My girldfriend´s brother

I run home. As fast as I physically can. Complete with embarrassing facial expression and heavy breath. People turn to look at me and I just rush past them because it feel like their eyes are accusing. That they all somehow KNOW what I had just been doing just minutes ago. This is insane. My skin burns where he touched me. I avoid the memory of his hands. His lips. How fervently I gave myself up in the maybe three minutes that he pressed me up against a tree and took me. Owned me.

 

Everything is suddenly upside down. Completely fucked up because of him. Because one morning, my girlfriend’s brother woke up, and decided that today was the day he would make me his bitch. The realization that I successfully evaded bites me in the metaphorical ass with a vengeance. I cheated on my girlfriend. The girl that I for once FELT something for. Something that might not have been particularly deep, but at least was real. I don’t know what William is. I don’t know what I feel. It’s too goddamn retarded. Too short. Too dirty. I can’t tell. And I don’t want to. All I want is to go back in time to never have looked at him at the dinner table. And then to lock the door to the bathroom. And then not tug on his sleeve like a pathetic whore. Asking him. Begging him to please oh please press me up against the trunk of a bloody tree and turn me into a blithering idiot for the duration of the encounter.

 

I get home. And go straight to my room. I fall on my bed and think. Slowly, most of the thoughts that plagued me turn into one big one. I need a coffee.

 

I barely sleep most of the night. There are sporadic, disjointed dreams that I don’t bother trying to remember the next morning. Mostly things regarding Serena’s brother. I try not to think about him. Or her. Or what I did. Twice. And how much my body needs to do it again. I’m under the impression that release would clear my head. But the only person that could give it to me sufficiently is William. And I’m scared of him. Terrified of the effect he has on me. Because even though I already promised myself I wouldn’t do anything more with him I don’t know if that’s a promise I can live up to.

 

My thoughts halt as the insistent ring of the phone tears through silence. It’s of course Serena.

 

“Yeah.” my tired voice.

 

“Hi. I was worried about you.”

 

“Why? There isn’t anything to worry about.”

 

“Well, you hurt your ankle yesterday. And I was wondering if you felt up to hanging out today. But you know if it still hurts I can just stop by your–“

 

“No. That won’t be necessary. I’ll come over.” I reply too quickly. Without thinking. At all.

 

“Are you sure? I mean of you’re still in pain it’s o–“

 

“I’m sure. I’ll see you in half an hour.” And I hang up with a seemingly resounding click. I then throw the receiver onto my bed and bury my face in my hands. I know full well that it isn’t my girlfriend I’m going to see.

 

Standing on her porch, I’m simultaneously thinking a million different things. I didn’t know whether I really want to see Serena’s face at all. Whether I can even handle being in the same house as her brother. Everything is pressing, waiting for answers, and I can’t give them. Because I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know what to do. The fact that I’m standing on her porch is a result of carnal instincts. Ones I’ve learned – the hard way – not to trust. The image of his face flashes in my mind and the unpleasant sinking sensation settles itself in the pit of my stomach.

 

I ring the doorbell before I get a chance to change my mind. The door flies open almost instantly. It’s him. His slanted eyes seem unusually wide. He was expecting me.

 

“Uh. Hi.” I say.

 

“Hey.” he breathes. From upstairs Serena’s voice yells something about coming down in another five minutes. All I hear is the ‘five minutes’.

 

“Take your time!” I yell back past William’s shoulder. Again without thinking. I’m getting a little too reckless.

 

His head flicks towards the stairs and then back to me. As if to check if anyone is coming. He grabs me by the arm and drags me into the house, closing the door.

 

“Dad is out.” he whispers. Too quickly. Pulling me into the kitchen, where she can’t see us from the staircase. I can’t see straight. Everything is happening faster than I can realize it, and he’s already sitting down and pulling me into his lap, back facing him. The chairs are oddly large enough for me to fit between his legs, and I’m turning towards him to fist my hand into his hair and kiss him. It doesn’t get any more animalistic than this. We’re both hard in seconds, and his hands are feverishly undoing my pants as I squirm against him. He moans into my mouth. Quietly. I almost can’t hear it. We’re a mess of limbs and clothes and need.

 

His hand slips into my boxers and I’m close to losing it. His strokes are harsh and fast, because at this point I don’t need much. The preliminary work was stretched out over the past two days. My teeth clamp down on his bottom lip and I’m almost shaking because the amount of feeling is nearly unbearable. His other arm closes around my waist, firmly holding the bottom of my body against him.

 

In theory, the position we’re in is uncomfortable. The top of my body is twisted around in order for my face to reach his, while my hand grips the arm-rest of the chair for support. And really, it isn’t particularly comfortable. But I can’t feel discomfort. All I feel is him, and the brilliant pace of the strokes. And I’m arching into his hand and whimpering like the whore that I am. Our lips part and for a few moments we’re just breathing against each other. Short, ragged breaths because moans aren’t something either of us can afford. I twist back around, not to face him anymore. His hand squeezes and I gasp. Loudly. My head falls back against his shoulder and he sinks his teeth into my neck.

 

“Fuck.” I exhale that one word, as my eyes snap open. Right about now I’m grabbing fistfuls of his track pants, biting my lip and fucking his hand at a relentlessly fast rhythm. His hands are strong. Serena’s brother just holds me tighter. As if I’m going anywhere. I can’t believe the sounds escaping my mouth. This is impossible to fake. Not properly anyway. Not the way I’m doing it. With the prize-winning look of complete and total physical abandonment I spasm and release all over his hand and the inside of my boxers.

 

A few post-orgasmic twitches and reality is slowly and ruthlessly floating back into my mind. That’s when I notice that he’s still clutching me. Breathing against my neck. And the unattended hardness in his pants doesn’t fade.

 

I’m about to reach back into the welcoming heat of his arousal as I hear Serena running down the stairs. I’ve never been more thankful that she sounds like a rushing elephant in my life. Instantly, I’m off his lap and were both on our feet. I fix myself in record time, just as she walks in. I just know that in the one moment, everything I did is written in my face. But my girlfriend doesn’t see it.

 

From then, it all becomes distant. The sounds – muted. Almost as if I’m watching the whole scenario from a detached perspective. Somewhere behind me he opens the door to the fridge, takes something out and slams it shut as Serena asks me something. I reply. He pushes past me as if nothing happened. That kind of shit is easy for him. He messes his sister’s hair as he walks by. She’s only angry about it for a second. I’m amazed at how completely calm he looks.

 

As he walks out of the kitchen, and I watch him past Serena’s shoulder, he turns his head to the side and quite visibly licks his fingers. I almost choke my words. I pause. And continue saying something or other. But I don’t hear my girlfriend anymore. I don’t hear anything. Except the sound of his breath against my neck, just seconds ago.