? Your body prepares you, lubricating you, releasing chemicals to excite and intoxicate you with desire. I felt light and glowing. The pleasure was excruciating.
Gerry’s cock looked longer and thicker than before, though I knew it couldn’t be. I gazed at the phallus. It pointed slightly upward and dripped pre-ejaculate on my belly. I took my brother’s penis in my hand and rubbed his head inside my slippery cunt, covering it with his sister’s juices. Then I centered him.
He drove slowly into me with the hot, rigid tool. It pushed aside my swollen lips and expanded the walls of my vagina. He pushed as far as my body could allow and held himself there. I felt my muscles spasm around the huge organ. Then I felt him withdraw and drive into me again sending more contractions throughout my vagina.
“Fuck me now,” I pleaded into his ear. “Just fuck me,”
Gerry planted one strong arm next to me on the bed, lifted my head and kissed me again. Then he planted his other arm before rocking his hips and ramming me hard with the long, turgid cock. My legs were pushed up, knees clamped to his sides as he effortlessly pumped through me with animal-like power and rhythm. I gripped his straining forearms as he invaded me.
The orgasm came suddenly and radically. I wrapped my legs around him and just held on as waves crashed through my body. The relentless action of his thick cock heated my entire lower half and sent shivers up my spine.
We were both covered in perspiration with him fucking me like a tiger taking down its prey. Then his body stiffened and his muscles quivered. I felt him release his semen into me again. I could hardly believe he had anything left to give me.
He collapsed next to me, chest heaving, big eyes looking into mine.
A year and a half later, my sister christened her first child. Of course, it was a huge family affair. I had seen Gerry at the usual holidays since that summer. He hugged my warmly, brotherly, and spent time catching up on all my nonsense. My mother remarked with pleasure at how close we seemed since the trip to Italy . Yet we never said a word about our affair, even when out of earshot of others.
The night we first fucked was not the last. Behind closed doors in Italy we lived as lovers, unable to control our lust. We did things I have never done with any other, and never would. I felt, and still do, that no one will ever satisfy me like my brother. Sometimes late at night, I dream about stealing away and having him again.
Gerry was accompanied by a date at the celebration. She was stunning, really. Tara was tall with long dark hair and, frankly, impressive breasts. They were freshmen together at the large state university that had recruited my brother. Oddly, I didn’t feel jealous of her.
Tara approached me at the bar as I squeezed a lime into my vodka tonic.
“Lynne, hi,” she said, beaming at me. “I’ve wanted to get you alone all afternoon.”
“Oh, yeah, this place is mobbed,” I replied, waving my hand. “All these crazy relatives. Must be hard for you.”
“No, not at all. I’m from a big family. Seems just like home.”
I smiled and refilled Tara ’s wine glass.
“Say!” she said conspiratorially, leaning closer. “I understand you and I have something in common.”
My heart positively stopped. All I could do was stare at her. Would he? No, please. I looked around frantically to see where my husband was.
“Swimming,” she giggled. “I swim butterfly at State! My God, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
Relief does not begin to describe what I felt. Thank God, I thought. My laughter was inappropriately enthusiastic, which only made Tara laugh harder.
“Seriously, Lynne, Gerry talks about you all the time,” she said, as her laughter subsided. “He says the two of you are very close.”
“Well, that’s right. We have a special bond.”
“He tells me Ted’s due to ship out again in the spring. You must get very lonely when he’s away.”
“Well, I just try to stay busy,” I said, panning the room.
Gerry caught my eye, raised his glass, and winked.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
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