I fucked my brother last night, Livy thought, a shiver running down her spine as she lay in bed. The morning sun slanted through the blinds and cast a striped pattern over the rumpled blankets, and the spot Adam so recently lay in was vacant.
Outside it was a crisp December day, and the house was silent, the rest of the family having gone out to brunch. Livy had begged off, faked sick, wanted time to think over the events of the previous night. Fucked my brother... and her hand slipped beneath the sheets, running over her pointed nipples, down the goose bumped flesh of her stomach, and into the wet spot between her thighs. It's wrong to fuck your brother, she thought as her finger tips played over her clitoris the way his did last night. But it felt so good.
He was home from college, a new person compared with the nervous high school graduate that left her in the Fall. Now he walked with an air of confidence, bolstered by his new popularity with the ladies at school, sporting mature, intelligent glasses and letting his curly hair grow long and wild. Mother hated it, of course, putting 'hair cut' on his list of vacation chores, but Livy liked the change.
She herself hadn't changed much in the four months he was gone. She moved into his room, repainted the walls, then it was life as usual, her own life as a community college student trickling by.
Then came the holidays, Adam returned, and Grandma and Grandpa came up from Florida to spend the week. They got Livy's-old-room-turned-guest-bedroom, and Mother set up a futon at the foot of Livy's bed for Adam.
"I'm sorry," she'd apologized. "This isn't ideal, but it's just for a couple of nights. I really thought they would want to stay at a hotel."
Brother, brother, brother. Her fingers swirled around her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body like radar echoing out from a single point. She replayed every moment behind her eyelids while her fingers slipped inside herself. Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!
The first night, he brushed his teeth with the bathroom door open and she watched silently from the bed as the shape of his cock jiggled back and forth in his pajama bottoms with each thrust of the brush. Her eyes explored his bare chest and the smooth curve of his back when he turned away to rinse. He came into the room and took off the foreign glasses, becoming her brother Adam again as he climbed under the futon covers. She went to sleep feeling very conflicted, knowing she should feel shame at having looked at him that way, but there was no feeling but lust inside her.
"Motherfucker this futon sucks." These were the words she awoke to the next morning as Adam sat up, clutching his back and grimacing.
"Well," she ventured, her heart racing involuntarily, "we could share the bed if you want. It's big enough."
He looked nervous too. Laughed. "That is my bed you're in. It's only fair."
So last night he climbed tentatively in beside her, being careful to respect the invisible line down the center of the bed. "Good night, sis."
"Night," she managed, although her throat felt very narrow and tight.
Then they lay next to each other in the dark, unmoving, each pretending to be asleep and each wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch the other. He turned his head toward her and Livy could smell the sweetness of his breath, felt the warmth radiating off his body. She surprised herself when her hand inched across the chasm between them and her index finger stroked his thigh.
She waited, her heart in her throat, for an objection. This isn't right. What are you doing? Only he said nothing, and, emboldened, she caressed the taut muscle of his leg again. Slowly, almost as though he were trying to feign sleep, he rolled his body toward her, his own hand snaking up and over her hip and to her back, and he held her close as their lips met.
In a mere instant her every nerve ending buzzed, her body felt on fire with sensation, and her pussy was slick and ready for him, her enlarged clit almost begging for him. His soft, cushiony lips were like heaven and she no longer felt guilty for not feeling guilty. She only felt Adam, the length of his body pressed firmly against hers.
Their kisses were passionate, hungry, the result of years of suppressed desire. In the first moment their bodies touched she knew he'd felt the same as she did, and now all the awkward silences in the car as they drove to school, the flushed cheeks at the pool in the summer, the sidelong glances when they watched movies with sex scenes, made perfect sense. He wanted to fuck her brains out, and she wanted to let him.
His hand ran down her back, fingernails scraping the skin deliciously, grabbed her by the ass and pulled her even closer, until there was no air to breathe between them. They were almost one, and she found with delight that as she ran her hands all over his body, exploring every part of him, he felt exactly like she'd always not quite allowed herself to imagine. He was home, comfort, security. His body was firm, warm, and she found her hands returning over and over to his strong biceps, and to the concave part of his chest where the hair was thick and she could twine her fingers into it and tug. He moaned when she did it, and she delighted in being able to make him react.
