It has been over fifty years since I last saw my brother. Some of the memories I had of him, of us, have been forgotten. Some are incomplete and some of my memories are of false memories no doubt. There is no way for me to tell a true and complete and honest account of the time we were together essentially as boyfriend and girlfriend. All I can say for sure is that he fucked me, he fucked me often, he fucked me a lot — and I loved it. And it was wrong.