Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Blame It on Cain by Jeremy Spencer Copyright 2004

   All rights reserved.  This story may be downloaded for personal use, but
any posting to a website, free or otherwise, is strictly forbidden.  If you
have found this story somewhere other than my page
(/~Jeremy_Spencer/) or at Storiesonline, please let me
know by filling in a feedback form at either place.

   Author's Note: The following is a fictional story.  In it, fictional
characters have hot, sweaty, unprotected, fictional sex.  They live in a
fictional world without fictional diseases.  You do not.  Be careful.  All
characters in this story are old enough to know what they're doing.  Now,
on to the show!

   *****

   Even though it wasn't my wedding, I still remember the day vividly. 
Each sigh of happiness from the grandparents as the bride floated down the
aisle.  Each tinkle of crystal as spoons crashed against champagne glasses,
signaling for one more kiss from the happy couple.  Each time my heart
broke into a million pieces.  I remember everything...

   "Aren't they a lovely couple?"

   "Pardon?" I turned to see who had spoken and smiled as my Aunt Rose
tipped her glass of champagne back, draining the last few drops.  She
burped daintily, not bothering to cover her mouth, and gave me a toothy
grin.

   "I said aren't they a lovely couple?"

   I nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence as the newlyweds danced
their first dance together.  Shelly and Dave were certainly easy on the
eyes as they moved in tandem over the dance floor.  My brother was still
dressed in his tuxedo shirt and pants, although the bow tie had long since
gone the way of his jacket and cummerbund.

   Shelly?  Well, there's no good way to describe the most stunning
creature on God's green earth, not without making her sound practically...
human.  Her pixie face was aglow with happiness as she spun around in her
husband's arms.  I could hear the peals of her laughter over the buzz of
the crowd.  It was her day, far more than it would ever belong to Dave.

   Far more than it would ever belong to me, although by rights it should
have been mine.

   She should have been mine.

   Is it my fault I loved too deeply?  Too completely?  I admit to driving
her away, although that admission certainly rings hollow to my own ears,
all things considered.  It seems I have often exhibited a talent for
stating the obvious, and this would certainly fall into that category.  So
many things changed that day.

   I've probably ruined her life, I know that.

   But was it worth it?

   "Ronnie, why aren't you dancing?" I looked up from playing with my six
year-old niece Taylor, who seemed disappointed that her time of
monopolizing me was over.  She waved goodbye and scampered off in search of
more entertaining adults.

   "Hey, Shelly.  I've been busy," I said, my smile turning a bit sour as
my brother walked up behind his bride, embracing her in his arms.  "I seem
to have been elected oldest child by most of the kids, so I've been
providing pony rides."

   "You're cute, but you really need to dance," Shelly said, reaching up to
return a stray lock of hair into its proper place in her elegant hairdo. 
She was lithesome and stunning, and I felt my stomach turn as she leaned
back into my brother's embrace.

   "Yeah, Ronnie.  Why don't you get out there?  You used to be able to cut
some kind of mean rug on the dance floor, if I remember right.  Time to
strut your stuff.  Show Ôem that Davey boy isn't the only Hayes brother
who's got it."

   "Hush, David." Shelly looked embarrassed for her new husband, who
clearly had enjoyed more than his share of the champagne, which seemed to
flow from a bottomless spring.

   I stood as if to leave, uncomfortable to be in their presence.

   "Sorry, I've gotta..."

   "Ronnie, don't go yet.  It's still early," Shelly pleaded.  "Let me stow
Dave away somewhere.  You can't leave yet.  I still haven't had my dance
with the best man."

   Reluctantly I agreed, sighing as I watched my brother shuffle off to one
of the side tables, held upright thanks to Shelly's strength, already
supported by his new wife.

   As I watched them walk away, I had to laugh.  Best man?  I hadn't been
the best man in many years, especially not around my younger brother.

   My last year at university seemed so long ago, but really it was the
blink of an eye.  I had seen Michelle Thomas from across the courtyard, and
was instantly...  instantly smitten.

   "Do you see her?" I'd asked my brother the freshman, although he already
had in two months managed to ingratiate himself to more people than I'd
managed the previous three years.  "I'm going to ask her for a date." I was
terminally shy and nervous around girls, but she was something else.

   "Who?  Shelly?" My brother Dave was a social maven compared to my
awkward, boorish behavior, but I still cringed to learn he knew her name.
He should have had no reason to know her and yet he did, and when
something, or someone took his fancy...  I knew then I had no chance with
her.

   But I still had to try.  Two weeks later I saw my opportunity and took
it.

   "Hi, um...  Michelle?" I said, standing nearby the circle of people
Shelly seemed always to be in the middle of.

   "Yeah?" she asked, turning to look at me.  My heart soared as for a
moment a flash of recognition flickered over her face.  Had I been thinking
I would have known she saw my brother's features in my face.  It was
already too late, I just didn't know it yet.

   "Hi.  I'm Ron." Always Ron, never Ronnie, definitely not Ronald although
most people seemed not to hear my preference.  "Ron Hayes," I said,
extending my hand in greeting.  One of Shelly's friends said something I
couldn't quite catch, and the girls around her burst into laughter.

   "Hi Ron.  I'm Shelly, but you already knew that, didn't you?  Have we
met?  You seem familiar."

   I did?

   "Maybe you've seen me around the library.  I usually work weekends
there, so if you were ever there studying..."

   "I don't think that's it," she answered, her reply triggering another
round of laughter.

   "Ron Hayes," I said again, hoping to remind her of whatever it was she
had recognized in me originally.

   "Ron Hayes?  Oh!  Ronnie Hayes!  Sure, right...  David's brother.  He's
told me so much about you.  How are you?" she asked with what appeared to
be the utmost sincerity.

   It was the most agonizing conversation I'd had since my father attempted
to lecture me on the birds and bees.  His wasn't a bad attempt, really, and
the fact that I was eighteen at the time almost made it humorous.  This, on
the other hand, was pure torture.

   "He talks about you all the time," Shelly gushed, and I wondered why
Dave had never seen fit to make any mention of the seemingly countless
dates the two had gone on since first I'd mentioned my interest in Shelly
to him.

   The seeds of my torment certainly started that day.  Couldn't he see
that without any help from him, I had managed to find the one girl who
would make me happy?  I hadn't needed his help, our father's money would
not have been an issue, it would have been Shelly and me, happy together.

   But my brother had to fuck that up for me.

   The last year of my college career was nothing but slow torture for me.
Thankfully my brother and I were no longer roommates, so I wasn't forced to
put up with Shelly's constant presence in my life.  No, I only had to be
around her on holidays, vacations, birthdays, and all the other important
events in a person's life.

   When my graduation finally came, I eschewed the family tradition and
bolted to the coast.  If the family business was ever to be Hayes and Sons,
my father would have to sprout another progeny, for I would not be part of
it.  I wanted to get as far away from my brother and Shelly, now his
fiancŽ, as I possibly could.

   For the next three years I was a ghost as far as my immediate family was
concerned.  Oh, I appeared when needed, of course.  The passing of my
maternal grandmother was cause for great sadness and I was the
appropriately somber grandson on that occasion.  My youngest sister Mary's
confirmation was another, happier event.

   Each time I would return, Shelly was always happy to see me, wrapping me
in a hug.  It was all I could do to remain civil, so strong were my
emotions.  I knew my brother loved her, or at least thought he did, and
Shelly's sentiments were obvious to anyone within range of her smile.  My
usual routine was to attend to my obligations and then more or less
barricade myself in a spare room, so I'm certain I must have been awful
company.

   Thankfully those were two of only a handful of times I was obliged to
return home.  Until one day in January when I returned to my apartment,
exhausted from one more day in a seemingly endless string of days at work.
I rifled through my mail, which was filled as it always was with glossy
advertisements, bills, credit opportunities, and something elseŅa thick
envelope, made with heavy linen paper and scented of jasmine.  My heart
sunk as I flipped it over and read the return address.

   Mr.  and Mrs.  Richard Thomas

   Michelle's parents, who would never send me a letter, not unless it was
to inform me of the upcoming marriage of their daughter to my brother.

   I tore through the wax seal only to find my suspicions confirmed.  And
worse yet, it appeared my brother and his soon-to-be wife had planned this
far in advance, and the blessed day was not for another seven months.

   Seven months to agonize over what might have been.

   Two hundred days still to come before Shelly Thomas would become Shelly
Hayes.

   How many minutes, how many seconds, until she married the wrong brother?

   Finally the day of the wedding loomed ever closer and I, ever the
faithful and trustworthy brother, arrived back home for the festivities.

   "Didn't think you were ever coming back," Dave joked.  I wanted to tell
him I almost hadn't returned, knowing how simple it would have been to
claim car failure or worse, but yet here I was.

   "Nice to see you again," Shelly said as she walked up to me.  I had
expected a friendly handshake but Shelly, always friendly to a fault,
wrapped me in a hug.

   That hug was more than likely the start of my personal downfall.

   My brother and his soon-to-be wife had been moving tables in the hotel
party room and Shelly was wearing nothing more than cut-off sweatpants and
a well-worn t-shirt from her alma mater.  The shirt had seen better days
and through the thin material, damp with her sweat, I could feel the
outline of her nipples as her soft breasts pressed against my chest.

   Almost against my will I felt my hands slowly drop down her back,
finally coming to rest at the soft swell of her ass.  Her skin was warm and
smooth under my hands, the tops of the sweatpants rolled over to afford my
fingers a wide strip of skin to toy with.  I felt Shelly stiffen as a thumb
grazed the warm crevice between her cheeks, and I quickly tightened the
embrace, hoping to distract her from where my hands had been.

   Shelly no doubt could feel the lump of my erection as it pressed into
the soft flesh of her belly, but thankfully she chose to say nothing.  If I
had felt embarrassed at my condition before, it quickly turned to
mortification as her eyes darted to my crotch and a tiny smile played over
her lips.  My brother as usual was oblivious to our interplay, and I
wondered again what Shelly could have possibly seen in him.

   I love Dave of course, but never has a man with more opportunities made
less of himself.  I felt myself slip into a deep malaise as I realized
Shelly would be with him, the brightest and best achievement of his life,
and it was maddening.

   I helped shuffle tables around the hall in preparation for the
reception, but my thoughts and eyes never strayed far from Shelly.  Why was
she marrying him?  I was hurt that she had never once glanced at me during
our college years, but knew that after our first aborted meeting, I had
disappeared from her life and knew she wasn't to blame.  And still it hurt.

   The wedding was lovely, the bridesmaids cute and flirtatious, the bride
and groom resolute and deeply in love.  During the reception I sulked in
the corner, until a special moment.

   "Why won't you dance?" Shelly asked again.

   "Yeah, Ronnie, dance with her.  She's a really good dancer," slurred my
brother as Shelly gently deposited her new husband in a chair.

   "You behave," she told him gently.  "I'm going to go dance with your
brother now."

   She was?  I sighed and walked out onto the dance floor, imagining
everyone's eyes following us.  She was the blushing bride, I was the
spurned suitor, and I was sure my feelings must have been obvious.

   As Shelly flowed into my arms and the two of us swayed to the gentle
lilt of a waltz, my prick once again swelled in my slacks, pressing firmly
against the bride's thigh.

   I made as if to pull away, but Shelly kept her body tight against mine.
Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck and I felt her body shake. 
Suddenly I heard a tiny sob escape her lips and I held her at arm's length,
wondering what was going on.

   "Shelly?" I asked, searching her face for answers.  She shook her head
gently.

   "Just hold me," she said, and my mind raced, wanting to understand.  We
finished the dance and Shelly looked at me once before we parted.  "Thank
you," she whispered as she turned to walk away.

   "Shelly, wait.  What's going on?"

   She looked at me, and for a moment she appeared ready to say something,
but in the end she chose to walk away.  "You'll make a good husband to
someone, someday," she said simply.

   My brother made an ass of himself the rest of the evening, and I
wondered if he would be able to walk up the stairs to the wedding suite
where he and Shelly were spending the evening, much less carry her through
the door.  In the end, it was left to me, his protective older brother, to
maneuver his wobbly form up the three flights to his room, where Shelly was
waiting for him.

   "Thanks, man," he said as we reached the top.  "I think I can take it
from here."

   "You going to be okay?" I asked.

   "Sure thing.  Sure thing.  I'm just gonna go fuck my woman now.  Show
her what a real man's like, you know?" He leered up and me and I felt a
nearly unstoppable desire to smash his face into the nearby fire
extinguisher, knowing it would wipe the smirk off his face.

   "Be nice," I warned.  "She's your wife and she deserves better."

   "Better than what, Ronnie?  Better than you?" Dave staggered away, a
mocking tone to his voice.  "Better than the brother who's too afraid to go
after what he wants?  You're such a fuck-up Ronnie, it's embarrassing to
have you as a brother."

   "Dave, you're drunk."

   "I'm not too drunk to see you're a fuck-up.  Fuck-up.  Such a loser. 
Why do you think I asked her out in the first place, Ronnie?  Because you
wanted her, that's why.  Do you understand how easy it was?  It's funny."

   He was drunk and I was the sober responsible brother, but still I don't
understand why I did it.

   "Where are we going?" Dave asked as I grabbed his arm and led him once
again to the stairwell.

   "We forgot the key," I lied, opening the door.

   "Shelly could let us in," he pointed out, craning his head around to
look one last time at the door.

   "She could," I said calmly.

   Did I push him down the stairs, or was I just not fast enough to catch
him as he fell?  He was drunk and I might have had a few too many that
evening, who knows?  That's not really something for me to decide now, but
I'm sure a jury of my peers will come to the right conclusion.

   As I let the fire door close behind me, I heard the sickening crack as
Dave's head twisted around, bouncing off the cement stairs.  I pulled his
room key from my slacks and walked to his door, to his bride.

   Inside it was dark and my eyes took a moment to adjust.  Finally I could
make out Shelly's sleeping form as she lay sprawled across the bed.  As
silently as I could I removed my slacks and jacket, leaving the tuxedo
shirt covering my chest.

   Carefully I slipped into bed, nestling against Shelly's soft body.  I
reached around and captured one breast in my hand, letting my fingers tease
at the pliant bud of her nipple.  Shelly moaned in her sleep, pressing
herself back against my cock, once again erect with my arousal.  I slipped
my hand down, pushing my underwear down around my ankles to free my cock.
Slipping back behind her I lifted Shelly's nightgown and pressed my
erection between the firm cheeks of her ass.

   "Dave?" she mumbled, half asleep still.

   "Shh," I whispered, placing my finger on her lips.  "I love you."

   "Love you too." she murmured.

   Her pussy was warm but not entirely wet as I pushed the head of my cock
between her labia.  I reached down to stimulate her clit, teasing the
sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb.  She reacted slowly, spreading
her legs wide as she reached a hand down to position my cock at her
entrance.

   I pressed steadily forward, feeling a flash of anger as I felt no
resistance.  She was not a virgin and I knew Dave or some other man had
already beaten me to that prize.  Thrusting violently forward I buried
myself in her tunnel, drawing a sharp gasp as my prick spread her tender
folds.

   My hands were around her torso, grasping at the soft pillows of Shelly's
breasts as I rocked against the swell of her ass.  We quickly found a
rhythm, still spooning together as I hammered into her cunt.

   As my orgasm neared I realized I was beginning to cry as hot salty tears
fell onto Shelly's bare shoulder.  I felt the cum boiling up out of my
balls as I hid my face in her soft hair.

   "Dave, what's wrong?" she asked, turning to face me as my seed rushed
through my cock, splashing against Shelly's now slick inner walls.

   "Fuck," I hissed as Shelly's look of concern turned to one of confusion
and then panic.

   Her scream, of course, alerted the hotel staff and I found I had lost
the necessary energy to even try to explain things properly.  Why would
they understand?  They found Dave's crumpled body at the bottom of the
stairs, his brother in his new bride's bed.

   What more could they need to know?

   So I sit here in my cell, dressed as always in my orange jumpsuit,
waiting for my case to be called before a judge.  I find I have many hours
to the day to read and have turned, as many do, to the Bible.

   The Old Testament intrigues me, with its emphasis on retribution and
revenge, and I feel somehow connected.  Yesterday I was reading the story
of Cain and Abel and realized that mine is an age-old tale.  Abel the
younger brother stealing what Cain knew, or thought he knew, to be
rightfully his.  Sound familiar?  It's somehow comforting to me.

   I suppose in the end I'll be found guilty but I don't regret my
situation.  I don't regret what happened to Dave in the least, I think he
found at the end he received what he deserved.  The only thing I regret is
Shelly.  All she did was choose the wrong brother, but it's not her fault.

   But it's not my fault either.  I think in the end you can blame it on
Cain.
   The End