Hi Folks. I was browsing through a bunch of old CDs ... remember those? ... in a music store ... remember those? Anyway ... AK came over and brought me a CD she’d found. It was called Harden my Heart: the greatest hits of Quarterflash. She’d never heard of them, which isn’t surprising since she wasn’t born yet when they first hit. So, I bought it and this story came out of it. Although AK and I both loved, “take me to heart,” this one, “Take another picture,” just begged to be written. It’s a bit different from my usual fare, but still a good one. Here we go. SS06
I sat there in the church on the verge of tears. Some women always cry at weddings.
Normally, I’m not one of them.
Normally the vision of two people swearing to love and care for each other for as long as they may live, fills me with happiness and hope.
Normally, the sight of a woman at her best, as beautiful as she will ever be, makes me smile and think back to my own wedding. God ... I was beautiful!
The inevitable comparison between myself and the woman getting married is forced from my consciousness as a big dumb guy pushes himself into the pew and sits down beside me.
“Ed ... get the fuck away from me,” I hiss. My anger and loathing of the man is so intense that my entire face reddens, overwhelming my make-up.
The white-hot tears, coming from my eyes somehow defeat my waterproof mascara and it begins to run.
“Jeezus, Sis, calm down,” he says. “I know you hate me. And I know she forced you to be here today. She forced me to be here too. It’s way fuckin’ worse for me than it is for you. But I’ve got some really good news for you.”
“The only good news coming out of you would be the announcement of your funeral,” I hiss. “And you wouldn’t be the one to give it to me since you’d have to be dead!”
“Shit, Sis. Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel about me,” he said. If I didn’t hate him so much, I’d have laughed at that.
“I’m gonna give you the good news any way,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” I hissed. “If you don’t stop talking to me I’m gonna make a scene and Corinne wouldn’t like you ruining her wedding. I wonder what she’d do to you.
“Let’s see ... you already only get to see your kids twice a year ... and even then, it has to be supervised by an officer of the court...”
“Okay,” he said angrily. “I won’t tell you about Mark!”
My head snapped to attention at the mention of my recently lost love’s name.
“Tell me God dammit!” I hissed. “Tell me now!”
“Do you want the good news,” he smirked. “Or the REALLY good news?”
“Listen you big, fat, fucking pervert, just tell me,” I said louder than I intended. The people sitting around us turned their heads toward us and gave us angry glares. I didn’t care.
“When I went to see Corinne, to let her know that I was here and following her orders ... man that was a scene. She actually made them let me in the room while she was getting dressed.
“I never knew I’d married such a bitch. I think she’s enjoying this ... you know ... torturing me by forcing me to come and watch her marry some other guy. And just to turn the screws, she lets me come back there and see her getting dressed. She lets me see glimpses of a body that I will never have again.
“And while we’re on the subject ... Mark did a good job training her. Her waistline is trimmer. Her ass is rounder. Her legs look awesome. I have never seen her look that good ... and...”
“And shut the fuck up about Corinne,” I hissed. “Get to the part about Mark!”
“Oh yeah, he looks like hammered shit!” he said. “All of his confidence is gone. He looks totally defeated. It’s like he wants to cry but he doesn’t have any tears left. This is worse than the way he got when Ford changed the body style on the Mustang. I don’t think he’s over you yet. You did a number on his heart, Sis.”
Hearing that gave me hope. I started smiling. I didn’t give a fuck about anything. If Mark called me tonight or any other night. I’d be there. I didn’t care if he was marrying Corinne or not. I would drive a dull spoon through Corinne’s forehead in front of her kids and this whole fucking church ... shit I’d do it IN the church ... for a chance to get my husband back.
“Sis, Corinne isn’t marrying Mark,” Ed said. “Mark is part of the ceremony, but he’s giving the bride away. Since her father passed away, Mark, as Corinne’s best buddy is doing the honors.”
“Oh Jeezus. Thank God,” I yelled, getting more angry glares from the people around us. I didn’t care. My sense of relief made it seem like Christmas.
I still had a chance. I had ruined so many things and so many lives with a moment of weakness.
They started the wedding march and the groom stopped talking to the people he was with. He went to stand in front of the minister who was conducting the ceremony.
“Bastard!” spat Ed. He was having difficulty remaining still. I got the idea that he wanted to attack the guy.
“The guy must be at least fifty,” he whined. “Corinne can’t be marrying him for his looks.”
I laughed at that.
“What’s so God damned funny?” he growled.
“She married you, dumbass,” I snorted. “And you’re not exactly a handsome prince.”
“That was different,” he said. “Corinne married me because ... she loved me...” his voice trailed off and he too shed a few tears.
His voice was more choked up than I had ever heard it. I’ve known the bastard for all of his life. I’ve known him longer than he’s known himself. And nothing had ever hurt him this badly.
I’d seen him cry when our grandparents died. I’d tried to cheer him up when his puppy was run over by a truck ... Nothing matched this. If I didn’t hate him so much, I’d have hugged him and tried to tell him that it was all going to be alright.
For a second, I thought about telling him that it WAS going to be alright. Lying to him and giving him a hope that would never happen seemed like a good thing to me.
“I ... I hurt the only person who’s ever really loved me.” He sobbed. I looked around and some of the people around us were looking again.
“He gets emotional at weddings.” I said to whoever was listening.
“Stop crying, you dumb bitch,” I hissed. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“You’re supposed to be my sister ... You’re supposed to be family,” he sobbed, trying to keep his voice down. “Don’t you have a fucking ounce of compassion?”
“Not for you,” I hissed. “Not a fucking drop. You ruined my life. Fuck you!”
“It’s always about you isn’t it, Darleen?” he spat.
I sat back and then moved even farther away from him. My anger moved up to an even more intense level.
A shared hum moved through the large church as the crowd caught its first glimpse of the bride.
Corinne, for as long as I’ve known her has always been a pretty woman. She’s not a smaller girl like me, but she’s not big either.
She’s right in the middle, so no one paid her body any attention. Until now!
Corinne was wearing a beautiful dress in a pale blue color. The dress molded itself to her body like a second skin. It was scooped deeply in the front, with a very sheer lace panel that prevented the entirety of her breasts from falling out. But the sheerness of the lace made sure they would be on display.
The dress molded itself so well to her ass that every woman in that church knew that she wasn’t wearing panties.
Corinne was breathtaking, and her dress made several statements.
It seemed as though the dress was designed to speak to my brother more than anyone else.
The dress said, “I am not some frumpy little wife who has to put up with your shit. I am beautiful. I am sexy, and most of all ... I am no longer yours.
The pale blue color told everyone there that this wasn’t her first wedding. But the cut and how sexy it was, told them that she had survived the first one and that SHE was fine.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t see Mark as he walked her down the aisle. Corinne and that long blue dress dominated my field of vision.
Every woman in that audience wanted that dress. Half of them wanted to be Corinne, and the other half were sure that they would look better in it.
It wasn’t the dress though. It was HER. Corinne had evolved. She stood there, brimming with confidence, and very sure of herself. She was radiating an, ‘I don’t give a fuck,’ attitude that made her seem as if she was above it all.
I was pretty sure that she’d gotten that attitude from Mark. He’d probably taken her out for a ten-mile run and then told her, “If you can do this ... There’s nothing you can’t do.”
Seeing the two of them standing there, together, drawing strength from each other, put a smile on my face.
I never thought I’d be happy, but I was. I was happier than I’d been in a long time. Mark was not marrying Corinne. I still had a chance. I felt like singing it out to the birds and the trees.
Mark’s suit, unlike the groom’s, matched Corinne’s dress. Corinne was smiling. The groom was smiling. Even the minister was smiling. Mark... ?
I craned my neck, much as a lot of the other women were doing. But where they were doing it to get a better look at the dress, or trying to figure out why such a vivacious woman was marrying a man who was a bit older and much more dour than she was, I was reaching to get a glimpse of Mark’s face.
And when I suddenly caught it, it took only a second for my mood to descend back to Earth. Other than my asinine brother, who was silently sobbing beside me, Mark was the only one in the church who didn’t seem to be happy.
His face was somber and in that fraction of a second, I clearly saw him wipe away the beginning of a tear.
I pushed my way out of the pew and into the aisle. Fuck other people’s view. Fuck people trying to get a picture. I moved until I clearly saw Mark’s face. And suddenly, it was there. I had a perfect view and we made eye contact.
It nearly killed me. The man I still loved was miserable. And it had nothing to do with the wedding or Corinne. In that one glance, I learned everything I needed to know.
In that fraction of a second, our connection was returned, and I got a partial understanding of exactly how badly he was hurting. It had been six months ... it had been a little more than twenty-four weeks. It had been one hundred and eighty-three days ... but for him it was still a raw and open wound.
In fact, seeing me ... locking eyes with me ... had come far too soon. Corinne’s attempt to hurt my brother and embarrass me, had been successful, but its success carried a heavy price.
And the distress on her face as Mark slumped beside her, as if hit with an emotional sledgehammer told her the whole story.
It hit me even harder because as our eyes had linked, I hadn’t been limited to just seeing how badly hurt he was, as Corinne did. I felt it. Mark and I had loved each other so fiercely that we ... we were that disgusting couple that couldn’t be away from each other for more than a few minutes. We finished each other’s sentences, and blurted out the same things.
We always knew and felt what the other was feeling and in that instance of connection, I suddenly understood and felt some of the devastation that I had wrought.
My brother had been right. The whole time, I had only thought about how everything had affected ME. Since the very second that Mark had walked out on me ... through two very quick divorces ... their ninety day waiting periods ... a pregnancy and uhm ... miscarriage ... I had only thought about myself.
But the look of pain on Mark’s face as he stood there, in front of the crowd ... doing his God damnedest to appear normal, hit me like a lead pipe.
His pain was there for everyone to see. It was as if he’d stepped up there in front of everyone as naked as a jaybird and it was all MY fault.
I suddenly felt light headed and grabbed the edge of the pew for support. I snatched my eyes away from Mark’s and he turned back to look at Corinne.
She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew something was amiss. She squeezed his hand and he tried to force a smile.
The man who was the happiest person I’d ever known, had to FORCE a smile.
I felt my knees buckle and I reached for my brother. He turned to me and I vomited the entire contents of my digestive tract all over him.
“What the fuck, Darleen!” he roared in outrage. But I barely registered his shock as the floor came up to meet me.
The first thing I remember as I regained consciousness, was something cool on my head. My first thought was that whatever it was would ruin my hairdo, if it was wet.
I reached for it and found that it was. I opened my eyes and saw the smiling face of an older man. He was gently pressing a cloth to my forehead.
“She’s coming out of it,” he said. I couldn’t tell who he said it to, but his voice was very kind. He looked like Edward James Olmos ... Battle star Galactica Edward James Olmos, not Blade Runner Edward James Olmos.
I was lying on a couch in a large room. Everything around me slowly came into focus. To my left at a washroom sink, Ed was trying to blot the vomit from his suitcoat, shirt and tie.
“Fucking Bitch,” he growled. “FUCKING BIIIIIIIIIITTCCHHHHH! All of that empty space around us and she has to ralph on my ONLY God damned suit!”
I was trying not to laugh when a shadow passed over me. I looked up in shock when I saw it was Corinne.
“You are amazing!” she said. “You must’ve hurled a gallon of chum on Ed, but somehow there’s not a drop on your dress ... Or even your shoes.”
She handed me a glass of something clear and fizzy.
“Swish this around in your mouth and then suck on these,” she said handing me a couple of breath mints.
The liquid in the cup tasted like Sprite.
“I saw what happened,” she said. “There I was, minding my own business ... Just trying to get married ... and there you were. It was the oddest thing. You took one look at Mark’s face and something passed between you two.
I used to be jealous of what the two of you had. It was magic. I have never in my life had anything that intense. Ed and I ... we were married and have two kids, but we weren’t ever CLOSE to that.
That intensity has destroyed both of you.
Mark ... he’s a ball of emotions. I thought he was getting better, but he’s clearly NOT.
And you ... that’s a completely different level. You saw the pain in his face and it made you sick. You were like a fountain. That was an incredible display of projectile vomiting.
And suddenly I realized something. I’ve spent the last six months torturing my ex-husband while Mark and I propped each other up. But I have never spoken to you about this.
You and I used to be very close. We were almost like sisters ... well it was kind of hard to be close to you. I mean the only person you ever saw was Mark.
So, I’d like to hear ... why the fuck you did this. But not now ... I have a wedding to get back to. Call me, okay?” I nodded, and she headed for the stairwell in the corner.
“Coming father?” she said to Edward James Olmos. He nodded and then I realized that he was the priest who’d been conducting the ceremony.
“Get your ass back in your seat, Ed,” she said.
“But my jacket is ruined,” he whined. “My shirt has orange and yellow vomit all over it ... and I smell like some animal’s hind quarters.”
She took one look at him and he headed up the stairs, but not before I saw the satisfied little smile she had on her face.
Over the next five days I thought a lot about that look and about her curiosity concerning my motivations. I concluded that Corinne was probably the best chance I had of getting to at least talk to Mark.
So, I called her and was surprised to find out that she was at home.
“Short honeymoon?” I asked.
“No honeymoon,” she said. “Elliot and I aren’t that kind of couple.” It was kind of an odd statement, but I let it go.
A couple of hours later I was sitting across a table from her in a very nice house.
“Why?” she asked me as soon as I sat down.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “I have nothing but time.”
“Growing up, I always thought that we were a typical family,” I began. “I had no idea exactly how wrong I was. We all had our kinks. They just didn’t show on the surface.”
“I always thought you guys were the perfect family,” she said. “You seemed perfect to me. Your dad was rock solid. Your mom was beautiful. I always wished that I could be like her. You were her spitting image and Ed was...” her face turned angry as she remembered my brother.
“That’s just it,” I continued. “We SEEMED that way. My mom was a closeted alcoholic. My dad was a repressed nudist, who was in love with another woman and...”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” she gasped.
“It’s true,” I said. “I had inklings of it when I was younger, but no one ever told me anything about it until much later.
But as a child I found old pictures ... it was always the pictures. I saw my father living in a picture, squinting in the Michigan sun. Caught forever in his blouse and knickers wasn’t he the lucky one.
It was finding that picture that started it all and in a way the pictures became my personal kink. After seeing that picture, I had to know all about it. So, I asked my granny and she told me how when she was younger my dad’s entire family used to go to a nudist resort every summer.
They’d run around naked in the sun and have a great time. After they got used to it, it was no big deal. The picture I’d found was of my dad when he was a kid and was gradually shedding his clothes. By that time, he felt so comfortable running around in his underwear that he let someone take a picture of him that way.
A few weeks later he’d shed all of his clothes and in time grew to love being naked in nature.”
“Ed never told me any of that,” she said. “And he never asked me to go to a nudist camp or resort.”
“I don’t think Ed knows anything about it,” I told her. “Dad gave all of that up when he married Mom.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Mom’s family were kind of prudish,” I said.
“But your mom was so beautiful,” she said. “She was thin, like you and had those incredible boobs, like yours and...”
“Corinne ... I’d switch bodies with you in a heartbeat,” I said. “You at least get the choice. In the genetics sweepstakes, I lost.”
She laughed at me. “Darleen, I can’t think of a single woman who wouldn’t want to be you or at least look like you,” she laughed.
“Corinne, we fade,” I said. “And we fade very quickly and really badly. When I’m older I’ll have back problems from trying to hold these boobs up. And they’re nowhere near as big as yours, they just seem bigger because my frame is so small.
And where your boobs are firm, mine are fluffy so they’re gonna flatten out and become saggy, wrinkled banana tits, hanging down to my waist. You’ll be one of those old ladies with a big butt and big tits. I’ll look like a shrunken skeleton.
And you have a choice. You can eat right and keep your weight down. If you do, you’ll always look good. By the time my mom was fifty, she had sallow skin, knobby knees, and those boobs you seemed to like were so deflated that she looked flat chested.
And if you were forced to see her naked, you just saw bones jutting out at odd places. I’d rather be you.”
“But your father still loved her,” she said. “I’d give anything to be loved like that.”
“Another illusion,” I said sadly. “My father never loved her ... at least not the way everyone thinks. They more or less cohabitated. I mean they gave it a damned good try. I’m the living, breathing proof of that. But in this day and age, they probably wouldn’t have gotten married.”
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“She trapped him,” I said. “She did it on purpose. And her guilt over it sucked the life out of her and turned her into an alcoholic.”
“That can’t be ... how did she... ?” she stuttered.
“She met my dad and fell ass over tea kettle,” I said. “She wasn’t used to men not wanting her badly, so she assumed that he felt the same way. Once she discovered that he felt more casually about things ... she somehow managed to get pregnant with Ed.
Back then, there was only one way out of a situation like that ... he married her. She always felt that over time, he’d come to feel the same way about her that she felt about him.
And my dad was a good guy. He stayed with her until ... well until the end. He never cheated on her ... even with ... well ... by the time he was free ... it was too late ... in more ways than one.”
“Whoa!” she gasped. “What the fuck! How do you... ?”
“Once again, the story is all in the pictures and the questions you ask once you’ve found them,” I said. “I saw a picture hidden in the bedroom, underneath father’s ties. A beautiful woman caught naked forever, a black strip over her eyes. I still remember that picture. The image sits sharp and clear. And I’ll never erase that eyeless face, still smiling all these years.”
“So, you found a naked picture of your mom, when she was younger?” she asked. “How does that factor in?”
“My mom wasn’t the woman in the picture,” I said. “The woman in the picture was my dad’s first love. She was the woman he’d always planned on marrying. Her family were nudists just like my dad’s. They always met up at the camp, every year from the time they were like ten years old. But that year, she’d gotten behind in her studies at college and had to attend classes for most of the summer. She also had a job, so they were only going to have the last few weeks of the summer together.
My dad was bummed out about it and he met my mom that summer. You already know how that ended. But the thing is ... my dad NEVER got over the woman in that picture.
That one picture affected so many lives. A few months after my mom passed away in that memory care facility, my dad died too. I can still remember when we found him. That picture was right next to him on his deathbed.
I made sure that it was buried in his casket with him. If there is a life after this one, I’m sure the two of them are together now.”
“Wait ... Is she?” she asked.
“From what I was able to find out, she never married,” I said. “She was killed in a car-wreck, years before my mom went nuts ... so many unhappy people...” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Anyway, those two pictures had a really bizarre effect on me. Even in my late teens, people always told me that I was the spitting image of my mother. I never wanted to end up the way she did.”
“Was it really that bad?” asked Corinne. “I mean I keep thinking how beautiful your mom was and ... I’d have given...”
“Corinne ... the prettiest flowers fade the fastest,” I said. “Would you rather have a few years of looking really pretty, followed by a rapid decline into physical infirmity and alcohol induced dementia ... or have what you and Ed had ... or maybe what you and your new husband can have?”
Even as I spoke I watched her. Her face revealed a lot.
“So anyway,” she said without answering my question. “What does all of this have to do with...”
“How I fucked up my life?” I said. “It’s background that hopefully helps you understand what happened.” She nodded, and I began telling her the story again.
“So, like I said, I grew up obsessed with those pictures. Nobody, not even my granny knew about how they’d affected me. By my late teens, I was so obsessed that...”
“So, you Uhm ... pleasured yourself with those pictures... ?” she asked.
“Oh God no!” I spat. “But the pictures seemed to be my way out of the hell I’d been born and locked into.
I wanted to be as happy as my dad and that woman were in the pictures. I figured out that both of them were happy when the pictures were taken because they were both truly and deeply in love.
At the same time, I didn’t have any choice when it came to genetics. Maybe I wouldn’t become a drunk, like my mom did. And maybe it was the alcohol that caused her dementia. But even so, I’m destined to be a faded flower.
Corinne, I want you to do something for me,” I said.
“Okay...” she said tentatively.
“Feel your thigh. Give it a good squeeze,” I told her.
She gripped her leg and looked at me.
“Now do the exact same thing to mine,” I said. She looked at me like I was crazy.
“Corinne, we’re both straight,” I said. “There’s nothing sexual about this. Don’t make it weird.”
She gingerly grabbed my leg. She squeezed it and then looked at me.
“It’s...” she was at a loss for words. “Less substantial than mine. You’re just skin and bones.”
“Now touch your breast and tell me what you feel,” I said.
Her hand touched her breast. “it feels jiggly,” she laughed. “it feels like a balloon filled with Jell-o.” I grabbed her hand and put it on my breast. Her eyes got huge.
“Again ... don’t make this weird,” I said.
“It’s softer,” she said. “it feels like the balloon is filled with water instead of Jell-o. And maybe like ... It’s not full.”
“And every year they’ll be LESS full, until they’re flat and sagging onto my stomach,” I said. “So, think about it, since my teens I’ve become obsessed with two things, the first was finding a man that I would love so much that I’d be as happy as my dad was in that picture and having him feel the same way about me ... and the...”
“But you had that!” she hissed angrily. “Everyone I know was jealous of you two! I still don’t understand why you pissed it all away!”
“And the second obsession was trying to hold off the ravages of time and my fading beauty. But if I couldn’t do that ... and it seems likely that I won’t ... I wanted to capture myself at the peak of my attractiveness, the way my dad and his true love did. I guess I wanted a picture of myself at my best, so I could show my kids and remind Mark of how pretty I once was.”
“Holy Fuck!” she laughed, slapping herself in the forehead. “I’m beginning to understand some of it. So that’s why you became a God damned selfie queen! And we all thought that you were just vain.”
“No, Corinne,” I said sadly. “I thought that when Mark became a distinguished and handsome old man and people wondered why he married that doddering old skeleton, I could whip out the pictures and show them.”
“You’re silly, Darleen,” she laughed. “If they’d just ask him ... or simply took one look at him ... they’d know he married that doddering old skeleton because he loved her with all of his heart. Anyone who took one look at the two of you could see that.”
“So anyway, Mark had to go out of town on business,” I continued. “When we first got married, I always went with him. But as time went on, I couldn’t get away and go as often and there were a couple of other reasons. The first was that his business trips were boring as hell. The second reason was far more practical.
When Mark travelled for business, he was working. When I went with him, I had to take vacation time from MY job. So, when vacation time rolled around, we couldn’t go anywhere because I wouldn’t have any vacation time left. So instead of going to Cleveland or Pawtucket, with Mark for his job, it just made more sense to go to Hawaii or Fiji, with Mark on a real vacation.
So, when Mark had to go to Benton ... that’s in Arkansas ... I stayed home. And Ed dropped by with your kids to try to get me to babysit them, so he could go bowling.”
“That asshole!” she said.
“It was no big deal,” I said. “I love my niece and nephew. Anyway, when he dropped by, I was sorting through my pictures and Ed knew about my obsession. Like you, he thought it was just vanity until I told him about Dad’s pictures. That was when he came up with the idea of duplicating that woman’s photo. But with me in the same pose.
He even suggested masking a black strip over my eyes, but also keeping a few without it. As soon as he came up with the idea, I loved it. It got me so charged up that I felt a buzz almost as if I was drunk.
I quickly came down from the high though, because there was no fucking way I was going to get naked in front of a photographer.
But again, Ed had the perfect solution. He could take the photos for me. And we could give them to Mark as an anniversary present ... you know, like those Boudoir photos that women were doing a few years ago?
I felt weird about it, but charged up at the same time. I always figured that if the pictures weren’t any good, I’d just delete them, but if they were decent ... not only would I have my own eyeless photo to duplicate the one I was obsessed with, I’d have the perfect photo to capture myself at the peak of my attractiveness AND a nice present for the love of my life.
It was a win/win/win situation.
We decided to shoot the photos the next day. I decided on two backdrops. The first would be against a stark, white wall, like the woman in my dad’s photo. The other setting would be strictly for Mark. We’d take a set of shots in our garage in front of his spoiled ass Mustang. I got almost horny thinking about how much he would love those photos.
He would go insane. The two things he loved the most, me and that fucking car together all spread out for his eyes only. And the more I thought about it, the better the idea seemed. His Mustang’s glass black paint job as the perfect backdrop for my pale white skin.
I imagined him grabbing me up and running me out to the garage and fucking me like crazy on the hood his car, while I pretended not to like it.
I know I sound vain, but Corinne, I was a woman in love and one who was afraid of her beauty rapidly fading away before my husband’s eyes. I wanted to capture that beauty before it was gone.
No one was ever going to see the pictures except for Mark and me, so I didn’t see any harm in it.
Anyway, that morning, I felt weird. At the time, I thought it was just the excitement ... after all, much more than all the stupid selfies I took of myself at parks or parties, this was the culmination of a lifetime wish.
I was surprised that I’d never come up with the idea before. But now, I know that what I felt wasn’t excitement, it wasn’t just nervousness about how the pictures would turn out, it a warning. Something deep inside of me was telling me not to do it. Unfortunately, I misread the signals.
Ed showed up, late as usual. And he brought his digital SLR camera. He also brought a bottle of that peach brandy you guys like. He was as eager to get started as I was.
For some reason, he seemed to be really into it. I know how sneaky my brother can be, so I asked him what was up.
I had to pry it out of him, but I finally found out that if the pictures turned out decent, Ed was going to offer his services to other women we knew ... but he was going to charge them money to do it.
He’d gone on the internet and found out that sessions like ours could earn him $150 to $200. And since he already owned the camera, and the memory cards, which unlike film, could be used over and over again, it would cost him next to nothing. Even if the woman wanted to keep the memory card with her photos on it, Ed could make money from selling the cards too. SD cards are really cheap these days. So, Ed was hoping the photos were good as well.
He wanted a few samples that weren’t very risqué to use to promote his service.
“Darleen, as pretty as you are, a lot of women would be willing to pay to have pictures like those taken. You’re a natural model,” he told me.
My nervousness, waned as Ed continued to flatter me. Most women enjoy hearing that they look good, and heading it from my own brother was surprising. I’d never suspected that Ed found me attractive.
I thought that because of us being siblings and growing up together, we both thought of each other as furniture. I was no more sexually attracted to Ed than I was to the tree in my parents’ backyard. If Ed and I were the last two fertile humans on the planet, humans wouldn’t survive.
We took a few test shots and I have to say that the nervousness came back. Even though they were just shots with me standing against the blank wall, fully clothed, I knew what was at stake.
Those test shots were awful. In my cherished photos, both the one with my father and even more so in his lady love’s, their ease at being naked or near naked and their joy and love was apparent. I looked nervous and stiff in comparison. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
There’s a reason that professional models get paid so much. A big part of their skillset, has nothing to do with their looks, it’s their ability to appear natural and comfortable on camera. Apparently, as pretty as everyone seems to think I am, I don’t really have that.
After about fifty shots, Ed suggested that we take a break and try to just relax. He gave me a glass of the Brandy and brought out a joint of some really strong weed. I hadn’t smoked since my college days, but I remembered that it used to relax me. I somehow forgot that it used to make me so horny that I practically raped Mark.
The combination of the weed and that strong ass Brandy relaxed the hell out of me.
I felt really good. I was grinning from ear to ear. Ed asked me if I was ready to take the car pictures. I remember telling him to fuck the car pictures, I was ready to take the naked pictures, before I lost my nerve.
Truthfully, I was feeling very warm. I just wanted to get out of my clothes. I felt perfectly at ease. It seemed as natural as going to the beach in a swimsuit.
Ed fluffed and arranged my hair. We took a few shots. He made a face.
“What?” I asked. He told me that my boobs were a lot bigger than the woman in the picture’s, but they looked ... he stopped talking.
“What?” I asked again.
“As I remember it,” he began. “That woman looked hot. She had a big smile and her nipples were popped out and yours are ... well ... not.”
I started shaking my boobs nothing worked. Ed suggested taking a break. We hit his joint again and I had another glass of Brandy and I was even more excited. I was so excited that I could barely walk.
Ed came over to fluff my hair again, and his hands trailed down my neck and tapped my boobs. I remember laughing, because everything seemed funny.
I guess he noticed that I hadn’t gotten upset about him touching them.
“How does Mark get you excited?” he asked.
“By being in the room with me,” I laughed.
“What about on those days when you really don’t want to do anything?” he asked. “You know ... if you’re not in the mood?”
“I’m always in the mood,” I told him. “Like if he wakes me up and I really want to sleep, though ... he just ... well he ... ooh ... he sucks my titties and I just...”
“I’ll try anything to make this work,” he said. And he grabbed both of my boobs.
“Not like that,” I laughed. “Do it like you always do. Do it softly ... like they’re yours and you don’t want to break them.” I was laughing the whole time.
I think I was at least legally drunk and the lines of who was sucking my boobs were kind of blurred. Shit, I was also very high. It was that dangerous, nearly fatal combination of high and drunk. I think they call it HUNK ... or maybe DRIGH.
I was going in and out of consciousness and when I regained enough of my senses to be aware of my surroundings and what was happening, I was shocked. Ed was on top of me, fucking me for all he was worth. I couldn’t believe my own brother was thrusting himself in and out of me. It was surreal. For a moment I thought I was dreaming.
Somehow, instead of pushing him off me, I wondered why he was doing it. I laughed. I guess the weed made everything seem funny. I think I blacked out again because the next thing I knew he had flipped me over and was attacking my pussy from behind.
I was lying on my stomach with my legs spread really wide. Ed was between them, lifting me by my hip bones and really slamming it to me. I wondered again why he wasn’t as grossed out by what he was doing as I was.
At the same time, the contact and the stimulation had my body on the verge of betraying me. It wasn’t as good or nearly as loving as what I got from Mark. But I was close to the edge and there are no bad orgasms.
“Ed, stop it,” I whined.
“Just let me cum one more time,” he rasped. His voice had an edge of desperation in it.
I looked around and noticed that it was dark outside, I wondered how long he’d been fucking me. As I thought about it I realized that I was kind of sore.
“Ed did you already cum?” I asked.
“Twice,” he grunted, but he showed no sign of stopping. If anything, he sped up.
“Hurry up,” I said, as I felt the first stirrings in my tummy. For no other reason than to get him off me, I started pressing my ass back against him. It began to feel even better.
In a moment of lucidity, I asked him a question. “Ed those other two times ... did you cum inside of me?”
“Of course,” he grunted. “This isn’t a porno. Where else would I... ? You’re on the pill, right? I’ve heard you and Corinne talking about it.”
“I stopped taking them,” I grunted. My voice was coming out in gasps and wheezes as our bodies slammed together.
There was something extremely nasty about what we were doing. All the taboos and moral laws against it just turned me on more. My pussy was on fire. But the heat wasn’t a warming, self-sustaining fire like love brings. It was a self-destructive conflagration that eradicates everything good in its path.