Jack Untitled

   My friends had always laughed when I asked if any of them had ever had feelings for their brother the way I did. I wondered if it was only natural to want to look when he was getting ready for bed; seeing his stomach and his back made me feel things I didn't feel when I saw myself in the mirror, or felt when a  boy who had once taken me behind the school had kissed me. I asked them if they felt a pulling from below from the place where pee comes from. They giggled when I admitted that I liked my brother in ways that a sister shouldn't. To them it was weird because their siblings were all younger than they; but I only had him and he was eight years my senior.
   I think there was always a sort of longing within me for him. Whenever he would hold me or look at me lovingly I felt more than love for him. He used to take me with him to concerts when I was only 16; he would be busy having fun jumping around and hollering like a maniac, and I would be right beside him watching him and loving him and wanting more than anything to be the only thing in his world.
   He's had more than his fair share of girlfriends over the years; all of which I was envious of. I would always hear them fooling around in his room late at night when mom and dad were gone for work. Each collective squeak of the mattress springs sent me spiraling into a frenzied hatred, in which I would spend hours bawling into a pillow that I had named Jack, after him. I would always forgive him, mentally, in the mornings after he had his nights with his girls. He couldn't possibly know my feelings for him, and it would be terrible for me to be angry at him for something he was unaware of.
  
   My lust for Jack grew considerably my last year of high school. When everyone was preparing for college and having their last hurrah's with their friends, I was busy spending as much time with Jack as was possible. He never grew suspicious even though he had spotted me spying on him on countless occasions. Jack had always been very kind to me, and to our parents. He and I looked kind of like brother and sister; he had short-ish black hair and I had long sort of wavy brown hair. We both had green eyes and we always got complimented on them all the time. Neither of us ever knew what was so special about them but we let people have their fun when they wanted.
   Even though he was a full five inches taller than I was, Jack always seemed to be able to look into my eyes. He was very intent on doing so when we were talking, especially when it was a subject that was touchy for either of us. Our favorite place to have talks and hang out together was in the small closet under the stairs leading to the bedrooms. His room is just down the hall from mine, so whenever he wanted to talk he would knock on my door, and if I opened it and he wasn't there that was his signal that we'd meet in the place.
   Mom and dad never minded us being in there; it had been our favorite play place since we were really small and they didn't care that we kept all the ruckus contained in a small room. There were still old toys on the shelves we would absentmindedly play with while talking.
   Jack had never made any sort of advancement towards me, but I hadn't to him even though my want for him was like a furnace within me. I always hung out in his room, whether he was in there or not. I knew where all his hiding places were for things that mom and dad didn't want either of us to have. Dirty magazines, a pipe or two, and an occasional bag of white powder. I never asked him what any of the things were that were in there, only partly because he hadn't ever shown me his secret place. I didn't want to betray his trust in me. I didn't want him to distance himself because he didn't feel secure about the things that other people didn't know about.
I never cared when he did drugs when Dad was out on trips and mom had some weekends with a few girlfriends sometimes. I would sit in my room and watch him snorting and smoking and inhaling things, both of our doors would be open, the bare light bulb illuminating his room would cast a shadow over him when he was done, making him look sunk and shallow and washed up, like there was nothing left for him to give to his substance of choice.
   I would always stay with him while he went up and came down, hours spent rubbing his clammed forehead and checking his pulse. After he was alright he would sit there and look at me apologetically. He would never say a word about it to me, but I knew that he needed me there for him in case he took too much, or went too far.
   I didn't ever mind when his friends came over and did it with him either. Except I wouldn't be able to take care of him then. I was scared that his friends would tease him about not being able to handle it. Getting them water and food was my way of taking care of him and them.
   He never offered me to do things with him, though he always jokingly asked if I wanted a drag from his cigarette whilst we took various walks down the dimly lit canals networking in between communities. I only grew curious about trying whenever he would do something that made him warm up to me more than usual. Jack binged once in a while, mom and dad didn't like him drinking in the house even though he was of age. When he would drink he would be very funny and he would stumble if I didn't help him walk up and down the stairs. He would say things like,"I don't know if I could make it without you Jaz. You always help me up when I'm down."

    I never knew that he was depressed until he told the whole family about it on Christmas a year ago. I didn't know that active drug users were a lot more likely to be depressed, but he was always happy when I saw him. I'd never seen him frown.

"You know you're the only person in the world that makes me happy now. I don't even have friends that I like anymore. They're all shells of the people I used to love. They all changed into something that was between them and nothing."
His eyes were shining with held in tears. I couldn't look away even though I wanted to, just to spare him. I wanted to see his smile again and I didn't know how to handle Jack like this. I hadn't an idea of what to say. The cramped space of the broom closet was a little musty and I heard the saddened footsteps of my family descending the stairs above.
"Jack, you're my best friend. I don't know a soul better than I know you."
I held in my cracking voice as best as I could, though I wavered near the end before looking down at my hands.
The single light in the room reminded me of the light in Jack's room. He looked a lot older than he was with the dark shadows dancing under his eyes. He had looked down too, we both needed to be together.
"I've lost control of my life." Again he entranced me with his watering gaze, I was helpless as I started crying even before the first tear had fallen from his eye.
I stood over him, bending to avoid hitting my head on the short, slanted ceiling. I held his head into my chest as I cried, and he held me around the waist, seemingly clinging to his life.

   As I finished school I spent hours with Jack in his room. I told him that if he couldn't stop that I had to be there too. That I had to know what was taking the person I love most in the world away from me. We would get high in the middle of the day, when our parents were working and I was supposed to be in class. I did everything that he did; I snorted things I couldn't pronounce and I smoked things I knew would damage me. I cried sometimes because I would be too far gone to help Jack anymore. We would  lay together on the floor with needles still in our arms and I would just manage to turn him on his side before I passed into abyssal sleep.
   Jack had started losing weight long before he told any of us that he was sad. I didn't know it was because of the things he was doing. I didn't know that my appetite had disappeared until I no longer wanted to eat simply because it all smelled rotten. It was as if the substances flying up my nose were destroying it and deteriorating it.
 
   "I love you Jasmine."
   "I love you too Jack."

   We both knew that our parents knew, but they were too tired from working their schedules to do much about it. They sent us to therapists, but we didn't divulge anything that could help them help us. We were stuck together in the hell of Jack's world. He hadn't dragged me with him, he had led the way.


   The day I turned 18 I did my first bump of meth off the dashboard of Jack's car. We were in a parking lot of an old theater out about 20 miles from town. We were heading up to go camping for the day, but decided to stay in the car all night and drink until the world dissolved in front of us.
   I climbed out of the passenger seat after opening the door, I needed fresh air after a hit like that.
"Let's go see if we can get in that place." Jack was flicking his nose as he lit a cigarette.
I agreed as I morbidly hobbled toward the sun bleached building. I was in nothing but a sweater and some shorts I'd had since eighth grade, and Jack was in an unwashed pair of jeans an a Joy division shirt that had a hole near his groin. I wondered if it was there because he tried sticking his penis into it, but I didn't ask.
   The doors were locked and boarded over, but the windows were still in, even though most closed places have them removed and boarded up as well. Jack wrapped his hand in a bandana he had in his pocket and punched the glass out. We crunched over the wall and found a dark and musky theater lobby with everything in it but people and fresh food.
   It seemed more quite in here than anywhere else I had ever been in my entire life; the various theaters were small and the place was dated, probably from the 70's.
We both walked around separately, looking at the things that used to be used, and wouldn't any more. Their purpose was done, and no one in the world wanted them anymore.

"This place reminds me of my life."
Jack dusted off various display cases that were empty of their contents. The carpet was slightly worn; maybe this place didn't get as much traffic as was hoped.
   We made our way into the first theater, the seats all folded and some were removed and set off to the side for future removal and use in other places.
Jack and I sat together near the middle of the seats, the screen never changed from it's stark blackness.

"I like this film."

It was a good long while before we said anything else. We both liked being in a place that matched what we now both were inside. Not a single thing didn't remind us of the s**t hole we called lives. We lusted about it for ages.
 
   Jack turned to me after he had enough of the silence,"What will death feel like to you?"
I sat and thought about it, having never been asked a question of the sort before.
"I think it'll feel like when your arm falls asleep. It's uncomfortable and then there's nothing else."
I seemed to make him think because he turned away again, allowing the dampening sound to override us again.
   "Jack, have you ever loved one of those girls you slept with?"
   "No. Not a single one. Not the way I know love."
I thought maybe I'd hit a nerve with him.
   "Why, have you?" I saw his eyes on me from my peripheral vision.
   "I've never slept with anyone." It was a weird thing to be embarrassed about. He'd seen me half dead laying on the grass in a park, but as soon as he knew I was a virgin I felt like an alien.
"That's weird, I always heard guys talking about how pretty you were. I thought maybe you'd gotten around."
I guess he still didn't know that I was saving myself for him. Even if he never wanted me, I would always be there for him, untouched and spoil free; his for the taking.
"Yeah, I guess it's odd that I'm a druggie but I'm a virgin. Those two usually don't go hand in hand."

   He didn't stop looking at me, and I remember him putting his hand around my waist as I fell asleep. We sat there for hours, rotting away like the theater was, hoping no one would find us and make us leave our sanctuary.
If there was ever a place meant for us it was that theater.

   When I woke up hours later, we were still sitting. He was sleeping, though his hand was up my shirt and he seemed to have unzipped his pants.
It was much to my delight, but I didn't want him waking up sober and wondering why I was sucking his dick, so I pulled his hand out and got up.
Taking walks was always our way of getting away from something for just a little while, to think about things and talk about what we could do about them. We rarely went out alone, but I felt like it was a point that I needed to decide what I was going to do.
After lapping the place a dozen times, I went back in to get Jack. I stood over him and shook him awake, my sweater showing how cold I was while I did nothing to hid it.
"What time is it?" His eyes were puffy like they always were after he woke up from narcotic induced slumber.
"I don't know, I've been in here the entire time."

   We went back to the broken window, seeing that not much time had actually passed. Meth makes time turn fast, and you feel like you're missing out on everything in the world.
   Back near the car we sat in the parking lot and smoked together, watching the road to see if any cars passed by. Every so often a semi would roar down, too distracted to look over and see us trying to get them to honk their horns like the asses we were.
The day went on like this, us sitting and joking around as we opened bottle after bottle of budweiser, tossing the empty ones further down the lot to see how spectacularly we could make them shatter.
  
   "Jaz, have you ever thought about me sexually?" He seemed frank, and genuinely curious. I couldn't tell if he would judge me on my answer, but I felt no need to hide it from him. He had never asked before, but I'm sure if he had I would've told him the truth at any time.
   "Yeah. I think about you a lot like that Jack." I didn't look at him, but I didn't shy away from what I had said either. I wasn't ashamed anymore.
   He looked around. He didn't seem disgusted, and it seemed like he was pondering what to say. I couldn't tell if he was expecting that answer.
I lit a cigarette as he got up and got into the back seat of the car.

After I finished I got up to see what he was doing.
He had fallen asleep naked, but he was lying on his back and had a full erection. I wondered if he was really asleep.

I opened the door and got in, laying next to him while still fully clothed.
"Jack?"
"Hm?"
"Have you ever thought about me?"

   He rolled onto his side, and I met his eyes. Slowly gliding his hand over my stomach, he whispered,"What do you think?"

I couldn't remember how it happened, but I was naked next to him, my lips attached to his like they were always meant to be. I felt the burning inside of me like I always had; the fierce scorch that never ebbed even after the things I took to dampen its ferocity. Our hands moved on each other gently, like snakes we explored skin and hidden places. I felt his breath quicken when I tugged on his raven black hair, I couldn't help but to force him to look me in the eyes as he fingered me the entire time. It was exhilarating to know that he had fantasized about me too, maybe he had jerked off to the naked pictures I left in his room to find. I put them in his secret place, and they were gone when I checked again.
   We couldn't stop if we wanted to; I didn't ever want to stop touching him. His skin was smoother than porcelain, and he was rough where he needed to be. His stubble scratched my face as he kissed me, making his way around my groin with his hands. His fingers were slippery with my lust clinging to them as he felt the innermost part of me. I couldn't stop myself from making the noises that I did. I felt like we were animals who finally gave in to our primal urge. I couldn't stop my hands from rubbing and pulling on his deliciously large c**k. My head was spinning with arousal and I couldn't stop needing more of him.
   He broke our kiss, sliding his tongue over my breasts and sucking my hardened n*****s into his mouth. He was loud with his satisfaction of their taste. The mounds on my chest bounced back as he let them go after each nibble and suck.
   It was like my n*****s were hot-wired to my c**t as it felt like he was licking my groin each time his silken tongue would pass over them. It felt like I could cum just from him playing with them like that.
  
   He moved down, giving me painful hickeys around my tummy and hips; marking his territory with plum red blotches as he teased his way down into his prize. I wanted to give all of myself to him. I wanted him to know me like no one else ever will.
   In a weird way I wanted to become him forever, so I could love him and myself because I would be everything I've ever wanted.
  
   Jack continued tracing with the tip of his tongue and lips until he met my pelvis. He sat between my legs, spreading me open with his fingers, casting his gorgeous sight over my luxuriously preserved p***y. I knew he could see my want for him dripping from the place I had never even been. I had always refrained from masturbating because I wanted him to make me cum first.
  
   "You're beautiful."

   He didn't move for long seconds, absorbing what he was about to do. Slowly he leaned in, tracing circles with the tip of his tongue around my c**t; electricity jumped from my crotch and into my fingers, I bucked uncontrollably as his head bobbed with my movement.

I can't describe the perfection his mouth was on me. Every lick was the best thing I had ever felt. He was a good kisser, and I now knew why it was desirable to be a decent at it. He did things with his lips that made me cry from the pleasure, and looking down at his face in between my legs made me cum harder than anyone who had ever lived.

  
   I had barely stopped screaming his name before he filled me with his member. Never has there been a time I felt more complete. It was Jack f*****g me. The love of my life was inside of me after years of lust and fantasy.
As he thrust I heard myself mutter to him that I wanted him to cum inside of me. I wanted to feel his warmth in me after he himself was out. I didn't care about the dangers of him doing so, I only cared that it was the two of us in this moment.
This was my whole life in the back seat of the car. We were both drunk and a still a little high, f*****g and sweating more than Olympic athletes.
  
   I thought I was going to explode as I came with him in me; my vision darkened as I ascended into another time. My body sent me wave after wave of terribly sweet orgasm, and right as I reached Nirvana I felt him cum in me, spurting his semen into me-- the sister he's loved since I came home from the hospital.
   He kept going long after he was soft, ebbing my orgasm on for as long as possible.

   I never loved someone like I loved Jack.

   Our lips met again while he was still inside, preventing his cum from dripping on me. I don't think I've ever kissed anyone while our eyes were still open, but closing them felt wrong as we tasted each other. We couldn't get enough of one another. Jack would never let me go.

"I finally love a girl I've slept with."

Author's Note

Don't be gentle with criticism, it helps.

Reviews

[James Walker]

Very well written story. Congratulations.