Chapter 1: Just a Thought

We were watching Friends when Emily first brought it up.

“Wouldn’t it be hot if I had a brother?”

“ ... what?”

I tilted my head to the side, and glanced over at her. She had a sort of faraway look in her eyes.

“If I had a brother. Wouldn’t that be hot?”

“I have a brother,” I pointed out. “That’s not hot.”

“Yeah, but that’s ... I dunno, that’s real. I’m talking fantasy stuff. Like if I had a hot brother, and he was always lusting after us.”

“Us? Don’t drag me into this.”

“C’mon Izzy, you know what I mean. You like it when people look at us.”

It was true. I did, but not nearly as much as Emily. You don’t see many lesbians in the law profession, and the two of us ... stand out. We’re both blonde. I’m tall and busty, she’s short and cute, and when we dress to impress, it can turn a lot of heads.

“Maybe that’s enough Friends for today. I don’t want to catch you writing fanfiction about Ross and Monica.”

“Ew,” Emily laughed. “That’s not what I’m talking about at all. Not a real brother, just ... I dunno. There’s something hot about it. It was just a thought.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the show, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized ... she was sort of onto something.

I’m what they call a ‘gold star’ lesbian. Never been with a man - never even kissed one, actually. I figured out that I was a lesbian when I was young, dated women all through high-school, and then met Emily in my second year of law school - her third. Now I’m on my way to partnership, and she’s part of the in-house counsel for a major charity. (I won’t say which one, but you’ve definitely heard of it).

Unlike me, Emily is bi. I guess it made sense that she’d picked a brother. Being lusted at by a guy, I know that’s a turn-on for her.

But why did the idea appeal to me so much?

I guess because a ‘brother’ is just so much more likely to ogle us. Like, if it was a little sister (Emily didn’t actually say ‘little brother’, but I assumed that was what she meant) who wanted to see our tits ... she’d have her own. If she wanted to know how we got each other off ... look, it’s not much of a leap from masturbation.

But a brother. To guys, tits are basically magic. They don’t have ‘em, and without experience, they don’t know what they look or feel like.

How women get off? They’re just as likely to know how to break the speed of light.

So I had to admit: it would be hot if Emily had a brother, obsessively lusting after us. Trying to catch a peek at us kissing, listening at the door as we made love, staring wide-eyed as we held hands, or casually put an arm around the other’s waist ... I paused the TV show (which is something I never do) and jumped Emily, mentally picturing her fictional brother in the next room, jerking off at the idea of his sister making love to another girl...

The ‘brother’ returned a few nights later. We were watching Friends again, actually.

Emily, to my great surprise, had never seen the show before meeting me.

She’d revealed this during dinner with my family. Rookie mistake - my younger brother Justin had spent the rest of the night giving her shit about it, making references she didn’t understand, asking if she’d heard of these other rare shows, The Simpsons and Seinfeld.

After the fiftieth ‘why don’t you marry Ross’ joke flew straight over my girlfriend’s head, we’d all agreed that this oversight needed to be fixed. He’d given us the season 1 of Friends on a USB key. After we tore through it in a month, he gave us a copy of the next season as well.

We were up to season 3 (The One With the Tiny T-shirt) when Emily brought it up again.

“If I had a brother,” she said slowly, and my eyes lit up. More than a few times in the past week, I’d found my mind wandering to my girlfriend’s strange fantasy.

I leaned in, far too keen to hear what she’d come up with now.

“If I had a brother ... we could tease him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes glistening with mischief. “We could touch each other more, while he was in the room.”

“Mmmm...”

“Just casual stuff. I could stroke your arm, your leg. You could hold my neck.”

“Mmm-hmm...”

“Maybe I’d sit closer to you.”

“I like that...”

“I know you do.”

Emily opened her mouth, but before she could continue the hypothetical, her lips were met with my own.

Two minutes later, her beautiful mouth was between my thighs, as I vividly pictured the teasing we could partake in.

“What if,” I panted, pulling my lips from Emily’s for a second, “we ‘accidentally’ left the door open one day when we were making love?”

It had been two weeks. Every night, Emily and I would watch a few episodes of Friends, and then our conversation would inevitably drift to ‘her brother’, and what we could do to turn him on.

The sex was electric.

I’d never realized that I had a fetish. I liked tits, I guess, and lingerie ... but beyond that, I was a fairly vanilla kind of lesbian. I’d tried spanking a few times - it was fun, but it didn’t particularly do anything for me.

Emily moaned in response. I hadn’t even noticed my hand making its way between her legs.

“The sound of our lovemaking, carrying into the hallway. He can probably hear it from his room.”

“Yesss...”

“He sneaks into the hallway, planning on looking through the lock on our door.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Emily panted.

“That’s right. He’s got a clear view...”

“Oh!!”

As Emily climaxed around my fingers, I smiled down at her. It was so nice, finding a fantasy that we could both share.

It had never been an issue, but I’d always been aware of Emily’s bisexuality. I guess part of me had been worried that she missed cock, or that I could never truly fulfill her.

I’ve done enough reading to know that this is a common fear when a lesbian dates someone who’s bi, so I’d done what I could to put it out of my mind. But the frustration had always been there - the idea that I couldn’t understand. To me, guys were ... well, they were gross.

The entire gender had just never held any appeal.

But this ‘brother’ fantasy? Suddenly ... I got it.

Take a cock, for example. The idea of an erection typically left me cold ... but when it was attached to Emily’s hypothetical brother... god that turned me on. That imaginary cock, hard because of me, because of us. Because of who we were.

And even though I’d never before had even an inkling of attraction to a penis, just the thought of this imaginary penis was enough to get me completely soaked. Watching Emily’s ‘brother’ pump it, spying on us, stroking his hardness, cumming for us...

“Yessss,” I moaned, pulling Emily’s head between my legs. I’d already cum twice that night, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

Five nights later, it was Emily who took it to the next level.

“What if we let him watch.”

“Go on...” I said, not completely following. We’d gotten so turned on by whispering into each other’s ears, we hadn’t even turned the TV off. Ross was about to meet my girlfriend’s namesake - I’d been excited to show her that episode, but what we were now discussing felt so much more important.

“We sit him down, and we ... perform...”

Emily’s thumb was working magic on my clit, and I gasped as her words filled my ears.

“We tell him that this is for him ... it’s all for him. He could be right here, in the room right now, watching us as we...”

“Fuck.” My whole body pulsed as I came.

“You like that idea?”

“Mmmm.” I smiled. “What else could we show him?”

Emily had been away for almost seventy-two hours. In the past, that had never been a problem - her work flew her across the country four or five times a year.

But since we’d discovered our new, mutual fetish, we had barely gone twelve consecutive hours without getting each other off.

Emily was the love of my life, the best partner I’d ever had. But until now, I’d never needed her before.

She’d taken her laptop, and a copy of the fifth season of Friends. We’d continued our tradition of watching an episode together as we Skyped each night ... though we always stopped paying attention to the show after a few minutes.

“What if we gave him remote access,” Emily panted. “Remote access - oh! - to our screens.”

I love Emily, but she sometimes mixes boring computer jargon into our dirty talk.

“What do you mean?”

“He can see what we see...” she hissed. “He can - yes! - see our screens...”

“Mmmm,” I said, picturing it.

There was a silence, and I knew that it was my turn to contribute.