“Sammy is that really what you think happened there?” I asked. He looked over at me. His lips were tight and he shrugged.
“Yes,” he said in a terribly soft voice.
“No Sammy, it wasn’t like that at all. You never took advantage of me. Hell I practically threw myself at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. I am the one who messed things up,” I said.
“That can’t be true,” he said, moving his hand out from under mine.
“Why not?”
“Because you are beautiful girl! Guys would take years off of their lives to do with you… what I did. I am a little troll and you only did that with me because I am your little brother and I made you feel guilty about what a loser I am. Now you are going to fall on your sword again to make me feel better. I don’t want that,” he said. I felt so flattered. I thought some about that night, the way my brother’s eyes had moved over me with desire. I knew he thought I was sexy, and it made me feel sexy. But I shook my head. I gathered my thoughts every carefully, I wanted to say this right. I wanted to tell the truth, even if I’d been denying the truth to myself since it happened.
“Sammy,” I said, “Listen. I know that I said I regretted what happened, but I want to explain to you why I regret what happened. I am sorry that we… had sex because I am afraid of losing you as my brother and my friend. I regret it because I think we’ve forced ourselves farther apart by acting the way we did. If I could be 100% sure that nothing between us had changed that night, I wouldn’t have a regret in the world. I don’t regret showing you how much I love you, I don’t regret that you saw my body or that I saw yours, and I don’t regret the pleasure that I felt that night. And I did, I loved the way you made me feel. That was the best sex I’d ever had. But mind-blowing sex isn’t worth losing my baby brother.”
“Mind-blowing?” he said, sounding half like he was impressed with himself and half like I was putting him on. But I wasn’t ready to stop talking yet.
“And don’t even give me that bullshit about the fact that I am beautiful and you aren’t. You are not a big meatheaded jock and you aren’t a pretty boy or anything, but you are attractive. You are a handsome kid and the reason you don’t get laid isn’t because of your looks, it’s because of your attitude. Most girls want a guy who knows what he wants and has confidence in himself. I like the nerdy, quiet you. But it wouldn’t hurt to be a little assertive,” I said and I was sort of amazed by my little speech. I said exactly what I wanted to say. Sammy was looking at me with a sort of confused, half-smile on his face. I was also feeling a bit hot, talking about the sex, thinking about it. It was making me horny! I was a complete basket case. But in my mind’s eye I kept playing that night in my mind, over and over again. I felt like I must be sweating. My pussy felt damp in my panties. This was strange.
“What are you afraid of changing?” he asked.
“That things will be like the way they’ve been for the last few weeks. That we won’t talk, that we will always be awkward around one another,” I said.
“I don’t want that either,” he said, “I understand what you are saying Lynn. And I think you are right. It doesn’t do us any good to feel guilty about this. Let’s just put it behind us and forget it happened. Let’s just stop.” He said. And I was glad I’d put his mind at ease, but I wasn’t so certain anymore.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if we can…” I was thinking about how awkward it had been when I’d first walked into my brother’s room. I was thinking about how much tension we’d felt, trying not to talk about sex. And then, when we just talked about it, it was better. And my brother thought I was beautiful and that wasn’t going to change. And I was going to think about his big, hard cock in my ass and that wasn’t going to change. If we just ignored it and pretended like it didn’t happen, we’d both know that it did. The memory would be this big thing sitting in the middle of the room. It would drive us farther apart. I knew that maybe there was a way to make us even closer. And I have to admit I was feeling incredibly horny at that point, thinking about sex, so maybe it clouded my judgment.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He looked concerned now.
“I think I have been going about this all the wrong way,” I said. I stood up quickly in front of my brother. I was wearing a thick red sweater and a pair of jeans. I quickly reached down and pulled my sweater over my head and threw it on the floor. Then I started to unbutton my jeans. The solution was so obvious, if a little scary; I couldn’t believe I had to wait until I was horny to realize it. Something had changed between my brother and me. I couldn’t be in the same room with him without wanting to fuck him.
“What are you doing?!” my brother asked, clearly he hadn’t come to a realization yet.
“Little brother,” I said condescendingly, “If we let this grow into something huge it will tear us apart. But, what if it is just something we do every once in a while? What if sex is just a part of our relationship? Then it wouldn’t be weird or anything.” While I was saying this, I started to realize why I’d felt guilty before. I mean, I was afraid I’d hurt my brother and afraid I’d screw things up, but most I was guilty because I liked it. But he liked it too. Who were we hurting if it was just the two of us?
“Lynn, I don’t know…” he started. He was just nervous; I could see in his eyes (and stiffening between his legs) that he liked the idea.
“Unless you didn’t have fun playing with me,” I said, pouting, “I liked playing with you.” I felt that same heady rush I’d felt that night, back in my room.
“I loved it,” he said.
“Then stay sitting and let me take the lead here,” I said. He nodded and didn’t move. I finished unbuttoning my jeans and slinked them off my body. I walked over to my brother’s door and made sure it was locked. Then I walked over to my brother’s bed and shoved a bunch of his junk off of it, leaving a nice open area on the bed. I flopped down on it. My brother started to get up, “stay where you are.” I said and he followed directions nicely.
I was lying with my head on the pillow and my brother was in his chair, near my feet to my right, looking at me. I smiled at him. It felt good, I felt kind of like we got to get back to that point where my roommate had interrupted us, like we were getting a chance to finish something.
“Tell me little brother,” I said, enjoying being lusted after, “how many times have you imagined me in this bed like this?” He squirmed a little. But I just kept looking at him.