disclaimer: I am an only child. This is the purest form of fantasy.
I laid on my bed to read my newest book. I was annoyed by the sound of the front door downstairs opening and closing. I knew it was Drew, my brother. He was three years older than me, and often reminded me about this fact throughout my life. I knew that he would be coming in to tell me about what he did in the car Mom and Dad bought him for graduation from college. I wouldn't graduate for three more years. I sometimes jabbed back at him about how he was still living at home even though he had his degree. So, for his amusement, he rubbed the car in my face. I had to wait for Mom or Dad to come home to go out. I did try to ignore him, but he saw through that. I waited and listened to his footsteps on the stairs. I looked out the window as a little rain started to come down, and then back to my book. I tried to make the words make sense. I felt some arousal, it is true, because the book was pretty hot at that point. I decided to put the book down on the sidetable.
I waited for him to come to my room. To my amazement he didn't come to me, immediately. That must have been the first time he had gone to his own room first. I picked my book back up. I smiled happily to myself, as I fell back into my book. I was finally starting to forget my brother's presence in the house. The words of the book took me away from my world.
I was aware of his footsteps as he left his room again. I knew he was coming into my room this time. I often knew what he was doing and what he was thinking. That was always the way I dealt with our rivalry throughout our adolescence. It drove him nuts when I picked up his thoughts or emotions. Over the years, he had learned how to live with it. Lately, I'd even noticed that he seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure from this connection. He was testing me a little, this afternoon. He wanted me to know he was coming into the room.
"So, you're reading again. Nothing on TV? Already got all your chores done? No friends coming over to rescue you from your boredom?"
"Funny. You go out looking for a job?"
"No, I went to Steve's for a little while. We had quite a few shots of Captain Morgan."
"Oh, there's a good use of your privilege to drive: drinking and driving." I added as much sarcasm to the last few words as I could muster. I could tell he was very drunk, though. He laughed right with me. He was never that nice to me unless he was drunk. I cocked one eyebrow at him. As I looked at him, I could feel his drunkenness. I looked at his dark blue eyes and perfectly symmetrical features, and a very distinct feeling came over me. I knew perfectly well what being drunk was like, and I felt his drunkenness. As he finished laughing at practically nothing, he looked back at me. The connection I had to him was much stronger with him drunk. I began to squirm and wished he would leave. Instead, he came to my bed and sat down.
I looked at the creases in the bedspread around his butt. He was wearing his oldest pair of black shorts. They looked very soft against the stiffness of the white bedspread. My eyes dragged over his body a little bit. I felt my cheeks flush a little. I was convinced it was just from the intoxication I was picking up in that strange telepathic link. I looked back at my book. The words were lost to me, though.
"What are you reading?"
"Nothing."
A flash of lightning caught both our attentions. A sting of lust broke into my thoughts. The rain intensified.
"I bet it's good. I could tell it was good. I could feel you getting all cozy with the book when I was in my bedroom. I wasn't going to come in here, since the buzz is still pretty good. But then I could just feel you - just like you said you were able to feel me. I had to come see you."
"You are really drunk, Drew."
"Yes, I am," he slurred, with dramatic effect.
He pushed a dark lock of hair out of his face. I looked at his perfectly careless haircut. I watched the lock of hair fall over his shoulder. I was familiar with the feeling that was building in my flesh. It was lust. I felt it before. I had felt it for Drew a few times over the years. It was easy to ignore. He was perfect, and my friends told me he was perfect. Most of my friends had dated him. It was annoying to know that this one person I could not have had been had by at least three of my best friends. I tried hard to draw that feeling back into the usual irritation he made me feel. The harder I tried to focus on that irritation, the stronger the desire grew. He took my book from me and read silently. I knew perfectly well he had found the sex scene. I'd read it and reread it a few times before he came home. His eyes were looking right at the spot where foreplay ended and sex began. There was a moment of pure terror when Drew looked away from the book to me.
"So, little sister, it was good. I was right."
"So? I'm bored and the story is damned good."
"Well, that means I
was
feeling what you felt, and that means that I'm still feeling what you're feeling, aren't I?"
"No!" I responded too quickly. That gave me away. He looked at me, and his cheeks flushed this time. He caught my eyes. He wouldn't let them go. He was trying to make me feel what he was feeling even more strongly.
"Oh, Alex, don't look away now. You can't lie."
"You need to get your drunk ass in the shower."
"You coming with me?"
"No!" My voice sounded shrill. I was beginning to panic. My body was responding to that panic. It was responding to something I didn't expect. It was responding to his own arousal. My breathing slowed. My skin tingled. I recognized this was forbidden fruit and it was the cause of this overwhelming desire. I also recognized he was starting to grin at me again. We both looked out the window as a bolt of lightning stuck in view. He smiled back at me.
"Ah, so you didn't feel everything I felt? You didn't know about this?"
"About what?" I trembled. I was nervous. My fingers were digging into the palms of my hands. I had my hands balled into fists, straight down the sides of my body, digging into the bed.
His throat let out the softest growl. He raised his hand to my arm. I couldn't convince myself to flinch away. I didn't care if he was doing this to make fun of me. I didn't care about anything but the way he softly ran his fingertips over the fair down hair of my arms. My eyes closed. The danger of the idea that he might be tricking me only increased my desire to feel his hands touch me in a way I'd only dreamt. I listened as peals of thunder accented shocks of electric pleasure from my bother's touch.
"Open your eyes, Alex. I want to see you look at me as I do this. I want to see that you really do want it like I do."
I opened my eyes, as he asked. I wanted to please him. There was no will to fight him.
"Oh, yeah... I can feel that you do want me." He closed his eyes, and I waited for them to open again. I wanted to look into him. Every sensation was burning me far beyond anyone I'd ever dated. I'd been waiting to have sex because I wanted it to feel just like this felt. I didn't know that I'd ever feel it. My body was waiting for Drew the whole time. I'd been so good at pretending that it wasn't there. That lie was falling to pieces around us in sparks of sexual tension.
His hand left my arm and he took off my shirt. His eyes were fixated on my breasts. His mouth opened a little bit.