Annie's Awakening

Mum came downstairs shortly afterwards looking stunning in her own very short dress - inevitably red. Not surprisingly, all male attention turned immediately to her, but I still felt good. The moment in the limelight I had enjoyed had been genuine.

The party went well and ran on late. I danced and danced with all my friends, male and female, and still felt good despite being outclassed by one or two who had really gone to town.

To my surprise, I found myself getting a lot more male attention than I was used to. Several boys held me quite close as we danced, including my brother Mark who insisted on being my partner for all the slow dances 'to protect my little sister from groping hands' as he jokingly put it.

Although I was pleased to have his attention, as I watched the other girls being fondled and kissed in the low light, I was tipsy enough to wonder what it would be like if a boy's hands were giving my bottom the same treatment.

Though tipsy himself, Mark's own hands remained proprietorially on my waist and hips throughout.

By the time midnight came, Mum was really rather drunk and to my horror, she and Dad were practically undressing each other on the dancefloor. The embarrassment was almost unbearable. All of my friends could see them doing it; I would be teased mercilessly over the coming days or weeks.

When we got home, Mark and I went up to our separate rooms while Mum and Dad went up to theirs. Still pleased with the way I had looked, I undressed, pulled on my short cotton night gown, sat at my dresser, took off my make-up and brushed my hair before slipping into bed.

The room wasn't exactly spinning as I lay there in the darkness, but I could tell I had enjoyed more champagne than usual.

Five minutes later it started.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

I looked at the clock on my bedside table; two-thirty in the morning.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

Mum and Dad were at it again. From their behaviour on the dancefloor, I should have known this was going to happen, but had been too caught up in the emotion of the evening to think clearly.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Yes! Oh yes!"

Mum's voice was low, coarse and passionate; the pace of thumping slow and measured. Though completely inexperienced in the world of penetrative sex, after long hours as a reluctant listener, I could tell this was not going to be a quickie; they were going for a marathon.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Mmmm! Oh yes!"

I pulled my pillow over my head to try and block out the noise, but it was still there. I rolled back and forth trying to ignore it, but it was impossible.

Then I heard a soft rattle and my bedroom door opened. A familiar shape crossed the darkened room towards me and slipped under the duvet as it had so many times in the past, snuggling up behind me into our usual spoon - the position that made best use of the limited space my single bed allowed.

"Were you awake?" Mark slurred into my ear in a soft whisper.

"Yep."

"You heard it?"

"Yep."

"It's awful," he continued. "Are other parents so embarrassing?"

"Probably," I chuckled.

I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he snuggled closer, and the warmth of his bare chest on my back through the cotton of my nightgown. From the slurring of his words I could tell he was at least as tipsy as I was.

"You looked amazing tonight, Annie," he slurred again.

"Don't tease me," I chided, blatantly fishing for another compliment.

"I'm not," he insisted, his voice suddenly loud before continuing in a whisper. "I'm not teasing. You looked amazing. All the boys were staring at you."

"You mean it?" I asked, fishing again.

"Why did you think I made you do all the slow dances with me? I didn't want those grubby hands all over you!"

The thought of his little sister being fondled on the dancefloor might have brought out the gentleman in my brother at the party, but it had clearly also put another though in his mind. A moment later, I felt his hand stroking my side absently.

Along with his breath on the back of my neck, it felt very nice indeed. I sighed and relaxed my body against his.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Mmmm! Yessss!"

The noises from Mum and Dad's room continued.

"They'll be crabby in the morning," Mark whispered. "And tired."

"Or they'll be undressing each other over breakfast," I added grumpily

"Either way, they'll be hung over," he chuckled.

"We'd better have a lie in then," I smiled into the darkness.

"Suits me!

Mark adjusted his position to one in which we could comfortably spend the night in my little bed as we had done so many times before. One settled, the lateness of the hour and the champagne began to take their toll and, despite the increasingly noisy and passionate floor show coming from our parents' room, I started to doze.

I don't know how long I slept before I realised that my brother's hand was no longer just stroking my side but had worked its way upwards and was gently cupping my left boob through my night gown. At the same time, I could feel his lips planting a series of tiny kisses across my shoulders and the back of my neck.

Slightly dazed and very sleepy, all that registered in my mind was how very lovely it felt. His hands were soft and gentle, his lips light.

I could feel my breast firming and my and nipple hardening beneath his fingers. Something vaguely told me that this wasn't quite right, but the darkness, my sleepiness and the sheer pleasure of being touched in this unfamiliar but unthreatening way drove any uneasiness from my mind.

Mum and Dad's sexual activities, if not over for the night, must at least have reached a temporary pause, because for a while the noises stopped. There was no sound to be heard other than the bedside clock ticking and my brother's slow breathing behind me as he continued to shower my shoulders and neck with tiny kisses.

Confused, unable or unwilling to bring these very pleasant sensations to an end, I simply lay there with my eyes closed and enjoyed them. Up till then, my life had not been noticeably full of young male attention, so the evening's event had been something of a pleasant surprise.

On top of that, to now have the undivided, physically close attention of my good-looking brother in this intimate but reassuring way, was icing on the cake.

The fondling, stroking and kissing progressed no further, but continued for a long time, making me shiver with pleasure. My few remaining reservations faded until eventually, I fell asleep in my brother's arms.

***

Mark must have woken early, because by the time I opened my tired eyes the next morning, I was alone in bed. My head was fuddled from too much wine the night before, but I was very much aware that something unexpected had happened; something that had been very pleasant, but which was a little unsettling.

I padded downstairs around eleven o'clock in my short cotton nightie to find Mum and Dad in the kitchen getting brunch ready. As if their nocturnal activities hadn't been enough, they were being nauseatingly close and smoochy, continually touching each other and making sexual references quite inappropriate for a daughter of any age to hear, let alone one only in the sixth form.

I helped myself to a mug of strong coffee then, mentally putting my fingers down my throat at their antics, went into the lounge to watch some TV and leave the two lovebirds to themselves.

As I approached the door, I could hear the low drone of the set already playing. I entered the room to find my brother Mark lying face down on the sofa, moaning softly, apparently in the throes of a hangover far worse than my own.

It was comical to watch; more so when Mum came in with a tray on which were a glass of water, two paracetamol and a mug of coffee. She placed them on a low table next to Mark who moaned again.

"You should know better by now," Mum scolded him. "You'll just have to try and sleep if off."

"Thanks Mum," he croaked without raising his head.

"Drink plenty of water. Didn't you do that before you went to sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep," he moaned again. "Something kept waking me up."

He raised his head until only I could see his face then gave me a massive wink.

How I stopped myself collapsing in convulsions of laughter, I do not know. Until Mum had left the room, all I could do was bite my lower lip and grip my mug with both hands as hard as I could.

The moment she had gone, I hastily placed my coffee on the tray beside Mark, sat next to him on the sofa and the two of us began to giggle uncontrollably, leaning against each other for support.

Eventually our convulsions died down and a slightly awkward silence descended, as if neither of us knew how or even whether to mention what had happened in bed the previous night.

My head was full of questions:

Had he realised what he was doing?

Had he been simply on autopilot; too drunk to understand it was his sister he was fondling and kissing?

Or had it been something else entirely; something much deeper?

In the end, neither of us was able to make that decision because Mum and Dad came in and called us through for brunch, making any such discussion impossible.

After that, the day was so filled with Grandparents' visits and New Year family meals, that it would have been impossible to find enough privacy even if we wanted to.

That night I waited in the darkness of my room for a long time in case Mark came in to join me, but he didn't. It should have been a relief, but as I lay waiting for sleep to overtake me, the main emotion I felt was disappointment.

The same happened the following night. I began to wonder whether Mark had been so drunk on New Years' Eve that he really didn't remember how he had touched me in my bed. Perhaps it had been a casual instinct on his part and meant nothing.

I really didn't want it to be that, as my disturbing, arousing dreams made very clear.

The night after that, I could stand it no longer. We were due to restart school in the morning and I couldn't let the new year begin with so many questions in my mind. Once our parents were safely ensconced in their bedroom and their Sunday night antics had started, I slipped out of my room, crossed the landing and silently let myself into Mark's bedroom.

The bedside light was on and he was holding a book but had clearly not been reading. As I approached the bed, he lifted the side of the duvet as usual to let me slide in. I did so happily, delighted at his unhesitating welcome and had soon taken my customary place, spooning against him, my back against his chest, my bottom resting on the top of his thighs.

"I thought you weren't going to come," he whispered into my ear as his hand began to stroke my upper arm.

"I thought you were avoiding me," I countered.

"I wasn't sure how welcome I would be," he replied. "I mean after last time when I..."

"Shhh! It was lovely," I told him with a smile, turning my head around to kiss him on the forehead.

"You're not angry?"

"Of course not. You were sweet."

Mark's sigh of relief was so deep that it ruffled my hair. I could feel the tension leaving his body as my own relaxed closer into his strong masculine frame. The stroking of my arm resumed. A few minutes later the tiny kisses began to fall on my shoulders and the back of my neck once again.

Then the thumping noises from Mum and Dad's room began.

"Oh God! Not again!" he moaned, exasperated.

There was a long pause in which the thumping became louder. Mark's hand continued its stroking.

"Do you think they'll split up?" I eventually asked.

Mark thought for a moment.

"It might be for the best," he eventually replied. "They've been fighting and making up for so long I can't remember anything else."

Mum's wailing voice could be clearly heard through two closed doors. Although I had heard her cries many times, for some reason that night they had a new and unexpected effect on my own body. A warm glow appeared between my thighs.

"They do get on sometimes," I shrugged.

"That's just sex," Mark sniffed. "They need a lot more than just fucking to make their marriage last."

"It's lasted years already," I reminded him.

"But the rows have never been this bad before have they?"

He was right. Maybe Mum and Dad should go their separate ways. But with the sounds of passionate sex ringing in my ears it was hard to picture that being a better result.

Mark must have felt something too, because his stroking fingers strayed as they had before, to my upper boob. As before, I held my breath at the first touch of his fingers but made no protest. In fact, I moved my arm and leaned back a little to give him slightly easier access.

It worked, but slowly. A few minutes later, my brother's fingers had moved further across my chest until my whole, tiny, cotton-covered globe was nestling in the palm of his hand. It felt simply wonderful, even more so when he parted the hair at the back of my neck with his nose, breathed warm air onto my skin and began to kiss me there.

The thought that this should not be happening between a brother and sister simply did not occur to me. All I knew was that in Mark's arms I felt secure, loved and -- yes, I'll say it, beautiful. I did not want the warmth and intimacy ever to end.

Emboldened by my response -- or lack of it -- Mark took the next hesitant step. Before long, I felt his fingers toying with my nipple through my night gown. I could feel it getting very hard as he nipped it and gently twisted it.

Few boys' hands had been on my boobs before, and all of those had been clumsy groping behind the school cafeteria or in my friends' bedrooms. Mark's touch was expert in comparison. For a moment I wondered just how my brother had picked up the expertise he was using to please me and who he had practiced with.

Then I felt his hand slide slowly down my side to my bottom where his palm came to rest on my uppermost buttock. I froze in surprise. Mark paused, his hand very still on my sensitive flesh as if waiting. Then, receiving no admonition from me, he began to stroke my smooth cheek.

Instinctively I raised my knees; Mark's hand slipped underneath my night gown and began to stroke the bare flesh of my bottom. From the underside of my left cheek to my waist and all around, his hand slowly and gently caressed my skin in a way no hand had done before.

At the same time, the kisses falling on my neck were replaced by a warm nuzzling as his nose buried itself in my hair and his hot breath fell across my shoulders.

I knew this definitely shouldn't be happening, but it felt so good, it did not even cross my mind to try and stop it. Instead, I closed my eyes and relaxed into the amazing new sensations that were filling my young body.

I felt loved; I felt attractive; I felt aroused to a degree I had never felt before, a warm tingling between my legs growing stronger with every minute that my brother's hand remained on my body.

I will never know just how far I would have let Mark go before stopping him because, to my severe disappointment, he stopped himself. Not the cuddling; not the spooning; they continued but for reasons unknown, the intimate fondling came to an end.

Later that night, I lay in bed alone, puzzled, wondering what on earth had just happened, but with a powerful desire for it to happen again.

***

Of course, the warm companionship Mum and Dad had enjoyed over the Christmas break couldn't last. The following Friday evening when they came in from meeting their friends, first at the pub then on to dinner in a restaurant, they were indulging in another of their interminable rows.

The shouting was upsetting even though I had heard it many times before so, as I had also done many times before, I sneaked into my brother's bedroom and slipped alongside him under the duvet.

"Nice to see you Annie," he whispered, kissing me on the cheek.

"They're at it again. Can I stay with you for a while?" I pleaded.

"Of course. Here, snuggle up!"

Mark rolled onto his side and I spooned against him again, my back against his chest, my bottom nestled in its usual place at his hips. His upper arm went around my waist comfortingly as it had so many times before, and I felt his warm breath on my shoulders.

"Do you think they're finally going to split up this time?" I asked anxiously.

"I don't know," my brother replied. "I hope not, but they're fighting more and more. What's it about tonight?"

"I didn't hear properly," I replied. "Dad said something about her flirting; Mum was shouting about a girl at Dad's work."

The noise from their bedroom was changing. The shouting had stopped, and a dull silence had descended. Perhaps their row was over. Still, snuggled up against my brother's big, strong body I was in no hurry to go back to my room. Mark seemed in no hurry to get the bed back to himself either.

A moment later, I felt his fingers stroking my side again; casually, as it had done before. Perhaps his breath on my shoulders and the nuzzling of my neck were a little more intense, but that could have been my imagination.

What was not in my imagination a few minutes later was the slow, almost accidental straying of his fingers from my sides to my waist and from my waist to my hips, then down onto my bottom where they gently stroked my tingling skin.

I sighed, slowly and silently raising my knees again, rumpling my nightie and exposing the base of my buttocks. Mark's fingers soon found the soft smooth line of sensitive flesh where the back of my thigh met the softness of my bottom and ran his fingertips along its length.

The feeling was simply amazing. No boy had touched me there so softly or so delicately. I dimly realised some kind of watershed had just been crossed; that once again something was happening that should not be, but it felt so good!

"Mark?" I began to protest weakly.

"Shhh! It's okay," he hissed into my ear.

"But you're..."

"Shhh!"

My body stiffened for a moment, then I felt the back of my nightie being raised and my brother's large, strong hands began to stroke my bare buttocks properly, cupping them in his soft, warm palms, his fingertips toying with the creases at the back of my thighs.

The sensations were amazing; a shudder of excitement shot through me along with a powerful wave of misgiving. This was an openly sexual act; no amount of self-deceit could disguise it. Mark's fingers had passed through a moral and emotional barrier as well as a purely physical one.

Then his finger slipped from the smooth roundness of my buttocks and along the hot, wet folds of flesh between them.

I froze. Mark's hand on my vulva froze too, as if waiting for me to react.

My body was simply electrified by his touch. My mind screamed that this was very, very wrong; that I should shout out loud; push him away and run back to my room or even into our parents' room and tell them what he had done... but my body was sending a very different message; one that was impossible to ignore.

I did not react. I did not push him away. I did nothing to stop him at all.

For the record, I want to make it clear that, although I was the seduced rather than the seducer, everything that happened next, happened with my complete acceptance and compliance. Nothing happened against my will and, despite knowing that what we were doing was very wrong, I made no attempt to prevent it.

I did not want to prevent it. All I did was hold my breath and wait.

I did not have wait long.

Meeting no kind of resistance or objection, Mark began to finger my inexperienced vulva from behind. Tentatively at first, then with increasing boldness and confidence, my brother's long fingers explored the folds of rapidly moistening flesh between my thighs.