Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Credits to my fabulous editor zoyiab.
This letter seems long overdue. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. There are so many thoughts in my head, so much I want to say. I just can’t find the words. So let me start at the beginning of it all.
You were all of six years elder to me, but it felt like so much more. You were always so much more mature and understanding. I don’t remember Mom, was she pretty? As pretty as you, I mean. Sadly though, I remember Dad.
Dad was a real mean one. Remember that squalid little place in Hell’s Kitchen that we called home? It was replete with memories of abuse. Every day, he came home from the docks, smelling of cheap booze and let out all of his pent up frustrations on us. I still have some faint scars and welts on my back and thighs. Strangely, I like them. They remind me of us and what we endured together.
I think I was ten when Dad abruptly stopped hitting me. Your scars kept getting worse though, but you never failed to give me that comforting smile through all those bruises. I know you never wanted me to know but I do. You made a deal with Dad that if he stopped hurting me, you wouldn’t fight back any more. But don’t ever think that I was spared. Those blood-curdling shrieks from your room as he lashed out at your prone body still ring in my head. The things you did to protect your weak younger brother. I never saw anything but a smile on your face, a smile that failed to mask the frightful bruising, and that was just the start.
Remember your eighteenth birthday? We had saved up a little money for a cake. Of course, Dad found it and spent it on some booze and a complimentary beating for hiding it from him. That night we just sat in my room hugging each other as the cruel winter air swirled around us. A thermostat was such a luxury, and we were so far behind on rent itself. The door opened with a crash and we saw Dad stagger in surrounded with half a dozen of his buddies from the pub. Two of them threw me out of the room while the rest of them traipsed in, led by our dear father obviously.
I vaguely remember two of them holding you down before the door slammed shut.
I am not even going to try to imagine the kind of emotional and physical trauma you went through that night. I stood against the door wailing my twelve year old lungs out and banging against it desperately. I am sorry, Rach, I know how much it hurt you to hear me crying, but I couldn’t help it. Your screams intensified as I heard slurred sounds of encouragement as different men mounted you. After an hour or so, I did the unthinkable, I looked through the keyhole. I still remember the sight vividly- three huge grown men forcing their oversized erections into your slender frame. Some nights I wake up sweating after seeing that scene in my mind again.
Sometime late at night, I saw them stumble out of your room, laughing. They took out some rolls of bills and handing them to Dad. Then they left, still laughing.
Remember my feeble attempts at comforting you? I tried my best to wipe away your tears in the morning. I swear I tried my best. You just would not stop crying. I held you tightly and refused to let go unless you stopped crying.
It just got worse from there.
You tried your best to hide it, but didn’t do a very good job of it. Suddenly, Dad had a lot more money to squander on booze and your condition just got worse. You hid in my room while trying to suture up your belt-wounds with cheap fibre thread, but I knew. You tried to cover your cigarette burn marks with long sleeves, but I saw them as well. You cried in pain as you tried to bandage your vaginal lacerations, and I heard them all.
Then there were the times he forced me to watch.
We endured him until I was fifteen. Finally, he decided to pick on someone bigger than his kids. Unfortunately for him it was a drunken biker in a leather jacket. It would be his last bar fight. One would think our hell ended there.
It wasn’t long before our sleazy landlord knocked on our door for many months’ worth of rent. You tried to give him the little money you had hidden from Dad but it wasn’t nearly enough. We were unceremoniously evicted.
The cold winter seemed so much worse when we were on the street. You always looked out for me, even with whatever little we had. We got a tiny one room grotto in the Bronx with a shared bathroom. Shared by an entire floor I mobilbahis güvenilir mi might add. The living conditions were unsanitary at best, but we were content. There was no one else.
Remember how many jobs you worked just to make ends meet? Seedy jobs, a cocktail waitress, a stripper, even a submissive. You came back with scars all over your body where your sadistic clients got particularly “friendly” and a G-string full of cash. You spent the necessary little on rent and food and handed over the rest to me to buy some books and study.
I knew how tight the money was back then. I got a job at the local warehouse stacking crates. Remember that time you walked into the warehouse with that livid look on your face and dragged me out? Imagine that, dragging a sixteen year old back to the flat and ordering him to study. That night when you came back late at night, you got me my favourite kind of pastry and sweetly cradled my head while you apologized for your actions. I just want to tell you, you didn’t need to, I always knew you had my best interests at heart. That never changed.
When I told you about my plans to become an author, you were ecstatic. I always had so many stories to share with you that it seemed like a natural choice. I was eighteen when I submitted my first manuscript, and subsequently got my first rejection letter.
That night, I was inconsolable. You held me close and tried comforting me with your soothing words but it was no good. Finally, you decided to take me some place special, some place where we would be so far detached from the grim reality of our existence that I could forget my grief. Honestly, I had no idea what you had in mind.
But I knew it was going to be special.
I admit I was a bit amused when I saw the familiar expanse of Central Park. I remember silently wondering what kind of surprise you could possibly have in store for me there.
Remember how you made me close my eyes as you guided me by hand through the dense foliage? The cool night air kissed my face and I heard the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. I opened my eyes just a sliver to see the vast natural expanse unfurled in front of us, bathed in the clear moonlight. You immediately spotted my indiscretion and playfully chastised me. So, I closed my eyes again.
I remember walking for a long time. The terrain sloped gently upwards. After a while, you asked me to stop. You held me by my shoulders and turned my face in the direction you wanted. Then, you softly asked me to open my eyes. What I saw in front of me was a sight to behold. The best way to describe it would be- soulgasm! Yes, Rach, my soul had an orgasm in that instant.
From our elevated vantage point, I could see the dense green terrain unfold on all sides like a large billiards board. The moon shone down upon everything creating a surreal ambiance. At the far edge of this panoramic vista, the glittering towers of the metropolis rose up, like brightly lit spires, their pinnacles aspiring to touch the sky.
Time had stopped as I just stood there drinking in the majesty of the scenery in front of me. In slow motion, I turned to look at you. You were smiling a beautiful, affectionate smile that seemed all the more alluring under the pale light. Your beautiful honey blonde hair formed a whitish halo around your face in the lunar light. Your eyes were shimmering with love and you parted those sumptuous lips to kiss me. The moment was perfect. We had transcended our bond of sibling love and all that was between us was love. We shared a love that was beautiful in its purest form, unrivalled in its intensity and yet somehow innocently affectionate. I do not know what possessed me then, but I leant in and you did not shy away.
An unseen current passed between us when our tongues touched. There was no moral wrong or incestuous misdeed in that moment. We were soul mates, created out of the same mould by the unseen hand in the sky. We had endured so much and emerged together. Shared grief, shared hardships, shared trauma…..shared love. How could anyone say what we were doing was wrong? How could something wrong feel so right, so natural?
The intensity of our kiss quickly built as your tongue thrust itself deep into my mouth. There was an exquisite ardency to our first kiss. I wanted that kiss to never end, as my tongue swirled in different regions of your mouth, stopping to savour mobilbahis the intimacy. You reciprocated by kissing me back with an equal amount of fervour. When our lips finally parted, a while later, your eyes were searching my expression for a sign of guilt, a hint of remorse. Even a trace of regret and you would have suppressed your desires and walked away. You wonder how I know this. That telepathic bond between us, where you could almost sense my thoughts- it worked both ways. This was always meant to happen, no matter what the world thought of it.
Remember how we lay there, on the soft grass, awash with passion? The stars were twinkling down on us, like a myriad of diamonds. I could feel your hand beginning to snake its way down my torso until it gently slipped inside my pants and grasped my shaft. The feeling at the instant your cold fingers encircled the girth of my member was indescribable.
There was no rush, no haste as you gently stroked up and down the length of my turgid erection. All throughout, you whispered in my ear how much you loved me and wanted to make that night special. Soon, our clothes were lying in a heap beside us as your lips locked mine in a torrid kiss while we lay there on the grass. Slowly, your mouth shifted and you began to work on my neck. It felt so sensual as you kept up your tender ministrations.
I was lost in an ocean of bliss as your lips snaked their way down my torso until they were inches away from my organ. You looked up at me, with a distinct twinkle in your eyes before going to work and methodically devouring it. Your silky lips worked their magic as I felt my climax slowly building.
Sensing my arousal, you stopped and then lay down on me, guiding the head of my engorged pole to your wet, inviting folds. We were about to shatter the ultimate taboo, but nothing could have felt more right. Remember how I gasped out loudly as the velvety walls of your vagina ensconced my sensitive head? I was in a trance when you slowly began to gyrate your hips against mine.
Your to and fro motion was gentle and you kept eye contact throughout. Even before I knew it, I could feel the throes of ecstasy as waves of longing pleasure swept over my being. I was hurtling towards the edge of reason and beyond that, I did not know what lay. Suddenly, I felt myself fall into the precipice. There was darkness all around as I grappled to find something solid. Then, the full force of my first climax hit.
The feeling was akin to an electric charge surging through my body. I could feel myself floating on thin air for a while as I was silly with post orgasmic pleasure, barely aware that I had deposited several ropes of cum deep inside you.
The world spun back into focus. The starlit clear sky shone down upon us as I slowly shifted my gaze back to your eyes. Looking deep into those beautiful irises, I found only love. The very love that transcended all barriers of guilt and incest was flowing freely between us without a word spoken.
Do you remember how many times we had sex that night? I fail to recall the exact figure. For me it was a continuous stream of climax after climax as you played my body skilfully to give me the highest levels of ecstasy.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms. You woke me up several hours later. I shook off the residual sleep as you pointed in the direction of the city. I rubbed my eyes and followed your outstretched finger to see the first rays of the sun just breaking the horizon. It slowly raised itself to the point where it gave the buildings a dazzling halo. I watched on in wonder as the bright sunlight illuminated the entire skyline in a vivid kaleidoscope of colour. It reflected off the tall buildings to create a fabulous effect. I had my second soulgasm in a few hours. We put on our clothes and went back.
That night will forever be etched in my memory as the day I celebrated true love. I know I did not get to take your virginity, that honour goes to our father, but you got to take mine. All I can say is that, there is no one I would have rather lost it to.
Remember by second manuscript, and my second rejection letter? Only this time, I knew not to give up. You were stubborn on me writing my third manuscript as soon as possible. That got rejected as well. Four more rejections later, I finally wrote something worthy of my publisher’s time.
It took off, like I could not have imagined. The copies mobilbahis giriş flew off the shelves with stunning speed as my novel raced up the best-seller charts. The royalty from that novel itself was more money than everything we ever had. I hosted a grand party at the Ritz-Carlton in celebration and you were my guest of honour. Everybody came by and congratulated me on my work and I gave them my best smile. I waited and waited for you to come. The party was in full swing when I received the phone call…
A drunk driver on Mercer Avenue had changed my life forever.
Now, I do not blame God for taking you away from me. I have learnt to rationalize it as a good thing- someone as pure and beautiful as you had no place in this dark world, but why was I left to suffer? Couldn’t we have been together when it happened? You left behind a hollow shell of a man, suddenly lost and unable to find any answers.
I do, however, blame God for making you suffer. For three days, you lay in the ICU as the doctors desperately tried to revive you. I stayed there the entire time, hoping against hope, praying with as much religious fervour as I could muster. Your angelic face was hideously deformed. The monitors showed your rapidly deteriorating condition. I waited, willing you to wake up and tell me one last time how much you loved me, to gaze into those pristine eyes once more.
But sadly, it wasn’t to be. After three days of unimaginable suffering, the monitor finally showed a flat line. Half of my soul had just vanished; the other half did not know what to do.
Now, I did not cry, I swear. There was no grief at first, just a feeling of shock and devastation. It was as if my mind had gone numb. I walked about the next few days in a dull haze, vaguely aware of my surroundings and the condolences people gave me from time to time.
At your funeral, I had prepared a eulogy for you. Just a sentence in, the dam of calmness burst. In the middle of St. Paul’s cemetery, surrounded by scores of people, I cried. I wailed and sobbed like a baby. I know how much it hurt you to see me cry, but I couldn’t help it. I am so sorry Rach, but I could not hold those tears in any longer. If you were looking down on me in that moment, I am sure you wept as well. I am so sorry, but I just had to let it out.
Since that day, I have looked all over for signs that you are looking over me. When I was a kid, you convinced me that Mom had become a star after she died and looked down upon us from the sky. Are you a star now Rachel? Do you smile down upon me, with that smile that washes all my worries away?
I also want you to know, that you were my first and last. No matter how many times my publisher throws herself at me, or how many lewd pictures of herself my editors’ wife sends my way or how many ladies try hooking up with me at parties, I can never bring myself to doing it. What we shared that night was special and I cannot have sex with another. It just would not be the same.
It has been a decade since you passed away. I know you are proud of me and how much I have achieved in that time. That novel was the first of six very successful works. I raked in more money in royalty and publishing rights than I could have imagined. I want you to know that I owe it all to you. You were always there for me whenever I needed you.
Last year, during a book tour in London, a journalist asked me about you and the relationship we shared. I hinted at what it was like and left it at that. This hint caught the fancy of the world and I have since been inundated by millions of requests to write an autobiography, specifically about us.
So this is it. This is the last chapter of that autobiography. I have not held anything back and described all that we went through in detail. I have one more surprise to tell you about dear sister. I will be joining you soon.
Yes, Rachel, I have thought long and hard about this and have come to my decision. I will mail this to my editor and then go out to my balcony for one last smoke. In my will, I have left specific instructions that all the revenue from my autobiography should go to the Rachel Hastings fund. I established this fund to help victims of child abuse in New York get medical assistance for free, like we never got.
That concludes my letter. I shall be going out to my balcony now. I know that it breaks your heart to see me in any sort of pain, so I decided this way would spare you any more heartache. A 25 storey drop will be painless. I will probably be dead before I hit the pavement.
Your dearest younger brother, Wayne
PS- You had better be waiting at the gate for me. You know how I tend to get lost when I go to new places.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32