This is the second part of Andrew and Charlie's story. It is advised that you read Chapter 1 before continuing. Thank you all once again! - GG
--
I woke up to a gentle nudge on my arm. Blinking away sleep, I looked up into my brother's wry grin. Snapping my head away, I was surprised to see others around us, standing and collecting their belongings from the overhead bins.
"Hey," my dad called over to me, grinning. "You managed to get some sleep."
"Yeah," I responded, mind foggy and a little confused. "I guess so."
I heard a low chuckle come from Andrew. "You're welcome," he murmured, for my ears only. "Again."
I shot out of my seat, unwilling to even think about what had occurred during the flight and
why
I had managed to finally find some sleep on the plane.
I avoided Andrew the entire way through the airport, all the way to the short stay parking lot where our Aunt Heather was waiting for us. It was pitch black and very late, but that didn't stop her from jumping out of her car and giving each of us a bone-crushing hug.
We got everything packed into the car and took our seats. Dad took the passenger seat, which left me in the middle beside mom and Andrew. I could feel my brother's eyes on me as we drove from the airport, but I refused to pay him any attention. Not after what happened, not when my mind was such a tangled mess.
His hand dropped to his upper thigh, long fingers spread out on the hard muscle. I tried to not be aware of it when his pinky skated a little closer, and closer, before finally brushing my bare leg ever so slightly. Maybe it was because of what had happened on the plane, but the gentle whisper of a touch send tingles straight to my pussy. My breath hitched in my throat as Andrew applied a little more pressure. As if he knew what was plaguing my brain, he rubbed that little finger soothingly along my thigh. It felt so nice, so reassuring, but I didn't want any of it. I didn't want it to feel good, didn't want it to make my pussy clench. It was wrong, so so wrong.
I pulled my leg away until Andrew's finger finally fell away. Once more I felt his heavy gaze on me, willing me to look his way, but I wouldn't. I focused only on the dark road and Aunt Heather's complaints about the weather recently.
With our arrival being so late, once we reached Aunt Heather's house, we were simply shown our rooms and left to get ready for bed. Mom and dad were downstairs, in the basement room, while Andrew and I had separate rooms upstairs. Saying a quick goodnight to my parents and Aunt, I hurried along to my room. The door was open when I heard him -
"Charlie-"
I didn't give him the chance to say whatever it was he was planning to say. I shut the door -- perhaps a little too harshly -- and sagged against it.
How,
how
had things become so fucked up in a matter of hours. What happened on the plane was on my mind constantly, in a never ending loop. Andrew's hand on me, his fingers touching me, fucking me,
inside
me, giving me a sinful amount of pleasure. It was sick.
I
was sick for enjoying it so much. And I know Andrew wanted to talk, wanted to reassure me, because he was a good big brother like that, but I couldn't face him right now. I was humiliated. It made no sense, he was just as involved as I had been -- maybe more so, since it was all his doing in the first place -- but that didn't seem to matter to the self conscious part of me. Because it was
me
who got off on it, it was
me
who moaned into his arm,
me
who drove those skilled fingers deeper into my pussy, and it was
my
pussy that came all over him.
I felt heat spread throughout my body, along with shame. I was beginning to get wet again. This could not happen. I quickly changed into an oversized shirt and fresh panties and slid into bed, burrowing into the soft sheets. But if I had thought that my mind would simply switch off and let me sleep, I was sadly mistaken. In the dark quiet of my room, the memories from earlier this evening were louder, more vivid in my mind. I clenched my thighs together, groaning out loud. Fuck, why was this happening?
It was something I couldn't answer as my fingers drifted down my body, over my breasts and stomach, delving into my panties. I was soaked. I rubbed my clit, unwilling to admit to what I was doing but also fully aware of the vision that was in my mind as I played with myself.
Dipping my fingers inside my wet pussy, I told myself that this would help. I needed this, needed to get it out of my system. Just one time, that would be enough. As I rationalized it in my mind, I started fucking myself a little harder. I rode my hand desperately, thinking of that forbidden act between my brother and I. I knew then that I was sick. Getting off on it once had been bad enough, but fantasizing about it again, mere hours later? Something was broken inside me for sure.
But I was so horny I didn't have it in me to care in that moment. In my mind, my fingers became my brother's, and we were on that plane, in full view of unknowing eyes.
My toes curled and my hips jerked up as I came around my fingers. I bit my lip to stop from crying out, cognizant enough of the rest of my family that were sleeping peacefully all around me.
I pulled my fingers out, wiping the sticky residue over my stomach, then my tits. Andrew had wiped himself clean, and the memory of that image alone was enough to have me considering if I should play with myself again.
Instead, I sighed loudly into the dark room and turned onto my side, guilt wrapping around me.
Yep, Charlie
I thought to myself as I drifted.
You are one sick bitch.
--
The next day was spent catching up with Aunt Heather and her husband George. They were eager to know about my graduation and Andrew's first year at college, along with the 'adult' gossip from back home, which my mom supplied in abundance.
Despite my Aunt's complaints last night, the sun was shining brightly, and there was a warm breeze flowing. It was a perfect summers day. We all hung out in the garden, enjoying the company and the sun. Andrew and I didn't talk at all, and he made no move to come to me. Either he'd gotten the hint, or he, too, found me disgusting. I can't say that either scenario was appealing to me.
The day went on, and for dinner we decided on a barbecue in the yard. We all sat outside as we ate, with Andrew choosing a seat to my right. Because we weren't exactly on speaking terms, I paid him no mind, even though my eyes flitted to him every now and then.
Mom and Heather soon started on the wine, and George and my dad were well onto their third beers. Andrew, being older and a boy, I guess, was allowed to indulge in a little alcohol, unlike me. I found it totally unfair, and made a point to voice my opinion, not that it mattered to anyone else for all the attention they gave it.
When none of the adults were looking, I felt a nudge to my arm. Looking down, Andrew discretely held out his beer to me. My eyes trailed up to his face, the first time I willingly looked at him since we got off the plane. He wasn't looking at me, instead he was casually feigning interest in George and dad's conversation. Looking back down at his fingers wrapped around the glass bottle, the same fingers that had been thrusting inside me, I felt my stomach drop as I clenched my thighs together.
I darted from my seat suddenly, knocking over some things on the table and earning a few looks from my family. Muttering an apology, I practically ran inside and shut myself in the downstairs bathroom.
Panting, I held myself up on the counter, unable to even look at myself in the mirror. I had no idea how to fix this. Aside from masturbating to thoughts of my brother once more -- which my pussy thought was a
really
good idea -- there seemed to be nothing that would cure this sickness. I'd avoided him for almost an entire day, which was no mean feat considering we were sleeping just a wall apart from each other, and yet the feelings that has been ignited in me wouldn't go away.
The bathroom door opened suddenly, and I gasped when I saw Andrew's reflection in the mirror.
