A Brother's Dilemma

'How much older was she?' the question came quickly.

I met her eyes. 'She was twenty nine.'

'Did you sleep with her?'

'Wow, there's a question for your mother to ask! Are you sure you want to know?'

Mum shook her head. 'Sorry – you're right, its none of my business.' She drained the last of her wine and stood up. 'The taxi should be here any minute now, Tom, so let's go.'

I got to my feet too, and on impulse I leaned forward and kissed her. Not on the cheek, like I always did, but full on the mouth. I think she was too surprised to do anything at first and we stood there with our lips locked for a few seconds. Long enough for me to enjoy their pliability and to register just how delicious she tasted; and then she gently pushed me away and looked into my face.

'What was that for?'

'For taking me on a date...and because I love you.'

It wasn't exactly a sexual kiss but it sure as hell wasn't a peck on the cheek either, and I'd half expected her to admonish me – but she didn't. Instead, her face lit up in pleasure and she took my arm and led me to the door.

*

The table at Giovanni's was tucked away in a corner, with a bottle of red already opened and the candles lit. The maître d' ushered us to it with a flourish and fussed around Mum, making sure she was seated comfortably and unfolding the crisp white napkin for her.

'So did you?' she asked, after he'd left us alone.

'Did I what?'

'Sleep with her.' She was smiling at me, her eyes shining in the candlelight.

'I thought you said that was none of your business.'

'It's funny how sex is a taboo subject in the family,' she replied. 'We tell each other all sorts of things about what we've done each day and how we feel, but none of us ever utter a word about our love lives. We should, don't you think?'

'Does that mean you'll tell me about yours?'

'If you want, but I thought kids didn't like hearing about the stuff their parents get up to in the bedroom.'

'Not about you and Dad. Tell me what you did at the wild office parties you went to.'

'Ah, them.' I could see her thinking, remembering back, wondering if she should tell me. She'd left school pregnant with Ash and then had me in quick succession, so I was pretty sure she'd not started work until well into her marriage. Had she played around? I couldn't imagine it, but then you never really knew what your parents had got up to. Everybody has a dirty little secret and perhaps this was hers.

'I don't think I should,' she said at length. 'You'd never think of me the same way again.' I was clear she did want to tell me.

'I'll tell if you do – and there's only the two of us, Mum. Nobody else will ever know.'

She opened her mouth to answer but the waiter suddenly appeared and we spent the next few minutes choosing our meals. He scribbled down the order and departed with a flourish.

'Tell me about your job Tom,' she said. 'I've never really understood what you do.'

'Do you know what a copy boy is?'

'Not really.'

'When newspapers were put together manually, the copy boy used to take typed stories from the person who'd written them to the editor. The stories had about six copies each using carbon paper, and once the editor had approved it he'd take the copies to the typesetters.'

She wrinkled her brow. 'Surely we don't do that now?'

'Not at all. It's all on computers but there's still a process to make sure the story is written, checked and approved before it gets put in the final proof. I'm involved in that process but they still call us copyboys. I guess the Press, like a lot of other outfits, likes the idea of tradition.'

I spent the next ten minutes explaining exactly what I did and some of the stories I'd covered, making it as interesting as I could. She was a good listener and laughed when I told her the story of the woman who'd come into the office one day.

'She was in stitches – couldn't speak. She had to sit down for a few minutes to compose herself. And when she could finally get the words out she asked if she could put a notice in the Classifieds. Of course we said yes, and we gave her a form and she dutifully filled it in.' I paused for a moment to take a swig of my wine, which tasted mysteriously like the bottle we'd been drinking at home. Mum must have brought a second one around to the restaurant earlier.

'Anyway, when the receptionist read it she burst out laughing too, and she took it to the sub-editor, and he showed it to me. It said: Will the person who stole that half bottle of whiskey from my bag on the way to work this morning please report to a medical centre after they've drunk it. The bottle was the only container I could find and it contained my urine sample for a Urinary Tract Infection.'

Mum laughed. 'You must get a few funny things happen at work.'

'A few. I remember when – ah, here's our meal.'

The waiter whisked our plates onto the table and we ate, chatting as we did so. Mum and I would talk at home of course, but not as much as tonight, and I found myself really enjoying her company. She had a quirky sense of humour that tended to the naughty side, something I hadn't really focused on before, and she had a way of making you feel as if you were the only other person in the room.

I asked her if all was well between her and Dad. She took a long sip of her wine before answering – just thinking time, I guess. 'No, I don't think it is, Tom,' she ventured at last. 'He's been...distant for a few weeks now, and we don't – well, you don't want to know what we don't do.' She regarded me for a moment. 'And the surprising thing is, I'm over it now. I'm not even angry, you know? We got married young and neither of us had time to sow our oats, and I've often wondered if the time would come when he'd want to do that.'

'But what about you, Mum,' I asked. 'You're young. You need to have someone.'

She gave a little smile. 'Are you saying I should start sleeping around?'

'I – uh, well, I mean if he's sowing his oats then -'

'I know what you meant,' she said gently, 'and no, I'm not hunting around for someone to sleep with. But you're right – if he can do it, so can I, if the right person shows up. I'm not going to be a Nun for the rest of my life.'

It was an astonishing admission from someone who, in all the years I'd known her, seemed utterly devoted to my Dad; but then you never really know what other people are like – even the ones closest to you. And the funny thing was, I understood. She was young, and she was certainly gorgeous; and even though she didn't know it, her husband and daughter were rooting like rabbits so if there was any justice in the world she should find some happiness, even out of that train wreck. I just didn't want her to get hurt hooking up with the wrong guy.

'When you find this guy, do I get to check him out?'

She laughed. 'Sure, you will.'

We moved on to other subjects then, talking easily with each other and after the meal was cleared I opened a new bottle of wine. She'd drunk most of the last one, but it didn't seem to have affected her much.

'I need to ask you a question which you may find um...odd,' she said suddenly, 'and I want you to answer truthfully, even if you think it will upset me. Can you do that?'

'Sure, as long as it's not about my cross-dressing habit.'

'Very funny. No, it's about Ashley.'

So here it comes, I thought, and even though I'd known she would ask me one day, I still wasn't ready and I felt my heart beating faster. I also felt a sudden pang of anger towards my sister for putting me in this position. She was probably having sex with Dad right now, while I was about to be put on the spot by a scorned mother and wife.

'Do you think she's having a relationship with Millie?'

I almost laughed out loud in relief and at the utter improbability of the idea, but managed to keep my face straight. 'No, I don't,' I replied, 'in fact I know she isn't. What on earth would make you think that?'

'She's in love, Tom, and she goes to stay with Millie a lot.'

'What makes you think she's in love?'

'I'm her mother. I know.'

'It's not Millie. Ash isn't like that -'

'Well, if it isn't her,' she said after a few moments, 'and it isn't someone from around here, who is it?' She sat for a few moments deep in thought, and I desperately tried to think of something to change the subject.

'Did you sleep with her?' she asked suddenly.

'With Ash?' I was startled by the sudden change in direction.

'No, silly. I mean with your girlfriend...whatsername.'

'Ellie.' I laughed, partly at being on safer ground. 'You don't give up, do you?'

'I'm just curious, Tom. You never mentioned her, or other girls. Not like Ashley, who was always coming home with a broken heart.'

'Ash was – is – far more beautiful than me. She was always going to have a lot of boyfriends.' I held my glass up to the candle and turned it slowly as I thought, watching how the soft yellow light flickered though the crimson liquid. It was the third time tonight she'd asked me about my sex life and I realised the eyes that met mine across the table were unnaturally bright, and the smile more inviting than just a mother's smile.

Maybe it was the easy intimacy of the evening, or the alcohol talking; or perhaps her suspicions about Ash and my Dad had left her feeling insecure. Or maybe, just maybe, she'd forgotten it was her son sitting in front of her and she was re-living her younger days, when every syllable across a table like this was part of an exciting game. She's turned on.

And in that second I decided to tell her exactly what I'd done to Ellie on that first night, in graphic detail. It would either revolt or excite her and, even though I didn't have much experience with women, I was betting on the latter – and I suddenly wanted to find out just where this conversation would take us

'Did I sleep with Ellie?' I replied, 'yeah, sure I did – in fact I lost my virginity to her. Do you want me to tell you about it?'

I watched her nod eagerly, her dark eyes shining in the candlelight and her little pink tongue licking her lips, and so I told her about the night I first fucked Ellie Jackson.

*

'We need to go somewhere,' said Ellie. She was sitting next to him, touching his thigh under the table, and she could feel a familiar warmth seeping into her loins.

'Where?'

'My place isn't far from here – we can go there.'

Tom looked at the faces around the table, flushed with alcohol. Benny, his best friend, caught his eye and winked. A blonde girl was sitting on his lap whose name Tom couldn't remember, but she was laughing loudly at something and he saw she was very drunk.

'What about Susan?' he asked Ellie. She was opposite them, talking to a thin guy with close set eyes. Tom knew the two girls had arrived together.

Ellie shrugged. 'She can find her own way home.'

He nodded and pushed his chair back to stand up. 'We're off,' he announced to the others. There was a little cheer as he took Ellie's hand and walked away. Everyone knew Tom hadn't had a girl yet and they knew of her reputation too, although nobody had told him.

It was cold outside and she snuggled up to him. 'You're lovely,' she said. 'Has anyone told you that?'

'Only my Mum.'

Ellie giggled. 'I bet you have lots of girls telling you. I bet you're a real Casanova.'

'Not really. How far away is your place?'

'Just around the corner. It's not much but it's warm and dry. You don't have to be anywhere soon do you?'

He shook his head and looked down at her as she talked. She was very short, perhaps only five three, but she had a pretty face framed by dark curly hair that hung to her shoulders, and a nice smile. Benny had been right - she was a good-looking girl.

'What about you?' he asked. 'Don't you have a guy?'

She laughed and shook her head. 'I don't get out much, so no. I wouldn't have gone out tonight if Benny and Pru hadn't asked me to, but they said there was a hot guy there, and as it was just around the corner I thought I'd try to meet him.'

'And then you met me,' he laughed, 'but I'm glad you came out too, Ellie.'

They walked in silence for a while, down the street and around the corner until they reached the doorway of a little terrace house. Ellie opened it and stepped back to let him in. The lounge room was small and desperately untidy, but she took off her coat and shucked off her dress, dropping them to the floor. Her underwear was small and lacy and it looked good on the trim little body. She did a little pirouette, smiling with her little elfin face.

'What do you think?'

'I think I want you.'

'You can have me.' Her lips closed over his, warm and wet, tasting vaguely of cigarettes and vodka, and his cock reared up, painfully constrained in his jeans. He fumbled to pull them down and it bobbed out, as stiff as a stick.

Ellie dropped to her knees and grasped him with one slender hand. She studied the shaft for a moment as if assessing its size before opening her mouth to take him in. He watched her soft pink lips slide along its length until they were pressed against the crisp curls of his pubic hair.

Tom let out a guttural groan. The head of his cock was jammed in the tight constraint of her throat, and he could feel her gripping his buttocks to pull him deeper. There wasn't a millimetre of his shaft visible and he wondered idly how she did that.

For a long moment she was still, and then her head moved back and his rod appeared bit by bit, sliding from between those soft, wet lips. It was shining in the light from the hallway and a dribble of slime slithered down her chin, although he couldn't tell if it was his or hers. At last the head of his cock popped free and she smiled up at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

'I'm your first, aren't I,' she said. It was neither a question nor a statement and he knew then that Benny had told her. 'You can cum in my mouth if you like, and then we'll have some fun.' Before he could answer she opened her lips and took him back in.

Tom closed his eyes to savour his first delicious experience of oral sex. The angle of penetration drove his glans along the ridges on the roof of her mouth, and in delicious contrast, the soft flesh of her bottom lip slithered along the underside. She was using her tongue, too – little feather licks on his frenulum as the head popped free, and both his pleasure and carnal desire ratcheted up quickly.

He seized her hair, soft and springy under his fingers, and began to fuck her face with long, slow strokes, looking down at her to capture the visual image as well as the physical sensation. His shaft looked massive against the little waiflike face and her eyes opened wider with every thrust, adding to the impression of overwhelming volume. She couldn't speak but he could see her eyes, filled with delight in the act of being taken, pleasure at his size; and anticipation at what she knew would surely follow.

He didn't last long – not this first time, and not with a partner who knew what she was doing. He felt his balls tingling, the first sign of an impending climax, and his shaft seemed to become impossibly stiffer as the blood surged through it. He experienced a primeval urge to be deeper still and his strokes became more frenetic, thrusting savagely to bury the great purple head into her throat as far as he could, conscious that she was struggling to take it, knowing she could hardly breathe. The features of the shabby little room around him became indistinct, his horizon shrinking until there was only her face and the shaft skewering into it; back and forth, back and forth - and all the time the tsunami of his pleasure spiraled ever upwards until he was poised on the very brink of a chasm.

With a hoarse cry Tom's orgasm burst upon him, and he unleashed a long rope of hot cum into her throat. It was followed by a second, and then a third, his balls twitching as they pumped. He saw she was choking on it, her eyes bulging and fingers scrabbling at his thighs to push him back. Another jet sprayed between her gasping lips as his cock bobbed free, and then a fifth across her nose and one eye. She was coughing to try and clear her airway; clumps of sperm spraying from her throat to splatter onto his belly, but he couldn't stop and a sixth ribbon leapt into her hair, where it lay glistening amongst the black shiny curls.

And as the last dribbles of his seed oozed from his cock he stood back, his heart hammering in his chest. She was gasping for oxygen, her face red and eyes streaming, and he saw her throat working to swallow what was too deep to expel. There was a tea towel on the nearby bench and he passed it to her, watching as she wiped the tears and spit and semen from her face, and as she finally caught her breath.

'Jesus Christ!' she managed at last. 'I wasn't expecting that.'

'I – I'm sorry, Ellie. You said it was OK to -'

She smiled up at him. 'No...I meant it went down my throat instead of into my mouth. I'm usually a bit quicker to get it right, and you had a lot.' She rose to her feet to kiss his mouth, the pungent taste of semen on her lips, and then she stood back and shed her bra and panties, and led him upstairs.

Ellie's body was small but beautifully proportioned and he loved it from the moment he saw it. Her dress had hidden the curve of her waist and the delicious swell of her buttocks, and had even suppressed the surprisingly large breasts sitting high and firm on her ribcage. Each was capped by a nipple as stiff as a pebble and she offered him one as he lay in her bed, like an appetizer to the gourmet feast to follow.

She was a good teacher. He was very horny and would have plundered her in an instant, but she shook her head, smiling, and pressed him gently to the mattress before climbing on top. 'Let's do this slowly,' she said.

Ellie pressed her vulva to his mouth, and showed him how to tease its lips whilst avoiding the sensitive nub at their juncture, and how to scoop the cream from between them with the tip of his tongue. She wriggled on his face, grunting softly with pleasure, and taught him how to enjoy the different tastes and textures there: the succulent softness of her labia and the tangy piquancy of her anus as it twitched under his tongue. She knew exactly what she wanted and she took him on the journey with her.

And at last, when Tom thought he would burst from the need to have her, she crouched above him with his shaft in her hand.

'You'll never forget this,' she whispered. 'You'll always remember the first time you fucked me.'

It was true. He would never forget the first kiss of her vulva on his swollen red knob, nor the delicious feeling as he breached its fat wet lips. He would always remember the sight of his cock disappearing inch by inch into that wriggling little body; and the look in her eyes as she felt it skewering upwards like an arrow. And he would forever recall the sucking tightness of her cunt, and how it twitched around him as she finally impaled herself to the hilt.

And by and by she began to rise and fall, slowly at first, delighting in the sight of his rod appearing magically from her body. Lifting herself until only the very tip was touching her; watching while a few drops of juice fell from her sex to anoint the purple head - then laughing in delight and wonder at what they were doing before gradually swallowing him up again.

He didn't remember how long he fucked her that way; but he did recall that every time he felt the seeds of his cum she stopped moving, waiting until they retreated; and then she would start again - those long, slow withdrawals eliciting a sense of loss, and the delicious kiss of her flesh as she engulfed him again - and again, and again.

At last she lifted herself from the bed. 'It's time,' she whispered, and she knelt on the mattress, offering herself to him in complete surrender. Her posture thrust the mound of venus back, and he saw her cunt set within it like a delicious flower, clean and tight and pink, its moist petals furled back and the stigma open and ready to be pollinated.