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Introduction:

A dark story about forbidden love
This story was difficult for me to write. Not because there's violence or anger. I've done that before. Not because it's dark, although it is. This isn't the first thing I wrote that you weren't supposed to giggle or rub your way through. It has the good v. evil struggle that some writers explore, although I'm not sure, in this case, how good “good” is, or whether “evil” is to be hated or pitied.

I felt the urge to create something disturbing and to challenge myself to write something I've never done before. Here's my first attempt at writing a story with male characters who interact sexually. They love each other, for a variety of reasons and in a variety of ways.


* * * * * * * * * *

“Put the knife down, Randy,” I said.

He acted like he didn't hear me. I walked closer to him and clicked off the safety on her gun. “For God's sake, Randy, put the fucking knife down and get off her. Now.” I was struggling to keep my voice calm. This was my brother, after all. My identical twin brother.

“You're being a real buzz-killer, bro,” he said. “You always were. Never any fun. Always acting like you had to be the conscience for both of us. Well, it's time to shut the fuck up and back the fuck off. You should know why I have to do this,” he said. He pushed himself up on one arm, still on top of her. He moved the knife slowly away from the side of her neck, a tiny red line appearing as he slid just the gleaming point of it over her skin, teasing her with it. He thrust his pelvis, forcing his penis further into her.

There was nothing I dared to do.

Maria somehow controlled her breathing as Randy rested the tip of his switchblade in the hollow of her throat.

“You know what happens next, don't you, bro?” He pushed again, driving his cock deeper into Chief of Detectives Maria Rodriguez' shaved pussy. “I'm gonna fuck her better than you ever did, and then I'm gonna kill her. Just like all the rest.” Thrust.

“What do you mean, 'all the rest'?”

“I'm onto you, Ronnie. I've been watching, you know. You're the king of short-term relationships. You never wondered why those girls stopped calling? Why you couldn't reach them? They're dead, that's why.”

“Dead?”

“Don't feel bad. They didn't love you. They weren't worthy of you. They just needed a good fuck.” Thrust.

“You killed them?” If that was true, my twin brother was a serial killer.

“Yeah. They were trashy, dumb sluts. No one misses them. This time, you caught me, so you get to watch. You might as well. You're the guilty one here. If you pull that trigger, the entire world will see you that way. You're fucked, just like your current girlfriend.” Thrust. “Put the gun back where you found it, bro. You know I'm right.”

“You killed them? You killed those women?” I asked.

“Sure. It was easy. They let me into their homes, 'cuz they thought I was you. You never even told some of them you had a beloved twin, did you? That hurts, bro. Anyway, they trusted me, at least until they knew they were going to die. Abject terror on the face of a dumb bitch can be a big turn-on.” Thrust.

“The cops haven't stopped you yet, but I will. This ends now. I'll kill you. I'll blow your sick fucking head off,” I said.

“Well that will just solve everything, won't it?” Randy asked, flashing me what appeared to be a smile. Thrust. “They'll think you're guilty of ALL the murders if you kill me. It'll blow their minds. I'm already dead, remember? Plus, my DNA is as close to yours as anyone on earth. Fuck that 'copy number variants' shit on gene matching. You left enough DNA in those girls' homes and pussies to confuse anyone.”

“So what?” I shouted.

“If they start with the assumption that you're the killer, they'll be able to poke holes in a genetics defense. You're fucked, bro. The only way you stay off death row is if you let me live.” Thrust. “She dies, but I live.”

“No, she lives, and she testifies to the whole damn thing. I won't do time, Randy. I won't have committed a crime. She might have to bust me for something like illegal discharge of a firearm or some such shit, but no more women will lose their lives because of you.”

“I do believe you're serious. You are, aren't you?” he laughed. The tip of his ugly knife was still poised to perform a rather messy tracheotomy on Maria. Thrust.

“Dead fucking serious. I will kill you. Put the knife away, and get off her now,” I said. I took a step closer to the bed. There was no way I would miss his head at this distance.

“Don't get any closer, Ronnie,” he said. Thrust. “Here's how it's going to go down. You shoot me – my weight alone will drive this blade practically through to her spine. She might bleed out, or she might drown in her own blood, but she will die. So will I, obviously, although for some reason you don't seem to care about that. You'll still be a killer, only now, it's for real.” Thrust.

“Don't hurt her, Randy. She doesn't know anything about you. No one knows about you.”

“She does now, doesn't she? There's really only one thing I can think of to do about that. You'd better leave if you don't want to see it.” Thrust.

“I won't let you do this.”

“Of course you will. You can't take the risk of murdering me. After all, it will be obvious that it was you that shot me, and if you killed once, who knows? They won't have me to prosecute. It's okay. I can see you understand. I'm watching your finger. I know you. Hell, I am you, and you're me. You're not gonna shoot.” Thrust.

Maria's quiet tears spilled over onto the pillow, her lips moving in mute prayer as he energetically raped her. Her wrists were held to the bed-frame with her service cuffs, and cruel lengths of bare wire cut at her ankles. Relentlessly, she strained against her shackles, spotting the bed sheets with the sweat and blood of her struggles.

He pinned her to the bed with his body weight and kissed and bit lewdly at her neck. He was safe for the moment, and he knew it. Flaunted it. If I shot him now, the bullet could do as much harm to Maria as his knife.

In the time that I've known this woman, we've played a few games. Cops and robbers was an obvious favorite. But those restraints were padded, and the most lethal object involved in a night of fun was a gently handled leather flail. Sometime, our evenings started out with me “resisting arrest” and then having to work my way out of mt bindings so I could overpower her and fuck her.

This was different. There was no safe word.

I felt cold sweat start to form on the back of my hand. Would he make a move, a mistake, create a split-second window of opportunity where I might be able to shoot him without having her die as a result? At this point, I wasn't worrying about the consequences. My brother would probably die very soon. It was just a question of whether Maria would too.

* * * * * * * * * *

We're identical twins. As children, we spent all our time together. We shared a room, and wouldn't have had it any other way. We were close, and as some twins report they do, we could sense each other's feelings about things, almost read each other's minds.

The problems between us started when we were teenagers. We were noticing girls, whispering to each other about them, sharing fantasies and secrets when we actually got to do something with one. I even let him pretend to be me to cop a feel from my one girlfriend in high school, since he had never touched a girl's boobs. That was stupid. He managed to get her bra unfastened and to touch her bare nipples. I never got that far with her.

When you share a room with someone, a soul you've known on some level since before your birth, you're living with a person who is inside your head. We knew when our horny talk would lead to some hand time under the covers when we turned our lights out.

One night, just as I was discretely trying to cum into the tissues I had smuggled into my bed, Randy said, “I want to see it.”

“What?”

“I want to see it,” he repeated.

“See what?”

He chuckled. “I know what you're doing over there. After those videos we watched tonight, I was gonna do the same thing.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I lied.

“Bro, this is me you're talking to. Stop bullshitting. You were jerking off. Admit it.”

“Okay, yeah, I was. So what? It's not like I haven't heard you doing it.”

“I'm sure you have. I was gonna wait tonight until you fell asleep, but you were pretty loud. So, I want to see it,” he repeated.

“You keep saying that. What? You want to see my dick?”

“Yeah,” Randy said, turning on the light on the nightstand between our beds. “I want to see what it looks like when you cum.”

“It probably looks like yours,” I said. “Haven't you ever watched yourself do it?”

“Sure, but I don't think it will be the same. Please, Ronnie.”

It seemed like a strange request. We were supposed to be looking at girls, weren't we?

“Ronnie? Please? I really want to see it,” he persisted.

“I don't know. That seems a little weird,” I said.

“Why? Because we're two guys?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. That's gay, isn't it?”

“I don't know,” Randy said. “I'm not sure it counts since we're brothers.”

“That makes it even kinda weirder, doesn't it? Isn't that like, incest, or something?” I asked.

“Look at it this way,” my twin rationalized. “It's not gay if you watch yourself jerk off, is it?”

“No.”

“And it's not incest if you make yourself cum, right?”

“I sure as hell hope not,” I smirked.

“You and I are the closest form of relative a person can have. We're identical twins. Almost like clones of each other. We grew from the same egg and sperm. You are me, and I'm you. It would be like watching yourself jerk off in front of the mirror. I bet you've done that, haven't you?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, I have.”

“I have too. Now I want to see it without a mirror. C'mon, bro. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone.”

Even though I knew Randy's logic was completely wrong, it made some kind of sense. Plus, I had been close enough that I would have a bad case of blue balls in the morning if I stopped now. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don't know.... Just sit on the edge of your bed and whip it out.”

I decided I could do that. I had been thinking about hot, curvy, blond Chelsea, the girl that sat next to me in Calculus, before my brother interrupted me. I had caught her playing with herself in class, and that night, we did it to each other when we “studied” together at her place. In bed, I had been pretending it was her hand masturbating me instead of my own. She said she liked watching me cum. Was this so different?

Looking back on that night, I know that it was very much different. I sat there on the edge of my mattress, my hard-on poking out though my boxer shorts, looking across the small gap between our beds at my mirror image, with an erection exactly like mine. Our twin instincts made us match our rhythm perfectly, his left hand on his cock synchronized with my right hand on mine. Randy had said it, and he was correct. It sort of looked like rubbing one out at the bathroom sink.

Except, there was no sink, and no mirror mounted over it. My brother was watching me fuck my fist, and I watched him do the same thing. Being teenagers, it didn't take us long at all to be ready. It was weird, watching my mirror image cum into his hand, as I shot my load into my tissues.

“Whew,” Randy said after a while. “Thanks.”

“Uh, you're welcome, I guess.”

“Oh, get serious. You came like a damn geyser. I saw you. I watched you watching me,” my twin said. “And it was cool. You liked it. Admit it.”

“I guess it was kinda cool,” I mumbled.

“You came a lot, didn't you?”

“I don't know. It felt good.”

“Look at all this,” he said, showing me the puddle of semen that threatened to overflow his hand. “Did you ever wonder what a chick tastes when she gives a guy head?”

“Uh,... not really. I haven't thought about it much. I don't know what it feels like to get a blowjob, so I never wondered what she tastes. I don't even know what pussy tastes like, except for licking my fingers a couple of times after a date.”

“Remember Tami? That girl we met at the beach last summer?” Randy asked.

“Yeah. I also remember you disappeared with her and wouldn't tell me where you went.”

“Where we went was back to her room, which you should have guessed. It's what we did.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“We had oral sex. I licked her pussy and she sucked my dick She even let me cum in her mouth!”

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Twins' truth, Ronnie. I can't lie to you. You know that. Anyway, after I blew it in her mouth, she came up and kissed me.”

“Without, like, brushing her teeth or drinking something?” I said.

“Yeah. It tasted funny at first, but then I thought, 'Why not? I expected her to taste it, didn't I?' When I thought of it that way, it got kinda hot.”

“Really?” I said. I wasn't sure I liked the idea.

“It didn't taste bad, bro, honestly. Tami said she loved the taste of cum and the way it felt in her mouth. I was curious, so the next time I jerked off, I tried it.”

“Tried it?”

“Yeah. Like this.” He raised his hand to his mouth and licked up the semen pooled there. He showed it to me on his tongue, and then swallowed.

“Ewww,” I said.

“It's not bad. It really doesn't taste like all that much, kinda salty and thick, like mucus.”

“Nice comparison.”

“Honest, it's fine,” Randy said. “I dare you to try it.”

“What? No! That's disgusting.”

“Don't I remember you saying that about green olives a few years ago? You, the guy who has to have sliced green olives on all his sandwiches now? The one that makes Mom buy one of the big jars every week?” my brother asked.

“That's different. Green olives are an acquired taste for some people. Yeah, when I first tried them, I hated them, but everyone kept saying how good they were, so I tried them again, and pretty soon I learned to like them,” I said.

“Same thing with cum, bro. You know how some of the chicks we see in videos call themselves cum-sluts, or beg the guy to shoot his load in their mouth? Look at their facial expressions sometime. Some of them seem to like the taste – at least, they keep it in their mouths for a long time before they swallow, don't they?

“Yeah, but they're getting paid to do that,” I argued.

“They're also getting paid to recite a few simple lines from a script, but most of them aren't even convincing with shit like, 'Oh, oh, you're so big, oh, oh, fuck me harder.' Right? And yet, some of them look like they like sucking cock and enjoy taking a cumshot from a guy. Don't you agree?”

“Okay, maybe. I guess so. You know that chick Chelsea, in calculus?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“She says she's done it.”

“What? Swallowed cum?” Randy grinned. “That little slut! Wait! When the hell did she say that?”

I chuckled. “I didn't tell you about this, but if I do, you gotta keep your mouth shut, especially around her and her friends.”

“We're both sitting here with our dicks out, bro. I can keep a secret,” he laughed.

Shifting my position so my now-limp cock dropped back inside my shorts, I said, “Okay, you know how I went to her house last week to study?”

“Uh huh.”

“We studied anatomy,” I laughed. “She let me finger-fuck her and she jerked me off, right onto her bedspread.”

“No way! How's she gonna explain that to her Mom?” Randy chuckled.

“I don't know. But listen! She said she might give me a blowjob some time, 'cuz she's done it before.”

“High five, bro!”

It was only after we smacked hands that I realized we used the hands we had jerked off with.

* * * * * * * * * *

About three weeks later, I finally got up the nerve to ask Chelsea out. We had a good time at the movies, and she kept her hand on my knee as I drove her home. She invited me in, and I sat on the living room couch with her. We started making out, and it was getting pretty good. Her nipples were hard in my hand inside her bra, and her fingers were playing with my cock inside my pants. “Remember what I said I might do some time?” she purred into my ear.

“What's that?”

“Suck this,” she said, fumbling with my zipper.

Suddenly, the hallway lights came on. “It's time for your date to leave, Chelsea,” her mother's voice called from the top of the stairs. “Now.”

“Okay, Mom,” Chelsea replied. “Dammit!” she whispered under her breath. I couldn't have agreed more.

When I got home, Randy was awake. I'm sure he could tell by my silence as I got undressed that I wasn't happy.

“How'd the date go?” he asked.

“It was great until her mother interrupted us,” I said.

“What did she interrupt?”

“Chelsea was getting ready to go down on me.”

“Bummer, bro! So she didn't?”

“No.”

“Aw, I'm sorry. Blowjobs are great!”

“You told me. Guess I'll just have to wait.”

He looked at the front of me, and saw wet spots where pre-cum had moistened my shorts. I was half hard. “You're horny as hell, aren't you?” Randy chuckled.

“What do you think?”

He gave me a taunting laugh. “I know what you're doing tonight before you go to sleep.”

“Probably.”

“There's no probably about it. C'mon, bro. You know you're gonna suffer if you don't.”

“My balls are sore already,” I said, flopping on my bed in just my boxers.

“When you go off tonight, it's gonna be like a fire hose, isn't it?”

“Probably,” I said. I began stroking myself through the fly opening in my underwear. In seconds, I was at full attention.

“Damn, you're hard, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my now-hard cock out in the open. We had done this several times by that point, so it was no surprise that my brother started playing with himself too, standing right next to my bed. His eyes were fixed on my cock, and, I have to admit, I watched him stroking himself, too. Then he did something I didn't expect. He grabbed the waistband of my boxers and started pulling them down.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting these out of the way,” he said, removing my shorts from my legs so that I was now sprawled on my bed, completely nude, jerking off. Then he removed his own underwear and sat on the edge of the mattress next to me, equally naked, stroking his own cock, identical to mine.

“She was gonna blow you, huh?”

“That's what she said,” I replied, still rubbing my hard, straining, leaking cock.

“Did she give you a handjob?”

“Inside my pants, yeah, but she didn't finish me,” I said, remembering the feel of her fingers on my confined manhood.

“Did it feel good?” Randy asked, jerking off purposefully.

“Yeah, considering the fact she couldn't really get to it.”

“Was she doing it overhand or underhand?”

“Huh?”

“Like this?” he asked, stroking himself for me with his shaft in his palm, fingers on top and thumb out, exactly as I was doing. “Or overhand, like this?” He turned his hand over so his fingertips ran along the underside and his thumb was in his pubic hair. On the out-stroke, he ran each individual finger sensuously over the wet head of his cock.

“Underhand, I guess. I don't know. I was busy playing with her tits,” I said.

“I think overhand feels better. More intense, brings me off faster,” Randy said, still jerking off but watching what I was doing with great interest.

“I always did it this way,” I said, indicating my cock poking out through my fist. “It works fine.”

“But this should feel better,” he said, pushing my hand away and wrapping his own hand, overhand-style, around me.

“Wait a minute, Randy,” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I feel sorry for you, bro. You need to get off. I'm just trying to help.”

It felt strange and very wrong to have him touch me. He knew what he was doing, which wasn't a big shock. His hand felt fabulous on my cock, working my pre-cum into a lather as he masturbated me. His one hand was rubbing me, and with his other hand, he was stroking himself.

“Doesn't that feel good?” Randy asked as he continued to move both his hands in the same rhythm.

“Yeah, I guess it feels better when someone else does it to you,” I moaned. I had given up on the debate about the wrongness of what he was doing to me. It felt too damn good, and I really needed to blow my wad.

“Too bad you couldn't have gotten a blowjob from her,” Randy murmured, watching my cock in his hand. “Blowjobs are awesome.”

“Yeah, I guess I'll have to take your word for it,” I groaned. I was working my way up to cumming, for only the second time in my life at the hands of another. This was so damn wrong, but it felt so damn good.

“You don't have to take my word for it,” Randy said, an evil glint in his eye.

“How's that?” I asked through the fog of my impending orgasm.

“I'll show you.” He leaned down and licked the head of my cock.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, pushing on his shoulder to move him away. “You can't blow me!”

“Why not? I bet you'd suck yourself off if you could. I know I would, but our dicks aren't THAT long and our backs don't bend that way. But I want to do this for you.” He shoved my hand away from his shoulder and knelt, leaning over me, to work on me some more.

I have to admit, he seemed to know what he was doing. At least, he knew where all the good spots were on me. Who would know better what feels good to a guy than another guy?

“Randy, you have to stop that,” I moaned.

“Why?” he asked, releasing my cock from his lips.

“I can't let you suck me off!”

“Why not? It's not like anyone's going to know. I told you before, this is more like self-stimulation than it is sexual contact with another, 'cuz we're the same person,” he said, just before taking my cock deep into his mouth again.

He bobbed up and down, sucking, licking; doing everything he knew to make me feel good. It was odd, seeing my identical twin brother making love to my cock, since it looked like ME giving a blowjob. It was odder still to see his own cock, so much like mine, standing erect between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto my bed. He looked damn near as turned on as I was.

Pretty soon, I knew it was inevitable. “I'm gonna cum if you don't stop that,” I gasped.

“I'm not going to stop. I want you to feel good, bro.”

There was nothing more I could do or say. I felt my load rising, building pressure, preparing for release. Involuntarily, my hands went to hold his head in place, and I began to spurt. He took it all, and when I was done, he pulled off, showed me my load in his mouth, and then swallowed.

“Damn, bro, you came a lot!” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, still reeling from the effects of my intense orgasm and the way in which it was achieved.

“You're not gonna leave me hanging, are you,” he asked, licking some spillage from my now softening shaft.

“Huh?”

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, pointing to his leaking, bouncing cock. “Just play with it a little. I'm so damn close.”

It seemed only fair, so I took his cock in my hand. He was right, of course. It felt just like mine. The same size and heft, but still, so much different. He moaned as I stroked him, and in just seconds, I felt him expand in my hand. I rubbed him some more, and warm goo shot out on my hand, wrist, and bedding.

Randy got some tissues and wiped his cum from me. He did what he could with the wet spot on my bed. “Now, you know what a blowjob feels like, bro,” he said.

I slept soundly that night. I thought guilt over what we had done would keep me awake, but the exhaustion of my orgasm overcame that. The next day, things were as they always had been between my brother and me. I didn't bring up the events of the night before, and neither did he.

A few evenings later, I was in bed, almost asleep. “You horny, Ronnie?” my brother whispered in the dark.

“Why?”

“I am. I can't stop thinking about what we did the other night,” Randy said.

I didn't say anything.

“Ronnie? Are we okay?”

“I just didn't think my first-ever blowjob would be from my brother.”

“I didn't think I'd be the one to give it to you, but you liked it, didn't you?”

I couldn't think of what to say.

“You came buckets,” he said. He sounded defensive.

“Yeah, I did. I don't know what a blowjob is supposed to feel like, but that was amazing,” I admitted.

“I kinda liked doing it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Randy said. “Remember when I said I would suck myself off if I could?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, that's what it felt like, kinda. And at the same time as I was getting you off, it got me really close myself. Well, you saw that!”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of how forcefully my brother's cock had erupted in my hand.

“I almost lost it when you came in my mouth, especially since your stuff tastes just like mine.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Kinda figured it would. We're identical, we eat pretty much the same stuff, so I expected it would taste the same. You still haven't tasted yourself, have you?”

“No.”

“I think you should.”

I realized I was hard. Hard enough that I had to jerk off to avoid blue balls. I sat up and put my feet on the floor, facing Randy. He was lying on his back, naked, dick in hand.

“I'll help you, if you help me,” he said.

Could I do it again? I sure wanted a hand on my cock. Somehow, his felt better than mine.

“Come over here,” my brother said, slowly stroking himself.

I pulled off my t-shirt and shorts. He moved over on his bed to make room for me. I thought we would just play with each other, but he gently pushed me onto his back, and took me into his mouth.

“Randy!” I gasped. His tongue felt so damn good.

“Yeah, bro?” he said, taking a break from wiping his tongue up and down my shaft.

“That feels so good!”

“Glad you like it. Would you help me?” He turned in the bed, so his swollen manhood was in easy reach.

I didn't even really think about it. I took him in my hand and started moving, the same way on his cock as I like to do on mine. Randy went back to work on me, bathing me with his tongue and giving little sucks and toothless nibbles to the head. I wanted to be in his mouth so badly.

My brother was giggling as he played with me. “You give a pretty good handjob, bro,” he said.

“I've had some practice on a cock pretty much like this one.”

“The one I'm licking? The one I'm gonna make cum in my mouth?”

“Yeah.”

“It's just like the one in your hand, isn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what it needs, don't you?” he asked, swirling his tongue around the ridge of my helmet.

I thought I knew what he meant. When he moved his hips closer to my face, I was sure.

“I don't know whether I can do that, Randy.”

“You didn't know whether you could eat green olives, either.”

“That's different.”

“How?” He took my cock deep into his mouth and held it there, working his tongue on it as well as he could.

It was a lot different. I knew it then, and I sure as hell know it now. But this was my brother, my closest relative in all the world. The one person on the planet who really understood me. Our parents were older, and they always seemed a little bewildered by the two of us. We did things they couldn't comprehend. This would be one of them. I guided him to my lips.

I learned a lot that night. Cum doesn't taste that bad. It wasn't as bad as green olives when I first tasted them, but I couldn't really say I liked it the second time Randy filled my mouth, either. I learned what I did and did not like when getting a blowjob, and we experimented with that. I learned that his hands felt good holding my ass cheeks as I shot onto his tongue, and his butt felt okay to me, too.

Things stayed pretty much the same between us for a few weeks. Breakfast with the parents, senior year classes, Mom's cooking, homework, and hanging out. We were best buddies in front of everyone, just as we always had been. We even double-dated two sisters a couple of times. They thought it was cool when we tag-teamed them in a make-out session in their parent's basement, but we couldn't get past third base with them.

At night, alone in our room, we talked. Sometimes we played games. Sometimes, we played. Randy didn't seem to mind that much those nights when I wanted to just give him a handjob, although he loved it when I blew him. He was willing to do whatever I wanted. Incest guilt kept getting in my way, along with a healthy dose of homophobia. I knew there would be hell to pay if anyone knew, but Randy didn't seem that worried.

Graduation night, we went to a party. Chelsea and I had dated off and on, although our relationship seemed to work better as friends with benefits. I drove, she rode shotgun, and Randy and his date, Heather, were in the back. On the way there, I glanced in the mirror when we drove under a bright streetlight. Just as I thought, they were trading hands.

The party was what I expected. A bunch of drunken high school graduates, a keg of beer, someone's parents out of town, a hot tub – you get the picture. Things got better when giggling Chelsea and Heather led us into an upstairs bedroom. That night was Randy's first time having conventional vaginal intercourse with a girl. Chelsea and I had made love several times by this point, and Heather had lost her virginity to her ex. Randy later told me that hearing Chelsea and me fucking right next to them, and feeling us make the mattress bounce got them together. They seemed to enjoy it immensely.

Since we had always done everything together, Randy and I had followed everyone's expectations, including our own, and applied to the same colleges. We had both gotten accepted to our top two choices, so of course we opted for the same school. We were going to live on campus and be roommates – that had been agreed upon for years. But now, we would be going as more than brothers. I worried about that.

One night, I had to speak up. We had turned out the light about a half hour earlier, but I knew he wasn't asleep. Neither of us had mentioned sex in a couple of days.

“What's it going to be like on campus, Randy?”

“Cool, I hope.”

“I mean, what we do.”

“College is a whole new world, bro. People are more accepting of alternative lifestyles.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, when we get to campus, I don't care who knows that I'm bi and like sucking my brother's dick. Isn't that what it means to you?”

“You're going to come out on campus?” I asked.

“Not come out. Coming out is for gays. I'm just in love with you, bro. If people find out, whatever.”

“I want to date women.”

“Okay.”

We were quiet for a while.

“You know Chelsea got accepted to where we're going, don't you? It was a late acceptance, but she's in if she wants to go,” I said.

“I guess you're all excited about that.”

“I like her. We don't love each other or anything, but we have fun and she's cool with that. It'll be nice to have someone if I can't hook up on campus.”

“Duh! Hello! I'll be there for you,” Randy said. “You know that. I'll be there for you in every way I can. And I do love you.”

“I know you do.” I had never had trouble expressing my feelings to Randy before, but I sure was now. His expression of love sounded a lot different from his smart-ass “I love ya, bro,” talk of only a few months ago, and I wasn't comfortable with that.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a couple of weeks before we were supposed to leave for college. My phone rang. It was Chelsea. I could hear her wailing when I hit the green button.

“You son of a bitch!” she screamed into my ear.

“What?”

“You are SO damn lucky I haven't called the cops. I'm still not sure I won't.”

“Babe, what are you talking about?”

“I need to know where you were last night.”

“Here, in my room. I told you I didn't feel well.”

“Where was Randy?”

“I don't know. He went out.”

“You rotten son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you talking about? What's wrong?”

“You or someone who let me think it was you, came over here and tapped on my window last night. I let you, or him, in, and proceeded to get fucked, and not very nicely. We've fucked hard before, but never rough, and this was pretty damn rough. It was the way he sounded when he came and the way he threw me around. I finally got away from him and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and he said he was Randy but that YOU had told him to come over and fuck the shit out of me. So, you're a no-good, rotten son of a bitch, and we are through! You will never see me again!”

“Chelsea, wait!”

“What?” she spat. “This had better be good.”

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Are you saying Randy came over there and made love to you and pretended to be me?”

“NO! I'm saying that either you came over here, roughed me up and damn near raped me, or he did, and if it was him, you put him up to it. Either way, I'm all ripped up and bruised, and you're damn lucky I don't have both of you arrested, you son of a bitch!” She hung up on me.

I kept trying to call her back, but finally got the message that her phone was blocking my number. Randy walked into the room a short time later.

“Motherfucker!” I growled, throwing him against the wall. “Chelsea called. What the hell did you do?”

“Chill, bro, chill,” he said, dusting himself off. “It was necessary.”

“Necessary? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You were getting too close. You were spending an awful lot of time with her.”

“Yeah? So what's that to you? And what does that have to do with raping her?”

“Bro, I didn't rape her, okay? She wanted it, 'cuz I told her I was you. I told her you felt better and needed some dirty love. I wasn't the one who took her clothes off. She did that. She took most of mine off, too. So no, it wasn't rape. I just got kind of rough with her.”

“You hurt her!”

“Too bad.”

“Too bad? Too fucking bad?” I shouted. I was trying to convince myself not to punch him. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“'Cuz I'm pissed at her! She's no good for you! She's no good for us! Don't you see that?”

“Randy, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying that I love you, Ronnie! She was coming between us! I was jealous, all right? Are you happy now? You got me to say it,” he blubbered.

I really wanted to hit him then. He had no right to do what he did to her. I felt something for Chelsea, I'll admit. She was a “friend with benefits.” The emphasis was at least as much on the friend part, and I was glad we would see each other on campus, away from meddling parents. I had thought about trying to be more than just fuck-buddies. Now, my crazy brother had ruined that.

But I couldn't hit him. He looked so pitiful, tears streaming down his face. My face. I couldn't take it anymore.

“Randy, I'm going to sleep at my buddy Jack's house tonight. I can't stay here with you. We'll talk in the morning.” I threw some stuff in a backpack and left him crying alone.

My phone woke me in the morning. It was my mother, frantic because my brother and I didn't come down for breakfast. Neither of our beds had been slept in.

I went home and checked our room. Everything was in place, except for the few things in my backpack. Randy's toothbrush was in the holder, and his phone was on his charger, but he wasn't there.

He came home three days later, at the end of his seventy-two hour involuntary psychiatric commitment. Randy had stolen some pills, a bottle of booze, and some razor blades and broke into an empty house to see what he could do with them. The cops found him. I slept in the family room until I left for college.

Chelsea contacted her second-choice college and was able to enroll there. I never saw her again. Randy went to community college and lived at home. My folks never did find out what sent him over the edge, or if they did, they carried that secret to their graves. They had him committed to the hospital a few more times, and then, he dropped out of sight. Finally, he rigged a crude gasoline and propane bomb to destroy the house he was living in. He sent messages to several people telling them what he was doing, but by the time anyone got to his place, the walls were falling in.

Firefighters found his badly charred remains in the ruins of the area where the fire appeared to have started, a shotgun near him and most of his head pulverized. His identity was never questioned, since his wallet was somewhat intact and his burned-out car was next to the house.. The Medical Examiner ruled it suicide by gunshot and arson, although he stated that the shotgun blast itself was obviously fatal, so he didn't understand the motivation for the fire. The family followed Randy's well-known wishes and had the few remains properly cremated, and the ashes scattered to the wind.

* * * * * * * * * *

That was years ago. A part of me was glad to have him out of my life. I had never questioned the “fact” that my brother was dead. I wouldn't have found out tonight if I hadn't forgotten my phone on Maria's coffee table. I used the key she gave me to let myself in so I wouldn't wake her up, since she had early duty in the morning. I had just found my phone in the dark when I heard something from upstairs. At first, I thought it was the TV, so I decided to go upstairs and see if she was still awake.

By the time I got to the top of the steps, I recognized his voice. He saw me come into her room. They both saw me pick up Maria's gun.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I'm starting to think about cumming in this bitch, Ronnie. You sure you want to be here to see that?” my brother taunted.

“I will kill you,” I said.

“Aw, that's no way to talk. It's not like you didn't drop a load or two in here yourself today, and I doubt she was cherry when you got to her.” Thrust.

Maria suddenly spat in the face of her rapist. “God forgive me, but I hate you, you sick fuck. If he doesn't kill you, the State will, and you'll deserve it.”

“Oh, she's a feisty one, isn't she, bro?” Thrust. “Talking shit like that when she knows I'm gonna kill her after I take care of business. The other women just cried.”

“Why, Randy? How many times have you done this?” I asked. I wondered if I could pull the trigger.

“You don't know why? Because I was afraid you might fall in love with them. I couldn't have taken that. We need to be together again. You and me, bro.” Thrust.

“That's not going to happen. I told you that when you got out of the hospital the first time. I told you we could never sleep in the same room again. I told you I would never be your lover.”

“I need a second chance with you, Ronnie. We're grown men now. The past is the past. I just want us to be together.” Thrust.

“How many times, Randy?” I shouted.

“Five,” Maria answered for him. “I remember those cases. Just shoot him. I'll take my chances.”

“You stupid bitch,” my evil twin laughed. “There are more, but you'll probably never find some of them. Well, YOU sure as fuck won't, Ms. Chief of Detectives Maria Rodriguez with the big tits and the tight cunt. You'll be as dead as they are.” Thrust.

“Stop, Randy. Stop! Stop right now. No one else has to die,” I pleaded.

“Sure they do. This cop cunt knows a little too much. She won't talk too well with her throat cut nice and deep from ear to ear, though, will she?” Thrust.

“I won't let you do it.”

“We've been through this. You can't stop me. She's dead whether you shoot me or not.”

“Put the fucking knife down and get off her. Last chance,” I said.

“Baby, shoot him and call 911,” Maria said.

“That would be a dumb thing to do, Ronnie. You really want to watch me cut this bitch's head half way off?” Thrust.

Maria said, “I've made my peace, baby. Shoot the motherfucker. Then call 911 and a priest.”

“Shut the fuck up, whore!” Randy growled. “Give a guy some quiet so he can bust a nut, will you?”

I know how my brother gets when he cums. I've tried to forget. Thought I had succeeded. There would be a second or two when he'll be so lost in himself, I might get lucky. Maria might get lucky.

“You may want to look away for a minute, bro. I'm about to wash her cervix.” Thrust.

“Shoot him!” Maria begged.

Randy's eyes were darting between mine and my finger on the trigger. Thrust. “I'm gonna spunk now,” he said. “Get ready, bitch.”

“I'll kill you, Randy, so help me God, I will.”

He was pushing deep now, hard, and fast. I saw the look in his eyes. He was ready.

“You don't have the stones to pull the trigger, bro.” He thrust and held it. His eyes went out of focus, and he held his breath.

In that split second, I saw the knife loosen in his hand. Maria had taught me how to shoot. My wrist was ready for the recoil.
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