Fated

What did surprise me in a way about Eric needing to work from home every day was what happened at night. After the first few days, he could no longer stand to be in his own bedroom when he was not working. In hindsight, it made sense -- after all, after spending eight, nine, ten hours or more at the office, everyone is in a hurry to get out.

The problem arose on the third night of his working from home. The first two nights, we had slept in my bed. But on the third night, he was fidgety. He held me as usual, but he just could not sleep. After about two hours, we finally gave up, and moved to my bedroom. Within three minutes, he was asleep in my bed as I gently caressed him before slipping into slumber with him.

The weekend came, and Eric did do a little work in his bedroom on Saturday. But that night, again, he just could not sleep, and again we moved to my bedroom.

Sunday afternoon, for no apparent reason, we were both quite horny. Without thinking about it, I took him by the hand and led him toward his bedroom, just because it was closer, but he stopped, and almost had an expression of fear in his eyes.

That was when I finally realized what was at issue. His bedroom was no longer

his place

. It had become

his office

: the place where he slaved away his days. No longer was his own bedroom a place of rest and relaxation and lovemaking.

While the sexual mood had been broken, a new idea was born. By dinnertime, Eric's bedroom had been rearranged so that my desk could fit into it as well, making his bedroom a home office instead, a place where I could also dedicate myself to studying once my sophomore year of university finally began. Space in the new home office was cramped, but that was an issue we were both more than willing to live with to give him a greater peace of mind.

It also meant something rather significant: We would

always

be sleeping in my bed. Granted, we had slept together in the same bed -- either his or mine -- every night since our furniture had arrived, but there was something significant, something almost overwhelming, about my big brother

always

sleeping with me in

my

bed, and I wanted to do something to make it a memorable night for us, but especially for him.

As I made dinner (and once again felt like a wife), my mind was churning, trying to think of something to make the evening memorable. And then I realized that I was simply thinking too hard, that I needed to keep things simple.

"After dinner," I said as I set the table, "how about a nice long hot bubble bath?"

Eric looked at me blankly, almost as if he could not believe that I had just suggested a nice long hot bubble bath. But then he smiled, his eyes softening. "Sure," he agreed. "That would be great."

I believe he was expecting me to join him for the nice long hot bubble bath, but I had a different plan.

I ran the bath, watching as the bubbles formed, breathing deeply as the strawberry scent filled the bathroom. When my big brother finally entered the bathroom, he was already naked, and he paused to close his eyes and inhale the fruity scent. A smile spread across his lips, and I knew that this was the right idea.

As I had for much of the day, I wore only my thong and shorts, and I am almost certain that Eric expected me to undress for him. Instead, after sharing a brief kiss and hug, I turned off the water and motioned for him to step into the mass of pinkish-white bubbles. "Don't worry," I assured him, "the girly scent will be gone by morning." Fortunately, he smiled at my semi-joke.

Once Eric was settled in the bathtub, I retreated to the living room, finding the book he had been reading earlier and returning to hand it to him. "Read a bit," I said. "Relax. Unwind. Lose yourself in the book. I'll take care of you afterward."

He seemed genuinely disappointed that I was leaving him in the bathtub alone, but my big brother simply nodded, and I heard him opening the book as I left the bathroom.

In my bedroom, I opened

iTunes

on my laptop and selected some classical music, turning up the volume loud enough to be softly heard in the bathtub. Then I continued my plan, finding the new bottle of herbal-scented massage oil and the pillar candles I had bought recently for just such an occasion.

I spent some time on my bed, reading my own book, losing myself in the tale of magic and swordplay, and when I finally finished the book, the daylight was fading quickly. I lit the candles, readied the massage oil and the hand towel, and then returned to the bathroom.

Eric had set the book aside and was leaning back in the bathtub, the bubbles mostly having evaporated. On hearing me enter, his eyes opened slightly, and he smiled at seeing me still topless. When I sat on the edge of the bathtub, he placed a wet hand on my thigh and scratched my leg gently, loving me with his eyes.

"How do you feel?" I asked quietly.

He smiled. "More relaxed than I would have expected," he admitted. "I never would've thought of this, even though I know you like to take a bubble bath on occasion."

"Just think of me as the dutiful wife," I said, "trying to make her husband's life a little easier."

We shared a knowing smile and held hands for a moment. The bubbles and the strawberry scent had mostly dissipated, but the love was still flourishing.

"Ready for Part II?" I asked. Soon I was drying him, taking my time -- not to ensure he was truly dry, but to give all of him my full attention. As I knelt before my big brother to dry his legs and his feet, he was certainly giving me his full attention, and I had to resist the urge to grasp his growing manhood and guide it into my willing mouth.

Instead, with my forbidden lover fully dried, I set the towel aside and kissed my way up his body until I was standing before him and kissing his lips. He held me close and enveloped me with his love, which was a very good sign that my plan was indeed working.

Eventually, I took my big brother by the hand and guided him back into my bedroom, gesturing to my bed. He stretched out on his back, watching me as I stepped back from the bed, the candlelight providing the only illumination once I turned off the bathroom light.

Slowly, as seductively as I knew how, I unbuttoned, unzipped, and removed my shorts. I was thrilled to see my big brother licking his lips, his forbidden phallus growing with his arousal. I tried to imagine what he must have been feeling at that moment, what he must have been thinking as I stood just outside the reach of his outstretched arm, pointedly ignoring his gesture as my eyes grazed over his nudity, as my gaze stroked him to heighten his desire.

Yet, almost certainly to his chagrin, the thong was not removed. Instead, I turned, purposely bending over as I retrieved the hand towel and the massage oil from atop my dresser. As I returned to him, his eyes showed that he clearly knew what was about to happen, even though it meant a continual denial of what he wanted.

...or rather, a denial of who he wanted: me.

As the music played, I took my time, adding oil and massaging it into each part of his anatomy, but purposely avoiding the long, thick, pulsing anatomy which stretched up to his navel. I was not paying attention, but I believe that five songs must have played in their entirety before I finally added a thin line of herbal-scented oil along my big brother's hearty manhood.

He shuddered as I finally took his sex in my hands. Continuing to work slowly and purposefully, I stroked the oil into his most sensual flesh, enjoying how he pulsed within my hands and how his breathing changed as I continued to touch him.

"You're naked on your little sister's bed," I teased him softly, "and she's almost entirely naked as well, stroking you slowly, taking her time... You must really be enjoying this..."

"I am..." Eric whispered.

"Good." For a long time, I continued stroking my big brother, occasionally adding more oil. And then, at last, I closed the bottle and wiped my hands on the towel, smiling down upon him as he lay there, almost pleading with his eyes, pleading for a release. Setting the oil and the towel on the floor, I stretched out beside him, cuddling with him.

"What would you do," I asked quietly, "if you little sister wanted you to cum on her?"

His response was simply to squeeze me, his erection still quite prominent between us.

"Straddle me," I whispered into his ear, and a moment later, my big brother was straddling my chest, one hand bracing himself against the headboard of the bed, the other hand stroking himself.

I closed my eyes and waited. I did not need to wait long before lines of white adorned my face and my neck. The masculine groans accompanying my big brother's release were beautiful, and for just a moment, I could have sworn that my heart would leap from my chest to join with his.

Eric was soon asleep on my bed. As I extinguished the candles, I watched him fondly, certain that he would indeed remember this night for a long time to come. I did not bother to wash my face and my neck before I returned to the bed, for it felt so right, so perfect, so fated to wear my big brother's love as I fell asleep in his protective arms.