Since I was 14, I’ve always been attracted to my older, adoptive brother. We’ll call him James. We adopted James when I was 2 and when I was 5 I remember

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Since I was 14, I’ve always been attracted to my older, adoptive brother. We’ll call him James. We adopted James when I was 2 and when I was 5 I remember how difficult it was for him to adjust living with us. He wasn’t used to our way of life yet and he was often very angry. The day my mother and father brought a 15 year old boy home, he was furious, always getting in trouble, and was never nice to anyone BUT me. From what I can remember and what my parents told me, James always had a soft spot for his new little sister. He’d play through my tea parties, he’d play the dragon while I was the princess – waiting to be rescued by my prince. (who my cousin Angelica played. Love you Angelica lol) But other than me, James didn’t like anyone and he had no problem with expressing his distaste for my parents and all of the family and family friends. Through middle school and high school, James had a lot of girlfriends and got into a lot of fights. The altercations often led to 3 hour long detentions on Saturdays or a suspension from school but if there was one thing for absolute sure, it was that James was an extremely intelligent kid. It wasn’t until James was leaving for the University of Columbia that James ever showed any affection toward my parents. He hugged them, thanked them for the extraordinary life and the chance to make something of it. To say they were beyond happy was an understatement, both my parents, who I have never seen cry in my entire life, had tears running down their faces as they exchanged ‘I love you’s’ with James, hugging him goodbye with his suitcase of clothes in his hand. Before he finally walked to his terminal, James turned to me handed me a necklace. James had this necklace since we adopted him. He never took it off and he always kept it hidden in his shirt. I was only 6 years old and hardly understood what the necklace meant to him. He told me he loved me very much and that he would be back to see me and our mom and dad as much as he could. This was also the first time he had ever called our parents mom and dad. Over the years, I got older, realized the crush I had on my adoptive brother, James graduated Columbia, started his own successful business of investing a lot of money into growing businesses but James would never bring a girlfriend home. Ever. And when my mother would ask him about it when I was 18, he’d say he had no time for casual dating, which would have made me feel really good if I hadn’t known that he was the biggest p****** ever. James was intelligent, kind, and had grown a lot since his younger, troubled self – but there was no mistaking that he has a very large body count. Having the crush on him that I did, it always made me furious and I often took it out on James as something completely different. Something like “you’re breaking their hearts, you jerk!” James is now 33 and I am 20 years old. It’s the Holidays and James has come home from Manhattan for Christmas. I also came home from my second year of college. When James walked through that front door, he took everybody by surprise. Nobody expected him for another week and I couldn’t contain the joy I felt to see my older brother. I was the first to greet him, running as fast as I could and hugging james as hard as I could. I hadn’t seen him for almost a year. Of course I’d call, but it was very rarely because I knew he was always busy. When he set be back down, he kissed me swiftly on the head and went to greet our family and a few friend we had over. That’s when she walked in… A tall, lengthy, willowy blonde. She looked like a super model and at first, I thought she might be. She’s was the complete opposite of me. While I had long, raven colored hair, a curvy body from my mothers Latina heritage, she had short blonde hair, was slim, and had an elegance to her. I was firey, but she was classic and cool. She immediately introduces herself as Shauna, but told me I could call her Sha and how excited she was to meet me. That James absolutely adored me and loved talking about his little sister. She complimented me on how beautiful I was and I did the same. But the conversation was very short before my mothers excitement to see a female with my brother took over and Shauna was taken away to meet everyone else. I stood by the door, unconsciously playing with the necklace around my neck and staring out into the courtyard of our home, filled with snow and now my brothers Bentley SUV. Fast forward through the day, where instead of hanging out downstairs with the rest of the crowd, I opted to stay in my room, feeling sad and hurt and working on a paper that I had nearly a month to write but couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing James and Shuana together. When dinner came around, I was finally pulled out of my room by Shuana herself and we all ate and laughed and had a good time. When we finished eating, I started to clean up the plates while everyone sipped causally on wine in the living room when my brother walked into the dining room and asked if I needed any help. Immediately, I have him the cold shoulder. He noticed instantly, asking me why I was upset and with that I blurted out “Are you going to break this girls heart too?” This was obviously a low blow to James because he blinked a couple of times before regaining his cool, but not slightly aggravated composure. He told me that it wasn’t like that for Shuana and they were more friends than anything. That he wanted to bring her home because he knew it would make mom happy. I ignored him the rest of the time we picked up the dining room. Deciding to clean the dishes myself, I was annoyed that James stood beside me with a towel and began to dry. He had tried talking to me, but was only met with silence. James eventually to frustrated (this was last night guys) and grabbed me by my face with his hand and asked me why I was being so disrespectful and before you think ‘wow, he sounds abusive grabbing her like that’ James would never hurt me and I knew that. He wanted me to look at him and I wouldn’t. It didn’t hurt, I promise. I obviously ripped away from his grip and he quickly grabbed me by my upper arms, he firmly told me to stop and to talk to him. He wanted to know why I was acting this way. And that’s when I did it….

I kissed my brother. As soon as it happened, he pulled away but his grip on my arm never faltered. He didn’t say anything and only stared at me for a minute. And when he finally said something, it was cut off by Shuana walking into the kitchen, asking if we needed any help. I accepted, telling her she could help him finish because I wasn’t feeling well and was going to lay down. Fast forward through the night, it was 3 A.M. and I was still awake, hating myself for what I did when I heard someone come through my door. I was in my bathroom just finishing a skin care routine and braiding my hair for bed when I walked out and saw my brother standing in my room. Gosh, guys, I could still remember what he looked like. I mean it was just last night but still… he’s such an attractive man. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, still tucked into his black slacks and neatly tailored at his shoes that probably cost more than my college tuition (which he paid for). He held a glass of brandy in his hand and the other hand was stuffed into his pocket. I didn’t say anything, just walked straight to my bed and slipped under the covers. He said my name, trying to get my attention but I kept ignoring him. He set down his glass on my nightstand and brushed the hair from my face. He said nothing but “You’re my little sister.” I started to cry and he grabbed me and held me in his lap while I did. I told him I was sorry and I’m would never do it again. He stayed silent, holding me. It wasn’t until I stopped crying that he wiped the tears from my face and kissed my cheek. And then he kissed my cheek again. And again. And this again but closer to my mouth, and then closer, and then my jaw, and then closer to my mouth again and then on my mouth. He kissed me on my mouth. He kissed me hard too. Very hard. He tasted like brandy and very very yummy. We didn’t sleep with eachother, but we did kiss for a long time and I did feel his erection inbetween my legs.

Now it’s the morning today, around 11:15, and I’m still in my room thinking about last night and all that happened.

New Confession

Wipe your asss before you sit on me you little shittt!

Mall santa claus FML

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I lost my virginity to my mother, but it was not like it was loving or e***** or passionate. It was not a loving thing. I was a late bloomer and knew nothing about my own body or s e x. It was just her and me. I was 14 and had recently experienced my first w********. I was confused by all that but afraid to ask her. She found it on the sheets and waa disgusted and derogatory about it. She accused me of whatever m a s tur bation was (i did not know) and got otk bare bottol spanked. I was made to wear diapers to bed so that i did not mess the sheets. This was in cloth diaper days, so guess what, as soft as they were i accidentally discovered how it felt to sleep on my stomach and grind my hips against the mattress. An important point is that my g e n i t a ls had not really developed as far as growing larger, so a cloth diaper easily contained me when aroused. She just kept getting angry and spanking me. Ended up forced to sleep in her bed because she was tired of washing diapers and did not trust me not to abuse ot degrade myself. So over time i began to attach to the brief glimpses of her dressing or u*********. What little i saw was fascinating. I could not risk grinding to get off sleeping in her bed. And the spankings were rough. Rarely bruised but extended and very painful, i usually ended up in tears. One day i was walking down the hall to the bathroom and passed her (“our”) bedroom door, it was half closed. I saw her standing in front of a full length mirror, only in panyhose, her back was to me at an angle but i saw her reflected in the mirror. Bare breasted modest breasts, very large prominent n******, broad hips, classically shaped bottom. I stood there frozen and gawking as her hand was fondling her breasts and one of her hands slid down into her pantyhose and was moving. I felt something i could not describe and instinct had me opening my pants and touching myself. Not stroking just fondling myself. No surprise she notices me and gets angry, storms over to me, snatches me into her room, angtily calling me dirty filthy etc. Tells me it was not fair that she had to go without because of being a single mother and she wasnt going to go without any more because of me. Said i was hopeless and an abomination and she was sick and tired of having to watch over me when i would nevrr change. Told me to stand there and watch like a dirty sicko if i wanted to watch so bad and could not control myself. So i stood there afraid to touch myself with her right there in front of me and i watched confused as my mother resumed pleasing her body as if i were not there. I went back and forth between directly watching her and watching her reflection. She only noticed me again when she had caught her breath and saw i was fondling myself still, and she mocked me and called me pathetic for being whatever a dirty little j******* was and not being able to even do that right. She screamed at me to get out and i ran crying. She only ever mentioned it by telling me i was going back to my bed and still sleeping in diapers. I ground myself to climax over and over night after night and she ended up making me do all my laundry. Things changed after that. She fed and clothed me but i only existed after that. She pretended i did not exist and began no longer caring about closing doors or what she wore or did not wear. Told me i was going to be dirty and look so why should she not get to act as she wished and hidjng herself as a woman from my disgusting peeping. Over time it was not uncommon for me to walk by her open bedroom door and see her openly mas tur bating in many ways. Yes i always watched. Yes i always fondled myself. But i had not actually mas tur bated to o r g a sm yet. That came one day when i stood watching an extended period of her self pleasure as i was still fondling myself watching from her bedroom door. She got angry and called me pathetic that i couldnt even be good at abusing my body like a creep. She got a bath towel and laid it on the floor and made me stand on it and instructed me to take my p e n i s between my thumb and finger and directed me how to pleasure myself with my own hand. It was earth shattering as i had that o r g a sm and barely kept my feet. All she said was to make sure the towel was in the laundry. After that it was unspoken. If i saw her mastur bating, i got a towel to stand on when i watched. She would sometimee be naked or nearly so in the house and i would get a towel and do my thing and she paid veru little attention to me. It evolved to me even standing right by her bed and even kneeling on her bed watching closer. One day i forgot to get a towel and was kneeling beside her and came so fast it was on the sheets and across her stomach. She was very angry and i had to get a towel and clean her then change and wash her sheets too. We went through a period where i was pleasuring myself so much that i would watch but did not finish myself and would go to my room to finish. One day she found me touching myself and seemed genuinely worried that i was isolating myself and was degraded with the threat that i was never going to be a man. That hurt and angered me. There came a day when i was atypically bold and knelt between her legs watching very close and curiousity got the best of me. I reached out and touched the dark hair between her legs. She froze looking at me but did not say a word and i began to touch snd investigate more. She continues to fondle her breasts and even reached down and spread herself wide open. See that she asked me? That is what a real man wants not always jerking himself like a little boy. She even instructed me as i touched her. I assisted in her climax for the first time. After she even said it was a shame i did not have a real man’s body. She even tolerated me touching myself and squirtng on her belly and between her legs. This time she was gentle verbally. Asked me to get a towel and clean her up. The next time i did not act fearful. I got just as close and touched like i wanted. My world changed when she reached for me and pulled me onto her and had me rub against her. But she also mocked.me for how fast it happened and for not even being big enough or last long enough to get it inside. I was so hurt and angry. That night she woke when i climbed on her bed while she slept. I still remember how i hated her words. Look at you trying to be a man and take what you want. Just do what you are going to do with that dirty little thing and let me sleep. Not a word as i lay on her fumblimg for entry until she reached down and guided me into her. I was only just big eniugh to enter and get past the ring of muscle. It was unreal amd draining as i quickly climaxed inside her wet heat. Wben she told me to leave and go back to bed i knew i would be back. I was never allowed to stay the night in her bed but most nights i would walk in and she would just open her legs and tell me to do what i needed to do. I cannot imagine how many times this happened day after day. Silent resentful s** with grudging consent. All during high school. Frequently on the way to and from work when i got a job and moved out. Holidays. I would go over and she would be in the kitchen cooking and not even miss a beat. She would be wearing a dress and i would enter and stand behind her g**** her breasts and grind my hips against her and she would put her elbows on the counter, and i would grind against her spurting between her cheeks or thighs since even as an adult i am too small to enter from behind at all. Always told just do what you are going to do. All of it silent even as i cleaned her of my pathetic sin with a towel. Evem now when i pleasure myself i still see her looking at me with contempt, hear her telling me to just do what i need to do with that dirty little thing. I got therapy and finally broke free of my s***** addiction to her. But she is still the only one that i have had s** with and i am in my 40s now. I pay an e***** to hold me and be momny as i touch myself and she calls me her pathetic dirty little sicko and j*******.