My name is Jake and I am 21 years old. I still live at home with my mom, dad, and my autistic sister Abby, who is 25 years old. This is the story of how our relationship and bond deepened. There's a lot of emotions to try to get across with this, and a lot of information to disperse, so if it all seems jumbled around I am sorry. I'm no George R. R. Martin.
I was probably around 6 years old when I started realizing Abby was different from other people. She was brilliant for her age, quiet and reserved, and she was very particular about things. Her toys, clothes, books, and everything else had to be in a certain order, all with it's own little place, all labeled with Abby's prescribed name. The labeling didn't stop at her things, however. Every single item that Abby may end up using is labeled, even if it already has labeling on the packaging. I'm talking everything. Toilet. Sink. Door. Couch. Chair. Table. Bleach. Bread. It was like an obsession, and my parents went along with it when she was younger expecting it to change. It never did.
That's something I love about Abby, she never changes. When she was 10 years old she seemed to have the maturity of a young adult, and now as a young adult she is her same old self that she's always been. One thing about Abby has changed, however, and that's my relationship with her. It all started 4 years ago. We were on a family vacation in Myrtle Beach, I never got the impression Abby really liked our family vacations, but she tolerated them. But she never, not once in her life, swam. I'm not sure why, she didn't seem scared of the water by the way she'd sit poolside with her feet in the water, she just always refused to fully get in and swim.
Well one day, when I dragged her down to our rented condos pool, she fell in. Just like that. She was walking by the pool in her jean shorts and tee shirt, I called something out to her causing her to turn, stumble, and fully submerge in the 7 foot deep pool. I immediately dove in after her, getting her head above water as quickly as possible. She did her best to doggy paddle, but really her limbs were just flailing wildly, desperately trying to keep her above the surface. Once I had her in my arms, she calmed and let me carry her to the edge of the pool, where I helped her out and she sat on the edge of the pool.
"Thanks." She whispered.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, and mopped her wet, jet black hair out of her face. She was visibly shaking.
"You sure?"
She nodded again, and then wrapped her arms around my neck to hug me. Hugs from Abby were rare occasions, usually reserved for special moments. Sometimes they'd come at complete random and take you by surprise, but typically you'd get a hug from her when you either really needed it, or you did something particularly nice for her. I guess saving her from drowning might qualify as particularly nice.
I hugged her back, enjoying the intimacy I rarely get to share with my sister, until she unwrapped her arms from my neck. She pulled at her shirt and jean shorts, obviously displeased with her being soaked. I pulled myself out of the pool, stood, and extended my hand out to her. "Come on, let's go get you changed." She took my hand with a slight smile and I helped her stand, and we held hands all the way back to the condo.
Following this, me getting a hug from Abby was no longer a rare occasion, it turned into a daily occasion. More than hugs, different kinds of physical intimacy too. Holding hands more, or random touches here and there, cuddling in bed or on the couch, she even started giving me a peck on the cheek. It changed so much so that by the time I was 18 we were probably as close as siblings could get without seeming strange.
I loved it. Physical touch was my love language, I hugged my mom, dad, friends, and now that I could walk up and hug my sister who I loved so dearly when I wanted it was like a dream come true. But there was just one issue, Abby was not stopping her ever so slow escalation of our intimacy. Three years ago she first kissed me on the lips. A short, small peck that I understandably thought was a mistake meant for my cheek, until it happened again. And again. And again. My parents waved it off, even thought it was a good thing, and that it might help her, "get out of her shell". And maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. It wasn't, really. But the boners I'd get from them... now that's bad.
What can I say? She was my first kiss, and I couldn't help myself. And once I crossed the barrier of masturbating with my sister on my mind, the fantasies just got worse and worse until I was imagining having sex with her. It also caused me to look at her in ways I never imagined, checking out her butt, her chest, even her feet. It didn't help that she didn't seem to have any self awareness about how she dressed around the house. Panties and tank-top, always.
I guess now is as good a time as ever to describe us, Abby stands a measly 5 Feet and 1 inch tall, weighing in at just around 100 pounds. She has long, jet black hair that she cuts constantly to keep "nipple length". Her words, not mine, and I'm not sure why. She has hazel brown eyes, perfectly straight white teeth, and a cute slightly upturned nose that makes her look like a Who from Whoville from certain angles. She has thin curved lips, and a serious, pouty brow that can make her look almost intimidating to strangers. Her breasts, well they're breasts. I'm no expert but I'd say a small B Cup? I don't know, she doesn't wear bras. She has a nice round bottom, perky but with full cheeks that can just about hide her panties between them.
I share my sister's jet black hair and hazel eyes, but that's as far as our physical similarities go. I am 6 foot and 2 inches tall, 210 pounds. Bit pudgy, but a bit of muscle on me as well. I keep clean shaven, and have been told I have a gentle, friendly face. My dick is 6 and a half inches long, perverts.
Anyway, now to the point of the story and reason for the title. Ever since I could remember Abby had kept a diary. Last time I saw, she had over a dozen used diaries completely filled, each 100 pages. For someone who sometimes only speaks a couple dozen words a day, that's insane. It's quite possible there are more words written in those pages than my sister has said her entire life, and they're locked away from me. No one, and I mean no one can read her diaries. She keeps the filled ones in her closet with a padlock only she has the key to, and the one she currently uses is either always on her, locked away with her used ones, or hidden very well.
As you can imagine I'd always been incredibly curious as to just what she was writing in there. There was just so much Abby seemingly had to say that she just... didn't. And it was all right there, just out of my grasp. Until one day it wasn't.
Abby had somehow gotten COVID, this was back in mid 2021, right in the middle of COVID lockdowns being lifted and everyone in our household was vaccinated. I'd already made my peace with the fact that if she was getting it, I was getting it, and I'd hold her in bed for quite some time most nights until she was able to fall asleep. One night, after she'd fallen asleep and I was able to slip out of bed, I noticed something that surprised me. She'd left the key in the padlock. Deathly sick as she was, Abby was so particular about things I didn't believe my eyes at first, but they weren't lying.
Quietly, I tip toed over to her closet door, pulled the lock open, and slowly opened the closet door while my heart thudded in my chest. There they were. The books I hadn't seen in years. They were labeled by date, first entry to last entry. I grabbed the first book on the pile, the most recently completed one, and opened it to a random page.
October 26th, 2019
This morning I woke up at 8:00 AM, used the restroom, brushed my teeth, showered, and then dressed. After dressing I left my room, heading downstairs for breakfast. As I passed Jake's door I heard him masturbating again, right on schedule. I stopped and listened until he ejaculated this time, Mother nor Father would be likely to catch me at this time on a Saturday, and it was quite exciting to be doing something so naughty. Afterwards I walked down the steps to join Mother in the kitchen, and since I was feeling delightful this morning I verbally greeted her. She was making my favorite breakfast on Saturday's, two pancakes with three blueberries each. I was feeling so well I asked her for three tablespoons of syrup, rather than two. Jake and Father joined us shortly, I studied Jake's right hand to see if there were any dried ejaculate like there had been before, but I did not spot any and was disappointed.
I stopped reading and looked at Abby sleeping in bed. What the fuck? I was so taken aback. After the initial shock wore off, I started growing hard, and wanted very badly to keep reading. I flipped a couple pages, and read again.
November 12th, 2019
This morning I woke up at 8:00 AM, used the restroom, brushed my teeth, showered, and then dressed. After dressing I left my room, heading downstairs for breakfast. As I passed Jake's door I did not hear him masturbating, and was disappointed. Afterwards I walked down the steps and nodded to my mother, she was making my favorite breakfast on Tuesdays, plain scrambled eggs with toast. I was feeling so displeased this morning I did not opt for any butter on my toast.
