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[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]That my male first cousin would, eventually, get the "urge" to experiment didn't surprise me one bit and more so given how close we were - and so close that everyone thought we were brothers and the closeness didn't end there; I'm 363 days older than he is and we like to kid each other and say that for two whole days, we get to be the same age.

The way he wanted to experiment drove me crazy and it wouldn't be for a whole lot of years before I'd understand why he went about it the way he did. I've mentioned it before but his way was for us to play "master and slave" with me cast in the role of master and "commanding" him to do this or that and with him saying stuff like, "Please, master - don't make me suck your dick!" which, of course, would be what I'd command him to do. The game made me, again, totally insane but, okay, cousin, if that's what makes you feel okay about things...

I remember the first time we wound up naked with each other although I don't quite remember what led up to this. I'm spending the night with him (nothing unusual about that) because we had a judo contest to go to the next day and it was easier to be at his house than my own. We're in bed, talking about the upcoming contest, talking technique and all that along with a bunch of other stuff and in my mind, one moment we're talking and the next we're kinda roughhousing... and then we're both naked and I'm on top of him frotting him (aka dry humping). It just happened; no real intent or my part or, I think, his. It's happening and we were both into it when I feel him kinda shudder under me, saw him blink, and then he said, "I think we should stop."

So we stopped. I had wondered why but I'd figure it out much later: He wanted to stop because he was about to cum. No biggie. We stopped and talked about some more stuff other than what we had just done and I didn't think much about it.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[SIZE=3][FONT=verdana]Okay. She killed him and I really don't want to relive that except to say it was over some really dumb shit. Two nights before he died, we'd just finished doing each other while the girls were in the bedroom having fun with each other. He had told me that he was tired and I understood it; he was now really trying to turn his life around and he even said that being able to have sex with us and the way we were all into it made getting his shit straight a more serious priority. It didn't occur to me until some time after he died what he meant by his being tired - as in tired of living.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Shit. Shit, shit, shit.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]I remember him and it's kinda obvious what I remember about him the most. Absolutely the best male lover I've ever had and I've had some good ones over the years. Guiltless, shameless, comfortable, and oh, so familiar. I often wonder if we would have ever gotten into this if he hadn't pestered me into doing it to him. Maybe and maybe not. Moot point. It happened. All of it did. It took a long time for me to admit just how much I loved having sex with him and more so when it didn't seem to bother him as much as it did me. Ha, I'd be pissed with him and say, "Aw, suck my dick!" - and he'd suck my dick and he was very damned good at it but why wouldn't he be since he had plenty of opportunities to practice on me? Was our genetic connection the driving force behind this? It didn't hurt and even if he didn't, I knew what that meant and it was just one of thing things that served to prove to me that what everyone was saying about sex - any kind of sex - wasn't the whole truth of things.

Good thing or very, very bad thing? I'll leave that for you to decide but I'm good with it because not being good with it doesn't make sense and more so when you still can't undo what has already been done. You can't take it back. There's no do-overs. I miss him and not just because he was my brother.[/FONT][/SIZE]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]The three of them were passed out and sleeping... and I sat there looking at them and feeling some kind of way about what had just happened. Guilty? No, not so much and I was a little miffed with myself because I didn't see any of this coming before the fact - and maybe I should have. Water under the bridge now; you can't undo what's already been done. Was this going to be a one-time thing? One part of me said it would be... but the other parts didn't believe it one bit. All of the cats were out of the bag now.

Shit. The whole situation "broke down" to the point where any of us could be having sex with someone but the highlight of every night was the four of us being together (after the kids were down for the night, of course) and whatever happened just happened. No shame. No guilt. No jealousy. Sex in just another of the many ways it could be done. I remember talking to his girlfriend one day to feel her out about what had been going on and she said she had never felt so free and safe having sex before. She said, "You two obvious have done this before..." and I said we had - how did she feel about that?

"I think it's the way brothers should be; you two get along better when you're having sex than you do when you aren't," she said and accurately so because there were still many times during any part of any day when I wanted to beat him to a pulp for something and just as much as he wanted to give me a beatdown. We didn't fight but we'd argue... and later, well, it was business as usual. After the first week of this sexual insanity, I was sure the newness would eventually wear off... and it didn't. My thoughts continued to kinda fuck with me but I think my thoughts realized that it was trying to fight a losing battle.

This joined intimacy was... different. Immoral all up and down the line... but it was there just the same. Guiltless. Shameless. I'd be eating my wife's pussy while my brother and his lady would be sucking my dick and none of it felt "weird" or unusual even when it did. He'd be chowing down on his lady and my wife and I would be doing a number on his dick and in a contest to see which one of us would make him cum first. No clear winner, by the way, and I thought it was funny that the two of them had the same contest going on as well.

Just good, nasty, immoral as fuck fun. Nothing really unusual going on here, just four people having sex with two of them, both male and related, who shouldn't have been doing it. It just was what it was and like I said, if no one minded, it didn't matter.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]When he, his girlfriend and children needed a place to stay, wow - I didn't want to help him one bit because he chose his "life of crime" and other shit that didn't sit well with me but I couldn't, in good conscious, see his lady and their children out on the street.

I remember the night the two of them wanted to have sex with me and my wife. I don't even really remember how we even got on the subject and I'd love to blame it on the four of us being high... but we weren't. I remember it coming up - oh, they were both very eager - and I looked at my wife, who looked at me and shrugged... and then the four of us were naked on the bed, him with his lady, me with mine and somewhere along the line, we switched up but I was used to seeing my wife having sex with someone else so it didn't bother me but, yeah, it looked weird to see her sucking his dick and him eating her and they were both having fun with it. Didn't bother me one bit when he fucked her and my wife had told me, later, he was "okay" then asked me what it was like to have fucked his girlfriend and, yeah, she was pretty good to fuck.

While we were taking a break, my brother was bouncing off the walls; he said, "Did you see the look on "Jean's" (not her real name) face when you slid into her? Man, that shit was so hot!" Yep, it sure was and more so when the girls went at each other during round two. I can't say his girlfriend had any experience in this but if she hadn't, she sure caught on pretty quickly. My brother and I are sitting there looking at our women 69ing the shit out of each other; he looked at me and I looked back - because I saw him looking at me - and he shrugged... and bent over and started sucking my dick.

Now, my wife had known what he and I had been doing but I was sure his girlfriend hadn't known because she was very surprised for a moment then said, "That's what I'm talking about! Everybody gotta get into this good shit!" My wife had just looked at me and smiled before going back to feasting on pussy and I kinda said, "Fuck it..." and got into a 69 with him, something we'd done so many times it wasn't funny.

Neither woman batted an eye when we fucked each other although my wife did agree with his girlfriend when she had said, "They look so good together, don't they?" He's fucking me and the girls were taking turns shoving their pussies into my face and he got the same treatment when I had my dick buried in his ass. So nasty. So goddamned wrong. So much fun.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]And even years down the road, the thoughts would fuck with me, whispering shit like, "You knew what y'all was doing - are still doing - is as wrong as anything could be!" Of course I knew it... and I still gave a fuck about that and didn't give a fuck about it.

I think about it now and it doesn't bother me one bit; that little voice grew quiet over the years and decades and like it gave up trying to make me - make us - stop doing something we obviously weren't going to stop doing - and no matter how many times we'd "agree" that this time will be the last time. I'd long since learned that brothers had sex with each other and that us doing it wasn't anything new in the grand scheme of things. I knew there were other brothers who, like me and my brother, never stopped doing it once we became adults and the logic was simple: If you couldn't trust your brother, who could you trust? I even asked myself if I was just making excuses for my behavior with him and despite everything I had learned about this specific thing... and the answer was - and still is - no. We did it because we liked/loved doing it to each other. It was good. Comfortable. Familiar. Easy. And, yes, because it was as wrong as anything gets.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Even after we got caught, it was like since my worst fears hadn't come true, worrying about getting caught again had less significance to it. Our mother scolded the shit out of me and afterward, we picked up right where we'd left off and as if we never got caught. Mom was right: I knew better. I was the oldest and expected to set an example and all that. She said there was no reason or excuse for what I got caught doing... and she was wrong about that but, yeah, also right about it. What I couldn't say to her that the reason why we were doing such an unholy thing was simple: We liked doing it to each other; it doesn't get any simpler than that.

I loved it when we blew each other and filled each other's mouth with cum. I loved feeling his dick pumping spunk into my ass and just as much as he loved feeling me filling his ass with it. He said to me one night, as I was cumming in him, "Damn... that never stops feeling good..." And he was right - it didn't even when my thoughts said that it shouldn't feel good.

"Do you ever feel guilty?" I asked him one time.

"Yeah... and not really," he had replied with a shrug. "Do you?"

"Yeah... and not really," I said, echoing his response and the truth inside me was very real. I loved having sex with him even though we couldn't stand each other. We both looked forward to it and I had to face a truth that said no matter how mad we got or how long it was between seeing each other, if he wanted to do it, I wasn't going to say no. I couldn't and because I knew we'd already put ourselves in jeopardy having sex so to not do it kinda didn't make any sense, that and he was very, very good at having sex with me. So responsive. Still so very excited about us doing it. We were the best at doing it to each other and even said so, not that other guys were slouches and I had realized that it was our brotherly connection that put the sex we'd have over the top for each other.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I'd be dick-deep in him and it was so damned good... and thinking "what if" and visions of brutal beatings flashing through my mind. Or I'd be sucking him and waiting for him to cum in my mouth with great expectation while being fully aware of every little sound around us and no matter where we were. He'd be dick-deep in my ass, driving his dick into me and it was so relaxing but I'd also be tense because I was listening to every sound and so much that a barking dog would make me flinch or freeze up.

And as we got older and got into fighting each other and, sometimes, over dumb shit, it didn't make sense that we were still having sex when, maybe a few minutes before, I'd just punched him in the face as hard as I dared to. I couldn't understand how our "hatred" for each other never carried over to us having sex, like the one thing had nothing to do with the other... and I guess it really didn't. Sometimes we'd get done with each other and go right back to fighting; one time, he had just nutted in me, pulled out and when I turned to look at him, he punched me dead in the face and said, "You didn't think I forgot, did you?" He hadn't... and neither had I. What confused me even more is that while he could fight, he could never get the best of me; I would have a field day kicking his ass but with restraint because I had the skills to do him great harm... or to kill him.

And I think, as we had sex with each other, that this was some really fucked up shit to be so mad at each other one moment and to be all into screwing and sucking each other silly the next. Even as we grew older and all that, the dynamic didn't change all that much; we'd get mad enough at each other to kill each other - and I'm not joking about that one bit - and after a cool-off moment, get naked and do what we'd always been doing.

And it was still very, very good.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Did I think that we should stop before all holy hell broke loose? I did. Even he did. We didn't stop and it was like we couldn't. We tried to and our best effort was we didn't do it for a whole day. And the thing that "bothered" me was the more we did it, the more I liked it.

I remember the day I tasted his sperm for the first time. I was actually pissed off because he had shot his stuff for the first time with one of his friends but I got over it. The funny part was that he hadn't told me he was shooting and, of course, I didn't find out until I was sucking his dick and - pow! - I got a mouthful of it! Then he told me when he first did it and who he did it with. So I was mad about it... but I was very happy that he was shooting sperm and in my mind, the circle was now complete. No matter how many other guys I had sex with, doing it with him was just... better and I thought that it was because of the great crime we were committing damned near every day and night.

I'd love to say that at some point I just stopped thinking about the wrongness and the trouble - I never really did. One day, he was fucking me and whispered in my ear that he felt bad about us doing it... but he liked us doing it so much he couldn't stop. That made me feel good and bad at the same time because I felt the same way and I couldn't understand why I cared about it and didn't care one bit about how fucked up this thing we were doing was... and I don't know why I thought and felt that way.

I had said to him - as his dick was moving in and out of me - "Maybe we should stop."

He said, "Yeah, we should."

And we didn't. What made it "worse" for me in my thoughts was that I was well and deeply into screwing my sister after learning about that eating pussy thing with her. Obviously, if screwing my brother was bad, screwing her was even worse. Later in life, I'd hear the saying, "If you don't mind, it doesn't matter..." and I didn't mind but I also did mind... and it still didn't matter so much. And speaking of that...

My brother didn't like having to share my dick with our sister, that and he was very pissed off that she wouldn't do it with him. Well, they did once... and she told me he couldn't do it right and that he wouldn't eat her pussy. I thought it was funny and thought that it wasn't even funny; this was some very serious shit we'd gotten ourselves into and it all made me do some very serious thinking about what sex was really all about.[/SIZE][/FONT]