My Forbidden Brother: A Shocking Confession of Unlikely Desire and Forbidden Love

I’m writing this as a confession. Kind of. My name is Katie. When I was sixteen I broke up with my first oh-so-serious boyfriend Tom. It was dramatic, though at that age I think all breakups are. Tom and I had been dating for a year. (I know, a whole year.) Things had been going pretty well up until we hit a brick wall called prom. I’ll get to what happened there later, but I should point out that I’m not confessing about a breakup.

After the break up I had a fling. You know, the night of passion you have to get back on your feet and remind yourself that, yes, you can actually go on living without the boy you’ve been mooning over. So I had a fling, big whoop, right? Most people have at least one of them. But this is where things get strange. My fling was my little brother Shawn. There, I said it. You can hate me if you want, but at least hear me out so you can hate me for the right reasons.

Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t set out after my brother. It wasn’t like that. I really didn’t look at him that way. There were a lot of things that made what happened… happen. But looking back on it now I think there was one moment that set things in motion. It’d happened one night a month or two into my relationship with Tom.

***

Shawn and I had a tradition of sorts. Every Friday night we’d watch a movie. If we didn’t have other plans, that is. In theory either of us could choose a movie, but being the oldest, I usually pulled rank and made him watch whatever I chose. This particular night I’d chosen Jurassic Park. What can I say? I like raptors. Anyone will tell you that Jurassic Park is a classic, and if they don’t then they’re full of it. My brother Shawn was full of it.

“The raptors are so lame! I mean how can a dinosaur open a door? Mittens can’t even open a door and you expect me believe they can? Pft, like I said, lame. Lazy writers,” Shawn said with unbearable smugness.

“You take that back!” I shrieked. “Scientists think they were pack hunters. That takes some degree of intelligence. And our cat is an idiot. Case closed.”

“Fine, even if the raptors were legit, what about the awful robots? I mean, come on, I think I’ve seen better stuff on Sesame Street in the last few years,” He said, and crossed his arms.

“You…” I could only scowl at him. I could have explained that the set and props on the movie were cutting edge for their time, but that would have legitimized his arguments. As if! The only appropriate response I had to this was to tickle his unsophisticated critique into oblivion. At thirteen Shawn was still a bit smaller than I was.

I stood about 5’6” on a good day, and Shawn was an inch or so below me the last time I’d checked, though he’d been going through some serious growth spurts in the last year, I wasn’t likely to continue my reign as tallest sibling for long. I was also stronger than he was. I dove at him from across the couch and aimed my hands straight for his sides.

It was his kryptonite. He was the most ticklish person I’d ever met. He squirmed and gasped and giggled. With flailing legs he tried to lever himself out from under me, but I held on. We both tumbled over the edge of the couch. I landed on top of him. That’s when it happened.

As was typical for a movie night, I was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. When I’d landed on top of him I’d ended up vaguely straddling his hips, not in an intentional way, but our hips were aligned nonetheless. He was wearing some loose plaid shorts. My sweat pants and those shorts were the only things separating his throbbing, yes I felt it throbbing, erection and my own naughty bits. What the hell? I mean I was his sister. That was pretty messed up, right?

This all happened in the span of maybe a second or two. In the same instant that I felt his erection pressing against me, he tucked his hips and pulled it away. I looked up to see that his face was beet red. My outrage dwindled at that. Ok, maybe I was being too judgmental. I mean he was a thirteen year old boy, which meant he was three parts penis and one part brain. And I was, to toot my own horn, a fairly attractive and sophisticated young lady. Maybe I should let it go and just take it as a compliment.

“Sorry, buddy, the boner maneuver isn’t going to save you,” I said, and finished tickling him into oblivion, my hips a safe distance away this time. Afterward we finished watching the movie and didn’t speak about it anymore. He was a little awkward immediately afterward, and rightfully so. But by

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THE END