Addiction
Chapter Sixteen
The Crossroads
by:
Rufus Quentin
November, 1998
I’d woken up from a long night of fretting. I’d expected my period any day, but it hadn’t shown up yet, which had me beyond worried. For the past few days I’d been on edge. I found myself staring at, rather than working on my calculus midterm study guide, wondering for the first time in my life if it would show up at all. I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, too tired to care about anything yet. I pulled down my PJ bottoms and boxer shorts and sat down on the pot. I glanced down by chance, propping my chin on my paws with my elbows on my knees and noticed it. There it was, staining my boxers; that unsightly stuff. Some tufts of my poor white fur between my legs were stained red.  I immediately vented a deep, inexpressibly satisfying sigh of relief. I’d never been so happy to bleed out of my vaj before. My paws covered my face and my fingers massaged my sleepy, crusty eyes. Dodged one big fucking bullet, I thought to myself, as I sat there in complete and utter indecency, listening to the patter of urine in the toilet, the sad, realistic soundtrack of redemption.
It sunk in as I grew more conscious and moved on to less urgent morning rituals; that was a pregnancy scare I just survived. I, Alex Finley, had a pregnancy scare. Fuck, just a few weeks after first screwing too. After that I had a lot more sympathy for what we called the slutty girls, the ones who disappeared from school for months on end after ever so slightly plumping up around the waist, the ones my friends and I mocked at every possible instance. I kept telling myself I was better than them. I was smarter, more sensible, and more mature. Then for a few days I was potentially among them, scared.  For the first time since I was a pup, I even resorted to prayer. When my period finally came, it confirmed my perceived superiority. It empowered me. I thought I outsmarted my body, or at least had control over it. As soon as it began we were at it again and took even more risks. I let him finish in me perhaps more than I should have. That’s how it began; the cycle of fretting, prayers and promises, and luck. My period kept coming back like clockwork. 
Ultimately it wasn’t the risk that threatened to put an end to our relationship, it was the weather. An Indian summer allowed us to keep going through into the early days of November, but after Halloween we could no longer count on auspicious conditions to facilitate our play. Rain canceled our plans for a long painful week, and it got too cold to enjoy the naked chases through the changing leaves. We tried our best to express ourselves at home; a swift kiss here, an incited wrestling match on the living room sofa, then the more tender moments we felt alone in my room or his under the guise of doing homework. But whenever we thought we had a second or so of intimacy our ears perked to the sounds of creaking floorboards upstairs, or footsteps in some other corner of the house, and we instinctively bounced back into our chaste and innocent little poses, the mood terminated. After the scare and the increasing lack of privacy, I began to think I had an excuse to quit, to finally back out of this weird incestuous mess I’d gotten myself into. The secret was perhaps the biggest burden I’d ever had to carry. 
“Did you hear about Melissa?” Jennifer asked as we sat around our usual cafeteria table around the time the weather turned bad, peeling the last bits of flesh off a chicken bone that had once been part of a KFC meal meant for two.
“What’s new with her?” Asked Amanda, feigning indifference to a no doubt impending snippet of gossip from the notoriously connected bear. The only reason I tuned into the conversation was because I hadn’t seen the doe around in quite a bit. She’d grown on me quite a bit during the early days of the semester. Though my ears had perked, the majority of my attention was dedicated on just how I was going to consume the government issue, prison quality bologna sandwich issued to me by the lunch ladies. 
“She got laid. Finally lost the big V to that big buck from the football team, you know the guy? He’s sitting right over there,” Jennifer gestured at the six-pointer whose antler’s protruded above the multitude of ear-tips in the cafeteria. 
“Good for her,” said Bryn, who tried to put a quick cap on the conversation. Topics of a sexual matter never set well with her.
“When did it happen?” Asked Amanda, prolonging the awkwardness. 
“Must have been the night of Homecoming, or right after it. We did win, so Ray or Raleigh, or whatever his name is over there must have felt like celebrating.”
“How long have they been seeing each other?” Asked Heather, the mare who’d annexed herself to our group.
“Not too long. Since the beginning of the school year, late summer at most,” confirmed Jennifer.
“Not long at all,” said Amanda.
“Explains why she kinda disappeared,” said Heather.
“Don’t blame her for acting quick, I’d get on my back for that buck,” said Jennifer.
“You’d get on your back for every guy in here,” said Amanda, taking the words right out of my mouth.
“I’ll have you know I’ve only been with one guy, and I’m very picky,” the black bear said, casting aside the chicken bones and producing yet another drumstick from her coal-miner grade lunch box.
“That so? Who got your cherry?” Heather asked.
Bryn excused herself from the table.
“A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.” Jennifer smiled and took a voracious bite.
“Did it hurt?” Heather asked. 
“Shit yea,” the black bear mumbled, “bled like a stuck pig at first. But it was worth it in the end.”
“Must have done something wrong,” I said, giving up on my sandwich and pushing it to the middle of the table. 
“What?” Asked Heather. 
“You shouldn’t bleed at all,” I said, reaching for my chips.
“Yea it does, when you do it for the first time, the guy tears your hymen with his dick. It bleeds a little sometimes.”
“That’s a myth,” I said, crunching a chip and trying not to make eye contact. “It’s just a tiny little membrane. Very elastic actually. It’s a different situation for every girl. Some don’t have it at all. For most others it gets torn or reabsorbed by the body before they become sexually active. Those that do still have it by the time they first have sex can usually start out with a bit of foreplay or fingering to stretch it out. Even then it shouldn’t be a hindrance. It’s usually just a tiny little sliver anyway. If you bled, your guy was probably way to rough with you. Blood and pain usually mean stop. I figured, being a girl, you already know that.”
“Okay miss sex-ed,” said Heather.
“How would you know all this?” said Jennifer.
I shrugged and realized I’d given away a tad much info.  I couldn’t really say I read it in a playboy and had it confirmed by personal experience. This also wasn’t something covered by eighth grade sex-ed. “I didn’t sleep through bio,” I said.
“Who took yours?” Heather asked, looking at me.
“It was Riley right?” Said Jennifer.
“She dumped Riley years ago,” said Amanda. 
“Was it Gareth?”  Asked Amanda, “Don’t tell me you slept with Gareth?”
 “You’re not still a virgin, are you?” asked Jennifer.
I felt my ears redden with a blush. I’d foolishly stumbled into the impossible question for which no good answer existed.  I looked into my bag of chips and lost all appetite. I dreaded these kinds of conversations. I was a terrible liar. I certainly wasn’t going to give neither Riley nor Gareth any credit they didn’t deserve, but that left me with the other undesirable of claiming virginity. Recent memories of what Dustin and I had done swept through my mind, but that was a complete and utter black topic. “A girl don’t kiss and tell,” I said, quoting Jennifer and popped another chip. I tried to smirk and act my way out of my predicament. That silenced the black bear, but at a cost.
“She’s probably the only one of us to actually do it,” said Heather, taking a bite out of an apple. 
“Shut up,” said Amanda. 
“I’ve not, and neither have you,” said Heather, quite confidently. All other eyes focused on Jennifer, who’d for all practical purposes had been outed as a virgin herself. The bear in perhaps the wisest decision of the day chose to stay silent. 
I excused myself a moment later, stuffing the remainder of my bag of chips into my backpack. I couldn’t take the conversation any more. I should have just followed Bryn or better, kept my muzzle shut. I severely misplayed my cards. I had a choice of confessing to my virginity, which would have been a lie, or put out a rumor that I was at some point, perhaps recently, with somebody in the biblical sense. And of all things, I did that just to show up Jennifer, gossip girl number one. This could boomerang back, and if it did, there would be questions, unanswerable ones. Fuck, I thought to myself.  The high school KGB was on to me now. If they were successful in finding out just a tidbit of what was happening between my brother and I, well, life over.  
I walked home alone that day, past the spot I Iost my virginity and where everything started going awry. The trees were bare now. A cold breeze pierced my hoodie and made the steps on the wet mushy ground all the more unpleasant. In high school, as an adolescent with little to no life experience there is a lot to fear, and even more to fear for which there is no rational basis. Sorting one from the other is a lot to ask from someone as young as I was back then. I was afraid, afraid of being exposed, afraid of losing every shred of dignity I still had. I could lose everything, my friends, my family, every pillar of my support network I had because I was guilty of incest. With school on one side and home on the other, no piece of privacy was left. That meant discovery could be imminent. I was also afraid of getting pregnant. That most distant concern rocketed into my most imminent worries. Last, I feared losing Dustin. The panacea to my problems was simple; end it, but cutting Dustin and everything he meant to me out of my life felt like the most terrifying fear of them all.  
Of course that conversation didn’t happen. I postponed it until Thanksgiving decor was up. It rained for days. The valley was steeped in fog. It had become a typical West Virginia autumn, dreary, cool, and damp. Dustin and I were cooped up in the house, feeling like antsy children trapped indoors. The freedom of adulthood, or at least the illusion thereof, was gone. We were cubs again, dependant on father and older brother for any escape. Our awakened sexual desires and the craving to express our maturity made the captivity worse. The fact that our family would converge on the house for four days and rob us of what little privacy we had seemed unbearable.
Perhaps it was a consequence of all these misfortunes, the desperation that came when crushing and sexually active. I’d taken a shower on an afternoon. I was on the way back to my room, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Dustin stood in the hall. He had no reason to be there. I remember an event five years earlier. I was doing the same thing, hopping from bathroom to bedroom. Dustin was there, inexplicably standing precisely where he now stood. He was just a pup then, awkwardly adolescent. So was I. My breasts were barely in and felt out of place on my maturing body. He stared at me in my towel. I told him to fuck off, but he didn’t. He stared at me, much as he did now.
 
Gone were oversized paws, the pre-teen scrawniness, and the puppy like eyes. I stood across from an adult. He was attractive, taller than me, and carried himself with the cocky maturity no one could blame me for falling for. Instead of cursing him out, I unfurled the towel off my body, flashing my brother with breasts and bare body. I proved to him I had physically developed as much as he had. My fur was damp and matted, but clean. The floral fragrances were evidence of that. Dustin smiled and quietly chuckled as if in approval. I blushed as I always do when foreign eyes scan my secrets. He approached and kissed me on the muzzle. His paws swept through my drying fur along my naked flanks. It was stupid to show affection at home. Dad was in the house, as was Brandon. It had been a while since we’d gotten any. Maybe that’s why we decided to be bold.
 
Dustin followed me into my room. I closed the door behind him. My towel fell to the floor. His paws replaced the meager cover and caressed my total nudity down the chocolate colored fur of my back. Our muzzles reunited to prove affection that shouldn’t be practiced. My heart began to race as one by one my brother flipped the triggers he knew so well, the ones that would render me indifferent to our rule of no play at home. It worked, or perhaps he didn’t even need to try.
 
He guided me to the edge of my bed. My thighs spread for him, offering the object of his cravings. He broke the kiss and stared down at me, smiling in sick admiration. My paw landed between his ears. Some gruff instruction informed him of where I needed his nose. There was no time to indulge in each other’s perversions. If we were going to break the cardinal rule, we would have to be quick about it. At least that’s how I justified my eagerness.
 
Dustin lapped across my sex the instant he made contact. I doubt he even minded the dominant treatment. I shuddered out the air in my lungs and leaned back, cradling my brother’s head upon my intimates. The affirmative hold slowly eased to a rewarding caress, a scratch behind the ears, and loving pets smoothing out his mane. Meanwhile his tongue bathed my sensitive sliver in warm attention and parted its petals in order to expose its secrets, secrets to anyone else in the world but Dustin. He knew me practically as well as I knew myself and proved it with every pass.  Our ears stood ever alert to the sounds of the house. All we heard were the steady slick dashes of canine tongue over intimate flesh and irregular warm breaths exhaled through pubic fur.
 
We were probably luckier than we were vigilant. Every moment that passed made us bolder. It startled me when I heard Dustin unzip his jeans, but I settled immediately. He pulled out his sheath and began to tug on himself as he started to alternate between sucking on my clit and making out with my vaginal canal. As usual he read my reactions like an open book and predicted my needs before I could articulate them.
 
My brother pawed himself as his tongue worked its way into my body. Selfishly I wanted him to keep at it. He could have gotten me off in a moment, given how hard he was trying. I took pity on him and wordlessly invited him onto my bed. I needed to be more generous anyway. If he did paw himself off, well, semen stains on my carpet would be a hard thing to explain. The bed creaked as he climbed aboard. We paused momentarily as if our disturbance set off an alarm. When nothing in the house stirred we set off to continue.
 
Dustin lay lengthwise beside my body. His head rested near the foot of my bed while I reclined the opposite direction. I presented my open thighs for him, scooting close to his awaiting muzzle to let him know I felt eager for him to finish the job. Dustin tugged down his jeans and boxers, bunching them around his ankles. He parted his knees for me in invitation, the same way I was. I found myself with my brother’s manhood a muzzle’s length away. His white fuzzy balls dropped temptingly close. His dark pink, vein speckled canine cock hung stiff, wobbling as we micro-corrected ourselves comfortable. Dustin’s scents were as apparent as his form, subtle, familiar, and infinitely intriguing.
 
It didn’t take long to feel the collie’s muzzle back upon my womanhood. He wasted no time in lapping the arousal from my opening. I felt worked up enough for whatever aversions I had against sucking cock to be a mere memory. I took hold of my brother near the base of his arousal, aimed his point at my nose, and closed my muzzle around him. He hummed into my pussy while I cradled his length between my fangs. My tongue swept my siblings flavors off his shaft and brushed his pre from his up-curved tip. Soon I was rising and sinking, twisting my muzzle around the firm and potent example of rough collie maleness, curling and swirling my tongue around his pre-leaking glans.
 
There we lay, the two of us, brother and sister, fraternal twins, our muzzles bobbing and nuzzling between each other’s thighs for the sake of each other’s sexual pleasure. We bucked against each other’s faces to confirm how effective the efforts felt, or to silently beckon deeper, faster, and harder attempts. I felt close. Judging by the frequent huffs venting against my clitoris, Dustin probably had his within reach too. I kind of wanted to pull off. I wanted to lean back and spread my labia for Dustin in order to show him a more appropriate place to house his cock. It would have been risky, beyond daring to try it in my lock-less bedroom. I wanted it so bad.

It was probably a good thing then that we heard footsteps on the ground floor. We didn’t want them to be real at first, but they were. Our ears perked and our movements slowed, refusing to stop. When the creaking of floorboards transitioned to those of the stairs we panicked. We pulled off of each other’s sexes, looked at each other wide eyed and in trouble, as if the both of us were about to be caught playing with fire, but worse.
 
“Hide,” I whispered in a desperate imperative. Dustin looked around, as if my room really offered that many refuges.
 
“Dustin,” came out dad’s voice from the hall, just outside my door.
 
My brother looked at me and rolled onto the floor, crouching on the far side of my bed. He struggled to tug his jeans back up his legs. I was stuck stark naked.
 
A knock clopped on Dustin’s bedroom door. No answer would come. “Dustin,” my dad said, muffled through the wall. One could hear the door open, then a third time our father called for his youngest son. The steps came to my door. I preemptively left from bed and barricaded the door with my nude body. I could feel my father knocking on my door. It felt as if he’d touched me directly. “Alex,” he called.
 
“Hey dad. I’m not quite decent yet. I just got out of the shower. Can you give me a minute?”
 
“Sorry sport. I’m just looking for your brother. Have you seen him?”
 
My nose darted in the direction of my bed. Dustin’s head popped up on the far side. He shook it, his floppy ears wobbled cutely. A guilty expression strained his face.
 
“Not since this morning,” I lied, “Isn’t he in his room?”
 
“Just checked. Nope.”
 
“The garage?”
 
“Not there either.”
 
“No clue then,” I said, hoping to high heaven not to get caught in a lie.
 
“No problem. I just thought I saw him head up here a while ago. Sorry to bother you sport. If you see him, tell him he forgot to clear out the gutters. They’re clogged with leaves and I’m worried about water damage. That’s the last thing we need this season.”
 
“Will do,” I huffed.
 
“Oh, and do you mind fixing dinner,” our father continued. “I know I promised to do it tonight, but I need to head back to the company to wrap up some paperwork.”
 
“Sure,” I said.
 
“Thanks Alex, I owe you one,” he said. Departing footsteps down the hall and then the stairs told me we had been saved.
 
“Holy fucking shit!” I said and started to pant.

“Fucking hell,” Dustin said, climbing out from behind the bed. He pulled his pants back up, but his knotted chub made it impossible to zip up. “Too fucking close.”
 
“We shouldn’t have done this here,” I said, understandably pissed off. It’s a terrible feeling going from the verge of an orgasm, to fending off a parent.
 
“You started it,” Dustin said.
 
“I know,” I said. “Still dumb. We can’t do this here. Now get out in case he comes back.”
 
“Can’t I just finish ya off?” He asked.
 
“Fuck no. Mood’s dead.”
 
“Shit,” he said and staggered around my naked body. His paw was already on the doorknob when he turned to ask, “Can I at least paw while you get dressed?”
 
“Fuck no,” I repeated more sternly than before, grasping for authority, which is hard to do naked. My nudity burned. I longed myself back in clothes. Dustin just stood there, eyeing me.
 
He cast me a glare as if I were the one who almost barged in. “I’m just gonna go rub one out then,” he said. He held his pants up and waddled into the hall, to the bathroom with his penis leading the way. The door slammed shut behind him. I stood there alone and sighed, then began the search for a fresh pair of boxers. My brother’s taste lingered in my muzzle. The near agony of cooling nerves replaced the warmth of arousal. My body learned it would be denied the endorphin rush it expected.  I was pissed, pissed at my dad, my brother, and at myself.
 
I kind of felt glad that we were almost caught. I was tempted to make love the entire time. Though the term “making love” didn’t sit well, it was operative. Furthermore every time we had sex, the possibility existed that another accident could happen, or worse, that I would let it happen. Without protection we were a danger to ourselves, enablers and triggers of our little addiction. This had to stop. Cold turkey, while we still could, before the term “making love” was accurate in every capacity. At least now that I was angry, it would be easier to follow through.

I fixed and served dinner to the best of my ability, but I was too distracted for my own good. I cut myself while prepping vegetables. It was just a nick, nothing serious. I looked at my index finger, at the little spot of red expanding through my fur and thought of Dustin. I remembered tending to his injured paw, the outpouring of blood leading to the garage. I wasn’t usually squeamish, but I felt faint. We shared this blood, Dustin and I. It was the blood of our father, the blood of our brothers, the blood of our mother, wherever she was.  There were plenty of reasons family shouldn’t do what my twin and I did. The red I let cool water wash into the sink symbolized that. I would need to call things off. I was trembling. What we were doing wasn’t an indulgence anymore.

I’d fallen hard and fast. I fucked him before I was in love with him. Now I was afraid of loosing him if we got discovered, or I got pregnant, or to the impossibilities of incest or romantic ennui. Pushing him away had failed. I made a list of Dustin’s faults and composed a multi-point, logical argument why a relationship would never work. No matter how many times I tried, I kept finding myself naked next to him. For whatever fucked up magnetism attracted me to my biological brother, a separate but equal force told me to repel him. I was stuck in the limbo of my screwed up psychology, a case study worthy of academic journals. For the moment the forces were equal, but one seemed ever more futile, destined to fail. I had one more opportunity to break free and embrace the isolation I both feared and craved.

A day or so later in we sat down together in my room and had our first serious talk about how things would continue. He didn’t need me to help him pass anymore and he’d picked up enough good study habits from me that he could make it on his own if we tried. We ran the risk of getting discovered if we kept it up and tried it at home. We may also have avoided getting pregnant, but an honest introspection would have revealed the longer we kept up doing it without protection, the greater the risks. Worst of all we faced the real danger of falling in love. 

We chose our words carefully and avoided referencing the most obvious. Instead we concealed our emotions in practical statements and vague terminology. We spoke as if the past weeks, or had they turned into months already, never existed. Despite our history and our naivety, we fancied ourselves rational beings, responsible newly minted adults. Yet as we spoke, we both knew precisely where things were heading. I fought back tears as we agreed to quit while we were ahead. We talked about it as a reset. We just needed to dial back the clock a few months and go back to the way things were, or so we, mostly I, kept insisting. In the end we kissed a final time. All the emotions one could possibly feel after growing so close to another individual flared like roman candles. I watched Dustin leave my room and go back to his just down the hall. The things I felt pulsed through me, propelled as if by the beat of my heart. Like a fine particulate of illicit chemicals they protected me from facts of reality; that our rationally laid out intentions had yet to catch up with far more potent forces.
“Occupado,” I said in response to a sudden knock against the bathroom door, pressing my paw against the door lest someone attempt to barge in on me at my most vulnerable. It figures he should disturb me at our house’s perpetual crossroads, the place I needed privacy most, but could never seem to get it.
“Housekeeping,” came through the door in my brother’s voice in a vaguely Spanish accent. Another brisk knock followed.
“Busy,” I said, louder and sterner.
“Housekeeping,” said Dustin in the same timbre of voice, this time with the rattle on the doorknob.
“Can’t I get five fucking minutes? I’m on the fucking pot,” I said, banging back against the door in response.
“Housekeeping,” came one more, this time with a much more taunting tone. I heard the bastard chuckle on the other side.
I vented a frustrated sigh and went to work unlatching the bathroom door lock. While letting him in felt like but a small concession, when it came to Dustin, small concessions had a way of avalanching out of control. Somehow I knew, that in turning the deadbolt I was saying yes to that possibility. I predicted Dustin was in one of his persistent moods again and I could safely assume if I didn’t talk to him now, he would harass me later. Three days, I thought to myself as I watched Dustin walk in past me and push the door shut behind him, just three days and I’m going to do it again. Dustin turned the deadbolt closed behind him and leaned against the wall opposite me. 
“You really were on the pot,” he said, more or less deadpan.
“Uh, yea.  About that. Can’t a girl get a bit of privacy around here?” I said looking down at the pants and boxers around my ankles, closing my knees and crossing my arms over my pubic tufts, feeling the warmth of embarrassment come over me.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
The blush felt a little hotter all of a sudden, “What are you doing here? What if someone catches us here?” I said in a whisper, cautiously glancing at the door.
“Dad’s asleep on the couch downstairs and Brandon is on that game again. Figured it’s safe to catch up on you.”
“And you have to meet me in the only room in the house they would make a beeline toward?”
“Only room with a lock.”
“It’s too dangerous. Besides, I thought we weren’t going to do this anymore.”
I stood off of the toilet, suddenly unable to finish peeing. The thought that he might catch a glimpse of me increasingly became less embarrassing than being seen sitting there in a way I couldn’t even take myself seriously. I quickly tugged up my pants and began fumbling with my belt buckle, but paused before the job was done. I glanced up at my brother. Dustin stood there, ears attentive, one perked, the other off to the side in a position typical for him in moments he had something on his mind, but lacked the words to express himself. His eyes too conveyed a hidden message, something unpracticed and honest. He was starting to feel at home in his own body, I thought, as he appeared to have mastered some masculine, laconic charm to make up for his lack of language.  That now familiar feeling came over me again as our eyes met.  By then I was aware of its unspeakable name, the word for that overwhelming feeling of acquiescence in Dustin’s presence, and the disconsolate longing that would arise at but a whiff of his scent or at a stray thought. This time I dismissed the feeling as the vulnerability of standing there, caught in unfastened pants, but I knew that the excuses I could think of were finite. 
Dustin stood up off the wall and took the two steps over to me.  My head tilted to the side without thinking. His muzzle pressed against mine and found no resistance. Again I reunited with my brother, his scents and his taste, and the inexplicable tingle that arose from the perception of his touch. The hope that whatever drove me to my brother could be rationalized away melted for good in that instant, leaving him, me, and the matter of time before I had to call what I felt by name.
His arms wrapped around me and his paws began their course sweeping down my back to below the level of my tail, fingertips pursuing my bare fur. His paws crept around my waist and slipped under the elastic of my boxers. One of his hands moved to mine, as if he needed to prevent me from zipping up, but I’d already forgotten that that was on my immediate agenda. Encouraged, his other paw slid further under my boxers, beneath my tail, pursuing a quick feel of my butt. From there he followed the curve of my hip, leaving less doubt by the second of what he was after down there. I broke the kiss to gasp as his fingers slowly brushed through my pubic fur, claws gently scratching through the coarser tufts. He soon reached the sliver of my sex, pausing for no more than a moment until his finger slid through my folds, picking up a trace of urine and a hint of more intimate moisture. 
I backed up half a step as my legs started to feel weak, leaning against the bathroom counter-top with my tail wagging over the faucet, knocking over a toothbrush holder in the process. The occurrence startled us both, but within seconds we returned to our kiss undisturbed. My legs parted as if on instinct, allowing my pants to fall down to my ankles. I bucked against the enticing feeling, scarred paw. My boxers stayed put, halfway settled around my thighs, its elastic stretched around me and my brother’s wrist.
His fingers brushed my hood, the perk little prominence within, and teased through my folds, not shying away from my vaginal entrance. I gasped between kisses, venting my excitement against my brother’s cheek, into his fur. I felt a warm flush at the growing intensity and focus of his touch, heat radiating through the capillaries of my face and sex alike. His touch, while demonstrating juvenile or perhaps innately male lack of understanding, had the benefit of at least some experience, enough to send little lightning bolts along my nerves and reawakening my craving, the fatalistic little drive that kept me coming back to my brother like an addict.
I wanted to resist it. I wanted to stay true to my decision not to commit any more incest for a moment longer. I wanted to at least play coy and not suggest that I was as eager, as helplessly hooked as I felt, but I buckled, clinging to my brother with my claws bared as his finger slowly teased my entrance and disappeared into my slick passage. I sung a note perhaps a decibel to loud, perking both their ears at it echoed through the tiled room. Dustin gave me a concerned look in lue of a shush, before our muzzles attracted each other again. 
I could barely keep still, shifting on the laminate counter-top as Dustin‘ s finger twisted and curled just inside my vagina, and surprised at just how quickly I’d gotten wet. It seemed my brother knew how to keep me squirming, to get me to let him feel me in an obscenely intimate way. I’d never fully be able to comprehend the pleasure he got just from touching me there. The time and focus he’d usually spend down there led me to believe there was something to it. I, on the other hand, had very real sensations to hold on to, the increasingly tantalizing itch sparked by my brother’s paw-pads finding and caressing all the right nerves. No part of me was off limits at that point. I let him do as he pleased, angling to permit him to explore as deep as he wanted, in love with the endearing merger of teenage zeal and curiosity that could have kept him playing for hours, until I could take it no longer, until he got me to the point I just had to have more.
My trembling paw reached for Dustin’s belt buckle and struggled to work the leather loose. A button and fly had to give way too, before I could bring my paw into his jeans and locate the firmness of his peaking cock-tip. Not long after a few tugs encouraged my brother’s growing shaft, he tugged down my boxers, letting them join my jeans on the bathroom floor. I stepped out of them and hiked myself onto the counter-top.
I leaned back and wrapped my legs around Dustin. Ankles crossed above his tail in about as clear a sign of what I wanted as was decent. “If you want to,” I said with eyes averted down to the bulge in Dustin’s loosened pants, ears burning from a blush, “go ahead. We just gotta be fast.”
Dustin nodded, teasing me for a few seconds more with an added finger, before slipping free to tend to himself. I gasped as he withdrew, leaving me soaked, primed, and emotionally beyond ready. I watched impatiently as he undid his tail-strap, and in a mere moment wiggled out of his pants and stood between my legs equally bare-bottomed, displaying a reaction to my presence.
“Sis, there’s about a hundred things I’d like to do with you right now,” he said, giving himself a few preparatory strokes with his wet paw and gazing down at my presented sex. 
“Take your pick,” I said, my paw moving to up his tone upper arm. “We got time for one round. Not a second longer.”
“We really need a better arrangement,” he said, finding a favorable place between my legs.
“Yea,” I huffed via an anxious breath, my gaze transfixed on Dustin’s cock as he brought it near my sex. I couldn’t believe it, we were actually going to risk committing incest in our own home. How far gone were we?
I tensed and bit my lip, watching my brother’s cock brush through my lips, instantly collecting my slickness on his tip. Dustin refrained from a lengthy tease. Thank goodness his paw purposefully directed his cock along my folds in search of my entrance. I drew in a breath the moment Dustin’s tapered tip pushed in between my wet labia and held it as he began to fill my sex inch by blissful inch. A sigh left Dustin’s muzzle too as my warmth encompassed his unprotected arousal. We both watched Dustin fully hilt me, then our gazes locked upon one another, muzzles opened just a crack. We paused, eyes affixed to one another, broadcasting needs and fears for the fleeting moment we gave our bodies to adjust to the sensation of sex. Both of us panted even though we just began.
The sudden fullness seemed to soothe the aching buildup within me, at least momentarily. I closed my eyes for a second and reveled in the sensation, aware in some strange intersection of understanding and denial; that under the given conditions I’d never be able to give up Dustin. I was hooked not just on sex, not on incest, but on a person and no confabulated promise could keep me from my fix. I fought the impulse to writhe and buck back just yet, enjoying the stretch, the pleasure of even the slightest movement, and the tickle of Dustin’s sheath-fur upon the exposed skin of my vulva. When I felt ready a set of quick nods up acknowledged my brother. He responded with a single understanding nod, swept a paw across my cheek and began his task. He began to thrust with a sudden release of energy. I bit my tongue to stifle another tone, surprised at, but not resisting, my brother’s eagerness. My claws sunk into his fur and I braced upon the counter-top, allowing the force of his movements to rock my body and drive me into a back and forth sway.
Both our muzzles pointed at the sight of penetration. I sucked in my tummy so that we could better watch Dustin’s cock, slick with my arousal and no doubt some of his pre, slip in and out of my sex. Dustin’s knot was already visible and growing by the moment. I could already feel my lips and passage spread around his form. The swelling bumps stretched lips and the inner inches of my pussy, imparting a rare sensation that felt just right in my canine body. His thrusts slowed to long and deep movements, ones intended to allow me to feel every inch and feature of his cock. My brother teased me with that certain anatomical feature, perhaps hinting at something that really needed no explanation. What was certain was that an absolute ‘no’ had been eroded over time to a fairly optimistic ‘maybe,’ despite how familiar I’d become with the daunting size of that thing.  
"We should do this sometime," Dustin said, hilting me once more with a buck that required a bit of force.
I cried a meek yelp, since the entirety of my brother's length always proved a challenge. This time I could almost feel him swell within me, his shape proving a much more perfect match for me than I imagined. A tingle ran though me as my pussy flexed around his canine form. His warm bareness enticed and rendered my senses fuzzy, until another less involuntary flex reminded me of the danger perhaps seconds away from being achieved. 
"You crazy!" I said. "Not here!” With a more decisive prohibition remaining absent from my statement. 
"I know," he said, popping his knot free with what required a bit of a tug. "Sometime," he continued, resuming his regular motions, a noticeable tone of disappointment to his voice.
I sighed as my brother's knot pulled from me for the last time, leaving a noticeable lack of fullness and a craving I tried my best to shake off. Dustin didn’t give me much of a chance to recuperate. He quickly resumed a satisfying pace of short quick strokes, keeping his gaze fixed downward as usual upon the pornographic sight of his cock slipping into his sister’s pussy. I’ll confess I cast an interested glance or two down, though the intense combination of movement and pleasure made it difficult to concentrate on anything in particular. I mostly just observed, watching my brother act out his quirks as he made love to me. His eyes shone with the expected glimmer of familiarly, even from behind the haze of baser instincts, possessing innocence with the power to put me at ease no matter what the circumstances. Something about his presence made me forget we were but a thin wall away from discovery and mitigated the almost painful realization that a compulsion had power over me.
His movements became swifter, ever more desperate as if suddenly remembering the precariousness of our location. The unavoidable slap of his knot echoed throughout the small bathroom, drawing the apprehensive attention of our ears. His balls swung along the underside of my tail, striking me perceptibly with each cycle of movement. I had to press a paw against the cabinet doors to keep them from vibrating; doing whatever it took to keep our domestic illicitness as covert as possible. He finally leaned in and gave me the kiss I’d been wishing for, his warm breath panting from his nostrils down my muzzle.
My pussy quivered around my brother’s cock in both intentional and involuntary spasms. I could already feel the ache, the pressure in my bladder, and waves of tension building in my lower belly. Each pass off Dustin’s cock and every strike of his knot added that much more pressure, incrementally pushing me to my bursting point. I selfishly angled my hips to make the most of my brother’s movement, meeting his thrusts in pursuit of that naughty sensation and to feel the surprisingly effective brush of his pubic fur on my erect hood. I looked up and down, my paws did the talking, desperately teaching Dustin how to properly have sex with me.
When the dated design of the bathroom no longer did anything for me, I closed my eyes and imagined myself elsewhere, somewhere open, far away from the embarrassing enclosure of some bathroom left unchanged since the 1970s. I felt myself running through the cool autumn air, the leaves crunching beneath my bare foot-paws. I could see the colors of my brother’s fur blurred between the trunks of trees. My heart raced and I panted, just as I remembered, when I chased Dustin or when he chased me. I could almost feel the jolt when he pulled me into the leaves, and hovered above me with his face showing the signs of elation and his sheath the signs of arousal. I remembered the shiver and the rush of warmth coursing between my legs, the flush of blood to my sex, and the lightheadedness as I lay on the earth beneath my naked brother. From there I departed from memory. Instead of shying away and succumbing to awkwardness and shame, I took him in. I guided him between my thighs, I let him become my mate, and I allowed myself to be earnestly and recklessly bred.
“Is it safe to finish inside?” Dustin panted, partially ripping me from my reverie. 
“Yea,” I yelped in a high-pitch voice, before my sluggish mind could even remember the date and my cycle. I nodded again as I deemed myself safe enough, and braced myself for the oncoming final movements and the worries that were sure to follow.
I closed my eyes and took myself back between the trees, while occasional kisses and licks landed upon my muzzle. I imagined his knot slapping against my lips, or better yet, preferably swollen to capacity just inside my pussy, and expected the imminent throb of collie seed. A penultimate push off Dustin’s knot against me brought me back into the present. In that moment I fell into the tension and flutter of climax, as if the cloud I clung on suddenly ceased to exist. All pressure suddenly gave way to an instant of utter bliss. My sex quivered upon my brother’s length, clenching his arousal with all my muscle’s might. 
Dustin joined me in climax a moment later with a last slamming thrust, moaning softly as repeated lesser pushes pressed his bare cock-tip as deep inside his sister’s pussy as he could hope to reach. I expressed a blissful sigh at the faint, albeit definite, internal ejaculations, well aware that each wet throb carried with it a jet of incestuous sperm. I panted along with my brother, clinging to him, watching his body tense and his facial features contort into an almost unrecognizable visage of climax. His hips pushed into me after the most satisfying spurts left him. A sequence of animistic humps pumped the last little gushes of compatible canid semen into my accepting intimacy, to his, and consequently, my pleasure. I felt the dangerous warmth spread within me as my spasms subsided and the moment of bliss gave way to post-coital contentedness.
When the panting superseded the most severe deeds, my limbs lost their tension and my tingly, oversensitive body returned to near normal composure. Our passion-clouded eyes met and our muzzles inched toward one other, culminating in a deep kiss with tongues dashing over each other and the fangs of the opposite sex. We stayed united in a kiss far more meaningful than either dared realize. Neither of us seemed willing to break it, engrossed in the skewed perception of time. I felt my brother’s cock soften and the internal stretch subside in a very intimate way. I could even perceive a trickle of his cum slowly seep from around his shaft, tickling me as it oozed from my sensitive lips and soaked both our pubic fur in yet another fluid. As always, in the moments after cumming, all my senses seemed hyper aware, heart racing and nerves tingling as a cocktail of brain chemicals rewarded my body for weathering incest.
“Okay,” I said, breaking the kiss. I looked at my adorable, post-coital brother, my paw tenderly sweeping over his muzzle and cheek. There were three words I wanted to say, but I could only find I voicing, “we’ve been in here way too long.”
“Feels like it,” he said, looking to the door then down at our united sexes, at the white viscous substance slowly trickling from me and filling the spaces between us. 
I gasped and bit my lip as my brother slowly pulled his cock free. A rush of our cum chased his cock-tip. The white tinted ooze cascaded from my vagina, down over my tail-hole and pooled in my tail-fur. A shiver bristled my fur after he withdrew, at the void he left, and at the feeling of the warmth he left behind cooling on my sensitive folds. My brother stepped back, leaving my sex scented of male rough collie, and gazed upon the mess he made. My nose and ears burnt the way they always did when I showed myself to Dustin after sex. The trickle of evidence and the knowledge of the risk it represented complemented the sudden shyness. “Damn-it,” I thought, watching the milky viscosity creep from my unprotected body. Again, I was pretty sure I wasn’t ovulating yet, but I had no way of knowing how tenacious Dustin’s swimmers would be. This was my decision and I would have to own it. I knew that little indulgence would mean some nail-biting come end of the month. All this risk for a quick needy fuck. I knew it wasn’t worth it. Apparently I wasn’t very good at learning lessons.
“I really hope you don’t think I’m weird, but I really like doing that to you,” he said, sliding his paws down my thighs to my knees where he made it difficult for me to close my legs. 
“I already know you’re weird,” I said, teasing him. “Ain’t nothing you can do to tell me otherwise.”
“If that’s the case, I won’t bother trying to change your mind,” he said, his gaze once again darting down to the explicit. “Come on sis, let’s see the damage.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed, but knew there would be no point in resisting. My ears swept back demurely as I brought my paw down between my thighs and let my fingers spread apart my lips for Dustin.  I looked down upon myself then up at my brother with an exaggerated impatient expression. I hid fairly well that the pleasure he got from seeing me marked proved contagious. Showing Dustin his own cum became an act of confession I no longer resisted. It somehow alleviated the wrongness of incest, and of the obvious possibility consequential to the fact I’d just taken his load off my period, all of which weighed upon me like a burden of lead. In a way showing him freed me. It made me feel glad that someone I trusted knew I was having unprotected sex, even if that person was complicit with me. It meant I could go back to my room and everything would go back to normal and stay that way, hopefully. When it came to our relationship, logic ceased to matter.
"I saved up for you this time," Dustin said, a tone of pride in his voice as he cast a glance between my thighs. He brought his paw between my legs. His fingers came to rest beside mine and helped me spread my slick lips to experience the compound taboo for himself. He hummed with self-satisfaction as his finger-pads erased the perfect little cascade of white leading to my entrance and painted my pink sliver in glistening sheen of his genetic material. 
"I thought we weren't going to do this anymore?" I said, speaking into my navel as I watched Dustin admire my messy labia.
"What? Finishing inside, or making love altogether?”
My ears flicked at my brother’s choice of words. “Both,” I said.
“I can stop asking for this,” he said, implying the obvious, “if it stresses you out.”
“There’s always the possibility,” I said. “We’ve been lucky thus far. We should probably start using condoms though. If you keep cumming in me, it’s gonna happen, even if I try and keep track of my cycle. I’m really tired of worrying.” My voice had a tone of disappointment in it, but not just because I would miss the intimacy of going bare.  The both of us were normalizing incest. The condom conversation meant honesty. It meant we were done skipping from one ‘Fine, this will be the last time’ to another penultimate session. It meant that we both were and would continue to be sexually active and needed to behave as such. It meant we were not as responsible as we thought when we set out and we now needed contraception from keeping our teenage hormones from doing something irrevocable. “But I also meant more than just this. I thought we wanted to go back to normal.”
“Said and done.” Dustin said. “I might have been able to find a source for some condoms, but I really don’t want to give you up, sis.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Honestly?” He asked.
“Honestly.”
“I want to keep going,” Dustin said. 
“I don’t know if I can,” I said, sweeping back my ears and averting my gaze.
“Why not?” He asked, finally removing his paw from me and stepping back to dry it off on his towel.
“Because.”
“Because isn’t an answer. Because what?”
“Because if we keep doing this, something is going to happen,” I said, finally able to close my legs. I slipped off the counter and felt my brother’s viscous slickness squish between my thighs in a way that sent a shiver though my body. Standing there bare bottomed with my pussy dripping of Dustin’s sperm definitely constituted an argumentative handicap. A sideways glance in the mirror proved I couldn’t even take myself seriously, let alone maintain a position worthy of being heard.
“This is more than just about sex, isn’t it?” Dustin said, standing just a few inches away from me. I took comfort in the fact that he stood in just as indecent a state as I. His knot prevented his spent dongle from regressing back into the warmth of his sheath. He would have looked silly, hanging out as he did. The difference between us was that I’d given into acting on my emotions. Gone was the cloak of rational superiority, the maturity I’d gained early on in puberty and lorded over Dustin throughout our teens. Hormones, bad decisions, or some deep seeded cause hidden in the nebula of our childhood which would require a therapist to excavate equalized us, or at least took me down off my high horse.
“Do you feel it too?” I said, picking up my underwear and looking at the fabric, too timid to ask Dustin directly.
“I do,” he confirmed.
“We’re fucked up aren’t we?” I said.
“Beyond fucked up, Alex.” We shared a moment of silence. I took the moment to perk my ears, to listen for the sounds of steps and creaking floorboards which we should have been paying attention to all along.
After all I heard was quiet, I continued. “The reason I wanted to stop is if we keep doing this, I won’t be able to stop the emotions.” 
“How do you think I feel?” Dustin asked. 
“It’s happening isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Fuck,” I said, the little confession sinking like a stone through my thoughts. I felt a little knot in my stomach as a hope, a fear, and an expectation confirmed itself. 
“Think about it,” he said.
“What do you think I have been doing? I’ve thought about it so much I don’t want to anymore.” I said so quickly, I had to hush the last few words.
He took the two steps over to the toilet and began to relieve himself. I tried not glance over at him and afford him the privacy he seldom afforded me. Nonetheless a sideways glance spied him in the act, rather shamelessly. “Do you really want to stop?” He asked over the sound of urine splashing in the bowl.
I sighed, pressing my thighs together. My body still reeled from sex. The scents and the sensations still lingered. The unique and illicit feeling forced me to tense. I squirmed, wanting to hold onto the sensation. It was a reminder of the numerous crossroads they set for one another. Each offered a new route of escape, yet every time they came colliding back as if some fatalist tether bonded them to some sick inevitability. “Not really.” I said, the three pertinent albeit impossible words catching in my throat. 
“I’m glad” he said, letting his stream diminish to a trickle. I watched him shake himself off and then look at me, his muzzle poised to say something. He paused, reflected, and spoke, “I really like this a lot.” His ears flicked, as if he realized the banality of his statement. “I mean,” he continued in self-repair.
“I know what you mean,” I finished for him. “It’s weird, but I’m glad it’s with you.”
He chuckled as language broke down. He swayed, scratched his mane, and tried not to look foolish standing there bare-bottomed with his spent penis hanging unsheathed. The latter was impossible to do.
I chuckled too, childishly. My gaze averted shyly at my brother’s loss of words and my own. I wished I had something better to say, but the choices I had were either taboo or silly. In the brief moment we relied on a code of glances to confirm what we already knew.
“We’ll have to figure something out,” he said. 
“Yea. Can’t do it here again.”
“Where else?”
“Not our rooms,” I said as if obvious.
“Doesn’t leave much else.”
“It’s gotta be some place more hidden.”
“This house ain’t that big.”
“We’ll figure something out. It’s high time to high-tail it out of here.”
Dustin nodded and started to sift for his underwear. 
I stepped to my brother over the entanglement of shed clothing. We embraced in one final kiss; one I hoped would adequately express everything I couldn’t say. It seemed to have that effect as Dustin shared in it with the same, perhaps elevated, intensity.
“I’ll go first. Then you,” he said, as we broke off. Our gazes met in an expressive exchange, one aware of the other’s unspoken intentions yet reluctant of necessity.
I nodded, slowly letting my brother slip away. Our paws squeezed each other before we truly separated.
Both of us quietly pulled up our pants and buttoned ourselves up. We met in another glance as Dustin reached for the door. He nodded one final time before flipping the lock and vanishing into the hall. I looked around the bathroom for any remaining signs which could get us in trouble. I wiped the counter-top clean and flushed the toilet after my brother, who once again forgot. The tap of an air freshener overpowered some of the lingering scents of cum and sex. I followed Dustin a moment later, looking both ways down the dark hall before hopping into my room. There I quietly closed the door behind me, leaning against it as soon as it shut. I sighed as the tension left me. Only then did I feel the wobbliness of my legs, and the rapid beat of my heart. 
The strangest feeling of all came over me as I sunk down to the floor, my cooling body and decelerating heart finally shedding away the post-orgasmic euphoria. I closed my eyes, yet I still saw the flashing images of moments earlier replaying behind my eyelids. The emptiness I associated with the void left after sex was there, the familiar bodily memory not unlike the tingle left after a cold knife gently presses against skin. This time the feeling wasn’t just isolated to my sex, it crept up my abdomen and seemed far more visceral. Even though Dustin was only a room away, I already missed him. I wondered if it were even possible to miss someone in the same household, and to feel alone when just a few steps would remedy that problem. 
I wondered then, as I often did, what If Dustin had been anyone else. What if he were another boy from school? Would our paths have ever crossed? Would we even be friends? If only he were someone else, then we wouldn’t need the secrecy. I could walk hand in hand with him down the corridors at school, I could take him to meet dad, and I could even sneak a kiss to make others jealous at home or around town. Perhaps everything I felt would not have been so unusual. What was I but a teenage girl with a crush; the most normal thing in the world.  Was that what I was, a girl with a crush? It couldn’t be. It was worse.