I'm home early from work, bummed because the day didn't go the way I'd planned it. The photocopier stopped working, the phone wouldn't stop ringing, everyone treated me like their slave - and not in a good way - and it's not even close to the end of the week. Sometimes I wish I could just throw my hands in the air and tell everyone to fuck themselves. But I can't. I'm the nice girl. The one who always makes sure her work is done before she leaves every day, and the one who always lends a helping hand when she needs it.
Then my brother appears in my doorway with a grin and a question. "Can I crash here for a few days? I just got back from London." He's a salesman, you see, and travels to far-flung corners of the world. Occasionally he shows up like this, unannounced, and I'm always happy to receive him. I live alone, no boyfriend, no husband, no kids running amok. I let him in and direct him to his usual room across the hall from mine.
He asks me about my day since I'm still moping at dinnertime. I explain and he smiles in sympathy. Later, we watch a movie, stretched out opposite each other on the couch, our legs tangled. It's something we've done since childhood and I enjoy the quiet comfort.
I sit up at one point and groan at the stiffness in my neck. I'm unsure if it's stiff from lying on the couch, or from carrying so much stress around. My brother 'tsks' at me and gestures me over to his side of the couch. I shake my head, make feeble protests, until he grabs my hand and yanks me closer, practically onto his lap. He pushes my hair off my shoulders and starts to knead the knot at the base of my neck. I let out another groan, this time of relief and pleasure at the feeling. He keep kneading, working my aching muscles until I'm all but goo in his hands.
Through the haze of pleasure, I tell myself his fingers aren't reaching too low over my shoulders. He just has long, strong, warm fingers. He doesn't mean to brush the tops of my breasts as he massages me so thoroughly. I remind myself that he doesn't realize I'm not wearing a bra beneath my lounging clothes and so he doesn't know I can feel the distinctive pressure of his fingertips along the sides of my breasts. I order my body to remain still, relaxed.
It doesn't work.
I can feel the warmth spreading from his hands to my throat and down to my chest. I can feel my nipples harden beneath my old t-shirt and when I glance down, I can see the obscene outline of them through the fabric. I want to cover myself but my brother slowly tugs me back against my chest and rubs his palms up and down my arms. I let out a sigh and lift my chin when he strokes a hand up my throat.
"Better now?" he asks me and I murmur in agreement.
He doesn't stop, just continues to rub me here and there, soothing and titillating all at once. This feels wrong, I tell myself it is, and yet at the same time, I've never felt so buzzed or tuned in to a man. He ceases to be the older sibling who pulled my hair and shoved dirt in my face. He's now a single man with magic fingers.
I think I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is waking in my bed in the morning. Alone. I tell myself, it's probably better this way. I let my mind get away from me last night. I shouldn't have allowed my body's natural reaction to such intimate touches sway my thoughts. He remains my brother, and I, the baby sister.
Still, there is a dampness in my panties and I reach down to stroke light fingers over the swelling lips of my cunt. I bite back a moan that threatens to echo through the quiet house. I slide my other hand beneath my clothes as well and part my lips. I hear the sucking noise as the moisture pulls and then I touch my exposed clit. I gasp and bite my lip to keep quiet. But I play with myself. I must play because I've woken up from a pleasant dream that was unfinished. I need to stroke myself. I thrust two fingers into the sopping slit that is my pussy and I rub the clit until I feel the tingling spread even further throughout my body.
God, yes, this is what I needed yesterday to ease my stress. I should have locked myself in the ladies room until I'd cum, flushed and hot all over from the feeling of my body unraveling. Somehow, it wouldn't have been the same, I know that. I needed to relax, I needed to swoon under my brother's hand.
At that thought, recalling the way his fingers had teased my breasts last night, I cum hard, three fingers shoved in my hole and thumb pressing my clit. I twist and bury my face in a pillow to wail my satisfaction at finding this release.
Eventually, I turn over again, body humming from the aftershocks. I get up and strip naked before running to the washroom. My brother's door is closed and I hide in the bathroom to wash. It's only when I'm done toweling off that I realize I didn't bring a change of clothes in with me. I hear his door open and I know I have to use this measly, ratty towel to cover my voluptuous body as I dash back to my bedroom.
"Open up!" he cries and punctuates his demand with a pounding fist on the washroom door.
I shriek and open the door without thought. He eyes me and smirks and I feel my face flame with embarrassment. I rush past him to my room, not hearing the bathroom door shut until after I've shut mine.
Later, we eat breakfast, neither of us mentioning it. I brush it off as nothing and he certainly acts as though it was nothing. For siblings, I suppose it is nothing. But I can't stop the dull twitch in my cunt, that grows until I know I must do something different to ease the need inside me.
"I think I want to go clubbing tonight," I announce, to my brother's surprise.
"Why?"
"Because I want to let loose. I've always been so boring and staid. I want to be wild for once."
My confession surprises both of us but his eyes narrow on my face until I have to avert my gaze.
