"I guess we need to talk, little brother," I began.
"Yeah, I guess we do."
I pulled the bottle of Coke out from behind my back and held it out, and stuck my other hand on my hip. I was wearing jeans and a loose top, my hair still a frizzy mess from my sleep.
I had knocked on his door and I was still standing in the doorway to his bedroom as I confronted him about the note he had left on my dresser.
It had been about a week since I had bribed him with, among other things, a bottle of Coke, into letting me watch him masturbate all the way to the end. Since that time we hadn't spoken about it, not since I had thanked him and tried to ease his embarrassment as he fumbled to get his pants back up; we hadn't spoken since about the private sexual act he had shown to me.
In fact, we both seemed to be gradually relaxing back into our normal brother-sister relationship, until I found a similar collection of "bribes" on my own dresser this morning, along with a note that asked if I wanted to go "double or nothing." That was the phrase I had used that day in the woods as I searched for the words to speak my naughty little wish to him.
When I saw those same words on the note he had left for me this morning, what immediately entered my mind was that he wanted to watch me do to myself what a lady does not speak of. That little fucking pervert! He wanted to watch me pleasure myself.
I was surprised enough, and reluctant enough, back on that day when I got to watch him do it for me, about the fact that he had asked me to drop my own pants at least enough so that he could look at me there. And let me tell you, as aroused as I was watching the second man in one day pleasuring his own hard penis right in front of me -- one secretly and one openly -- as aroused as I was by those things, I had said to myself then as I was saying it to myself now, this little train does not go both ways. I had pulled down my jeans and my panties and I had eventually spread my knees apart for him for a good indecent view of me, but I would not -- could not -- let someone watch me do that with my fingers. Not any man, much less my own younger brother.
And I was so fucking worked up that day, watching him give himself an orgasm for me, that it took every fiber in my being to keep my promise to my own privacy and not put my fingers down there and give myself release then and there. No. No. And No.
"I'm not doing 'it' for you, if that's what this means." I wiggled the Coke bottle at him for emphasis.
He gave me a hurt look. I fumbled on, not wanting to hurt his feelings too bad.
"Listen, Jordan, I told you it was amazing what you showed me that day. It was incredible of you to let me watch you do such a beautiful thing. I'll say the same thing I said then, 'thank you.' Truly. But I just..."
"No, sis, it's not like that."
"Don't interrupt me. I let you look at me that one time just because, I don't know, it seemed only fair. But there's no way that I could..."
"I'm trying to tell you it's not..."
"Ok, then what is it like? You don't want to watch me actually do it, then what? You just want to look again? Because I don't..."
"No. No, sis." His voice was an odd combination of soothing and pleading that I didn't usually get from him. Now I had to know at least what it was he was trying to say. I would listen. Yes, I would listen to his horny male fantasy, and then tell him "no."
"Ok, I'm listening. What did you mean by 'double or nothing'?"
He took a deep breath and I could see him clench his fists like he was struggling to get something out. Heartlessly, I stepped toward where he sat on his unmade bed and jabbed at his ribs with the Coke bottle. "What? Tell me! I want to know right now!"
He made me stop, and then he paused, summoning his courage. I knew this was important for him and there was nothing else to do. I waited.