Me and My Brothers — Chapter I

Me and my brothers
By Emerald Green
Chapter I. It Started
I have two half-brothers…one older and one younger. I know what you’re thinking but no my mother is not a slut. She just had a hard time finding a good man. Bobby is my older brother. He was named after his father who we now call Robert (we don’t see him much.) When mommy got pregnant and she told Robert, he just up and disappeared. They weren’t married and Robert thought she was trying to force him into marriage. She did not go home to her parents because she had seen her sister do that and she was determined to survive on her own.
Robert’s buddy, Carl invited my mommy to move in with him, “Just until after the baby is born.” She was having trouble making ends meet but she was afraid that all Carl wanted was sex. They worked at the same place, he in the shop and she in the office, so they saw each other every day. He kept telling her he had an extra room and she was welcome to it. After a month of his offering she finally accepted the invitation. It turned out that all he expected was for her to do most of the house cleaning and some of the cooking.
When she was about six months along they fell into bed with each other. She says, “He became too nice to pass up.” Then about a month after Bobby was born Carl and mom got married. Two days after Bobby’s second birthday I was born. Mommy named me Carlene after my father (Everyone calls me Carly.) I never got to know him because just a few months after I was born he was killed while riding his motorcycle. Lucky for us Carl had a big life insurance policy.
The man I think of as my daddy is named Arthur (Art). Mommy met him about six month after Carl died when he hired on as shop manager where she works. About three months later he asked her to marry him. She made him move in with us to see how he was as a father. They were married two months later and my little brother Donny was born six days after my second birthday and four days after Bobby’s fourth birthday.
Momma and daddy are good parents and what we kids did was not their fault. I want you to know that before I tell you what we did. Don’t get me wrong. We were good kid for the most part. We did good in school. We did not lie or cheat or steel. We did not hurt anyone. None of us have police records.
I remember clear as can be the day the things that I’m going to tell you about started. I was 12½ years old and Bobby and I were in middle school and Donny was still in primary school. Bobby and I got home from school about half an hour before Donny, and momma and daddy would get home about a half hour after that. This day I went straight to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the three of us and Bobby went upstairs to his room. He usually stopped in the family room and played a video game but on this day he seemed unusually silent and had gone to his room. Being the curious person I was I went quietly upstairs and down the hall to listen at his door before calling him for his sandwich. I heard him moan and a soft slap-slap sound. I had no idea what I was hearing. I imagined he was hurting himself so I opened the door to stop him.
I am sure that if you are reading this, you are old enough to know more than I did. Yes what I saw was my brother beating off…masturbating, but I was so innocent or ignorant I did not know what he was doing even after seeing it. I startled him when I asked, “What’re you doing?”
He jumped and tried to cover himself. “Go way!” he said.
“Are you hurting yourself?” I asked.
“No! Go away!” he responded.
“It sounded like you were hurting yourself,” I said.
“Get out of here!” he shouted.
I stepped back and closed his door. I then raised my voice to tell him his sandwich was ready. On my way back to the kitchen I thought that maybe he was just playing with himself but it sure looked and sounded like he was hurting himself.
I had finished my sandwich and had started my homework when he came to get his sandwich. I said, “I’m gonna tell mom and dad you were hurting yourself.”
“I wasn’t hurting myself!” he snapped.
“It sure looked like it,” I insisted.
Raising his voice he shouted, “Carly listen…I wasn’t hurting myself. You don’t need to tell anyone. From now on just stay out of my room.”
“But I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” I pleaded.
“I wasn’t hurting myself. Carly listen…I was playing with myself. You are so dumb. All boys play with themselves,” he shouted.
“That didn’t look like play to me,” I commented.
“You play with yourself the way you want and I’ll play the way I want and don’t you say anything to mom and dad ‘cause they will punish you for coming in my room without being invited.” He went to play his video game.
He was right.