Fated

It was Monday morning, and while I desperately wanted to remain in bed, I knew that Eric was right: We needed to get going before the rush hour traffic slowed us down. On the positive side, that meant that we arrived at our final hotel earlier than usual.

We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant, and more than a few people looked at us curiously. We were not being affectionate in public, and we were not talking loudly or wearing "unusual" clothing. We were simply a big brother and a little sister enjoying a meal together.

Following dinner and a short walk together in the small park across the street from the hotel, we retired to the hotel suite, the last one we would be enjoying for quite some time. While my big brother worked a bit on his laptop, I decided to lay on the sofa with the book I had been reading for most of the day.

I had clearly fallen asleep, for suddenly, Eric knelt beside the sofa, a hand gently rubbing my stomach. "I didn't know my little sister was actually Sleeping Beauty," he joked.

"Well, let me fall asleep again so you can wake me up with a kiss."

We shared a smile for a moment before he rested his head upon my chest. Once when I was fourteen or fifteen years old, the family cat had decided to curl up on my chest, but otherwise, I had never had a person's head resting upon such an inappropriate area of my body. A long silence passed as I cradled my big brother's head and ran my fingers through his short hair.

"I like what I hear," he finally said.

"You just like hearing it through a breast," I chided him.

"That helps as well," he admitted. He lifted his head from my chest and kissed each breast appreciatively, making me smile again. "I've long liked breasts, but the fact that these are

your

breasts really makes them all the more significant."

Rising from the floor, my big brother settled himself upon me, his hands on my breasts as we kissed. It felt so good to have him pressing me into the sofa, his hands kneading my small breasts. I could feel him harden and lengthen against me, and soon I was helping him to move against me, to slowly increase his arousal just as his actions were slowly increasing the flow of desire from my body.

Something unexpected happened: As his hands focused upon my chest, as I felt the love pouring directly from him into my heart, I subconsciously began to feel more comfortable with my own body, specifically with my breasts. There was something tender and heartfelt about how my big brother touched me, about how the attention of his hands were so riveted upon my twin swells. I could never fully explain it in words – words simply are not adequate.

It was not just his hands... It was also something intangible, yet something I could feel permeating my skin, penetrating deep into my soul. It was almost a "permission" to view myself as beautiful even though my body was not quite up to the media-enforced societal standard for an eighteen-year-old female.

My body truly responded. Through shirt and bra, I was almost certain that my big brother could feel my nipples poking into his palms. Even though I was fully clothed, I could practically smell my own thoroughly-aroused musk deep in my nostrils. Even though he was in the dominant position and pressing me into the sofa, I attacked him with my mouth, practically raping him with my tongue, delving so deep into his mouth that he squealed with surprise and squeezed my breasts even harder, which simply inspired me to try to slither my tongue down his throat.

When we finally came up for air, I was hot, and we were both breathing rather heavily. He gazed deep into my eyes with a lust that bordered on the primal; only the natural, deep-rooted gentleman within him held the primal beast at bay, and I was thankful for that, for it was the gentleman which had so completely shaped the personality of the big brother I knew and respected and loved – the primal beast was foreign to me, an exotic animal I had never seen and was not entirely certain I wished to see.

"We need to stop," he said, I believe more to himself than to me. "Right here."

I could only nod, somewhat relieved that the primal beast was still caged, yet for some reason I was slightly saddened that I had not become my big brother's prey.

*****

We decided to bring things to a simmer between us by going for a swim together. I put on my bikini and added shorts and a t-shirt over it, while Eric put on his swim trunks and a t-shirt. We each grabbed an extra towel from the bathroom and made our way downstairs.

Twilight was upon us, and the air felt nice and cool on my skin as we stepped outside. While there was an older man swimming laps in the indoor pool, we were alone at the outdoor pool, the underwater lights giving the pool almost an eerie glow. The large canopy over the pool made the area even darker, which further highlighted the pool's near-glow and also gave us some privacy from any prying eyes in the upper floors of the hotel.

I have never been a strong swimmer, so I stayed in the shallow end of the pool while my big brother swam several laps. When he finally stood beside me again, he smiled.

"At least this time your bikini is getting wet the intended way," he said.

I punched him – playfully – in the arm.

That started another wrestling match of sorts. He dunked me at least three times as often as I was able to dunk him, but that was the norm, and it felt great. It was indeed a great way to bring the sexual tension between us to a simmer, even though several times he had seized a breast and not immediately let go.

When at last we stood beside the pool and dried ourselves, I looked at him, thinking of the fun we had just experienced in the water, and remembered the past, when it was purely my big brother playing with me in that manner. Standing before me was the very same person, only a bit older, slightly more muscular, and with a few gray strand of hair already forming, yet now this person was also the protector of my heart.

"I really needed that swim," Eric confessed as we rode the elevator up to the seventh floor. "Otherwise, I don't know that I could've..."

"'Could've' what?" I prompted.

He sighed, reaching for my hand. "Before the swim," he admitted, "I could feel the 'other' me coming to the fore. It's someone I don't care for much, because he seems so foreign, so... violent. He's not like me, and I don't care for him."

The elevator chimed for the seventh floor, and he released my hand. We stood a respectable distance apart as the elevator doors opened, and stepped out into the brightly-lit hallway, our conversation on hold until we were safely back in our suite with the door securely locked behind us.

"Something only one other person besides me knows," Eric finally continued, clearly distressed, "is that I've actually fucked someone before."

I was confused. "I'm not sure why you're concerned about that..."

"You know me, Erica. I've always been respectful to you and to our mom and to every girl and woman I've ever known. Sure, you and I have played around a bit – wrestling, things like that – but that was always in the name of fun. Whenever you and I make love, it is truly that: truly making love, truly respectful and almost gracious and glorious. But there was one time – and I'm almost certain that she spiked my drink – that I didn't make love with someone. I fucked her. Fast and hard. And somehow, I couldn't stop, even though I was appalled at what I was doing. Even though she clearly enjoyed it, especially when I bit her fiercely as I shot into her, it just wasn't me, it wasn't the gentle Eric I've always been, and it really shook me for days afterward, and even now."

I had known in very general terms about my big brother's "success" in bedding women, but this was a revelation to me, yet I had also sensed it when he was upon me on the sofa earlier in the evening. I had sensed the beast, ready to tear into me, rutting with the singular purpose of spreading his genes, growling with the pride of conquest. Yet the gentleman in him was so strong and so prevalent, even at that moment, that I practically saw the beast recede into the shadows of his sexuality, into the realms the gentleman would never know nor wish to experience.

To be honest, I did not particularly wish to experience my big brother's "beast" persona. I was perfectly content with the slow, respectful, cherishing lovemaking we had enjoyed. I was more than willing to give my body to him, but I was not certain that I would want him to simply take me, to use me, to pound away as if I was simply a sex doll, simply a receptacle for his sperm. I was not yet ready for that.

And I was thankful that we had reached this point, this realization, before we both finally moved into the apartment which we would share for at least the next three years. Having reached this point when we did would essentially "banish" the beast from the apartment.

As if to illustrate his point about being slow and respectful, my big brother made love to me in the darkness, the covers over us and trapping in the heat and the love we generated. I gave myself fully to him, my hands clenching his tightly as my orgasm surged around his invading anatomy. And then he continued, nudging me toward a second climax before pouring his seed deep inside my accepting body.

He was still upon me, his weight pressing me deep into the mattress, his hands still clasping mine, as I drifted off into slumber.