Broken Pieces

I was still on my knees between my brother's legs so I rose up slightly into a sort of squatting position. I spread my legs apart (brushing my knee against my brother's couch bed). My skirt hiked up onto my hips as I did so. I could smell my pussy as my legs came apart, the familiar scent of arousal. I bobbed my head faster on my brother's cock, feeling more excited now. While I was still sucking his dick, I moved my right hand down between my legs. I quickly found the soft, wet area right at the apex of my legs. My fingers sunk into the slick, wet fabric of my panties. I could feel my fingers pressing against me through the panties and I groaned into my brother's cock. I needed more.

I slipped my fingers into my panties and pulled them aside. My pussy was dripping wet and I shivered as the cold air in the room buffeted it. I took my fingers and slowly started to move them around on my slit. I did not slide them inside of my pussy; instead I just circled them around on my labia. Each touch of my finger sent a quick chill through my body. My mouth was watering more fiercely around my brother's cock. Soon, my fingers were dripping wet with my juices. I slid them up my dripping slit and found the hard, pink nub of my clitoris. I had consciously avoided touching it before, allowing my arousal to build while I sucked Andy's cock and fingered my slit. But now I needed it, I couldn't wait any longer.

I slipped my soaked finger against my clit and I made a chirping sound in my throat around Andy's cock. The sensation was so amazing. I rarely masturbate while I sucked a guy off, I wanted him to know that he had my full attention. But I needed it badly now. My fingers just barely alighted across my clit once again and I felt my thighs shake. It was difficult to balance on the balls of my feet, but my hand on Andy's cock kept me balance. I started to swirl my fingers around over my clit, letting the wet pads brush my hard nub gently. I could feel the tension rising in my body, the pleasure that only sexual contact provided.

For a few minutes, we stayed like that. Andy was sitting, frozen on his bed just soaking in the sensation. His cock slid in and out of my mouth and throat across my tongue as I bobbed my head up and down. Occasionally, I would bury Andy's cock all the way in my throat, gag, and let my throat muscles squeeze him tight. I kept my left hand on his shaft or gently massaging his heavy balls. While I sucked my brother's dick, I slipped my fingers across my wet clit, occasionally running my fingers across my slit to keep my fingers lubricated. My pussy leaked greatly, some of my juices dripping directly onto the floor, the rest sliding down my legs. Andy breathed deeply, making no other sounds, while I gave muffled groans around his dick. The slurping sound of my actions filled the room. Andy's cock tasted slicker and saltier with each movement of my neck. Finally, the room smelled of arousal, like my brother's cock and my own dripping pussy.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, I but I know what stopped it. While Andy kept his hands down by his sides, I could feel his muscles tensing. I watched as his hands clenched tightly on the edge of his the bed. Andy's eyes pinched tightly shut and I heard him groan loudly through his hand. His hips bucked wildly on the bed, but I kept his cock buried deep in my mouth. I moved my fingers faster on my clit, feeling the tension rise inside me as well, willing myself into oblivion. Finally, Andy let out a deep, shaking sigh and thrust his hips once more. I felt Andy's urethra swell against my tongue, I closed my eyes, knowing what was coming. A sudden surge of hot liquid splashed against my tongue. Bit globs of thick liquid splashed against my teeth and the roof of my mouth. My brother's cum was very thick and had a salty, earthy flavor. The smell of it filled my nose.

I think it was the feeling of the second spurt from Andy's cock that sent me over the edge. I felt hot, sticky jizz splash against the back of my throat, and I completely lost control. My fingers were still sliding all over my clitoris, moving faster than ever. As Andy's sperm slid down my throat, I felt all of the muscles in my body tighten, that familiar tension that come just before...And then it happened. A rolling wave of pleasure that began and my clitoris and then spread, like ripples on a pond, across every inch of my body. It rolled down my legs and across my toes. It rolled up my body, across my nipples, and back down my arm. But most of all, it rolled up my neck, through my jaw (which was now overflowing with my brother's surprising amount of sperm) and then to my brain. For a brief instant, all of the cares, insecurities, and worries that stalked me ceased to exist. I was just a woman who was doing what I was good at, fulfilling my only purpose in life. They were dissolved in a sea of pleasure. Only the feeling of absolute pleasure and the simple taste of cum stayed with me.

As my orgasm began to subsided, my legs stopped shaking. I pulled my head back from Andy's cock, letting it slip out of my mouth. My cheeks were bulging with sperm and I could feel more of it dripping off of my chin, down onto my tits. I swirled my tongue around in my mouth for a minute, enjoying the fruits of my labor. Then I swallowed it down. I savored every second of it, enjoying the way the big load of jizz felt as it slipped down my throat in a big ball and then splashed with an alcohol-like warmth into my stomach.

At that moment, I opened my eyes. I was still squatting between my brother's legs. His eyes had since opened, but his hand was still over his mouth. He was looking at me intently. I could not make out exactly what his face was trying to say. I know he was confused, but I had just given him an orgasm as well. There is nothing confusing about pleasure, it is just there. I licked my lower lip, sucking up some of the cum that had dripped down onto my chin and smiled at my brother.

"There you go, I hope that says what I can't" I said. Andy's eyes narrowed and he turned his head to the side. I saw his cock growing softer between his legs.

"Said something?" He asked in a faraway voice. But I couldn't answer. I guess in that exact moment, the last of the alcohol I'd drunk that night hit my blood stream. My vision went out. I blacked out.

* * * * *

10:15 a.m., my weekend alarm went off. I sat up in my bed like a shot as the horrible beeping sound occurred. I turned quickly and shut it off. My head ached and my stomach felt sour. I had that horrible taste in my mouth that could only come from drinking the previous night. I put my hand over my eyes and flopped back down on my bed.

"Fuck..." I croaked, "I am hung over!" I suddenly felt incredibly hot and threw the covers off of myself. I felt sticky with cold sweat and tried to recall how much I'd had to drink the night before. As I threw the covers off I was surprised to see that I was wearing a lacy black bra and a pair of black (sticky) panties. I'd worn those the previous day to work. I rarely wore anything to sleep and if I wore panties and a bra, I would wear something comfortable, not sexy.

"How did I end up here, dressed like this?" I croaked again. I very rarely drank to the point that I blacked out, but it happened on occasion. I knew that usually I would remember everything (whether I wanted to or not), if I just got up and started to get ready for the day. That would help with the hangover too. So I rolled myself out of bed and walked over to my dresser to get some clothes.

While I was getting my stuff ready, I struggled to remember what had happened the night before. I remembered going to work upset. I remembered getting a date with Rich. I remembered the date being terrible, but getting wrecked. I remembered inviting Rich back to the apartment.

I opened up the door to my bedroom quietly and walked out in the narrow hallway that separated the bedroom from the living room. I make a quick left and darted into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind me. I quickly peeled off my sticky panties and threw off my bra, still trying to remember what happened after I invited Rich back. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like Hell. And it went beyond the normal stuff, I mean my eyes were baggy and my hair was a mess. But it was more than that. I had a large bruise on the side of my face. Had I fallen over at some point? Maybe it was rough sex, I looked a little like I'd had sex and I could taste cum under the awful flavor of last night's alcohol. But clearly Rich wasn't here last night. Unless he snuck out early. But if he snuck in and out, he would have had to get past...Andy.

'"Well, I can't let you in..." because of my brother,' I heard the spoken, and unspoken, words from my conversation with Rich the night before. Suddenly the previous night's events came flooding back to me. Rich's slap, Andy's rescue, Andy telling me he loved me and...oh God! I remembered it now. I had...blown Andy! I had performed oral sex on a man who was (if unofficially) in my care. And that man was my brother. My headache grew to an unimaginable level and my nausea grew far worse.

I dropped to my knees on the bathroom floor, trying to stop my head from swimming. Tears were already forming in my eyes as I rolled over onto my back staring at the ceiling. I pulled my legs up into the fetal position and abandoned myself to self-loathing. I couldn't believe what I had done. All of the horrible, disgusting things I had done in my life, even the most depraved sexual acts I had performed to gain approval from older men paled in comparison. This was the kind of thing that animals didn't do, sleep with their brothers. I was below an animal. I was below anything I'd ever deemed to think of in my life. Prostitutes and crack heads would feel disgusted to be in the same room as me.

And then, even those thoughts faded. My mind was overwhelmed by a punishing, crushing blackness that had no rational end or facets. I just felt the weight of all of my self-loathing without context or content. It was just the hate I felt for myself. The only rational thought, which existed only for a moment before being swallowed up, was that I wished I was dead. I wished I was no longer menacing the world with my existence.

I don't know how long I felt that way. I know that I did not sleep or rest. I was in a constant state of agitation, but it was simply so deep and dark that it was hard to understand. Eventually, I began to realize that I was not going to simply collapse and die right there. My mind began to return to me. The darkness eased back slightly, only to be replaced with a sharp, aching regret that knew my sins all too well.

"Christ, you're a fucking pervert," I said out loud after a long while. It felt good to speak and better to vent some anger at myself. Images from the previous night filtered into my brain and I felt physical pain with each one. I saw visions of myself kissing the tip of my brother's penis, of burying his cock in my throat, of drinking down his cum, and of fingering myself to an orgasm. Each image was first accompanied by arousal, and then swiftly followed by disgust at what I had done and a deeper loathing that it still, when I was sober, elicited arousal.

"How did this happen?" I asked myself, putting my head in my hands. I had never had any sexual thoughts about my brother before. I had not lusted after him, even though I'd seen him while I was drunk before. Slowly, my motivations the previous night began to return to me. I'd been trying to tell him something. I'd been trying to...show him that I loved him.

A different feeling now stole over me. I was no longer consumed by revulsion, though that was still present. Instead, I felt intense embarrassment. How pathetic could I get? So insecure in my own emotional state that I had to blow my brother so he would know I cared for him. But would he even know that? Had I actually conveyed any other message beyond, "Roxie will fuck anyone in a vain attempt to make herself feel better." I mean Christ, I had probably scarred him for life. I suddenly realized that, while my internal hatred had taken precedence, there was another person involved in this. Andy.

I had used him the previous night. I know I had been trying to...communicate with him. But I hadn't really considered what was best for him. And now I was doing it again. I was on the bathroom floor, wallowing in my self-hatred, when Andy was out there. In my living room. Confused, maybe angry at me. Or maybe feeling something completely different. I had let him down.

It was then I realized that I truly was my parents' daughter. What had I done in the last 24-hours? First, I'd yelled at Andy and called him stupid because he wasn't just like me. He wasn't messy or disorganized, so I'd lashed out at him for it. I took my frustrations with my own life and put them on him. Sounded a lot like my mother. I felt bad about it, which I am not sure my mother ever did. But when I tried to make it better, I swung too far in the other direction. I had been unable to make an honest connection with Andy when I tried. I had been too uptight, too uncomfortable to see the world in any sort of nuanced emotion. I was only able to view the world through the prism of disgust and lust. So I ended up making some sort of bizarre, incestuous come on. Sounded a lot like my father. Although I guess I went farther than he ever had. Regardless, for the first time in my life I felt like I really understood my parents. I could see where their actions came from.

But, in understanding their actions, and understanding their motivations, I was finally able to fully grasp the full contours of their behavior. In understanding them, I was able to see that there was no justification for their actions. They'd royally fucked me up. I'd know that for a while. But it hadn't been about me. It had been about them. Their insecurities and frustrations. And I realized that my actions towards Andy were just as unjustified. I wasn't frustrated by Andy the day before when I'd called him stupid. I was frustrated by myself, with my inability to handle the stresses of adulthood. I hadn't been helping him when I...blew him. I was filling up some space inside of myself. And if I wanted to make things better, I needed to be better than my parents. I needed to make things right.

I stood up again and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy from crying and I looked haggard. I could almost smell my reflection's breath and my stomach was still sour. I needed to talk to Andy, but if I went out like this it would only make him scared for my sanity. I grabbed my toothbrush. I quickly brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower, I scrubbed myself thoroughly, washed my hair, and shaved my armpits and my pussy. When I stepped out of the shower, I felt a little bit better, like I was somewhat ready for a fresh start. I dried my hair and straightened it, put on my make-up (being careful to cover up my bruise), and got dressed. I wore the clothes I had picked out before I got in the shower: a pair of loose fitting Victoria's Secret sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt. I hadn't brought a bra or panties and I didn't want to wear the dirty ones, so I left them off.

Finally, I was completely ready for the day. My headache was still present and my stomach did not feel 100%, but I felt better. Physically. Emotionally, I was about as bad as ever. While I got ready for the day, I continued to beat myself up about Andy and about my life in general. Even as I was getting ready, I found myself becoming more and more nervous. I knew I was going to speak with Andy, but I didn't know what I was going to say. I didn't know what he would be like. As I finished getting ready, I began to grow crippled with fear. I didn't want to go out there. I didn't want to face the problems I had created.

"Mom and Dad never addressed the mess they made with you or any other part of their lives," I said to my nervous reflection in the mirror. I didn't really know where the words came from: they were just there, "And now they are dead. You can't hide from this. You either get to it now, or you run out of this apartment and never come back." I nodded to myself. I would have to face Andy eventually. I took a deep breath, turned, and opened the door. I jumped 15 feet in the air.

"Oh...I was just waiting for my turn..." Andy said. He was standing in the doorway, looking at the bathroom. His eyes were cast down, but he spoke evenly. He was still wearing his clothes from the previous night and the memories felt very close. I noticed that he looked handsome when he just woke up, but felt disgusted by that thought. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. "You were in there awhile."

"Oh uh..." I said flustered, "Yeah I am done." I said. I shuffled out the door and brushed past Andy. I felt him shake a little at my touch and my face got red.

"Thanks," he said, moving past me nervously. I had not expected to run into him that quickly. I didn't know what I expected. He seemed willing to just ignore what had happened the previous night. I could just ignore it too. It would be like it never happened. Just as he was about to close the door, I spoke, once again, with a voice that seemed to come from somewhere inside of me, unbidden.

"When you get out...can we talk about something," I said. I emphasized the final word and there was no question as to what I was referring. Andy looked back over his shoulder at me and nodded nervously. He closed the door.

The next twenty minutes were extremely trying while Andy showered and got ready for the day. I walked into the living room and saw that Andy had already made the bed. I sat down on the edge and then realized I was sitting right where Andy had been the previous night when I'd...given him a blowjob. I stood up quickly and walked over to the kitchen. I sat down on one of the stools that lined the breakfast bar and waited. I ignored thinking about the previous night, but the minutes dragged on forever.

Finally, the door to the bathroom opened. Andy stepped out. He had a large towel wrapped around his waist that fell all the way to his mid-calf. His broad chest was exposed and his hair was wet. I was mortified by how attractive I found him at that moment, and I shook my head, trying to keep it together. Andy saw me and shrugged his shoulders nervously.

"I need to get changed...I thought you'd be in your room. I will go back to the bathroom," he said, lifting up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I couldn't take anymore waiting.

"No," I said, a bit too forcefully, "It is fine. That towel...you are really covered. Just come sit on this bench so we can talk." And looked at his jeans but then dropped them onto the floor. He walked from the hallway over to the kitchen. In a moment, he sat down on the stool across from me. The towel was cinched on the side of his waist, so it split along one leg, but he was not particularly exposed. I felt better, we could talk like this.

Or could we? For nearly a minute my brother and I sat in silence in my kitchen. I stared down at the floor and I looked up at the ceiling. The tension was so thick I could nearly taste it and my mouth felt incredibly dry. I had never felt more awkward in my entire life. How do you start a conversation, 'hey brother, sorry I sucked your dick,'? It was absurd. And disgusting. But, I realized that I had asked him to talk, I needed to get started. So, after the longest minute of my life, I spoke.

"Did you sleep well..." I started. I don't know why, I just needed to talk. But what the hell Roxie? Get it together. "No, I mean..."

"Okay..." Andy said.

"What?"

"I slept okay," he explained. I waved my hand and then pinched the bridge of my nose. My heart was in my throat.