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Addiction

Chapter Twelve

Fight or Flight

by:

Rufus Quentin

October 29, 1998

I hated it. I sat there and seethed. Not only was it woefully and errantly wrong, it was also insulting. What kind of a misogynist lunatic came up with this crap? They pulled us out of class. They funneled us into the auditorium and they did their best to brainwash us with this fucked up abstinence only sex education talk. So there I was, sitting on the ground, feeling my ass get sore, and listening to some fat lady from the government betray her own gender. Every year the same damn thing. The same insulting, belittling tirade. The whole absence of any substance. Should'a figured, if the government had its hand in it, it was sure to be bullshit.

Abstinence only education isn't just about talking horny teenagers into not having sex. That won't work unless there is something at stake. Government bureaucrats and their religious zealot financiers are smart enough to know that. The whole policy hinges on women. It specifically targets us. They try to convince us that if we get anywhere near the genitals of the opposite sex, we are ruined forever. If we touch cock in any way before we are married, we do not deserve to touch the penises of our husbands. If we have premarital sex, we become unworthy of even having a husband. We become damaged goods. We are to become unlovable, unrespectable creatures. We are an old shoe. A dirty sock. Medical waste.

That's the only way it works. They see women as the more vulnerable ones. The ones easier to convince. They try and exploit insecurities. They remind us that marrying up is one of the only ways out of the hills. Then they inform us that the higher ups aren't too keen on sloppy seconds. No self-respecting husband would ever want the STD riddled whore every woman who loses their virginity becomes. The message for guys is pretty simple; maintain the status quo. Expect that your girlfriends are virgins. Tell them they are unworthy of you if they're not. Treat unwed non-virgins like shit. That's all they are. Fucking an unwed non-virgin is like fucking a cheap, unwashed, diseased hooker.

What kind of an asshole came up with this shit? Who decided it was a good idea to tell teenagers to blanket compare women, non-virgins, and rape victims to medical waste? Who skews the statistics to make all contraception seem like it was designed to fail? Who makes intimacy seem like a swim in a cesspool?

Granted, children shouldn't be having sex. If you can wait until marriage, or at least adulthood, kudos. I respect that. But having premarital sex shouldn't burden you with a lifelong stigma. Sex is great. It is all it's cracked up to be. I may not have known that then, but I do now. Sex is how you bond. Sex is communication. Sex is a need, just like the need for company or any person to person interaction. Yes, sex can be traumatic if you aren't ready for it, so wait if you can until you're emotionally mature enough to handle it. Yes, sex can spread disease and cause pregnancy, so play it safe and make sure you have access to contraceptives, read the labels and inform yourself about proper and consistent use. Yes, you need to disregard peer pressure and only sleep with those you really love because you really love them and because it is your choice to do so. Make sure that choice is clearly expressed. All these things take as much courage and tenacity as it takes to say "no" until you say "I do." Therefore don't disrespect women who made the choice, and especially those who didn't get to have the choice to begin with.

This kind of message ground my gears in the past. This year, well, I wasn't quite as well behaved as I was when I first heard it back in junior high. It stung extra hard when they told me mutual masturbation counted. That uncomfortable sensation of trouble wound itself up in my belly when they reminded me that giving oral sex was basically equivalent to full blown sex, which was the same as being ejaculated upon by the entire 1998 lineup of the Dallas Cowboys. I may be paraphrasing slightly, but not much. 1998 was the first year I got to listen to that stick with a history, a sordid one at that. It was my secret, but sometimes secrets hurt to keep. It felt like all the words were targeting me, shaming me, singling me out and announcing to the entire school that I'd given my very own brother a blowjob. I deserved to be shunned. I should be exiled. No self-respecting guy should ever look at me. At least I wasn't gay. I've heard execution prescribed for that "disorder" more than once. Seems Leviticus 20:13 is the only bible verse the average high school student in my area took to memory.

I didn't believe any of the talk and tried not to let it get to me, but it did. I already felt guilty because I wanted to spend time with Dustin. I didn't need more of a burden. I never believed for a minute that being with a guy ruined you for others, but Dustin, maybe he was a special case. We were fooling around enough for it to be a thing, a category unto itself in the limbo between dating and going steady. I didn't think it would lead anywhere, but we'd done it enough to give me something to have to explain when trying to lure in a future boyfriend.

"Where'd you learn to suck cock so well?" They would ask.

"Oh, you know, my brother let me practice on him."

"Who where you first intimate with?" They might want to know.

"Oh, just some boy from down the hall."

Maybe I was ruined. I wanted it. I wanted to be near Dustin. The happiest I was that fall was when we were close together. When he showed me his clumsy signs that meant that he wanted to fool around, I was sold in advance. I began to have thoughts, dirty ones. Dreams of the wetter variety gave me a rather frightening glimpse into my subconscious. At the time I chased the ideas away, even as I guided my brother's paw into my lap, and later his muzzle to my most intimate parts. Banishing those daydreams became progressively more difficult to do. They'd haunt me no matter what. The day the fat lady came to talk to us was also a day Dustin had off. Despite her warnings, or maybe in intentional rebellion against them, I was already organizing an illicit agenda for the afternoon. Just a few hours to go and Dustin and I would be in the forest, tending to...

"I talked to your brother," said Amanda, pulling me out of my fantasies. This had been happening a lot recently. Again I'd been caught off guard.

"What," I said, cocking my head, pretending it was an acoustic misunderstanding and not me being a space cadet.

"Talked to Dustin," she repeated, enunciating as if I were deaf.

"Oh god, about that. Dustin told me to tell you all to lay off a bit. I think he's not looking right now," I said with a mixture of anxiety and frustration, mostly of the selfish variety than out of any concern for my brother's sanity.

"Well not anymore," said the Lynx.

"Apparently he's found someone," Bryn chimed in.

"What?" I asked, my ears perking in genuine surprise. A lightning bolt shot through me, it would have stopped my heart from beating if not for a particularly clever epiphany at just the right moment. I knew who the girls were talking about. This someone my brother was seeing was me. I held onto my reaction, raised my eyebrows and perked my ears up straight. I was acting now, playing out a perhaps hyperbolic reaction to such news. "How could he? I've never seen her around," I said. "What's her name?"

"He wouldn't say," said Bryn.

"Apparently it's been informal for a while. It's not a girl from this school. Spill it, Alex. What do you know?"

The corona around my nose warmed up. I tried to demure my gaze, but there was no escaping it. The eyes of my clique were on me like the blinding light of an interrogation room. I would have to lie and needed to think quickly. God, I sucked at lying. "I really don't know much," I said, trying to bide myself a moment.

"How can you live with him and not know anything," asked Amanda.

"Isn't your truck still broken?" Bryn added, my best friend betraying me. "How does he get around? Does he get rides from her?"

"Has anyone stopped by? Has he mentioned a name?" Asked Jennifer, speaking with a mouth full of sandwich.

I watched the crumbs spew from the bear's mouth and bounce across the table. I struggled to piece together a story. Just as I opened my mouth, the lynx spoke.

"I think her name is Andrina, Andrea, Andra, something like that. At least that's what he said when I asked. Definitely and A-something-name. It's nothing serious yet, but it's getting there. That's all Dustin told me," the Lynx explained.

I suddenly felt like mashing my paws against my face. Dustin was indeed an idiot. I sunk into my seat, hoping I could avoid the spotlight, or preferably, get swallowed whole by a sudden rip in the earth's crust. Hell would save me. Couldn't possibly get any worse. Even Beelzebub couldn't torture a soul as effectively as a clique of curious teenage girls.

"What have you seen?" Said Bryn, directing the attention back at me. "You have to have noticed something."

"How old is she?" The bear continued, amending the greyhound's question.

I stammered, thinking back to my days with Riley. How did it all begin? I didn't have much relationship experience to go by. Riley happened almost by accident, so did Dustin. "He's on the phone a lot these days," I lied, remembering how I hogged the line for weeks.

"Have you ever picked up on her?"

"No," I said, "Dustin's usually the one who makes the call."

"Where's she from?"

"Come to think of it I do remember him dropping a girl's name. I think she's a year or two older than us. I thought she was a co-worker from Sam's pawn and gun, you know the place where he works? Must be her," I spoke, letting the lies spill out like a burst water main. I could almost feel my muzzle grow longer. The only way out of this shark tank was to chum the waters with what they wanted and hope that they take the bait.

"Older?" Said Jennifer.

"How old?" Said Amanda.

"No clue," I said. "Sounded young. Probably in her twenties."

"Figures he'd go for the older type. Probably has some sort of an Oedipal complex," said the bear, trying to sound smart by dropping some word she no doubt picked up on some morning talk-show.

"How would you know what an oedipal complex is?" asked Amanda.

"I know stuff," Jennifer rebutted, "I'm not stupid. Alex and Dustin don't have a mom, so he's probably trying to compensate."

"I don't think you need to remind Alex of that," Bryn chimed in.

"It makes perfect sense," said Amanda.

"Thank you," the bear said proudly and bit into her sandwich again, taking out another third.

"This has probably been going on for a while," Bryn said, reigning in the topic. "I gave him a few rides, talked to him, but he never seemed that interested in me."

"Come to think of it, me neither," said Amanda.

"Wouldn't even give me the time of day," said Jennifer.

"Sorry Alex," Bryn said, "I know you're uncomfortable with us hitting on your brother, but face it, we're in the same boat as you."

"I understand," I said, a little bit relieved.

"Would have been nice," Jennifer said.

"You're lucky you get to see him every day," Amanda said.

"Or unlucky," Bryn chimed in, astute as always.

"Gross," Amanda said.

"Don't put that thought in our heads," Jennifer said.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Amanda continued, asking me directly.

"Eww," I said, trying hard to modulate just the right amount of disgust in my voice.

"I don't know. He really is an attractive fellow. I think there's nothing wrong with admitting that," Bryn said.

"Yea, you'd have to be a dyke not to appreciate a guy like that," said Jennifer.

All eyes judgingly focused on the bear, then at me to see how I'd react. This was not a conversation I wanted to be a part of. My ears burnt with hot blood. I just wanted lunch to be over. "No, I guess I can see that he's cute, but I need more than looks. We have nothing in common. It would never happen," I said.

"You've thought about it, haven't you?" Amanda said.

I froze and stammered for a reply. I felt like a book that was just ripped open, as if my journal pages were just unfurled for all my friends to see. The words I've committed incest written in bold letters across my fur like a deep tattoo.

"If I were you, I know I'd have," Bryn of all people chimed in.

All of a sudden my friends were all laughing. Then the topic changed. Everything passed as if forgotten. I tried to finish my meal, but a leaden weight still hung over me. Dustin. He'd shaken my friends off his tail. Good. He was seeing someone, so they alleged. This person was me. Informal, he called it, if that was indeed the word from his mouth. Gossip could never be trusted. I had the inside scoop on this, but the title eluded me. There was something happening. My brother rejected his suitors. I'd stopped looking. Informal, yea, let's call it informal.

"You don't buy into any of that shit?" Amanda said, speaking to the bear.

I'd lost track of the conversation, distracted as usual by my train of thoughts.

"A lot is bullshit, but I do believe in saving yourself. I'm holding on to it for the right guy. I don't want to fuck just anyone. Look at Bryn, she agrees with me."

"That lady was..." Bryn paused, "kind of dumb," she continued, labeling our school's guest speaker with the harshest slander I'd ever heard coming from the greyhound's muzzle. "I choose not to because I don't want to deal with all the issues yet. I disagree that everyone should be forced to make the same choice I did based on fear, coercion, and downright half-truths. I'm in no rush and the perfect man for me isn't either. When it happens we'll be mature enough to deal with whatever comes of it."

"It sounds like you want to date a homo," Jennifer said.

"If you call all the guys willing to wait before boning you homos, Jenny, 99.9% of the world's men would be gay."

"Starting to feel like it already is. Do you watch TV?" The bear asked. "You know they're the reason we're getting these retarded sex talks. Polluted the entire pool."

Amanda sighed, not entirely in approval. Bryn went silent. She hated these kinds of conversations.

"You know, dyke stuff counts too," the bear said, her gaze sweeping to me as if trying to tell me something.

I quietly seethed.

"It's worse than fucking a guy, fucking a guy is natural. Who cares if you're married or not? I just don't get how they do it? What do they do, lick each other's pussies?"

Everyone grew quiet. Amanda hummed politely as if in approval, but even she didn't seem comfortable with the change in topics.

"I just can't picture it," the bear continued. "I guess it could be fun for a bit, but what's next? Do they use dildos?" Her eyes were fixed on me, as if the question were directed at me.

I stared at what was left of my meal. I'd lost my appetite. I nervously ordered the contents of my lunch tray to give myself anything else to do but appear to listen.

"I'm genuinely curious. In my mind they just sort of hump each other like stripped down Barbie dolls. Alex, what do they do?" She looked at me.

"I really wouldn't know. I don't have experience in that department," I quietly replied, letting my discomfort shine through my tone of voice as a subtextual suggestion that if you were smart, you would change the topic, but Jennifer wasn't smart.

"When two guys fuck, I get it. It's gross, but I get the picture. Girls? No clue. I'm guessing they just go down on each other until they whip out dildos or something like that for the grand finale, but I wonder what's the point? Why don't they just go for a guy and get the real thing? Once in a while I get it, college happens, experiment, but for life? Oh god, I think I would just get frustrated. I need a man."

"Would you lick a pussy?" Amanda said, tiring of the bear's diatribe, and attempting to end it by antagonizing her.

"Fuck no," she said.

"For money?" The lynx added.

"For a cool million maybe, but not for any less."

"Five hundred thousand is still a lot," said Amanda. "Can almost buy a house in California for that. Here you'd be rich as Rockefeller."

"Come talk to me when you have that much to offer."

"I knew you wanted to lick pussy," Amanda said and smirked.

"Fuck you," she said. "If I'm gonna go to hell I'd wanna go for a good reason. Licking pussy just kinda seems unfulfilling, like a wasted ticket. If I'm gonna chose eternal damnation, I'm gonna skip the middleman and just make some sort of deal directly with the devil. Go for a mansion, nice cars, loyal and hunky boyfriend. Ask to be an actress. Something worthwhile, something where I can say, 'you know, this was worth the price of my eternal soul'."

"Even if the devil made you lick pussy in addition to collecting your soul?" The Lynx asked.

"What's with all the pussy talk, you sound like Alex."

"I think Alex is the only one at this table who I haven't heard utter that awful word," Bryn said. "Now if you would excuse me, I have a French quiz to prepare for, Au revoir," she continued and elegantly excused herself.

"You know she's thinking about it," the bear said, shouting after the departing greyhound. She was starting to realize she'd dug herself into a hole and was trying to dig herself out by shoveling harder.

"A hearty fuck you to you, Jennifer," I said and followed Bryn's lead. We had the same quiz to worry about. While still in earshot I turned and punctuated my departure with, "Mange de la merde et meurs, pute!" And walked away proudly.

I'd learned not to let myself be intimidated by Jennifer. I'd been accused of lesbianism by others before, people with more standing than her. The people who mattered knew better, or at least that's how I saw it, but it had taken a while to grow that layer of emotional callus that enabled me to believe that. Very little of what that fat lady said stuck with me either, most was forgotten by the time the school day ended, but it left a mark. It all succeeded in reminding me I was now sexually active. Virginity, at least in my area, was something special for a girl. If things between Dustin and I kept their usual course, then I'd have to accept a certain inevitability and take the responsible precautions. The idea that we might actually go a step further still seemed too audacious to be true. Then again I'd underestimated how far we'd go before.

What occupied my thoughts through the last two periods and followed me home from school was a far different message. Dustin had taken himself off the market for me. Maybe he just said it just to evade my friends, but he knew he was throwing it into the rumor mill in doing so, which made it a matter of public record. He probably knew the message would make it to me in a matter of hours. He wanted me to know he was ready to stay single. Technically he wasn't. He had me. We were doing some pretty advanced stuff. The news was actually pretty scary. Perhaps I wasn't just a placeholder to him. With every act that happened I believed less and less that he was just a placeholder for me, despite my rational voice insisting that that's all he could ever be. Dustin turned down the chance at a normal relationship. That fool had no idea what he was doing. With the door closed we would probably just keep growing together. The thought was terrifying, but at the same time, I contemplated how to thank him without tipping my hand.

That afternoon was just another day in the forest, a cooler one with Halloween on the horizon, but our fur coats kept us warm. We were nearing the end of another homework session. My brother was naked and sat next to a pile of the clothes I'd let him earn, save for my boxers. If Dustin got his next question right, he could take them from me. I already felt antsy for him to finish, but I had to keep up my discipline or else he'd find ways of weaseling out of things, just when I had almost made him honor roll material. Finally he handed me his notebook. To both our disappointment I found an error.

"Ehhhh," I said, emulating the shaming sound of a buzzer. "Wrong answer."

"What do you mean wrong? I followed your instructions to the T. I did the exact same thing with the last one."

"I'll give you a hint. Check the coefficient."

"I did! I triple checked it!" Dustin insisted.

"Still wrong," I said. "You're too busy thinking about sucking my cock to concentrate."

Dustin asked, "Did you just refer to it as 'sucking your cock'?"

"I did," I said.

"Holy shit, I love you sis, but fuck. I call BS. I think you're just holding out on me."

Before I really knew what happened my brother was on top of me. His claws were raking through my fur, trying to get a hold on the rim of my boxers. "Hey," I said, fighting back with all my paws. "You haven't earned these yet. Rules are rules." I wiggled against him and tried to writhe away, but he had an arm around me in no time, holding me against his naked body and firm sheath. It was just play wrestling, the same thing we did as cubs, only this time it had definitely taken on a more adult quality. To my own excitement we became much more physical since the "no touching" rule bit the dust. If I weren't secretly okay with it, he'd have been nursing a black eye already.

I managed to slip from him a bit, but not entirely successfully. No matter how much I kicked and clawed to get away, he kept finding a hold on me, a firm one with his fingers sunk into my long fur. Even though we weighed about the same I couldn't support the whole burden of his frame. I came buckling down to my elbows and knees on the blanket with my brother atop me in a striking sexual position. "What the fuck?" I shouted, forced to put up with Dustin poking me under my tail with that sheath of his. "You fucking pervert!" I yelled, grabbing at his wrist to no avail. After a few missteps I managed to liberate myself from him, but without my boxers. They stayed in his paws as I scrambled away and to my feet. I stood as naked as my brother, panting with excitement.

"What's it with you and boxers anyway?" My brother asked, inspecting the fabric he'd successfully deprived me of.

"Give those back," I said.

"Not until you tell me why you always wear boy shorts. Honestly."

"I like the way they feel," I said, stepping forward and unsuccessfully groping for them.

"I understand your preference for guy's clothes. But why so far as boxers? I know you had to take hand me downs, but were we really that poor that you had to take our underwear?"

"In the beginning dad bought bulk. I got what you guys got; those old briefs all kids wear. When you guys switched, I switched too. I didn't really know they were gender specific until a little later. At that point I just said fuck it, I do what I want. Women's underwear doesn't flatter me anyway."

"Why? I think you have a great body."

I never liked the whole body topic. It just made me feel my nakedness more than ever. I made another swipe and then another, trying to claw back my underwear. My brother eluded me every time, getting to his feet in the process. "What's with you?" He said. "I bet these fit me!"

"Don't you dare," I said, trying again in vain to get them a hold of them, but he was already off running, clumsily trying at the same time to hop a leg into my underwear. I chased him around the fort three times, during which he managed to slip into my boxers. "Get your dirty junk out of those," I said, running around naked like a fool. "You're stretching them out!"

"They feel fine to me," Dustin shouted, "perfect fit!"

I chased him into the trees with all of my energy, but my brother was always a few yards ahead of me. It reminded me of the capture the flag days, only this time much more embarrassing. We ran deep into the forest, off our paths and into the denser undergrowth. I dodged low branches and bushes, panting in the scent of woods and earth. Leaves crunched beneath my wrapped foot-paws. Twigs snapped under my steps. If I ever lost sight of my brother, I just followed his noise until I saw his shape. He ran just to tease me, in no particular direction, sometimes just circles around me, popping here and there from around a tree with his tongue stuck out at me.

I noticed that the two plus months of jogging actually paid off. I wasn't getting winded. I felt full of energy. I also realized I wasn't chasing my brother anymore. He was chasing me. I giggled like I hadn't in years, jumping from him as he gained on me and tried to grab me by the tail. He was always faster than me. He could have caught me if he wanted to, but he just kept me going, gleefully bounding over fallen logs and patches of mud. He'd outflank me and pounce at me from the side. Only quick leaps kept me from face-planting into the leaves and dirt. I forgot all about the underwear. I wouldn't have put them on, even if he'd handed them to me. I enjoyed the freedom of having a whole wilderness to ourselves. I could run and feel the air streaming through my fur, filling my lungs with refreshing coolness. No one's eyes were on me, aside those of my brother, and he had a special privilege unique in my world.

Somehow I found myself running through an open area with only a few trees with high canopies in full blown autumn colors. There were no bushes or saplings, just a carpet of crunchy orange and red. I stopped, having lost sight of my brother. I looked around and panted in the scent of decaying leaves. Suddenly everything around me spun in a blur as some force knocked me off my feet. I found myself rolling through the leaves with someone on top me, recognizing immediately the shades of fur we had in common. My brother came to rest on top of me, pinning down my naked body flecked only in pieces of dry leaves. He smiled down at me, breathing as heavily as I, and said, "Got you."

"Wasn't I after you?"

"Oh, I guess you got me then."

I giggled, feeling more than a bit bashful in my given position. My brother licked me over the tip of my muzzle. I returned the lick without thinking. I gazed down his nose, into his face and eyes as his fingers carefully brushed bits of leaf off my fur. I saw Dustin for a moment not as a sibling, but as a handsome young scoundrel with so much potential. I wished so deeply that I could forget the genetics uniting us and fall into an elective amnesia so that the desires circulating like satellites would not seem so wrong.

Our muzzles tilted opposite directions and interlocked in a way to permit the deepest of kisses, one no siblings should ever emulate. The space inside our muzzles served as playground for our tongues, no corner or aspect taboo. His slithered into my mouth and mine into his, lapping over tooth and tongue in a sensual dance. My paws traveled down my brother's flanks in a way they never had before, with an improvised sensual slowness. My fingers sunk into his fur and followed the grain of his tufts down to his waist. I tugged the elastic of my boxers off his male hips, just far enough to expose him. I reached for his maleness with both my paws. I gently took hold of his balls with one hand and discovered his excitement with the other. With slow strokes I caressed his firm sheath and the first few inches of canine arousal. He moaned softly into the kiss with the resonance of a growl, as if warning me of something I dare not awaken.

In my inexperience I kept going, feeling his warm length grow in my paw. My fingers teased his tip and swept down his smooth skin, over the beginning stages of his knot. In the other I massaged his twin orbs in their furry pouch, stilling my curiosity during the moments where everything seemed permitted. Meanwhile my brother braced himself on one arm and took his turn exploring my body, passing briefly over my breast before caressing further south. My legs spread as if on instinct, sensing the light approach of his fingertips. I shuddered as he came into contact with my labia and brushed aside the soaked fur in advance of further exploration.

We were such fools. Every moment we let pass was a dare to drag things out. I don't think either of us understood the gravity of where we'd taken things. We'd set up and broken too many blurry boundaries, ignorant of the emotions thrown into play when two bodies shed their physical and metaphorical layers. I for one didn't know how to stop. I held his knotted and pre-slick length with both my paws, squeezing and stroking in an attempt to mimic what the inside of a woman felt like. A humm reverberated into the kiss as Dustin worked two fingers into my sex. I trembled, hips rising and thighs spreading in response to his internal touch. His paw-pads caressed my very wet inner walls, feeling my vagina as deep as they could probe. He then began to thrust his fingers in and out, suggesting the movement and feeling of another body part.

It became obvious what the both of us were thinking. We just lacked the temerity to ask for it. I felt so worked up; the tingle in my lower belly was as bad as ever. I knew exactly what it meant. Somehow I suspected that my brother's fingering, as good as it felt, just wasn't going to cut it. What I stroked in my paws seemed the perfect answer, and as he bucked through my fingers I decided he was the perfect fit to fill the aching void within me. All I needed to do was slip him in. I was sure he wouldn't complain.

Then it sank in just how terrifyingly close we were to doing it. Was I even ready for sex? Was I ready to lose my virginity to my brother? Was this how I wanted to lose it, as a result of just another escalation? Of course I loved him, but did I love him _that_way? The terrible word incest hung over me, an unspeakable, once distant concept now stood at the threshold of my home.

My brother broke our long kiss and looked down at me. He wore a wordless smile poorly hiding something he wanted to ask, displaying a need I couldn't fault him for having. This was it. The moment had found us. It could be here, it could be now, I thought to myself. You wanted this didn't you, I teased myself. It's here. Knowing the answer I needed to give him split me in two.

"We can't," I said, looking him in the eyes, into the soft and expressive stare that showed me he was capable of far more than just the carnal flings we'd been practicing until then. A doleful break afflicted my voice.

"Why not?" He said, quite clearly aware of what I meant.

"We just can't."

"Is this about the condoms... I'm sure I can find some if I ask around..."

"It's not just that."

He paused and looked at me with an expressive gaze. The disappointment I read in his features seemed to double. It pained me to see him that way. I let go of his arousal and he slipped his fingers from me. The leaves crunched as he rolled over off and sat beside me, his cock pointing erect from his lap. I sat up too and brushed debris off my shoulders and flanks, aroused to the point of agony, and beyond frustrated that the prospects of getting off that day had spilled down the drain. We looked at each other until I could no longer bear to see his disappointment. "I'm sorry," I said, sitting there, feeling broken.

"It's alright," he said. "Do you need to talk about it?"

"No. I just need to think."

"Don't forget that I'm here too. I want to help."

"Thanks," I said, slowly standing up on wobbly legs. I turned away from my brother and took a few steps through the forest, sweeping my paws over my fur to straighten out the loose follicles and cleanse myself. I felt the ache where my brother's fingers had been. I wished them back there. I would settle for his muzzle, but the time for that had passed, perhaps for good if I were as strong and wise as I needed to be. It was quiet. The cicada had all died off. We were alone. Had it happened, no one would have ever found out. I cursed my decision and I felt alone, even with my brother, my best friend, a short distance away. Dustin stood up and offered me my boxers back. I slipped them on without any further conversation. We retraced the distance we'd run. It seemed so much further, so much more difficult to make it back to the fort. With every day cut a few minutes shorter, those late October days ended too soon. We had just enough light left to find our clothes and pack our things and we made it home in twilight.

That was it for the day; a walk home, separate showers, a quiet dinner, and a long evening alone in my room. Nothing could hold my attention for more than a few minutes. Everything I considered fun ceased to be. The only thing I could do was lay there on my bed with my headset on, tethered to my cassette player, listening to mixtapes. What I really wanted to do was look at our photographs, or better yet, to walk down the hall to his room. I just wanted to say hi and feel the awkward tension. The entire week went the same way. In advanced chemistry, as I blankly stared at the teacher explaining advanced titration formulas, my mind had begun to wander, drifting to more entertaining thoughts, ones triggering the rush of blood between my legs and that all too familiar itch. I thought to myself, "Yea, you're ready."

"Wait, no you're not," replied an inner voice. I shifted in my seat, renewing my posture and attention and hoped nobody could sense my brief lapse into fantasy and arousal.

Silently sitting in the cafeteria among my circle of friends, listening but not participating in whatever it was they were conversing about, the words came again, "Yea, you're ready for this; you'll need to let Dustin know."

"Naa, I can't be." I brushed off and turned to small-talk with my neighbor.

As Dustin and I rode the bus home, our tightly intertwined paws carefully concealed under his jacket, and our glances cast in intentionally non-converging directions in our best performance of teenage school-weary indifference, I thought, "You're ready, lean over and whisper it in his ear. You can be doing this as soon as the bus drops you off."

"Come on," the rational voice within me whispered, "you need more time to know for sure." It's thin and ever fainter words quivering with an accent of futility as it sided with a losing cause.

That night I tossed and turned with the irritating ache of arousal deep in my belly, fighting the urge to let my paws wander just to get some shut-eye. After watching minutes turn to hours in the red glow of my alarm clock, I submitted and felt my paw move between my legs as if on its own volition. My fingers slipped under the drawstring of my PJ bottoms following the grain of my fur into the heat of my boxers. I paused with a little bit of surprise, suddenly feeling wetness penetrate the fur on my paw, discovering just how soaked my pubic fur had become. I thanked the fact that I was alone, for anyone could have seen the signs of shame on me, knowing exactly what kind thoughts and memories triggered my state.

Despite the rush of blood warming my already discernibly flushed muzzle and ears, and the teeth gritting sensation that arose from going against better judgment, my fingers slid down through the drenched sliver of my sex, picking up my heat and moisture in a slow self-tease. I could feel my puffy vulva slide between my fingers. My pads massaged the spread folds, trying to replicate a foreign touch; the first time I ever let anyone share my deepest intimacy. I began to rub my erect pearl through the hood of skin, drawing circles around the little bump. As the first sparks of pleasure ran through me, I began to imagine what it would be like if my brother and I actually went through with it.

It would be out in the forest, not in my bedroom or anywhere else. The sun would be shining and the sounds of nature would be everywhere, be they clichés of pulp romance or not, this was my fantasy. It would be his nose against my clit and not my fingers. His warm breath would make all the difference. I'd go down on him again, for sure, but I wouldn't let him come. Maybe we would tease each other, take turns, and make each other more eager, stop just shy of climax and begin again.

I wanted him on top of me. I would be on my back and we would be face to face like where we stopped the other day. He would kiss me and suckle upon my breasts, the way he'd shown a fondness for. When I would be ready, I'd wrap my legs around him and he would slip in, and I'd finally get to know what his cock feels like inside me. I dipped my finger into my warm pussy and stirred around just inside my opening. Something like this, I thought, just bigger and deeper. My other paw came to help the first, taking over the job of teasing my clit, while a second finger joined the other inside my vagina. I began to thrust my finger tips deeper, anticipating the movements of sex. I could almost recreate my brother's scent from memory, and I almost felt the warmth of his panting on my face as my body flushed in arousal.

I spread my fingers inside myself again and sighed. I knew I must have felt a mere suggestion of the real thing. He would move slowly at first, considerate of my first time. I bet he would get deep. I wonder what that feels like. He's big. Will it hurt? What if it hurts? Maybe, I thought and spread my fingers within me and wiggled. This wasn't painful at all. There wouldn't be much if any, and if it does I can get over it. Will I even get him to fit? I think he'll fit. I'm sure he'll be the perfect fit, he is your brother after all.

Eww, you want to have sex with your own brother! The thought which was now more of an admission momentarily brought me back to my room and made me conscious of what I was doing, of what I was truly considering. The realness of it all terrified me. I wondered if I should be disgusted with myself. Is that really so wrong, I asked myself. Have you seen how he looks? He's become such a decent guy. He'll make whoever he chooses happy, even if he can be a dork. I do love him and I trust him. He's gotta be the right one. There is no one else in the world that I love so much. Who else would it be? It could take years before I find someone like him. Can I wait that long? I hung on the last question for a while, even as my fingers restarted their work.

I could feel my heart's rapid pace beneath my breasts and hear its thump reverberating in my ears like the pounding of some primitive and feverish tribal dance. All the taboo thoughts, fantasies, and ideas I shouldn't be having streamed vivid and untethered throughout the darkness of my bedroom. Instead of chasing the thoughts away or trying to fetter them to the part of my brain responsible for repression or forgetting, I let them have their moment. I let them become particularly graphic and explicit. I let myself be haunted by them. With partly opened eyes I watched them appear and vanish like specters, vacillating between erotic dream and nightmare in the unfocused black within dilated pupils. Without restraint my thoughts grew ever more wrong, yet ever more tempting and satisfying.

He would go faster, harder, and probably moan. He'll enjoy himself on me and of course he'll want to cum. Maybe I'd even let him cum inside me, I thought for a fraction of a second. Oh god no, I wouldn't dare, but I'm sure it would feel really nice. If only I had the pill, then I'd let him. Yea, if only I had the pill I'd let him. Would I feel him spurt? Would it feel warm? Oh god, I really want to find out. I just want to hold him when he cums. He is so cute when he cums. I'll make sure I'm holding him really close when he does. He'll pant on me the way he always does, when he's about to. It'll feel warm. I'll kiss him when he does, on the nose, all over the muzzle, and then I'll join him and cum.

I would feel him throb right here, I thought to myself, as I vigorously pushed my fingertips as deep into me as I could. My paw-pads pressed upon right inner folds. Soaked fingers wiggled within me, reaching for those hard to reach places, my fur tickling deep within, chasing after that electric little itch. The image of my brother taking the place of my paw played in life-like detail in my imagination. I could almost feel the warmth of his seed spread where I couldn't reach.

My back arched, my belly tensed, and a faint peep of pleasure left my muzzle. My sex flexed around my fingers, quivering in a moment of climax. My other paw frantically rubbed my jerking clit, begging the waves of pleasure not to stop. I clenched my teeth to prevent further broadcast of sound. I could feel the quivers rock through my belly in powerful bursts. The ache left me with each rapid pulse. My limbs, ears, and even my tail tingled in the moment and for a few minutes after the spasms died down.

As the tension left me body and I sank back into the sheets, sweating and overheated under the covers, the words came again, "You're ready. It's going to happen and you want it too."

"Yea," I admitted to myself as I lay there panting, listening to the rapid thump of my heart, and watching the little floating sparks dash through the dark within my peripheral vision. "I'm ready for this."

Thus the decision was made. It would happen. I, Alex Finlay, was going to finally have sex. It felt liberating, maybe, to have made a decision. Who cares if it was incest? Half of European royalty committed incest and they put their faces on coinage. Then why was incest always so tragic? Oedipus, Siegmund and Sieglinde, and all those literary examples. Why did they always end so badly? Why did I feel this innate aversion to it? Why was I programmed to know that it's so very wrong? It would only really be bad if we got a cub from it, I reasoned. Eww, I was certainly not going to let that happen! Where were we going to get protection? The line, "Oh god, I'm really going to do it, aren't I?" echoed through my thoughts into the deep night.

I tossed and turned all night. Thoughts, worries, fantasies played out within my mind. At times my sex burned with a strong desire for another round. I was almost tempted to go to my brother's room then and there, if not to slip under the covers then just to tell him that yes, I wanted him to be my first. A half hour later some fear or new worry extinguished those flames, only to be rekindled as soon as my thoughts reset. I kicked off the blankets while burning up and pulled them back up to my shoulders a moment later chilled to the bone. I turned on the light, got up, went to the bathroom, and felt a shock as I saw myself in the mirror. The stride of my PJs was soaked through as if I had wet myself. I took a leak and darted back to my bedroom through the dark, glad no one turned on a light on me. My room smelt like arousal. I cracked open a window and wished my door had a lock. I changed and went back to bed, climbing into sheets that carried my intimate scent. It wasn't until the night turned gray and the first birds began to sing that I got any sleep. My doze, punctuated by nightmares, felt like only a second. Thankfully the alarm ripped me from those soon enough. Though tired and dazed, feeling as unsexy as possible, I thought to myself again, "I'm really going to do it, aren't I?" I knew then that I meant it.