“No, Jael” he screamed as he kept pointing at the results on his laptop. “You don’t understand. We’re half siblings”. I had never seen him this worked up over anything. Not that I had known Aaron all that long. Just six months. And a lifetime apparently.
We met on Tinder, like thousands of others do every day and night in the hustle and bustle of New York City. I liked his smile, I liked his cheesy profile jokes, and I liked that he was Jewish, like me. I always grew up thinking I’d meet a nice Jewish boy and have nice Jewish kids. And even though most of my Tinder escapades resulted in nothing more than disappointing drunken sex, I thought Aaron might be different. He felt oddly comforting, familiar even if unknown. Oh how little did I know!
We chatted for a bit, and then took our chances with COVID in a recovering city, and went out for a drink. I liked him. He liked me. We texted obsessively. For hours every day. And then we met up again. His place. He cooked dinner. We fucked.
Why quarantine separately and take chances, when we could quarantine together and be safer and well fucked? So I moved in with him. He worked from home, and my job was a few blocks from his apartment anyway. It was crazy, I know. But somehow Aaron felt safe. He gave me a sense of comfort that I couldn’t quite explain. Not until science answered the dilemma for me.
It was Christmas. He bought us 23 and me tests. Just for fun. It’s the cool thing these days. And if the cool kids are doing something, New York has to be part of it!
So we did the tests. And when the results came, Aaron came screaming in. We were half siblings. But how? My family came to New York from Connecticut; his family was true to New York, “never went further than Albany even by accident” he liked to proclaim!
It took a lot of phone calls, of questions, of research, but eventually, we figured it out. We both came from IVF. We both came from a lab in Queens. And we both came from the same doctor. No, literally. This man had pretended to use sperm samples from family fathers, anonymous donors, you name it, he pretended to use it. But, really, he used his own semen. Hundreds of times. He was arrested and convicted 3 years after our birth. We almost made it out safe. Almost. But 3 years too soon, and we had the same father.
We had never really thought too much of how our noses looked the same, or that freckle we both had in the same spot. Not until it all made sense. It all clicked. I had fucked my half brother. For months. We lived like man and wife. And we shared half our DNA.
I had nowhere to move. Nor did he. How would we explain this to anybody? In a pandemic of all times? How do you manage a fuck up like this? We didn’t really know. So we did nothing. He took the couch. I took the bed. Then we alternated. For a week.
Then one night, I heard a squeak. Then two. Then three. I knew. Aaron was masturbating. I could almost see him in my eyes. I kept listening. The couch squeaked harder. I even heard a moan. Oh why do men keep so quiet? Why don’t they chant their joy? I started reciprocating his motions. The creaking of the couch as my rhythm, I let two fingers inside myself. It didn’t take much. I was wet already. And unlike Aaron, I knew better than to sit in silence. I moaned. I did barely anything to stop him from hearing. It’s not like he hadn’t seen it all, heard it all. We couldn’t fuck again, but was there any shame to be had? So I fucked myself as he fucked himself. I think he heard. I heard him stop. I heard him gasp. Steps. He probably was done? Went to the bathroom to clean up?
No. He was at the door. Naked, with nothing but his phone’s flashlight to illuminate the night.
“Fuck what are you doing here?” I asked
“I heard you” he said
“I know you did. I heard you”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Well, I heard you. I thought it was hot. And I felt, you know, I felt horny. It’s been a week. So I went for it. I didn’t mean to bother you”
“You know you didn’t bother me Jael”, he said. “You could never bother me. You’re the sexiest most beautiful woman I ever met. How could your pleasure bother me? The opposite. It turns me on. And we can’t let that happen”
“I know, I know. But this is safe, right? We’re in different rooms. Nothing can happen. Is it even wrong?” I pointed out, maybe trying to convince myself even more than him
He sat there. He thought about it for a second. And then he took his cock in his other hand, leaned against the frame of the door and started stroking again. I could see his smile in the feeble light of the phone. I turned on the flashlight on mine. And let my fingers slide inside me again. I fucked myself as he did. Our rhythms now in unison. My body twitched. My back curled. He tensed up. He stroked harder. I could almost feel the tightness of his grip. I tensed my fingers inside myself, I wanted his hard cock.
He could hear my moans. I could hear his breath get more frantic. His smile replaced by a lustful expression of pleasure, of desire. I was but a mere moments away from pleasure. “Cum for me” I begged. And I pushed once more, and I came. And he came. His cock twitched, as my back arched, pushed my fingers deeper inside me. He came on the floor, thick white cream spurting off his cock as he grunted.
That cum used to be mine. I would swallow it. Let him cum on my tiny perky tits. Once, I let him cum inside me when I knew it would be safe. It was all so far, so scary, so uncomfortable now. And yet all so perfect. I knew his scent. I knew his taste. And he knew mine.
We said goodnight, and we went to clean up. We took turns. G-d knows what would have happened if we’d been in the bathroom together. Naked. Still the smell of pleasure all over our naked bodies. It’s a chance we couldn’t take.
He went back on the couch. I went back to sleep. I dreamed of him. I dreamed of him inside me. And even though I had never wanted babies before, I dreamed of the time he came inside me.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lm162h/mf_inc_mast_aaron_and_jael_part_i