The Forbidden Touch of the Brother

Chapter 11

I didn't say a word. I said goodbye to Fabiano with a quick kiss on the lips — dry lips now, no desire left — and followed Jonathan into the elevator. It was empty, dim light, the mirror reflecting the two of us: me with my loose shorts clinging to my warm thighs, messy ponytail falling apart, face blank; him with tense shoulders, staring at the panel like the button for our floor was the most important thing in the world.

We rode up in silence. I could still feel the heat from what had happened back there, the cool wetness between my legs, the salty taste lingering in my mouth, that warm peace that had come and gone too fast, now turning into trapped euphoria. My brother was acting weird, face all shut down, like he wanted to say something, and I didn't quite get what had happened to make him talk to Fabiano like that. He didn't look me in the eyes once. He was pissed, and only when the doors opened on our floor did he mutter under his breath, almost to himself:

"You know what they were saying about you?"

He asked it like he was challenging me.

He was so mad, and that's why I didn't answer. I followed him into the house, feeling the emptiness creep back slowly, like it always did afterward. Dad was in the living room, watching TV without really paying attention, and didn't even ask where we'd been. I went straight to my room and flopped onto the bed, dying to peel off those soaked panties and touch myself again, cum one more time, but he came in behind me, shutting the door and unloading.

"Everyone there knows he fucked you, Nicole."

That was something I should care about, I knew it, but the apathy wouldn't let me. I knew it could happen, every woman knows, guys are assholes. But I had to say something to calm my brother down, or he might blow it up. I didn't even want to think about him acting his age and spilling it to Dad in the living room, and if Dad told Mom, it'd be chastity belt and nunnery all at once.

"I figured that might happen, guys are such jerks, but no one's gonna believe him, relax, okay?"

I tried to sound calm. But he felt insulted for me.

He launched into a rant, telling me how when the other girl talked about Fabiano fucking me and how the chick hanging off him called me a slut. He made all these angry faces and gestures, and I just sat there watching him vent his rage. I admired him, he was growing up and turning into a handsome guy, always more vain than me, hair always trimmed, smelling good, going out without cologne was like going out naked to him. And his body was maturing, getting more squared off with muscles.

"You know what I'm thinking here?"

I said, cutting off his tirade.

"What?"

"That you're jealous of me 'cause I'm hooking up with another guy!"

I laughed.

"Our relationship is open, remember?"

His anger vanished right then, his pissed-off look turning into a quick smile, and he shook his head like he couldn't believe me, maybe that I wasn't making a big deal out of it.

"Now that you helped me out, I'm gonna help you with that girl, okay? Why don't you call her and ask her to come over and play video games?"

I got closer to him, threw my arm over his shoulder, and felt him nestle in, pressing against me.

"Her mom won't let her."

He said it all defeated, like the idea was doomed.

"I can ask Mom to call. I'll say you want to convert her."

I laughed, but that would be a reason for my mom to grab the phone and dial right away. Here's the deal: they're in the same school group since they were kids, and this girl probably isn't in his group, or he wouldn't need to ask. Her mom probably keeps a tighter leash 'cause she's autistic, or so they say, 'cause they call themselves that, autistic ADHD, but no real diagnosis. And if an adult called, they'd have to commit to picking her up and dropping her off, and we didn't want that messing up their hookup.

"No way out, I'm gonna die a virgin, man!"

He said it laughing, but there was a hint of real fear in his voice.

"I just want a feel of some tits, sis, just to know what it's like, you know?"

Me, no good at boundaries, I grabbed one of my breasts over my shirt and pointed, squeezing it lightly toward him.

"Go ahead, squeeze, but only three seconds 'cause you're my brother!"

I was laughing so hard I could barely finish the sentence, my voice breaking up.

His eyes went wide, pretending to be horrified.

"You crazy? And who says I even want to squeeze those saggy tits?"

I pulled away from him fast, smacked his arm hard, laughing even more.

"Saggy where? Where's my tit saggy, kid?"

I pushed them together, arching my back straight, holding them with my hands, making an effort to create some cleavage and keeping the side profile for him to see.

"Look, they're firm, okay? My tits are gorgeous."

"I've seen your tits, Nicole!"

"Seen where? At most you saw when I was a kid and you were little. I don't go braless in front of you."

He burst out laughing, shaking his head.

"Braless, huh? You'd need one made of adamantium to keep 'em up there."

"My tits don't even sag 'cause they're small, you idiot."

I shot back, still laughing, giving him another smack.

"These stay put on their own."

We laughed some more, him dodging my fake swats, me pretending to be mad. It was silly, childish, but for the first time in forever, we were laughing together without forcing it, like the divorce and the quiet house had taken a break. I felt light, almost normal, even with the desire simmering low in my belly, waiting for the next time.

But then came the awkward silence I wasn't expecting.

"Can I really? You mean it?"

I went quiet. I hadn't even considered letting him actually do it. But with him, I felt such comfort, and right then it hit me, something wrong, a rush like robbing a bank and skydiving at the same time.

"What? Squeeze my tit?"

I asked, disbelieving, to make sure he wasn't joking.

"You really want to?"

He nodded seriously, a silent motion, eyes locked on mine. The air in the room got heavy, a tense vibe, something super wrong, like the whole world had stopped to watch.

I stood up slowly, went to the door to lock it, and on the way, I slipped off my bra under my shirt, the fabric sliding down my back, my nipples already hard, brushing the thin t-shirt. My heart pounded in my chest, a nervous throb climbing up my belly and settling between my legs, making me tremble.

"Look, it's quick, and no weird shit, alright?"

I hurried back to him, glancing around like I was being watched, my whole body pulsing with nerves and heat. I stopped in front of him, sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, breathing deep.

"Ready?"

I lifted my shirt slowly, letting the cool room air hit my pale skin. My small tits came into view, firm, pink nipples hardened by the chill and the excitement. I saw his face change completely — eyes darkening, mouth parting, like he was seeing the most beautiful thing on earth. He swallowed hard, hands shaking a bit in his lap.

I bit my lower lip to keep the heat from showing on my face, but my body gave it away: breathing fast, belly rising and falling quick, the warmth between my legs throbbing hard. He reached out slow, like he was afraid to break something, and touched. First just his open palm, covering one whole tit, his warm skin against mine. Then he squeezed lightly, thumb brushing the nipple, sending a shiver straight to my core.

It was experimental, first time, but his touch was too careful, almost worshipful. He squeezed again, firmer, feeling the firmness, the slight weight, and let out a low, rough sigh. I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the pleasure rise quiet, skin prickling all over, my whole body responding to his gaze, his hand, that wrong and perfect moment. The heat was so intense I was clenching my thighs without meaning to, already wet, heart racing.

"That's good... three seconds."

I murmured, voice low and husky, but I didn't pull away.

He didn't count. He just kept going, slow, like time had stopped.

And I let him.