The "OTHER" Brother

I know it might sound slightly self-deprecating but I really didn't understand how I had so many guys paying attention to me while I was on my exchange. Was it my foreign alluuuure? Perhaps. Even then, Canada is far from exotic!

No matter. I had recently said good bye to Jim - 3 hours of my life I don't think I will ever truly get over; I was pretty messed up. I was meant to have moved to my last host family weeks before, but they had pulled out because they had heard I was some kind of social deviant, as told by my second host family from hell, the McFucks. A new family agreed to take me for the final 8 weeks of my year - a damn pain in the ass to move again with only 8 weeks left, but I didn't have any say in the matter.

The new family was wonderful, not to mention the dad was a professional photographer with a giant studio in the house. MOIST! He even took some fantastic photos of me - like glamor shots; I looked fucking HOT. (And before you read into anything: No, he wasn't a dirty old man; they were strickly on the up-and-up.) Maybe I'll post a couple some day... not any time soon though.

This lovely family had something else... a 15 year old son. Sure, he was very adorable but he was only fifteen! (I was edging closer to 18 at this point) I had absolutely zero attraction to him beyond the annoying little brother relationship that I "thought" we were forming... until the first night that he insisted on coming out with me for my nightly smoke before bed.

He stood outside with me in his jersey pajamas... pitching a tent the entire time! AAACK! Point that thing somewhere else, puu-leeze! It was difficult to avert my eyes, truly. I thought that involuntary reaction embarrassed guys but he was either oblivious or proud of his protruding package. After a couple days, I tried to convince him that it wasn't good for him to breathe in my smoke; it never worked and he wasn't taking any of my other oh-so-subtle hints.

In hindsight, I'm sure he was giving himself a pep-talk before every outing, "Tonight. I'll tell her tonight!" Ugh. I wince at the awkwardness of it all. He never did 'tell' me anything... until the last night before I moved back to Canada. I guess he figured he had nothing else to lose. Well, that is something I actually know how it feels - I can't penalize him too harshly. Ah-hem.

I got home at some ridiculous hour - probably 3am, I'm guessing. I had been partying with my friends all night and I was still pretty drunk when I stumbled down the hallway, passing his door. I tried to be quiet so to enjoy one last smoke by myself; one last night in Australia. He came out almost instantly; he must have been waiting.

SHIT.

After I was done, he followed me back inside and just as I was attempting a slurred, "G'nnnight" he pinned me up against the wall and stuck his tongue down my throat. I should also mention that he was tall, really tall. So while he was face raping me, his giant pocket sword was practically drilling a hole through his jersey pants and into my bellybutton! Wrong hole, honey, for real!

Was it his first 'real' kiss? I could only hazard a guess and say 'Yes'. He was gnawing my face as if he was trying to eat me as well as make out. It was bordering on painful; both physically and otherwise. In my intoxicated state, I surely let it go on longer than it should have, but even so, I think it was some of the longest and weirdest 10 seconds of my life.

Oddly enough, the family that pulled out from hosting me had two sons - 19 and 18. Maybe it was a good thing I didn't live there because apparently this Siren's song was hypnotizing as hell. Who knew?

If someone had told me all this was going to happen before I left, I would have called them a liar.