My Teddy Bear

Thanks to radlas1984 for editing support

The opening chapter is long, but I promise the second chapter is worth the wait ;-)

Any character featuring in a sexual situation in this story is over the age of 18

***

Leaning back, still breathless, against my closed bedroom door. Trying to calm my breathing, to reassemble myself after what's just happened. I only have a few seconds, the shout for dinner came up minutes ago and it will look suspicious if I'm any later.

I glance at myself in the large mirror opposite. Complete disarray. Hair a mess; blouse partially undone and bra strap off the exposed shoulder; shorts creased and stained, still unzipped, pink pants peeking out from inside. My face and chest are burning red, and I'm panting like I've just finished a mile sprint. My knees and the palms of my hands are scratched raw. Fortunately, I wasn't wearing makeup or that would be everywhere too.

"CLAIRE! DINNER!" Comes another shout from below. Out of time. Frantically adjusting, I scamper out the room, trying to fix things as I go. Mind a blur of emotions and confusion. Racing down, bare feet pounding on the stairs, round the corner into the kitchen to face my family.

***

Returning home amidst the pandemic had been a mission in itself. My battered old Micra finally gave up the ghost after turning off the A1 at Colsterworth. I'd already had a tyre blowout on the M60 five miles out of Manchester and waited almost eight hours for a dodgy local bloke to sort me out with a part-worn replacement because the stupid car never came with a spare. Two hundred quid he charged me, claiming that he shouldn't even be working due to the virus. And he spent the whole time staring at my legs while I sulked on the verge. The car managed most of the remaining 145 miles but failed me with just ten to go and I was forced to ring the house for a rescue.

I had been very surprised when Ted answered the phone. He hadn't been living at the house for more than a year, so I was relieved that I didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of telling Dad how badly I'd let the car deteriorate during the past couple of years at uni. Ted said he'd be right there and half an hour later I had loaded my bags into his work van and was trying to settle my boney arse into the weirdly high and hard passenger seat in the cab. I looked back with sadness at the (t)rusty steed as we set off for the last few miles towards Spalding, and home.

"Thank you so much Ted. I'm sooo glad I didn't have to grovel to Dad and put up with his motor maintenance wisdom."

"No worries Pips. I wasn't doing anything and I'm just glad I got to the phone first. You'll have to tell him something though. I needed an excuse to leave the house and had to say I was coming to get you..."

"I know... I'll think of something. Maybe the car got dinged in the street outside my flat and wasn't in a state to drive... Can you tell them you picked me up from the station?"

"Sure thing." He glanced at me with his cheeky grin.

"So are you on furlough or something?"

"Not yet, self-employed are getting shafted right now. Government's assuring us we'll get support, but it's taking bloody ages. And obviously nobody wants routine plumbing work done at the moment. Had a couple of emergency call outs which has helped pay the bills. Also, well..." he trailed off, eyes on the road.

I had a feeling what he was going to say next. "I was a bit surprised you answered the phone. Are you living at home again?"

"Yeahhhhh." A long pause. "Broke up with Steph in, uh, February. So back at home. No rent to pay at least."

I reached over and briefly touched his hand. This was horrible news, despite his brave face. Horrible for him at any rate: he'd been head over heels for Steph since they got together a couple of years ago. Mum and Dad had always been deeply suspicious of Steph, the busty horse trainer from Norfolk, and were probably very relieved that Ted was out of that relationship. I had mixed feelings. I knew Steph a little; my friend Becca had dated her brother for a year before getting pregnant in 2018 and married in a classic East Midlands shotgun wedding type affair, and in the months surrounding all this drama I'd spent a fair bit of time with Becs and her new in-laws to be. Steph was sweet, if needy, and honestly a bit dim, but I had thought she was loyal and a safe enough bet for Teddy.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?"

He was quiet for what felt like a long while. Started trying to talk a couple of times and failing to get the words out. Eventually I just shushed him and said we could talk another time.

"No hurry Teddy, I get it." Changing the subject, "How's it been living with Mum and Dad again?"

"Bloody nightmare Pips. Dad's going off the deep end with the coronavirus, really fired up like he gets. It's all a fake, and a Chinese weapon or some shit."

"Like *both* of those things could be true," I laughed, and he did too.

"You're going to drive him up the wall Pips," he warned. "He won't take kindly to his too-clever eldest pricking holes in his nonsense." I nodded. I knew it of course, it was always tense when I came home these days, and in an atmosphere like this it would be especially bad.

"I know. I'll watch my mouth. I'll just be quiet when Dad starts up with his Tory shit." Ted cast his eyes at me and shook his head slightly. I knew he didn't think I'd be able to keep my trap shut. It was always how it went - Dad would end up provoking me to react and then it was me vs. him while the rest of the family quietly excused themselves. "No, really." I said with conviction. "I've had enough debating Covid back at uni. Dad can say what he likes."

***

I'm sitting at the table, fighting the rising blush in my neck and cheeks. I feel hot, shameful, and absolutely certain that everybody knows exactly what I'm trying to hide from them. The stink of sex and of his cum dribbling out of me is so strong I can't even smell the food Dad's just put in front of me, and I'm acutely aware of the disarray I'm in from the frenzied fucking I received less than five minutes ago.

Forcing myself to act normally, I reach up to adjust my top, push some of the stray hair behind an ear, and jerk the glass of water to my lips to try and cool off. I try to hear the voices of my family over the pounding in my ears.

"... heard the Prime Minister say that they'll review the lockdown again in three weeks. Three more weeks!"

"Looking pretty hopeless for our holiday then, isn't it?"

"It's just outrageous. It's not like we'd be in close quarters with anyone while we're there. If anything we'll be more distanced than we are here!"

"Of course Daniel, but it's the travel..."

I feel like I'm kidding myself when I feel the relief of boredom at Mum and Dad's endless repetition of this argument about their holiday in Greece. Dad's indignation that the pandemic would dare to interfere with his plans; Mum's patient coddling to soothe his temper. At least five times a day for the last month we've heard this conversation replay itself. Maybe they really are too self-involved to notice their daughter's wanton appearance at the family meal. Thank god Joanie is doing her usual dinner time sulk in her room. I have a horrid feeling she'd see exactly what had happened and announce it to the world like a bell.

For the first time since we came downstairs, I allow myself to glance at my brother. I catch him turning his eyes away and looking intently at the pasta on his plate, a flash of red in his face. At the sight of him, the heat surges in my cheeks too, but this time it isn't shame. My soiled cunt is burning too, and cramping with want. I'm staring at him now, shifting gingerly as I cross my thighs for the dozenth time since sitting down, and I feel the squelching jizz in my knickers.

*Get a hold of yourself Claire. It's just dinner. Ten minutes, twenty tops, and you can excuse yourself and hide away upstairs. Teddy's on the verge of losing it too, you have to hold it together. For both of you.*

*Swallow. Breathe.*

"Mum, can you pass the salad..."

***

We settled into comfortable silence for the last few miles. Ted was always quieter and would take a bit of time to come out of his shell when I got home. And we really did have plenty of time. The whole world was shutting down and we'd be locked in back at the house. Our sister Joanie would be a festering teenage rage ball and no fun to be around, so Ted and I would have to be each others' social circle for god knows how long.

Ted was only 13 months younger than me, but having gone straight into trade when leaving school he was by now firmly in a proper, well-paying career. He'd always been a quiet and thoughtful kid but had struggled all his life with really severe dyslexia, and school hadn't been a good fit for him. He'd taken to plumbing like a duck to water and earned the respect of all his managers throughout his apprenticeship through being on the ball, easygoing, and diligent. He made such a good impression that everyone he encountered on his route to certification went out of their way to help him out with any of the written work that he would struggle with, and once he had qualified he was immediately offered gigs by all of the employers he'd worked with. Last year he'd finally decided to try setting up a business of his own and I'd only heard positive things. It was tough to hear that he'd taken a hit with the lockdown, but of all the careers his was probably among the safest in the long run.

I, on the other hand, stayed the course with school and had gone straight to university. I'd been indecisive and gone for Philosophy, Politics, and Economics, which seeing as I wasn't studying at Oxbridge and hadn't been to a posh school was unlikely to get me on an easy Whitehall career path, but it was broad and useful and interesting which was all I cared about at the time. Now with the world economy taking a massive nosedive the prospects from my degree were looking much shakier. Despite the Covid fuckery with final exams, I wasn't going to graduate with top grades, but just below. Fuck knows what, if any, use the degree would be to me in finding work in this environment. And to cap it all, I wasn't even eligible for any furlough as I'd chucked in my part time job in January to focus on my final term. I was broke and only getting broker with the lockdown.

Because we were so close in age, Ted and I were often mistaken for twins when growing up. We had both inherited almost all of Mum's traits - like her we were tallish with a slender build, pale skinned and blonde in imitation of her distant Scandi ancestry. We both had Dad's green eyes though, and Teddy had picked up Dad's brother's dyslexia. These days Ted was a rather more strapping figure, constantly active and lifting stuff with his work, while I by contrast had definitely gained a stone or so of dissertation chub. I'd failed to keep my exercise up when locked in for long hours writing about, amusingly enough, the resilience of international markets to large scale disasters (spoiler alert: it's shit.) And it had been winter so I'd even more reason to excuse myself from keeping up with my running. I'd already done the marathon earlier last year and had no plans for another any time soon - studying had been the focus. I was definitely going to need to start it up again when I got home, otherwise I'd be locked in with the family all day.

"Ugh, I wish we could stop at the Poacher for a drink before going home. I do not feel ready for Dad yet. And when we get through the door I know you and I won't have another chance to chat for hours."

"True enough Pips. But don't worry - I've got some fine rum and good whisky in my room, let's crack them open after dinner."

"You're the very best brother Teddy, you know that?"

He just smiled and turned the van into Mum & Dad's driveway. Back again. Contradictory thoughts of comfort and of familial tension surged as I saw the old brick house for the first time since a brief stay at Christmas. This visit was likely to last a long time.

***

I manage to stop the bathroom door just short of a slam, closing it the last inches as gently as I can manage. Turn the lock a little too forcefully and rush to the sink, splashing myself with cold water and gripping the side, panting, trying to control my breath.

Kicking off my shorts and peeling the sticky knickers off my crotch I slump onto the loo, head in my hands.

*Get a grip. Get a fucking grip.*

At least the rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Dad had managed to monopolise the entire conversation and for once, I was glad of it. I scoffed down the food and cleaned the table, managing to stack the dishwasher before the trembling in my thighs and burning in my tummy managed to overwhelm me.

Now I'm here, on my own at last, trying to get a hold of myself. With ruined pants around my knees and his cum slowly oozing out of me, the smell of my sex and his is all around me. He fucked me like a champion within the last three quarters of an hour and I'm still *so fucking turned on*. All I can think about is his strong embrace, the solid chest that sent my knees weak just seeing it, his hands up my shirt, mauling my boobs as he pulled me back onto his... That cock! *His* cock, that stretched and filled me in exactly the way I needed...

***

My own brother! In retrospect the tension had been building for weeks. Of course it had. Five weeks. It took just five weeks of living in social isolation to drive me round the bend with horniness and onto the only willing cock available. Since scrambling back from university in early April, I'd become an increasingly frenetic oversexed mess of a human, denied the casual outlet of my FWB flatmate back in Manchester and rapidly bored with getting myself off, I guess you could say my eventual downfall was guaranteed. Both of us suddenly, enforcedly celibate and with only each others' company to keep us sane. The first night's glass of rum or whisky had become a regular thing: a couple of hours of boozy chat to reacquaint ourselves with each others' lives. Last week, about a month since I got home, he'd suggested picking up some weed from his friend with a grow house near Lincoln, and when we snuck out to the bottom of the garden to get stoned, like naughty teenagers, I realised we'd hit that vibe of being truly, deeply comfortable with each other's company once again.

I had felt great at that moment. I hadn't been able to connect with him like this since he'd got together with Steph. It wasn't that she wouldn't let him out to do things, more that she was clingy and just... always there. It had been impossible to just talk to Ted, it was always talking to Steph and Ted, and naturally that had driven a bit of a wedge between us. I don't think I'd noticed it at the time, but as we began to mend the rift this Spring, I definitely realised what had previously happened.

In the first weeks, a bit too loose from the rum, I'd blurted out something about feeling horny, that I was missing my fuckbuddy roommate Charlie. I'd thought it was TMI and started to apologise, but Ted was unfazed. He murmured his assent and said something indistinct but I could make out the words 'Steph' and 'insatiable.' I guessed the mild-seeming girl had been a bit of a firecracker, and if Ted had been used to meeting her needs (and presumably with appetites of his own) he would be blue-balled to hell by now.

"Did you have time to date at all, before the lockdown?"

He grumbled. "No - was too messed up at first and before I knew it, everything was shut down. One of my emergency clients tried it on with me after I said something about the breakup, but she was a bit frumpy and I wasn't that desperate yet. And her husband was in the house."

"Yet?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah Pipsi. Christ, if I was back there now I'd probably give in. She ain't that bad."

I laughed and got up to pee. When I got back he'd refilled my drink. The moment had passed, and we started playing a game on his Nintendo, drinking and laughing until the small hours.

But since that first mention of sex and our mutual frustrations, my thoughts kept straying back to some of the things he'd said. Occasionally similar themes would emerge in our meandering conversations, giving me even more to dwell on. My imagination began to construct elaborate stories about Steph and her mysterious needs, the dark secret that I still didn't know, and Teddy of course, the hapless/lucky lad (could never decide which) bound up in the middle of it. I wasn't quite fantasising, not yet. But looking back, it was certainly inoculating my brain to being able to entertain sexy thoughts and thoughts of my brother at the same time.

So when we had our first stoned conversation, a week ago, lying on the garden lawn under the half moon, I felt completely natural asking him how he was getting on with his horniness problem. I guess I had subconsciously already decided I was going to tell him about my boredom with masturbation, that my fingers had seemingly worn away my genitals' capacity for excitement, and that I was seriously in need of some human contact. But consciously, it felt like an innocent enough question, voicing sisterly concern even if on a topic not usually shared between boy and girl siblings.

I also hadn't been expecting the frankness of his response.

"Nearly two weeks since I last did anything about it. Can't stop thinking about it though."

"What, since you last had a wank?" I was incredulous.

"Yeah. I was just getting bored. I was doing it too much, and it was just... I don't know. Just mechanical. Like clearing out the pipes. I'm still thinking about it all the bloody time though."

I was up on my elbows, sparking the lighter to reignite the joint we were sharing. "The lads I've had in my life could never go that long without a shag, or at least wanking. I'm sure it's dangerous or something."

He snorted. "That's just what they tell you when they want to get in your pants, Pipsqueak." I blew a cloud of smoke in his face and jabbed at him with my finger. Even though it was essentially the same name as the Pips or Pipsi he often called me, I still hated the Pipsqueak nickname he'd first invented back when he overtook me in height at age 15. "Surely Miss University is smart enough to know when a boy is bullshitting her for sex," he winked.

I laughed, passing him the joint. "Bio was never my strong suit. It sounded plausible enough for me. Or maybe I just *wanted* to believe it so I could get my leg over and feel noble about helping some poor lad out."

He puffed out a long crest of smoke, coiling up into the night and shimmering as it passed over the moon. "How about you?"

"What, wanking?"

"Yeah. Or whatever it's called when girls do it."

I frowned. "I don't think we call it anything special mate. It's hardly deserving of a more genteel word."

"Bit less messy, though innit?"

That made me laugh, and cough as I inhaled, I nodded and conceded that was usually true. "Well I'm trying a new strategy. I call it..." holding the joint between us and waggling it, "the twenty a day plan."

His turn to laugh. "Blimey, really? How's that working out for you?"

"It's not, honestly. You put your finger on it, -" A smirk. *Ahem*. "I mean you *said* it," I was blushing furiously while he giggled a wheezy smokey laugh. "It's no fun, just mechanical. I can come but the spark is gone."

"Sounds like we're in the same boat. And neither of us with any prospect of getting any for probably months yet."

"It's a pity you're my brother or we could be doing it right now."

Another long, slow exhale. More shimmering smoke in the moonlight. We both shivered after what I'd just said, and it was not a cold night. Our eyes had been locked, but we jerked them apart at the same moment. I fussed with a loose thread on my shorts, and he muttered something about rolling another joint.