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Addiction

Chapter Twenty

The Point of no Return

By:

Rufus Quentin

January, 1999

It's hard to pinpoint the day it actually happened. It could have been any number of times, since we got pretty careless back then. If I had to name a time, I would credit a day in mid-January. I don't remember the exact date, but the experience itself never left me. School had started again and I was officially in my last semester as a senior. The memory of what happened is still fairly vivid, as if it's etched as deep as all the scars the consequences left behind. It happened on one of the coldest nights of the year, but I was warm, safe inside my home. Our father was in Charleston. Just my brother and I were the usual culprits.

To understand exactly what happened involves a sequence of events. It began innocent as always. It wasn't until after New Year's when we started talking about it. The first time we talked about it occurred during one of our cuddle sessions on the living room couch, one where we pushed back our weekday bedtime to indulge in a few late night talk shows. The idea seemed kind of silly at first, but as the winter dragged on and the both of us grew more and more stir-crazy alone in our dad's isolated little house in the middle of fucking nowhere, the topic popped up frequently after that, at the breakfast table, on the commute to school, and definitely after sex. We'd call it different things like an outing, or a day trip, or an excursion, or anything to break up the cabin fever and the tedium of winter. Eventually the word 'date' slipped. It was Dustin who uttered it. He immediately recanted and replaced the word with 'errand,' but it was too late to disguise the subtext dropped with that bomb.

The concept of a date precludes romantic interest or at least it expresses the openness to such. As siblings we both shied away from admitting that the notion of romantic interest could ever exist between us, in part because it was impossible, and in part because it was already there in force. Calling a trip a date meant admitting that the sordid combination of friendship, bonding, and rampant fucking poisoned us. An emotion or a peculiar cocktail thereof inhabited our bodies. It ran through our veins like the bloodline we shared. Like a drug it corrupted us, influenced our behavior, and turned us into people very different than who we were back in the fall. We became each other's trigger, dealer, and fix all at once. The convenience of having such a readily available and cheap vice heightened the risk that we may at one point face the possibility that we were hooked.

Calling an outing a date meant that we were past the point of no return. A date was an admission that we were brother and sister, fraternal twins at that, and that we were in love. Nomenclature aside, I immediately agreed to my brother's proposition. We would go to Huntington. There wasn't much else to do in the area. A date was set, and on a Saturday morning the both of us got up early, had our showers and our coffee, and dressed in our winter gear. A few inches of snow had finally fallen during the latest cold snap. The whole valley, the whole county was under a few inches of white. The air was crisp and the sky was blue, save for the few whips of cirrus clouds and the geometric patterns of airplane con-trails.

He came downstairs in his usual army surplus jacket. I told Dustin he looked cute in his cold weather gear. He lost his scarf, so I gave him one of mine and tied it around his neck. I tucked his ears under his beanie and made sure he was snug in his outfit, performing a little maternal ritual I had to learn by watching other mothers send their children off to school rather than direct experience of conscientious mothering. I gave him a kiss too, one that took me out of my mother figure role, and bounced toward the door. The freezing air greeted me, but it couldn't chill my enthusiasm. Our adventure or our date, whatever we called it, lay before us.

I drove us up in the Crown Vic. We made it to the city around noon and ate lunch in a diner, someplace cheap but not fast food cheap. We walked down Fourth Avenue in the Historic District, feeling small at the foot of what we considered skyscrapers. I got to peruse some comic book shops and crafts stores, Dustin of course made a bee-line to his favorite gun shop to shoot the shit with its owner. We saw whatever was playing at the Keith Albee, and ended up on a stroll through Ritter Park. We cut clear across the snow, leaving two pairs of paw-prints behind us, holding each other's gloved paws because there was no one around to recognize us, and even then we were pretty well disguised in winter clothes. The feeling of freedom, of being able to play the role of a loving mate, of not being judged for keeping close the person I'd fallen in love with filled me with joy. It gave me a taste of what could await me if the two of us survived the next six to nine months, if the right colleges came through and my most ambitious hopes became reality.

We paused on the stone footbridge over Four Pole Creek. A few other couples enjoyed the splendid afternoon with us. I looked at Dustin and he looked at me. He kissed me on the lips. It took me by surprise. I looked around as if the people around knew us, and/or recognized the universal taboo occurring right before their eyes.

"Dusty," I said, looking into his eyes, wordlessly chastising him for nearly blowing our cover.

"What?" He said, as if offended.

"We shouldn't."

"Relax. Like anyone recognizes us." Dustin looked around. Not a single person paid us any heed.

"They might think we're related," I said.

"It's not that obvious," he said. "We're not the first two collies to find our way together. Up here you have to look at our driver's licenses, or better yet our birth-certificates to figure it out. And then only like half the people even care."

"I don't want to risk it," I said.

"Here," he said, and repositioned me in front of him, standing in the middle of the walkway. His muzzle was just a few inches away from mine. We were uncomfortably close. "Now kiss me," he continued.

"Come on, let's do it over there behind a tree," I said.

"Do it or I'll kiss you," he threatened, his ears doing their best fox impersonation.

I shook my head, but at the same time, I struggled with the urge I always felt when his muzzle waited so temptingly close to mine. I looked into the eyes of the crooked-eared dork who somehow weaseled his way into my heart and got stuck somewhere between sibling and mate like some slapstick comic predicament only cartoon characters find themselves in. I gave in and kissed him. It wasn't a French kiss, nor the kind you wanted to shout "get a room" at, but it was one that clearly broadcast to everyone around "how cute, these two rough collies are in love." My tail wagged behind me. It felt like the most liberating thing I'd ever done. Indeed no one gasped and brought their paws in front of their muzzles. No one's features grimaced with disgust. No one whispered condemnation under their breath. No one noticed at all. We were just a young boy and girl doing what young boys and girls do, something so anodyne people were blind to it.

We had to be on the road fairly early. We didn't want to drive to long in the dark. Dustin held the wheel on the way home. I got to sit in the passenger's side and watch the snow glow in the pinks and purples of a winter sunset. The barren forested hillsides whizzed gray outside the window. We were about to pass a sleazy sex shop on the outskirts of town, a place I'd never been tempted to ever visit before. This time I anticipated the exit. I felt myself working up the courage to ask Dustin to pull over. This was the only place I could think of where we could probably get condoms without being recognized. I felt like showing Dustin how much I loved him when we got home. For that we needed them badly. I had enough money left in my pocket to buy a small pack. I looked over at Dustin, expecting him to make the suggestion, but his mind was apparently someplace else. I saw the exit coming up. I saw the sign, but I was too much of a coward to bring it up.

I silently watched our car skip the exit. My eyes followed the glowing sign as it passed and disappeared behind my shoulder into the car's blind spot. I felt disappointment. I hated relying on my flawed willpower. I knew it was a matter of when, not if, another fuck up happened. It would be a few weeks before I was safely out of my fertile window. I didn't know if I could wait that long. I put my paw on Dustin's thigh and pet him as he drove. We didn't say much on the way down, but somehow I wanted to tell my brother "today you were a good pup. Tonight you earned something special."

If I had a time machine, I would probably go back to a point right around then. I wished I could have imbued myself at that precise moment in time with the courage to ask my brother to turn around and stop for some condoms. Better yet I would have imbued us both. Safe sex is not just a girl's responsibility. It's also not just a guy's duty. It takes both partners to be each other's safety nets. It takes courage and patience not to make the mistakes we did. Couples absolutely need each other in order to stand up in the face of a piss poor abstinence only sex education system, and confront a political agenda designed to keep kids ignorant of their own bodies and somehow make men the victims of women who chose to, or were forced to have sex before marriage. Sex is a wonderful thing. If you are ready to handle the responsibility emotionally and physically, which at the age of eighteen we were just barely beginning to be, then have the courage to insist that one of the many precautionary methods is available. This is what I would have told myself.

Unfortunately I didn't and still don't have access to time traveling technology. I can only replay the memory and watch myself drive down the road with my brother past the point of no return. I still look for the precise moment that would have made a difference. Maybe it was the moment we kept heading straight down the road instead of veering off for a short and shady visit to that sex shop. Maybe it happened earlier at some unnamable point during the fall when our attraction kindled into something more than just experimentation. Maybe it happened later that night. Maybe it had already happened and those condoms wouldn't have helped anyway. Maybe some unprotected sex earlier in the month had already rendered us fucked. One doesn't need to tie for it to stick. I'll never know for sure. Not all boundaries are as apparent as the cleanly marked paint of an exit veering off the highway.

When we got home only a faint gray glow on the western horizon reminded us of the day. It had grown frigid again. We pulled into the garage and made a beeline for the warmth of our home. Once indoors we slipped free of our winter gear and parted ways. The thing about dating your brother is that there are no moments of longing and confession in front of the door. There is no pressure for a goodnight kiss and there are no clichés like "I had an amazing time with you today," "Can I come in for a bit," or "I guess I'll see you on Monday then. Call me?" The night was young and there was no rush to show appreciation for good behavior.

Ours was definitely an odd relationship. It certainly didn't fit the model 80's movies and 90's youth culture conditioned me to expect. What we had resembled nothing I saw at school, and not just because everything about it remained top secret. The fact that we put the cart ahead of the horse and started fucking before dating was what one could call "progressive" in the politest of terms. Sometimes it felt a bit too progressive even for me, but I couldn't argue with the results.

After a microwavable dinner Dustin and I settled in for the evening on or living room sofa. He fiddled with a number of gun parts, the elements of a new toy scattered on the coffee table, and I lay on my back and played with my new toy, a used copy of Chrono Trigger. My legs wrapped around my brother and inhibited his work ever so slightly. If an image could best describe the vast majority of our relationship, that moment would illustrate it better than any other, since we spent so much time in exactly that way. Quiet togetherness, proximity to my best friend, a bond that didn't need to be confessed or proven to exist. This is what love looks like to me. It was what I wanted all along. Though I broke protocol in attaining it, I'd attained the perfect result. The last thing on earth I wanted was for things to change.

A sad but inescapable reality is that things do change, even if in a small way. Sometimes we needed to scurry into more innocent positions when dad came home. Sometimes a responsibility calls. More often than anything else a full bladder forces you up and away, even if for just a minute or two. The latter is the most unpleasant, and it's the problem I began to think I was dealing with that night. Another problem appeared and began to distract me from one of the most addictive SNES games ever produced. I began to acknowledge some rather wicked thoughts involving my brother and me. I thought of him and how we kissed on the bridge, the little affections we gave each other all day, and about how close he felt between my ankles and how easy it would be to escalate things a notch. These little sprites of memory and fantasy made the game more of a chore than an indulgence. As they orbited my mind like naughty little planets I began to realize it wasn't' a full bladder I was dealing with, I was aroused, which if left untouched can become just as painful and urgent as the need to pee.

I began to fidget as if a run to the bathroom was indeed in my near future. Needless to say I have a libido too. Dustin's was far greater than mine, which meant slaking his meant sure mine went more than satisfied. Usually Dustin came to my door if he wanted to get something started. It always began with a knock, his knock; the three soft taps. He would push the door open and wordlessly lean against the frame. A look, a certain flick of his ears, or a twitch of his tail told me all he wanted to say. He usually had me by then, but if any doubts or burdens lingered his quiet presence melted them away. This time I was the one to get things started. I succumbed to the warmth and emptiness between my legs, the feeling I'd been fighting for hours if I were totally honest with myself.

I still wasn't well versed in the art of initiating sex. I began by squeezing my brother with my legs, but when that failed to even result in acknowledgement, I resorted to playfully kicking him. I kneaded his flanks with my foot-paws, practically walking up his side. I'd nudge his arm with my toes in an effort to make his work as difficult as possible, but even that resulted in cold-shoulder treatment. It took a foot paw to the face to get Dustin to even respond.

"Quit it," he said, nearly tasting foot-pad.

Irked, I began to push him away.

"What are you doing?" Dustin said as my lower body strength nudged him against his side's armrest.

"Kickin' ya," I teased, permitting myself to share his accent.

"Why? What'd I do?" He said.

"Hoggin' up my side of the couch."

"Bullshit! You're the one taking up all the space all laid out like that, getting up in my business!"

"Your business? What you' doing? Playing with your gun again?" I asked, directing a foot-paw to his lap.

"Least I'm not nerding it out with an RPG. Can't believe you're getting into those now."

"What is that? Yugoslav metal? I can't believe you're getting into that now."

"Shit I can afford," he protested.

"Shit that's fun," I countered.

Dustin glared at me. I glared right back at him. My cocked ears poised to hear the next words out of his muzzle and my mind ready to contradict them. Slowly and awkwardly my right foot-paw rubbed my brother's crotch as if to feel for proof he was as excited as I. My brother tried to swat me away. My persistence annoyed him much to my pleasure. I experimented, unsuccessfully I might add, with tugging down his fly with my toe-claw. He had enough when I slipped and foot-pawed him in the balls. That thoroughly distracted him from his work. After an expression of pain he leapt on top of me. Grabbing my arms and pinning them down with delightful authority. I resisted as best I could, wildly swinging knees and foot-paws in his general direction.

"You bitch," he said, trying his best to pin me down.

"Dick," I taunted.

"Get your stinkin' foot-paws off of me."

"You get your stinkin' tail off my couch."

"Go be a nerd someplace else. That music is fucking annoying."

"You go be a redneck someplace else. You smell like a toolshed."

My brother pinned me down pretty good, but he couldn't restrain both my arms and legs. I eventually crossed my ankles behind his back in a very submissive, not to mention suggestive position. I drew him closer rather than push him away. Still I tried to squirm beneath him and turn the tables on him. Even on my back I felt dominant and wanted to be on top. Dustin wasn't having any of that. His weight kept me pinned and his eyes glared with increasing understanding, annoyance turned to slyness.

Dustin wafted of the scent of gun-oil and solvent, a concoction of aromas I'd long since come to think of as erotic. As my brother hovered over me and I allowed him to restrain me, those fragrances had as potent an effect on me as any combination of pheromones. It was a dangerous and risky combination. Now with the sensations multiplying and the closeness at hand, I felt as turned on as I ever remember being. The itch I felt could have been the normal craving, perhaps a symptom of the crush I had on him, or perhaps the beginning of that terrible little fertile cycle and its influence on my behavior.

Once Dustin realized he'd just fallen for my trap his struggle grew amorous in nature. He bucked at me as if to show me what we could be doing if it weren't for our pesky clothes; as if a good fuck were punishment for my misbehavior. He tried to kiss me, but I refused, turning my muzzle away from him and calling him names. Channeling my inner fox I cleverly managed to disguise how bad I needed to get laid while at the same time making it seem like fucking was his idea. Either way, he had to earn it now, which he did with a conniving sequence of nibbles.

Every lick and kiss up my neck and lower jaw incrementally abated my resistance, even if it was pretend to begin with. My body tingled as if charged with an electric current. Every part of my being became attracted to my brother as if magnetized. Instead of pushing him away, I pulled him closer. My hips ground against him, returning his gruff bucks in kind. We rocked on the couch in a very explicit way as if pretending we were well underway in carrying out our incestuous misbehavior. Our eyes beamed the severity of our longing for one another, communicating coital intentions with uncompromising intensity.

Dustin ended with a kiss on the tip of my muzzle. From the moment our lips touched I knew I would get what I wanted. It didn't take long for the kiss to escalate and for my tongue to ease into his muzzle and writhe beside his between his fangs. My tail swooshed beneath me in an irrepressible sign of elation. We made out until we lost track of time, proving to each other what fucked up siblings we'd become. The way we kissed, the way we groped, the way we heated each other's bodies up until they were burning, made it obvious that we were hopelessly far gone in love. My brother's taste and his scents had their conditioned effect on me, sending my heart beating and breathing faster as if on overdrive.

I could have lost myself into the kiss, and let our embrace become my world, but Dustin brought me back into the present. His muzzle pulled away, allowing our eyes to meet. My ears averted in a demure sweep as I began to feel a bit more forward than usual. He let go of my arm. There was no more need to restrain it. His paw swept over my muzzle and nudged my chin up ever so slightly until our noses touched. It was difficult not to chuckle, for in those moments where the absurdity of the situation became apparent, everything seemed silly.

I wordlessly glanced at him, applying the same technique of silence he used to suggest what we could never be caught asking for. His alert demeanor seemed to ease as the seconds passed, as he became conscious of what exactly I insinuated. His ears perked and a pleasant smile came across his muzzle. That moment I knew I'd done it. I'd successfully turned on my sibling and made him more than acquiescent to the prospect of committing incest. Another kiss more intensive than the last united our muzzles but it too concluded when we both understood where things were headed. We nodded at one another before abandoning everything else.

"My bedroom or yours?" I asked, taking Dustin's line.

"Whichever you want," he said.

"Mine then," I said, ready to lead the way.

Once we'd untangled ourselves from one another we padded through the house. Paw in paw and with spry steps we led each other up the stairs, down the hall, and through my door, casting suggestive glances over our shoulders at each other. We entered into my room and I closed the door behind us, trapping my brother in my domain. I stood idly by, fidgeting out of anticipation as I watched my own brother crawl upon my bed. I always felt a great rush in those preliminary moments.

As I watched, trying not to reveal too much excitement, I realized I forgot to ask about the condom. I wasn't about to trouble him with a trip back into his room. Even if I did ask, he may have told me he didn't have any, which would have made things awkward. I thought of the sex shop near Huntington, the one we passed that afternoon and wished we had indeed made a pit stop. I contented myself in knowing other methods existed, not least banking on our lucky streak. My rational side confidently decided I would simply have to remind him to pull out, while at the same time I envisioned his knot inside my pussy to the point where I could almost feel it swelling against that perfect little spot inside me. I distracted myself from those thoughts by beginning to get undressed. Even as I unlatched my belt and slipped my jeans down my slender legs, I knew which side of me would win that conflict. I made the decision before I even pulled my shirt over my head.

I crawled beside Dustin as soon as my pants landed around my ankles and watched Dustin take his turn getting undressed over the mounds of my bra. He lost his clothes without much ceremony, wiggling out of his pants and tossing aside his shirt as if he were in a rush to take a shower. I missed the buildup he used to put into his striptease, now as if all at once he was undressed showing me his fur's browns, whites, and mochas down to the order and placement of patterns which were so strikingly similar to mine. I could never shake that unnamable uncanny feeling when we made love and our fur mingled, blurring the boundaries of our bodies.

In the end I didn't mind the rush, the results were what counted. A glance at his uncovered fur, down his flat belly to his pubic ruff and sheath made the moment feel as real as it was surreal. I squirmed on the warmth between my legs, fidgeting on that vulgar and frustrating need to be filled. I disguised my eagerness in that I never fully got undressed. That would make me too easy. If Dustin wanted me, he would have to do some work. When he was naked and I had his attention I reached behind me and undid the latch of my bra, something Dustin couldn't do anyway no matter how many times I taught him. The fabric slacked around my chest and I felt liberated, my breathing suddenly easier and my heart free to race for what was about to happen. I leaned back and smiled, wordlessly inviting my brother to take me.

Dustin didn't make me wait for long. I shivered as I felt him ever so slightly brush my fur as he hooked a finger around my bra strap, guiding the fabric off my shoulders and down my arms. I looked up at him performing the shyness I knew he liked to see in me, feeling the cups fall from my bosom. My bra got tossed to the pile of clothes beside us, my brother not giving it a second thought. Instead his attention focused on me, his sister's breasts, and a smile on her muzzle that questioned what he was waiting for.

Though I never told him, I liked it when he undressed me, when he pulled my boxers down my legs and slid them off my ankles, exposing my most intimate details with their descent. No moments did I anticipate more than those in which he laid me bare, those in which I felt nothing but cool air and the weight of his gaze. That's why I always let him do it himself. I'd offer my body like a present waiting to be unwrapped. When my boxers left my body he saw me as no sibling should; bare and aroused, presented explicitly, lying before him no long as a sister but as a mate.

In the beginning, when he succeeded in persuading me naked, when he held my limp boxers or bra and I had only my paws and tail to cover myself, he always seemed hesitant and almost regretful, as if he didn't know how to cope with his success. Now when he saw me stripped he acted with confidence, smiling and moving in clear display of exactly what he wanted, my drenched boxers his trophy and my body his prize. I enjoyed how he never tired of seeing my so exposed.

The light touch of his fingertips instructed my legs apart. A command I gladly followed. He crawled between my knees with his arousal starting to show. His muzzle dipped down and pressed a kiss upon my inner thigh. Other's followed, one after another up my parting legs. Dustin paused only to cast a final glance upon my sex. He brushed aside a few stray tufts of soaked pubic fur crisscrossing his view with a barely perceptible touch, exciting a gasp from me as well as a shiver of tension. My lips were swollen and naturally spread, revealing a glimpse of pink inner folds, all of which wet to the point of dripping.

"Damn Sis, look at you. Someone's awful worked up. I've barely even touched you yet," Dustin said, parting my labia with his fingers, experiencing my inner intimates up close.

"What can I say, it's been a few days," I said, feeling my muzzle warm with a blush or perhaps sexual flush.

"Should'a come to me sooner, you know I like taking care of you."

"I like doing other things with ya too, ya know."

"Me too," he said, "I really had a fun day."

"We should do it more often," I suggested.

"When we got more money. Things got a little pricey today."

"Don't always have to buy shit, I just like being with you. Going on adventures. Not having to hide shit."

"That was a good feeling. Just a few more months Alex. That'll be our everyday. I'll have a better job, you'll be in school, and every weekend I'll let you reach into my wallet to finance our little expeditions."

"I thought I'd find ways to make things worth your while," I said, tacitly reminding Dustin of the fact that his muzzle hovered inches away from my aroused sex and how my tail flagged, signaling absolute and unconditional free reign of my body,

"This is why I didn't want a girlfriend. This little privilege here cost me around fifty bucks, if you count gas."

"Shut up and suck my cock, Dusty," I said, employing my favorite line from pornography. A sly glare shot down my naked body like a laser beam, threatening him to go down on me, while at the same time venting my disapproval for putting a dollar value on sex.

Dustin shook his head, annoyed if anything by my choice of words. "Whatever you say, Alex," he continued, his gaze focusing on my vulva as if appraising the task in front of him the same way he would a disassembled gun. His fingers parted my labia, exposing my most intimate parts, details secret to only him and me. He held open my vagina, seeing just how aroused I was for him and him alone. I no longer felt embarrassed when he saw me as such. In fact I wished I could show him more so that he could realize just how deep my emotions had become.

My already wide-open knees separated even further and my paw moved behind his ear. It hardly took any weight to guide him downward, and any instruction for him to kiss between my splayed open labia. I watched with arrested breath and my fangs pressed into my lips, drawing in little gasps every time the target of his tongue changed as he nibbled and licked clean the essences saturating my pussy. Dustin's whiskers and soft muzzle-fur bristled against my exposed skin while his tongue swept through my folds, curling into every furrow and crevice, spiraling into what he wanted to taste the most. I drew in a hissing breath through my teeth and shivered as his tongue slipped past my entrance and pushed through my sensitive vaginal walls, twisting within the slickness and dense flavor of female rough collie. It took a great deal of effort to overcome the impulse to buck toward him, but despite my fighting, I felt my lower body rise through the tension in complete invitation.

My brother demonstrated his talents quite well, but try as he might I needed a little bit more to satisfy me in my state. Judging by the sight of his arousal so did he. I rode the rollercoaster of sensation for as long as I could take it, but his internal tongue bath only left me worse off than when we started. I nudged him behind the ears. After a few more licks he pulled away, gazing up my body with a look that turned into a smile. A last kiss found my pussy. Others ascended my torso as Dustin continued his climb, paving a slow and winding path over my belly, breasts, and neck. His muzzle found mine and pressed lips to lips, nose to nose, and whiskers to whiskers, his saturated in my slickness, bearing my intimate scents.

"How do you want me?" He asked, anticipating my readiness.

"Like this," I said, as I instructed him onto his back and cast a leg over him, straddling him in a position I knew I had a little bit of control in, should I change my mind. I let my fingers rake his fur, down his chest and belly, and pressed my sex against his sheath. I sighed. The feeling of his cock pushing against my bare vulva brought me more relief than anything I'd felt up to that point. My labia hugged his girth. With a few sensual movements I slid my warm intimacy along his growing shaft, letting him feel but a mere allusion to what awaited him within me. My brother moaned and so did I as we rocked, goading each other in a wordless game of dare.

A few moments of teasing slide was all I could take, so desperately did I need something to fill me. I reached down and ran my fingers along my brother's bare length, reacquainting myself with his canine features. I remember quite vividly, looking down, my thumb massaging his urethral ridge until a first clear drop of pre beaded at his tip. My thumb caught that little bit of slickness and ran it around his curved point, feeling the slickness between my pad and his smooth skin. I thought of the first time I touched my brother and pawed him off. In the big picture, it wasn't all that long before, but it seemed like it to me since so much had changed. There was no hesitance in my touch, just practice. The aversion and reluctance I so strongly felt gave way to something else, something far more advanced than attraction. I amorously stroked my brother, tugging on him slow and with a firm grasp until his shaft was slick with his pre.

I directed Dustin's tip up toward me, at the matted fur between my legs. While I had thoughts of a few more moments of tease, I didn't act on them. I merely adjusted into position, brought his pre-slick member to my folds and let his canine point find my opening. What followed was the anticipated spreading, the satisfying feeling of fullness expanding deeper as I sank, appeasing the dull itch that had been accompanying me for I'd forgotten how long. His canine features grazed my insides as he slid into me until the details dissipated into the overarching sensation of completeness. I descended his stiff length perhaps a bit too quickly, ignoring a sting of pain that came from asking my body to make room for my brother under the influence of eagerness. The sharp ache slowly gave way to a familiar one which could hardly be called agony. I pressed down and wiggled upon him, making sure he was good and in, and that his cock-tip could feel my deepest folds, letting him know they were his to mark.

With my brother firmly inside me, we afforded each other a brief moment of pause, a little ritual we developed for the time it took for my pussy to comfortably conform around his ridges and girth. In those seconds we found ourselves engrossed in a last moment of making out, before the imminent fury and movement made that impossible. Our embrace didn't last long. Dustin pressed into me with a sudden buck, forcing me to break the kiss with a less than elegant grunt, and reminding me just how deep he could get without his knot fully formed.

I stared down my muzzle at Dustin. Our gazes met after scanning our naked and united bodies in full appreciation of the moment. Dustin beamed a smile at me, a devious one of partners in crime. I returned it, well aware that we were both complicit in a taboo within a taboo, and so woefully unrepentant. Now that he was in me, it meant that for better or for worse, we seemed to have avoided the condom conversation. Once you're already barebacking your mate, those topics tend not to come up. It still felt odd to have his sheath and pubic fur tickle the exposed skin of my sex, a rare and unusual sensation I only got to receive when we intended to tie. The mounds of his knot began to push at me from within, suggesting such a union. I still had time to toy with the idea, far from certain that the risk was worth it, but for now I could pretend that that was exactly what I wanted.

I didn't wait for further instructions. My body rose and sank, initiating the movements we both knew well, motions we practiced to the point of perfection. My body knew the forms to take, the postures to best allow Dustin's length to slide through me and assure our mutual pleasure. I learned to flex around my brother's cock, massaging him with recently discovered muscles and executing subtle shifts in order to facilitate the ever more copious throbs of pre deep into my pussy. I closed my eyes and let myself fall into the moment, becoming indifferent to all else aside from my movement and the excitement that came of it. My brother's paws traveled my body, over-eagerly handling my breasts, pinching the excess around my midsection, and sinking his fingertips into my buttocks, doing all the naughty things that made me feel self-conscious and thrilled at the same time. We knew each other so well there was no more point in declaring anything off limits or pretending there was something left to hide.

Dustin's cock easily slid through me, hilting me with just the right amount of friction and getting so deep that every few passes I found myself unable to stifle hushed little utterances. His engorging knot slipped in and out, growing with practically every pass. It felt good to have his bare, smooth knot enter into my body and for a split second occupy the part of me it was designed to fill. In a few moments, or perhaps just seconds, the point of decisions would arrive. The thought of using a condom didn't seem so bad all of a sudden. I already regretted not pestering Dustin for it. The plea to take a break and have my brother run to his room to double or triple check for a perhaps overlooked stray burned on the tip of my tongue. I wished it was any other time of the month. I had my second thoughts, and third, and probably already my seventh and eighth, but I simply couldn't reconcile what I should do and what I wanted to do. I ended up listening to the devil's voice reminding me that my brother and I had gone bare far too many times to count without damage. We could probably make it through an unprotected tie as well.

It took a long time, but I eventually stopped caring about what those who know what happened think of me. I'm sure some just think I was just a slut who wanted to be stuffed with a knot a little too often, or some perv who would let any guy finish in her for the feel of it. In truth I was in love. When I looked down upon my brother, my paws clasping his shoulders and the world blurred around us, I saw everything I wanted. When I looked into his eyes, I saw clarity, even in the frenzy of sex. In the moments we were as close together as possible, I dreaded our eventual separation, and when we were apart, his image and his voice seldom left my thoughts. I know that love does not excuse stupidity, but somehow it explains it.

We were close, body to body, fingers curled into fur, the bare walls of my sex encompassing his maleness with not a thing between us, but we could get closer. In essence that little escalation of proximity was all I really wanted, all consequences be damned. I took over the direction of our movements and pressed down upon Dustin, sighing at the almost overwhelming fullness that came from taking his every inch. My pussy flexed around the firm sphere of my brother's knot, around the illicit feeling of my interior spreading. I was riding Dustin during my ovulation, and I damn well knew it. Not only that, we were tying. Unlike usual, I didn't warn my brother how close we were to my dangerous biological window. I merely gazed down upon him and smiled. Our eyes met in a knowing exchange. He smiled back and caressed my cheek. All that I let escape my muzzle was a coy giggle in those in-between moments in which I executed the absurdity of allowing my brother to become my mate. I relished that delightful little feeling of rebellion against common sense.

Even as my hips rhythmically rocked in invitation to get marked I thought to myself, if I let him finish in me this time, it's going to happen. It's just going to happen. Yet I didn't say a thing. I simply half followed, half led the repeating cycles of restrained motion, feeling the last opportunity to slip free fade away. The girth of his knot became impossible to ignore. It slowly developed into the focal point of sensation, spreading me past the point of comfort. Oddly enough a certain moment would always come where the ache of my sex spread to the point of capacity turned to pleasure, where I began to realize that which I felt were the sensations reserved for mates, those deep in love, and those ready to make the ultimate commitment. My pussy flexed dangerously around my brother's canine anatomy, locking him in with a perhaps involuntary, perhaps deliberate expression of readiness. In doing so I all but guaranteed the approach of a new, purebred rough collie into my world.

I tested the tie by trying to lift myself. When all I felt was the weight of my brother tugging at me from within, I understood what it meant and what would happen next. We were so stupid back then. I knew my body. I knew it was a matter of time. The fact that I had gotten my period like clockwork over the previous months deceived me. It gave me false confidence in the exhaustible supply of miracles. I'm still surprised it didn't happen sooner. What was probably just luck, I called clever planning. That turned out inherently flawed.

With our bond complete we let our movements escalate, into the fluid undulations of intimately united bodies. I rocked back and forth, steered by the firm command of Dustin's paws and the pace of his bucks. Every shift, push, and pull made me feel the limits of our union. Rather explicit visualizations of my brother's naked cock slickly embraced within my sex, dousing my deepest corners with pre and soon more, played behind my closed eyelids. My paws curled into his chest and my muzzle tilted upward, breathing heavily of air laden in the scents of my bedroom and arousal. Sighs and formless feminine tones vented from parted lips as the rest of my body heaved, propelled by my biological brother's assertive upward drives. We fell into the wild chase, the fury and the feral rut of unimpeded mating, with movements, pose, and actions more mature than we realized.

Sometime during the moment our lovemaking reached its apex of intensity, when both of us wordlessly agreed that the play was over, I opened my eyes and looked at Dustin, upon my paws desperately grabbing his body, upon his face looking straight at mine. I saw in him a focus I've seldom seen in him before, intensity as if he knew precisely what we were doing. As if he could sense the pheromones lacing the sexual scents surrounding us and could recognize them for what they were. It felt as if his intent were laid bare before me, a desire to make me his, a complete and fearless willingness to breed. He knew we were mating, for real this time. It was time. The dog wanted to cum. Any idiot could predict the consequences when, rather than if, he spilt his seed. In the moment, nearing the edge of the plateau where movements became about attainment, our eyes fixed upon each other in an expressive exchange broadcasting everything I couldn't say, something that could best be described as complete and total consent, a fear that dared him to do it. In that moment I never felt so wanted.

Dustin's last bucks became erratic and desperate, fueled by a single-minded desire trumping all rational thought. As pent up breath exhaled with a vulgar shudder swept through my fur, I could tell it was happening. I knew that as my brother's final movements urged his canine cock-tip to within an inch of my cervix, my chance to ask him to stop had long since vanished. Dustin's hold on my hips grew increasingly tight, until he kept me pressed upon the knot binding our bodies the exact moment the pressure at the base of his cock unleashed itself. His embedded maleness began to pulse, expanding and contracting in midst of no a longer preventable sequence of events. Each palpable throb and each desperate push represented an irretrievable bolt of cum splashing against my unprotected folds, painting my innermost reaches white in a viscous coat of virile sperm.

I naively rode Dustin through the duration of his orgasm, eagerly brushing my clit through his pubic fur, trying hard to make the most of his moment. I just hummed with pleasure in response to the ejaculations and all they brought into my body. His swollen knot locked in the perfect spot inside me, keeping the growing accumulation of incestuous cum secure. The irresistible confluence of sensation and stimulation set the immense tension in me free and allowed me to join my brother in the dopamine rush of climax. My body tensed, I let out a soft feminine moan, and every inch of me quivered. With all my remaining energy I pressed down and wiggled on Dustin's cock as his twitches bred me, my pussy gripping him with a flurry of orgasmic waves. The taboo, the risk, and the recklessness were all fuel for the fire. By the time his bucks ceased and his cock stopped twitching, what little space existed between him and the velvet walls of my sex became filled with potent warmth with no place to flow but into the fertile reaches of my womb.

After too short a moment of pleasure it was over and I was back in my bedroom, on a bed far too small for the two of us, tied to my twin brother. My lungs felt too small to satisfy my longing for air. We kissed and we giggled as our bodies cooled and experienced the aftershocks of mating. Dustin slowly softened, but I held onto him, not wanting him to slip free. I came to love tying, since it afforded the moments where all one had to do was stay close and experience the intimacy we certainly weren't ready for. We made out for the circa half-hour or so during which we stayed connected, neither of us daring a movement which would cause us to slip out prematurely. Our tongues casually took turns exploring each other's muzzles, breaking only to complement with a quick lick or to give voice to a carefree chuckle. Dustin's paws seldom stood still for more than a moment. His claws combed my fur, and scratched my back in a way he knew I adored. My breasts too couldn't escape his attention. I let him enjoy himself as his thumb massaged my oversensitive nipples. The squirming he elicited in the process seemed to please him.

Dustin reverberated with a combination of hum and chuckle while he occasionally bucked into me, as if he never got tired of the feeling of my warm vaginal walls hugging his bare knot. "That was intense," he mumbled into my fur, rocking my body ever so slightly in order to keep me well aware of the canine dick sliding through the full load of semen lining my vagina.

I hummed in affirmation. "You did good, Dusty," I said. "I really needed that."

"I can tell," he said. "I never thought we'd do this," he continued, obviously referring to the bareback tie his continued rocking sought to exploit to his full advantage.

The words made me shiver. They reminded me how bad an idea it was to have actually gone through with what we just did, bad timing and all. I hoped he wouldn't question our deed further, and indeed he didn't. He simply caressed me, as if rewarding me for my lapse in responsibility. I'm sure his mind ticked with the thoughts. The math was elementary. I eased up when no questions or chides came and relaxed against my sibling. Maybe he felt guilty too for failing to protect his sister from her own foolishness. Calling me out on it meant admitting that he too succumbed to horniness when he knew better all the while, just like me.

"I love you Dusty," I said in an attempt to distract him, as well as myself from that line of thinking. I wiggled and snuggled against him, feeling uncharacteristically puppy-like in my tied and bred state.

"I love you too Alex," he said, and ceased bucking into me, letting us ride out the end of our fateful tie in quiet and close togetherness.

When he finally popped free I flopped over beside him. My legs were too tired to prop me up any longer and my pussy throbbed with the dull ache of overexertion. The after-image of a dog cock stuffed to the sheath inside my sex remained long after Dustin pulled out. I held my paws over my eyes and muzzle in a giddy moment of coyness, beaming with persistent afterglow as I felt some of my brother's sperm begin to escape my fertile sex. The stuff and the sensation of it temporarily stilled my arousal in a way only that profoundly dangerous chemistry could. Dustin leaned over me and kissed my breast. He suckled on me to his heart's content, taking advantage of my exhaustion and post-coital acquiescence. Once he tired of the taste of my nipple, kisses descended my belly, nosing down through my matted pubic fur, near where the surplus of our combined sexual fluids leaked. My thighs opened for my sibling, presenting my visibly used intimates right in front of his muzzle, revealing his gift tucked within my naked folds precisely the way he liked to see it. A final kiss pressed upon my slightly parted details, upon the white traces of potent essence marking me as his. A few licks passed through my sensitive lips, cleaning me of the sperm which didn't make it into my womb. I didn't bother dissuading him; I just giggled towards my bedroom's ceiling and let the soothing licks and the pleasant feeling of a blush rush over me.

Like the many times before, he came to rest beside me until the evening grew late. We held each other naked, fur against fur, scented in each other in the most illicit of ways. As always, we lost track of time that way, nuzzling, kissing, revisiting the erogenous parts of each other's bodies, every inch of which were fair game. As strong as our curiosity was, an end had to come to our session. We had to get up and sort the clothing we so hastily strew about us. We got dressed and just went to our separate rooms like usual. We took separate showers and went to bed, this time sharing mine in the quiet privacy of our empty house. My room still reeked of two rough collies in love. The scent didn't let me sleep for a number of reasons. Only in the dark of night did the full-blown severity of what I'd done dawn on me. I might actually have to face the consequences this time. It actually happened. We tied. He came in me. And I was certainly ovulating.

The next evening after my shower, after I rode Dustin again but had regained the common sense to have him pull out and cum in my muzzle instead of my pussy, I stood in front of the mirror with dripping wet fur. I'd grown increasingly worried as the hours ticked by. I was desperate for some sort of a sign, some confirmation that things hadn't been as risky as I thought they were. Perhaps I wasn't as deep into my cycle as I thought. Even though I hadn't let him cum in me that night, would twenty-four hours really make a difference? "God, that was stupid," I whispered to my reflection, too vividly recalling my behavior, the feeling of my sex squeezing his unprotected twitching knot and the spreading genetic rough collie warmth. Did I just feel an ovulation cramp, or was that just a psychosomatic response to the increasing anxiousness? Was it actually happening inside me? Could it even happen to me? What about college?

I felt that rare feeling of guilt I typically only get if I've done something very, very bad, and have until the end of the day before my dad hears about it. I tried to console myself with some empty claims. Maybe the timing was a bit off after all. Sometimes people try for years without it happening. Hey, it couldn't happen to me, but despite my empty reassurances I couldn't sleep that night. While my brother dozed away in his room, I lay there in my PJs either too hot or too cold to sleep. I wondered if that were a symptom and it made me even more nervous. "What about college?" Was the question echoing through my mind like a broken record. Could I go with a child in tow? Could I hide it? For how long and from whom? Could I even tell Dustin?

Sometimes, when I saw the younger kids play, or walked down Main Street past a mother paw in paw with cub it made me less worried, perhaps even envious. I was of age, I would finish high school soon, and the mothers who I passed weren't always that much older than myself. I even recognized some of them from school. Yet my case was different, I was for all practical purposes mated to my brother. If it happened it would be certain we couldn't live there anymore. As much as I wanted to leave and never come back, I never wanted to live in exile. Was there even a corner of this country where we could disappear, where we could be accepted? Then the worst possibility of all, what if our hormones put into this world an inbred child destined to live out a tortured existence. Could we live with that? Could we even have a healthy pup? Nightmares tore me from sleep concerning such possibilities.

At least back then, in those precious few weeks before the symptoms set in, I had the benefit of ignorance. My ignorance became the shroud in which I wrapped myself, without which I would have never found any sleep. It felt comfortable and consoling, and made my gravest concerns distant and otherworldly, as if I merely watched myself as a figure in a poorly-written, pornographic melodrama. It accompanied me when my period seemed unusually weak, and the next one failed to show up altogether, all the while whispering soft reassurances into my ear. It placed its hand on the back of my neck, and held me comfortingly the first morning some weeks later as I woke up only to make a beeline to the toilet to be sick. It fed me excuses, suggested lies, and kept me safe from blunt reality. As the days grew longer and the weeks passed, and the signs grew clear, the shroud slowly tattered and frayed until it dissolved away entirely, leaving me alone with my body in full rebellion.

During a morning home from school, spent aching, sore, and dry heaving into the toilet, the warm sensation of "Oh, now you're in trouble," came over me like never before. The awareness made me so sick I wretched into the bowl one more time, and as I cleared my muzzle of bile and saliva, it sank in. Every excuse, every alternative, every tatter of cognitive dissonance vanished like fog burnt away by dawn. Never before had I felt so sick, so alone, so guilty. There was no more denying it. It happened to me. I must be carrying Dustin's child.