Caught in the Bathroom: Shocking Desire Between Siblings (Incest)

Chapter 16

My body felt so relaxed, like all my muscles had slowly melted away after a long tension I didn't even know I was carrying. My shoulders dropped heavy, but in a good way, warm, like someone had draped a heated blanket over me. My skin still tingled in random spots — on my neck where his fingers had gripped, on my inner thighs where the semen was drying in thin, sticky crusts, in my throat that burned a little every time I swallowed. I opened the closet door again, the low creak of the wood echoing in the quiet room, and turned slowly, wanting to see what he saw. I arched my back to the mirror, looking over my shoulder. My small ass, perky, round, firm enough not to jiggle, but soft enough to give if someone squeezed. Pale skin, smooth, no marks, no stretch lines, glistening faintly with the sweat that hadn't fully dried. I felt the cool room air brushing right against my bare thighs, my exposed ass, raising goosebumps lightly and sending a quiet tingle straight to my belly.

I wanted him to see me. I wanted to feel those heavy eyes glued to me, like his gaze could make me more real, more present.

"Jonathan, do you think my ass is scrawny?"

My voice came out low, husky, almost teasing. He shook his head quick, like he was trying to snap out of a trance, blinking hard. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling visibly, and answered trying to sound casual, but his voice came out thick, gravelly.

"I think it's pretty. I mean… it's small, but it's not like flat as if you didn't have an ass. It's a little ass."

Hearing that sent a warm wave slowly rising through my chest. It was true. Small, but with shape. Perky enough to show when I sat sideways, round enough to fill a hand if someone wanted to grab it. Smooth, pale, no stretch marks, no cellulite. Perfect to be overlooked… or devoured by anyone who really wanted to look.

Feeling the weight of his gaze on my back — hot, fixed, almost tangible —, I grabbed my stuff again: the clean folded panties, the oversized sleep shirt, the pad. I walked to the bathroom inside the room, door open, cold tile under my bare feet.

"Come here. Can't be yelling, Dad'll hear us."

I went in, hung the fluffy towel on the shower hook for easy reach later, set the clothes on the cold porcelain sink. I turned on the shower: the sound of water hitting the floor echoed loud in the small space, steam starting to rise slow, hot and humid. While waiting for it to warm up, I did what I always do when I'm alone: lifted the toilet lid with a sharp click, and sat. My thighs parted a bit, the dark bush of hair spreading against the cold edge of the seat, my whole body naked from the waist down. I felt the semen still leaking out slow, thick and warm, trickling inside me with a weird, hot tickle, like my body was emptying bit by bit. Cum from two guys. It dripped into the bowl with a light, rhythmic sound, almost intimate. The smell rose slow — salty, raw, mixed with my own wet scent.

He came in right then. Stopped at the door, eyes wide, face flushing hard. He saw me sitting there, legs slightly spread with the bush exposed, the liquid sound in a stronger stream.

"Relax, it's just pee," I said calmly.

"You're gross, girl."

But he didn't leave. He stayed there, looking at the floor first, then at me, then back to the floor. Hands fidgety at his sides, breathing heavy.

"It's pee. Stop… quit being a jerk."

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to me — to my thighs, to the dark mound between them, to my face.

"If I peed in front of you, you wouldn't like it."

I ignored his jab. Just stepped into the shower, left the door cracked, and let the hot water hit my skin straight on. The spray came strong at first, pounding my shoulders, running down my back. I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the heat spread, my muscles relaxing even more, like the water was melting away what was left of the day.

My brother closed the toilet lid and sat there, trying to act natural. He started talking about school stuff — a friend who got suspended for smoking in the bathroom, a girl who texted him on his phone, the gym teacher who almost fell off the bleachers during warm-ups. Chattering too much, like he wanted to fill the silence from my end of the conversation. But I heard the subtle shake, the way the words stumbled now and then.

I grabbed the body wash and squeezed some into my palm. Spread it slow on my arms first, making white foam slide over my pale skin, over the fine hairs I never shaved. Then up to my shoulders, my neck, feeling my fingers brush the faint marks Gustavo's grip had left. Down to my small tits, squeezing lightly over the soap, feeling my nipples harden under the slippery palm. I ran the soap in slow circles, feeling the nice friction, the water's heat mixed with the touch. It wasn't just cleaning. It was sensation. I knew he was watching. I left the crack open on purpose, enough for him to see my body, the movements.

I turned my back to him, arching my ass a little while soaping my back, my small cheeks, down to my thighs. The foam ran slow over the curves, dripping to the shower floor. Then I turned front again, slow, no rush. I spread my legs wider, propped one foot on the low shower edge for balance, and let my hand slide between my thighs. I soaped there carefully, fingers parting the outer lips slow, rubbing the swollen clit that still throbbed from earlier. The foam mixed with the hair, running white and thick down my inner thighs. I didn't look at him directly. Just felt his heavy gaze stuck on me — hot, fixed, unblinking. I heard his breathing change, get shorter, deeper.

I let him see everything. The dark hair matted now full of foam, the pink lips swollen opening under my fingers, the clit peeking from its hood as I circled slow. It wasn't to tease on purpose. It was to feel. Feel like I was seen, desired, even being ordinary, even being the quiet sister no one notices. The hot water hit my back, running over my ass, my thighs, washing the foam away slow. I rubbed deeper, two fingers slipping in a bit, cleaning inside, feeling the nice stretch, the inner heat mixed with the water. A low sigh escaped my mouth, husky, almost inaudible under the shower noise.

That's when I noticed: he wasn't talking anymore. The silence dropped heavy in the bathroom, just the sound of the water, my breathing, his. I glanced sideways and he was leaning forward, dark eyes locked on me, mouth parted, face red, hands gripping his bulge. No more pretending.

And I didn't stop.

I kept my hand between my legs, fingers sliding slow in the foam, circling the clit that throbbed hard now, swollen and hot under the water. The steam filled the whole bathroom, fogging the mirror, clinging to the air like a thick mist that made everything slower, heavier. I felt his gaze burning into my back, and it just made the arousal build more, a warm wave starting in my belly and spreading to my tits.

He was quiet now, sitting on the closed toilet lid, legs spread, hands squeezing his bulge. I saw from the corner of my eye: his shorts tenting a bulge that didn't hide anymore, face red, breathing short like it hurt.

"You squeezing yourself there, boy? Got a hard-on for your sister, you perv?"

I said it slyly, voice low and teasing, almost laughing inside, but with a husky tone that gave away how much it turned me on. I figured he'd blush more, crack a joke, look away, something normal for a brother. But no. He stayed calm, like it was the most natural thing. Just took a deep breath, heavy eyes on mine through the crack, and tugged the waistband of his shorts down slow.

He pulled out his cock.

I was the one surprised.

It was average, nice, straight, head smooth, not a hair on it — Mom must not check on that with him, apparently. Thin veins pulsing lightly on the pale skin, rock hard, pointing up like it ached from the stiffness. He gripped the base, stretching it, pulling down like he wanted to show me the full length, the thickness, everything.

"You got me hard, look."