If your lover is also your brother or your sister there are usually things that you cannot do that most folks take for granted. You probably can’t talk to your family about your love life. You might even be living a double life, with friends and acquaintances who know that you are a couple, but who don’t know that you are related to each other.
I know a woman who has been in a monogamous relationship with her brother for thirty years. Together, they raised their two children created through the gift of donated sperm. One child is now an investment banker and the other is a medical resident. Their uninvolved third sibling has been married and divorced four times, but their parents see them as the ones being unable to form interpersonal relationships.
I know of these people like myself; people who have had long lasting romantic and sexual relationships with their siblings because I am in a support group for people in our situation. Eva, one of my lovers and an ordained minister told me about it. She is wise, and attentive. I really needed something to do with the exasperation I felt after we somewhat involuntarily sold our successful business.
This organization has several of us ‘old hats;’ people who have long lasting stable relationships with their siblings. We have volunteered to correspond with members who mostly just need someone to communicate with so they don’t feel all alone. It was just what I needed after being forced to retire from a job I loved, was very good at and had been doing since 1980. Mandatory retirement they called it. Being put out on the ice flow I called it.
What did Neil Young say in ‘Crime in the City.’
“Then I grew up to be a fireman, put out every fire in town.
Put out anythin’ smokin,’ but then I put the hose down.
The Judge sent me to prison, gave me life without parole.
Wish I never put the hose down, wish I never got old.”
The problem was simple, sixty-three was not old. I wasn’t old, I was experienced. Don’t you want the person flying your airplane to be experienced. I am in excellent health, better than many decades younger than me. I regularly beat the asses of cyclists that are twenty years younger than me out on the trail.
I wanted to get in the Embraer and go fly Willie Nelson around on his next concert tour, having him call me a “young’un” in reference to his near quarter century on me. Social Security says I will live another twenty-one years. Mom and dad are in their nineties, so my money is on the over.
I had recently received been engaged in communication with a young woman that Pastor Lemieux had spoken to. Cheryl had been a gawky teenager. Tall and thin, but unathletic. She was smart and a good student graduating a full year early from high school in Cavelier, a small town ninety minutes to the north of Houston.
Being only seventeen, her parents convinced her to go to college at Rice University where her twin brothers were students in the engineering program. After a year of living in freshman dorms the three siblings got an apartment together just off campus. Her brothers Kenneth and Calvin were as geeky and gawky and unathletic as Cheryl was, and almost as smart.
They were, each of them, at the top of their academic classes and at the bottom of the school’s social hierarchy. They even had nearly the same prescription for their respective corrective lenses. They were not each other’s firsts. Her brothers had a few opportunities with college girls smart enough to handicap them as being big earners once they had his degrees in hand.
As smart as those girls were, her brothers were smarter; Ken, he wasn’t on the varsity squad but he knew their game plan. He played so long as it was on a free trial basis. Cal did not even play the game after trying it a couple times and being disappointed with the results. He wanted something real.
Cheryl on the other hand was a vagina in college. Well, at least that’s the way her dates made her feel. Cheryl wanted true love; not just friction with boys who couldn’t recall her name or phone number five minutes or three days after the deed was done. After commiserating with Ken and Cal one weekend they tried something new.
She thought that she had found a true and all encompassing love in that little apartment on Shakespeare Street south of campus. With the two boys who had been a couple of her best friends for over a decade. She wondered if forever was possible and sustainable.
“Lisa,” she typed.
“This is the best thing that I have ever known in my life. But I am afraid that it cannot last. Is it really possible. Pastor Lemieux said you have been with your brothers for decades. How do you do it. What if anything did you have to give up. Are you three really, truly happy together decades later?”
“Darling Child,” I typed.
“Grandma has six wonderful lovers who take care of her very well, George, Punch, Eva, Kristin, Lillian and Jamie. We have been a polyamourous group of seven since nineteen-seventy-eight.
“Friday evening Kristin made a big pot of Fra Diavolo Mullusco, Devil Monk Muscles. Gulf clams stewed in white wine with fennel, shallots and crushed red pepper. We sat outside on a big wooden deck overlooking Galveston Bay. We ate bowls of those delicious clams and we drank a couple of bottles of Barbera, an Italian style wine from the Rio Grande Valley.
“We sat together on Adirondacks in the dark moonlit night looking at the lights of that moon, other nearby houses, and the city of Galveston across the bay reflected on the water. We talked, we joked, we shared each other’s company.
“It was hot out there, but not as hot as it had been earlier. Not as hot as it would be in the bedroom when we retired later. We had the air conditioner on, and we did sweat. The sweat that we made upon our silky sheets was a sweat born of passion. The passion that one feels making love with someone that you have known for just about your entire life.
“I was eating the beautiful fragrant, delicious pussy of my lover Eva. The girl whom I read Bible stories with when we were but six and seven years old sitting in her father’s study. The beautiful Pastor who will have my saliva on her body, as she stands, naked but for her frock and her vestments when she delivers a sermon in church tomorrow.
“I was having my pussy eaten by the girl, the beautiful woman, who was my good friend for years before she just started living with me in about sixty-seven. The girl that George, my sweet loving brother, made a bed for; four years before I made love with her in that bed.
“My lover Jamie, the first person that I was ever intimate with. The loving mother whom I raised both of our children with. That wonderful girl whom after so very many years together with, I was finally able to be legally recognised as the spouse of. Our children being adults themselves when that ceremony took place.
“Having my wonderful big brother, who took such very good care of me and my little brothers growing up ... The first and only boy I ever seduced ... George, the very first boy I ever made love to way back in time, forty-five years ago ... Having that oh, so delicious part of my big brother residing in its second home, inside of me...
“He was in my butt and pushing away; stimulating me and making me cream and gush and come as Punch’s hard, yet soft and pliable most sensitive part was working it’s magic in my throat. My Punch who treated me so nice when I was an annoying kid; back when we hung around the little grass-strip airport back home.
“The kind, patient boy who taught me to fly in his dad’s little airplane, a three-seat Stinson. My wonderful lover Punch who fathered my child. Punch the only other boy I have ever fucked in my sixty-three years. Punch was working his magic wand inside of me, alternately fucking my tonsils and withdrawing to permit me to breathe.
“My beautiful lover Kristin, the world best cook, my brother’s wife. The mother with Jamie of his children. Last night in a twist it was the cook that my tongue was savoring the delicious flavor of as I fisted her to multiple orgasms, her lovely aroma filling the air in that most holy of places.
“My sweet Lillian, my classmate and friend with whom I have flown so very many hours. Across the United States, throughout Latin America and the Caribbean, across the ocean to Europe. After my boys spit-roasted me, Lillian had her hand inside of me, churning my natural lubricant into a sexy aromatic froth as she pumped out a couple more orgasms.
“We are resting and enjoying each other’s company this Saturday evening. We had homegrown tomatoes sliced thick and grilled sitting atop a few slices of thick cut bacon on a Texas sized slice of seven-grain bread. A big piece of sharp cheddar was melted atop it all. Then a nice fresh pale green lettuce leaf was pressed into the molten yellow cheese as it emerged from the broiler. We drank bottles of Shiner Blond.
“We will retire early this night so no orgasms are on the schedule for today. Even the Good Lord rested one day during the week. We may not have parties every night like we did back when we were your age, but we have learned much in four decades. We know each other as if we are a part of each other because we are truly a part of each other.
“We know what each other enjoy and treasure and live for. We pay attention to our lovers, we are theirs and they are ours. The years have made us one flesh and one body.
“We will get up early tomorrow, Sunday morning, and we will give one another several blessed orgasms. Together we will make love, and together we will shower and prepare for church. We will travel together to the J. E. Moore Mission where six of us will sit together and listen to Eva deliver her sermon.