tagIncest/TabooRead to Me

Read to Me


I found myself this afternoon lost at the mailbox, tapping the wrong key half-heartedly. How long did I stand there? It's Sunday and there is never anything for me, anyway, but since my brother and I are home together, I can't think straight and try to keep busy with mindless tasks. I've been almost industrious, cleaning things as if I do that all the time.

At first I tried to study in my room, but the silence of him down in the living room was too distracting and I read one sentence for ten minutes. That alone was disquieting because I am such a good student I don't even go to school. I am on a leave of absence for "medical reasons." Since my brother returned home to live, he seems not to notice I don't leave in the morning, either. He's smart, "too smart for his own good," our parents say, but a dreamer, I guess. He always seems a little detached...

I got tired of tensing at any little noise that could be a footstep and went downstairs to see if he was even there. The thought he'd go somewhere without offering to take me made my heart sink a little, but I also hoped he had so things would seem normal and I'd be able to concentrate. I made sure to carry down a half-full basket of laundry.

He was sitting on the floor, with his back against the sofa, reading a thick book he rested on one knee. His other leg looked so long stretched out I paused on the stairs. He must be the tallest one in our family. I recalled the soft groans I'd sometimes hear from his room nights before he left home. I'd always attributed them to the ache in the bones from growth spurts, but I'm not so naïve I don't second guess that now.

I was staring at him. "I was going to put in some laundry. Is there anything you want washed?"

He looked up and aimed his blue gaze in my direction, but his mind was someplace else. "Oh. No... thank you," he told me, turning the page.

I scurried off to put in what was mostly cummy underwear.

I had to leave him alone, not be an annoying little sister. I wanted him here, it was so refreshing to have this intriguing new person around, so I had to make him comfortable and... at home.

A few minutes later, after sneaking a cigarette behind the house, I headed for the kitchen. I worried that if I cleaned too much, our parents would act shocked when they got home, but I went through the motions of mopping the floor, just loud enough to be inconspicuous, quiet enough to listen for the next turn of a page. As I worked, the natural thought of what he might look like naked entered my mind and I couldn't make it leave because I tried too hard. Then the worst possible thought inevitably invaded: I was actually thinking about my brother's cock and trying not to imagine what it might look like only brought me to the questions of feel, and then, sadly, taste. What did he like a girl to do to him...

"God damn it," I muttered under my breath. I was sweating from more than the light housework and it chilled me to the core. I had to get myself together or this wouldn't work at all; it was new, but we were living under the same roof and I had to stop acting like a... pervert. If I couldn't control this, it would twist me up and I couldn't even be someone he'd want near him. I had to move off the floor to let it dry and had no place to go.

I heard a yawn from the living room and my heart began to race. 'Will he talk to me?' I thought, feeling lame I was so desperate for that to be so.

"Are you finished with whatever you're doing to make them happy you stay home in your room everyday? I want to read to you, if you will come here."

He was sitting upright at the end of the sofa by the window, looking out like he could see all the way to the other life he'd left. He didn't turn his head to me when I came around the corner where I'd been hiding myself, and I was grateful for that. His profile had become distinct and I could see my brother clearly for the first time since... Since I knew how much I missed him. He had left before we got to know each other with any kind of intimacy.

"I... OK." I was dusty and could smell cleaning products on my body. There was too much gum in my mouth to cover the smoke smell.

I sat at the opposite end of the couch, almost holding onto it. He began to tell me about a "cool malevolent streak running through a landscape of decay." This history he read was unfamiliar and hard to follow, but it seemed to have something to do with his life in the city these past few years and his motivations for going far away in the first place. I didn't know the characters in the story or really relate to their goals, but I enjoyed his brand new voice. It was fresh the way something ripened to fruition is. It made me glad he wasn't just bored to be back but was still alive inside.

With a swift move to get comfortable, he swung his legs over his side of the sofa and inched his head and scapulae across my thighs. Lying on his back on top of me, he felt so heavy and solid it took me by surprise. I had been thinking of him as an apparition, but he was warm and his body felt good to me.

"You like to be read to, or did I forget?" His face was so close to mine. Not kissing close, but I'd spent the whole day trying to locate him. I found my missing brother, and on my lap.

"I like to have stories read to me, yes."

He settled in to read to me more and I didn't hear a word, but let myself enjoy soaking into the last pair of clean panties, with him shifting and stretching out more relaxed across me, reading to me...

He was interrupted by the annoying buzz of the dryer finishing.

"I should go get my clothes." I was surprised again to find I'd been unconsciously twisting his soft hair into little spikes.

"No, you stay and relax. You have been busy all day." I could tell by the playing tone in his voice that he was teasing me in a way I didn't quite grasp. When I protested he told me to "Stay," like he was talking to a pet dog. I sat there feeling apprehensive, wondering if it was wise to let him get so close to me. I certainly didn't like the thought of him touching my underwear, even if it was now clean.

He set the laundry basket on the coffee table and smiled at me. Our mother says he has a ladykilling smile and I think she's right. It's a persuasive smile, at least, because it's genuine. He picked up the heavy book and pointed to where he left off, telling me to read for a while and pushing it into my hands.

"I should really start to make myself useful around here," he said, beginning to fold my clothes and lay them on the cushion between us. The warm, comfortable feeling of him snuggled against me had left. I'm not used to reading aloud, but began to try my best to make it sound pleasant and keep the nervousness in my voice hidden. Between sentences I stole glances at him to see him serenely folding each piece of clothing while listening intently. If he thinks anything about black lacey bras, it doesn't show on his face.

"Well. How disappointing," he said dryly, regarding the small stack between us.

"What is?" I hoped he didn't mean my reading.

"No white cotton panties at all."

This makes me laugh and I loosen up a little. "Why would that disappoint you?"

"I just always pictured you wearing them. Don't worry, I'll buy you some soon."

I was confused at why he seemed to be flirting with his little sister, but I didn't want to spoil it. I felt happy for the attention, especially from him. My brother dropped the clothes into the basket carelessly and moved close to me, touching my hands as he lowered the book. I could tell we were done with reading for the evening.

He put his arms around me, pulling my thin shoulder into his chest. 'This is acceptable for a brother and sister,' I reassured myself as I melted into him, but then he kissed my cheek far too gently and left his smooth lips there lightly grazing my skin. The urge to turn my face to him welled up until I found myself touching my mouth to his and not hesitating to show him all my growing feelings for him, the fierce attraction that had taken hold of me as well as the affection and ache of missing him, wanting him even closer than at that moment. I embraced him, too, and his mouth opened to let his tongue be free to kiss me like we were now lovers.

It was the most fulfilling moment of my life, getting to have this experience. No one had ever kissed me with this kind of intensity. The communication of our mouths was unrestrained and spread throughout our bodies. My brother's hands wandered all over my back and outer thighs. He dug in with his fingertips and I loved how he could kiss so sweetly and be rough at the same time. I knew I would do anything in the world to make him happy.

When he slipped his hands under my shirt to stroke my stomach and sides, I couldn't keep from moaning into his deep kiss. He responded instantly to this as if it were a signal he could have any part of my body and pulled my bra down hard so that my tits rested high on the empty cups. He did it almost exactly the way I do when I masturbate, but with more force. I love the pressure it creates; my nipples stiffened up so fast it was pleasingly painful even before my brother pinched them with both hands.

I wondered how he knew I like to have my breasts manhandled, or if my enjoyment was maybe beside the point—with boyfriends I was always telling them to do it harder when we'd fool around, but they never seemed to get it. My brother knew just how to pull hard in varying directions and then crush my tits up and against each other. I felt them swelling in his hands, but maybe I was just delirious from the pleasure. I arched my back to offer myself up to anything he would do to me and bit his velvety neck. My brother whispered gently that I couldn't leave marks on places our parents could see. He didn't want to have to make up a story about who he was seeing.

I found it too difficult to ease up while he was lavishing my breasts in the rough treatment they had desired for so long, so I returned to his hot mouth even as our lips grew raw. Even my nose felt abraded by his slightly scruffy face. We'd been kissing for hours now, barely speaking any words because all we needed to communicate was to breathe each other's breath. I tried to feel ashamed of it because I thought I was supposed to, but we both wanted each other like this so much I couldn't make myself believe it was wrong.

He switched from pulling my nipples to pushing his palms into my flesh hard enough to lay me on my back and got on his elbows above me. The sweat in his hair made goose bumps contract on my chest; he was trailing down to take my breast into his mouth.

The feeling of my beautiful brother sucking my nipple marked without doubt the transition from fooling round (not that it was innocent) to depraved incest. I noticed this, but it still didn't matter to me. He removed my bra and traced sensitive fingertips over the red indents it had left.

"When are they coming back?" He asked me. His voice sounded parched and crackled a little.

"At eleven, Dad said. We should probably straighten ourselves up." The thought of either sitting acting normal when they got home or else retiring to separate bedrooms to masturbate filled me with disgust.

"Then we have a few minutes. It would be better to go to my room." It was obvious they couldn't walk into this scene.

Before getting up, my brother let himself collapse down on top of me for a moment. I felt a new part of him that was too hard to be what I hoped it was. I hadn't known the term 'hard on,' was so literal. 'That must hurt,' I thought to myself, but looked at his face and he didn't seem to be in any pain. Still, I wanted to soothe it with kisses. I didn't say so, just grinned in the dim light of the reading lamp. He knew what I was thinking, but that was alright because I didn't have to conceal thoughts like that anymore. All I had to do was not look so smug about it.

My brother took my hand and led me up dark stairs to his old room. I felt the fluid that he'd drawn from me trickle out when I stood up I thought of telling him about how while he was away I'd come in here and lie down on his bed. For a long time the bed retained the distinct scent of a healthy young male body and it attracted me. Once I even dared to slip my hand under my skirt and rub myself quickly to orgasm, every second afraid he'd impossibly appear and I'd be humiliated, but that only spurred me to cum deliciously and feeling dirty.

Being in his room created a new sense of wonder at what was happening between us. He was and was not my brother to me. I can't tell if the attraction to him is because of it or despite the fact we are blood relatives. I did recognize that everything felt unfamiliar, especially this instant intimacy with another person.

We took our time looking into each other's eyes. Knowing that time was not on our side that evening didn't make us rush things. There would be many other nights to be greedy for contact. I rested my hands at his hips and he approached me. He nudged my legs wider apart with his bare foot and I responded. It made me that much shorter than him. My brother's hand glided over the moist crotch of my jeans as I prayed it would; I had never been this aroused before even when most moved to get myself off and didn't know if I could stand anymore before I exploded. He took my full vulva in his palm as he had done with my tits, but much more gently. It was excruciating the way my labia had swelled to press so tight together; every step I took teased me. My brother stroked them with the side of his hand, his thumb, and his talented fingers until I tilted my hips forward to meet them. In a way, knowing we were out of time tonight made me less inhibited. I was still a virgin and wasn't ready for more than this release he offered me generously, clearly wanting me to cum.

He kissed me deep in my mouth as I swayed back and forth against his hand. My guts were melting into heated syrup pouring out and the first shudders originated in my thighs and spread to the muscles in my ass, up my spine until my teeth shivered and even my hair needed to be touched by him.

"You belong to me now... you always wanted this, to be my slave, so make me happy by showing me how pretty you cum for your brother—

"I think I'm in love with you."

"I know," you say and I asked you over and over to please, please fuck me until I woke up with the plea on my lips..

* * *

I've had these dreams every night since we got your letter stating that you were coming home for an indefinite stay. I don't shake them off anymore as really being metaphors for anything else. I want exactly what they show me and that's why they wake me up.

You are coming home today and I hope you will see me as not just your sister. Will you want me as I have realized I want you? If it's not like that it will be intolerable. My daydreams are even more perverse than what comes to me at night; I dream of you not just caressing me, but punishing me, abusing me in a way that sets my heart on fire. I don't only want you to love me as I know I will love you, but desire to make me a possession to satisfy all your dominant needs. If it seems you aren't inclined in that way, I'll still be happy to have my brother back, but inside I will be quietly destroyed.

I am scared to even hug you when you come home because I'm so sure we will be lovers. I can't let myself slip my tongue between your perfect lips until I know you want that, too. Only hours now before we are together.

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