The introduction to the first chapter explains that this story may not interest readers who don't like to read all the thoughts of the girl who is the main character. Just a warning. I still hope you enjoy it. It has to get more interesting with her all naked.
*
The next morning, I was a little apprehensive about really joining my brother Pete in the bathroom with nothing on. I had, however, warned him that I would; I couldn't chicken out now. Would he have taken my suggestion not to wear his shorts? At the bathroom door, I murmured:
"Don't look," and tried to appear nonchalance as I lowered the ring on the toilet and sat down, then adding softly: "Unless you want to."
My nipples sure didn't look nonchalant. I looked straight ahead at the shower. Had I really imagined he would also be naked? He wasn't. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head move, then he murmured:
"I wasn't sure you really would."
"I wasn't either, but I had said so, so why not, and since you have already seen me?"
"Hmm? I guess so."
I wiped a forearm over my erect nipples. It helped, until I started to wonder what to say. Could I ask if he would have left his shorts off, if he had thought that I would be naked? Oh, and my other question from the morning before: if she had done anything else with him? I didn't try to make my nipples relax again, knowing they would still be stiff, now that I was thinking about that, about what he had told me he did with her. My first question:
"And if you had been sure I would?"
"Hmm!? ... If I would have too?"
"Yeah, I guess that's what I was thinking."
"You wanted me to?"
"Well, like I said, it seems kind of silly putting something on, if we both sleep n... - that way."
"Hmm? ... You do want me to."
It wasn't a question; I didn't have to answer. He must have recognized that I want to see his cock. Had he, was he remembering what they had told me about it? He was beginning to wash the soap off his face; I had to say something:
"I wouldn't mind. Just seems kind of fair."
"'Kind of fair'," he murmured with his face still over the washbasin.
"Um-hmm," I murmured, hoping it encouraged him to think that was all I was suggesting.
He raised his head and looked at me in the mirror. Could he see my breasts in it, see that my nipples had popped out again? Had he ever seen them when they weren't?
"I don't know," he murmured and grabbed his towel, drying his face before he turned to me. Wasn't his cock pressing a little on the left leg of his boxer shorts? Whatever he was thinking, it knew that I wanted to see it. Of course, he must know it was like that, maybe just not that I could see it. I had long since wiped. I flushed and stood up. I was blushing a little. This wasn't like with my friend, both of us naked. He lowered his towel, that had also been hiding his eyes. They opened wider. If my nipples could be even stiffer -- it felt like it -- they were. In a pure reflex, my arm wiped over them again. It looked like he tried to repress a grin, then murmured:
"At least, you're blushing, and that didn't work."
It hadn't, they were still stiff, but then I could nod with wry smile, shrugging in response. Of course, I had wanted him to look, even though it had made me blush. He stared at me -- up and down -- and then murmured: "I'd better get out of here."
He did. "Had to get out," because his cock had been pressing even more against his shorts? Why hadn't I looked? I took my shower, recalling our conversation. At least, he hadn't said "no," and hadn't said anything about my being his sister; and wasn't "being fair" part of his sports ethics? Well, that was really a contrived excuse. But he hadn't said "no." Didn't guys like to have girls see them naked, like I liked being seen naked? Not just by guys, well only one, I also liked being naked with girls in the school showers after sports. Everyone must like to be naked.
While I was drying myself, the bathroom door open, he left his room and glanced back at me. I grinned, maybe after he had turned away, but he had looked, and seen that I had seen that he had. He couldn't be too bothered by admitting that he liked to see me naked.
At breakfast, although we again reverted to our accustomed roles with our parents, I thought he gave me a veiled smirk. If it was -- were, better English -- he had still been thinking about it -- also thinking about letting me see him naked? If he did, what was I going to say?!
That day we both had different things to do. Luckily, because my thoughts kept returning to our morning conversations and wondering whether he would have his shorts on the next morning. The panties I took in bed with me that night were still a little moist. We hadn't shared the bathroom in the evening. Was that good or bad, hopeful or discouraging, I wondered with my fingers in my pussy and rubbing my clitoris, then remembering that I could ask him if he did that too, thinking about Barbs.
The next morning -- the next morning! Through the door, I saw that he was naked! Slender hips, nice ass, at least from my minimal experience.
"Don't look," I warned him again, and went to the toilet. He had already turned down the ring for me.
"Don't you, either," he replied, adding: "just to be fair," but chuckling softly. Then he remarked: "But you're going to, so better now, before I do."
In the mirror, I saw him close his eyes tightly, his face covered with shaving cream, and he turned.
Oooh! His cock! I understood his remark. I had only seen my friend's when it was aroused and then all small, when we were getting dressed. Pete's was somewhere in between: it was still hanging down, but bigger than my friend's had been, when we were getting dressed. And it looked different, a fold of skin covering its head. Not quite; the tip of it was peeking out, and while I looked, more of it was visible. He still had his eyes shut. What would happen if -- when -- he opened them and saw me with my aroused nipples? I wanted to know - of course!
