Chapter 2: New York, Summer 1985

My sister, simply Mary then, was born six years before me, and was probably more surprised by my sudden appearance than my father. Dad was sixty when I was born, and greeted the son he had given up hoping for, a son who could carry on the proud tradition of the New York Browns, with jubilation.

In one day Mary went from being the only child of a wealthy family, an always spoiled girl who had been the most important person in the Brown household, into almost an afterthought, the arrival of the male scion completely superseding her, even though she was the elder.

She must have loved me at first, what small six year old girl could possibly not love a baby brother? But as the years passed resentment grew, and although I didn't recognize it at the time, I know now that I induced in her incredibly strong emotions, a love/hate pendulum that threatened her happiness.

When I was ten, eleven, twelve, she would often wrestle with me as we played, and looking back I can still see the joy in her eyes as her sixteen or seventeen year old body sat astride me, forcing me down, hurting me just enough to get me to cry and beg for mercy.

I have no memories of any sexual association with these games; at that age I was still too young to harbor even the remotest interest in sex. But now I guess that Mary must have somehow received some sado-erotic pleasure in subduing her little brother, probably some early stirrings of the two sided sexual person she was destined to become.

When I was twelve Mary started first year medicine at NYU and with her living in residence for her first three years we grew apart, our childish games left behind. And when she moved back home after third year, half-way to her medical degree, a twenty-one year old woman, she found not the boy she remembered cowing before her, but an almost-man.

At fifteen, I had grown to 5'10", three inches taller than Mary, and although still thin, had a wiry strength that easily eclipsed hers. And so, during those next three years, Mary changed tactics, ostensibly kind and charming to me when in the presence of others, but often mean and verbally harassing when in private.

When I finally discovered girls and started dating in my sophomore year, her attacks all of a sudden became increasingly shrill. She hated the ease I had with the opposite sex, and would invariably criticize any date I brought home.

It was that year when I recognized that there was something wrong with Mary, that I realized that this twenty-one year old beautiful woman, and she was beautiful, even her brother could recognize the sexual delights that awaited someone behind every curve of her lush body, had sexual problems.

"Why don't you ever go out with men?" I learned to reply to her constant criticism of me and my dates. "Don't tell me you're still a virgin?" I'd laugh at her.

"She's just a slut, a dirty little slut," she'd rage back.

"Lesbian!"

"Fuck you Peter, fuck you," she'd cry.

Only once that year did we actually physically battle, and as I easily rode atop her thrashing, struggling body, taunted, "Some day a man's going to come along and make you his slave Mary, make you grovel at his feet, how do you think you'll like it Mary, obeying a strong male..."

"Never," she screamed, "I'll never let a man control me. I'm strong, I'm liberated! Never!"

But I just laughed as I got off her and could see the fear, the excitement, the yearning in her eyes as she lay looking up at me.

In her last year at NYU, while I was seventeen and in last year high school, Mary all of a sudden found a man, or at least a male member of the human species. Jacques Tremblay, a fellow student in medicine, a Frenchman, all of a sudden started appearing at our house, and during Easter of their final year they announced to Dad and Mom their plans to get married in late July and then move to France to live and practice medicine.

"Are you crazy?" I demanded one day soon after their announcement, "Mary, he's not for you. He'll never satisfy you. He's a"

"Shut up Peter. You're just jealous," she laughed, feeling she had the upper hand. "He's kind and rich and educated and urbane and handsome," she crooned. "And he obeys me. He does what I say Peter, when I say it," she boasted, showing the haughtiness I recognized from our youth.

He was a short, dapper man, maybe 5'5" and one hundred and twenty pounds, and I didn't doubt Mary's words, easily being able to imagine her sitting astride him, disciplining him.

"He's not a man," I howled, "He'll never fill you like you want, like you need."

"He likes it when I spank him," she whispered in my ear, "With a fat leather belt Peter," she finished, a triumphant gloat on her shining face...

Nothing would have happened; the future would have turned out completely different, if she hadn't barged in on me that July day, just two weeks before her wedding. Sally, my current girl, and I were in the backyard, naked after a summer's afternoon swim. When I heard the click of the patio door I was pounding away deeply into Sally's pussy, as she lay bent over the picnic table.

With one hand holding Sally's ponytail and the other wrapped under her stomach, pulling her towards me with each heaving thrust, I looked up and saw Mary watching us, one foot through the door and the other suspended in mid air.

As Sally's deep groans of satisfaction exploded across the yard, I kept watching my Sister, still immobile second after second, her mouth open in an anguished circle, and saw as the black rage suddenly bloomed on her face.

She was on me and pushing me over just as my first strand of cum pumped out and flew in a wild arc upward as I stumbled onto the grass. "You pig," she hissed at me before turning to an astonished Sally, whom she started to pummel as she screamed, "Slut! Cunt! Bitch! Get the fuck out of here," and Sally fled screaming before her blows and words, just grabbing her shorts and top before Mary chased her through the house and out the front door.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I finally managed to yell when Mary reappeared. "What were you fucking thinking?" I raged as I stood up to face her, strands of my cum hanging from my chest and still half-hard cock.