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You may wonder why I write this confession and put it out for the world to see. You may also believe that I harbor some sinister desire that my beautiful younger sister and I be condemned for our actions or simply find some sympathy amongst the world’s readers. Somehow, the thought that we need forgiveness and despite the horrid life we were forced to accept, that we were somehow immoral in our ultimate decisions is not open for debate. This would be a wrong assumption because frankly, I do not give a damn about what others think when it comes to my relationship with my sister. I do not care what morality that a person holds nor do I care what spiritual mythology that is followed and least of all, I am not interested in any condemnation that may follow.
My sweet nymph of a sister holds a tenderness that I do not possess. There was no one that was actively involved in our salvation. It was simply our personal hell that was our lives and existence. The fact was that no one seemed to care about the torture that we faced in our lives. As such, we owe nothing but to ourselves. We, together, screamed for help that did not come. No other was there for my sweet child of a sister as she faced abuse. Only I was and still am as she was and is there for me. I do not care so much what was done to me; only the tears that my dear sibling shed time after time again were pure acid dissolving my very heart. I fought with all that exists in me to hold my vow to my darling child sister. Mind you my dear reader, both my sister and I believe in God, for me, a much weaker belief, but a merciful and loving Creator, nonetheless, who in His wisdom brought us together forever. We are profoundly happy together and we share our love with all God’s creatures and ones in need. We carry no guilt for our love and dream only of a better tomorrow.
This is a story of pain, love, and survival and ultimately, a union between two like souls that have found a way to be tremendously happy together as only an older brother who is absolutely devoted to his living angel of a sister could be. We share bonds that cannot be replicated with any other human being. That of love on so many levels that no one that has not been there in the pits of battle or the blackness of desolation can completely understand. It is a story of love that transcended simply a brother’s love for his sister and hers for him, a love of two best friends, a love in the face of turmoil and despair, an erotic love, and a love of two people who bonded at such a deep level that they share the same soul. Yes, my little sister is my lover, friend, confidant, my soul-mate, one who shares my past, present, and for all the years we have left, our future.
So much conflict in our hearts has existed in my sister and me. Not a skirmish between the love that possessed us but the agonizing destruction that rained upon her sweet and gentle ambiance. She has always believed in a Higher Power, a God, ikitelli escort and a Spirit that cares for us no matter what the horror that is inflicted upon us. I do not necessarily share my sweet sister’s viewpoint completely but I have to wonder of the existence of her soul, if perhaps worthiness is the exclusive ticket to heaven, then that transcendental channel has been uniquely passed onto my sister and others like her. As earlier stated, I at least operate out of a hope in a Glorified Entity that honestly, I do not understand but am willing to accept. Without my sweet child of a younger sister, I would already be dead leaving waste and destruction in my wake.
Of course, if Sissy is right, which she usually is, coupled with the intelligence that she possesses not to mention a deep abiding faith, I think that there would be better than a fair chance of a face to face with St. Michael and the arguments that would ensue, particularly from my sister, would mean that I had a reasonable chance of actually entering Eternity even if it meant the best I could do was mop Heaven’s floors. I would gladly swill out toilets forever if so that my sweet child would never have to listen to crappy albums while being damned to sleep with old 70’s porn stars. I would fondly embrace my eternal suffering, especially, if it is simply being a shit collector of angelic poo while knowing my sister was safe and happy. In the event I do a good job in my otherworldly existence, I have to believe that the reward is making love to my sister and an eternity with my beloved. The labor I must perform as a penance to be with my angel is easily something I can accept. Like I said, eternal salvation is my sweet little angel’s beliefs. I think that at times there is nothing but oblivion and extinction but honestly, I hope I am wrong. My faith tends to return anytime I am within earshot of my sweet baby girl. My little sister would risk eternal hellfire than ever leave her brother for a minute even though I have killed. Yes, I have killed. The nightmare of that day will haunt me forever.
My dear sister asked me to write our story with her blessings in hopes that it will reach the few who have wondered if they are alone in their affections for one another and as a cathartic exercise for me. At first, I was hesitant but as with all things with my sister, I just cannot deny my sweet sibling. It is my sister’s wish that we, as one voice, collectively stand against evil in this world and allow love to triumph in its many differing aspects. Our story is set in a timeframe that already has happened for the two of us. Although time slowly marches on changing the hopes, aspirations, and dreams for most while revealing their individual follies, our lives are locked in time, our love unchanging, when our love finally was realized and we became as one.
Ashley is two years younger than I. Today, I am istanbul escort 28 and she is 26. Yet, we have shared all her 26 years together being inseparable from time that she was born. A quarter of a century of love shared between two people with the hopes that the both of us will have an eternity more together. I have come to believe that my first two years of life were spent simply waiting for her spirit to manifest itself on Earth, and if not, then there is still something unexplainable that I do not yet understand. Her influence over my belief system is more than profound. I am the first-born and I have to wonder despite my doubts if our love did not start in the hands of Providence long before we adopted these mortal coils we wear today. I do know that I absolutely do not have any earlier memories, that my entire being came into existence, my acceptance of linear time and history started the day my muse, my reason to exist, came into being with her birth. I have never been with another woman, nor do I wish to be, for I have already found the one who has captured my heart as I hers with a contentment that few understand.
To describe Ashley today is to describe a wonderfully radiant and beautiful woman. When she enters a room, the air becomes fragrant with her unique scent that belies her seductive nature, the ambient light seems to become softer, the music of the day more enchanting, and she causes others to reach out with the gentle stirrings of their own souls. Her humor and smile are incredibly infectious as is her kindness. She causes all that come in contact with her to somehow desire to be better people and she passes that lovely attribute onto others. Despite the torrid events of her life, she neither condemns nor passes judgment even though it would be understandable if she did. She carries no hatred, no animosity, no evil thought in her heart. My sweet darling baby of a sister has an evolved sense of love that only sees and hears a sweet song in the wind. She describes our love as a man and woman separated by an ocean and yet both hear the music of each other’s soul driving inexplicably closer, that the waves of the waters are willed by the fury of love’s young heart. My dear little girl sleeps every night in our bed and while horror tried to rip us apart, her very own belief in our existence, our love, no matter the strains and tribulations of malevolent intent would never keep us apart. I love my sweet baby sister more than life itself.
Ashley is 5’6″ tall with golden hair the color of the burning sun, of ripened wheat, of corn silk, of a wavelength of gold that I struggle to describe. It reaches in gentle waves to the middle of her erect back achingly teasing me to run my fingers through it countless times a day. Her eyes are pools that reflect not only her soul but how others see themselves in the way that she sees them. A blue so deep and rich that I have never seen kadıköy escort bayan it manifested in another person or even nature itself. It is her blue; owned and defined by her alone. No matter how many countless times I have stared into those eyes, I never tire from the wonderment that it causes me. I am lifted on a cloud and lost in the swirling blue depths of her light.
She is probably the most intelligent person that I have ever met and because of this incredible gift, this magnificent ability that she possesses, she may have very well saved both of our lives. My kid sister is slender, athletic with perky breasts that represent years of physical activity. An athlete of talent that engaged in sports from soccer to gymnastics to swimming to track, it was her personal avenue of escape from abuse for a few short hours each day and my opportunity to be absolutely sure that none reached out to harm her.
Her sweet breasts, such a lovely visage, are not huge by any imagination, but firm with nipples that reach out slightly upwards and aureoles the size of half dollars inviting me to caress, nibble, and suck each one as she moans from sheer delight from the sensations that reach her. She has a perpetual tan, almost olive skin, without flaw, no scar or deformity which I find utterly incomprehensible due to the assaults upon her. Her hands are slender and soft with long fingers and meticulously manicured nails. Clear, without polishes, they are radiant in their own right. From her slender sides and the gentle curve of her hips, down her feminine and extraordinarily strong legs to her small feet that will drive her crazy with lust when a kiss is placed upon them, my little sister is a figure of true natural beauty. From her throat emanates her personal melody, a voice so magnificent in its softness and personal musical note that is distinctive only to her. It captures my full rapt attention any time I am so honored to hear her. I never tire from hearing her song. It is absolutely amazing that this swan of love is so full of happiness, love, compassion, and desire that when I think about the time of tears and grief that befell her, I am at a total loss.
As I said before, I am not concerned with what happened to me, only with my wonderful sibling who is life in itself to me. To take a gift such as my loving sister, whose beauty and wonderful smile already established itself at birth, to mistreat such an angel on earth, to force such a love as hers into pain, grief, and tears was a sin in itself. To live with a broken heart daily as the mistreatment compounded itself was a personal torture not only for my younger golden girl but it slowly caused my own descent into hell from which we both fought back to claim our lives as lovers and conquerors of adversity. Tears come to my eyes when my mind touches the emotions of the past as well as the happiness I feel today. Even in the darkest of hours, our love for each other granted respite and hope. Our hands intertwined forever from our earliest youth promising each other to never let go. Yes, I love my innocent little sister and will stand against the fury of Hades itself to protect her. She is mine now and forever, I lay claim to her. I became hers the moment she breathed her very first breath.
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