Norma O'Toole - Live-in lover

During the last few months I have lived a life that fluctuated between exquisite pleasure and severe psychological pain. Now that I have finally removed myself from the scene of that experience, I must, so that society understands, tell the entire story. It is a story that is not unique, but it is fare enough to prove both interesting and educational.

My story begins the day my brother and I celebrated our eighteenth birthdays. My name is Lana Morris. Lonnie, my brother, is my twin. We were products of a middle class suburban upbringing that seemed normal in almost every respect. The only major problem was our mother.

The day of our birthday marked the fifth year my mother had confined herself to her room. She was constantly complaining of some illness that an unaccountable number of doctors were unable to successfully diagnose. My father, who was as patient as Job, said that although her pains and illnesses were probably psychological they were still very real to her, and therefore, needed the same respect that was due someone who was physically sick. This was not difficult to do, since our only contact with Mother was a daily goodnight kiss.

Daddy took up the responsibility of being both parents to my brother and me. He was a wonderful, jovial man, who went out of his way to bring sunshine into everyone's life. Single-handedly, he took care of Mother, and still managed to make a better than average living as a producer for a major television station. At thirty-seven years old, he was still the most handsome man I had ever met, and through a vigorous exercise routine, managed to remain in excellent physical condition. I was beginning to realize he was a very sexy man.

We began the night of our birthday together, just Lonnie, Daddy, and myself. Instead of inviting our friends to a large party, we decided to wait until summer when we could use the pool and our large backyard. Daddy brought home a bottle of champagne, and for the first time, we were given permission to partake of an alcoholic beverage.

After dinner, we were about ready to pull the cork on a bottle of champagne when the telephone rang. There was an emergency at the television station, and Daddy was needed to handle the bruised ego of an important talk-show star. We could tell that he was genuinely unhappy about being taken from such a momentous family gathering. He promised that he would make it up to us, and told us to start on the champagne without him.

My brother and I were disappointed, but we knew that nothing could be done. Left alone, we began to drink the sweet, bubbly wine. This was a new experience for us, and it made us feel very adult.

Both Lonnie and I were pretty naive about life. It seemed that our teenage years were geared toward preparing us for college. Our friends, likewise, were pursuing the same goals, so therefore our education and life experience was, for the most part, rooted in academics. We, of course, knew that drinking, boy-girl relationships, and sex existed, but our knowledge of these things did not go much further than that.

So now that my brother and I were both feeling the effects of alcohol for the first time, it did not seem strange that Lonnie would bring up the topic of sex during our wide ranging conversation. We were very close, as twins usually are, and were very rarely embarrassed by our bodies or their functions. But this was the first time either of us had ever discussed the subject of sex.

"Lana," Lonnie began, "do you think I'm sexy?"

"I think you're good-looking, if that's what you mean. After all, you are my twin, and I think that I'm not too bad to look at," I replied humorously.

"That's not exactly what I meant," he said. "It is very difficult to explain."

"Oh, Lonnie, you explain things very well. Try," I urged.

"I was at the bookstore today, and this girl I had never seen before came up to me and started a conversation. During our talk she told me that she found me very sexy, and wanted to take me home and chain me to her bed. I didn't know what she was talking about, but just the fact that she was talking to me about sex had a very strange effect on my body. Later, after she left, I realized I wanted to go home with her to find out what she had in mind. Does this make sense to you?" he asked.

"Yes, in a way, I guess. I know that I have awakened in the night after certain dreams and experienced strange sensations in my body. But I never gave them much thought. I think the dreams might have been about sex, but I'm not sure," I answered.

"Wow, that's right! I wake up almost every morning with a strange feeling. As a matter of fact, there have been some physical changes as well," my brother blurted.

"What do you mean by physical changes?" I asked, becoming more interested than I thought was proper.

Lonnie also realized, I think, that we were headed into new and mysterious directions. He was blushing and taking his time before answering. I had never seen my brother at a loss for words before.

"Do you remember when we used to take baths together?" he finally asked, but continued before I could respond. "Well, you remember how small my penis was, right?"

I nodded my head yes.

"On those mornings I was talking about, it would swell to a size of seven inches. I measured it because it was so difficult to believe," Lonnie said, not able to look at me.

"What did you do about it?" I asked.

"Nothing, really. In a few minutes, I forgot all about it, and it returned to normal size. But when it was swollen, it was very, very sensitive," he stated.

"Wow!" was all I could say. The feelings that I had occasionally felt after those certain dreams, were returning. I really didn't want the conversation to continue any longer. I think I was more bothered by my own ignorance than by anything that was being said.

The only information that I had received about my body was when my mother explained to me what had to be done when I started my period. She didn't tell me why I was going to have a period, only that I was going to have one each month, what to expect, and how to take care of it. She also strongly ordered me not to touch my private organs for any reason other than was necessary for personal hygiene.

The school district that we belonged to had voted down the introduction of sex education in the classroom. This being the case, the only way I cold learn about sex was through my friends or family. And, I doubted that my friends knew very much more than I did about the subject.

As far as my family was concerned, the prospects of finding answers, again, seemed slim. I couldn't ask my mother. We really hadn't said anything to each other for years. The only words were the "goodnights" said at the end of each day. She didn't know anything about me, and it would have been almost impossible to raise such a sensitive subject. To ask my father was totally out of the question. Knowing how he was, I would never put him through what was sure to be an embarrassing situation. And Lonnie, surely, was in the same ignorant boat I was.

So, on the night of our first conversation about sex, I suggested that we ask around for some literature that explained the sexual weakening of our bodies. He readily agreed, and promised that the next evening he would have the material we needed. Both of us were surprised when the events that took place later that night would make my suggestion almost unnecessary.

It was well after midnight when Lonnie came into my room and woke me from a sound, champagne aided sleep.

"Daddy brought home that talk-show lady, and she's down in the game room. She is really something. Do you want to see her?" Lonnie asked, totally out of breath.

I followed my brother downstairs. When we reached the entrance to the room where my father and the lady were, we stopped. The hallway was dark, and we could see into the room without being seen.