Investment

But my eyes gravitated toward the reflection of my chest. While it was clear that there were indeed breasts beneath the red coverings, it was also explicitly clear that the breasts were not very sizeable at all. I sighed sadly, but quickly reminded myself that of all people, the man working in the living room was quite possibly the one person on the planet who could see past my semi-developed chest and recognize me for the woman, for the person, I was inside.

My studies crept back into my thoughts. Since I was finally wearing the bikini, however, I was able to compel myself back to the bed, back to the textbook and the pen and the notebook.

*****

The warm hands upon my back awoke me.

I had fallen asleep upon my own notebook, the pen still in my hand. This was apparently how my big brother had found me.

...as I wore the bikini.

More than a few times, Eric had massaged me, and had even occasionally rubbed lotion into my skin. Yet this time, his touch was definitely different, definitely more meaningful.

I whimpered softly, contentedly, my face buried in my folded arms. I could practically hear him smile as his hands worked their magic upon my upper back, moving slowly downward on either side of my spine. Too much time had passed since he had last massaged me, and I wished that time could come to a standstill so that I could enjoy the massage forever.

...or perhaps, eventually, change roles and massage him, although I truly felt he was far better at massaging.

I do not know how long he massaged me. I only know that I was thankful that I was wearing the bikini, for his hands felt exquisite upon my bare skin.

And, even though he had massaged me in the past, on this particular occasion, I found myself becoming wet. My heartbeat was increasing, and my breathing was changing as well.

I whimpered again, shifting subtly beneath the loving hands. He was arousing me, which in a way seemed so strange and foreign since my body had never reacted like this to his previous massages, and he was only focusing his attention upon my back – he was not touching me in places where a brother should never touch a sister.

His hands stopped moving, then lifted completely from my back. I whimpered again, this time in soft protest at the lack of physical contact. I felt the bed move as my big brother shifted position...

His lips pressed against my spine, directly between my shoulder blades. He was kissing my upper back.

I could have melted into a puddle upon the bed.

It was only a single kiss, then he straightened up again, a few fingertips gently scratching along my spine. I so desperately wanted to reach back and pull at the bow at my mid-back, to invite him to resume the massage, to resume touching me so intimately, to continue to arouse me, but I was afraid...

Already, in roughly twenty-four hours, our relationship had changed. We were no longer just any typical brother and sister who happened to be close. In twenty-four hours, our lives had truly become intertwined, in terms of both signing the apartment lease and showing our deepening affection for each other. In twenty-four hours, our love had progressed, crossing the line from familial love to romantic love.

...and I was scared that, somehow, after this weekend, perhaps even after this moment, our relationship would somehow be cast back into the familial realm. I did not want that.

...then again, my aroused body and mind did not want that, while my logical mind was trying to rationalize what was happening and how it would affect us in the future.

"I'm not sure if I have a little sister anymore," he whispered. It was the first coherent statement either of us had made in some time, and his words almost seemed to profane the growing atmosphere of intimacy.

His words were not lost on me. I wondered if I would still have a big brother once he left the city. During the course of these twenty-four hours, I was seeing him less and less as a big brother and more and more as a man I could love.

"I hope you realize," my big brother whispered, his voice shocking me again, "that we can never be 'just' sister and brother again."

I could only nod, not certain that I truly wanted to speak at that moment. He was no longer massaging me, just touching me, stroking my exposed flesh, caressing me illicitly.

...heightening my arousal and my desire.

"Would you mind turning over?" he requested.

With a smile, I complied, happy to show off the front of my bikini, even though I did not have the breasts to make it a truly jaw-dropping vision for him. Self-consciously, I almost crossed my arms over my chest to hide my small breasts from his view, but I stopped myself, recognizing that he truly cared for me for more than just my body.

"You are definitely beautiful," my big brother affirmed, "and I don't mean just your body."

His eyes displayed the truth: He truly felt I was beautiful.

He caressed my stomach, his hand moving slowly upward to my lower ribs, then even further up my body, pausing directly over my quickening heart. His eyes sought mine, holding me captive for just a moment, even as his hand moved...

He squeezed my left breast, and my eyes fluttered closed as I slowly released the breath I had not been aware I was holding. He fondled my breast with a mixture of awe and experience. I had known about the women he had dated in college, and I knew that he was not a virgin, so I was not surprised by the sense of experience which was transmitted from his hand to my breast. What did surprise me was that I could feel his awe, almost as if he had never touched a breast until that very moment.

Reaching up, I brushed a thumb across his cheek, and he smiled with his lips and with his eyes. Turning his head, he kissed the palm of my hand.

...and then, his stomach rumbled.

We both giggled a bit nervously, although Eric was clearly more embarrassed about it than I was.

He kissed my forehead – which was not unusual, as he had kissed my forehead or my cheeks many times in the past, but this time it carried an additional meaning, an additional sentiment of affection. The kiss also silenced us, and apparently caused his stomach to stop rumbling.

"Since you've brought the bikini," he suggested, "you may as well 'use' it, so why don't you go take a quick swim? When you get back, Room Service should have delivered dinner."

I thought about it for a moment. I didn't swim much – when I went to a beach, I spent the vast majority of my time tanning, or perhaps exploring the area shops and eateries.

Ultimately, I declined. "I'm perfectly content right here with you... and your rumbling stomach."

Right on cue, his stomach made its presence known once again.

We soon made our way into the living room to peruse the Room Service menu together. We made our selections, and Eric called in our orders. Then he informed me that he had just a few more things to finish for work, and then I would have his undivided attention for the rest of the weekend.

While he continued working on his laptop, I returned to the bedroom. I wanted to ensure I would stay awake, so instead of stretching out on the bed again to continue studying, I took my book and pen and notebook to the recliner by the tall window. For some unknown reason, I was compelled to open the curtains, and I stood at the window for a moment – a young woman wearing a bikini, a sight certain to entice more than a few eyes if anyone in the office tower across the street happened to be looking in my direction – before finally settling into the recliner to resume studying.

This time, the studying seemed to go rather quickly, for soon I could faintly hear someone knocking at the door to the suite. We had a comfortable brother-sister banter over dinner, and as we ate, I felt rather pleased that Eric's eyes kept roaming over me, including my too-small breasts. It made me feel even more appreciated, even more loved, and underneath the table, I slid my ankles against his, subtly flirting with my eyes.

After dinner, we decided to watch a film. The hotel had all the major cable channels, plus five channels of revolving films, so we had quite a selection available to us, yet none of the offering appealed to us, so instead, we ended up cuddling on the sofa as the daylight faded and the living room slowly darkened.

In a way, it reminded me of a camping trip we had taken shortly after I had finished eleventh grade. Eric had just graduated from college and was home for three weeks before starting his job, and he and I spent four days camping at our favorite spot in the nearby forest. We had just taken a quick sunset swim in the river by our campsite when a sudden rainstorm befell us, and as we were already wet, there was no point in diving into the tent, so we huddled close as we sat at the base of a tree. Cuddling on the sofa reminded me of that rainstorm a few years earlier, except that in this case, my brother was wearing normal clothes, not swim trunks.

Nothing was said for a long, long time. We simply held each other close, and it almost felt as if we were each waiting for the other to take the initiative to move this relationship forward, as if each of us was afraid to make the first move.

At last, after the sun had truly set and the living room had reached its maximum darkness, I lifted my head from my big brother's shoulder and placed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck.

"Erica..." he breathed, so softly I was not entirely sure that I had truly heard him with my ears.

He began to touch me in an unbrotherly manner, and my body eagerly responded. I touched him illicitly as well, continuing to kiss his neck and moving up to his cheek and over to his ear, suckling the lobe gently which caused him to writhe in my arms.

Then his cell phone rang: the opening segment from "Rhythm Is Gonna Get You," our mother's favorite song from Gloria Estefan.

The moment was lost. If it had been anyone else, even if it had been the Pope, we could have ignored the cell phone, but being our mother, we both knew that we were obligated to answer the call and tell her all about the new apartment.

*****

After the phone call had ended, Eric and I were still in the darkness of the living room. He set the cell phone on the table next to his laptop, then turned to me, a pensive expression upon his face. I was about to ask him what he was thinking when he began to unbutton his shirt.

I seemed to happen in slow motion. Each button was released with care, with precision, with practiced ease. Slowly, the black garment opened from the neck downward, revealing more and more of his flesh to my appreciative eyes. And soon, I was moving toward him, and almost before I realized it, I stood before him, looking up into my big brother's eyes, the dimness highlighting the flame of love burning within him.

My hands found their way to his chest. He was certainly not cover model material, but he was incredibly sexy to me, his hairless chest expanding and contracting subtly as his breathed. His hands rose to gently cradle my head and tilt my face upward again, our eyes joining and fusing intimately.

Our eyes separated long enough for us both to watch as I pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He released my head and lowered his arms, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor behind him. He was topless, and I was about as close to naked as a woman can be without showing too much skin, so when I pressed myself against him, my spirit soared, and when he closed his arms around me, I felt as if I would melt.

I felt it: a stirring against me, a lengthening, a stiffening. My hands slowly slithered down his bare back to his jeans, cupping his lower cheeks, pulling his growing erection more firmly against me.

That had an effect upon me as well. Given that the cups of the bikini bra were rather thin, I was certain that my big brother could feel the hardening of my nipples against him. I wondered if he could feel the quickening pace of my heartbeat, or sense the wetness beginning to seep from my body. He definitely must have been aware of how I moved subtly against him, pressing gently against the bulge in his jeans.

I suddenly had a vision: laying on my back in the grass, moonlight gracing us as my big brother pressed into my body, his hands gripping and tugging at my hair as he burrowed further into me, his eyes nearly overflowing with love, his face contorting from the pleasure I was granting him...

The kiss to my forehead helped me to focus on the present. In the darkness, his eyes ravished me.

"I want you," my big brother whispered.

We were quickly approaching the point of no return. For a moment, I could not breathe, my heart seeming to stop and await my decision. Already, out relationship had transformed into something no sister and brother should ever know, and after some thirty hours together, we were on the verge of crossing the ultimate line.

The bulge in his jeans seemed like it was five inches thick and four feet tall. His hands seemed almost possessive as they roamed my back and sides.

Deep in my mind, the final whisper of society's collective voice was drowned out at last by the desire and the passion which had been percolating since Friday afternoon. "Please be gentle with me," I pleaded, knowing that of all people, he would definitely understand, for he knew that he would not be the first person inside me – that had happened during my first month at the university – but he could be the first to give me a sexual experience I would truly enjoy. Deep in my heart, I knew he would.

Deep in my heart...

I held him tightly, my ear filled with his heartbeat. I was a little nervous, yet with him, I knew I was safe, that he would be gentle, that he would take good care of me in this and in all matters, and that allowed me to truly relax and enjoy the intimacy, even though no one outside the protection of our suite would ever understand.

The strings at my mid-back were slowly pulled. Again, time seemed to pass in slow-motion. Even though this was the first time anyone but me had removed my bikini, it felt like a replay, such was the deceleration of time in this integral moment.

This is it, I thought. There's no turning back now. Your big brother is truly now your boyfriend, and perhaps even more…

The bikini bra loosened – it felt strange since, for the first time since I was a very little girl, when I was definitely much too young to wear a bra, it was someone else undressing me, yet it felt absolutely right, as if this was fate finally manifesting itself. We shared a gaze which spoke volumes of our long relationship as siblings and the beginning of our relationship as lovers.

My big brother brought his hands up my exposed back, further tantalizing me in ways I had never expected. A small shiver flashed the length of my spine, and that was when I knew that this was meant to happen, that my big brother was supposed to me more than just a brother to me, that our being related by blood was simply the universe's way of causing us to better appreciate this expanding relationship.

The knot at the back of my neck was pulled free. Only the fact that my chest was pressed against my new and my first true lover kept the bikini bra from making a trek to the floor.

With my eyes closed, I lifted my face...

We kissed, a formal acknowledgement of our illicit love.

It was tentative at first, but the initial brief press of lips was enough to break the dam. The kiss renewed, lengthened, strengthened, and if he had not been holding me so firmly in his arms, I almost certainly would have collapsed to the floor.

When he at last lifted his lips away, I actually made a small sound of protest, surprising myself. He smiled, his eyes sparkling, and he hugged me tightly, practically giving me a bear hug, his arousal still very prominent against me.

After a few heartbeats, I stepped back from my new lover's embrace, an act which caused my bikini bra to glide to the floor and rest at our feet. For the first time, my big brother could see my bare breasts, my small swells with the hardened nipples beckoning to him, and for a moment, for just a moment, I was again embarrassed by the size of my breasts, and I actually covered them with my arms, looking away from him and blushing despite myself, despite the love which bonded us even more than blood.

Gently, he turned my face toward him again and nudged my arms away from my chest. "I don't care about what is here" (he gently tapped a breast) "or here" (he tapped my other breast). "I care much more about what is here" (he tapped my forehead) "and here" (he tapped my heart).

My eyes filled with tears, for his words had touched me in a way which his hands perhaps never could. As I glanced downward to hopefully hide my tears, I could faintly see the bulge in his jeans, and realized that his words were definitely true, that he desired me with his mind and with his body, despite the fact that my body was imperfect by societal standards.

Reaching for my hand, my big brother led me to the sofa. He sat and patted his thigh as he looked at me with a deepening fondness. Still, I hesitated, but then, with the tears still falling down my cheeks, I straddled his thighs, my chest level with his face.

He kissed me directly over my heart, between my small swells, his hands at my back and holding me in position so that he could repeatedly kiss and lick me in such a significant place. I ran my fingers through his hair, the tears flowing faster as the tenderness and the respect he was showing me truly overwhelmed me. Of all the people on the planet, the last person I would have expected to make me feel so much like a woman, so much like a truly cherished person, was my big brother. I never would have thought that he would be the one to break through the insecurities I had with my body, specifically with my chest, and make me feel truly feminine.

His lips sought a nipple, and it hardened even further as he suckled gently. He was clearly not a baby, given that he was actually six years my elder, but the symbolism was not lost to me, and as my nipple rejoiced between his lips and under his graceful tongue, I lost myself in the pleasure he was bestowing upon me, a pleasure which escalated as he slipped a hand between my thighs for the first time and cupped my weeping womanhood through the thin bikini bottom. I cried with happiness and cried out with love as his hand busied itself, stroking me, learning me, his other hand upon my back helping to hold me in place for his lips as they moved from nipple to nipple even as I rocked back and forth in response to the pleasure radiating from my sex...

He bit a nipple – not hard, but definitely enough to hurt just a little. I finally understood the meaning of the phrase "erotic pain." "Again!" I pleased, and my big brother complied, hurting me as he pleasured me, alternative from nipple to nipple as the hand between my thighs nudged aside the crotch of my bikini bottom and a pair of fingers squirmed inside me.

For the first time in my life, someone other than myself brought me to climax. It was a release which I could feel in my curled toes and in each strand of my hair. It was a pleasure which caused every cell of my being to cry out with love.

It was an enthrallment which left me sated, shuddering as I leaned heavily against him, vulnerable in his protective arms, moaning as the afterglow slowly faded along with the joyful tears which he kissed from my cheek.

Yet it was only the beginning, for we had yet to consummate our transforming relationship, and I had no doubt that it would happen before either of us finally fell asleep.