I was home from college for the summer, for the third year. My sister Cecilia was on her first. We both vaguely thought about getting summer jobs, but the first couple weeks melted away without much effort. We were smart kids, both on full scholarships, with stipends, so we were equally lazy about it.
We spent our days like sloths.
The main problem for me was my serious girlfriend, who summered with her family, a thousand miles away from me. We'd been together for two years, having discovered one another at the end of freshman year. And, well ... I was used to getting some action. A couple weeks of just jacking-off was getting old.
The problem was that I was always at home, and so was my sister. I'd always tried to be the good big brother. The strong arms and safe haven. The problem was that I'd always found my sister to be extremely attractive.
Even back when we were tiny kids, I was fascinated by her long golden hair. I loved to brush her hair, and she loved it just as much. A memory perhaps enhanced by a photo in the family album. Lia is maybe 5, making me 7. I'm grinning like a fool, gently brushing her hair. Her eyes are closed, her face like an angel in rapture.
But then we grew up and I didn't brush her hair anymore. As we grew, I kept thinking about her, about brushing her hair. And other stuff. The thoughts were there, but I'd always been good about reminding myself that brothers don't think about their sisters in that way. Even if I secretly did. I'd kept it so deeply buried that I'd almost forgotten about it. But not really. The thought, I'd learned the term in college, had merely been sublimated.
Cecilia was all about touchy-feely. All her life, she'd enjoyed giving hugs. Which was fine when I wasn't stuck at home physically pining for my girlfriend.
We were stuck at home by our own sheer inertia. It was ridiculous. Our parents had their work schedules, whereas we wound up in the kitchen around ten. I complained about having to wait for the toast to become toast, with my tongue obviously wedged in my cheek. Cecilia reached over and rubbed at my upper arm. "Don't worry, Danny--you'll be spreading butter before you know it." Just the touch stirred my loins. Like the quick jolt from an ungrounded socket.
I took a step back, and waited more patiently for the stupid toaster.
Thus it was. One day, we finished a leisurely late lunch, and then decided to make ourselves useful around the house. I mowed the lawn and did the edging while Lia weeded the flower beds. I liked looking at her bent over like that. I was glad I got done first, going off for a shower, and no, I did not jack-off. With all the suds, I certainly thought about it. But the inspiration just wasn't there. I'd start getting hard, but then like a neon sign the word pervert would start flickering in my head.
I was on the sofa flipping through magazines when Cecilia came in done. She was filthy from her gardening, coming inside promptly off to her own long shower. She paused long enough to give me the thumbs up. "You should have a look--we make a great team!"
I was standing up before I knew what I was doing. I tapped at her elbow in passing; she followed me into the kitchen. Cecilia joined me in looking out the sliding doors to the back. It looked professional. "Great job! We should go into the business. Except we're going to college so we can avoid the lawn-care profession altogether."
The more I looked, the more I had to say, "I just used a couple machines; your hands in the beds is what makes it all look awesome." We'd turned away from the glass to talk. Cecilia looked up at me beaming. I reached for one of her hands, lifting her limp arm.
She was wondering what I was doing, smiling along. I examined her filthy hand, and then dropped her arm. "You've earned your shower." I grabbed her by the shoulders, moving behind her, physically moving her body to point in the direction of the door to the hallway down to the bathroom. I gave her ass a little pat and said, "So get going."
Cecilia stayed still. "I need more of a jump-start than that."
I gave her butt a better smack, and that got her rolling. She glanced back at me long enough to stick out her tongue. She worked her hips, granting her ass some extra sway as she swung out of the room.
I stayed there in the kitchen, standing there like a retard on the corner waiting for the short bus. I was confused. And very erect. My sister had acted, and reacted as she did only in my odd fantasies. Lia didn't wriggle her very nice butt at me in real life. Eventually I calmed down and grabbed a fresh beverage from the fridge, returning to the sofa like nothing had happened. Because nothing had really happened. Sure, I'd patted my sister's ass, but we were just playing, so it didn't count.
She returned in clean shorts and shirt, with a towel wrapped around her hair. She looked like a super sexy Algerian. She came wielding her hairbrush
I was bored, I was horny, and I was feeling distracted. "Want me to brush your hair?"
I regretted the words as I was saying them. My sister had always loved getting her hair brushed, even as a little girl, when I was the one to do it.
Back in high school, there'd been a summer day when our parents were at work and she was fresh out of the shower, and then suddenly her boyfriend was over, sitting on the livingroom sofa behind her, brushing out her wet hair. Lia was cooing like an angel bird.
I was moving around the house getting ready to go do my chore. I had the lawn to mow, plus some pruning. I talked about doing that first, so I could just mulch the leavings with the mower. Her boyfriend replied, "That sounds like a plan."
So I walked back to the garage. I puttered around out there, getting the mower ready first. The mower was already broken in for the season, so that was easy. The clippers were laying around the garage all a little rusty. Dad kept like 3-in-1 oil and WD-40 in his basement workshop, but he was too cheap to spend for duplicates out in the garage.
I went back in the house to hit the basement. The house seemed quiet; a glance showed the livingroom empty. I was back up in the kitchen and ready to go with what I needed when I heard my sister cry out in sexual fulfillment.
Whereas I'd thought maybe they'd gone out for a walk. When instead they were in her bed, as she rewarded him for brushing her hair. I held back a bit, listening to the sound of them going at it.
I got hard, but then swept it away, going out for a couple loud hours of chores. Mowing the rows of lawn was sort of like brushing my sister's hair. Except, of course, for the lack of the happy ending.
Cecilia sort of cocked her head, thinking. "Yea," she declared with a nod, having decided, "that'd be great. Thanks!"
She unwrapped the towel around her head, and her long wet hair clomped down like rained on firewood. "Wait," she exclaimed, "this is gonna soak my shirt--lemme go make some changes." She bolted off to her room and spent some long minutes effecting her changes. Then she called me in.
I was expecting I'd get to brush her hair sitting on the livingroom sofa while she sat on the floor in front of me. Instead I was hailed into my sister's bedroom. She was seated on the foot of her bed, hairbrush in hand, like a magic wand, waiting for me. Her shirt was dropped to the floor; she still wore her shorts. Her hair hung down limp and wet and ready for a brush. She'd taken the towel and done that girl trick of knotting it between her breasts. The towel wrapped under her arms, leaving her shoulders bare.
"Get on the bed behind me," she urged, "sit back on your heels or something." I did just that, and then she handed back the brush. But immediately she wasn't comfortable. She made me scoot back further as she came to rest sitting Indian style on the end of the bed, her hands draped into her lap.
I noticed how we were facing her dresser, with its big tall mirror. When I caught up, I found Cecilia looking at me. "Hi-i-i!!" we both waved.
And then I began to brush her beautiful hair, breathing in her showery scents. I started getting hard, but I kept that a secret.
"Lia, let me know if I get too rough," I used her pet name. She beamed. "Danny, you're perfect."
"You've always had such beautiful hair," I continued brushing. Lia sort of shivered.
I came to a mean snarl, so I moved a hand up under her hair, past the towel, touching the softness of her upper back. The back of my hand lay firm against her shoulder blade, holding the hank of hair steady so I could brush out the snarl without tugging on her scalp.
Where our skin touched, it was like electricity was brewing, a constant static charge. I got the snarl out, and then just kept brushing my sister's hair, enough so it started getting dry, lightening from its damp dark to more of its straw color. I was just at that point where I figured I should stop or else my brushing might start seeming creepy, when Cecilia started roiling her bare shoulders, like the muscles might be a little tight, changing the conversation.
"Your shoulders stiff?" I whispered.
"I slept on something wrong last night, plus the gardening," she admitted, rolling again.
"I can take care of that. I think I'm done brushing anyway, so I'd have both my hands back."
.... There is more of this story ...