I hope she doesn't tell

I graduated from high school a semester early, and spent my recently freed time loafing around my house, not working, drinking on weekends, and hosting "ditch" parties during the day. My mother, thinking that my older (responsible) brother could straighten me out, sent me to stay with him for a week at his school (I was to stay for a week and then ride home with him when he came home for break).


I was half excited about staying in a college town, but also, filled with dread at having to be subjected to my brother’s rule. He has always been too serious and goal oriented. For as long as I could remember my brother invested too much of his being worried about getting ahead, being the best, doing his best etc. So I stepped off the bus expecting the same Eagle Scout asshole, only to be met with a wooler and his fine girlfriend. We went to lunch, where it became obvious they weren’t getting on well, and then we dropped her off. My brother spent the next two hours or so giving me a tour of the town all the while he complained about his girlfriend (Laura). He loved her, he hated her, couldn’t break up with her, he wanted to sleep with other women. He had a wallet full of other women’s numbers.

My first night there I sat on the couch and watched TV while they fought in the bedroom. When their roommate finally came home he told he couldn’t stand to be there because all they did was fight. So we split and went to a party. When we got back at the crack of dawn there was a note left by Ozzie and Harriet, everything was O.K., they were sorry. The next day after Laura got out of school she told me that she was to entertain me while my brother was in class and at work. We ran around all day and I couldn’t believe that my brother could want anything other than this beautiful and fun woman. I definitely had a serious case of fatal infatuation. That night my brother taught me how to play all of the drinking games I would ever need to know, and then we went party hopping (already trashed). Around one in the morning they got into a fight, and of course, we had to go back to their apartment.

Once we were back in the apartment they fought for about 15 minutes and then Laura came out. She and I tore into the remainder of the booze while my brother snored like a horse in the bedroom, and their roommate came home and puked all over the hallway (then proceeded to lay in his own vomit, refusing to wake up). As we drank I didn’t spend my time thinking about how much I liked her, as I had before. My thoughts were honestly stuck on how cool the college scene was. When I was about done in, unable to walk, or speak intelligibly, I laid back on the couch preparing for the ensuing coma. She didn’t say anything she just laid right next to me. I loved the smell of her perfume, and I still do. We talked like that for about 45 minutes, then she sat up and looked at me, and we started kissing. One thing led to another and I performed like a high school boy. We fought our clothes off, and then within minutes of being inside of her, I ejaculated (where was this rumored "whiskey dick"?). We were dressed just in time for my brother to come out and start bitching at their roommate. I faked sleep, she staggered in to help clean up the mess. As drunk as I was, it took me hours to actually get to sleep. I felt shittier than I ever had, but I was also thrilled with the memory of what had just happened.

The next day we drove into the city, 3.9 of the 4 hours they fought. The whole trip was a miserable waste. I was wondering if she even remembered, or if it was just me. While I did feel appropriately shitty, I couldn’t have been happier at the same time. That night after they fought all the way home, they went right into the bedroom, and I laid down to get to sleep. I felt bad about nailing my bro’s girl, but I felt even worse because she acted like it never happened. Then she came out and threw a goodnight kiss on me that had me glowing the rest of the night. They left for school while I was faking sleep, (sneaking peeks at her as she walked through the living room). After a couple hours she came back with the same task of entertaining me. She got all kinds of serious and made me promise never to tell a soul. So naturally I thought that our fling was over, I was crushed and relieved, but she took me into their roommates room, and taught me what to do with a woman,in every way possible. We wore the sheets out the whole day. We had sex one more time after that day, and then she pulled the plug. We couldn’t ever do it again, her guilt was getting to her, and mine was killing me . We decided to end our tryst then and there. I just wondered how long after they broke up would I be able to slide in on the scene. What time limit is tacky in that situation?

I rode home with my brother, and the entirety of the time I thought of Laura. I had to fight my mouth because all I wanted to talk about was Laura. When we got home I avoided my brother because I felt so shitty all the way around. So about two nights before my brother is due to leave, he sat my mother down and told her that he had met a woman and they were serious. I was floored, panicked, and miserable. My brother left and I did my best over the next 5 years staying away from him and Laura. I was able to avoid their wedding, although my brother wanted me to be a one of the groomsmen.

No big deal. I have never told this story anywhere but here, right now. We live and we learn, and I am constantly reminded of my shitty act. But, that’s not even the hard part of the complete ordeal. I never would have slept with her if I would have even thought for a minute they were going to last. Now I have to see her all the time, since they have moved within two hours of me, both of us living about an hour from our mother’s house. It took me about a year to stop constantly thinking about that woman. My wife is better looking than she is. She’s smarter than she is, and we have a lot of fun. The problem is that every time we are all together Laura’s perfume drives me crazy, and I can’t help but to reflect on our tryst. My brother says things along the lines of Laura not being into freaky sex, and I can’t help but to feel a crushing jab, knowing that she is a total freak. I can’t look at Laura without thinking of being inside of her in every possible way. I catch her looking at me and I know she thinks of it as well. We have never even mentioned it to each other, even when we have been alone. I know I can take this story to the grave, and will, but I live in constant fear that she will one day tell my brother.


Anonymous

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