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Victory Girl
by Your Ghost (address withheld)

***

Wendy's brother returns from Afghanistan and she 
redefines what it means to support our troops. (MF, 
inc, 1st, rom, military)

***

I'd gotten up early, showered, shaved my legs, powdered 
and perfumed, did my hair and put on makeup, and now I 
stood in the doorway of my closet in just my panties, 
hands on hips, staring at all the blouses and t-shirts 
and pants and dresses I owned. A hundred articles of 
clothing, more than a thousand dollars worth, and I had 
absolutely nothing to wear. Nothing appropriate, 
anyway. Not for today.

Today Kevin was coming home, and I wanted to look my 
total best. He'd been gone for two years, most of that 
time spent overseas, in Afghanistan. He'd enlisted in 
the Army a week after the September 11th terrorist 
attacks (ironically, September 11th, 2001 happened to 
be his eighteenth birthday), and he'd been gone ever 
since. I cried at the airport as I told him goodbye, 
then cried all the way home even though Mom and Dad had 
done their best to reassure me that he would be safe. I 
was fourteen years old then.

We'd kept in touch by writing letters, mostly me 
writing to him and him answering when he could. He 
didn't have a whole lot of spare time, especially after 
he went to Afghanistan, but he did his best, and I 
usually got two or three letters a month.

They mostly said the same things: the country was 
beautiful in its own way, the local people were usually 
nice and friendly, his Army buddies were all a bunch of 
fun, crazy guys, and he liked being a soldier, he felt 
it gave his life an important meaning, especially when 
he could do things to help make people's lives better. 
He never wrote anything about the war itself; every 
once in a while he would refer to some mission that he 
was either getting ready for or had just returned from, 
but that was it. I knew, of course, that Kevin was in 
combat on a regular basis, risking his life fighting 
terrorists, but I was glad that he chose not to share 
any of that with me. It made things easier.

I was also glad for one other thing he wrote about in 
his letters: his feelings for me. He never failed to 
tell me how much he loved me and missed me, and even 
though he liked what he was doing, he couldn't wait to 
get back home and see me again. He said things like, "I 
miss you with all of my heart," and, "I think about you 
all the time." He called me "sweetheart" and 
"Beautiful," and said that he had proudly shown his 
buddies a picture of me. 

And once, according to a letter I'd gotten just two 
months before he came home, some guy named Dolf had 
said he'd like to "knock me down and then knock me up" 
and Kevin had said, "How about I knock you down 
instead?" and then punched him right in the mouth. 
"After that incident," Kevin wrote me, "everybody 
started referring to you as my girlfriend, and you know 
what, Wendy? I kind of like that.

Newbies are coming in all the time, and since I haven't 
once denied what the other guys have said, they all 
think you're my girlfriend, and I'm fine with that. I 
know that sounds messed up, but it's the truth. That's 
how I feel about you, sweetheart." I had written back 
to him that I didn't think it was messed up at all. In 
fact, I had sort of done the same thing; I had several 
friends that I knew on line and I'd told all of them 
that I had a boyfriend in the Army. So for the last few 
months that was pretty much how we'd been writing to 
each other, as if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, 
separated by the war. Longing to see each other again.

"Silly," I told myself as I finally settled on a pair 
of jeans and a pink tank-top, pulling them off their 
hangers and tossing them onto my bed. "Silly and 
romantic."

I closed the closet door and looked at myself in my 
full length mirror. I wasn't a raving beauty or 
anything, but I could admit that I was pretty. I had 
shoulder length blonde hair that, with enough work, 
usually did what I wanted it to, and a round, chipmunk 
face, a small nose and large brown eyes, and (thank 
God) good skin. I had a decent body too, slim and 
curvy, although if I had my way I'd be about ten pounds 
lighter. All in all, I supposed I wasn't too hard to 
look at. I hoped Kevin would think so too.

I put the jeans on, then inspected myself in the mirror 
again, checking the fit. They were a little snug, 
accentuating every curve and contour, but they didn't 
make me look fat anywhere. Next I put on my shoes and 
socks, then the tank-top. The tank-top was snug too; in 
fact, it was tight enough that anyone looking at me 
would immediately be able to tell that I wasn't wearing 
a bra. 

I had nice boobs, full and round and firm, not a bit of 
sag, but still, I wasn't sure if I should be walking 
around showing them off so much. A lady was supposed to 
be modest, according to my mom. And it wasn't exactly 
appropriate to be showing them off to Kevin like that. 
But then again, I told myself as I studied my boobs in 
the mirror, if I was totally honest I had to admit that 
Kevin was the one I wanted most to show them off to.

"More silliness," I said to my reflection. I put on the 
bra, rechecked my face and my hair, made sure 
everything was okay, then turned and left my bedroom, 
on my way to welcome my darling brother home from the 
war.

***

The trip north on Interstate 5 wasn't too bad, since it 
was a Sunday and there wasn't much traffic. Dad drove, 
Mom sat in the passenger seat, and I sat in back, all 
alone, reading a magazine. Dad had the radio tuned to a 
country music station, which made it nearly impossible 
for me to concentrate on my magazine, and finally after 
about twenty minutes I gave up. I sat back in my seat 
and let my mind wander, and of course it wandered right 
to Kevin.

I imagined what our reunion at the airport would be 
like: I would see him first as he came off the plane, 
wearing his Army dress uniform; I would scream in 
delight and run to him, at which point he would see me 
and get the biggest smile on his face he's ever had. He 
would hold his arms out wide and I would run into them. 
We would hug me fiercely, he would actually hug me too 
hard, squeezing all the air out of me as he kissed me, 
right on the mouth. Then he would swing me around in 
his arms, gently land me on my feet, then let go of me 
a little so he could get a good look at me. He would 
say, "Wendy, you're even more beautiful than I 
remember."

Or something like that. All very sweet and loving. Not 
too much different from how a brother would greet his 
sister. Was it? Of course, I knew the answer: it was 
way too romantic, too intimate. Kevin would never greet 
me that way, and even if he would, Mom and Dad would 
fall down dead from strokes. But how would I react? 
Would I really want Kevin to hug me and kiss me that 
way? Probably not, I told myself. In reality, I would 
have a stroke too. But for some reason, it was nice to 
think about.

As we got closer to the airport my mind drifted further 
into the fantasy. After saying that I was more 
beautiful than he remembered, Kevin would kiss me 
again, and slowly slide his hands up and down my back. 
I would feel his tongue against my lips and I would 
open my mouth, take it in, and gently suck on it. And 
Mom and Dad, instead of suddenly dying, would be 
standing there watching us and smiling, proud of how 
easy it was for their children to show their love for 
each other.

Kevin would french-kiss me and caress me for a minute, 
then reluctantly break the kiss and whisper in my ear, 
"I can't wait to get you alone," and I would smile 
shyly, knowing what he meant. Then he would embrace me 
again, hold me close to his strong hard body, and I 
would feel his erection pressing against me.

"That's enough of that," I told myself. I picked up my 
magazine and shut out the country music as I pretended 
to read.

***

We finally got to the airport and parked about a mile 
away from the terminal. The walk from our car to the 
gate where Kevin's plane would be landing seemed to 
take forever, even though I was walking kind of fast 
and Mom and Dad had to keep up with me. When we got to 
Gate 39 I immediately checked the arrivals and 
departures board and found out that his plane was 
scheduled to be on time. It was supposed to land at 
10:15. I checked my watch: 10:09.

"Only six more minutes," I told my parents, barely able 
to contain my glee. I actually bounced up and down on 
my toes.

Mom and Dad both just stared at me for a moment before 
they sat down in blue plastic chairs bolted to the 
floor. Mom patted the one next to her with her 
fingertips and said, "Sit down, dear."

"I can't," I said. "I'm too excited."

I started wandering around the waiting area, crossing 
and uncrossing my arms, or moving them up and down like 
big slow wings. I stopped doing that, though, when I 
accidentally hit a guy in the side of the head. He 
looked at me like I was a total asshole and I 
apologized, then he let his eyes rove down to my boobs 
and he half smiled and said, "That's okay, dear." The 
guy was my dad's age and obviously a perv, but I didn't 
care. I was too glad.

I wandered around for another few moments, dodging and 
weaving around all the other people waiting for their 
own loved ones or friends or whatever, then sat down 
next to my mom. She put her arm around me and leaned 
toward me, apparently to say something into my ear, but 
suddenly I heard a huge noise coming from outside and I 
looked and there was his plane. It was moving slowly 
toward the window, its round nose pointed straight at 
me, and it was so close I could see the pilot and co-
pilot in the cockpit. I jumped up, accidentally bumping 
Mom with my shoulder, and squealed.

"He's here!" I said way too loud. Once again I couldn't 
resist bouncing up and down on my toes, and suddenly 
there was perv-o-guy again, standing a little off to my 
left, staring at my bouncing boobs. I still didn't 
care, though.

Mom and Dad stood up too and we, along with a crush of 
other people, moved over to the door Kevin would be 
coming through. My heart was beating hard in my chest 
as I held each of my parents' hands, suddenly feeling 
silly now for the way I'd been acting. Sure, it was 
okay to be excited, but Kevin was my brother, not my 
boyfriend. Besides, I was sixteen years old, a woman 
practically, and it wouldn't do to have him see me 
acting like a kid. So I took a few deep breaths, calmed 
myself down, and waited as maturely as I could. I 
didn't even complain when my parents, without thinking, 
stepped in front of me, obviously wanting to be the 
first ones to greet him.

After about fifty million years, the door opened and 
the passengers started coming out. There were all sorts 
of them, men, women, kids, young and old, even several 
soldiers that someone might have mistaken for Kevin. 
None of them were Kevin, though, until nearly the very 
last person came out. That was him. And I didn't 
scream. I just stood there, my hands clasped together 
in front of me, as Mom and Dad stepped forward, both of 
them making excited greeting noises as they held their 
arms out to him. Mom went first, hugging him fiercely 
and kissing his cheek, then Dad, a more restrained, 
manly hug, no kiss, pats on the back. Once that was 
done my parents stepped to each side and gestured 
toward me and I heard Dad say, "You're sister's here, 
too," and suddenly it was my turn.

Oh my God, he was so handsome, with his blonde hair 
(now cut totally short), his bright blue eyes and his 
strong masculine features. He was wearing his dress 
uniform, just as I'd imagined, and while his smile 
probably wasn't the biggest one he'd ever had, he was 
still smiling pretty big, obviously happy to see me. I 
felt like running to him just like in my fantasy, but 
like a dork I just stood there, motionless, my heart 
pounding in my chest, my own dopey grin plastered to my 
face. I couldn't even say hi.

"There she is," Kevin said. He came to me in two 
strides, took me in his strong arms, and hugged me hard 
as he said something like, "Wendy, I'm so glad to see 
you, I've missed you so much."

At which point I did something totally unpredictable: I 
burst into tears. I pressed my face against his chest 
and held him lightly as I wept, not understanding what 
I was doing or why. Kevin, bless him, just shushed me 
and stroked my hair and softly told me, "You're 
alright, sweetie, you're alright now." I didn't cry for 
a long time, less than a minute, really, and when I was 
done I looked up at him, embarrassed by my 
unexplainable behavior. But Kevin just smiled down at 
me and even laughed a little.

"What do you say we get going?" Dad piped up. "It's 
going to be a long drive home."

"Just let me get my bag," Kevin said, letting me go 
almost as if he was reluctant to do so.

We all followed him to baggage claim, where it seemed 
like everyone in the world had gathered to collect 
their luggage. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to locate 
Kevin's bag; it was an Army duffel bag, and there were 
only five or six of those. The soldiers they belonged 
to were there as well, and one of them, a very pretty 
blonde girl with PFC stripes on her sleeve, gave Kevin 
a long appreciative look. I stared daggers at her until 
Kevin took me by the wrist and said, "Okay, let's get 
out of here."

He held my hand as we followed Mom and Dad on the 
impossibly long walk back to the car. When we got there 
Dad suggested that Kevin get up front with him and Mom 
could sit in the back with me, but Kevin put his arm 
around my waist and said, "No, that's okay. I wanna sit 
with my buddy."

I didn't really like being referred to as his buddy, 
but I smiled anyway because he had his arm around my 
waist. We got in the back seat and Mom and Dad got in 
the front and we made the long drive down Interstate 
Five with Kevin's arm over my shoulders. He talked most 
of the way, since Dad had said he wanted to hear 
everything about Kevin's time away. 

Most of what he said was similar to what he'd told me 
in his letters, about how the country was beautiful and 
the people were great and all that. Believe it or not, 
I was sort of bored, and even a little miffed with Dad 
for taking all of Kevin's attention.

When we got back to the house we ate a buffet lunch 
that Mom and I had prepared the night before, then came 
a long hour of sitting in the living room and talking. 
Again, Mom and Dad hogged my brother, but I got to sit 
next to him on the sofa and occasionally catch his eye 
and smile sweetly at him, or take one of his hands and 
give it a quick squeeze. And once I told him, "I'm just 
so glad you're home and safe," and I nearly started 
crying again. There was also at least two times when 
Dad told Kevin that he was proud of him for serving his 
country, which also got my eyes all watery.

I'd never been that much of a crybaby before.

Finally, Kevin said he wanted to go visit some friends 
of his, and he asked me if I wanted to come along.

"Sure," I said, forcing myself not to shout.

Kevin went upstairs to his old room to change out of 
his uniform. When he came back down he was wearing 
jeans and a blank olive green t-shirt that was totally 
tight on him. With his buzz cut and his bulging muscles 
he looked more like a Marine than an Army soldier, but 
I still thought he was the handsomest guy I'd ever seen 
in my whole life. 

I smiled when I saw him, and I knew that the way I was 
looking at him was closer to how I would look at a hunk 
I wasn't related to than my own brother, but I couldn't 
help it. Kevin didn't seem to mind, and even gave me a 
kind of flirty smile in return, which made me blush.

"Come on, kid," he said, "let's move out."

He headed out the front door and I followed obediently.

***

Once we were on our way I asked Kevin if he was going 
to visit some of his old high school friends.

"Nah," he said, watching the road through very cool 
looking aviator sunglasses, "I don't see any of them 
anymore. I got some buddies from my unit staying in 
town."

"Army buddies, huh?" I said. "Are they cute?"

Kevin shrugged and said, "You'll probably think so." He 
glanced over at me. "But listen, these guys may be good 
guys and all, but they're still guys, you know what I'm 
saying?"

"That they're not girls?" I answered with a big grin.

"No, silly. I mean, they're gonna take one look at you 
and forget every other girl they've ever known. They're 
gonna try to charm their way into your pants."

My heart skipped a beat at Kevin's bluntness. I also 
thought he was totally wrong; more likely, they'd take 
one look at me and run for their lives.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't do anything," Kevin went 
on. "That's totally up to you. But if you do decide to 
get involved with somebody, just make sure you pick the 
right one."

"And which one would be the right one?"

Kevin stared through the windshield silently for a 
while, apparently seriously considering my question. 
Finally, he shrugged again and said, "None of em." He 
paused again. "Nobody's good enough for you."

I smiled at his compliment, even though I knew that he 
was once again totally wrong.

***

Of course, things didn't go the way Kevin thought they 
would. His buddies, three of them, Sam, Greg and Mike, 
were all very cute (as I'd predicted), but while they 
were nice to me, they certainly didn't fall all over 
themselves to get to me. They checked me out, 
naturally, just like any guys would, but beyond that 
they treated me exactly the way they should have 
treated me: as Kevin's jailbait little sister (they 
weren't newbies). 

Normally, I would have been at least painfully 
disappointed by such a development (I was, after all, a 
sixteen year old girl in the presence of three very 
attractive and unrelated adult males), but actually I 
was as glad for the guys' polite indifference as Kevin 
was. As long as my brother was home, I wanted to be 
able to give him my full attention.

Not that he gave me much attention while he was with 
his friends. He didn't completely ignore me, but he 
came close; sitting with Sam and Greg and Mike on the 
sofa of the small apartment Greg rented, sipping beers 
(Kevin only had one the whole time we were there, 
because he was driving) and talking about girls and 
sports and the parties they'd most recently attended 
and girls and video games and girls. I was once again 
sort of bored, and unhappy that all the time I was 
spending with my brother was leaving me so unhappy.

The visit finally ended, with Kevin giving each of his 
buddies a manly hug and slap on the back, and me shyly 
waving goodbye before Kevin took my hand and led me out 
to the car.

The next stop, Kevin announced, was "some place 
downtown," where we could get something to eat. As we 
got underway Kevin asked me, "So, what did you think of 
my friends?"

"They were okay," I replied with a shrug of my 
shoulders.

"Just okay? You didn't think any of them were 
especially cute or anything?"

I couldn't help but smile.

"Well," I said. "They were all especially cute."

"But you wouldn't want to go out with any of them?"

I looked over at Kevin. He was trying to watch the road 
and me at the same time.

"Are you trying to fix me up?" I asked. For some 
reason, the idea made me mad.

Kevin glanced at me, and for a second his eyes met 
mine.

"Just want you to be happy, sweetheart," he said. He 
was silent for a few moments. "Sam's a great guy. I 
think you'd like him."

I knew he expected a reply, but instead I asked, "How 
come you guys never talk about the war?"

"We talk about the war."

"No, you talk about the country and the people, but you 
don't talk about the war. The fighting. You don't talk 
about what really happened over there."

He was silent again, but this time the silence went on 
and on. We didn't talk again until we got downtown.

***

Kevin found a place that served sandwiches and 
espressos and we sat at a table outside. It was sunny, 
with only a few clouds in the sky, and a soft cool 
breeze blowing in from the bay. I'd gotten a ham and 
cheese sandwich and a mocha, but then I didn't want the 
sandwich because I was afraid it would make me fat, so 
I gave it to Kevin (the mocha would make me fat too, 
but I was addicted). 

We started talking again, but just about me, how I was 
doing in school and all that. I did share one bit of 
gossip: I'd found out recently that my English Comp 
teacher, Ms. Washington, was a lesbian, and that she 
was having an affair with a senior girl named Diane. 
Kevin didn't seem to find this information even half as 
shocking as I did. He just smiled in kind of a sly way 
and asked, "Is she hot?"

"Who?" I asked. "Ms. Washington or Diane? Never mind, 
they're both these totally hot blondes." I rolled my 
eyes to show him how crazy I thought the whole thing 
was.

"Speaking of totally hot blondes," Kevin said, then 
deliberately looked me over. His eyes seemed to touch 
every single part of my body before settling, for a 
moment, on my boobs. By the time he'd brought them back 
up to meet mine I was not only blushing but telling 
myself I should have left my bra at home.

"I'm not totally hot," I said. "I'm not even lukewarm. 
I'm an ice cube."

Kevin laughed, reached across the table, and took my 
mocha, which I'd nearly finished. He drank the last of 
it, then set my cup on the table and looked at me with 
the same kind of cocky egotistical grin Tom Cruise had 
in Top Gun.

"That was my mocha," I said. I tried to sound hurt, but 
I sounded more like I was horny.

"Come on," Kevin said, suddenly standing up. "Let's go 
down to the waterfront."

He turned and started walking away, obviously expecting 
me to just follow him like a spineless nobody. Which I 
did.

***

I hadn't been to the waterfront in four years, and a 
lot of it had changed since then. There were a lot of 
new shops and restaurants, and a long wide cement 
walkway had been built right along the shore. It was 
called a "promenade," and Kevin and I walked along it 
hand in hand.

"I'm glad I finally got to be alone with you," he told 
me as the cool breeze washed over us.

"Really?" I said. "Why?"

I didn't say anything about the fantasy I'd had in the 
car and what "alone with me" meant.

Kevin gave me his typical and meaningless shrug and 
said, "I dunno. You know how everybody else is. 
Especially Mom and Dad. You can't say everything you 
wanna say in front of them."

"Like what?" I asked, although I thought I knew exactly 
what he meant.

"Like how much I love you and missed you. How important 
you are to me." Kevin looked at me, and his eyes went 
up and down my body. "How sexy you look in that tank-
top." Another Tom Cruise smile.

I smiled too, and looked out at the bay.

"Thank you," I said.

Kevin suddenly stopped and I stopped with him.

"Come here," he said, and pulled me against him. He 
kissed my cheek, then embraced me in a gentle but 
strong hug. I hugged him too and we stood there 
together for a while, just holding each other and 
moving our hands up and down each other's backs. The 
long awaited romantic moment. I could feel something 
against my belly, although I couldn't tell if it was 
hard or not. 

Eventually, Kevin relaxed his embrace and drew back to 
look down at me. He had a strange look in his eyes, 
like he wanted to tell me something but wasn't sure 
how. I think I may have had the same look in my own 
eyes, because his mouth curled into a small smile, then 
he leaned down and kissed me on the lips.

It was the best kiss I'd ever gotten in my whole life. 
Not that I had tons of experience in that area. I'd 
been on a few dates with boys and made out with them, 
but mostly those episodes had consisted of me fending 
off clumsy gropers and lousy french kissers, and having 
to spend countless minutes explaining to some begging 
boy why I wouldn't even give him a handjob, let alone 
anything else. 

I realized as Kevin's warm lips pressed against mine 
that I'd been harboring resentment toward those boys, 
but now, as the kiss with Kevin deepened, I realized 
that I didn't resent them anymore, I just felt sorry 
for them. They were, after all, just boys. Kevin was a 
man, and he knew how to talk to a girl, how to hold 
her, and how to kiss her. The fact that he was my 
brother suddenly seemed totally irrelevant.

Eventually, our kiss ended, our lips parting slowly and 
both of us drawing back enough to look deeply into each 
other's eyes. I felt a weakness in my knees, not to 
mention a growing warmth between my legs. I wanted to 
kiss him again, to let him put his tongue in my mouth, 
to let him touch me the way those boys had. To do 
things for him that I wouldn't do for them. I tried to 
communicate these feelings to him with my eyes, with my 
loving smile, and with the way I rested my hands on his 
waist, as if they were just pausing there before they 
moved further down to find his hardness.

Kevin touched my hair, then my cheek.

"I love you, Wendy," he said softly.

"I love you too," I replied.

It seemed to me that we both wanted to say more, but 
what could we say? We were brother and sister. We'd 
reached the outer boundaries of our relationship, maybe 
even stepped over the line a little bit. It was 
impossible to go any further.

I felt this huge sadness come over me and I had to look 
away. Kevin let me go and we both took a step back, as 
if even being near each other was wrong. Kevin turned 
his back to me, muttered something into the breeze, 
then turned around again. His eyes seemed angry and he 
was no longer smiling. I opened my mouth to apologize, 
but before I could say anything he said, "You know why 
I never talk about the war?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's ugly, Wendy. It's brutal and it's bloody 
and people die. I fucking hate it."

I was stunned by his sudden vehemence, the force of his 
anger, and I couldn't say anything at first. Kevin 
started pacing back and forth as he spoke.

"Nobody wants to hear about that, though," he said. 
"They want to hear all the happy shit, about how we 
save lives, rebuild neighborhoods, build roads and 
improve communities. Nobody wants to hear about the 
killing." He stopped pacing and looked at me. "And I 
can't blame them. It's monstrous. It's inhuman."

"But I thought you loved being a soldier," was all I 
could think to say.

"I do love it. I don't want to do anything else with my 
life. I'm a soldier, Wendy, and I'll never be anything 
else. But that doesn't mean I love the killing. I hate 
it, and I hate the fucking war. But see, it's the price 
I have to pay. It's the shit part of the job that I 
have to take along with the rest of it. It's my duty, 
and I'll do it, but not because I want to. Because I 
have to. It's a good cause, Wendy, not just in 
Afghanistan but in Iraq too. 

"Fuck all that political bullshit, we're doing the 
right thing. I honestly believe that. But God help me." 
His face transformed suddenly, twisting into a painful 
mask, and tears fell from his eyes. "I hate the 
killing, sweetheart. I hate the shooting and the bombs 
and what they do to people. I hate seeing my friends 
all blown into pieces and dying and crying and...."

Kevin began to openly cry, bringing his hand up to his 
eyes. I rushed to him, embraced him, pressed my face 
against his chest, and now I was crying too.

"I'm so sorry, Kevin," I said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't 
know."

We held each other there in the sun until our tears 
subsided. Eventually, Kevin spoke again. His voice was 
calmer, stronger, determined.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he told me.

"It's okay, my love," I said, not feeling wrong in the 
least for using those words.

"I just hate having to keep everything I think and feel 
locked up inside. Not being able to tell people....even 
when they ask. I don't want to live like that. Because 
it's not just about the war."

"What do you mean?"

Kevin didn't answer. Instead he just said, "Fuck it," 
let me go, and took my hand. "Come on." He started 
pulling me down the sidewalk and I almost had to run to 
keep up with him.

"Where are we going?" I asked, but again Kevin didn't 
answer.

We went to the car and he opened the passenger door for 
me. I got in and buckled up, wondering what was going 
on, afraid that he was blaming me for the mistake I'd 
made. He was embarrassed, and angry at me for luring 
him into something he ultimately didn't want. As soon 
as he opened his own door I said, "I'm sorry, Kevin," 
but he still didn't answer.

He drove out of the parking lot a little too fast, and 
sped down the highway, back toward our house. But 
before too long he took another turn, then another, and 
soon we were in the neighborhood where Greg's apartment 
was. Now I was really confused. What were we doing 
here?

In a moment we were parked and out of the car, and 
Kevin was leading me up to Greg's apartment. He knocked 
hard on the door, but then didn't wait for anybody to 
answer. He opened the door and went in, pulling me with 
him. Greg, Mike and Sam were huddled in front of the TV 
set, Sam and Mike holding joysticks while some digital 
battle raged on the screen. They all looked around when 
we came in. their eyes lighting on Kevin before taking 
me in.

"Hey," Kevin said as he pulled me through the small 
living room.

"Thought you two would be back," Greg said with a 
smile.

All three guys continued to watch us as Kevin led me 
into one of the two bedrooms.

"What's going on, Kevin?" I asked. "What's this about?"

A moment later Kevin had his arms around me. He kissed 
me, holding me tight and pressing his erection against 
my stomach, and I suddenly understood what he was 
doing. I felt a little overwhelmed, but at the same 
time I wanted nothing more than to surrender to him, to 
give him whatever he needed from me, my whole self, my 
heart and mind and soul. My body too. I wanted him to 
take me, to possess me completely, make me his. I 
didn't care that it was wrong, that it was incest.

I returned his feverish kisses, moaning lightly as his 
hands found my boobs and clutched them, running my 
hands through his hair. He started to pull my t-shirt 
up and I stuck my arms up in the air. The t-shirt came 
up over my head, then got tossed onto the floor. I 
answered that by taking his shirt off, revealing his 
smooth muscular torso. We ended up undressing each 
other kind of quickly, but carefully too; it wouldn't 
do to go home in ripped up clothes.

We got down to our underwear before falling onto the 
bed. Kevin was wearing olive drab boxers and I still 
had on my stupid pink bra, with matching pink french 
cut panties. I'd bought them from a Frederick's of 
Hollywood catalogue, never dreaming that my brother 
would be the first man to ever see them. Kevin's eyes 
narrowed and there was obvious yearning on his face as 
he examined them, and examined my body in them. I was 
glad, and relieved; I'd been worried that I might look 
ridiculous in them. Kevin practically ripped my 
underwear from my body, the bra first, then the 
panties. I was naked now, but I didn't feel any 
embarrassment or shame.

He nearly ripped off his own underwear too, and for the 
first time I saw his cock. It seemed impossibly long 
and hard and thick, easily the biggest cock I'd ever 
seen (I'd only seen a few: my dad's on a couple of 
accidental occasions (it was soft and just hanging 
there both times): the four boys I'd gone out with and 
had to turn down: a guy who flashed me once; and about 
ten seconds of a porno movie somebody was showing at a 
party). It stuck straight up in the air, like it was 
saluting me, and part of me wanted to laugh because it 
looked kind of silly, but another part of me was in 
awe. It was intimidating, scary, and so masculinely 
beautiful. I wanted to touch it, caress it, kiss it.

As much as he'd seemed frenzied and out of control 
before, Kevin was gentle now as he laid on top of me, 
as if he was afraid I would break. I opened my legs for 
him and he settled between them and took me in his 
arms. I felt his balls nestled against my pussy and his 
cock laying over my lower abdomen, snaking all the way 
up past my bellybutton. 

We kissed passionately for several long minutes, and as 
we kissed Kevin explored my body with his hands, 
touching me all over, sliding his fingers down my 
sides, over my butt, back up my sides and over my ribs, 
then finally over my boobs. He caressed and squeezed 
them lovingly as he pushed his tongue in and out of my 
mouth. At the same time he moved his hips, pushing 
himself against me, and I felt the base of his cock and 
his balls moving up and down over my pussy and my clit. 

I could feel him getting more and more excited, and it 
matched my own rising heat and desire. I tried to tell 
him with my ardent moans and gasps of pleasure, and my 
writhing body, just how much I loved him and wanted 
him, how much I needed him.

Kevin heard me, or at the very least couldn't control 
his own desire anymore, and he reached down between us 
and took hold of his cock. He started to move it into 
the right position but I reached down too and grabbed 
his wrist.

"Let me," I breathed.

Kevin let go and I wrapped my fingers around him. I'd 
never held a cock before and was surprised at how warm 
it was, and how it seemed both hard and soft at the 
same time. And how big it was. I thought, 'My God, 
maybe he will break me.' But if that was what was in 
store for me, then so be it. If there was going to be 
great pain, then let it be great. I would suffer 
anything for my darling brother, my hero, if only I 
could feel him inside me.

I held it as Kevin pushed it forward, until the tip of 
it touched my pussy lips. I took in a deep breath, held 
it, and hugged Kevin a little tighter with my other 
arm, and a moment later the head of his cock began to 
enter me. It pushed past the lips, stretching them 
until they hurt, then stretching me further inside, and 
further and further. 

The pain was like a pinprick at first, not really that 
bad, but then it became sharper and deeper as more and 
more of his cock slid into me. I had to let my breath 
out, then sucked it in again, held it again. I felt 
Kevin's cock nudge up against my cherry, then force its 
way through, breaking it, tearing it. I felt like he 
was stabbing me, and I couldn't keep from crying out a 
little.

Kevin just kept pushing into me, until his entire cock 
had made its way inside. It was more uncomfortable and 
invasive than I'd expected, but I kept calm by 
reminding myself that it wouldn't stay like this, that 
my body would get used to it soon.

Once he'd conquered me, Kevin paused and kissed my 
cheek.

"God, I love you," he breathed into my ear, then slowly 
began to pull his cock back out. That hurt too. He only 
went about halfway, then abruptly pushed himself all 
the way back in. He moved slowly, oh so gently, but as 
he continued to push in and out of me he began to pick 
up speed, fucking me, and the more he fucked me the 
more the pain receded.

'So this is what it's like', I thought as I held onto 
my brother and felt him moving inside me. 'This isn't 
so bad. In fact, it's kinda nice. It's good.'

Kevin held me and kissed me and fondled my boobs, even 
sucked my nipples as he took his pleasure with me, 
sliding his long hard cock deep into my pussy. I moved 
with him, writhed under his wonderful man's body, the 
pain within fading to nothingness, replaced with a 
rising tide of pleasure and satisfaction. My brother's 
cock thrust into me faster and faster, harder and 
harder, and a ripple of orgasm began to stir in my 
pussy, growing like a storm in my womb. I wondered what 
my parents would think of me right then, what they 
would think of us, brother and sister, making love. 
Fucking. Having incest.

Kevin had propped himself up on his elbows and was 
looking down at me, watching me as I became immersed in 
the first and most important sexual experience of my 
life. I was gasping and sighing, crying out softly each 
time he plunged into me. I wrapped my legs around his 
waist and rode his cock with near abandon, driving us 
both right to the edge of release. And just before that 
ultimate point, he lowered his head and whispered in my 
ear, "You are so beautiful, Wendy." 

That was it for me. I went spiraling over the edge, 
down into the warm well of orgasm. My entire body 
trembled and shuddered with wave after wave of 
brilliant, almost magical delight. I cried out again, 
this time kind of loudly, but I didn't care. I was 
coming, I was coming, and it was fabulous..

Kevin continued to fuck me and I held him close, kissed 
his face and his neck and his chest, lost in our 
lovemaking, until finally he reached his point of 
ecstasy. He buried his face in my hair, grunted in my 
ear, and I felt his cock throbbing within me and his 
come spilling into my pussy. 

It was only a few moments but it seemed to take a 
sweetly long time. Finally, he was finished, and he 
collapsed on top of me. We were both breathing hard, 
our hearts were pounding, and our bodies were covered 
with a light sheen of sweat. My body seemed to be 
humming with expended energy, and I knew Kevin felt the 
same way.

I cried, of course. I couldn't help it. I was no longer 
the same person I was before, I was a woman now, and 
not just any woman, I was Kevin's lover. I was 
shiningly new, no longer just a single entity. Kevin 
and I had joined our bodies and souls together, we'd 
consumed our shared love and forbidden passion for each 
other, and in the process we'd transfigured ourselves 
into one incredible sensual being.

***

Greg, Sam and Mike didn't say anything, they just 
smiled knowingly at us as we left. Maybe they were 
feeling as speechless as I felt, or maybe they knew 
that at that moment words, any words, would have been 
inadequate. It didn't really matter to me.

We got in the car and started on our way home. About 
halfway there Kevin asked me, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"Are you sure?"

He was doing that thing again, where he was trying to 
look at me and watch the road at the same time.

"Yes, Kevin, I'm sure." I touched his arm, then drew my 
hand away. "Even though you were kind of rough with 
me."

"I'm sorry, I guess I couldn't help myself."

I giggled and said, "I'm just teasing. You were 
wonderful, and being with you was everything I hoped it 
would be."

"You don't feel guilty at all?"

"No, not really. I'm glad we made love, Kevin. I don't 
care if people think it's wrong."

"Neither do I," Kevin said.

"I guess this makes me your Victory Girl."

"My what?"

"Your Victory Girl. During World War Two there were 
these women, they were, well, they were prostitutes, 
but they only went with service men. They called 
themselves Victory Girls. They offered aid and comfort 
to our fighting boys."

Kevin nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Okay," he said. "But I'm not giving you any money."

"Fine with me," I said. "I don't mind giving it away."

Kevin's smile got bigger, then it disappeared, and he 
said, "We should probably try to keep this whole thing 
a secret, though. You know, so nobody freaks out or 
anything."

"My lips are sealed." I pointed to my mouth. "At least, 
these lips up here are."

Kevin gave me a look.

"You're a naughty girl, Wendy."

"I'm naughty? You're the one that forced himself onto 
his defenseless baby sister."

"Defenseless, my ass. The Army could use you as their 
secret weapon. You could seduce the enemy into 
submission."

There was more simpleminded bantering, the two of us 
laughing and feeling so easy with each other, so happy. 
By the time we got home, whatever feelings of doubt or 
guilt we might have had were gone. And when we came 
through the door and greeted our parents, we had 
successfully donned our sibling masks again. They 
didn't suspect a thing.

***

Nor would they. For the next three weeks we were as 
careful as master spies, meeting at Greg's place, or at 
some other friend's house, or motel rooms. A few times 
we even did it in my bed after our parents had gone to 
sleep. We made love over and over again, passionately, 
tenderly, exhausting ourselves with each other. It was 
the most amazing time of my life, and it ended way too 
soon.

Kevin left in the first week of October, on his way to 
Iraq this time, to continue his hard and noble battle 
for freedom. I kissed him goodbye at the Fort Lewis 
airfield, and wept unashamedly as he boarded his C-130 
transport along with hundreds of other soldiers. I 
stood near the gate with my parents and watched until 
the plane was out of sight, then turned and, with my 
dad's arm around my shoulders, returned home to wait 
for the day he would come back again, safe and sound, 
to make love to me again.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 46