Chapter 12
Everyone in my family had some pretty unresolved issues. My brother and I were hurting from what went down at home, but his pain was less obvious, more hidden behind that easy smile and his jokes. He wasn't right in the head, and neither was I. What kept us both from falling apart was the bond that grew between us during that time. I don't think what we did was pretty, but the love I feel for him, no one can ever question that.
There in the bedroom, he touched me slowly, his open palm covering one breast first, then both, fingers closing gently, squeezing just a bit to feel the weight and the fullness. My breasts are small, but I'm not flat as a board—I’ve got some curve, a nice shape, perky little handfuls that fit perfectly in his hand, firm yet soft at the same time. I always thought they were pretty in a normal way, without any vanity, just knowing they were mine and that they responded to touch.
I watched every move he made closely, my eyes locked on his hand as it rose and fell slowly, his thumb brushing the nipple by accident, sending shivers that raced from the back of my neck down to the soles of my feet. It was weird how my body reacted: skin all goosebumped, like you could grate a coconut on it right then, heart pounding hard in my chest, clit swelling slowly, getting hot, throbbing between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together tight, and strangely, I craved his mouth there, hot and wet, sucking slow like it was the only way to ease the ache.
"Like it? That's enough now!" The words slipped out of my mouth against my will, voice low and husky, trembling a little.
"It's really firm, and pretty."
He hadn't taken his hand away yet. His fingers stayed there, squeezing lightly, like he didn't want to let go, like the moment was too fragile to end. I bit my lower lip, feeling the heat build stronger between my legs, my whole body throbbing, hoping he wouldn't stop. But I didn't say anything. I just stayed there, breathing deep, letting his hand linger another second, then another, while the arousal grew quiet and uncontrollable, leaving me wet under my panties, wishing he'd do more, even though I knew I shouldn't.
He pulled his hands away awkwardly, with a fake laugh that didn't reach his eyes, and asked:
"And does it feel good when you touch them?"
All I could think was "Oh God, what am I gonna tell my brother? Admit that his touch turned me on?" And for some reason, I remembered I'd have to confess this to the priest on Sunday. The guilt hit fast, but my body was still hot, nipples hard against the thin t-shirt, clit pulsing low between my legs.
"Yeah, it's relaxing... when you touch them real gentle like that, it even makes me sleepy..." I lied with a shameless laugh, voice coming out low, trembling at the end.
My shirt was still pulled up, breasts exposed to the cool air of the room, and his eyes still fixed there, neither of us realizing we should stop. I felt his gaze like a touch, heavy and hot, making my skin prickle more, my belly clench on its own.
"And what shouldn't I do?"
"Squeezing hard hurts, hitting, twisting, stuff like that... They're real delicate and sensitive."
The shirt felt the pull of gravity and started to fall slowly, pathetically, until I snapped out of it and tugged the fabric down, hiding my breasts, straightening the t-shirt with shaky hands. My brother went quiet, staring at the floor, like he was mustering courage for another question.
"Nicole..."
"Yeah?" I replied, dreading the question, scanning the room for something out of place to buy time, to get a grip, to breathe.
"Did you get turned on when I touched them?"
The silence hit heavy. My heart raced, the heat between my legs pulsed hard, my pussy ached, and I felt my whole face burn. I didn't want to lie again, but I couldn't tell the truth either. I just stared at him, eyes heavy, mouth dry.
"Yeah... a little," I murmured, voice barely there, admitting it without meaning to. "It's normal for the body to react on its own."
He didn't laugh, didn't say a word. He just looked at me, breathing slow, like the air had gotten thicker. I squeezed my thighs, feeling the arousal build quiet and uncontrollable, clit pulsing low, burning under my panties. I thought maybe we'd gone too far. But I had zero desire to stop, even knowing he was my brother... So I decided to play it off as a joke, break the ice, get back to that safe place where we always hid.
"So, you gonna tell your friends at school you groped some nice tits?"
He laughed awkwardly, snapping back to normal, but I noticed him adjusting his shirt at the waist, hiding something. I knew it: he had a hard-on. I'd seen him hide that bulge plenty of times in the mornings when he woke up to hit the bathroom, or when I'd walk by in short shorts in the hallway.
"Oh sure, they'll ask: whose? What am I supposed to say? My sister's?"
"For God's sake, Jonathan, don't even think about telling anyone."
"Of course not!" He got serious again, staring at the floor. "Did I do it right?"
Poor guy, he was showing that boyish insecurity. I couldn't tell him it was amazing—there was too much holding it back from being truly good, the guilt, the fear, the taboo—but it had felt nice. Breasts are sensitive, and his touch, careful and slow, had made my body respond in a way I didn't expect.
"Of course you did, dummy. If you do that to a girl, just like that, she'll love it, I bet."
My brother looked at me, like he was about to say something really important. I could see the hurt on his face, he wanted to ask for something, I knew what because I wanted it too—more touch, closer, more of everything. But he chose silence instead. He walked to the door, unlocked it slowly, and left with a "good night" hanging in the air, voice low, almost fading into the hallway.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, some demon seemed to take hold of me. First I thought of Fabiano, if he was maybe still downstairs, waiting, wanting to fuck me again. But no way, not after what happened earlier. I ran to the door, locked it hard, like I could lock away the arousal I felt. I stripped off my clothes like they were on fire, t-shirt flying, shorts and panties hitting the floor, naked body trembling in the cool room air.
I rushed to the drawer, grabbed the old perfume bottle, that cold cylinder with those textured pyramids I knew by heart. I threw myself onto my knees on the bed, ass up, knees spread, one hand braced on the mattress, the other gripping the bottle. My whole body throbbed, hot and urgent, like my brother's touch was still on my skin, burning my small breasts, nipples too sensitive and hard.
I closed my eyes and pictured him there again. His hand squeezing slow, thumb brushing the nipple, then his mouth—hot, wet, sucking a whole breast, tongue circling the nipple, sucking slow, then harder. The thought made my belly clench, clit pulse strong. I pressed the bottle's tip to my entrance, already wet and slick, and slid it in slow, feeling the stretch, the pyramids rubbing the inner walls. It hurt a little, but it was good, it was him I wanted to imagine inside me, filling me while he sucked my tits.
I pushed it deeper, inch by inch, the bottle filling everything, heavy and cold at first, but warming quick with my body's heat. I started moving it slow, in and out, imagining his mouth on my breasts—sucking one, then the other, teeth grazing lightly, tongue licking the hardened nipple, sucking like he wanted to draw out milk that wasn't there. Each thrust of the bottle sent waves of pleasure straight to my breasts, making them tingle, nipples throb like they were being touched for real. I squeezed one breast with my free hand, hard, imagining his mouth, his teeth, the suction, the heat.
The pace picked up without me noticing. I shoved the bottle deeper, faster, feeling it hit bottom, the pyramids scratching lightly at the walls, lighting everything up. My breasts bounced with the motion, sensitive, aching with lust, nipples hard against the air. I moaned low and husky, picturing him sucking hard, drawing it in, nipping lightly, while I fucked myself with the bottle, body shaking all over, belly tightening, swollen clit throbbing untouched.
It came fast and intense. My body locked up, then exploded in strong waves, pulsing around the bottle, belly clenching, thighs quivering, a loud moan escaping before I could hold it back. I came imagining his mouth on my tits, sucking, licking, while the bottle filled me deep. I stayed there on my knees, ass up, bottle still inside, body limp and panting, breasts tingling, pleasure echoing slow.
I pulled the bottle out slow, feeling the emptiness after, but satisfied. I lay on my side, hugging the pillow, body still warm, sensitive breasts brushing the fabric. The thoughts of my brother wouldn't fade.
It was late, and it was better to sleep before I went knocking on the room next door.