My Brother Reads Incest Porn. zOMG! He Writes It!

by aroslav

Copyright© 2015 to Elder Road Books

Incest Sex Story: I have a twin. We're as different as night and day. It was an accident that I discovered he was reading incest porn. It was kind of hot. I could imagine my boyfriend and me in those positions most of the time. It didn't have to be my brother. Then I found the real secret. He wasn't just reading incest porn. He was writing it!

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Brother   Sister   First   Slow   .

Woah! I sure didn't see that coming.

It's my own fault—sort of. I mean that I found out about it. I was minding my own business, mostly, and just needed our assignment for English Lit. I mean, he is so organized he actually keeps a calendar on his laptop with the assignments for each class written on it. I get up Sunday afternoon and go ask him what I have to do this week. And he tells me, the dork.

Yeah, we take the same subjects a lot of the time, but because we're twins we are usually in different sections. The assignments are all the same. But don't go getting all stereotypical on me just because we're twins. We don't read each other's minds. I'm not always there to protect him. I don't just 'know' when he is having a bad dream. Maybe identical twins are like that, but all boy-girl twins are fraternal. I mean, how can you have a boy be the identical twin of a girl, huh? Just tell me that. I don't think we were ever bathed together and we always had separate rooms. He's never seen me naked. At least he better never have!

He called me 'baby sister' once. I knocked him on his ass. Born fifteen minutes before me. Right. I told him that I shoved his fat ass out the chute so I'd have more woom inside. Wasn't that clever? I do that, like, all the time.

Anyway, I went to his room to get this week's assignments and he was gone. Like he didn't know I was going to need them.

"Mom! Where's Eric," I yelled coming downstairs.

"Am I your brother's keeper?" she asked. Yeah. I think I get my sense of humor from Mom. "He went tearing out the door like a madman about fifteen minutes ago. Why don't you text him?"

Well, duh! I went back to my room, but I looked into his room on the way by and his laptop was, like, right there and it was open. Well, it was sleeping and the screen was dark, but I might be able to get to his class calendar. I swiped my finger across the touchpad and the screen came to life. There was a log-in. Of course. How was I going to get onto his computer without a password? I just typed his name in. 'Incorrect password.' Yeah, yeah. But then I actually read the whole message and it actually had a link labeled 'hint.' I love that word. Not hint. Actually. I clicked the link.

'Baby Sister.' I don't have a baby sister. What kind of hint is that? Oh! It's me! I'm his ... That dork! I'm going to knock him on his ass again. I entered 'Hillary.' Incorrect password. What? Oh. I hated what I was going to enter next. When he's ticked at me, he calls me BroomHilda, like that witch in the Sunday comics. It worked. I'm really gonna knock him on his ass.

In case you missed the memo, my brother and I are not at all alike. I'm a good-looking, willowy blonde. He's a dark-haired dork. All right. To be fair, he's not ugly or anything. He's just not going to be on the cover of GQ or anything. Now if there's a magazine called IQ, he might make it. I'm not dumb. I just don't care that much about school and grades and stuff. I get by. He's like the second coming of Einstein or something.

So here I was, staring at his screen. He had a website open that was just a lot of text and I figured he was reading some science paper. I just glanced over it and then I started reading. It wasn't science. It was porn! And the scene was kind of hot. I mean, wow!-hot. I really shouldn't have been looking on his computer, so I didn't scroll the page or anything, but I wanted to read more. So I copied down the web address. Then I quickly switched to his calendar and copied down the assignments. I made sure the website he was reading on was in the foreground and hit the 'mommy button.' One of the first things we learned about when we got our new laptops before our senior year was that there is a quick keystroke that locks your computer instantly. Mom's a technical trainer for this company downtown and when she brought us the computers she made us sit down while she explained the proper operation, got our old stuff backed up to the new computers and set our passwords.

"Mom, we know all this stuff," Eric complained.

"Oh yeah? So you know about the Mommy Button?"

"The what?"

"Let's say you are in your room watching one of those porn videos you've been downloading when I happened to stop by to warn you that you're tying up the network again. You don't want me to see what you are watching, so you hit the Mommy Button." Then she showed us how to lock our computers with a keystroke.

That let us know a couple things. First, she knew what we did on our computers. It wasn't just Eric she was looking at. I've been known to download a movie now and then. Of course, I prefer those Japanese anime movies. They're classier and I don't need to see boys actually entering girls to get turned on. I like the humor. It also told us that she could probably open our computers anytime she wanted to. And finally, it taught us about the mommy button.

About eight o'clock, after we had our popcorn, Eric knocked on my door.

"Yeah! Come in." I was in pajamas and getting ready to investigate what he'd been reading, but I hadn't opened the site yet.

"Hey. I forgot to give you the assignments this week. You need them?"

"Oh. Thanks. I think I remembered them all. There wasn't anything for Schwartz, was there?" I said innocently.

"Nah. Just to study for the test on Friday. I'll go over it with you later in the week if you want."

"Okay. Sure. Thanks. Goodnight!"

"'Night." He was gone.

There have been times when Eric and I didn't get along at all. I spent too much time in the bathroom—according to him—or he blocked my car in with his putt-putt. But most of the time now we didn't see each other enough to get on our nerves. So we were cordial. I guess being seniors did that to us. We were really living in different worlds now. His was somewhere beyond the orbit of Pluto. Once he was gone to his own room, I closed and locked my door.

"Now let's find out if that story was as good as it looked," I mumbled. I opened the address and had to do some kind of registration to prove I wasn't a bot of some sort. I didn't worry about it because I had a special email account that I only used for crap like this. If I started getting bombarded with spam, I'd just cancel the account and open a new one. It's not like I actually got mail on that site. I finally managed to get to the story. As soon as I was there, I shoved my right hand in my pants to sort of get things warmed up so I'd be ready to go when I got to that hot scene I was reading on his computer. It looked like it was pretty near the end of the story, but I didn't really know how long the thing was.

Of course, it's written from the male point of view. Gah! Why don't some women write this stuff? She's teasing him. She's sexy. She wants it. He can't take it any longer. He pins her against a wall and she melts. If I was writing this stuff, he'd have to work at it if he wanted in my panties. I mean, he'd have to wine and dine me and convince me that he really loved me.

Still, the sex part was pretty hot. I could just imagine the boy licking me all over down there and finally hitting the magic spot that would send me over the edge. And then he kept going and I kept coming. Oh man! Why doesn't my boyfriend last this long? Oh! Then his finger slips inside and he finds the secret spot. It's such a secret I can't even find it, but I can imagine it just fine as my third orgasm hits. He got the next part right. I'm so juicy he could slide right in. And I get my fourth and final come of the night. I'm going to run to the bathroom in a minute so I can take a shower and clean things up. I'm just not into sleeping in a big puddle.

I read on to the end of the story as they are sweetly cuddling together. "How are we going to tell Mom and Dad?" he whispers. "I think we'll just tell them they are going to be grandparents," she sighs.

Wait a minute? Mom and Dad? They're brother and sister? I just read porn about a brother and sister? Eww! Yuck! What is this? My brother has been reading incest porn? And now I've read it? And had a big O while if frigged myself? I need that shower.


I guess I was a little quiet at breakfast. Mom asked if I was feeling okay.

"Just a little pre-occupied about the game tomorrow night," I said. That's another difference between my brother and me. I like sports. Soccer and Volleyball seasons overlap, but so far I've managed to make most of the games for both sports. Eric says he likes to walk. Like that's a sport. Well, at least he hasn't gotten fat. Most of the guys at school who don't play regular sports are overweight. Same for the girls. We've even got some tubby cheerleaders. I guess we've got decent genes. Mom's in good shape for an older person. Dad was in good shape when he was killed in Afghanistan. It's so long ago I can hardly remember him.

"What are you playing tomorrow?" Eric asked. "If it's volleyball I'll come to the game."

"Thanks. Uh ... yeah. Well, I've got to go. I told Sue I'd pick her up this morning." I dumped my dishes in the dishwasher so I didn't get yelled at and ran upstairs to get my bag. When I got to my car, I heard Eric putt-putting out of the driveway. We were each told that we could have the transportation of our choice for our eighteenth birthday. But ... We had to pay for anything over $5,000. I managed to get a ten-year-old Bug with a hundred thousand miles on it. My boyfriend, Brad, worked on the engine and got it running smooth. Eric bought a brand new Vespa. It's no wonder he never has a date.

When I got home from school, I went back to that story site. I looked at the author name of the story I'd read and then looked up his other stories. The author was called 'Sister's Favorite' and the stories were all coded 'Incest, Brother, Sister, mt/ft.' Oh frack! Maybe this was just a freak accident and he doesn't really normally read incest porn. I mean, it was a hot story. I would read more by that author. I'd just try to pretend they weren't brother and sister. In fact...

I'd just clicked on one at random and started reading. It had some of the same themes as the first story, but I loved the tension that was built up as the two danced around each other, both in love but forbidden to act on it. God! Why couldn't he write that about next door neighbors, or something? I came once before I even got to the sex part. It was the accidental towel slip and seeing his erection that did it. Bradley's erection always did it to me, too. I loved seeing how big and solid it was. It made me feel powerful because I could do this to him. And he's pretty easy to lead around by his dick, too. He'll do anything for me if I go down on him.

Speaking of which, I imagined his dick as I read about the girl in the story going down on her brother the first time. It would have been perfect like that. Her brother was rubbing her clit while she had his dick in her mouth. I wondered if I'd be able to keep from biting him as I came.

Oh. That was intense. I closed my eyes for a minute and just let the feeling of that last orgasm wash over me. My finger twitched a little as I saw the scene play out in front of me again with my boyfriend's dick in my mouth and my brother fingering my clit...

Shit! No! Fuck! My boyfriend fingering my clit. My boyfriend.

There was only one way to wash away that image and my fingers rubbed furiously as I read about how she mounted him and sank all the way onto him in one move.

I came.


You know how when you suspect something, you see the evidence everywhere? I could feel my brother watching me. Looking at me. I could hear a classic scene of two kids riding in the back seat of a car dividing the seat between them. "You're on my side." "Stop touching me." "I'm not touching you." "Mom, he's looking at me."

Only I was sure my brother was looking at me. He had to be thinking those same thoughts about fucking his sister. How could he think that?

I had to have a plan. I had to get him to stop thinking of me that way. We were never that close like I could just walk up to him and tell him to stop thinking of me sexually. Or that I could ask him about the stories.

I flubbed my first serve during the game that night because as soon as I tossed the ball and started to stretch up to hit it, I thought, He's looking at my tits!


I was a wreck. I was getting nervous, just knowing that he was reading those stories about sex between a brother and sister. And now I was reading them, too. They were addictive. I even found stories about twins. In just about all of them, the brother had always longed for his sister and she was beyond his reach until all of a sudden she approaches him and reveals that she's always been in love with him. Then they have scorching hot sex and she gets pregnant and they live happily ever after with their parents' blessing. As if that would ever happen! Our mother would kill us first and ask questions later. She'd always been the one that enforced strict boundaries, separate rooms, even separate bathrooms by the time we were teens. Our clothes were appropriate at all times. Not like we were freaks or anything. I had sexy clothes, but they weren't slutty and we never ran around the house in our underwear.

Then I saw that story. It was the one that scared me. And somehow made my heart race.

My beautiful twin sister's boyfriend is dumb as a box of rocks. I suppose he must be a great lay because he sure doesn't have anything in his head. And he's always hitting me up to get him out of a jam with her. Like he went out to help her buy a car. He agreed that this old Bug was a great buy. He told her he could rebuild the engine in a couple days and it would run like a charm. She bought it and he took it home. Then he called me and begged me to come and rebuild the engine so he didn't have to pay the local garage. The dummy didn't even know the engine was in the back! Of course, I did it. She's my sister and I'd do anything for her. Including helping her stupid boyfriend impress her.

It couldn't be. He described my car right down to the tear in the passenger seat cover. He described Bradley perfectly. I knew Bradley wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he was nice and he treated me well and yeah ... he was a great lay. And then the story went on and when she discovers it was her brother who had been fixing her car and getting her out of jams, she swoons over him and they make love. He discovers she's really a virgin and he licks her to three orgasms before he takes her cherry and she has three more orgasms before he fills her with his incestuous seed and she gets pregnant. They confess their love for each other and live happily ever after.

I came three times.

I had a plan. I had to be sure. I called Bradley and asked if he could change my oil this weekend. This would prove that my boyfriend at least wasn't using my brother to impress me. He said sure and Saturday morning he came over to pick up my car and take it to 'his garage.' My brother left on his putt-putt about twenty minutes later. Oh no!

It's a fifteen minute walk over to Bradley's house. When I got there, I saw Eric's putt-putt and could see his feet sticking out from under my car. I stayed across the street and edged away. I was like a zombie walking home.

zOMG! My brother not only reads incest porn, he writes it! What am I going to do?


I kissed Bradley when he brought my car back and thanked him. "I just started my period and I'm too moody to go out tonight," I told him.

"That's okay. I understand," he said. I doubted it. But he was nice.

As soon as he left, I ran to my brother's room and turned on his laptop. I had the password now, so it didn't take long before I was searching through every folder on his computer. Bingo! All I had to do was read the names of the files to know that I'd found the entire cache of stories he'd posted online and a whole bunch that weren't there. There were dozens—maybe hundreds—of stories in that folder. "Helping My Sister," "My Sister's Little Problem," "Sleepwalking with Sister," "It Happened One Night." I closed the folder, restored his desktop to the condition I found it and locked the computer.

I had to confront my brother. I couldn't keep living like this.

First, I went on line and started reading every story under his penname, "Sister's Favorite." I might have rubbed my clit raw, too, but it was all in the interest of being well-informed. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I saw it in every story. Little things that had happened at home or school, things we said in conversation, family circumstances, even a description or two of the way I brushed my hair.

I was devastated. It was like being Roxanne and discovering that Cyrano was her real admirer. How could my brother write this stuff about me?

I was up all night and never went to bed Sunday morning. By the time I made my usual trip to his room on Sunday afternoon to get our assignments, I hadn't slept in forty-some hours. I hadn't had a shower and I stunk. If the stories about him stealing my underwear were based on reality, he already knew what my sex smelled like.

"Hey, Hil," he said without looking up from his computer. "Better get started on that English Lit paper we have due on Friday. She wants real research and references. You know how much time that takes. Physics will be a breeze. It's about wave interference and we did those experiments last week. Government is just..."

"Eric, stop. Look at me." My brother jerked his head around.

"My God! You look like hell! What's wrong?" His concern was touching.

"Thanks a lot. Eric, this has got to stop."

"Giving you your assignments? I don't mind. I've got them all written down and it's silly not to share them."

"You've got to stop writing stories about having sex with me."

His mouth just fell open. I'll give him credit for not trying to deny anything. His mouth moved a few times and he pushed away from his desk. He stepped around to the other side of his bed to put it between us—like he was scared of me. He just stared at me and I saw a tear run down his cheek. Oh fuck! My brother was crying.

"You were never supposed to know," he mumbled.

"Whatever possessed you to think that I'd have sex with you?" I demanded.

"I didn't. I know you never would. It's all ruined now."

"What do you mean? How long have you been writing these stories? There's dozens of them."

"Hundreds. I started about six years ago. Oh there were a few before that, but I really started then."

"You were writing about us having sex when we were twelve?" I couldn't believe it. He shook his head.

"No. The early stories were just about us playing together and being friends and doing pretend stuff. We didn't start having sex until ... I mean I didn't write about sex until we were fifteen. Then I just couldn't help it. I tried to disguise it so no one would be able to tell it was me or you. I just ... love you."

My brother just told me he loved me. And I don't think he meant in a nice brotherly way. I was running on shear willpower at the moment and not all my thoughts were coming out straight.

"When did you have time to write all this? You pretty much get straight A's in school. I know you study and you read all the assignments. How do you have time to write all these stories?" I asked.

"I don't sleep at night."

"Huh?"

"I've never really needed more than a couple hours of sleep a night. Sometimes I take a fifteen minute nap after school. Spending an extra six hours awake when no one else is—or in your case eight or ten hours—was driving me crazy, so I started writing. My first stories were about you being Sleeping Beauty." That was so sweet. Stop it! I had to get my head back in the game. I should have slept last night.

"But you know I'd never do any of this, right?"

"You mean you aren't going to throw yourself at me and kiss me?" He grinned but tears were still running out of his eyes. "I know. I never thought you would. I just thought I could have this private little fantasy world where I could live happily ever after."

"I didn't know how unhappy you were."

"I'm not unhappy. Well, maybe now I am. I was really happy. I never let it cross over into the real world. Now ... Now it's all gone."

"You haven't even apologized," I said. I wanted to ignore his pain and focus on mine. Selfish bitch.

"For what? I didn't invade your privacy. Search your computer. I never peeked at you or tried to see down your blouse. I never touched you inappropriately. I never made rude comments to you. Exactly what am I supposed to apologize for?"

"For..." Shit. I really had no place to talk, did I? "For hiding on the other side of your bed instead of being over here where I can hug you and say I'm sorry."

He came around the bed and I hugged him a little awkwardly. We weren't all that demonstrative a family and I didn't really want to push my breasts into him or feel his erection, did I?

"I'm sorry I invaded your privacy," I said. "It was an accident at first. Then I kind of got obsessed. Then when I realized you weren't just reading incest porn but you were writing it, I sort of got freaked out."

"Which one?"

"The one about rebuilding the engine in my car."

"So you went to Bradley's house yesterday while I changed your oil."

"Yeah. I was pretty freaked out. Then I came back and read all the stories I could in the past twenty-four hours. God! You write a lot. I started seeing us in all of them."

"Hil, you know I'd never do anything to you, don't you? I love you and I'd never do anything to make you unhappy. Not intentionally, I mean. Please don't ... Don't stop being my sister."

"How the hell could I stop being your sister?" I shoved him back so he sat on the bed and I sat beside him. "It just shocked me that you thought about me like that."

"You never thought of me like that?"

"No! Well, not until I started reading your stories. Then I kept substituting Bradley for you except that every once in a while your face would be on his shoulders or I started wondering if you were looking at me right then. And..." I cut off what I was going to say. He laughed at me.

"You masturbated, didn't you!" I looked at him and he was enjoying himself so much that I laughed, too.

"I rubbed myself raw," I confessed. "I mean, look. You are really a good writer and the sex was really hot. The first one I read I didn't even realize they were brother and sister until the end. Then I was so shocked I ran to bed and hid under the covers."

"Well, I'm glad you got some enjoyment out of it."

"You got a bunch of stuff wrong, though," I said. Why did I tell him that?

"Like what?"

"Well, to start with, I'm not a virgin." I'd never had this personal a discussion with my brother and never intended to, but I guess I was a little punchy with lack of sleep and all the emotion that was being tossed around. I guessed there was nothing wrong with correcting a few of his misconceptions.

"I kind of figured that. It's not like Bradley is the most circumspect guy you could have chosen, you know."

"Don't tell me he talks."

"No more than any of the other guys."

"You always make a point of that in your stories," I said. "The brother never kisses and tells. So to speak." He didn't answer. "Speaking of kissing," I plunged on, "I would never in a million years let any boy plunge his cock into me before we kissed. You have a lot of boys coming up behind their sisters and just sliding in. Look, if you can't face me and put your lips on mine, there is no way I'll be wet enough for you to just slip it in, no matter how turned on you thought I was."

"Kissing really turns you on?"

"More than anything else."

"I guess ... Well, I just didn't know about kissing."

"What? You've been on dates. Don't tell me you've never kissed a girl." He hung his head. He was ashamed of having never... "Oh no! You're still a virgin, too, aren't you?" He nodded.

What was I going to do now? I knew he'd been out on dates with several girls, but to never have gotten to first base? No wonder my girlfriends all raved about what a perfect guy he was and then went out with someone else.

"You know it's not going to be like anything you've read or written?" I really should have been more awake when I had this conversation. He was starting to make sense to me.

"What's not?"

"Kissing me. You're not just going to attack my lips and thrust your tongue down my throat. And if you grab my boobs on the first kiss, you'll be sorry you ever wrote word one."

"You mean... ??

"Just keep your tongue in your mouth. Okay?" He nodded. I leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. I didn't rush it. I wanted him to remember his first kiss. It did nothing for me, but I could hear his breathing speed up. I broke it off.

"Wow!" he whispered. "Was it okay?"

"It was like kissing my brother."

"Oh yuck! I wouldn't kiss him. He's all big and hairy." We had a half-brother from Dad's first marriage who was ten years older than us. He had lived with his mother and we rarely saw him. I wasn't sad about that.

"Not that brother, idiot! I mean..."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Kissing me didn't make your nipples hard. Didn't make your clit tingle. Didn't make your panties wet. You might as well have kissed your reflection in a mirror."

"Don't embarrass me, Eric." I could feel my face getting red. Maybe my own breathing speeded up a little. I recognized those words from one of his stories and a few paragraphs later they were fucking. "It's just that I wanted you to know what kissing your sister would be like. It's not, like, about sex. It's just your sister. You could probably kiss me like that anytime and it would be okay."

"Oh. Then I guess I can't really count that as my first real kiss." His shoulders slumped.

"A lot goes into a first real kiss," I sighed. "You remember Donny Maple?"

"The guy you went out with when we were freshmen?"

"Yeah. We kind of went out for most of the year, you know? He asked me to the first basketball game of the season and mostly we just went to games together. It took four months for him to get to first base. And it wasn't for lack of trying. I think he tried to kiss me every time we went out."

"You finally gave in?"

"Not exactly. He wasn't even trying when I kissed him. I think he'd given up. It was just before Easter and we went to that play at his church. It was a little creepy, but there was some good music. The ending was really happy and I was in a good mood when his parents brought me home. I stopped at the front door and all of a sudden his lips were just there and they were moist and ready and I kissed him. Then his parents honked and he backed off the porch. He practically fell down the stairs."

I looked at Eric. I could see what he was thinking. I shouldn't have tormented him with the story of my first kiss when he'd never had a first kiss. The brother-sister kiss I just gave him really didn't count. I supposed I could get one of my girlfriends to kiss him, but he was right there and I just leaned toward him.

"Don't move," I whispered. He froze. "Your lips need to be moist but not dripping. Let me." I came toward his mouth and just before we touched, I licked his lips with the tip of my tongue. I caught his breath. "Now soft lips, Eric. Don't get aggressive." I put my lips on his and kissed him as sweetly as I knew how. I was just going to give him a little kiss and then pull away, but I steeled myself and decided to make sure his first kiss was as memorable as mine had been. I put my arms around him and put everything I had into the kiss. I felt his arms around me and I sort of pretended that it was Bradley. As soon as I thought that, I reached out with my tongue and found his waiting there for me. Honest, I was going to pull away, but it was kind of nice and he was really gentle and I sort of lost track of who I was kissing. If I didn't think about him being my brother, he was a really good and sexy kisser.

"I love you, Hillary."

"Shh. Don't ever say that to a girl right after your first kiss," I said. I laid my head against his shoulder. "She'll think it's just getting turned on that you love. I mean, I know it's not that with you because you've already told me you love me in spite of me discouraging you. But it's better not to say anything and just enjoy the glow." I realized that my breathing was a little rapid and I tried to take a deeper breath but I could feel our hearts beating against each other. I don't know what came over me. I raised my lips and found his waiting for me. He didn't get aggressive with me—no grabbing at me or anything—and we just kissed slowly and leisurely, exploring each other with our tongues. I was almost asleep in his arms and dreaming of Prince Charming trying to wake Sleeping Beauty with a kiss. Oh, shit!

I pulled away from my brother and looked into his eyes. Mine are blue. His are brown. How different can twins be? I pushed away and staggered to my feet.

"I'm dead. I've got to go take a nap and stuff," I said, staggering for the door. I stopped and turned to look at him still sitting on the bed with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Eric, all those things you said didn't happen to me the first time? Um ... They did that time." I turned and fled to the sanctity of my own bedroom.


I fell asleep with my finger still on my clit. I guess it wasn't too raw to rub out another one or two. I woke up still thinking about it.

WTF? Was that all it took? One kiss ... All right, two kisses ... Really nice kisses, and I'm actually thinking about having sex with my brother? Cannot be! Still, I couldn't deny the reaction I'd had. Yes, my nipples got erect. Yes, my clit tingled. Yes, my panties were soaked. Damn it! I got turned on! I was going to have to nip this in the bud, so to speak. Before he got a chance to nip my bud. I giggled. Sleep deprivation. I'd just do my homework and then get one of those ten-hour nights in. I forced myself to concentrate.

I was pretty proud of how much I got done. I went downstairs when I smelled popcorn popping. That was our whole family's dinner on Sunday night. Popcorn and milk. As usual, I took my bowl and glass to my room after I said goodnight to Mom and Eric. I couldn't actually look at him. I didn't think he was actually looking at me either. Not actually. Maybe from the corner of his eye.

I finished my Government assignment and decided that before I went to sleep I'd just look to see what else was on that story site beside my brother's fantasies about me. On the front page there was a new story by 'Sister's Favorite.' Damn it, Eric! Didn't I tell you to stop? Of course, in all the time we spent together this afternoon he never said he wouldn't write anymore. But he'd said it was all ruined now and that now it was all gone. I clicked on the story and started to read.

And cry.

Factually, it was an exact telling of what happened this afternoon when I confronted him. He must have an incredible memory because I couldn't find anything wrong in his recitation of the facts. It wasn't that, though. Reciting the facts if you took everything else out made for a pretty dull story. It was telling about what he was thinking and feeling at the time that made his story so real—so visceral. It was like being let inside his head.

She told me never to tell a girl I loved her right after our first kiss. But how could I not tell her? The feelings weren't new for me. I'd lived with them for years. I could give you a thousand reasons that I loved her. Kissing her for the first time was only one. I loved her for never being judgmental about me. Even when she confronted me about the stories I write, she didn't tell me I was sick or twisted. She didn't tell me I was a bad person. She might not love me like I love her, but if I am ever loved by someone, that someone will treat me like my sister does.

And he ended the story without sex!

My fantasy is over. My sister—the real girl that I've loved for so long—kissed me. She might never kiss me again, but that one will linger on my lips forever.

I rated the story a ten and went to bed. I didn't masturbate. I cried myself to sleep.


School was school. We were in the home stretch. Prom night was coming up and we'd graduate four weeks later. Of course, Bradley was taking me to the prom. I was determined to get my brother a date, too. He couldn't keep living the fantasy of loving me. Neither could I. That was stupid. Nearly everyone I thought of already had a date. And those that didn't, I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

I hadn't seen a new story by him in over a week, but I kept going back to his list of stories and reading the ones I hadn't read yet. One or two I re-read. I realized I was masturbating to my brother's image instead of Bradley's. I really had to get a grip.

I'd failed entirely to come up with a girl who was suitable for my brother to take to the prom. I guess that's when fate intervened. Two days before the prom, Bradley missed school. I called to find out what was up. His mom told me Bradley was sick. Sick as in the hospital sick. I rushed there after school to see what the heck was going on.

He'd complained occasionally about having stomach aches and cramping, but when it really hit him Wednesday night, it was gut-wrenching. He had a fever and blood in his stool. The diarrhea was non-stop. They ruled out food poisoning on the phone with the doctor. His parents were so freaked out they actually called an ambulance instead of driving him to the hospital. They thought it could be an intestinal parasite. The doctor's had been trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He looked miserable.

"Oh, baby," I said as I kissed him on the forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Hil, that was dumb enough to be something I'd say. I'm in the hospital and wearing a diaper because I can't always make it to the bathroom in time. I'm on some kind of sedative to keep my gut from cramping. I've never felt so miserable in my life," he said. I petted his head and held his hand.

"Do they know what's wrong?"

"They ran an MRI with stuff I had to drink all morning. The doctor thinks it might be some chronic disease instead of a bug. Hil, I'm not going to make it to prom Saturday night. I'm sorry. Even if I get out of here by then, chances are that I'll still be wearing a diaper. Not cool."

Well, that sucked. I mean, I really looked forward to going to my senior prom. But it sucked that Bradley wouldn't be able to go. I had a really big night planned for him. I just petted him and told him it was okay.

"Hil, you should still go. It's important to you."

"It's a little late to get a date for prom," I laughed. "I'm not the kind of girl who would just go to one of those things alone."

"Um ... I know it's not the same, but maybe you could at least get Eric to take you. I know how hard you tried to find a date for him. Maybe the two of you could come up to see me before you go to the dance so I can give you your flower. He can wear my tux. We're not that different in size," Bradley said. I looked at him and thought about the engine-rebuild and oil change for my car.

"How often do you have my brother help you out?" I asked. Bradley turned away from me. His answer was so quiet I could hardly hear him.

"A lot. If he hadn't helped me, I'd never have had the courage to ask you out in the first place. He ... gave me a lot of pointers."

"And rebuilt my car engine and changed my oil," I sighed.

"And picked out the right flower to go with your dress. And vetoed my idea to wear a white tux. Not to mention helping me through Physics and with Algebra. Your brother is a great guy, Hil. There's really nobody else I'd trust with you," he said.

Could he trust me with my brother?


"This doesn't really mean anything," I explained. "Just that I've got all this stuff prepared already—you know, like my dress and my hair appointment, and everything. It won't cost you anything because Bradley has already paid for the tux and the flower. We'll take my car so we don't have to worry about a limo. So what I'm saying is will you please take me to the prom?"

"No."

I was stunned. He always helped Bradley out. I knew he wanted to be with me and kiss me again. This way he'd get a whole night of dancing with me and, yeah, I'd kiss him again. I kind of liked the idea myself.

"Why? I thought..."

"I won't take you to the prom if it doesn't really mean anything, Hillary. I couldn't," he explained. He spoke so softly that I had to lean in toward him to hear what he was saying. "It would mean something to me. I couldn't stand it if it didn't mean something to you, too."

I sank down on his bed. He swiveled in his chair to face me. I thought about what he said. I really tried to find him a date for the prom and was sad that I failed. But the truth was that I rejected several possibilities because I didn't feel they measured up. The truth was that when I thought about them with my brother, I got jealous.

"Eric, I don't know if I can do this. I don't want to lie to you and make it sound like I'm suddenly in love with you. You'd know I was lying. I didn't realize how well you knew me until I started talking to Bradley about all the help you've given him. Why did you do that, Eric? Why did you tell him what I'd like to do on our first date? Why did you fix my car for him? Why did you tell him what my favorite chocolates were on Valentine's Day? How did he know to get me a Cymbidium Orchid for my prom corsage? Why did you tell him what to say to me the day after we made love the first time? You did all that, Eric. Why?"

"Because I want you to be happy. That's all, Hillary. I didn't do it for any ulterior motive. I didn't do it so you'd owe me. Like the stories, I never thought you'd find out. I just want you to be happy."

"And you never thought about a reward or winning my love?" I asked. He shook his head. "Then, my dear brother, will you please take me to the prom, just because you want me happy—without expecting any reward or winning my love? Will you do it for me just because I'm your sister and I asked you?"

He sighed. I could tell he wanted to say no, but he didn't. He just nodded. I got up and went over to him. He was still looking at the floor. I lifted his chin so he looked up at me and then I kissed him. It wasn't the overpowering romantic kiss we'd shared a couple weeks ago. It was just a gentle kiss.

"Thank you," I said.

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