Fostered Care Ch. 01

He remembered the way they used to romp around in the past, as they snuck into each others' bedrooms after bedtime: cuddles masquerading as wrestles, his hands 'accidentally' brushing her breasts or buttocks, her leg 'innocently' rubbing up against his crotch, again and again. He remembered how, once or twice, they would stop, and look into each other's eyes, and share a quick kiss; it would happen without aforethought, without a conscious decision, it was simply an expression of their love, their feelings, their desires... but nothing would come of it, they would merely settle down for a cuddle, or get back into the biff and barney, or perhaps she would rub her leg against his straining hard-on again, or even straddle her crotch hard against his thigh, and he could feel the heat of it, the warmth and wetness of Christine's pussy...

"Oh God," he said – he was coming. "Oh God. Oh God..." He instantly felt awful, like always. He hated himself for thinking of his sister like that; he loved her so much, he wanted to forget what they used to do behind closed doors, he didn't want to have those other feelings, those desires for her. If only they were 'really' brother and sister; if only they didn't know he was adopted, if only mum and dad hadn't told them that he and Christine weren't actual biological siblings. Then maybe he wouldn't think this way about her.

"Mmmmmm..." Erin moaned, as they wound down. "I love how you fuck me," she told him, with a gloriously dirty look in her eye.

Ah, good old Erin, thought Shaun as he smiled: always able to distract me. "I love how I fuck you, too," he replied, with a glint in his eye to match her own.

"We must do it again sometime," she declared, as they parted and started cleaning up.

"Oh Erin: there's just no saying 'no' to you, is there?" he said, with a pretend sigh.

"I was about to say the same about you," she grinned. They shared a few more looks of mutual naughtiness as they dressed, but Shaun couldn't help but dwell again upon the troubling thoughts he was having about Christine; thoughts he had been having for a long time, pretty well since mum and dad had sat them down for 'the talk'. He swore to himself, yet again, that he would never act upon these secret feelings and urges; he would never speak of them either, not to Chris or to anybody. They were wrong, they were disgusting, he hated himself for having them; the only thing that consoled him was his surety, his absolute assuredness, that Christine would never think of him in the same light.

*

At home, Chris was still aroused. Not because of Peter – more because she was nearly naked, the warm afternoon air and the blankets of her bed felt great upon her bare skin, and the rush of heavy petting was still upon her. She had been riled up and she required satisfaction.

There was only one thing to do.

She sprang up, still wearing only her knickers; without pause for thought, she went to Shaun's room. His bed was unmade and there were clothes strewn everywhere – it made her smile. He was such a slob, and she was always so neat and tidy; it was yet another point of difference that reminded her they weren't related by blood, only by spirit.

She went to his bed and lay down. She loved lying in Shaun's bed; it reminded her of the old days, back in simpler times, when they would rarely go to sleep without first sneaking into one or the other's room and snuggling up together, chatting into the early hours, or getting into a bit of innocent horseplay. It didn't happen anymore, not after 'the talk' – dad would kill them if they were caught together, alone, though they wouldn't be doing anything.

There was such a comforting feel about Shaun's bed – it was easy to imagine that he was there with her, snuggled up with her again. She imagined she could smell him; she turned her head on the pillow and breathed deeply, picking up the faintest traces of the styling wax he used in his hair, the deodorant he used, his more basic, natural muskiness.

She realised that her hand was already in her knickers, touching and probing at herself; she paused to pull them down and kick them away, and they fell off the end of his bed into the melee of sheets on the floor. She lay on her back, her feet up on the bed and her knees raised in the air; she revelled in the sensation, lying naked on Shaun's bed, her pussy exposed to the breeze as she touched herself gently, playfully.

It made her so wet. It must have been the naughtiness of it, the 'forbidden' side of it: playing with herself in her brother's room, on her brother's bed. She allowed herself to think on it more, remembering him naked in the bathroom that morning, the way he looked at her in the shower. He had such a great body: broad shoulders, strong legs, and a great bum – she remembered the thrill as she gave it a slap, holding her breath and bracing for possible retaliation, hoping that he would turn and try to grope her, that they might slip or bump into each other, nude on nude, skin on skin... "oh man, that feels good," she whispered as she delved deeper into herself, massaging her rock-hard clitoris and feeling the increasing wetness of her exposed cunt.

She dwelled upon the remembered image of his cock: large, even when flaccid. He was such a big boy, always had been; even as young teens, she remembered how he would grow hard as they wrestled in bed, how she liked to straddle his leg and rub her thigh against his erection to make it grow, how he would move it away half-heartedly and how she would go after it again, without a word of it between them. A low, quivering moan escaped from her lips as she worked harder at herself, thinking of Shaun's cock, picturing how it would look when it was hard, imagining how it would feel... inside her...

She came. Hard. She came, and came, and came some more, her fingers not stopping as her moans grew into cries, into shouts and screams. She came harder and harder, not letting up, pounding at her clit without mercy and slipping two fingers into herself with her other hand, two fingers wide just like Shaun's cock, no, three fingers...

She worked away until her voice grew hoarse, and stopped only so the neighbours wouldn't call the police – which they actually had done once before, the first time Chris had treated herself, home alone, on Shaun's bed. Answering the door that day had proven a touch embarrassing. And now, as she started to slow down and her pleasure ran its course, she didn't feel any guilt or shame like Shaun had only moments before; she had long before come to terms with her feelings for her brother.

She was attracted to him. She knew it, she couldn't deny it, and she didn't always try to hide it. It was only natural, she had decided – he was a good-looking boy, very good-looking, they got on well and they loved each other, so it was only natural that she should have physical desires for him. It was primal, it was basic. There was a chemistry between her and Shaun, pure and simple; it was sometimes so thick in the air between them, she was surprised other people couldn't smell it. She was always sneaking into Shaun's bedroom and making herself come, as hard as possible, whenever she was home alone and the opportunity was there – it was a necessary release, she reasoned. Without letting it go, it would build up inside her, and maybe force her to do something inappropriate.

At the same time, she knew that 'the talk' had been necessary, and that mum and dad were absolutely right. In another time and place, in another life, Christine and Shaun would have been perfect for each other; they had a love and a chemistry that was undeniable, they would have fallen in love and had tonnes of sex and later they would have married and had lots of children and lived together happily ever after, she was sure of it. But with Shaun's parents gone and Shaun left in her parent's care, that life was out the window – now they were brother and sister, they had been raised thusly and they felt thusly, that was how it had always been and that was how it always would be.

Their relationship as brother and sister was what counted. It was too important to risk, and if she was to allow herself to act on her desires, if she tried to – or succeeded in – seducing Shaun, the resulting awkwardness, the guilt and shame would destroy their relationship and tear their family apart. She loved and respected her parents, and she could think of nothing worse than to betray their trust and disappoint them; so she did as they asked, she did what she knew was right, she buried her desires and only let them surface during moments like this, when she was all alone and it was safe to do so. Denying her urges, trying to pretend that she didn't have them wouldn't work, didn't work. She had to recognise her urges, and deal with them as safely and harmlessly and as often as possible.

Was there a future in it, though? She was constantly asking herself that very question. How long could she keep doing this, recognising her physical attraction to Shaun but not acting on it? As long as she had to, she decided; there was sure to be another man out there for her, another man whom she could love, to whom she would be attracted to as much as she was to Shaun. She was pretty sure Brad Pitt was just such a man – pity he's already taken. And she was pretty sure Shaun would find a way to satisfy himself; he was already well-taken-care-of sexually, the little man-hussy, and it was only a matter of time before he found true love with someone else too. So that was all well and good; they were both sure to find someone else and live just as happily in the arms of others. And in the meantime, she would touch herself and think lovingly and lustfully of Shaun, and she saw no harm in it.

Christine got to her feet, and wandered off in the buff to take another shower. There was one thing she had forgotten, though: her underwear, moist at the crotch with her heady juices, hidden dangerously amongst the tangled mass of Shaun's sheets and blankets at the foot of his bed.