Big Brother Comes Home

"You know, I'm rather concerned about you, Chrissie," she said, when she knew I wasn't taking it all in. "I'll call by this evening to make sure you are all right."

"It's not necessary," I replied, "I'm OK."

But she insisted. I think she wanted to see Bernie and try to make some advances of her own to him.

We parted but still my thoughts were not really with my best friend. I was still fantasising about my own brother; being away from him for the afternoon hadn't taken away any of the lust I felt for him. It only made it worse, something about absence making the heart grow stronger. It was more like absence making my lust grow stronger.

As I got into the car to return home I realized my thong was wet with my secretions. I was so turned on by thought of my brother I had got all wet. How would this end? In disaster probably, but there was nothing I could do about that. This was certainly out of my hands, and into my pussy. You know the comment about men thinking with their cocks, well, this was just about the same thing. I was thinking entirely with my pussy. My poor old dad used to say that boys were 'cunt struck' when they were after a girl. Was this the female equivalent? Was I 'cock struck' or was it something deeper? Had I always loved Bernie, but never given any thought to how much? Yes I missed him very much when I got married and left home, and again when he married that grabbing little witch. But I had never given a moment's thought to sleeping with him. He was just my big brother. These confusing thoughts chased each other round and round in my head as I drove home.

The house was quiet as I unloaded the groceries. Bernie was nowhere to be seen. I went through to mum's apartment. She told me he had gone out for the evening and wouldn't be coming home that night. My first thought was why? Did he know how much I wanted him? I was totally resigned to taking him to my bed that night, despite all my reservations. I knew we were going to make love, even if he didn't. He started this, not me. Why did he make me realise how he felt about me if he didn't want me?

It was a shock to find him gone and not returning until the following day. I felt bereft of his company. My mind had been made up for me on the drive home, the thoughts of all the nice little things we had done together made me realise how much he meant to me. It was more that any brother-sister relationship could bring. Subconsciously I must have known he wanted me all my life, it was just that it had taken his revelation to make me realise it. That made me realise I wanted him. It wasn't just my hubby being away for so long, or my desire for some male company. I needed sex but it had to be someone special. There was no one more suited to this role than Bernie. It was our destiny, our ultimate goal to be together, if only in private and in bed.

I had forgotten that Mary was calling to see me that evening. I was so wrapped up in my worries about why Bernie had gone out and was not coming home for the night. But she turned up in her little car; well it was really her mother's car as she couldn't afford one of her own. Her husband was in and out of work, and even when he was at work he drank so much they were still living hand to mouth.

She was so excited about meeting Bernie again and, as I suspected, that was her real reason for visiting. I told her Bernie had gone out for the evening and might stay out all night. She was almost as devastated as I was. We consoled ourselves in a bottle of wine or three.

By eleven she was far too drunk to drive her car and I wasn't far behind her. She phoned her hubby and told him she was staying the night with me. He wasn't very happy. He expected her to wait on him hand and foot, like a slave, because she was certainly not paid in any way at all for what she did in their home. He had even resorted to violence at times. She had come to me with a black eye more than once.

I felt so sorry for her. Most of her clothes were hand-me-downs. Many of my clothes found their way into her wardrobe as we were about the same size and had similar tastes.

She didn't have anything with her, as she hadn't intended to stop. But that didn't matter. She wouldn't need night clothes because neither of us wore anything in bed other than a little dab of my favourite perfume. The only thing she would need was a tooth brush and I had several new ones that she could have. As for undies, she could borrow or beg something of mine to go home in the following day, as long as she didn't nick my special undies .... the ones I kept for Andy's homecoming and had worn especially for my brother.

We sat up drinking another bottle of wine, me to drown my sorrows that Bernie wouldn't be sharing my bed - even though I had decided he could and should, Mary, because Bernie wasn't here as she had hoped and wanted him to be. Also as in some small celebration that she'd freedom from her daily grind in an impoverished home. It must have been twelve midnight by the time we staggered up the stairs to bed. I hadn't thought, but our spare room was now Bernie's room and the other rooms weren't aired or even furnished. We just hadn't got around to choosing the right things for them.

"Why not sleep in my bed?" I suggested.

Mary agreed and, after a quick wash and brushing our teeth, we climbed into my bed, both as naked as jay birds.

There was nothing strange about that. After all we went to school together and had showered together so many times. It seemed quite natural. That was until I felt her hand touching my leg. Not just an accidental brush, this was a definite stroke. I almost shouted out, but something stopped me.

I lay there, not daring to breathe, her hand getting nearer my smooth shaven pussy. I wanted her to stop but didn't, both at the same time. Perhaps it was the constant state of arousal I had been in since Bernie made those remarks only the day before. It seemed like weeks ago now, but I had been worked up for twenty-four hours and, other than a quick wank, had no relief. Whatever the cause, I didn't try to stop her as she touched my clitty, making me cry out a little moan of delight. I wasn't gay. Why was this so nice, so exciting?

My legs opened without the slightest instruction from my conscious mind. It just sort of happened, as her fingers delved deeper into my crack. Touching the lips of my cunt she moved so she could get a better angle and her finger sank deep inside me, bringing the sweetest feeling of pure love I have ever felt. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Her fingers weren't demanding or urgent like a man's would have been, but soft and gentle. She was just stroking inside my cunt with her long nails; just scratching my tight tube. She bent her head to mine, kissing me full on my lips. Again I thought I would be repulsed but it was nice, not so sexy as my hubby's would have been but sweet and kind gentle and loving, her tongue opened my lips and explored the inside of my mouth, me just letting her do what ever she wanted with me.

Her spare hand felt for my large tits, stroking and oh, so gently touching my erect nipples, making me groan that contented sound again. Oh my god! I was going to cum so quickly.

It hit me from nowhere, just sort of arrived, no warning like I usually had. I normally feel the tension building up inside me and then the release as my climax bursts. But this was so unexpected, so nice so strange.

Mary held me there for a while then let me come down gently. She whispered in my ear, "You needed that didn't you Chrissie?"

Other than a gentle purr escaping from my throat, I could only nod my silly head in the dark room. She got the message, because she moved so her head was between my thighs and lowered her mouth to my pussy.

Now, I love tongue sex, but had never even thought about a woman doing it to me. Again, she was so much gentler than Andy would have been. There was only the lightest of licks across my hot enlarged clitty. It was sticking out from it's little hood, begging for her attention. She licked me from my bum right up to my belly button and then down again, making me sigh in total contentment.

This was so nice, so gentle, but so sexy. Her tongue felt softer than my usual finger, but nevertheless was very nice and oh, so good. She licked harder and concentrated on my clitty. Her mouth enclosed it completely; then she sucked on it, bringing it into her mouth. Her teeth grazed it as she sucked and played with my clit inside her mouth.

This time my climax was as expected, more like normal. The feeling of tension built up rapidly - up my legs, my tummy tightening as she made me feel so sexy, so worked up, so wanton and naughty. I felt those sort-of cramp feelings. It started in my toes, building as it came up my legs, into my pussy, crashing into my belly like an express train, then carrying on through my body into my head, making it swim as my senses left me.

I lay there totally spent it was as if I had been fucked long and hard. My body felt fully relaxed and totally satiated, like it does after a marathon sex romp with my hubby.

Mary lay there, having given me everything and receiving nothing in return. I was unsure of how to start, but sort of knew it would be expected of me. Yes, we had touched each other as kids, young teenagers experimenting with our new found sexuality.

This was so different. Mary had brought me to one of the most satisfying climaxes of my life and so gently. Normally I relate the intensity of my climax to the intensity of the foreplay. In other words, if he gets really randy with me, pressing just a bit too hard on my clitty or ramming his big cock into me a little bit harder than normal, I expect and get a more intense orgasm.

But Mary had been so gentle. It blew my mind to realise she was a better lover than my hubby could ever be. The only thing missing was the actual penetration, and even that was a luxury now he worked abroad.

My mind drifted to Bernie again. Was my desire for him fuelled by my need for sex, or was it because he had told me things that I have never thought about? Things like how he fancied me and loved to see me naked. As teenagers, lying in his bed, wanking while fantasising he was fucking his little sister. Or was it just my need for sex.

I have known for some time my desire for making love is much higher than most of my contemporaries. The mums who waited at the school gates complaining bitterly about having to satisfy their old mans' needs.

'He wanted it again last night, I just let him get his rocks off and went to sleep,' was quite a common attitude, whereas I couldn't wait for my man to come home. I was always ready for more, often instigating our lovemaking, but it wasn't hard. I only had to give him that look, or jump into bed naked and he was away. I can't help it. I just love making love.

All this time I had been daydreaming about my silly predicament and poor Mary had drifted off to sleep. How selfish was I, letting her do all that loving and not returning any? She must think I was a right bitch, but as I joined her in a deep and very restful sleep I promised myself I would learn to repay her for the wonderful things she did to me that night.

I woke early next morning, as is my normal routine. I had a quick shower and I came back into the bedroom. Mary was still sound asleep, the covers thrown back exposing her upper body, her cute titties standing out like peaks of sexy flesh topped off with her big brown areola and finally her nipples, standing proud on top of the hill.

It made me think of a bowl of ice-cream with chocolate sauce and cherries on top. Perhaps it was that thought, but something made me kneel gently on the bed and take one of her big juicy nipples in my mouth and suck it gently.

Mary woke with a start, disorientated at first. Being awakened by someone sucking her tit, in a strange bed and in a strange room, must have been a little frightening.

She soon got over her initial shock and moaned something like, "I thought you were never going to do it to me."

My fingers stroked the other nipple, making her push her chest up for more. But I had learned a very useful lesson last night; being gentle brings fantastic results.

Mary moaned, "Harder please. Do it to me really hard."

Obviously she wanted more than my gentle touch. I sucked a little harder and rolled her nipple between my finger and thumb, but still she cried, 'Harder please Chrissie, make me cum."

I sucked so hard my cheeks ached, and my fingers pressed as hard as I could on her tit. She moaned something about 'biting her nipple'. Did I hear her right?

She repeated it more clearly, "Bite me please. Bite my tit."

I grazed her nipple with my teeth, thinking how gentle she had been with me the previous night. Now she wanted me to be so rough with her. How could she be so gentle and want it so rough herself? I knew I owed her big time, and went for it, nibbling her nipple and gripping the other one as hard as I could; swapping from time to time to make sure both of them got some attention.

Mary was crying out in ecstasy as she got near to her climax. Her own hand took care of her clitty, and she wanked as I concentrated on her ample breasts. The bedcovers were now on the floor and she looked so sexy lying on my bed. Her legs were wide apart and she was panting with lust, moaning in pre-orgasmic bliss.

Suddenly, she started to thrash around on the bed. Her body became alive, her arms wrapped around my head, pulling me into her breasts as she hit her peak. She came with such force that she almost fell of the bed, but my arms were also wrapped around her, holding her like she was my lover. What else was she? We had been friends ever since that first day at school, when two little girls found someone just as scared and bewildered as each other and bonded in a lifetime friendship.

That, however, was many years ago. How come we hadn't gone that little bit further then while we were growing up, experimenting with this new idea of being young women; well, pubescent girls at least?

I held tight to her as she slowly came down and lay still in my arms. She was crying gently as I looked into her face. The tears were slowly oozing from her eyes and I was confused and worried as to what I'd done wrong.

"I'm confused," I said at last. "Tell me what's wrong."

But she just kept quietly crying, the tears making little rivulets of salty water across her pretty face. I thought how pretty she was, and how unfortunate that she had married a lazy bully of a man, who didn't care or appreciate her finer qualities.

It made me realise just how fortunate I was, having a loving husband who was prepared to be away from me for months at a time rather than lower our standard of living. Of course, there was more to his career than just the money; he loved the cut and thrust of his responsible job, and he was so good at it. He was being head-hunted, it seemed, every week. But he was also loyal, and dependable.

It struck me that I was considering being unfaithful to this fine example of a man, when poor Mary had none of the wonderful things I had. She had to put up with her husband's bullying ways, as well as constant poverty and she had never been unfaithful to the rat. How could I be so bloody selfish?

Why don't you have a shower and help yourself to anything you want from my wardrobe? I said, to Mary after a while." I'll get us some breakfast."

I wasn't thinking of breakfast, though, I had to phone Africa. It didn't matter about the time difference. He would be glad of my call any time of day or night. He had a satellite phone, so there was a good chance I would get through.

I dialled his number from the lounge phone. It rang a couple of times before he picked up. His voice was as always so calming and comforting, he really was my rock. No matter how much of a turmoil my life got into, he was always there with a kind word and a steadying influence.

I relaxed and spoke to him, talking about all the good things – and how the snowdrops had come up in the garden again. We reminisced about planting them together all those years ago. Then I dropped my bomb shell.

I just blurted out, "I've just spent the night with Mary and we had been very naughty."

His reply took me by surprise. "It's OK darling, you have your needs just as I have mine, but unfortunately I don't fancy any of my work mates."

Because of the dangerous situations it was an all male group that went out into strange countries. Girls weren't exactly welcome; he built big projects out in the most inaccessible places, working with the local people and just a few foreign management supervisors and engineers.

Their current job was building a dam to store water to make electricity – a hydroelectricity plant - in a country that was developing but had a long way to go. Currently, their only way in and out of the site was by helicopter. So he was isolated for most of the time he was out there. He would have been lonely and wishing he was at home with his lover, wife and girlfriend. I was all three to him. I had always tried to be adventurous and not afraid to do the unusual like a lover would. But more than this, to be coy and sweet like his girlfriend might and, of course, be his best friend like a wife must.

I wanted to tell him about Bernie but the words just wouldn't come out. He would help me put it into perspective, so long as he knew about it. We hung up, after wishing we could be together just for one night.

His parting words were a great comfort to me, he said, 'See you soon darling. Be ready for me, won't you."

The line went dead before I could answer, but he knew I would be as ready as he was to consummate our marriage again. We could forward to another honeymoon!

Mary came down in one of my old dresses, looking a little sheepish. I sat her down with a cup of coffee and made her talk.

"It was my first time with a girl, too, and I'm sorry I just got carried away," she began, hesitantly. "Can you ever forgive me for being so bold and so sexy with you last night?"

It was difficult for me to tell her that what she had done for me; made me realise just how fortunate I was and that her loving had stopped me making the biggest mistake of my life, sleeping with my brother. To sleep with any man would have been bad for my marriage. But my own brother, and the guilt it would have given me, might have destroyed the best thing that has ever happened to me, my marriage.

"It's fine, really," I started, "and I'm glad you made me feel so happy."

She didn't know why she'd done it, it just happened. She blamed the wine and her husband but I knew it was an attraction that had blossomed at last. It had been just under the surface for a long time, waiting for just the right moment to flourish into what was one of the nicest things ever to happen to me. Short, that is, of having my man at home. I told her not to be sad. It was so good, and if she wanted to stay again she would be very welcome. How do you tell your best friend she made you climax better than your own husband had ever done?

I think I got through to her, because she cheered up and we had some breakfast. She even went to see mum with me; she always liked my mother when we were younger. She often stayed over at mine. In fact it was my mother that told her the facts of life: her parents were strictly religious and never talked about anything like that at all. I will never forget mum sitting us both down and explaining the birds and the bees to two giggling kids who thought they knew everything. She kept it so light and normal that we grew up well adjusted little girls, without the silly misconceptions about sex that most young girls seem to have.

Mary and mum sat and chatted while I tidied up and made her bed. Mum still did her own cooking and most other things, just needing help with the bigger jobs. She was fiercely independent and I had to be careful not to encroach on her life. It was good to have her so close but still living her own life.