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One of my first memories is staring into the face of a girl with one crooked eye and a twisted grimace. She was always mysterious to me. The others, who had straight smiles and round eyes, seemed to be easy to read. Her happiness or sadness could not be made clear by her expression, yet I learned to read her better than anyone in my family could.

Isabelle is four years older than me, but as an adult, when I think of that small difference in age it seems incredible that the difference in our age is so insignificant. As a c***d I thought Isabelle was a wise old sage. She seemed to be a grown up as she stared at me in curiosity at my apparent perfection of limb.

I was born after her, and even though she was a girl and I a little boy, I always wanted to hang with her. That was fine with her. Because of her condition not many people took time to see what was beneath her crooked face and slow speech. She had absolutely no friends, none other than our immediate family. Izzy's world was our family--school and church orbited around that.

I was the one that was looked at oddly. I orbited around Izzy, too. People called me fag or sissy because I became sensitized as I learned to look at the world through my sister's eyes. When we played Barbies it wasn't because I wanted to be a girl. What we played at was the idea of perfection; she was Barbie with her perfect face and her perfect body and I played the role of all those that would acknowledge that total perfection. As a result, my Dad, who is the manly Italian that you hear about or see in mafia movies, spent a lot of time playing catch with me or wrestling with me in an attempt to toughen me up. It was fine; I enjoyed it, but I always retreated to my games with my sister. You see, fully understanding the effects of my sister's disorders had already toughened me.

Once I asked Izzy why her face was crooked. I was probably three. I know that it sounds strange that Izzy and I could communicate even when I was that young but we could. That time is marked in my memory because it is when she gave me my first spelling lesson.

"I have C P." She said in her slurred manner of speaking.

"sleepy?" Then she turned and went to find a piece of chalk to write on the small chalk board that we played with. She gripped the chalk tightly in her hand and very carefully wrote out a letter C and a letter P.

"C is like cat. P is like Paul. C P. It stands for cerebral palsy." I would later learn that the cause of my sister's cerebral palsy could not be determined. My mother did not suffer any illness during pregnancy, Izzy seemed normal at birth, as well as the first year after. Then one day Mom noticed that one of her eyes drooped and that she wasn't moving her left side.

At first they thought it was Bells Palsy because it affected only one half of her body but her symptoms worsened, her right side stiffened, her speech slurred and her pretty angelic face began to fall on one side; like a landside, a melting candle—paralyzed. Her muscles tightened causing her to limp; walking on tiptoe on one side, her arm drawn up protectively at her side.

But the right side of her body is perfect and untouched. Sometimes I will watch her sitting calmly as she contemplates some task. Her body does not tremble, or twist and jerk uncontrollably as happens when she becomes agitated. Drool does not spill from her lips. She looks like everyone else—and I am surprised. I have come to accept her twisted figure that when it's not evident I'm always shocked.

I'm not exactly sure why Izzy did not gravitate towards our younger siblings; both of which are females. I just know that as I watched them moving towards her, she stood still making no effort to move towards them. Soon their interest was with each other and I was happy that they didn't try to replace me.

I'm smart; at least that's what people say because I began reading well before I ever entered first grade. I have a penchant for learning but that's only because Isabelle and I played teacher and student. Her teacher taught her and then she came home pretending to be her teacher and she taught me. I got pushed up a grade because of it--which was my dream. It meant that I could be in the same place that she was. My parents placed Izzy in a normal school and since I was a loner and she a loner I figured we could be loners together.

But plans do not generally pan out that neatly, and when I began high school as a Junior and Isabelle as a senior, I found that the world is a very cruel place...

My sister is very smart. But people treat her like she's stupid, or they call her retarded because of the lack of control that she has over her movements. In school I found that even though she is in advanced classes and even though she is always on the Honor Roll, the other students, and sometimes even the teachers treat her like she is developmentally handicapped although it should be obvious by her grades that she is not.

The one and only fight that I've ever had was in school and it was because someone was picking on her. Here I am, thirteen years old, she's eighteen and two sixteen year olds are following her down the hall taunting her, calling her 'tard.

I feel like a big angry ball of red fire as I watch her limp become pronounced as she tries to move away from the boys. I may be quiet; a loner but I'm also big; maybe too big. At that time, some would say fat but I was also tall and I towered over those older k**s. I went barreling down the hall and bowled them both over like they were pins in a bowling alley.

I don't remember much, just stomping and kicking and doing everything in my power to maim them. I was told later that I sounded like a wild a****l, but I don't remember. I just remember that my Izzy was being taunted, my Izzy that had never intentionally hurt anyone. She was no one's easy target; she was my sister!

When I was finally pulled from those boys there was blood everywhere; busted noses, knocked out teeth, split lips, skulls bleeding from being cracked against the hard tile floor.

The only thing that saved me from getting expelled was the fact that Izzy had fallen in her attempts to pull me off the boys. She had seriously pulled one of her atrophied muscles and it was unclear whether the injury had taken place before or after the attack. Izzy and I played it as if that had set me off. And the parent's of the two boys were not anxious to have their son's garner a juvenile record for assaulting a girl with CP.

Things did not get better after I fought those boys. Everyone tried to test me; stupid things like calling out names about Izzy from across the room or during an assembly. They were trying to push me; to set me off. One day Isabelle sat me down and put things into a perspective for me.

"Paul, why do you let those people push your buttons?"

She was pacing in front of me, calmly. I would have expected her to be lurching back in forth in anger and annoyance at the behavior of our classmates. But she was very calm.

"Why aren't you angry?" My face was beet red.

"I don't care about them. They can't hurt me. Only people I give a shit about can hurt me."

I looked around quickly hoping Mom and Dad weren't listening. They didn't like us cursing and even though Izzy was technically an adult at eighteen, in their eyes she would always be a c***d. This is something I knew then as much as I know now.

Her voice was still calm but now her dark eyes flashed in anger. "When you let those idiots bug you, then that bugs me!"

I stood up and began pacing myself. "That's exactly how I feel when they say stuff about you."

She grabbed my arm and jerked me around. "I've heard it all of my life. I've always gone to normal schools and there have always been jerks." She took a deep breath, relaxing again. "I am made stronger by it, Paul, not weaker. Don't let those assholes turn you into a weakling. If you let them hurt you, then that will hurt me!"

I looked at her then, standing so straight despite the curve in her spine. I suppose that I always knew that I loved my sister, but it was in that second that I understood that I was deeply in love with her.

PT 2

I sat in the minivan watching as Isabelle headed towards me with her halting gait. She was grinning and even though I didn't know the reason I began to grin too. She paused momentarily to heft her book bag up over her shoulder. I hated to sit there and watch her carrying her bag but she hated for me to get out of the van to help her with things. She opened the passenger door and slid into her seat.

I picked her up from college practically every evening and either Mom or Dad took her to school each morning. I would do it if I could but I was in college myself and sometimes I left class early in order to pick her up. She would crack my skull if she knew I did that but I wanted to. I was eighteen now and Isabelle was twenty-three. We went to different schools...we both figured it was just better that way.

"Guess what?" She asked. She was obviously anxious, her head was jerking, causing her long black hair to fall into her eyes. I reached up and brushed the silken black strands back. Izzy had the blackest hair and the greenest eyes. All of my siblings did. Mine was long too. Since Izzy watched me when I would push my own hair back behind my ears out of my way, I figured she liked it long.

I'm bigger than ever now. My previous fat has been converted into muscle. No, I'm no body builder, I'm no jock either, but I like running and I do it as much as possible. I'm 6'3" now and suffice it to say, people don't push my buttons anymore.

"Why are you grinning?" I asked.

"Okay, remember that guy that transferred in from Iowa?"

My grin instantly fell away. Isabelle was studying business after several false starts in selecting a major. Her interests vary and has traversed the gauntlet from physical therapy to law. Now she's interested in business. Some guy recently joined some of her classes. He has a hair lip that hadn't been repaired very well. He's shy and barely talks.

Izzy will make comments about him almost every day; mostly stuff about how smart he is, how his answers are always spot on, or how she catches him peeking at her and then blushing furiously.

It takes all that I have not to make some disparaging remark about how he's only looking at her because he's one of those rude 'starers' that we hate so much. Then I feel bad because I'm the person that she turns to when she talks about her joys and her woes. But I didn't like how this guy was turning up in conversation all of the time.

So I replace the smile on my face. "Yeah, I remember."

"He talked to me today. Not just hi, not just mumbling, he actually talked!"

She was so happy that a boy had talked to her. My brow crinkled. "What did he say?"

She pulled her seatbelt over her slender form. "He said, 'I don't think Professor Morgan went over these equations." She chuckled. "And I said, 'These are ones he covered before you transferred in. I still have notes on them if you want them.' And he blushed turning so red, he looked like a tomato. But he said he'd appreciate that and maybe if I'm not too busy then maybe I could help him with it."

My stomach felt strange; empty or heavy, I'm not sure; hollow maybe. "Oh...what are you going to do?"

"He said he'd come over tonight to study!"

I started the car and checked my mirror carefully. "Cool, Isabelle." I pulled into traffic paying careful attention to what I was doing as she went on and on about her study date. I wanted to say that it wasn't a study 'date'. It was just studying. But she was so happy and I had no reason to be jealous. She was my sister, after all, and I couldn't hog her attention for myself forever!

When we got home Isabelle hurried into the house, almost lurching because she was running so fast. She was going to fall if she wasn't careful but I didn't say anything. She quickly told my family about the study date and I headed upstairs to my room.

I tried to work on my homework but I was so jealous. I couldn't concentrate enough to form a coherent sentence. I'm not sure what I thought I could do with Isabelle all to myself...I've never thought that far. I just knew that I never expected her to go to someone else.

As I thought about that I felt tears forming in my eyes and I thought, 'You are one sick puppy, Paul. How can you sit here thinking about your own sister?!' But she is not just my sister. She is my best friend. I've never had any personal relationships. It's not because I thought Isabelle would be sad or feel jealous, I know Izzy would want me to be with someone.

Sometimes she will reach up to move my hair out of my eyes and ask me why I don't have a girlfriend. But no girl is like Isabelle; who never seemed to be a k**. Other girls just seem to be giggly, flirty beings that shake their asses in my face to try to get my attention. I like girls; I'm not the sissy that my brothers called me when I was a k**. But that doesn't mean that I want to be attached to someone I can barely tolerate.

The doorbell rang and I walked out of bedroom door and watched from the stairwell as my Dad greeted the boy from Iowa. He slouched a bit, but mostly because he was tall and thin. He had long brown curls that shielded his face and he blushed when he reached out to shake my Dad's hand. The scar of his hair lip stood out stark white.

I guess he was shy because of that scar...and my sister liked him because of it. He was perfection that needed to be uncovered. I went back into my room.

His name was Greg and he stayed for dinner, looking uncomfortable and on edge...but at the same time, happy to be included in our easy conversation. I kept watching Izzy who looked bright and more beautiful then I'd ever seen her.

That night after he'd left Izzy knocked on my bedroom door where I had retreated to watch my television and to get away from the sound of their laughter.

"Yeah?" She came in.

"So?" She asked anxiously.

I glanced at her then back to the program I was watching.

"What?"

I saw her roll her eyes. Her long black hair was now held back by a plastic band and her face resembled a harlequin mask. I know that it wasn't nice to think that but it's what I saw. She was wearing Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt, white ankle socks and pristine white sneakers. She had changed clothes for him.

"What did you think of Greg?"

"He seemed shy."

"He is."

"It's hard to tell how he is being shy like he is."

"Amy said that she thought he was cute." Amy is our sister born right after me.

I shrugged absently. "I guess, if you like hair lips."

She gave me a funny look then turned and left. I slammed my fist on my arm rest.

Greg returned a few days later and then the next week Izzy told me that I wouldn't need to pick her up after school because he'd drive her home. She didn't come home that night until after dinner and she had already eaten out with him.

I was not used to sitting at the dinner table and not looking across at Izzy carefully eating so that she wouldn't choke because her throat muscles don't always work right. What would Greg say if she dribbled food or gagged? Would he know what to do if a piece of meat got lodged in her windpipe? Would he grimace at the sight of her trying to swallow? Could he possible love her the way that I did?

"Why are you looking so evil?" My youngest sister, Marissa spoke. "You don't know what to do without your Izzy here!" I ignored her jibes.

"Greg is sweet." Mom said. Dad just huffed. He didn't seem all thrilled about this new guy showing up out of the blue, either.

"I wonder if Greg is her boyfriend." Amy speculated. I kept my expression from reacting to that word.

"She just met him, Amy." Damn.

"Well, I for one, hope that she and Greg do become an item. I worry that she will spend her life alone. She's a pretty girl and she doesn't deserve that." I chewed my rice longer than necessary as I finally accepted the truth of my mother's words. If I truly loved Isabelle then I should be happy for her happiness. I could clearly see that since meeting Greg, she was a lot more happy. That night I fell into a restless sleep; but at least I had let it go.

Sometime in the middle of the night I heard a quiet noise. When the noise didn't stop I finally dragged my eyes opened and concentrated on the sound. There was a steady sound of the mattress creaking softly and soft moaning coming from Isabelle's room. I sat up in bed suddenly. Hell no! She had snuck that bastard into her room!

I had never had a reoccurrence of the red haze since that day that I'd beaten those two boys so badly...until now. I stormed out of my bedroom. In my minds eyes I saw that fucker on top of my sister and I couldn't think of anything else. I pushed open Izzy's door.

But Greg wasn't there. My sister was all alone, lying on her bed with her gown hiked up to her hips. Her right hand was shoved between her thighs, her fingers rapidly working in and out from between her spread legs. Her breasts were uncovered and for the first time in my life I saw Isabelle's breasts. Her nipples were darker then I would have thought; nearly a ruddy brown against her pale flesh. She writhed on her bed as if she were in the throes of a convulsion. And now that her door was open her moans were loud and impassioned. She jerked when I came into the room and moved quickly to cover her nudity.

I didn't know what to do. I stood there for a second before turning tail and hurrying out of her room, closing the door soundly behind me. With all of the commotion my Mom and Dad had come out of their room and met me in the hall.

"What's with all of the racket?" Dad looked like he could take on an army by himself. My mouth gaped open, unable to form words.

Amy and Marissa came out of the room they shared. "What's wrong?" Amy asked, looking around nervously. Suddenly Isabelle's door swung open. She was wearing her robe over the gown that now covered her nudity. She didn't look at anyone but me. She hauled off and smacked me hard and then she pointed her finger at me but didn't say a word. Everyone gasped but Izzy turned and walked back into her room, slamming and then locking her door.

"I...I thought I heard a noise." I said as I rubbed my cheek. Then I returned to my own room, feeling crushed that she'd slapped me. Soon everyone returned to their beds. But I just stood there in the middle of my room unable to get the picture of Isabelle masturbating out of my mine.

It was totally unexpected, but I felt my dick rise. I'm not going to lie, I've had forbidden thoughts of her. I've pictured her naked in my mind, but I've never pictured myself fucking her until that very moment.

PT 3

Isabelle had not talked to me for two days. At first I just avoided her as well. Frankly, I was embarrassed. But then when it became evident that she was really pissed at me, I began to watch her closely at dinner as she talked to everyone else except me. My feelings were more than hurt. I don't have any friends...just acquaintances. All that I love is wrapped up in my sister.

I had an opportunity to pick her up from school. She and Greg had no plans to meet up after class so I decided that it was time for me to bridge the gap between us by apologizing. She climbed into the minivan silently.

"I'm sorry."

She ignored me.

"Did you hear me?"

"I'm not deaf."

"So...are you going to hold a grudge against me forever?"

She turned bodily in her seat to glare at me. "Why did you do that?"

"What? Izzy, I swear I didn't know." She thought I had just planned to catch her masturbating! "I heard a noise and...I thought..."

"What did you think?!"

"I thought you and Greg were fucking. That's what I thought." I glared at the street as I drove.

There was a long pause. "You thought I had snuck Greg into the house? I thought you..."

My brow creased and I glanced at her. "You thought what?"

"I don't know." She sounded confused. "Look, Paul, I'm sorry I hit you. I misunderstood."

I was gnawing on my lip as I drove, still frowning. What had she misunderstood? "So...you forgive me, then?"

"Nothing to forgive, little brother. It was just a misunderstanding." She stretched out her left hand and rubbed my arm. It seemed that she had trouble extending it.

"When was the last time you had a massage, Iz?"

She chuckled. "I've been too busy."

"You can't neglect that. It's important as any other part of your physical therapy." She needed her muscles stretched at least once a week, more if possible. She hadn't had physical therapy in a few weeks. I felt peevish as I thought about how she let some boy side-track her from her health issues. Without the massages her muscles would atrophy and once that happens it's not reversible. Surgery is the only way to release the atrophy, but she would never be able to regain the elasticity once lost. It would curve her body even more and if the curve in her spine became even more pronounced it could cripple her.

"Yeah, you're right Paul. I can make an appointment for Jim this weekend." Jim has been her physical ther****t since she was a toddler. He is an old, white haired man now with strong, muscular forearms in an otherwise slender and stooped figure. I used to watch him put her through her paces, the grimace on her face as he loosened her muscles back to a subtle state, and then the relief as she was able to straighten her limbs.

"I'll play Jim." I said. I've done it before but more just playing.

"Ok, then I can get a full treatment in by the weekend."

When we got home Izzy took a long hot bath. It helps to loosen her up. I pulled out the massage table and set it up in the family room just as Jim does.

Mom came downstairs and smiled. "Good idea, Paul. Izzy has been stressed lately." She went back up to simmer water. She gets into the whole vibe about atmosphere and will kill the lights and burn incense or simmer herbs to optimize Izzy's therapy. Jim never complained, though sometimes I'd start wheezing.

When Izzy came downstairs she was wearing a tank top and athletic shorts and Mom had already set up the simmering pots. Low oldies music was flowing over the system and Izzy gave me a quizzical look.

"Mom." I said in explanation.

She chuckled. "Well kill the music, or put on some trans."

I found an ambient station and Izzy lay face down on the table. Her left leg was bent and resting on her perfect right one. Damn, that was not a good sign. I picked up the regular baby oil and poured a liberal amount into my palms. There are all kinds of fancy oils but in truth, baby oil is just fine.

I gripped her left leg and gently began to pull it. I felt her try to extend it but it didn't completely straighten. My goal was to have it straightened before the end of the session. I rubbed my oil slickened hand up her calf where the muscle there was always tight...there and her thighs.

Isabelle is not dark as our Italian heritage would tend to suggest. She's rather pale yet with a healthy glow. Her left side is withered and seems delicate, but it's not. It can take a lot of punishment and does. Right now I'm kneading and stretching, pulling and pressing deep into her muscle tissue.

Even though she goes through this torture on a regular basis I can hear her biting back her pained cries. I don't like it, but I do it because it has to be done. After a long while her leg extends and she moves it freely. I move upward now; to her glute.

The gluteus maximus is a huge muscle that gets tight and draws up her muscles on her side as well as down her legs. It affects her posture and can trigger much of her sciatic pain. I use my fingertips to dig into the muscle there. I can see her face now and she is grimacing.

"You shouldn't have waited so long. The muscles are tough as raw hide."

"Shhh." She murmured with closed eyes, seeming in deep concentration. I continued to rub her butt muscle, punishing it as much as I had her calves and thighs. I moved my attention to the other, healthy butt cheek to test the muscle, to compare and she jumped a little.

"Sorry; comparing."

"Ok." She murmured. Was she falling asleep? Now that her muscles were loosened I made my touch more gentle and just concentrated on rubbing oil into her body. My forearms were cramping and so it helped me to rest them a bit by being more gentle. I'd already been working on her for close to sixty minutes and I still hadn't touched her arm and side.

I moved back down and began rubbing her toes. She wasn't ticklish normally but she giggled and flexed them. I laughed too and moved up to her ankles, kneading gently. My fingers began to glide up to the hollow behind her knee and she shivered, skin breaking out in goose pimples. She sighed again, eyes still closed. I put more oil onto my hands and pressed my palms against the back of her thigh. Her muscles began to tremble again beneath my touch. I've seen it happen before when her muscles have been worked a lot. She'll definitely be sore. It was nice to rub her softly. I liked the feel of her skin.

Then suddenly, the image of her writhing passionately in her bed flashed to me. My breath caught in my throat and sweat beaded on my forehead. I've massaged her before; lots of times, and yes I enjoy touching her...but not in a sexual way. This has never happened to me!

I could feel the blood rushing to my dick, and I could feel it thickening in my pants! Mortified, I glanced at my sister. Her eyes were still closed and she appeared to be sleeping, her breathing even and quiet.

I never felt so much like a pervert in all of my life. I should stop the massage, but she was sleeping and the feel of her skin was so wonderful. I could enjoy it for a moment. Feeling my breath coming out in shallow, guilty puffs I relished the feel of her silky flesh as I kept picturing her fingers buried inside of herself.

Her pussy would be tight and never touched by any hands but her own. I pictured myself rubbing her pearl, and the glistening liquid that would coat those lovely lower lips. Yes, I am a virgin, but I have pictured these things in my mind many times, but never, never while I was touching her.

I closed my eyes and thought of other things, trying to push aside my growing desire. I changed my massage tactics a bit by starting out gently and increasing the pressure on her forearm and biceps. Her dark eye lashes fluttered slightly and then she fell asleep again.

Soft ambient beat, simmering pot of herbs, a full body massage...of course she had fallen asleep. I worked her arm for a while and then moved to her back. It's stupid to rub only one side of a person's back so I pushed her shirt up slightly and began rubbing her lower torso. She sighed in pleasure. It sounded like a purr. My hard-on spiked and my fingers trembled.

Leaning over my sister's body I again imagined her completely nude and then I imagined myself over her, pushing into her body. I paused and put more oil on my palms and resumed rubbing her back, digging deeper into her muscles but not hard enough to wake her. I let my fingers glide beneath her top. She was wearing a sports bra and my fingers brushed it lightly before moving back down.

"Take this off." I said. "I'm going to get oil all over it." Lazily, she propped herself up and struggled with the shirt until it was up over her head and then she dropped it on the floor.

"Thanks for not pulverizing me like Jim would have." She muttered, closing her eyes as she settled back down.

"Mm hm." I replied. I was focused on the slight material of the sports bra. Beneath it are the slight mounds of her breasts, peaked by dusky areolas and pinkish nipples. My eye lids fluttered and I had to press against the table, pushing back against the erection that was straining forward.

My hands moved up to her shoulders and she moaned loudly. "Rub my neck, Paul. God it's tight..." she reached up to move her long ponytail out of the way.

"'kay." My fingers kneaded her neck and shoulders, they brushed the silky strands of hair that have fallen from the ponytail, I pressed my cock against the table. My shortened nails grazed her skin and she shudders and moans.

"Wow...that's good." She's humming softly in satisfaction and my mind retreats into a white cloud of lust. All I can think of is hearing those moan because my cock is buried inside of her pussy. I wanted to hear her screeching and moaning the way she had that night I'd walked in on her. I could see myself making love to her and this time I didn't care that I was a pervert. Maybe I'm not the only18 year old guy that has had i****t fantasies...but do others fantasize about fucking their crippled sister?

The question didn't still my hands from moving over the back of her bra. I toyed a bit with the binding material before slowly slipping my fingers beneath it to rub against the marks left by the bra. With shaky hands I moved down once more and rubbed along the rim of her shorts. I moved them down a bit, rubbing and kneading. I wanted to kiss her dimples that marked the top of each ass cheek. I could see the top of her thong. I knew that she sometimes wore a thong because I'd seen them in her laundry basket.

My hands began to move up both thighs now. She still hummed lightly in pleasure; perhaps purring, I'm not sure which. Somehow my fingers inched towards the bottom of her ass cheeks before quickly retreating, only to creep up there again, a bit further this time. Now my cock was on fire. My mouth was parted. I wanted to push my tongue into that space between her thighs, where my thumbs hovered. I could graze that area innocently-- my hands were already on her ass...

I blinked suddenly. My hands kept massaging, moving, rubbing but my eyes were glued to that space where her thighs met. Her shorts; the crotch was wet.

My heart was beating so hard and fast. She was wet. Isabelle's pussy was leaking because of my touch, my fingers, my attention!

I could not have stopped the moan that escaped my lips if my mouth had been sealed by duct tape. And my thumbs, that had been so close to her wet crease, gently stroked the crease of her pussy. I was rewarded with silky wetness that clung to my skin.

Izzy stiffened. If she would make me stop it would not be before I dipped my thumb into that wet well. Gently, I slipped first one, then the other into her and her breath came out in a quick rush. Instead of leaping up and smacking me, I saw her pelvis roll slightly at my touch.

I could barely breathe. I was panting. She was letting me finger her! Slipping my forefinger past her panties (they were sodden!) I stroked the swollen lips of her inner labia. My finger moved forward and I grazed her clit. Izzy sucked in a soft breath and still she didn't rise. I was stroking her pussy!

Stars were shooting past my vision and I realized that I was holding my breath, about to black out! Catching my breath, I continued stroking her gently, and with my other hand I undid my pants and slipped my hands inside. My palm was still slick with oil and my stiff shaft sliding through my grip brought a grunt to my lips. I quickened my stroke while rubbing my sister's pussy, flicking her clit, watching her ass roll and listening to her soft moans.

It was too much sensory overload and with a low cry I began to cum! My cock was purple, I had never been so hard in my life! Semen shot out and landed on her naked thigh and that's when I felt her pussy begin to tremble. Isabelle let out a cry of her own and when I looked at her I saw that her eyes were watching me working my cock. I kept rubbing and rubbing, mewling like an a****l, squeezing every bit of cum out!

Izzy's eyes seemed to glaze and I saw her bite the back of her arm to hold back her yell. Her eyes closed and her hips began to pump faster against my hand, grinding onto the cushion of the massage table.

I felt weak when the last spurt of semen dribbled over my fist. I swayed on my feet and with one last stroke of her swollen pussy I withdrew my finger. In one last act of perversion, I slipped that finger into my mouth and sucked it clean. I would remember that lovely taste forever.

Izzy rolled over, away from me, climbing down from the table and landing lightly onto her feet. Her muscles were not jerking and her head was not flopping around in anxiety.

Her back was to me but she turned her head in my direction. "Go to the bathroom and get tissue!" Her voice was commanding, urgent, but I could not tell if she was mad, glad, or freaked...I hurried to the small bathroom and grabbed toilet paper. I felt like a k** when I stood in front of her holding it gripped in my hand. She was pulling on her shirt.

"Clean off my leg." I jumped into action and cleaned my semen off of her, holding my pants up with my other hand. For once I couldn't read her emotion. She didn't smack me, so that was good I guess.

When I was done cleaning her I flushed the toilet paper. She watched me with green hard eyes. "After you put away the table and clean up down here, go up to the kitchen, get a bottled water and ask Mom when dinner will be ready."

"Wha-? Why?" I didn't want to see my Mom. I wanted to go to my room and think about all of this, maybe talk to Iz about it.

"Just do it." I watched her limp up the stairs and my feelings were hurt. I was confused and unsure of what I had expected to happen—but certainly not this. But I did exactly as Izzy had commanded. My mother was in the kitchen cooking and when I saw her I felt a fresh wave of fear and guilt. I grabbed a bottled water.

"Izzy's walking a lot better." Mom commented absently. "I so appreciate that you take care of your big sister." I concentrated on unscrewing the lid from the water.

"Not a problem. When will dinner be ready?"

"About half an hour."

I headed out of the room. "Alright, I'm gonna wash up."

"Okay, Babe." I hurried up the stairs and went straight to the bathroom. Why did she make me do that?! My heart was beating out of my chest! I started the shower and stripped out of my clothes. I stood with my head under the spray of water in total disbelief at what had just happened. I'd fingered my sister...but I didn't feel guilty about it. She had climaxed; which meant that she had liked it, too.

At dinner I kept my eyes on Izzy but she was pretending that nothing had even happened. She even asked me something about school. I stuttered and stumbled all over myself. How could she be so calm about this?! I glanced around the dinner table and everyone was talking and acting as if the world hadn't just changed.

After dinner I followed Isabelle up stairs. "What do you want?" She snapped. "I have to do my homework." I followed her into her room, shutting the door behind me.

"We need to talk about this." She stared at me. I didn't know what to say, then I figured that I would just tell her how I feel. I opened my mouth.

"Did you plan that?" She asked.

"No!" She just stared me. "I didn't know that was going to happen, Iz. I didn't plan it." She nodded, I guess convinced that I was telling her the truth.

"Well it's never happening again, k**do."

"Don't call me k**do." She shrugged and flopped down on her bed and picked up a book.

"Look, I have homework." Then she gave me a dismissive look. For a second I realized that by doing this thing I had totally messed up our relationship. God...what if she never was my Isabelle again?

I felt my eyes flood with tears. Shit, as if I needed to start crying at this moment! "Fuck..." I wiped my eyes. "I love you. Deal with that." Then I walked out of her room and went to my own.

Pt. 4

For the next few weeks Isabelle continued with her strange mood and I moped. She made arrangements for Greg to bring her home from school and lots of times they would come back to the house to study, or he'd stay for dinner. I avoided them as much as possible by hanging out after school. I even got a part time job even though I had a full academic scholarship.

I thought that in time, maybe my desire for her would lessen. I thought that the images of her masturbating would lessen, and that I would stop replaying the erotic massage. Instead I thought of these things more and more. Nightly, I'd jerk off in my bed, hoping that Isabelle could hear me. I know it's stupid, but I couldn't help it. I felt that if she could allow herself to be turned on by the idea of me then...then...I don't know.

One day I came home and went up to my room to start my homework. But before I could reach the door I heard Isabelle crying behind her own closed door. Despite the fact that she no longer opened up to me, my heart dropped at the sound of her sobs. I opened her door without knocking and she looked at me startled. She was lying across her bed clutching her pillow.

"What's wrong?!"

"Nothing. Leave me alone."

I slammed the door. "Damnit, Isabelle. Tell me what the fuck is wrong!" She gave me a surprised look. "Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?"

"No." She buried her head into her pillow. "Please go away." She sounded so forlorn that I couldn't stand it. I sat down on the bed beside her and placed my hand on her back. It was the first time that I'd touched her in weeks. She didn't pull away.

"What happened?" I pierced my lips together. "Is it Greg?" After a moment she nodded. I held my breath. "What happened, Iz?"

After a moment she sat up. She had been crying a long time, her eyes were red and her face was swollen. There was little control over her muscles as she twitched and jerked and tried to calm her breathing by gulping in air. I didn't know what had happened but I already wanted to choke the life out of that weasel, Greg! The red haze was making a reappearance, creeping up on me like a fog.

"Greg...Greg is the first friend that I ever had, well, other than you." She swallowed. "I thought that because of his hair lip that he...understood what it's like to be shunned. He's so shy." I stared at her without emotion. "And then when he started opening up to me, and hanging out with me, I thought it meant that he..." She grew quiet.

"He, what?" I prompted.

"That he accepted me." I looked away from her. "But instead, he only wanted to take me places where no one could see me. Here, or in class where everyone knew that I was smart. He didn't want to walk with me on campus. At first I tried to convince myself that he was just really shy. But...Well, anyways, I asked him to stop at the store on the way home tonight. He didn't want to but he did, then he wouldn't go inside with me, so I finally just asked him straight out. 'Are you ashamed to be seen with me?'"

I still didn't look at her, but I could feel the rage increasing within me. She had told me long ago that only someone she cared about could hurt her. And now here she was crying. She had trusted someone and they had broken her heart.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said that we look like two freaks walking together."

"Oh, I'll kill him."

"Paul." She said solemnly. "It's out of context. It is true, though. To him we look like freaks." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Then my rage slipped away and I gripped her and pulled her into my arms.

"Oh, Izzy, please don't cry." She placed her head against my face and relaxed her muscles as much as she could.

"I'm not crying because he hurt me...well not completely. I'm crying because I LET him hurt me. I knew and I just wanted it so bad, you know?" I stroked her long hair.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I want you to be happy."

"I'm sorry." She murmured.

"Why?"

"Because I made you take the blame for...you know; what happened." I didn't move. I couldn't believe that she was talking about what had happened between us. I quietly waited for her to continue.

"Paul, I'm so sorry." She looked at me. "Please. Go out and love someone. You don't have to be like me; alone."

I gently cupped her face. "I'm not alone. Isabelle, as long as you are in my life, I will never be alone. I told you before that I love you-" she pushed out of my arms and stood. "Isabelle-"

"You are talking crazy. Paul, you are my brother!"

"I'm in love with you."

She closed her eyes. "I don't want to lose the little I have." I gripped her wrists and shook her firmly.

"Isabelle! Look at me." She did. I stared deeply into her eyes. "There has never been anyone but you, and there never will be." She tried to pull away and I wouldn't let her go. "I want you, Isabelle, but in the right way. I don't want to sneak around trying to find hidden moments with each other. I want to make you my wife-"

"Oh my god." She pulled away from me roughly.

"I want to marry you." She turned away from me. "Isabelle, I love you, I'm in love with you-"

She spun around. "Paul! Look at yourself! Have you looked at yourself?! You are beautiful! You are fucking beautiful!"

I was shaking my head. "You are. Don't you get it? Greg can't see you, but I do. Izzy, I will take care of you, I'm never ashamed of you-" She took a deep breath.

"Paul. Paul, honey, no. No!" I rubbed my face.

"Isabelle, you love me, too. I know it. I feel it. Or you wouldn't have responded to me!"

She looked sick. "I will never, ever, do that with you." Fresh tears appeared in her eyes. "I'll never talk to you again." I felt like she had kicked me in the stomach. "If you don't stop this—ALL of it, jerking off so that I hear you, looking at me like you do...if you don't move on with your own life then I will never talk to you again."

I couldn't trust myself to speak so for a long time all I could do was stare at her. Finally I nodded. "Okay." I left Isabelle's room. Okay.

PT 5

I kissed Rachel. She could kiss for hours. She was addicted to it. She was tall with long red hair and a shape that was perfection. I'd been seeing her for a month but this was the first time that I was going to bring her home.

I thought that when I lost my virginity, I'd be 'sprung'. Rachel was addicted to that as well as all things to do with sex. We did it a lot. But I still thought of my sister more than I thought of my girlfriend.

"Paul?" She broke the kiss and pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Why don't you cut your hair? You look like a girl."

I laughed. "I look like a girl just because I have long hair? I'm over six feet tall with a six pack and no boobs." I continued to laugh.

"Well, it's just that I like short hair. You would look so great with short hair." I stood up and walked into the kitchen of her apartment.

"I'll think about it." I said absently while retrieving a bottled water. "Babe, do you want a water?"

I heard her sigh. "Are you changing the subject?" She stood and sauntered into the kitchen with me.

"Were we still talking about it?" I swallowed some water.

She stepped up close to me and molded her body to mine. "Yes." Then her arms went around my neck and she kissed me again. "Because your hair gets into my mouth more than mine does."

I smirked. "I could wear a ponytail." I kissed her back.

"Ha. That's so nineties."

"It's not that long. It's just over my shoulders. And some people actually like it."

"Like who?"

"Like me."

She smiled. "I'm sorry, hun. I didn't mean to be...you know." She stroked my hair. "If you like it, it's fine with me." I pretended to smile.

Rachel pulled up into my driveway. I had spent the night with her, not something I do often because my parents frowned on it. I either lived here or I lived with her.

"I hope they like me." She said as I got out of the car to open her door.

"Why wouldn't they?" I gave her a lingering kiss.

"Is that your sister?" I turned in time to see the curtain at Izzy's window move but no one was there.

I looked back at Rachel. "I didn't see anyone." I ushered her into the house.

My Mom poked her head out of the kitchen, Dad came out of the den, Amy and Marissa rushed into the room. You would have thought the President of the United States had just come through the door. I looked up at the top of the stairs and Isabelle was standing there with her head flopping and her lip pulled down into a grimace, her hand clawed at her side and her muscles jerking.

I turned to Rachel and introduced her to my family. They each greeted her with a look of awe; as if they could barely believe that I could pull such a beautiful creature. Isabelle's slurred greeting was met with Rachel's cheerleader-like hello.

We gathered in the living room for the obligatory meet and greet. Rachel sat on the couch next to me holding my hand. She is one of those girls that can talk to anyone about anything. She would be some man's trophy wife one day; not mine. I don't love this woman. I love the woman that is sitting across from us in the armchair with her head flopping like mad and her leg twitching and arm stretching and jerking.

Amy gives her a curious look. Even they could see her agitation. Rachel started talking to her in a slightly elevated voice, speaking slowly as if she is both deaf and dumb.

"Isabelle, Paul says that you are majoring in business."

"Economics. Logistics."

Rachel frowned before masking it with a look of interest. Izzy's words had been so slurred that she hadn't been able to make it out, and I didn't interpret for her. Mom got up to finish dinner and I noticed that Dad was checking out Rachel's shapely legs. We watched tv, chatting a bit before I excused us to take her up to my room.

Once the door was securely locked I turned on the radio and we made out for a while as Rachel kept pretending that she didn't want to because my family might hear, but touching my dick until I got hard. Mom called us down to dinner and I could tell that Isabelle was staring at the way Rachel's lipstick had suddenly disappeared.

Isabelle usually talks a lot but she barely said anything unless someone asked her a question. She didn't eat much, either. The food didn't seem to want to go down and she gagged a few times. Rachel averted her eyes but I could tell that she had lost her appetite. I just gave her leg a slight rub beneath the table. Before dinner was over I gave Isabelle a long look. I think that she could clearly read my expression: This is what you wanted.

***

I lifted the last box and placed it into Rachel's car. It was hot as hell out. I had picked a fine day to move out. It had just hit 90 degrees but the humidity is what does you in. I had stripped off my t-shirt and was wearing just athletic shorts. My long hair was held back by a backwards baseball cap and I know it was dripping with sweat.

I took off my hat long enough to swipe back my damp hair. Rachel had not convinced me to cut it. I'd given her an ultimatum; I cut my hair when she cut hers.

It was Saturday, no school. Mom and Dad were playing golf, Amy and Marissa were out doing whatever obnoxious teen girls did. Isabelle was quiet in her bedroom. Over the last two months; since the incident in the basement, our relationship has been strained. For once I was the one that retreated. The way we used to talk and hang out never returned. When she made attempts to engage me in conversation I just responded but did nothing to really initiate it. The rare times that we caught ourselves alone together I made my way to another area of the house. And because of school, my job and Rachel, I no longer picked her up from school.

Last night she had come into my room.

"What's up?" I had asked absently as I leafed through a magazine.

"This is your last day at home."

I looked at her and got off my bed. "Yeah." I moved to my desk chair. "I guess so."

"I'm going to miss you."

"I'll be back to visit. I'm not moving to mars." She began fiddling with things; her movements jerky.

"Do you love her?"

I took in a deep breath. "I'm not in love with her. No."

She started breathing really fast. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I can't have you. You are the one that I'm in love with. You are the one that I want to be with. But you said, 'Go out and love someone; someone else.' So I did."

Izzy shook her head and then left my room. I hadn't seen her since.

Now, I was sweating and looking forward to being done with this. My prissy girlfriend dislikes sweat. She has a long list of things that she dislikes. But I can take care of this one. The house is cool. It feels good. I retreat to the bathroom and strip out of my shorts and hop under the shower spray. I was scrubbing my hair when heard the shower curtain open. I didn't get alarmed, I didn't even jump. I took time to rinse the soap out of my eyes before looking at the crooked form of my sister.

She was so beautiful, stripped of her clothes and standing there nude. Her long black hair shielded the sight of her pretty small breasts. She wasn't like Rachel, full of curves and big breasts. She was slender and small. My eyes scanned her nudity. My imagination had not done her justice. She was perfect.

Isabelle stepped carefully into the shower. I took her hand so that she wouldn't slip. Then I turned to face her, allowing her eyes to scan my body. As she stared at me, my body began to react. Her hands came up and she placed them on my chest. I shuddered when they trailed down my belly. Her fingertips grazed the shaft of my cock.

I moved my hands up to push her hair back and at the sight of her darkened nipples I lost my breath. Reaching behind me, I turned off the shower but Izzy had already moved forward and her mouth had latched onto my nipple, her tongue flicked and teased me. My cock shot up. I lifted her bodily and moved us out of the bathtub.

No one was home, we moved naked to her bedroom with me locking the door after us. Again Izzy moved to me, wrapping her arms around me as she showered my chest with kisses. Surprised, I gently lifted her chin. And for the first time in my life I kissed my sister; with passion and hunger and unleashed lust.

"I can't lose you..." She cried out between kisses. "I can't lose, my Paul. You are my beautiful beautiful, boy."

"Lizzy..." I picked her up and carried her to her bed. "You are the beautiful one. Can't you see that?!" I lay down beside her lithe form, looking down at her; taking in everything.

"Through your eyes I can. You make me beautiful." I kissed her again to shut her up. I didn't want to hear the depths of her insecurity. With shaky hands I touched her breast, my thumb rolled her nipple and it grew impossibly hard. Her body began to jerk, but I knew (or hoped) that it was because of unreleased passion and not fear.

My mouth closed over her breast and Izzy groaned. I had wanted to do this for so long. My hand moved down to her dark mound, and I watched her torso jerk even more as I crept downward. Fuck that! I suddenly scooted bodily down the bed and I nestled between her parted thighs. I could see the lips of her pussy as they flexed. I could see the moisture and smell the heat of her passion. Using my thumbs I parted her and dropped my mouth to suck at her glistening folds.

I felt her hands in my wet hair, but only from a distance. My mouth and tongue was busy exploring her clitoris, and dipping into her well. She dripped with wetness and I feasted between her legs. Isabelle's body bucked and very soon she cried out loudly in the throes of an orgasm. It was so very sexy! It was what I had pictured so many months before; her thrashing on her bed in the throes of a passion that I had brought! I sucked and lapped not sure when her orgasm ended, but finally my own need was too great to ignore. I wanted to be buried inside of her body!

I rose above her, shuddering with need. "I won't come in you Izzy, but I need to be inside of you..." Then I slipped into her, feeling her barrier and then gently pushing past it. So that asshole Greg hadn't gotten this far! I was her first! I made every attempt to be careful of her delicate body as I slowly pumped in and out of her tight canal. Her movements had calmed and I worried that I was hurting her. Should she be so tight? I watched her and saw that she was watching me with the same intensity.

"Am I hurting you?" I would stop if so, but prayed that she would say no.

"Don't stop..." She groaned. Her eyes closed and as I moved in and out of her I watched her expression change. Her breath caught in her chest and then she released it in a sudden rush. I felt her hips begin to copy my pace. She pushed against me and I almost lost all control.

Izzy opened her eyes and we stared at each other. I knew our eyes mirrored each other, because we were one side of the same coin; she is my sister, my blood; we were the same.

I lowered my head and kissed her as I sped up my pace. She was still tight, I was still careful, but her grunts and moans let me know that she was enjoying the loss of her virginity and it was making it so very difficult for me to maintain any control.

"I love you..." I murmured against her lips. She nipped them lightly and gripped my ass, pulling me against her.

"I couldn't lose you, Paul. I tried so hard not to come to you, but I couldn't lose you!" I pushed into her faster and faster as if by fucking her harder I could convince her that I was with her.

"Ohhh, Izzie!" I cried out suddenly and pulled out of her, gripping my cock in my hand, squeezing until I had spilled myself onto her belly. I collapsed onto the bed beside her when there was nothing more. Izzie reached down and tentatively touched the semen pooled on her skin. I watched her, tired but content. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and tasted my cum. She looked up at me.

"I always wondered what you would taste like." I smiled softly. Then I got up and tipped to the bathroom where I got a wet towel to clean us both.

"I love you so much Izzie." I said as I wiped away the blood and semen from her body.

"I love you too, Paul; more than you will ever know."

I blinked. It was the first time she'd ever said anything like this. "Well, tell me. Because I'm...in the dark about exactly how you feel."

She sat up and touched my face. "You amaze me. I wonder how a person can mean so much to me. How can one person be my everything; my sun, my moon and my stars? Paul, I love you so much that my heart feels huge with it. You are everything that I want in life."

I closed my eyes and started shaking, tears streamed down my face. Fuck, this is not what I wanted to be doing right now. She put her arms around me, showering my face with kisses.

She continued speaking in a whisper. "I did not want this to happen. I would have let you go, but it hurt so bad to see you with her. I want to be her so bad. I wish I was her-"

"Izzie! No!" I pulled her into my arms and kissed her roughly. But her words bothered me so bad that I had to release her. "Why would you say that?"

"Because...she has you in the right way. I want you so bad, Paul, but I can't have you, not the way she can. I want to be her-"

"Don't say that again!" I stood up. "Isabelle, get dressed." I stormed out of her room and went to the bathroom where I pulled on the shorts that I'd been wearing previously. I finger brushed my long hair back and put on my baseball cap. While I was pulling on my shoes and socks Isabelle came out of her room dressed in shorts and a spaghetti string shirt. Her hair was messy and my heart ached as I replayed how it had got that way. She gave me a questioning look.

"Paul?"

I smiled at her despite the fact that the last thing I wanted to do was smile. I was about to turn our entire world upside down.

"I'll be back love." I walked out the door.

PT 6

I didn't return that night; it was a long night. I called Isabelle just long enough to tell her that I loved her, which I said five times before hanging up. I didn't want her to think that my not returning had anything to do with having second thoughts. I was just very busy.

What I did was to search for my own apartment. I found a small but very nice place near both mine and Izzy's campuses. I was told that I could pick up the keys at the end of the week once all of my references checked out. Then I moved my belongings to a rent by the week motel. It was pretty late into the night when I finally made it to Rachel's.

She had been blowing up my cell phone but I had it turned off.

"Where the hell have you been?!" She ran out to check her car. "I thought you'd been in an accident. I called your house but Izzy said you had left hours ago." I flashed her a look.

Rachel suddenly turned back to the car. "Where are your things, Paul?" But her expression seemed to show that she already knew the answer to that question. I cared for Rachel and I took my time to explain to her that I could never move in with her because the love that I was supposed to feel for her wasn't there. She made me explain it over and over and then after a lot of tears, she kicked me out.

I went back to the motel and slept. The next day would be even worse than this one. Tomorrow I would tell my family that I intended to marry my sister.

***

Sunday dinner is a day where all of my brothers and sisters try to get together even though we seldom make it to church anymore. There are seven of us and my oldest; Bryan has young ones now.

When I came in, Mom asked me where Rachel was. "Rachel and I aren't together anymore, Mom."

"Oh Paul!" I gave her a peck on the cheek. "I got my own place, and I told her last night that we were over."

"Well, you didn't know her very long." Dad commented. "Not that I blame you for rushing things." Then he gave me a broad wink. I glanced at Isabelle who was setting the table. She scowled.

I knew that everyone would depart as soon as the meal was finished so I needed to break my news to them while we ate. It wasn't hard to do, the conversation automatically moved to me and Rachel.

I looked at Isabelle nervously and she gave me a questioning look.

"I don't love Rachel." I commented to my brother David when he asked me how I could give up such a good-looking woman. And of course someone asked what did love have to do with it?

"Well it has everything to do with it. When you love someone you are willing to make the biggest sacrifices in the world for them."

"The biggest sacrifice is giving up-" Bryan glanced at his wife and wisely chose not to complete that thought.

I swallowed and licked my lips. "I couldn't move in with Rachel because I'm in love with someone else."

Isabelle dropped her glass and my mom jumped up to clean up the spill. Isabelle gave me a shocked look.

"You were cheating on Rachel?!" Amy exclaimed.

I shook my head. "I was cheating on the one I love with Rachel." Isabelle was shaking her head no. But it was too late for that. I would love her in the right way because that is what she deserved.

"Everyone...the person I love is someone I've known all my life. She's been my best friend, sometimes my only friend. I love her like I could never love Rachel or any other woman." No one spoke, not even the k**s. Dad's head swung around to look at Isabelle. Isabelle stared at me blankly.

"I love Isabelle."

"Oh my god..." David said. Mom dropped her fork and Dad's face started turning red.

"Paul? What are you saying?" He asked. "What the hell are you saying?!"

"Dad, I'm saying that if Isabelle will have me then I want to marry her."

"Oh my god!" My mother said.

"That's i****t! It's disgusting and it's i*****l." Amy yelled. "You are sick, Paul!"

"Shut up, Amy!" Dad yelled. But he was staring at me with a look of fear and yes, disgust.

"Paul...what have you done?"

Bryan suddenly leaped up and he grabbed me by my shirt front. "You fucking pervert, did you touch her?"

"STOP IT!" Isabelle's chair went crashing to the floor as she stood. She limped over to me and Bryan and he released me.

"Ask me, Paul. Ask me." She was staring at me. I smiled.

"Isabelle, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Bryan's wife grabbed their k**s and hurried out of the room. Mom started sobbing softly. Dad just stood staring at us.

"Yes." Isabelle said. I gripped her hand. Marissa was the only one who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange. Her words were so quiet that you almost had to strain to hear it.

"Why is it that no one else could see it? I always knew. Paul has always loved Izzy and Izzy has always loved Paul." She looked from me to Izzy. "It's like...coming out of the closet; they had to." I stared at the youngest member of our family. Yes. I was nodding my head. Yes.

"It's not natural!" Amy said.

"Deep down, you all knew, just like I did." No one responded.

"But it's against the law!"

"Not in Ohio." Isabelle spoke. Isabelle and I looked at each other. "It's not i*****l for consenting adults."

"It will always be against the law of god." Bryan said bitterly.

David opened and closed his mouth, than he spoke in a quiet voice. "Well how did Adam and Eve populate the world without...you know, i****t?"

"Don't say that word!" Mom said.

Dad stormed out of the room. "Paul. Follow me!"

I didn't want to leave Izzy alone, but I needed to face our father like a man, so I gave her hand a quick squeeze then I followed him to the study. I shut the door after us and he began pacing, he glared at me after a moment.

"What you've done is beyond..."

"What exactly have I done?"

"Having...knowledge of your sister!" His face went red with rage.

"Dad, you can't think that sex is what this is about. I love-"

He was shaking his head. "It happens sometimes, all of the time maybe...that you develop an unnatural attraction to a family member. But you don't act on it! It goes against nature, son!"

"Listen to me, okay?" I pushed back my hair in frustration. "I love Izzy in a way that goes beyond the love that I feel for any other person. It didn't develop when I got my first boner! This is not a minor crush. I want a lifelong commitment with her. I'm coming to my family...our family because I'm not going to make it dirty. I can't sneak around with Izzy because what I want with her is not about sex...that I could get with Rachel, okay? It's about commitment and love. I want to live my life with her!"

"You want to take care of her, protect her. It's what you've always done, son. This is just the next logical conclusion to you...but it's not the right way!"

I raised my brow. "Do you really think that you will talk me out of this? It's already out, okay? It's out and it can never be hidden! There will never be a time that I won't feel this way about her!" The door opened and Isabelle came in. Dad glared at her, then his look softened and he looked down.

"Dad, don't yell at Paul. In fact, if there is anyone to blame for this it would be me." I tried to disagree but she held up her hand. "Every since Paul was a baby, I'd stare into his crib, trying to understand how he could be so perfect. I understood my CP and that it was something that developed.