Confession Relationships Sex heartbreak fate

I Made Out With A Guy I Call My Brother: I Don't Know Why He Was Guilty Because I Was Not

( words)
*For representational purpose only.

Fate has a funny way of introducing unexpected events and people in your life. I met him the first time when our parents who were college friends, decided to go for an outing.

Whoever said that first impression is the last impression was too paranoid to give it a second thought. He was an introvert and I didn’t fall for him right then. But Mr. A was like no other.

I began to develop an attraction towards the guy I had disliked an hour ago. He was undoubtedly handsome, like his father. He liked to keep things to himself. I'm an outgoing person. I kept wondering how the rest of the evening would be spent. Our parents had let us be on our own, so we went for a walk.

Eventually, Mr. A began to open up with me once we reached a nearby park. A forced conversation ended up into an intimate chat and storytelling after a couple of hours. I couldn't shut him up.

The topic he was most curious about was my personal life. I hid the fact that I had dumped my ex and was dating my best friend then. I told him that I was in a normal relationship with a guy quite similar to him. He, in turn, kept on rattling about his own relationship. I honestly didn't want to hear but he wouldn't stop. The guy who at first seemed quiet was now telling me the most intimate details.

He told me about making out with his girlfriend. And I secretly felt jealous, looking at him.

I knew that this libido-driven hyperactive romance wouldn't last longer than a year. I've had my own share of relationships, from teenage and high-school romance to serious relationships, to blind dates, no-strings attached, and now a Friends-with-benefits partner. So I was quite experienced. I don't know what drew me towards him that night, maybe the realization that I could never get him. He was extremely loyal to his evidently stupid girlfriend. He was telling me about the names of their future kids. The story finally ended and so did my hopes.

But the most striking factor was that, Mr. A was 18 years old, and I was 21. He was in school while I was in college. If I had to phrase this exactly, he had sister-zoned me even before I could realize it.

We met again at my mom's birthday party. That night made me do something that didn't turn out to be life-changing, but which I can never justify to anyone. The party ended quite late, and some of the guests were asked to stay back. Mr. A's family was one of them. There was definitely shortage of space, but we managed somehow. Our bed is large enough for three people, so my dad, I and Mr. A were to spend the night.

Although I had imagined all the possibilities way earlier in my mind, I knew a supposedly saint like Mr. A wouldn't dare touch me. We talked for a while and then tried to sleep. I slept between him and my dad, who dozed off in no time.

I was half-awake when I felt our palms touching. I pretended to be asleep and didn't move my hand away, because it felt good. Soon, I realized he was deliberately doing it. The next moment, he came closer to me. He touched my hand and then grasped it tightly. I only asked him once what he was doing.

He replied weakly, "I don't know, I don't know." Then he pulled me closer to him, held me and caressed me. By now we had forgotten that we had our own lovers back home and the next moment, we were kissing each other helplessly.

I had tried to stop him, saying "I'm your sister. Don't do this."

He knew I liked it, I wanted it, and so we let go of all barriers and made out. We made out very carefully, without making the slightest of noise or causing any kind of movement that would wake dad up. I can definitely say it was passionate. It was in the morning when we realized what we had done. The first ray of light fell on our bodies glued to each other, and it was then, that we felt distanced.

I guess, he was back to being my 'brother' again. I took him out to the balcony where he broke down into tears. He was definitely guilty, but I wasn't. That's where it hurt.

I wanted him again, but all he cried about was how would he'd face his girlfriend. I figured it was just the testosterone last night, so I decided to help him. Like a big sister, I consoled him, cheered him up, and assured him that it was just a mistake.

It was just our hormones that had gotten the better of us.

Even I had a boyfriend, so we'd better forget it. He seemed to calm down. We went back to bed and slept through the rest of the while. But I'd always remember what that little, immature boy had told me in bed while squeezing me against his well-built torso- "You don't deserve this." I don't know why he had said that. I have never known. Months after that night, his parents came over again, but he didn't. His mother took me alone for a while and told me that she knew about it. I realized that he was just a kid who had broken down before his parents and spilled the beans. He had told them it was 'just kissing' to save us both from being shamed.

Aunt apologized to me on his behalf. I had to act strong and behave like it had affected me too and said, "It's okay, it was just a mistake."

She gave me his number and requested me to call him up in front of her, which I did. We exchanged a few awkward words and hung up. Later, Mr. A sent me quite a lengthy message telling how he had confessed to his girlfriend about that night and she had forgiven him; how they were going strong. How he didn't have anything to do with me ever again. I didn't reply to the message, as it broke my heart. The way he wrote it out seemed like I had forced him to sleep with me. It was as if I was the initiator. After that, we never spoke or saw each other again. Months later, I met his mum at our house. She told me that her son was trying to cope with the breakup with his girlfriend whom he had loved so much. Though I couldn't show it, I went through a range of mixed feelings within, joyful knowing Karma had punished him for what he did to me. I also felt sorry because he was just a kid.

More than a year has passed. As luck would have it, I chanced upon his profile on the 'People you may know' list on Facebook. I randomly added him, and to my utter surprise, he accepted my request at once. I messaged him because I wanted to. "Hope you're doing well.” He replied, "Yes, thank you.”

This was an intriguing part of my memories, unexpected and brief. It has left a permanent impression on me.

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