Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and all characters are of legal age. It contains adult content and is intended for mature readers. This material is the copyrighted intellectual property of the author. Feedback is welcome at the address in my profile.
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Chapter 1: The Private Place
Mix sat in the closet with her little nightlight in one hand and her pencil in the other, scribbling her sketches in her drawing pad like she did every day.
Mix was a peculiar name for a girl, even she would readily admit that, but she was rather fond of it. It was a nickname of course, a warped version of her full name, Mindy, and a play on her passion for comic books. ("Comics, comix, 'mix, get it?") It did become frustrating having to explain it to others over and over again, mostly adults it seemed. Younger people didn't seem to have as much a problem with it.
Mix sat in the large closet of the empty guest room as she did every day. This was her private place, where no one ever bothered her. This was the place where she could escape and not worry about others finding her. This was the place where she could read those forbidden stories she'd find online, where she could draw her erotic sketches that she never showed anyone, where she could play with herself when her urges became too great.
She imagined that everyone her age must have a private place, and this closet was hers. She lived in a big house, and her parents and siblings never bothered her here. She made sure not to stay gone for too long, just in case anyone would decide to look for her. A half hour every day was enough -- sometimes a full hour or even a little longer when she lost track of time, but that didn't happen too often.
She looked at the blank page of her sketch pad, trying to decide what to draw next. She had been drawing since she was a toddler, and she had a chest full of sketchpads and notebooks filled with doodles. She proudly showed most of them to her family and friends. They lauded her skill, so refined at such a young age, and not a single lesson. She was thinking of going to school for art, but her whole life was ahead of her and she hadn't made a decision yet. For now, drawing was just a pleasant hobby, like her stories and her comics.
Comics had fascinated her, especially the ones about superheroes. Her friends would tease her for being so obsessed with such childish things. "Why are you wasting your time on kids' stuff?" they'd say, or "Aren't comic books for boys?" She didn't care about the teasing, and the questions and snide comments were annoying, but she could deal with them.
The simple answer was that comic books showed the beauty of the human body in simple line drawings -- and Mix quickly learned that she could draw those bodies too. With a mere few lines, she could create people and have them do anything she wanted. Her imagination ran wild. She invented characters, she created stories. It was the most amazing thing.
The sketch pad she held in her hand was one of the few that she didn't dare show anyone else. It was full of naked bodies, beautifully drawn. Some were posed innocently, with just a hint of eroticism (which made them even more erotic, in her mind), while others were uninhibited, engaging in the most sexual acts her young mind could imagine. Drawing such things was a release for her, since she was still a virgin. Yes, she'd made out with boys, even let them touch her, but she hadn't gone "all the way" yet. Not yet. She could put her fantasies on paper and in some way it felt almost as good as the real thing.
As she began to sketch a lovely female face, she heard the door to the room creak open. She quickly turned off her handheld light and peaked through the closet's old-fashioned keyhole. No one would see her and there would be no reason for anyone to look in the closet since nothing was in there except some extra pillows, blankets, and bed sheets. But she had a clear view of the guest room through the keyhole.
She saw her brother Nico enter the room and lock the door behind him.
"Why would he lock the door?" she thought. She herself never locked the door when she was in there, because she feared it would raise unnecessary suspicions. She was curious now to see what Nico was up to. She thought this room was her own private place. She never considered that others in her family might use it as a sanctuary themselves.
Nico had a small hand towel in one hand and what looked like a 4x5 inch picture in the other. Mix squinted to see what it was but she couldn't make it out. But it was definitely a picture, she could see that.
Nico dropped the picture and the hand towel on the bed and turned toward the closet door. Mix felt her heart skip a beat and almost gasped. It looked as if Nico was looking right at her! But she soon realized that she had nothing to worry about. Her presence was still undiscovered. Nico couldn't see her peeking through the keyhole. Instead, Nico was looking at his own reflection. A full-length mirror was nailed to the closet door and her brother was simply looking at himself.
Nico was a handsome young man, a dedicated athlete. He suffered from a bit of vanity, but he had a good heart. Mix loved him with all her might. She suppressed a little giggle as she saw him gently play with his hair, making faces at himself in the mirror, his guard down, unaware that he was being watched.
He then proceeded to take off his tee-shirt. He had a great body. He didn't really work out too much, but he had a naturally hot physique thanks to all the sports he played. Mix knew that all her friends at school would give anything to be with him. He was quite a catch -- strong, handsome, smart.
Mix had some dreams herself about her older brother Nico, although she always felt so guilty afterwards. But she couldn't help it. He was so attractive.
She looked at his torso now. His chest was so broad, his abs so flat, his biceps and his "six-pack" so enticing. No drawing she could ever do could capture that perfection. Mix wanted to run her fingers across his skin, to feel his tight muscles.
She started feeling guilty again and almost looked away when she saw to her amazement that Nico had begun to take his pants off. "What on earth is he doing?" she thought.
He threw his pants on the floor next to his tee-shirt and took off his socks. He stood there, then, in nothing but his boxers, admiring his body in the mirror. He flexed a little, and Mix forced herself again to hold back a laugh.
But her impulse to laugh quickly faded when she saw the bulge. Yes, the bulge that she loved so much to draw on all her male characters. Even with clothes on, she'd draw that little line, that little hint of a package in all the fictional men and boys she drew, young or old. In comics, you could get away with it and no one would pay too much attention, since anatomy was often so exaggerated. But she loved drawing it. Even in her "innocent" artwork, she'd add that hint of the bulge.
She stared mesmerized by the bulge in her brother's boxers. "He's hard!" she thought, almost blurting it out loud.
Nico went over to the bed and picked up the small photograph he had dropped there. He stared at it for a while and then with his free hand he adjusted his crotch. He pulled off his boxer shorts in a quick fluent motion.
