I remained in the shower for an extended period of time, trying to deal with the conflict that was overwhelming me. I could not quite get my mind around what had just occurred; and what I had done.
In a moment of weakness, I had crossed a line that our society has deemed uncrossable. I had violated one of the most fundamental taboos that exist; a taboo that has existed since biblical time.
I was ashamed, and guilt ridden; at the same time I was excited and confused. I did not fully understand my reaction to the events of an hour ago; but the image of Gary’s magnificent erect cock as it erupted with the remarkable spewing of semen was profoundly stimulating to me. Even now, awash with guilt and shame, I could not deny that by simply recalling these events, I grew aroused almost instantly.
To say I was conflicted does no justice to the inner turmoil I was experiencing.
I exited the shower, dried and quickly dressed in gym shorts and an athletic top. I did not want to face Gary, or anyone else right then. I needed time alone.
The one activity of solitude during which I could search my most inner thoughts was running. I donned my running shoes. I exited the house, grabbing an apple, as I started my run.
It was just under three and a half miles from my front door to the closest Starbuck’s. That is where I headed at a furious pace. I was perspiring lightly when I arrived at the coffee shop about thirty minutes after leaving my house.
I ordered a small latte', doctored it to my liking, and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs. Almost as soon as I sat down, James, who was a classmate of mine and whose attention I had been wanting for some time, came in and struck up a conversation.
“Liz, what's up?”
“Just out for a morning run. I thought I would grab a latte' before I headed back out to complete my run.”
James was in honors math and physics with me. He was tall, good looking, and athletic. Two days ago, I would have been gushing at the thought of James striking up a conversation with me, hoping that he would ask me out. I have had a crush on him for over a year. But now I wanted to escape this conversation.
I quickly realized that I was focused solely on Gary. My mind was fixated on Gary’s marvelous body at this moment. I did not want to be distracted from my thoughts of Gary's wonderful penis, and how it erupted earlier with my help.
James did not currently interest me. The events of this morning had been more than a physical or sexual experimentation for me. I quickly realized that this morning's events represented a significant emotional event to me.
The intimacy that Gary and I shared earlier, which led to powerful orgasms for both of us, had resulted in a very real emotional connection from my perspective. I had no idea what Gary was feeling at this moment. I needed to find out.
I feared that I was about to learn a valuable lesson in the difference between how men and women view intimacy. I now know that often times men can be intimate without an emotional connection. Men are capable of ‘sport humping’ or, to be more crude, ‘sport fucking’. Women, on the other hand, have a tendency to tie deep emotional connections to real intimacy.
And as absurd as it now sounds, the physical exchange that Gary and I shared this morning had touched me more deeply than a physical release, I was now emotionally attached to my stepbrother in a way that certainly was not normal, and arguably, not healthy.
I did not understand it at that moment, but I needed to escape the conversation with James. James would have been a normal and healthy target for my emotions, but at this particular moment, I was distracted with strong emotional feelings for Gary. I could not be bothered with James right now. I needed to find and confront Gary to determine his state of mind.
After about ten minutes of small talk, I finished my coffee and excused myself from James.
“Hey, it was great running into you this morning, but I better be finishing my run before I lose whatever motivation I have,” I said as I got up and prepared to leave.
James, who was quite popular with the girls at our school, was not used to being dismissed. He actually looked shocked that I was not thrilled to stay and enjoy his company longer. He made one last overture, “So do you have plans tonight?”
To which I replied, “Yeah, I am hooked up with some family stuff tonight; but perhaps we can get together some other time.”
I realized that I just brushed off one of the more popular boys in school. This was a first for both James and me. In truth, it felt kind of good at the time.
I took off, and took a convoluted way home. My best guess is I made the return trip five or six miles long, and took a little better than an hour to complete the run. It was approaching noon when I arrived home, sweating heavily and having run some of the anxiety out of my body. But I was no closer to understanding my feelings or knowing what I should do next than when I left.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and nursing her daily hangover. If she stayed true to form, she would start drinking sometime in the late afternoon, be drunk before dinner and be asleep by eight or nine o'clock tonight.
I felt badly for her. I wished I knew how to help her, but I realized I had nothing to offer her. Hopefully, some day she would pull herself out of the alcoholic abyss she occupied, but that would depend on her, not me. Right now, I had my own issues to deal with.
I looked for Gary, although I was not sure what I would say when I found him.
“Where is Gary?” I asked mom.
“I don’t know. He set out of here like a bat on fire about an hour ago. He did not say where he was heading, or when he’d be back. He really doesn’t talk to me much anyway. I guess it is just the stage he is going through.”
Mom paused and then continued, almost talking to herself, “I am glad you and I still communicate well.”
I thought to myself how silly the last statement sounded. Mom and I had not really talked since Dad died. But I did not see any reason to correct her illusion that we were still communicating and talking.
Gary’s absence caused my anxiety level to jump. My mind raced with all kinds of scenarios about what he was feeling and thinking, and what he was doing right now. I was concerned that he might be sharing the details of this morning with one or more of his friends. That thought scared me beyond belief.
I tried to focus on my homework. Mostly, I just sat there, staring at my physics book, reliving the events of the morning, and working various scenarios about the future in my head. The daydreams both scared and excited me. Try as I might, I could not purge the vivid images from my brain, and my body reacted to the memories; I was wet and aroused, and ashamed that I was. And my anxiety level was at an all-time high.
After struggling with my homework for over an hour, I had only completed three of twelve assigned problems. I decided to abandon this effort and watch some TV. It was 3:30 p.m. Mom was just now starting her ritual of orange juice and vodka.
I occupied myself for several hours, waiting for Gary to return, and avoiding Mom. I was getting increasingly pissed that Gary had abandoned me this way. Why wasn’t he as anxious as I was to discuss this? Why wasn’t he concerned with my mental and emotional state?
It was one of my earliest lessons that men are insensitive bastards. We really should not expect them to act any better than they do.
I finally approached Mom, and offered to make pasta for dinner. Mom was very happy to abdicate dinner responsibility to me. She was not drunk yet, but she was ‘on her way’, so to speak. It was after six o’clock when Gary came bounding in, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world; acting as if everything was normal. In the context of the inner turmoil with which I was dealing, his carefree attitude really irritated me.
I ignored him in a little show of my displeasure, but I am not sure he even noticed. We ate dinner. Mom complimented me on the pasta and garlic bread. Gary grunted agreement that it was good. After dinner, Mom retired to the family room with her drink. Gary escaped upstairs and I rinsed the dishes and stacked the dishwasher.
As I contemplated this morning’s events, I convinced myself that what Gary and I did was wrong, and it needed to stop. As appealing, exciting and enjoyable as this morning was, continuing a relationship with my stepbrother violated every rule in our society.
I freely admit, there was a part of me that wanted this torrid relationship to continue. Mixed with the shame and deep embarrassment of my sin, was the excitement of the memory of masturbating my stepbrother to orgasm, and climaxing myself while I did it. Part of me wanted to experience that again and again. But I knew it was wrong, and I committed to telling Gary we needed to prevent a recurrence. I was deeply conflicted.
I was still wearing my running clothes, and I had not washed since my run earlier in the day, so I was kind of 'grungy'.
I decided to take a shower for the second time today. I needed to clean up before discussing my thoughts with Gary. I also was considering not discussing this tonight but delaying the ‘talk’ until tomorrow.
Hell, I didn't know what I was going to do.
I went into the bathroom Gary and I shared. As I undressed, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked good. My breasts were firm, and my bright pink nipples were prominent and erect. I was developing a nice firm butt that in conjunction with my long legs, completed a very nice, athletic figure.
I was proud of my physical development. Despite knowing our physical relationship should stop, I really felt that Gary should appreciate how good his stepsister really looked. After all, I had responded very much to his naked form. I felt a bit insulted that he did not seem to recognize what an attractive woman I was becoming.
Our shower had a hand held ‘shower-pic massager’ that hung from the wall. I turned to dial to pulsating massage. The water pulsed against my breasts and a shoulders. It felt wonderful. I turned and allowed the pulsating jets to massage my neck and shoulders.
I heard the bathroom door open and close, and my pulse quickened as I stood motionless, listening intently to determine if anyone had entered the room. I heard the unmistakable sound of movement, and my heart pounded even more furiously in my chest.
I felt an anxious ache in my stomach as I questioned simply, “Gary?”, without looking outside the shower curtain.
“Yeah, Liz, it’s me.”
Gary paused and I waited silently for him to continue.
