Crossing The Line

I stopped other work and wrote this in two days, with one edit. I'll cross my fingers that there aren't too many mistakes. Pacing was hard on this one. It does start slow, so be warned.

I hope you enjoy this one, folks, as far-fetched as it is. Cheers!

*****

I never thought of Peter this way before, but I can't get the thoughts out of my head.

My brother and I are twins. I'll come straight out and admit that we do not hold many, if any, of the "twin stereotypes" one might hear about. We're not close or connected in any special way. In fact, growing up we were always fighting. We didn't share the same interests, we weren't the same gender, and he was considerably smarter than me, which I suppose I envied. That said, I was more athletic and popular. It annoyed him.

The atmosphere in our upper middle-class household bordered the lines of tolerable and toxic. In our late teens, Peter and I learned it was best not to engage with each other. It prevented unnecessary arguments and bitterness. We simply respected boundaries and acknowledged each other's presence every now and then.

My brother was the epitome of "nerd" in every way throughout school. He was short and scrawny his freshman year, wore big glasses on his face, and was kind of a know-it-all. He grew taller going throughout high school, but stayed skinny and lanky. The nerd persona remained with him and he never acquired many friends.

It wasn't until his senior year that he met Jon Adler, his best friend now. He's almost as nerdy as Peter, with the exception of being addicted to running. He somehow got Peter into and for the last four years, they've run seven to ten miles every morning.

Peter and I were destined to stay in our home town and go to Cal U, no matter what. Dad's an alum, and an important one. The school itself is respectable and large, but Peter could have gone to any top ten school in the nation, on full academic scholarship. He wasn't exactly thrilled at being a prisoner to Dad's demands. Still, Peter recognized how important it was to our father.

Besides, Dad also bought us a townhouse a quarter mile from campus and gave us a monthly stipend. For extra money, I worked a few hours a week waiting tables, while Peter coded one-off projects every now and then. We had it pretty good, with no expenses and no debt. We shared the space at the townhouse in the same manner as we did in high school, by ignoring each other. He handled his groceries and toiletries; I did mine. We never shared or stole anything from each other. Having lived this way for so long, it felt normal to both of us.

So on this fine Saturday morning, I was finishing up a school paper when my printer failed. Peter would normally have been out on his run with Jon, but he had mentioned a tech conference he was going to this weekend. I knew if I texted or called asking, he would say no. He cringes whenever anyone steps in his room, very protective of his things.

If Peter were here, he would certainly let me to email the file to him, so he could print it off and bring it to me. We were respectful enough to help with such odd requests, of course. Even if I could send the file directly to his printer (which I cannot do, because it isn't on wi-fi), he would have insisted on bringing it to me personally, rather than allowing me to fetch it from his room myself. Neither of us allowed each other in our rooms. Again, habits and rules of the boundaries we established in our childhood. Peter would utterly freak if he found out I so much as stepped the six paces into his room to get that paper.

But I had to do it. I swore I'd get it to the TA by noon and she was coming in on a Saturday, already making special time for me. I moved the file to a USB drive and went for it, hoping I wouldn't leave evidence of my presence behind.

We didn't have locks on our doors, because we didn't need them. Years of trust building accomplishes that. Hell, Peter didn't even have a password on his desktop. Again, he just knew I would never cross these boundaries.

Here I was, crossing these boundaries. I felt like a cheating spouse, in a way.

I quickly popped the flash drive in the bay and clicked on the file. In my nervous, even though I knew Peter was out for the entire day. Once the file was opened, I clicked the print button and off it went. After a short warmup, the printer hummed and spat out twelve sheets of paper, before stopping. Thank goodness there hadn't been any snags.

I reached over to take them off the printer when I heard the most heart-dropping sound. The keys to the door. Peter was working his way in. No one else had a key to the townhouse. Not even our parents. Never before have I acted so fast to escape a situation.

First, understand that our townhouse is unusual in that the bedrooms are on the bottom floor, while upstairs leads to an open loft, containing the living room, kitchen and dining area altogether. Downstairs, the front door opens into a foyer and then a hall. The foyer's spiral staircase takes you upstairs, while the hall leads you to the two bedrooms and bathroom in between. One can clearly see into the hall from the foyer. My bedroom was first, followed by the door to the bath, and then Peter's room.

Like lightning, I zipped to Peter's door, closing it fast, but quietly. As it opens to the inside of the room, Peter couldn't see me closing it, even if he had already made it inside the foyer already. I heard the front door closing behind him. I jumped back, snatching the papers of the printer and yanking the USB drive out of the bay. I quickly closed the folder and ducked under his desk, pulling the chair behind me. This left me cramped, but otherwise unseen.

Here's where it gets really scary.

Peter is still a nerd, in every way. His desk is important to him and a few years ago he spent a fortune on graduation money buying this gigantic thing. It's wide, deep, and several inches higher than most desks, with deep shelving on both sides. The center monitor can be adjusted horizontally and vertically, allowing the user to use the desk standing, which Peter did more frequently than sitting. The whole thing is massive and fancy, easily taking up half the space in his room. Fortunately for me, it's wide enough to duck under and still pull the chair all the way back into it. It just left me in an awkward position.

Speaking of the chair. Another fortune, a gift from Dad. Peter always kept it neatly tucked into the desk when he wasn't using it, likely to save space. Ironic, as often as he worked standing up, the chair was pulled away, taking up even more functional space in the room.

As I said, the desk is deep. Over three feet, maybe as much as four. I'm small and lithe, except for maybe these c-cups I wrangle with every now and then. Maybe if I weren't all of 100 pounds soaking wet, they wouldn't seem so big. Anyway, I was able to pin myself against the back wall, but my legs were pulled back and spread wide, with my head between my knees practically, and my tits squeezed out past them. As I said, an awkward position, but it allowed me to pull the chair all the way in, to its tucked position.

"Astrid? Hey, A? You home?" I heard my brother calling as he walked down the hall.

Of course I didn't respond. Hell, I was holding my breath. I heard him tapping on my door, calling my name again, before giving up and coming to his room. He opened the door and walked further in before I saw him. Considering how far back I was under the desk, I could only see him from the waist down and no more. He was wearing sweats. I wasn't Sherlock Holmes, but even I could figure out he must have been on his daily run.

'Didn't you have some conference to go to?' I thought to myself.

Just then, his phone buzzed. It dawned on me that my phone was in my room and if it went off without being answered, Peter would be highly suspicious of something. I prayed it wouldn't.

"Oh, hey, Mom."

There was a pause. I couldn't hear anything but Peter's side of the conversation.

"Yeah, I told you I would. I emailed Dad about it."

Another pause.

"Yeah... No, no, stop worrying... Ooooh, that's why you're calling. Yeah, we're still going. It got delayed, not canceled.'

I wasn't sure what the talk was about, but I was guessing it was something to do with that tech conference.

"Two weeks from now. Main speaker got quarantined coming back from India. Just a precaution, but blows the whole thing." Another lengthy pause. "Okay, will do. Talk to you later... uh... no, I don't know where she is... if she were here I would tell her, but she's not. You call her... I dunno, I might forget. Yeah, yeah..."

'Oh my god, please please don't call me now, Mom!,' I was screaming off in my head, over and over. In hindsight, it seems juvenile to go to such lengths to not get "busted" by my brother, but now I was too far in. I prayed he would head to the shower soon, his usual routine.

Peter hung up with Mom and dropped the phone on the top of the desk. He was up close to the desk, just to the right of the chair, somewhat behind it. If Peter sat down to use the computer,I was doomed. His legs would touch me.

Then it happened.

Normally, when Peter or I go to shower, we go in with our clothes on, with a change of clothes in hand, doing all our business in the bathroom. I don't think we've been naked in the same room since we were born. Maybe, because he thought I wasn't home, Peter felt safe to strip naked in his room, because that's exactly what he did.

Though Peter has never seen me topless or naked, he has seen me in skimpy-ish night clothing, and every summer, bikinis, when I go out with friends. I'm not really bashful or anything. He's seen my body plenty... but I have never seen Peter in anything outside of over-sized t-shirts and sweats, shirts and jeans, and of course, his long pajamas. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I saw him topless. I figured because he had that scrawny-lanky look, he avoided wearing clothes that didn't cover everything.

I had to have been wrong.

Peter ran miles and miles with his best friend every morning. His bare legs now showed the results of that work clearly now. Sure, they were long and somewhat thin, but the muscles bulged. Racer's legs.

It was, however, the muscle between the legs that made my eyes bulge out of my head.

In one swoop, Peter had not only removed his sweats, but the briefs under them. Before me hung the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen in my life. Not like I'd seen a lot, but enough to know. It hung low, like maybe over six inches. It was thick, but not absurdly so. It had just the most subtle tilt to the left, ending with a meaty head. Circumcised, thanks to family traditions. It swung left and right with his actions, drawing my attention. Demanding it.

Peter turned, displaying a firm and round, if not small, ass. He headed to the shower just as his phone rang again. He came back to answer it, torturing me with the view. I was still curled up with with my knees high and held wide, as I was pressed back against the wall. Again, this allowed the chair to tuck wholly into the underside of the desk, but it also forced me to look directly ahead... with that beautiful cock hanging in front of me.

Had Peter stepped over just a pace or two to the right, everything would have been fine. I wouldn't have been able to see anything, out of view. I'm not typically one who thinks trashy things, but thoughts of sucking on that cock flashed in my mind instantly. I couldn't help it. I had no control over them. I had no idea Peter was so graced in that department. It got me so hot. So wet.

"Hey, what's up?" asked Peter, over the phone.

Again, I could hear nothing on the other side of the conversation. Peter's shlong continued to dazzle me as he talked.

"Yeah, I'm headed to the shower now... you said six o'clock, right? You want me to pick who up?" More pause. "Fine, whatever. Text me the address. Okay, back at ya."

He hung up again. How I wished it wouldn't have been such a short conversation. Finally, he left the room with some clothes in hand,and I heard the door to the bathroom open and close. I gently shoved the chair forward and wrestled out of the desk's cavity. Had I been in there much longer, I would have started cramping, I think.

Keeping the papers and the USB drive in hand, I put the chair back in its place and tiptoed out of the room, back to mine. I was grateful we lived in a new place, where doors and floors don't creak and rattle. I snatched my phone off my drawer, muting it and dropped on the bed. My pussy was soaking wet. I couldn't stop fantasizing about sucking off my brother.

My twin brother...

****

'I think Jon is trying too hard,' I thought to myself as I entered the shower. 'Ever since he and Julia Watterson started dating, he's afraid I'm going to be alone. Or maybe he thinks I'm jealous. I'm not. I get it.'

"Will you stop doing the morning runs? Even if you marry her?" I once asked.

"No, of course not, Peter!" Jon insisted.

"Then stop trying to set me up with your grilfriend's friends," I laughed.

But nope. At it again. He just called, wanting me to pick up Deborah Hall, his girlfriend's old roommate, before we go out tonight. On our run this morning, Jon convinced me to enjoy an evening out... "for once"... since the conference got moved back. He thinks I am a stick in the mud sometimes. So just a night on the town with him and Julia, but he didn't say it would be a double date.

Truth is, I want to focus on and finish school. I'm not into the idea of managing a relationship right now. Besides, I have all the beat-off material I need, with my sister living in the same space. Astrid has no idea, but I fucking love it when she wears those tight tees to bed with no bra. She has a perfect tiny figure, with incredible breasts. Big for her small frame, but not obscenely so. Her pert little ass caps everything off.

Despite my fantasies of my Astrid, we still carry some of the friction leftover from childhood. I've always wondered, if we had a better relationship, would she be wearing that kind of stuff more often?

Our relationship was shaky enough, and I didn't want to rock the boat by trying lame attempts at making it better. That could backfire. We had a tendency to bark at each other when we communicated, leaving us to withdraw from each other even more. Some people just don't mix. That's us. So I keep Astrid at the distance we built, and I get treated often enough to the visual joys of seeing her in the occasional nightie, tight tee, or a bikini when the season's right.

As I was stepping out of the shower, I heard the front door open and close. Astrid must have had to run an errand or something. I think she has work later tonight, but she mentioned something about dropping a paper off at the school. We hadn't actually had a conversation in some time, and we weren't keen on keeping tabs on one another, anyway. I often forget where she goes or what she is up to.

I dried off and put on the clean pair of jeans I'd brought in to the bath with me, followed by a tee and button up. Shoes were back in my room, where I'd gotten out of my stinky sweats the moment I realized Astrid wasn't home, and could walk naked freely around the apartment. In some ways, it was nice not having A around. She once left for an entire weekend, and I stayed upstairs, binge-watching some sci-fi show while naked. I wondered if Astrid ever behaved the same when I was gone.

For whatever reason, we were very protective of not seeing each other naked. Maybe that's why I got excited when she wore skimpy attire around me. I'm no Freudian psychologist, but I suppose the taboo nature of it could be debated. I very much enjoyed using images of my sister in my head when I masturbated. God forbid she ever reads my journal and discover that, but if there's one thing we're tight about, it's our privacy.

I left the bathroom, bumping into A as she stood at the door to her room. She was leaning against the door's frame.

"I was out for a walk," she lied. "I thought you were going to some conference."

"That got canceled several days ago... well, uh... pushed back." I wanted to hold the conversation as long as possible. It was one of the good days. Astrid wore a tight tee. A bra was on, but it was straining to hold everything. In fact, It kind of shoved the flesh up, revealing more than intended, I would guess.

"Oh, okay, just curious," she said. "Anything else?"

"Oh, oh yeah, Mom called. Told me to tell you about helping with that cookie fundraiser. Annual thing she does with Red Cross or something."

"Oh, yeah, the one time each year we actually do something together."

Our parents live close enough, and we're friendly, but not close. Again, a strangely, slightly dysfunctional upbringing. Mom would try to force us together for family events every now and then.

"Well, I need to take a quick shower, before I drop that paper off to the school. What are you gonna do without the conference?"

"Jon's making me go out tonight, but I'm not leaving until 5:30. Probably do some coding in the meantime. You? Plans tonight? Work?"

This was more talking than we'd done in ages, I thought. I was also lucky as shit. Astrid had kind of stretched her back, pushing her chest out now, I guess warming down from her walk or whatever she was doing, but damn it looked good. I felt my cock rising in my jeans. I could even see the indentions of her nipples through her t-shirt.

"Not sure. Calling some friends when I get back from school. I'm not working tonight. Well, I'm going to hop in the shower. See you later, okay?"

Astrid pushed off the frame she'd been leaning against and began walking around me toward the bathroom. I noticed she didn't have any clothes in her hand. Maybe she was just going to put back on what she was wearing? Strange.

I stood there kind of stupid looking as I watched her enter the bathroom and close the door behind her, not hearing the lock click behind her. We don't ever lock our bedrooms (they don't even have them), but we both typically lock the bathroom door when we're in the shower or using the toilet, just out of respect.

Scratching my head, I headed back to my room.

*****

'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" I ranted to myself in my head. 'Did I get away with it?'

When Peter turned off the shower, I got up and went to the foyer. After standing a few moments, I opened and closed the door, acting as if I was just coming home. I walked to my room and leaned against the frame of the open door, waiting for my brother to come out of the bathroom.

I think I was shaking the whole time we talked. For one, I am super nervous he's going to figure out I went in his room, but more importantly, I couldn't get thoughts of his beautiful cock out of my head. I think I could have cum, just standing there, thinking about his cock while he talked to me. I might have, if it had gone on much longer. I ended the conversation and rushed around Peter, taking his place in the shower. I shut the door and fell to the ground.

'Please, please tell me I got away with it,' I begged to nobody and everybody in my head. My heart was racing.

Finally, I got up and began stripping. Just as pulled off my panties, I realized I hadn't brought in a change of clothes. I was a victim to my nerves while trying to play it cool around my brother.

'It's okay, I'll just wrap a towel or two around me,' I thought, as I stepped in the shower, turning on the water. 'Hmm.. maybe it will give Peter an opportunity to see me in just a towel."

I was starting to feel dirty... in a good way.

*****

I wasn't positive, but something felt off about that interaction with my sister. She'd even left the door to her room open when she went to shower. Poking my head in, out of nothing more than sheer curiosity, I noticed her phone and the paper she'd been working on, both sitting on top of her drawer. I shrugged and turned back to go to my room when something clicked.