1. Brother’s loss of love
My brother had a lover. His lover was no one else but me.
The idiom of “childhood sweethearts” probably describes our close relationship, as we attended the same elementary school when we were young, and went to school, left school and played together. He was two years older than me and two grades ahead. We lived in old-fashioned public housing in a cramped environment with only two rooms. My brother and I shared a room spaced by wooden boards, and he slept on the upper level of a bunk bed and I on the lower level. We went to the same elementary school, he in the morning and I in the afternoon, and he came to pick me up from school every day and played with me at the playground for a while before going home.
When he moved up to middle school, he went to a different school from me. He didn’t like to spend much time with me, even though I was always following him around. During the summer vacation of his third year of secondary school, he went to a factory for a summer job and made friends with some of the workers, with whom he spent the rest of the day.
At the end of summer vacation, after classes started, I noticed that he suddenly became depressed. We slept in the same sleeping room and he couldn’t hide anything from me. I wanted to ask him what happened, but he didn’t give me the chance. He probably thought I was still a child and wouldn’t tell me what was on his mind. However, by then I had already moved up to middle school.
My brother’s disoriented look caught my attention, and I realized that our eyes would often meet, and I would immediately and self-consciously divert my gaze as if I had been electrocuted. I was embarrassed by the way he gazed at me, as if he wanted to check me out. His behavior was odd, what was he up to?
It’s so hard to gauge the psychology of boys.
One day after school, he showed up in front of my school for the first time since I started middle school. I went to an all-girls’ high school, and the fact that a boy was picking up after school at the gate drew the attention of my classmates. I had to explain to the nice students that it was my brother.
He said he had something important to say to me, so he came to see me in particular. Fiercely.
I went with him to a quiet place, he stammered to me: he was bored, want to find someone to talk about his heart. Thinking back to when I was a child, I played together those days, the mood is better. We used to have a lot to talk about, so he came to me.
Yes, once upon a time I told him everything and he would tell me a lot of things, even the ones he wouldn’t tell mom, knowing I would keep it a secret.
So he told me the story of his lost love. I had expected this, but his willingness to tell me, his little sister, about the lost love immediately elevated my status.
He met a girlfriend at the factory and had a crush on her. At first the guys went to movies and trips, then they dated alone and came close. I rarely saw him throughout the summer, all because he went with his girlfriend. He confessed that he really liked this girl. However, shortly after school started, she broke up with him. The reason was that she was a few years older and she didn’t fit in with him. He couldn’t accept this reason, and it was a big shock to him.
When I said that, I actually burst into tears in front of me.
I don’t know how to comfort him because I have never been in love. However, I could imagine how hard it must be to lose a love. I wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with a tissue.
He said, “You’re so nice, it’s so much easier for me to say what’s on my mind. We’re going to be together as often as we were in the old days, okay?”
I said, “Yes.” I want to be with him like when I was a child.
We then went home together and I began to gush about school to him.
2. Mutual love
The next day, he had to walk me to school, even though it was a different route, he had to walk me to the front door of the school and told me that he would pick me up after school.
He did come and walk home with me. Every day, as it were, the tube took over the delivery.
Our route home was different every day, with a few detours. With backpacks on our backs, we walked through shopping malls, parks, and streets near and far. When he earned some money during the summer, he treated me to movies, ice-cream, bowling, and bought me some knick-knacks. He was in a much brighter mood, having gotten over the pain of his breakup. Honestly, I was worried that after he got over his lost love, he would stop paying attention to me.
My classmates made fun of me for dating.
“Where is it! That boy is my brother.”
“Shame! Shame! You’re dating your brother.”
I chased down the classmates who made fun of me, but there was a hint of sweetness in my heart.
One day, after dinner, he told Mom and Dad he was going to take me to the library to brush up on my homework and take me to the side of a mountain.
When I was a kid, we used to come here to catch butterflies.
When he went up the mountain, the moon was shining brightly, and the lights at the bottom of the mountain were brilliant. He pointed to the lights at the bottom of the mountain and said, “The stars have all fallen to earth.”
I said, “No, it’s in heaven.”
He touches my hand, testing my reaction, then drags it along. His palms are sweaty and my heart is pounding. When I was a kid, we used to hold hands without feeling embarrassed. But this night, when his hand toweled mine, it was like an electric shock?
The mountain road was dark with no streetlights, and the sound of cars at the bottom of the hill grew distant. We walked closer and closer, but didn’t speak, and at some point he wrapped his arms around my waist. He had never done this before, and a strange feeling filled our midst.
On the hill, there was a big rock where we sat and watched the night view. He put one hand on my shoulder, and with the other hand, he ruffled my long hair, which was blown away by the night wind. The view down the hill was dreamlike, and I felt a little cold, snuggling into his arms, letting his body heat warm me, and I felt so dear to him. His lips sought the side of my face for a moment, gently stopping at the corner of my mouth for a kiss. A burst of heat radiated from there, straight to the back of my ear.
Oh shit, what does this mean? Why does it feel so weird?
Before I knew what was going on, we were kissing passionately. I was thirteen years old and had many fantasies and visions of love. I longed for someone to love me, and the first boy to kiss me turned out to be my brother.
I didn’t regret giving him my first kiss. I didn’t know many boys, and among my brother’s classmates, neighbors, and friends and relatives, my brother was clean-cut, unassuming, and bookish, and he was the object of my secret admiration.
Usually I would have a lot to say to him, such as what happened at school, how classmate A was doing, and how classmate B was doing. But that night I didn’t say anything, my mouth was sealed with his kiss. I closed my eyes, not daring to look at him.
On the way down, he took me by the hand, like when we went to school together as children.
When we got home, we kissed one more time before he let go of me and went to bed. I could never get to sleep, he slept on the upper level of the bed, and it wasn’t long before I heard him snorting. And I tossed and turned, my whole being soaking in the sensation of giving him kisses and caresses.
Since then, it’s been an inseparable time. In addition to school, we are together. I hold his arm, he took my waist, hand in hand are to come naturally, we are brother and sister well, could have been close. In quiet place, or at night when the lights off, before going to bed, he will embrace me, and I kissed.
He borrowed a camera and tripod from a classmate, and took a series of intimate photos with me on a trip to the countryside. He chose one of the photos in which he held me in his arms, wrote our names, the place and date of the photo shoot on the back, and drew two hearts, stringing them together with an arrow and the word Love in English. I keep it in my wallet and treasure it to this day.
3. First time in the rain
We did not worry about seeing each other, living together, living together, spending time together, we were together as a matter of course, no one would suspect that we had any unusual relationship, and mom was not surprised by our intimate relationship. Once, inadvertently saw the state intimate photo together in my wallet, she did not say anything, face stunned look.
Another time, we were cuddling and kissing on the bed when mom knocked on the door to come in. My brother and I were naked in front of her eyes. Mom didn’t scold us on the spot, but just said to lock the door if we didn’t want to do it again.
Afterwards, she gave me some advice about men and women, as if men and women are not related, and that there is also a sense of propriety and decency between brother and sister. I realized that although we loved each other sincerely and purely, others would look at us differently. But I trusted him and never kept my guard up, and those words from my mom didn’t ruin my brother and I’s relationship. We avoided her suspicion by going to the library or school activities and meeting in secluded places. We were together every day, but it seemed like it wasn’t enough. I still thought about him during school hours.
A couple of months went by like this. One weekend, Mom and Dad went to a party and we went to a movie, a romantic movie, of course with lots of explicit sex scenes.
When we got home, it was just the two of us, and with the door closed, it was our world of two. He hugged me tightly and kissed me deeply, just like that couple of lovers in the movie. He unbuttoned the top button of my jeans, my heart beat faster, his hand went inside my T-shirt to loosen my bra, but he couldn’t unbutton it.
Finally, all the clothes came off of me, leaving only my bra, but it felt just as good as being completely naked.
When I was younger, I wouldn’t be shy about taking a bath together. Recently, I’ve been kissing and caressing my brother every day, and I’ve accepted it. But when I’m naked with him, I can’t look at his body. It’s a loss of innocence. People draw the line at brother-sister relationships. I realized that no brother and sister would ever be so close, and that we had come to a point where we were going to enter into that deeper intimacy, but we were not going to enter into it.
I don’t dare to imagine further in that direction, only the old days of playing house wine.
We have programmed dialog.
“I’ll play dad, you play mom.” Brother said.
“I’ll cook dinner and do your laundry.” I said.
“And bring me little babies.” Brother said.
“Daddy’s off work, come home for dinner.” I said.
Now, we’re playing what mom and dad do in their sleeping quarters, which is a new episode.
He was so clumsy that he couldn’t get my bra off. I was naked and gave him caresses and kisses all over my body, making me so horny that I couldn’t help myself. The bra was binding me, and if I didn’t undo it, it would suffocate me, so I automatically lifted the last line of defense on my body for him. The tips of my nipples were immediately held in his mouth, and I could no longer pretend to be a model.
His kisses rained down on my breasts as his fingers dug into the flesh between my legs, probing the path.
And then the thing stuck inside me and took me over fully.
I was already wet from his touch down there, but his thing was so thick and big that it felt like it was going to rip me apart when he thrust it in, and it hurt so much that I shed tears and screamed.
My brother stopped jerking: “Does it hurt?”
“It’s okay, as long as you love me.”
“I love you.” Said the man, filling me with his cum.
“I will give my life to you if you love me.”
Right in the middle of this love affair, Mom and Dad came home. We were too scared to move as if we had been caught in the act, fearing that we might arouse their suspicion. We didn’t have time to put our clothes back on, so we covered our naked bodies with the quilt and held our breath until it was calm outside again, and then we breathed a sigh of relief.
He comforted me by saying, “It’s okay.”
I said, “I’m scared.”
He said, “Don’t be afraid, I love you.”
I said, “Really?”
He said, “Really.”
I said, “I love you too.”
It was the first time he said “I love you” to me. I felt that we were in love. That night, sleeping with my brother in my arms, we had never been so close. I felt like he was inside me all the time, never leaving me. I was filled with him, my mind was full of him. His thing, it stayed hard and taut against the small of my back.
He’s asleep, I’m sleepless alone. I was still scared, wondering what tomorrow would bring. He was sixteen and I was fourteen.
4. Falling red flakes
Before dawn, I nudged my brother, who was sleeping beside me, awake. Half asleep, still naked, he climbs onto the upper level of the bed and goes back to sleep. I clean up the mess from last night’s bed, the sheets imprinted with flakes of falling red, a mark of my lost innocence and purity.
I quickly changed the bedsheets and took the soiled sheets to the wash. My mother was alarmed, and when she saw me washing the sheets in the bathroom, she asked me, “I just changed them for you two days ago, and they’re dirty again?”
I said, “Yeah. Came in early, didn’t realize I’d gotten dirty.”
Back to bed, Meng in the sleep, sent a series of nightmares. Woke up, it turned out to be my brother kneeling beside me, see me asleep, kissed me on the mouth and kissed.
He wanted to wake me up to go to school, but I didn’t sleep well, so I asked my brother to go and tell my mother to take the day off from school. I was afraid to go back to school with the nun’s searchlight-like gaze, as if she could see through a student’s hidden agenda.
That day she summoned me to see her and asked me if I was dating my boyfriend. I replied, “He’s my brother.” A pair of searchlights swept over my face, and she wanted to verify my confession in my expression.
She said, “God will know.” Then her eyes fixed on my skirt.
The person grew two inches taller and the skirt became short and ill-fitting, exposing both thighs.
My mom went to the market to buy groceries and suddenly I felt like I was the only one in heaven and earth. I hugged my pillow and cried for no reason.
I promised to reserve myself for the one I loved most, to marry him, to marry him in a church ceremony, and to let him take my virginity.
The swelling and pain in her lower body was a punishment she had invited upon herself and deserved.
In a dream on , I dreamed that I was married to my brother in a church. The priest said, “You, brother and sister, cannot get married.”
But I’ve already had a physical relationship with him, and I already have his flesh and blood in my belly, so what should I do?
My brother came home to see me right after class. Seeing my eyes swollen and still with tear stains, he took me in his arms and comforted me. He took me in his arms and comforted me. Caressing my face, wiping away my tears, holding me like a small child, leaning against the bed, hugging me horizontally, kissing me constantly, kissing away my face of confusion.
This is the love I want, even if the sky falls, as long as my brother is with me, I’m not afraid.
I said, “It still hurts down there!” I pulled my pajamas and panties down above my knees and asked him to take a look.
He examined me once, but he couldn’t see anything, so he said, “It’s okay, I heard that the first time will be painful. Then he continued to embrace me and gently stroked my pubic mound with his fingers, not daring to towel that area.
After dinner, he said he wanted to talk to me about last night. Took me to the mountains. At the top of the hill in a quiet place, and I embrace, wildly kiss each other. He couldn’t help his teenage urges, took off my panties, and made love to me in a curtain.
Another ripping pain. It was the price of our love for each other, and I forced myself to endure the paroxysm until he branched out on me for his pleasure.
On the way down, his cum poured out and his underwear gave way, not worn back. A cool breeze blew up his skirt and penetrated between his legs as a sheet of ice, calming the pain of the aftermath.
We embraced each other and walked down the hill into the night, and it was as if the world was just the two of us together.
5. Suspicious pregnancies
After we had sex, the sky didn’t fall and lightning didn’t strike us, and just that was our second time.
After the second time, there was a third. Every time we had sex, he made me red and sore and swollen down there.
And fourteen-year-old girls don’t think about what happens when they get pregnant.
My period was late, which worried us for a while. Luckily, it was only late, but I was already wary of sex. In fact, at the time, sex didn’t feel so good to me. After the pregnancy cloud cleared, he asked me for sex again, and I held the line on the grounds that I would have a baby.
There is an English idiom that says, “Where there is determination, there is a way.” If you want to do something, you will find a way to do it. He bought condoms so that I would have no excuse to refuse him.
I said, “But it’s going to hurt me.”
He said, “I’ll be gentle and accommodating.”
He has certainly learned to be gentle and attentive and accommodating.
However, you can’t go to the mountains late at night to make love; the mosquitoes on the mountains bite my legs red and swollen. In the room, again, I had to wait until no one was home. But when the opportunity arose, he would make love to me. Having made love with my brother, our relationship went another level deeper. I know he wants to make love to me, and that’s my biggest thrill. Do you feel guilty after having sex?
No matter how I try to explain it to my conscience or not, I know that I am doing something wrong.
Since our relationship has progressed to a sexual level, we have become a little more vigilant and will keep our distance at home and in front of friends and family for fear of giving anything away. He sometimes took me to his classmates’ events with the obvious intention of ignoring me. At his age, some of his classmates were already dating, some would bring their girlfriends out, and on those occasions, they would openly show solicitude and care for their girlfriends. I didn’t dare to hope that I would be treated in the same way, but he treated me as if I were air. I followed him around as if I were an extra, even a liability.
There are one or two female classmates who are quite pretty and know how to dress up, and I can see that he is close to them for a reason. They talk a little more, I will be jealous. After the game, away from his classmates, he wanted to pull my hand, wrap my waist, I do not let him. When he tried to kiss me, I turned my head away from him and he realized that I had lost my temper.
He was very resourceful. He would sell me a small gift, say something sweet, take me to the beach to see the night view and the sea breeze, and I would forget all the unhappy things again, and I would be back in his arms, dying to be his little lover, letting him use his sexual power over me.
6. An old love is like a dream
He got into college and we were all happy. He moved into the university dormitory and began to live independently and freely.
At first thinking that it would give us the convenience of a rendezvous, I started taking birth control pills to avoid the diaphragm of a condom. But that was just wishful thinking on my part.
First, after he moved to the dorms, mom wanted him to move out of our room. When I came home on the weekends, mom wouldn’t let him share my room and told him to sleep on the couch in the living room. She said we were grown up and it was inconvenient for a man and a woman to sleep together, and there was no reason for him to go into my leap room. So we lost our own little world and he just didn’t come home for the night.
We have to make a pact if we want to meet, otherwise it’s hard to find him. I would travel all the way to the university to find him, and if his roommate wasn’t there, I would have sex in the dorm. We would take walks around the university and sometimes go to movies or concerts. Gradually, he socialized more frequently, and at first he would take me to his classmates’ events. His classmates were from prestigious schools and lived and thought differently than I did growing up in public housing estates. I was always an outsider among his friends. I was naïve in my thinking and speaking, and I wanted to enter college quickly to be on par with them. But I didn’t want to go to school, I was too busy trying to keep the relationship alive.
We see each other less often, and when we do, we try to make time for sex. Sex is indeed more frequent, and the relationship has gone backwards. It’s getting harder and harder to understand what he’s thinking.
Gradually, he rarely came home and rarely called me. Every time I called him, it was me who went to the university to look for him. Even sex seemed to be absent-minded, sex without love. The part of me that’s in me seems to be disconnected from his soul. When we meet, we go to bed and have sex. We meet just to have sex. After cumming, his mission for me is done.
I lost my temper several times and showed my displeasure, but he seemed like he didn’t care.
In the end, it was still me who recognized the wheel and resigned myself to go back to him. Undress and spread my legs in his bed and die as his mistress.
I felt that his heart was drifting away from me, and I was having a hard time, feeling anxious and uneasy. During the summer vacation, he joined a tour to Taiwan organized by his classmates. If he had taken me there, he could have patched things up, but I was disappointed.
When I came back, I got wind that he was hitting it off with a female classmate.
He moved into a single room when he moved into his sophomore year of college. However, I’ve only been to his room once or twice.
Once, I wanted to see him so badly that I couldn’t get in touch with him, so I went to the dormitory to look for him. He answered the door and looked surprised to see me there. His girlfriend was in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, arranging her hair and clothes, just like the time when we were caught in the room by mom. Judging by their appearance, they were in the middle of their honeymoon.
My brother introduced us: “This is my sister, and this is my classmate.” I didn’t need to be told that she was my brother’s “girlfriend”. She was, but I wasn’t. I was nothing. This is a cruel fact, I pushed down the sour taste, and left after exchanging a few pleasantries with them.
On the way home, I fought back tears, realizing that I was just a “stand-in”. He doesn’t care about me anymore, I should know that. He didn’t explain to me, nor did he do anything to make me happy. No phone calls, no words. Ah, he never wrote me a letter, just a few pictures, a few cards, and little gifts.
Is this a breakup? I’m not willing, we have been together for so many years, even an account owed. When he fell out of love, he asked me to comfort him. I fell out of love, who will comfort me?
College entrance exams were coming up and I had to regain the ground I had lost academically. But it was too late. My studies were wasted and I was mentally disorganized. I passed the exams, but my grades were not good enough to enter the university, and in fact, I lost my motivation to enter the university. As a result, I got a job in a commercial firm and took a secretarial course at night.
I was more mature and worldly than girls of the same age, and I quickly gained the favor of my boss, and within a year, I was promoted to be the boss’s secretary and got a raise. Wanting to lead a more independent life and to make it easier to go to work, I shared a floor apartment with a colleague from my company.
Our ambiguous relationship ended without a hitch, and we met as if nothing had happened, still brother and sister, although his eyes would sometimes show a hint of loss to me. From the first kiss onwards, everything was my wishful thinking, I should say, it was my wishful thinking. Our real relationship was that of brother and sister, and he had once taken me for a lover and had an incestuous love affair with me, so did I want him to take me as his wife? It was impossible. He owes me, at best, an account.
I held back a belly full of the taste of loss and went on with my life without him.
He graduated from college, got a job with a big company with the help of his future father-in-law, got married right away, and soon after my nephew was born.
7. Renewed affection
I have had a few suitors, one of which is my boss, Mr. A. He’s more than a decade older than me, well endowed, divorced, and has two sons and daughters. Mom and Dad don’t like him much, which is fine with me, as long as he dates me, I won’t say no.
I threw myself into another life and left that relationship with my brother behind.
I was dragging my feet and not too serious about A because he was not the one I had in mind. My brother’s married life turned red in less than two years. On my father’s birthday, I didn’t see my sister-in-law with me, and I knew something was wrong from the look in his eyes. At the banquet, he looked at me from time to time, as if he had a lot of heart to tell me. When I went to the restroom, he followed me and said he had something to tell me. Rationally, I should stay out of the way; emotionally, I can’t let go.
After the party broke up, we met to talk in the lounge of a nearby hotel. He told me all about his unhappy married life, and I just listened, not wanting to get involved in the whirlwind of his feelings. The lounge closed and he offered to rent a room to continue the conversation.
Don’t I know what he wants? He wants me to spend the night with him, to fill the void in his body and mind.
He was despondent, emaciated, and miserable. Begging me to give him the comfort of the night, I hardened my heart and refused him.
I said, “That’s not right!”
He said, “I’m sorry, I know it’s wrong, but…”
I said, “I’m just concerned about you as a sister, don’t think of anything else.”
He didn’t go on.
In fact, it’s not that I don’t want a man to spend long nights with me. He was indeed a good companion in bed, a good lover. His kisses and touches, the tangible feeling of his thing inside me, I hadn’t forgotten.
But at this point, I am no longer that thirteen or fourteen year old girl who could put him to bed with a few words, and it’s been over between us for a long time.
Soon after that, he used to call me and ask me to meet him. I went to all the appointments, but I actually wanted to know how his unhappy marriage ended. He finally got divorced and couldn’t even get custody of his son. He was devastated.
His marriage failed and I don’t know if I should be happy or unhappy. Because, sooner or later, my incestuous love affair with him was over. It made more sense for my brother to find someone and start a family. I’ve gotten back in the mood to date him again as a sibling.
So, I was in between two men. With Mr. A, I was enjoying wine and food, while with my brother, “goodbye is also a friend”, and we got along well. Unexpectedly, our love affair is not yet over, will be back to his embrace one day.
8. Renewal of previous relationships
It was late one night when my brother he was drunk and touched the door. I never let him in my house, but he was so drunk that I had to help him in and let him lie down on my bed for a while. When I took off his shoes and untied his tie, he took the opportunity to put his arms around me and mumbled that his marriage was a complete failure and that he had known it would be like this. It’s his fault, because the most favorite in his heart is me, but the reality does not allow brother and sister to combine, this is the fate of the people.
In his drunkenness, he ripped my robe, pushed me on the bed, and kissed me like crazy.
He said, “Forgive me! Let’s start again, let me make up for what I’ve done to you…”
But I remember a time when he left me alone, and I said, “I can’t come and go as I’m told. I don’t want to do the role of love substitute, and when there’s a gap, I’m the one who fills it.”
Remembering the cold shoulder he had given me brought back sweet memories of lying on his chest and in his arms. The void in my heart was left because he had left me. He has come back to fill it.
The drunken man would argue with me, and even my body would not cooperate. If I had pushed a little harder, I could have broken away from him. But I didn’t do that, I just protested with my mouth, my legs were weak, and I gave him a hand to separate them, and he knew with a touch that what I said and how my body reacted were two different things.
For four years, I wanted to prove that it was possible to live without him. There was a stubbornness and resentment in my heart, as if I had abandoned him. But seeing him so lost and frustrated, I felt that I had punished him enough, and my heart softened again. We made love again, and never before had we been so entwined in love.
He said, “I love you.” And said, “Love me forever and never leave me.
For the first time in a long time, I heard him say “love me” to me. His loving touch melted my icy flesh and fossilized heart. He knew how to love better than ever before, and made me feel that only he could make me a truly satisfied and happy woman. I surrendered because I got back what I wanted most.
He said, “I’ve known for a long time that you still love me.”
I said, “Who loves you, you heartless man?”
He said, “But you still love me.”
His thighs were grinding and intertwining with mine. His solidity connected our two bodies as one.
I said, “Go deeper… deeper…”
He sends his love, to the depths of my soul.
We were tired from making love and I fell asleep in his arms.
The next day. We take a vacation from work and make love non-stop in bed all day. At noon, we get dressed, go down the street for a bite to eat, come back to the door of our room, we kiss inseparably again, undress and get into bed to do it all over again.
He prepared a big speech to me, asking me to believe that his favorite person was me. He didn’t have to say it. I already believed it. But women always love to hear that. Years ago, I expected him to say something like that to me, but I never heard it. Now that he finally said it, albeit belatedly, I took it at face value.
After a lot of ups and downs, we are together again. What obstacles are there between us, other than a Lunatic relationship?
In the beginning, it was a pair of innocent young lovers, unaware of the sky, boldly in love, never thinking about the future. After growing up, the situation is complicated. Don’t know how to face it, can’t clean it up. Breaking up is painful, but there is no choice. The pain of separation, the breakdown of marriage, called us to cherish the days together.
My brother started talking to me about love, he read a bit of psychology in college and used it all to analyze his love for me. He said that incest was simply abnormal and that one should look outward for a partner. The dysfunctional relationship with you filled me with guilt, and to avoid continuing to sink, I quickly got married, only to realize that I had done wrong, and that the person I really loved was you. I admitted this fact to you and stopped running away from it, and I will not die until you say to me yourself that you no longer love me. Even then, I can’t love a second woman.
I said, “So what if we love each other? Can we? What about your guilt?”
He said, “We are adults and we are responsible for our own behavior. What we do is our own responsibility.”
Back then, I had already planned to follow him for the rest of my life, but I hated that he was too thin-skinned. I asked myself, between my brother and Mr. A, who would I rather marry?
9. Cohabitation
My girlfriend in the same room and I stayed out of each other’s personal business, and she didn’t know who stayed in my room overnight that night.
After that, my brother and I had many rendezvous at the hotel, but it was always inconvenient. When I offered to move in with him, he was overjoyed. However, I had one condition, which was to maintain our respective social lives. That is, I would continue to date A. In a week, five days will be his and two days will be A-kun’s.
He balked at the idea of moving in with me.
At the beginning of cohabitation, quite a flavor of the newlywed honeymoon, fish and water, the joy of the intercalary room, not to mention. However, in a normal life, it is not possible to talk about lovemaking every night. Outside the pressure of work, domestic chores, there are parents to take care of, soon, we are like other couples, morning and evening, cooking and laundry. After getting used to sharing the same bed, we didn’t feel like lovers, but like brother and sister. The way we spoke and behaved naturally showed the so-called husband and wife look. Many people can see that we are a couple, but we are not a couple, we are just brother and sister living together.
We told mom and dad that living together to save money. It was a good excuse. In front of them, we were especially careful to restrain ourselves from being too affectionate in front of them. We sold a floor of our joint venture as a love nest, with two houses, each with its own bedroom on the outside, for mom and dad and a few friends and relatives who visited. In fact, all we needed was a bed. We didn’t hire a Filipino maid, not even an hourly maid, so as not to give away our secret.
He was quite sensitive to my relationship with A-kun. Once or twice a week, there would be a date with A. Usually on weekends, sometimes it was just a business engagement. He always complained that I came home too late and had to investigate every detail of the date. I purposely pissed him off, saying it as if it was romantic and enjoyable, provoking his jealousy. Quietly afterward, he would show his strength in bed and call me good, proving to me that he was a better flirt than A. and a better lover.
My date with A was like a rendezvous with my lover, and I felt like I owed my brother, who was waiting for me back at home, something, so I let him manipulate me in bed, adding a few more slutty winks to my lovemaking as compensation. This turned out to be a good program that I was looking forward to.
A gentleman is unaware of my relationship with my brother, and I never let him into our room. I never let him into our room. He was not suspicious of us living together, but just felt that this brother was too strict with his sister and was too relieved to be able to do so. A gentleman is older, has a lot of experience in life, and is very considerate of me, and caustic. He chased under my skirt, so that I am still considered a youthful, beautiful girl can be as my emotional life of the account. My brother, however, was a man of nature, fond of art, and had a taste for life. Being with him, romantically written, was my true fulfillment and joy.
In this way, I was able to maneuver between two men who both loved me, and live as a married couple with my brother, and it was the most satisfying day of my life.
10. Marriage to Mr. A
My youth was fading fast and my mom and dad were getting older. Dad had a heart condition, so he often pushed me to get married. My mom told me that even though siblings are relatives, they can’t live together for the rest of their lives and have to plan for the rest of their lives.
We can’t disrespect her words when they are so painstaking.
My brother and I discussed this issue endlessly. After months of struggling, we came to an agonizing decision – we couldn’t live like this forever. Our relationship would be revealed one day, and what would we tell mom and dad? These four years of living together were some of our happiest days. We couldn’t let go, but the happy times faded quickly. We bowed down to reality and married Mr. A, who had been chasing me for five to six years.
Like any other couple, I had talked to my brother about having children.
When I asked him if he wanted to have a child, he said, “I already have a son. We don’t need to have a child to maintain our relationship. A child will be an obstacle because we can never be officially married, so we can’t give the child a normal family life.” Therefore, he did not want me to get pregnant.
However, when I was about to get married, I was not afraid of getting pregnant. After deciding on a date to get married, I stopped taking the pill. We counted down the days to that date, and every night, he made love to me, giving it his all every time. He said that he wanted me to always remember what it was like to have sex with him, and to remember that he was the best sex partner I had ever had.
Soon after the wedding, the pregnancy was tested. A son was born just over eight months later.
It was clear to me that the lump in my belly was my brother’s. When I told him I was pregnant with his child, he was so happy that he bought a lot of clothes for his nephew. Mom and Dad were overjoyed because my brother’s son was in the care of his ex-wife, and they had lost the joy of having a grandchild. My child will be there for them, and even though it is not his first time to be a father, Mr. A. is happy to have a son in his middle age.
Although my brother married me off, he still wanted to “reserve” the right to sleep with me, but I did not agree to him. Once upon a time, when I lived with him, I didn’t go to bed with Mr. A. Now that Mr. A. has become my husband, I don’t want him to be a cuckold.
However, I am too weak, one night back to my mother’s home for dinner, drank a little wine.A gentleman had a social event, too late to come to pick me up, brother drove me home, in the car, he forced me to embrace me in his arms and kissed me. I did not resist, let him take off my panties and loosen my bra, wantonly caress my breasts and private parts. He drove the car back to our former love nest.
I’ve only had sex with two men. Of the two, only my brother can bring me to a sexual climax. My brother knows how to spark eroticism with me the best. In his hands, how can I resist him?
That’s right, he was still in love with him, that’s why he broke the ties. After that, we arranged all kinds of excuses and opportunities for a rendezvous with my brother. We are brother and sister, we are relatives, so it is very convenient for us to meet each other, and we appear together on certain occasions without fear of “misunderstanding”.
I strongly encouraged my husband to go to the mainland more often for business. On days when my husband was not at home, I could go back to my old love nest and have fun there. Going back to my mom’s house on weekends was even the best excuse. Putting down my daughter for my grandparents to watch, I could meet up with my brother, make hot love, cuddle naked in bed for an afternoon, and listen to him talk about his love for me.
This weeknight appointment, rain or shine, was a day I had been looking forward to all week.
11. A beautiful marriage
My brother never remarried, and he used to please me by saying that we were practically married. Despite marrying me off to someone else, he still had the right to make love to me without having to find another woman to take care of his sexual needs. He was happy to be my black market lover, once I was his back-up lover, now it was his turn to be my part-time husband. I could have two men at the same time, both of whom loved me. He said, “We’re squared away.
A few years later, Dad died of a heart attack. I was married to Mr. A for less than ten years when he developed lung cancer, and I served him as a wife until he passed away. The inheritance he gave me was enough for my daughter and I to live on for the rest of our lives, and all of Mr. A’s sons and daughters from his ex-wife got married. My children went to Canada to study at university, and my brother and I became unattached, so we moved back to our love nest for the rest of our lives.
Mom found out and didn’t say anything. She was still living in an old public housing unit where she had to climb stairs, and as she was getting older, it was difficult for her to get up and down the stairs, so we suggested that we should take her to live with us. We offered her one of our rooms, and surprisingly, she agreed. For more than twenty years, we have had a knot in our hearts for fear that she would not sympathize with our relationship. For her to move in with us is tantamount to acquiescing to our relationship.
The first day my mom moved in, we invited her to sit down and offered her a cup of tea. She drank it and took out two red envelopes and gave them to us, saying it was a token of her intention to move in. That night, my mom cooked a delicious home-cooked meal. Our family lived together again, just like before. After dinner, we watched TV with her for a while, and she told us to rest when we were tired.
My brother followed me back to our sleeping quarters. After the door closed, we couldn’t help but embrace each other and kiss each other deeply.
I remembered the time when I used to be afraid of catching my mom in the act of cheating with my brother in the room.
Without saying a word, my brother came and undressed me.
I said, “No. Mom, he’s outside watching TV!”
He said, “The door is closed, she can’t see it.”
I said, “Aren’t you ashamed to be in love with your sister?”
He said, “So we can’t let people know.”
I said, “What if mom finds out?”
He said, “Let’s do it softly and she won’t know.”
I said, “Aren’t you tired of it yet?”
He said, “Yeah! Show me your fill before you get tired of looking at it.”
My brother wouldn’t leave me alone and tried to “bully” me. I pretended to be reserved, coy. My delicate posture, he teased the body full of hot and spicy. The touch of his fingers and wet kisses, and make my heart swing up. I was pressed down on the bed, my legs were so numb and soft that I couldn’t close them and separated them for him. He returned to the exuberant energy, the words like a teenager as hard , put me into the dead. We are like that year, he was sixteen years old, I was fourteen years old, in the woodblock interval room, the first time to try rain.
He said he’d always love me.
I said, “Forever is too long.”
He said, “I’ll love you until I’m 80!”
I said, “Can you still?”
He said he loved me even if he couldn’t do it…
We’re all middle-aged, and many couples of that age have a bland, if not dispensable, sex life. Our sex life had always been maintained, but it had plateaued. I can’t imagine that having my mom living with us could stimulate our bedtime fun.
Friends and family have long gossiped about our closeness as siblings, and we have never paid any attention to it. Among our friends, we were brother and sister, one widowed, one divorced, taking care of each other. The name of husband and wife was of no importance to us. People who love each other don’t have to be married. We had grown up together, fallen in love, weathered the storms, and had been married to each other; nothing could separate us.
It’s been more than twenty years, and the path we’ve taken can’t be hidden from mom’s eyes. Today, back then, when we lived together outside, she did not object; today, living with us, it is considered to recognize our relationship. He said that there are some past-life grievances that have to be repaid in this life.
12. Postscript
I write about these things and in no way mean to encourage incest. Not every brother and sister pair will be in a relationship, and many are more estranged than friends. Some will be romantically involved, but have no chance of developing into a couple. Those who don’t understand will think we have fallen to lust and have perverted ethics. We also had moments of guilt that caused my brother to leave me for another love. Finally, when we let go of our adult hypocrisy and dared to love, and be loved, we realized who our true love was.
Without further ado, I don’t need to say these things to justify myself, nor am I trying to preach incest.
There are many lovers in the world who love each other but cannot be united because of various obstacles and twists and turns. Some of them are in the way of the norms of ethics and etiquette, can not be changed, can not transgress. In addition to the sigh of fate, in fact, you can also open up a space in the mind, where you can be boundless to let you run wild. As long as you make up your mind, you will find a way out!
May all lovers in the world be happily married, like me and my lover.