I expected my brother soon. We had established a routine of sorts since that first time only four months ago. On Thursdays, he would come to my home very late from a regular poker game he had with his buddies. There was sure to be beer, maybe even a joint, a couple of shots, and big fat cigars. He'd be smelling of alcohol and maybe he hadn't shaved that day, but I didn't care. The deal was that he'd let himself in through the garage with the key I gave him and shower in the guest room downstairs before coming up to my bed.
Tonight I was wide awake. I had heard him stumbling around in the dark below. I was lying in my bed curled up on my side, my face turned away from the slightly opened door. Except for a candle, the room was dark.
I was only wearing a chiffon peasant blouse I had found on a shopping trip and saved for Thursdays. It was made from silk, white, with little embroidered roses along the collar. The blouse left my bottom exposed, giving my brother a great view of my white ass when he entered.
My late husband, may his soul rest in peace, thought my ass was my finest feature. He loved to grind himself against it, and I loved to grind it against him. I didn't think it was huge, but he said it was very cheeky. He said it complemented my breasts. I thought I was flat-chested but both my husband and now my brother, Sam, loved to fondle my breasts and tweak the pink buds that were my nipples.
Sam came into my room and crawled into bed behind me without saying a single word. I was as quiet and as still as a mouse. I could smell tequila on his breath and a light, citrus cologne. I lay without moving as he took his dick out of the loin cloth he wore after drying off and began to slide it up and down the crack of my bottom. I knew he was getting harder and I could feel my behind getting slicker. I imagined the juices that were now oozing from his little dick head.
I shouldn't say little dick, but blissfully Sam's dick wasn't huge. While I may have a nice latina ass and wide hips, I'm not a huge girl—about 5' 6" and skinny as a rail. I knew right away that Sam's dick was made for what was about to happen, which I must say, prim and proper as I may appear, I really fucking love. Sam actually has a very beautiful, if not huge, dick, and being not quite 27 Sam really is quite an Adonis. He sure felt good as he began to aim for that little brown target hidden inside the crack of my backside with his arrow of sex.
Earlier this evening I had cleaned myself while relaxing in the bath, applying some oil and stretching my backdoor with a little tool I found on yet another trip. (I'll let you guess for now which tool I bought and how I came to buy it.) I'd reapplied some lubricant when I got ready for bed.
I could feel Sam's hands separating my cheeks and the head of his dick squarely on my back hole. I loved the teasing feel just before penetration but I didn't move or make a sound. I imagined my hole opening wide for him. I heard him sigh very deeply, and then an "oh my god" as he began to stretch open my sphincter with the tip of his dick and slide himself slowly into my rectum.
Sam, bless his dear soul, would then lie quietly inside my ass as I adjusted to the feel of his tool inside me. I could feel how tremendously hard and throbbing he was, and how tremendously warm and stuffed I felt.
Sam couldn't be still for long, and he began to pump me slowly with short strokes while his hands reached under my blouse and cupped my breasts. I reached down to play with my clitoris, which was completely wet from one stroke of my finger along my slit. We stayed that way, this slightly inebriated boy curled inside his slight whore of a sister, and I remembered for an instant how we came to this point.
I lost my husband almost three years ago. We hadn't been married long, but we managed to buy a house and he made some smart investments that kept me comfortable for the time being. I couldn't bear to date again and most of the guys my age seemed like drunks and golddiggers to me anyway. My girlfriends were busy with their families, and after a while I felt lost and alone. I am still young and will turn 30 next month. Sam was still in college when I married, and he finished his stint in the army about six months ago.
That's when Sam came back to our town. He had his own apartment, and I tried several times to invite him over for dinner. At first he kept to himself, and he seemed just as lost and lonely as I was. One night, I was lying on the couch, watching late night tv. I had opened a bottle of red wine. I was drinking my third glass of wine, when I heard banging at the front door. I looked through the peephole, and there was his friend, Ian, propping up Sam.
I tied my robe on over my nightshirt.
"Sam wasn't in any shape to drive home. Hope it's okay to bring him here," Ian said when I opened the door. Ian was an old friend of Sam's and he had remembered where I lived.
"Of course, it's okay. I'm really glad you did. Thank you so much," I said. I noticed Ian's eyes.
"Um, you need help getting him to bed or anything?" Ian asked.
I thought about it. It would be good if Ian stayed with me a while, but I said, "No. Let's leave him on the couch just as he is. I'll cover him up and he can sleep it off on the couch."
Ian looked at me again with those eyes. I thanked Ian again, and he left.
Sam was pretty much out of it at this point but occasionally mumbled something incoherent. I managed to get his pullover off but left his t-shirt on. I took off his shoes and socks. Then I unbuttoned his belt and began to slide his pants off when I noticed he was wearing a red jock strap underneath. The tv was still on. It was the only light in the room. I slipped the pants off. I took my glass and sat in a chair next to the couch. I looked at my half-naked brother and the bulge filling the red cup for the first time in almost eight years.
That was the summer before I finished college and came back home. Sam had graduated from high school, and we spent a lot of time together going to the beach or a movie and sometimes to a party. We were both single that summer, and it was nice to hang out with him.
One day we were lying on the beach, just soaking up the sun. There's something about the beach that always makes me feel randier than usual. Maybe it's the fact that I wasn't hardly wearing anything. The bikini top I was wearing was barely tied on, and I could feel Sam's eyes from time to time as they tried to peek at my nipples in the loose-fitting bra. He'd avert his attention away whenever I caught him staring. The bikini bottom was small and snug in my crotch, and of course my legs were spread open to catch both the sun and the faint, cooling breeze. I was quite pleased with myself and didn't mind exhibiting myself to even my brother. No harm, no foul.
Or maybe I felt randier than usual because this was a clothes-optional beach, and from our vantage point nestled in the dunes we could see the erstwhile hippies and other sun worshippers parading down to the surf in the buff. Let's put it this way: some bodies are sexier than others but you have to admire anyone who'd dare stroll naked in public and their openness was pleasing.
Or maybe it was the joint Sam had brought. I hadn't smoked more than two times in my life, but this struck me as pretty killer weed.
Or maybe it was the book I was reading. My college roommate told me about it, and so I bought it. I took it to the beach, hidden in my Cosmopolitan, and discretely read it. It was about this woman whose betrothed took her to an English country mansion late one night after going to the opera. She was all decked out in a short dress and layers of petticoats. She loved this man and trusted him completely. When they arrived, two barefooted women dressed in long gowns took their coats. Two more women came into the hall, also barefooted and wearing long gowns. The man said to his fiancée, "Now, you must follow these women and you must remain silent until I whisper your name. Will you do this for me?" The woman nodded yes, smiled, and then turned to follow the two women. They took her into another large, dark room. There was no furniture except a prayer kneeler. They took off her dress and all of the petticoats. She stood there naked, and the two women began to rub oil all over her body. They put a mask on her and told her to kneel on the kneeler. When she did this, she realized that there were many more people in the room. As I read the book, I couldn't help touching myself, especially along the inside of my upper thigh along the edge of my bikini bottom.
In the corner of my eye, I saw a twitch in Sam's bathing suit and noticed there was a sizeable bulge in his pants. For an instant, I almost forgot he was my brother.
"What are you reading, sis?" my brother asked.
I knew I was caught. "It's called, 'The Story of Her Surrender,'" I answered, folding it face down on my tummy, covered by my magazine.
"I know that book," he said. "I saw the movie. Isn't it pornographic?"
"I'm not sure I'd call it pornographic," I replied. "It sure seems erotic, though."
"I could tell it had an affect," my brother said. He grabbed the book, and began to read it out loud.
Erin could now see people emerging from the shadows of the room and forming a circle around her. She looked for Bryan, but she could not make him out from the others. Her heart was racing but she remained kneeling. Two women came forward again, dressed as before, and disassembled the kneeler so that nothing remained upon which to rest her hands. She continued to kneel upright, as a nun in church without her cowl. A masked man now took a chair in front of her. As he sat, his robe opened to reveal a red codpiece underneath.
Sam continued.
When she looked into the man's eyes, she thought she recognized Bryan but the man sternly said, "You must not look upon the eyes of anyone here." He gestured to the two women who now stood beside him, and they took hold of Erin's arms and laid her so that she was prostrate and naked before the robed man.
"What's a codpiece?" my brother asked when he stopped reading. His question startled me from the bold images playing in my head.
"It's like a sack for, you know, a man's, you know" was the best I could say.
"Oh, like a jock strap, like what I'm wearing under my bathing suit."
