Jessica And Alex free porn video

Where should I start… well, I guess I’ll start at the VERY beginning of it all.

My name is Jessie, short for Jessica and my brother’s name is Alex. I was born 4 and a half minutes before Alex to a single mother in a small village outside of Palermo, Sicily on February 14, 1992 (Valentine’s Day!!). I was born with various different conditions, some hereditary and some from just plain bad luck. I am autistic, albeit very mildly. I show no functional issues aside from executive functioning impairments, but developed early language skills when I was four. I was also born with hyperthyroidism, which is a condition that speeds up my metabolism to an unhealthy amount. Today, I am on constant medication to regulate it and must eat in regular intervals. During my growth spurt, my food bill rose to $50 a day!

I was also born with heterochromia, a condition I inherited from my mother’s father. For those of you who don’t know, it’s having two different colored eyes. Think Kate Bosworth or someone like that. My left eye is golden-brown that darkens in the middle and my right eye is a solid blue. I like to think of myself as physically fit. I keep up with a workout routine to help my body’s metabolism stay regulated. I fill out a 34C cup rather nicely and dye my hair various colors, albeit my natural hair is a copper-red. I always had, and always will have, a babyface. I have five or six main freckles that dot it with more that pop out in the summer. My eyes are quite large, my nose is pretty small, and my mouth seems proportional, but I don’t really know. I kind of got used to my face and couldn’t be the judge of its attractiveness.

My brother is also a good-looking individual. We both play instruments. I play guitar, bass, violin, and cello, but he plays the drums. Those drums really beefed his arms up over the years. He’s a bit of a hefty guy, standing at 5’11 and weighing in at around 215 pounds, literally two of me. I’m 5’9, though, so we maintain a good level with each other. Alex was always proud of his physique, even if it wasn’t the best. He’s basically an average Joe with a natural gut and some hefty arms from many years of playing the drums. His eyes are so blue that I swear I could go swimming in them. That was always my favorite thing about him. I love the color of his eyes. His hair is champagne-blonde and has a natural poise to it. Both of our heads are adorned with thick hair, a gift I appreciate wholeheartedly every time I hear about the people losing their hair on TV. His face is usually clean-shaven, long, and slender, with the same basic features as mine. We look and sound a lot alike.

My father and grandfather on my father’s side were both heavily involved in the Italian mafia and for most of my early childhood, my mother and brother and I were hiding, albeit at the time I didn’t know from whom or why. At the age of six, we immigrated with our mother to the United States to finally rid ourselves of our family ties.

When we moved to the states, we first lived in one of many towns in heavily populated northern New Jersey. We barely threw down our bags before our family caught up to us. I don’t exactly remember what had happened. According to my mom, when I was sleeping, my father’s sister had broken in to the house and snuck into our room when we were asleep. Mom felt some sort of “strong poke,” as she describes it, and she jerked to life and chased the intruder out of the house, screaming and landing punches as opportunities arose. We never woke up during all of this, apparently.

We weren’t safe in that house, and there was nowhere else we could live. So our mom sold off everything she owned and bought a 1992 Jeep Cherokee. We lived in that truck for the following two years.

I had a hard time adjusting to elementary school life… I guess that’s where it all started, I suppose. My brother and I already formed a lasting bond throughout our early childhood, and while we were living in the back of an SUV, we didn’t really mind all too much. I guess you could say I am an optimist in a lot of ways.

I distinctly remember the first day of school. We got 7 hours of sleep a piece when Mom woke us up. We slept in the trunk, using the spare tire cover and a bunch of jackets as a pillow. “Okay, you guys, time to get ready for school!” shouted my mother as she revved the engine. To this day, the sound of a six-cylinder still wakes us up, even if we’re dead asleep and it’s just a guy driving by our house. It’s our alarm clock, of sorts.

“Come on, sleepy-heads!” she shouted again over the back seat. “Okay, fine…” said my brother, still groggy. “Mom, I have a headache…” I complained. We’re both NOT morning people by any means.

We got out of the Jeep and brushed our teeth in the back window. We had taken a bath the day before, albeit I don’t remember where. Usually, we’d use these showers at the local public pool to get cleaned up. Sometimes we’d take a bath in a motel here and there, though, for special occasions like this. And for us, it was a special occasion. I remember seeing the school for the first time. It actually looked fairly imposing. It was a Catholic elementary school. It was one story, shaped like a backwards L, and with the larger part of the L topped with a massive church that made it seem bigger than it was. We’d frequently venture up to the church during school hours to observe Mass. We loved this because it meant that we skipped a period.

When I first walked in, I felt very uneasy. I suppose he felt this, because as we walked through those doors, he whispered, “shh… Take it easy, Jessie. You’ll do great,” and it was this small phrase that had resonated with me from the moment I entered to the time I left. The classes were easy (as are all first-grade courses) and the other students were fine. The class was very small; we had 25 students there at the time. We introduced ourselves one at a time as the teacher called on our names. When Alex and my names were called, the teacher noticed the common last name.

“Oh, you two are siblings?” she inquired nonchalantly. We didn’t know what to do, so we just nodded with a “Yes, ma’am,” and a smile.

“So, you two twins?” Again, a nod, this one silent, “How fascinating! It’s not too often that I have twins that are a boy and a girl!”

“Oh… umm…” I muttered. I was, and still am, very shy around new people. My brother picked up where I left off. “Yeah, we’re a one-of-a-kind pair!” he said, nudging me in the shoulder. I smiled back at him for lifting the weight off my shoulders. The teacher smiled and continued with calling the rest of the names. Many of those students have names that I completely forgot. Others have names that I will never forget.

That first class showed me just how selfless Alex truly was. Even at the tender ages of six, we were looking after each other and helping each other out in a genuinely considerate fashion. Between age six to eight, we lived in the Jeep while attending school there. But when we were eight and we moved into our first apartment, it was an experience unlike any other.

I remember stepping in to the house for the first time. “Welcome home, guys!” shouted Mom joyfully as she tossed her bags on the bare wooden floor. It wasn’t much, but it sure beat having to do your hair in a rear-view mirror! And I finally had an answer to which town I lived in, which was a big plus!

I guess before I continue, I’m going to tell you a little about Mom. She was half-Irish, half Italian. My grandfather was born in Ireland and moved to northern Italy before the War. After the War, he trained with the Swiss Border Patrol where he patrolled the Swiss Alps on skis for many years. He met my grandmother at a local deli in the area. Mom was born somewhere in Switzerland but quickly moved to Sicily with her parents. Her hair is curly and red, and freckles dot her skin. She isn’t exactly a MILF; I’m not out to embellish anything. However, she is the sweetest woman in the world. She doesn’t talk about how or why she fell in with the Mafia or what they did to her, but she certainly does not regret getting an abortion, something she was greatly pressured to do. Frankly, neither are we!

Mom sat us down for a quick talk. “Guys, we may need to move again pretty soon, but for now, this is home. Enjoy it!” We looked at each other, nodded, and sped off like lightning to search every cabinet, closet, crevice, and corner. It was mostly a plain little apartment. There was only a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The living room was more or less a wide hallway with a couch in it. But it was the best damn living room I’ve ever seen. “Mom… this is great!” I excitedly cheered. Mom had a warm, genuine smile on her face that is implanted in my mind to this day. Her green eyes watched us dart from room to room with glee as she sat down in the first couch she sat on in years. What an amazing shitty little apartment that was.

A year later, Mom brought out the suitcases again. “Mom… no… we’re not moving again,” I said through my sobs. “Yeah, Mom, what’s wrong with this apartment?” said Alex in tow.

“We have to move… I’m so sorry, guys. I wish it could be different. I wish we could stay. But we can’t. We have to leave,” mom sorrowfully mumbled to us. It was the saddest news I’ve heard in my life at that point. We packed our bags and got back in the Jeep and moved an hour west, to Philadelphia. We stayed in the same school, which was about a 30-minute drive, since we now had the advantage of a highway being in between this new, even shittier apartment and the school. This was a studio apartment, and we slept on this mattress on the ground while Mom slept on the pull-out couch that came with the place. But Alex and I didn’t care.

See, our mother raised us to be optimists. She taught us that we have to see a positive side to every story, that the universe has a balance to it. So while we went to school and learned about the nature of God and the Devil, our mom had another philosophy. And Mom’s philosophy was the predominate one in our house. We never admonished Catholic philosophy, nor will we ever, as Mom also taught us to respect all religions. Her philosophy was simple: there is a positive to every negative and a negative to every positive. For every negative action that happens, somewhere down the line, a positive action will be triggered as a result, and vice versa. The trick is to acknowledge the negatives while reveling in the positives. It’s this recipe that she says will get us through life in an easier way. So far, I’m going to have to agree.

Let me give you an example. There was a negative action of us moving to Philly. We loved that old apartment. And consequently, she taught us that we’re absolutely right. It was a negative. Therefore, there must be a positive hidden somewhere in there. So for the longest time, we looked for that positive. It just so happened to come rather unexpectedly.

Our neighbor below us was playing in a band at the time, and it was apparently rehearsal time, because I could hear him rocking out underneath our feet as Alex and I had dinner while Mom struggled to catch a cat-nap.

See, here’s the sequence of events that set off the positive. First, we moved to Philly. Say that’s a -3. Then we get to school faster. Okay, that’s a +1. We get home sooner and get work done quicker, so more free time, another +1. However, the apartment is crappy, and there’s nothing to do, so -1, making the total -2. Also, the city took its toll, and after a year and a half of living there, by age 10, I was getting frequent migraines. That’s a -2. So that night, we go down to talk to the guy below us, which was a sign of respect, as we didn’t just leave a passive-aggressive note on his door. So that proactive step is a +1. The man invites us in and we had the first sip of soda we’ve had in years, another +1. Then he shows Alex his drum set, and that’s the final kicker, the final +2. Alex was hooked, and by Christmas, he had his very own little rubber drum set and some sticks. He still bangs on those stupid rubber pads to this day. See how things even out?

Mom and we had to move again that year. We moved to New York City, where we lived in the Bronx and went to Middle School in Manhattan. We were certainly not used to seeing Manhattan without the trademark Twin Towers, and Alex and I are grateful every day that we weren’t living there when that happened.

Mom got a job as a maître Dee and would walk us to school every day. She parked the Jeep in this cheap-as-hell lot that filled up fast, so we got to school really early every day and did our homework in the parking lot. Mom would sit with us until the bell rang, then blew us a kiss and waited as we went inside the imposing brick and stone structure. It was the first public school we’d ever attended, and we loved it. The school was massive and had so many kids in it. It was a thrilling experience.

At school, I was always picked on. You know that girl who sits in the back of the room and doodles in her notebook? That’s me. My brother was a knight in shining armor for the most part, and would always help me out whenever bullies became a problem. That school time, however, was short-lived.

Mom was shaken down by some more Mafia guys. We had to move again, and it had been less than six months. Mom came home crying that day; I remember it well. She was sick of the constant running, she said. She wanted to go somewhere far away. So we packed our bags and left.

We first lived in the summer for a couple of weeks in Kentucky, in our uncle’s basement. However, as it turned out, he was a complete and utter nut, and ended up shooting two kids in the head with a Springfield M1903 at close range. Thank God we were at the local deli picking up some sandwiches to eat when he did it, or else we could’ve faced some serious legal problems. After the trial, he was found guilty and sentenced 25 to Life, so we had to move… again. This time, we moved far away… really far away. We moved to California.

Now, Mom was a very financially conservative woman. Our father had been tracking us all over the country, so she had to always stay one step ahead. I give her every ounce of credit for doing so under that pressure. We had a nice sum of cash saved up from her various odd jobs. She worked in lots of different places, from day-cares to restaurants. In between us going to school, she went to culinary school and became a chef, but could never land a job as one, so she saved and saved, waiting to cash in as if something would just fall right into her lap. As it turns out, that’s exactly how it happened.

We moved to a small town called Yountville, about 2 hours north of San Francisco, in Napa County. I was 12 at the time and had spent about a quarter of my life living in a Jeep. This was the first house I’d ever lived in (not counting my uncle’s), and it beat out the apartment by many, many fathoms. The reason why we moved to California is because our grandma was the owner of a restaurant in the area and Mom came here to be the chef. She begged on her hands and knees for the job, and it paid off. She got it, just like that. And so Alex and my lives just flipped 180 degrees. Suddenly, we had an income! We could afford to live! We finished grade school surrounded by snobby, immature kids, but we really didn’t care about that. We were happier than ever together.

Our graduation was seen as a massive triumph. We called up our friends back in Jersey to tell them of the news. Many of them I still see sometimes, if we ever fly out there. We rarely do anymore. That’s a shame… we had such good times there. But back to the story! Mom sent us to different high schools. She said, “I want you guys to socialize with other people other than just each other for once!” As it turns out, she just engaged what would become the worst time of my life by sending us to different high schools.

I seldom talk about my first high school, if only for the fact that it was a very traumatic time. I went to the school on Day 1 with a smile. I left that school on Day 180 with eighty-three new scars covering my body. Why, I don’t really know. I was abused to a level that I didn’t properly quantify to Mom. See, I told her I was being “bullied,” not being “physically and sexually assaulted.” So there was a disconnect there. When I was 14, however, things started to change for the better. I had been on the wrestling team for freshman year. In addition, I was also on a rifle team. I had a love of the shooting sports I inherited from Grandpa, who taught me to shoot when I was 12 and first moved here. Soon, I was competing on the State-level in Pistol, Rifle, 3-Position Small-Bore, and Ranged fields. I love shooting to this day, and go to the range every other day.

Anyways, back to the story. It was when I was 15 that I first found out about my interest in Alex for something more than a twin brother. I could never forget what happened during those fateful sequence of events, and it all played out exactly how Mom had said it would. It all started on the day that my wrestling career was over. It was the last practice. At this point in time, every day I would be expecting to be hit in some manner at least 3 times a day. That was normal for me. But today was special. I was fighting for my sanity, but never really showed it. I don’t know what I did to set these guys off, but they got pissed. So they did the only sensible thing they could do: if you can’t break something with your hands, use a tool.

In this case, the tool was a 4” long stiletto. There were 7 or 8 guys who held me to the ground in the locker room as one of them comes up behind me and starts flaying my back. He cut me 26 times before stabbing me in the lower left part of my lower back, burying the blade to the hilt and leaving it in there. Then, just like that, they all walked out. I stood up and could feel the blade maneuvering throughout my back. I took out a bobby pin from my head and straightened it with my teeth, then took a cigarette lighter and burned the steel of the pin until it burned red-hot. I then ripped out the dagger in one swift motion and shoved the bobby pin in its place. It honestly felt like I had buried a chainsaw into my gut and my back began to spasm out of control.

I didn’t know if my improvised cauterization had actually worked. I then set to work repairing the rest of my back. I fell down two flights of stairs with a roll of duct tape in hand, since I didn’t have the energy to walk down. I went into the bathroom and laid the duct tape in a checkerboard pattern on the ground. I then took the whole roll of that shitty bathroom toilet paper and bunched it up into great big clots and stuck it on the tape mattress. I laid on the paper and taped the whole thing around my torso. I then tried to get up, but I guess I blacked out, since all I remember after that was waking up in the hospital.

Alex was right there the whole time. He sat in that room with me for two weeks. “You know, your sister was smart… she saved her own life,” the doctor said to him. “She lost three pints of blood. Any more blood and she would have died from blood-loss,” he continued. I honestly didn’t know what to feel. I felt slightly ashamed. I also felt lucky. And I felt, as my brother gripped my hand, that I was ready for that positive thing to happen.

Well, as it turned out, it happened at the school dance. Mom pulled me out of that school the day after. I was now going to the same school as Alex. Honestly, it was like heaven. Suddenly, I wasn’t being punched in the gut every day! I didn’t have to cover up! I felt like I had been missing out. At the same time, I felt a sort of resentment. I never really made a lot of friends, and Yountville was a small town. I was still celibate. I wanted to know what love felt like, but not brother-sister love or mother-daughter love. I wanted to know what lover-lover love feels like.

So we went to the Freshman Semi-Formal, that is, my brother and I. He had just broken up with his girlfriend, with whom he had a quick and rather uneventful relationship. I remember seeing her come to our house and seeing them kiss. It was nothing how I imagined. It felt like he was being used for the sex. It felt all wrong… he was certainly right to dump her. I got ready for the dance with Alex. We lived in a Jeep for a long time, so we were used to the idea of no privacy. It kind of weirded us out, if you will, that many siblings never showed each other their naked bodies. We were different, I guess.

“Honey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” asked Mom. Many of the kids that were at my old school would be there, some of whom I have very distinct, unpleasant memories of and others are just plain assholes. “I’ll be alright,” I whimpered back. “You look out for Jessie, now,” she said, looking at Alex sharply. “Don’t worry, Mom. Jessie will be fine,” he retorted.

By this time, Alex had filled out quite nicely from his drums. He now had a Ludwig drum set that sounded incredible. I picked up guitar at his request, and managed to get into it.

“Okay, so where to first, Jessie?” said Alex.

“You know where…” I quickly snapped back.

“We’re there,” he remarked as we made our way through the crowds to the cafeteria.

He didn’t eat much. He’s always been a picky eater. I eat anything on a plate, but mostly due to my hyperthyroidism. I loaded up like I was an African famine victim and sat down at a table at the back of the cafeteria, away from people. I was beginning to get a migraine and my back was starting to itch. My scars were noticeable from the dress and I didn’t want to have to explain them off. We sat next to each other, like always. We never really sit across from each other. I have problems with eye contact, so it makes it easier when we sit next to each other.

“So Jessie, having a good time?” he said about 20 minutes into eating.

“Ehh… been to better dances,” I replied. “Maybe we should call Mom and have her pick us up.”

“Hmm… yeah, you may be right. Okay, I’ll go to the payphone,” he said. The thing about us is that we never argue. We argued once in our entire lives. Our thoughts are always in sync with each other. Five minutes later, he returns to the table with some more snacks. “She’ll pick us up in ten minutes,” he calmly said while prodding his dish with a fork.

I never really thought of him in a sexual way before. I don’t know what came over me. I just looked into his eyes. No, I didn’t just look into his eyes; I looked beyond that. I felt some sort of sense that I had never felt before. There was a heat that was building in my stomach. It was like butterflies, but it kind of wasn’t. I just looked at him intently, as if trying to read his thoughts. I suddenly recounted our times as kids. He was always there for me. He always took care of me. He comforted me when I was sick, gave me a shoulder when I was upset, cared for me when I was scared, and was there to guide me even when I didn’t realize I needed guidance. And in a heat of passion, almost automatically, I reached my free hand to the back of his head and pulled his lips into mine with the force of an automotive compactor. My body drained its energy into the kiss as I was enveloped with passionate heat, a heat I had never felt before, and it felt good. I wanted more. But it ended as soon as it began.

Five seconds after first contact, I disengaged and ran off outside to think. How could I have done such a thing? Have I just destroyed my relationship with my brother? Of course… I’m 14 years old, and I’m celibate. I have barely even touched the idea of masturbation (no pun intended), let alone consensual sex. And now, this! What does it mean? What was I feeling? I was so confused and alone! And just like that, Mom pulls up in that familiar truck to see me sobbing. “Oh my God, Jessie! Are you alright? Where’s Alex?!” she shouted as she ran to comfort me. “Right here, Mom,” he said from behind me. He was watching me the whole time?! What is going on?

We went home in silence. Mom never asked us what happened. She didn’t want to know, I’m sure, not after what happened just a few weeks earlier. She was probably beating herself up in her head for putting us in that situation. When we got home, I retreated to my room and fell asleep in a pile of my own tears. Alex and I shared a room. We slept on a bunk bed. But tonight, he slept on the couch. Still, even in this dark time, he respected me enough to give me the space I so desperately needed. I guess that’s one of the many reasons why I love him so much to this day.

I awoke the next day with a sense of anxiety trembling throughout my body. “Mom… what does love feel like?” I slowly asked her in private.

“What? Why, honey?” she returned.

“Well… I don’t know… I think I had my first wave of love ever hit me, and I want to confirm my feelings, I suppose,” I gently asked. Mom brushed up against me and put her arm around my shoulder.

“Well, Jessie, love is something that two people feel when they have made one of three decisions. These decisions reflect the different types of love that one can feel,” she explained. I listened intently.

To paraphrase, what Mom said was that there’s Passionate love, Committing love, and Intimate love. Passionate love was shared between two people who are out for sex and not much more. She explained that this is what she had with my father, and is the basis of many one-night-stands and such. Committing love is love that is more for the kids or the money than it is for the person. There is a mutual connection, as the two people fell in love in the first place. However, that love will soon fade and become secondary. Intimate love is love that is shared from a spiritual bond with another individual. This love is much more subtle and sometimes can go unnoticed, but provides the driving force for most long-term, prosperous relationships. Unlike other forms of love, this one also gets better with age.

I felt like I left that table with a little more wisdom than I originally had. But I still didn’t feel at liberty to talk to Alex. That night, however, everything changed. Alex came in the bedroom at around midnight. I was still up, thinking about yesterday. “Jessie… can we talk?” he said in his most passive voice.

“Sure…” I muttered and slid over to allow him to sit.

“Listen, about last night--”

“No, that was nothing. It never happened,” I snapped. Part of me didn’t want me to say that, though, and I instantly regretted it. I saw pain in Alex’s face almost immediately. “I’m sorry, Alex. It’s just… I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do--”

Suddenly, his finger rose up to meet my lips, interrupting my speech. He lightly brushed my cheek and looked deep into my eyes. “I don’t want last night to fade away. I want this moment to last…” he whispered. Tears began forming in my eyes as I slowly felt that pressure build up inside of me. The pressure kept building until I simply couldn’t take it anymore. I took his neck in my hand and our lips met once again. My tongue raced into his mouth as we shared a kiss that would last a lifetime. I couldn’t get enough of it! I wanted to feel his lips locking on mine… needed to experience the sensation of his tongue grinding against my teeth! It was so exquisite; the fire between us grew as our kiss went deeper. I wanted to touch his very soul, and in that moment, every inch of my body was covered in the most erotic heat that I have ever experienced. All of those years of us taking such good care of each other, all of those years of us being such good friends to each other, they all melted with my body as our lips locked in fury and our tongues caressed each other. It felt so good… so… right.

We didn’t break the kiss for a full 15 minutes, but we could’ve kept going. I desperately wanted to, but it was late, and we had school tomorrow. We had to get up in 5 ½ hours. And so we reluctantly parted lips. “What just happened?” I whispered to him as he ran his fingers through my hair. “Something magical…” he murmured into my ear. “Sleep with me…” I silently replied as I laid down with him behind me. I let his arm drape over me and fell asleep. That was the first time we had ever slept in the same bed, and I could only hold on to the hope that it would not be the last.

I had a damn good sleep that night. At the same time, I was still quite restless. I mean, I just made out with my brother! And it wasn’t like we just kissed three times and parted… we full-blown made out, and it felt good! Hell, it felt excellent. I wanted to do this every night! How could I be saying that, though? Why would I want to make out with my twin brother every night? It was something that would bother me for the rest of the day.

That day, I recall, went by devastatingly slow. I could think of nothing but the feel of Alex’s warm, comforting lips pressed against mine, his teeth brushing up against mine, his tongue dancing in step with mine. I hardly even remember class from that day. I was simply too high up on cloud nine to focus. I had to lick my lips several times because they dried up thinking about him. Suddenly, being called “That freaky-eyed girl” didn’t really matter. I remember during class sometime, I kind of stepped back and reflected on the emotions I felt last night. Were those emotions what I would later call “love,” or was it simply a heat-of-the-moment passionate type thing? My eyes cringed at the thought that it could be the latter. No, I wanted this to last.

Mom picked us up that day like every other day, and we tried our best to act normal. But it was very hard, and we soon found ourselves locking eyes together again. I knew just what I wanted, and so did he.

When we got home, we sat down around the table, like usual, and had ourselves some snacks. “So, how was your day, guys?” Mom inquired from the living room.

“Long,” I replied, still looking deeply into Alex’s eyes.

“Oh, Jessie? Could you come here, hun?” Mom added. My heart sank at leaving Alex. He gave me one of his “to be continued” nods. I suppose that’s just a twin thing. We’ve become professionals at communicating nonverbally, albeit only with each other. I can’t really do it with other people. It’s funny like that, how sometimes you just find it a struggle with every person but one or two people.

“There you are! I need you to do your laundry,” Mom finished as I came down the hallway. I reluctantly picked up my dirty clothes out of the hamper. I always had a distinct love of flannel. I had a nice collection of about 25 to 30 flannel shirts I’ve gathered over the years. I also loved my Daisy Dukes and my jeans. I love the feeling of good denim. So usually, you could find me in a T-shirt, jeans, and a flannel every fall, the same thing but with a (non-puffy) jacket in the winter, and a shirt and daisies in the spring. In the summer I’d get really ecstatic, because then I could break out the tank tops, which is what I’m washing now. I love my tank tops! I don’t really know why; I guess it’s because I’ve been wearing tanks ever since I was a little girl. Nowadays, I have a whole bunch that I love wearing on those hot summer days.

However, the summer, fast-approaching, was also home to my ailment: overheating. My internal thermostat was always set way too high. My body never gets cold, but seems to get overheated very quickly. It compensates for this by having a very efficient air-conditioning system, and so I sweat like a pig, another gift from my grandfather that’s less pleasing than my eyes. So it’s more or less out of necessity that I wear Daisies and tanks in the summer, but I like those, so it all works out. I have very long legs at 34” inseams to a 5’9 frame, and I love showing them off. I think my two favorite things about my body are my eyes and my legs.

I was just about done folding laundry when Alex comes in to do his own. My body begins to moisten at his mere presence. He gives a quick glance out in the hallway, and then moves towards me. My lips couldn’t meet his fast enough. That same explosion of passion erupts between us, if only for a few seconds, lest Mom hear us moaning into each other’s mouths. I soon began wondering what would happen if we took it one step further, if we went to second-base. Hmmm…

It didn’t happen. Mom came in to check on us, and we decided to leave it on a high note and he returned to doing his laundry. With nothing else to do, I left and made myself some dinner. Still, I wondered, what would it feel like? I’ve never had anyone touch my boobs before. I’m sure Alex has seen a few sets, from his two ex-girlfriends and from various other people. What would he think of mine-- no, wait, what am I saying? Do I honestly want him to see my boobs? How could I be so… so… I don’t even know. But it just felt too damn good to stop now!

This continued on for about a month. He never pressured me to take the extra step. We were both perfectly content with making out, and that’s it. The more we did it, the more of that exquisite feeling started to leak out to other activities, too. Whenever we would be close to each other, I could feel my body temperature begin to climb. What a feeling it was! I never wanted it to end! But one night, it had to.

We looked into each other’s eyes once again, as if to communicate some sort of message to each other. I knew right then and there that we were deeply in love. I could not pry my hands off him as my lips rose to meet his. I welcomed his palette, as I have several times before. The warm, delicate sensation carried me to a land far away, where there was no physical world, just Alex and I together. I wanted to stay there until the day I died. I wanted to be with him until the day I died. And right there, in our most passionate, heated moment together, a knock at the door.

“Jessie? Alex? Can I talk to you two for a few seconds?” Reluctantly, our lips disengaged. “Coming, Mom!” shouted Alex through the door. I straightened up my hair, a bit shaggy from Alex caressing my head, and went into the kitchen, where Mom waited.

“What’s the problem, Mom? It’s kind of late,” I started, motioning to my wristwatch.

“Shh…” she began in her loving voice that only a mother had, “I want you to tell me exactly what you two are doing late at night. I’ve noticed a change in your behavior towards each other in the past month or so since the dance. Now, I want the truth,” she said benignly. My heart sank. We’re finished. Mom always knew when we were lying. It was one of her jobs of being a mom.

“Well, Mom…” I began, but I felt a lump rise up to my throat. I was paralyzed. Just then, Alex saves the day again.

“Mom, Jessie and I have been sharing kisses with each other. I’m so sorry,” he finished with pain in his voice.

Mom smiled and said, “Jessie, Alex, please continue.” We looked at each other, thinking it was a trap. But we’ve dug ourselves this far down already, so there wasn’t much else. I started off first.

“Mom, this is why I was curious to know what love felt like. It’s odd… when I’m around Alex, it’s as if time stops, and he’s the only thing that matters. I can feel my body temperature rise and there’s this… buildup of emotion. When I see him, I think of all the times he was there for me, all the times he cared for me and provided for me. And all of that culminated in a kiss, and brings me to the best feelings I’ve ever had.”

“The same goes for me, Mom,” he started off, “when I see Jessie, I know from the bottom of my heart that we were made for each other. I look into her eyes and see… I don’t know. I wish I could describe it. It’s so vivid, the emotions I feel, when we’re together. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.” He breathed a bit and after a brief pause, took my hand gently. “And I don’t care what anyone else says about us. I love her unconditionally, with all of my heart, as a brother. But now I’m beginning to realize that maybe there’s something more to it. Maybe I love her as more than just a sister.”

“And I’m slowly realizing the same thing, Mom,” I interjected, gripping his hand tightly, “Alex is my brother, and as a brother I have always and will always love him. But I’m discovering that there’s a new, untapped layer to that love. It’s a journey that we’re excited to embark on together, and we won’t leave each other for anything.” I think we did the best we can. But I still felt that unease in my stomach.

Mom leaned back in her chair, as if taking in everything we said. And we said a lot. She sat there for a good 15 minutes. We never let go of each other’s hand. Then, she leaned forward to us. We both felt like we were going to crap ourselves. What would happen? Would she send us both away to somewhere far away where we’d never see each other again? We could only hope that our hands embracing each other at that moment did not represent the last time we’d ever touch each other again.

“Okay, guys. You do realize what you’ve said?” We looked at each other and nodded. “And you two truly feel this way?” Again, we simply nodded. “Okay, then. Here’s what I’m going to do. You two are to have absolutely no physical contact anywhere unless I give you permission.” Tears started forming already. “Don’t think of it as a punishment, now. I want to see if you two are truly serious about this. If you are, then it is my duty as a mother to support your decisions, and I will. I give you my word. But first, you have to earn that privilege. Therefore, you will spend a good amount of time with no physical contact. I encourage you to talk and be together whenever possible, just no contact. This is to see if you two are in love with each other or are in love with the feeling of touching each other.”

It made sense. But it also made me very depressed. We humbly agreed and asked for one final kiss. Mom obliged and told us to do it in our room. We had never kissed so passionately before or since. I couldn’t believe it would all end like this for the next… who knows how long. I wrapped my whole body around his, as if I was trying to force myself underneath his skin. I wanted this moment to be remembered for as long as we lived. And so far, I’ve been holding up that promise to myself. Our lips met each other in wave after wave of passionate release, his hands running through my hair and down my back. I kissed his forehead, kissed his cheeks, kissed every inch of his face. Then, with a final, exquisite kiss on the lips that lasted for millennia, we parted lips for the first time in a half-hour, not to reunite for some time.

Months fell off the calendar as my lips longed to be with his. We did just as Mom told us to do. We never so much as shook hands. It was common practice in our house to hold our word, if not from an honorable standpoint, but from the standpoint that Mom knows everything that happens between us two. And knowing us, we couldn’t hide it too well if we started making out again. So we stayed at arms’ length. For me, it was the most painful time I’ve had since freshman year. My 15th year of living had proven to be one that I would remember of only for how much of a roller-coaster ride it was. First, I was this mess that was being assaulted every day at school. Then I was in the happiest time of my life with Alex, my brother and, if my definition of my emotions suffice, my lover as well. Now, I’m back to being slightly depressed, but also overjoyed at my mother’s decision not to ostracize me or Alex. What a ride.

Six long months went by, during which Alex and I held up our end of the bargain. We enjoyed playing video games together, going out to the movies, getting something to eat together, and just generally doing things a boyfriend and girlfriend do. After a while, we didn’t really notice that ban on our contact. We were madly in love, and it didn’t matter if we had no arms to touch, no mouth to kiss, and no legs to embrace. We could be zapped into amoebas and still be in love with each other. Then one cold day, Mom came in with us in tow, putting on the microwave and heating up some hot chocolate. Then, she decided to bake us some homemade lasagna. She hadn’t baked lasagna in years! Something must have happened. The touching ban never crossed our mind.

“What’s the occasion?” Alex started as he ate the amazing dish. I always loved Mom’s cooking. It truly was her calling. “No occasion, guys. Just wanted to something nice for you two love-birds,” she said through her food. We looked at each other, puzzled. We knew what she was doing. She was reading our faces to see if we’d broken her promise. Genuinely, we did not. We knew we wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. So we sat there in silence and ate.

“Good food, Mom,” I said. It was honestly some of the best lasagna I’ve ever had.

“Thanks, Jessie,” she replied, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “You two want seconds?” she said as she got up, taking her plate. “There’s plenty more!”

We followed her with our own empty plates and took another big piece. We couldn’t get enough. It was such damn good lasagna. She sat us back down again and we ate. “So… what do you guys think I should do with you…” she said. At this point, we were genuinely confused. “Umm… care to elaborate, Mom?” I said through my food.

“Oh, don’t ‘Mom?’ me. I’ve seen the way you look at Alex. And Alex, I’ve seen how you look at Jessie,” she said stoically. “Any mom would do the sensible thing and lock their kids up in dungeons on opposite sides of the world.” We had to agree with that. We were unquestionably in love. It was written all over our faces. A blind man with the IQ of a garden gnome could see that. I started to open my mouth. “Don’t interrupt, Jessica,” she snapped. Oh, boy. When she used my full name, that’s when shit got serious. We were dead. Suddenly, a smile crept up on her face.

“But I’m not that kind of mom that would do something like that to her children. I can see it in your eyes. You two are in love, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it,” she sighed. We were on our toes. You could cut our anxiety with a butterknife. Hell, you could cut it with a blunt stick. “So I’m going to lay down some ground rules. First, nobody knows that you two are both brother and sister and boyfriend and girlfriend outside of this house. If you want to tell anyone, it needs to go through me. Second, if you two get serious, you better tell me so I can start you on the pill. And third, please don’t do more than give a kiss to each other in front of me. I don’t want to see tongue action, either. The idea of you guys doing anything is repulsive enough. I don’t want to see it for real. Just put up a courtesy sign or something on your door. Respect those rules, and you’re free to do as you please.”

We stared at her, wide-eyed. My food fell out of my mouth, I was so shocked! Did our mom actually just say what I think she said?! Alex and I looked at each other in disbelief. I felt a mix of disbelief, ecstasy, and just plain “what-the-fuck-just-happened.” By the look on his face, his expression painted the same story. “Mom… do- does this mean…?” I stuttered.

“Yes. Now get out of here. I’ve got to clean up the food.” She was serious! “Go, before I change my mind, you two love-birds, go!”

We needed no more convincing. We both retreated to our room and put on some music on our stereo hooked up to the iPod. Alex cycled through to some smooth jazz. The song was S’Wonderful by Diana Krall. We still play that song from time to time whenever we do something like this.

Alex sat down next to me and put his arm over my shoulder. It was the first time he’d done that in six months. His touch sent electrifying shivers down my spine, making my toes curl up within my socks. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time, Jessie. Let’s make it last,” he whispered in my ear. Naturally, I am happy to oblige.

I put my leg up and over him, turning my whole body to face him, sitting on his lap. My arms draped over his neck, letting my body hang freely for a few seconds before returning to battery. I thumbed through his thick blonde hair as I stared intensely and passionately into his eyes once again.

My whole body trembled as our lips met for the first time in months. The fire between us instantly erupted into a blazing inferno as we engaged every part of our bodies that moved into the kiss. My hips moved rhythmically up and down his legs as our lips parted and rejoined with greater intensity each time. I could feel his soul drawing closer to mine, drenching my body with its essence like torrential rain. We uncontrollably moaned into each other’s mouths, and I drank up every last inch of passion-filled moan that he shared with me.

Out of instinct, I broke the kiss and shed my shirt as if it were on fire and tossed it into the hamper. My bra remained on, though. Alex’s hand moved to caress my bare back, brushing over the many scars it bore, paving it over with the essence of his being. Again, he broke the long-overdue kiss and started to kiss down my chest, never taking his hands off my back. His tongue found my bellybutton and started gently circling it, sending shivers down my spine where his hands greeted them in earnest. I was in heaven, and he was right there beside me. And just like that, he disengaged. “Jessie… I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor every last moment we have together. No further, please…” he pleaded. With tears in my eyes, I kissed him long and well on the lips for a full 10 seconds to seal the deal. “Thank you,” he gently whispered as his hand brushed my ear.

Every morning, we said “I love you” a little differently since then. For the next two months or so, we came home to each other’s warm embrace. At school, we had plenty of classes together, but everyone already knew we were brother and sister, so it wasn’t weird at all to see us together so much. However, we maintained a strict minimum-touch policy to maintain Rule 5 of Incest Club, as we called it, to allude to one of our favorite books, Fight Club.

Our rules were simple. Rule 1 is we do not talk about Incest Club. Rule 2 is we do not talk about Incest Club. Rule 3 is that what happens in Incest Club stays in Incest Club. Rule 4 is no joining other clubs (AKA no cheating. To this day, fortunately, we’ve never brought this rule up again, since it was never a concern for either of us). Rule 5 is that people either know we’re boyfriend and girlfriend or brother and sister, never both, unless Mom gives us the go-ahead. Rule 6 is that we must respect each other’s word during club hours. Rule 7 is that we must always leave on a high note. And the 8th and final rule is that Incest Club meetings take place everywhere and nowhere (We do it, clean up after, and leave no evidence of anything behind). We felt like these guidelines could maintain our relationship realistically, and so far, it has been going pretty well.

We turned 16 on Valentine’s Day, and had another intense make-out session to celebrate. Then, Mom knocks on our door just as we finished. I guess she heard the moans die down. “You guys done? We got stuff to do?” Reluctantly, I got off my brother and put a shirt on, with him following suit. We went to the kitchen, where a bunch of forms were sitting. “Guess what, you two? For your 16th birthday, you get job applications!”

Now, at first, we were very upset about this. Why hadn’t Mom given us something that she could… I don’t know… wrap and put a bow on or something? “Ugh, thanks…” we both reluctantly muttered. “Once you two are done, come out to the backyard. I have something I’d like to tell you,” she continued, walking out to the backyard, which had these three green lawn chairs on a patch of grass that looked like it was inside of a packaging that read, “1:20 scale.”

“Wait… Jessie, look at the address on these applications,” said Alex. My eyes glanced down… what?! These places were all in Montana! “Hmmm… that’s odd. Well, we do have our uncle there, who’s a realtor… maybe Mom is moving again soon,” I said.

“I don’t know. Let’s just fill these out,” said Alex. We both told Mom that we should start working about a month earlier and gave her input on where we’d like to go. She picked out a bunch of places and sent for applications, apparently. Once we’d finished, we went out back.

“Now, I know how you guys must be disappointed that you didn’t get much for your birthday, and I’m out here to tell you two that you’re sorely mistaken,” she said coyly. We knew she was up to something big. “Did you two happen to hear a tow truck pull up to our house when you were filing those?”

“Yeah, but we thought it was just the guys next door… why, what is it?” The guys next door owned a plumbing firm and frequently had big trucks and vans pull in and out.

Now, before we go out front, let me tell you something. Mom was always living below her means. She was now the head chef at Grandma’s restaurant making a nice $78,000 a year. However, we lived in a one-story little house with next to no backyard in a dumpy part of town. Why? Because that’s all we needed. We didn’t want any luxuries because Mom raised us in a practical manner. To this day, we don’t have a cellphone. All we have are prepaid phones with 60 pre-loaded minutes that have been gathering dust for three years.

As a sidebar, when I was 7 and Mom was working at a daycare, we’d pull up to the parking lot and Mom would get out of the Jeep to sign off the clock sometimes because she’d forget to and her boss would come out to remind her. Well, one time, she forgot to sign off, and while she was, a white and blue Jeep CJ-7 pulls up beside us and this young woman gets out. I remember the truck like yesterday. It was white with painted blue rims and a blue Renegade sign across the side of the hood. It looked dirty as hell and had the top down. I looked at that truck and was instantly hooked by the skin of my teeth. I absolutely had to have one. This obsession grew to an obsession of all cars, but especially Jeeps. My brother got the bug too, and ever since that day, we’ve always wanted two Jeeps for ourselves.

So my mom walks us out front to the driveway, where we found two tarps covering what looked to be quite tall silhouettes of nothing recognizable. “I put ribs in the tarps because I want you guys to guess what kind of cars you’re getting,” she said. The biggest smiles went across our faces as we hugged our mom with great enthusiasm. I honestly was blown away. She bought us cars! I didn’t care if it was a Fiat. I was so happy!

Well, Mom did not disappoint. The amount of emotion that washed over me brought me to tears as I lifted the canvas tarp to reveal that beautiful truck that I had eyed for 9 years of my life. It was white with blue decals, too, just like the one I found that I described to her is such great detail over the years! It did not have the Renegade logo, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at that moment! “Go on, Jessie, hop in,” she said, tossing me the keys. I savored the weight of them in my hand as I opened the soft canvas door. “And don’t think I forgot about you,” she said to Alex, who gleefully unwrapped his present. Holy crap! It was a Cherokee! And a Limited on top of that! That’s an even better model than Mom’s! We felt like the luckiest people on the face of the Earth! “I love you, Mom!” was all I could muster as I ran over to give her the biggest hug I’d ever given her.

And so life was good. We got our permits a week later, and our Jeeps were right there begging to be driven. We still had to drive with Mom in the passenger seat, but we really didn’t care. We had the Jeeps, we had a loving mother, and most importantly, we had each other. Each and every day seemed to bring us closer together. We maintained a silence in public as we promised, and went crazy at night. But we never went farther than making out. Not until a couple of weeks later, when we were visited by an old friend…

I had seen my father maybe twice in my life: once when I was born, and once when I was six, just before we immigrated. So I didn’t recognize him at first. He just stared at Alex and I, standing in the doorway. “What are your names?” he inquired.

“I’m Jessie, and this is Alex,” I replied. He asked for our last names, and it felt like he was trying to prod something. We told him, to which he bent over and told us that he was our father. So I greeted him the only way I knew how.

In wrestling, I learned how to take down someone bigger than me, and that’s just what I did. I came in low and fast, taking his leg with my elbow and plunging the two of us down the front stoop. In one swift motion, I reached my leg over his torso and clutched his ribcage in between my legs, cutting off his air. I gave him a swift left hook to the jaw, dazing him for an instant. I took advantage by standing up above him, sprawled on the ground, bleeding from the fall. My hiking boot found its place in his mouth in a devastating kick that dislocated his jaw and knocked out three of his teeth. “That’s for leaving us! Now stay gone!!” I shouted, crying hysterically. He limped back to his black BMW and sped off. He couldn’t do anything. The cops knew who he was. They’d have nailed a significant member of an Italian crime family. So we got away that time.

Alex came up beside me and gave me that all-important shoulder to cry on. I didn’t want any part of my father entering my life. I was devastated by the idea. When Mom came to the door, I had told her what had happened. It all happened in about 20 seconds… it felt like 20 minutes. I’d be satisfied if I never saw him again. To this day, we never have. Mom hugged Alex and I gently as we both sobbed over what had happened.

That night, Alex and I decided to do something special. My tongue launched into his mouth as we kissed and groped each other in a non-sexual, but still very sensual, manner. But I wanted more. If we were going to do this, I was ready. It had been about a year of holding back. I was ready to take the next step. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered in between kisses. “I’m sure,” I returned with a long, passionate kiss to seal the deal. He moved his hands up my back, running up the rough ridges of my scars, reaching my bra strap. He unbuckled it and I let it slide to our hips.

It was the first time I had ever shown my breasts to anyone. “Be gentle,” I whispered as I wisped his hair in between my fingers. His tongue traced a pattern down my chest to my breastplate as he started on my right breast. I could feel the warm, wet tongue dancing around my areola in a most sensuous pattern. His right hand came up to greet my other tit as he squeezed it gently in my hand. He gently pinched my nipple in between his fingers as he sucked on the other. Electricity shot to the back of my throat as I moaned in pleasure.

His hand started to travel lower, down to my bellybutton, then reaching my navel. “Just tell me when to stop. I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he whimpered as his hand massaged the sensitive area just above my opening. The music was playing. The phone was off the hook. The lights were soft in the gentle glow of his eyes. I desired every inch of his being, every single molecule, and tonight, we will take each other. He softly kissed me as his hand glided, exploring that restricted area at its own leisure.

My hand reached for his cock and found its mark. I had never felt one before. It was hard as a rock through his jeans. Without breaking the kiss, we both got up and shed the rest of our garments. My hand wrapped around his flesh, caressing his cock. My right hand came up and grabbed his head, pulling his lips even closer. His hand brushed over my vaginal opening, and I suddenly felt a jolt of passion shoot through my body. He did it again, and again… my body was shaking too much, so we sat back down, with me sitting on his lap. His hand cupped my pussy, rubbing it in a circular motion, sending me into the clouds.

The more he did it, the faster I pumped his cock. Soon, I was pumping it faster than a car’s cylinder head, and he loved it. His moans made my hair stand on end as we kissed deeply. Just then, I felt a shot of ecstasy shoot me through the ceiling and looked down to realize that his finger was deep inside of me. I rode it hard, and soon two of his fingers fit in there, albeit barely. I could feel my pussy clench as the juices drenched his fingers. My own fingers started to get damp from his pre-cum, which started oozing from that beautiful cock of his.

“Can I taste it, baby?” I moaned. He nodded, and I broke the kiss, traveling down to his pelvis, kissing the whole way down. His hands moved from my pussy to my breasts, caressing them softly. My tongue flicked across the head and it twitched. It tasted sweet, but I couldn’t place it akin to anything I’ve tasted before. But I loved that sweet nectar. I wanted more of it. So I took it all in my mouth, well, as much as I can. He was a big boy, about 9 inches of solid cock that curled up like a banana. I sucked and licked as best I can, and my actions were rewarded with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. “Oh, God, here it comes… oh God… ARRRRRGGGHHH!!!” He shouted uncontrollably as his whole body contorted. Rope after delicious rope shot into my mouth, and I drank it delightfully. It didn’t taste bad at all, and besides, knowing how much I pleased him was enough. His face relaxed after about a minute of flying high in sheer pleasure, and knowing it was my touch that did it was a beautiful feeling.

“My turn, baby,” he said warmly, motioning me to come up. I did so without hesitation as we switched sides. I sat on the edge of the bed, my pussy so damp that it made a small puddle on the floor. He slipped his fingers into my hungry depths. I was no stranger to this, as I obviously did it myself. But these fingers were absolutely exquisite. I let out a massive sigh as my brother fingered me to the heavens. Then I felt his tongue brush up against my clit and flicked it slightly. Oh my God. This blew everything out of the water. I hadn’t lived until this moment. My whole body trembled with absolute sheer pleasure as I approached a massive orgasm.

“Oh, yeah… yes, Alex, fuck your sister! Finger her hard! Yes!” I shouted as I pushed his head into my pussy. One more flick of his tongue off my clit sent me over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, brother! Fuck, I’m cumming! Oh my FUUUUUUCCCKKKIINNNG GOOOODDDD!!!! AAHHHHH!!!” I screamed. I shouted so loudly, I probably woke the dead. My body seized up as I was overtaken by the most incredible orgasm I had ever experienced. Juices gushed from my depths like the Amazon River as my body convulsed and jittered every which way, his tongue never leaving my pussy. It was so amazing, so beautiful! His face lifted from in between my legs, licking the tops of them from the kneecaps to my navel. Looking into his eyes, I knew right then and there that I loved him to death and beyond, that nothing would ever separate us from each other.

Of course, this was but one of many layers of love that we had with each other. And while this love will never be fully satisfied, we were still brother and sister. As such, we needed to attend to that love, too. So we did the most sensible thing we could think of. We put on the Xbox 360 and played Call of Duty together, in absolute bliss, butt-naked.

We both loved video games. We got hooked on gaming when we were 8 or 9 and started walking down to the arcade to play Mortal Kombat. Ever since, we’ve been playing constantly. We also loved hiking, fishing, camping… anything relating to the outdoors. Today, we still play Xbox a ton. We’re on every day. Usually I’m the one playing, though. I love my shooters and my racers, but most of all, I love killing lots and lots of zombies! We’ve had Xbox Live for 4 years as of this writing, and about 43,000 Gamerscore, which is way too much (If you want, PM me for my gamertag! We can play sometime, time allowing!).

This cycle of mutual masturbation continued for another two months or so before we moved to Montana. Our uncle, a realtor in the area, hooked us up with the house there. We got jobs there, too, with me becoming an apprentice at a local garage and Alex working at a music store. And once again, life seemed good. The move wasn’t too bad, either. The house is actually very nice. It has 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom is upstairs, another in the basement. The bathroom is decent and situated just at the foot of the stairs so anyone can reach it easily. The kitchen is very nice and the living room was actually a decent size. Behind the house is a massive plot of woods that horseshoed the whole house and placed about 250 feet between us and our neighbors. “That’s so you don’t wake the neighbors with your orgasms,” Mom said. We chuckled awkwardly at this. We parked our trucks on a dirt mound off to one side of the house; there was no real driveway. It’s just a dirt trail.

Our uncle set up the house before we arrived. “So, you two fine with sleeping in the same room?” he said to us. We chuckled. If only he knew!

“Yes, they are. They aren’t shy,” said Mom nonchalantly, sensing we might fuck it up. Honestly, she was probably right.

“Okay, then. You’re all set,” he said, handing over the keys. Because he’s our uncle, we got a nice bargain on the house. Rent is only $1200 a month for the place! Behind the woods is also a crisp lake that was stocked with small-mouth bass and sunfish, which we love!

The door barely had time to shut before I jumped on Alex. As our lips locked, I forgot Mom was there. “Ahem, please, you two. Get a room,” she said, jokingly.

“Oh… sorry, Mom,” I apologized.

“It’s alright, Jessie. I can tell you’re enthusiastic. Now run off. I have some food to make to celebrate!” she said, pointing to downstairs. “Oh, and by the way, I threw out your bunk beds,” she added. What?! I loved those bunk beds!

Holding hands, we made our way downstairs to find an even better sight. It was a queen size! “It’s perfect!!” I joyfully beamed, jumping on top. Alex wasn’t far behind, and he landed beside me. We chuckled as our lips met once again, and soon, we were too caught up in each other to hear the door open. Mom