Meagan and Matt

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I give my brother my virginity.
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I fell in love with my brother when I was in the eighth grade. I've always loved Matt, but when I was thirteen, I fell IN love with him.

At the time when I reached puberty, and my hormones kicked in, and all the other girls my age were going goo-goo over boys in our class, all my dreams and fantasies revolved around my brother, who is two years older than I am.

I had just started my senior year in high school, when on September 11, 2001, the World Trade Center was hit by two airliners. Matt felt he had to join up, to stand up for his country.

I was terrified when he joined the Army, because our father was killed in 1990 in Operation Desert Storm in Iraq. "Don't worry, Beanie, I'll be fine," he said, as I saw Matt off on the plane to Afghanistan, to participate in Operation Enduring Freedom.

"Beanie" was the nickname my father had hung on me, and I hated it. It was short for beanpole, because I was tall and skinny. I stood 5'7" in the sixth grade, and towered over all the boys in my class. Fortunately, I never grew any taller, but I was still skinny as a rail. My name is Meagan.

I was eight years old when our father died, and Matt was ten. Our mother was shattered and, unfortunately, she started to drink. Her drinking got worse, and by the time he was twelve, Matt took over the household responsibilities. He made sure we had food in the house, packed my lunches for school, and made sure I had clean clothes to wear.

I learned how to cook and do the laundry, so we were pretty much on our own. It fell on us to take care of our mother.

Matt and I always got along with each other. We never fought like some siblings do, and he never excluded me from anything he was doing when we were growing up. I was never treated like the "tag-a-long" kid sister.

I was the perennial late bloomer. When all the other girls in my class were growing boobs, and flaunting them, I was flat as a board. My hips looked like a boy's, and I had no ass at all.

I wore a tee shirt until I was fourteen, and then I wore a padded training bra, even though I didn't have anything to put in it.

My period did happen at the proper time, so there wasn't anything biologically wrong with me. I was mortified the first time I asked Matt to buy tampons for me, and he was probably just as embarrassed to ask for them at the store. After that, he always made sure I had some "personal" money.

Sex was never a subject that was discussed between us. Most of whatever I learned came from other girls at school. As skinny and titless as I was, I didn't have any first-hand experience. A lot of kids at school made fun of me, and the boys all went after the girls with big boobs, so I never even went out on a date.

As my social life was non-existent, I made up for it by studying real hard. I was known as a "brainiac," a geek, a nerd. My only friend, besides Matt, was Karen Wenner, another nerdy type.

The difference between Karen and me was that she had really big boobs. And she'd let anyone play with them that wanted to. She was also the queen of blowjobs. She had stringy hair and a bad complexion, but half the guys in school had their first experience with her.

They never went out with her twice, but she didn't care, she made it up in quantity. She could tell you who had a monster cock, who had a teeny weenie, and how long each of them could last before they came.

The only physical contact we had with each other was when he would brush my hair, or I would give him a back rub after he'd put in a hard day's work. I had really long blonde hair and he liked to brush it and run his fingers through it. It felt wonderful. I did kiss him goodnight before going to bed, but it was just a sisterly peck on the lips.

I had blonde hair, and his was dark, almost black. Our Dad used to kid us that we must have come from different families. Matt was so handsome. He looked like Orlando Bloom, who was a major crush for a lot of the girls in my school.

He worked in a tire shop, changing big truck tires all day, and he'd come home exhausted. He would take off his shirt and lie face down on the floor, and I would straddle him and rub his back, digging my thumbs into his sore trapezius and deltoid muscles.

"You have wonderful hands, Beanie," he'd say between pleasure groans.

Matt had girlfriends, but they never lasted too long. I was really jealous and I hated them all.

The year before he joined the Army, our mother died of cirrhosis of the liver, so we were on our own. We had taken care of each other for more than five years, so there wasn't much change in our daily lives. We were sad, but kind of relieved at the same time, because she was so sick for so long. She just wasted her life away with booze.

The morning before he left, Matt brought in this big box with a red ribbon on it, and set it on the foot of my bed. The box had holes punched in it. When I opened it up, there was this beautiful little golden retriever puppy inside.

"Here's something to keep you company while I'm gone."

"Oh, Matt, she's beautiful. I'm going to call her Maggie."

I picked her up and held her to my breast. She was so soft and fuzzy. Her tail was wagging about a hundred miles an hour, and she covered my face with puppy kisses.

The day he left, I was a total mess. I put my arms around him and held him tight, and I couldn't stoop sobbing. He was leaving a huge hole in my life, and a hole in my heart. I knew he had to go, but I was still terrified.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Matt."

"I'll miss you too, Beanie." He took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears off my cheeks.

"I'll write you every day."

He turned and walked to the car that was taking him to the Army base. He waved to me out the window, and I watched until the car was completely out of sight. I scooped Maggie up and lay down on my bed and cuddled with her. I was still crying, and she licked my tears away.

I kept my promise and wrote a letter to Matt every day, telling him about school, everything I was doing, and about Maggie. He didn't write nearly as often, but I treasured each letter I got from him.

During my senior year, after I turned eighteen, strange things began happening to my body; I was actually starting to fill out! My breasts started to look like little cones, and I took the padding out of my bra.

My hips rounded out, my legs started to look shapely, and there was actual flesh on my butt cheeks. Before too long, I graduated to a B cup. I would dance around in front of the mirror and check them out. I could actually hold them in my hands. Wow, real boobs!

They stopped growing when I got to a C cup, which was just perfect for me. If I had gone to a tit store and picked some out, these are exactly what I would have chosen. I have fair skin, so my quarter-sized areolas are a pale pink, and my pink nipples stick way out.

My breasts are round and firm, and sit high on my chest with no sag at all. They have a curvy uplift that looks really cool when I turn sideways in the mirror. They have a nice jiggle when I walk. I wished Matt had been here to watch me grow, but he would really be surprised when he got home.

I treated myself to some really sexy underwear. Lots of satin and lace, and some bras that give me lots of cleavage. I also got some foxy night wear, a teddy and a chemise that are so sheer you can see right through them. I hoped I'd have the courage to wear them in front of Matt.

I quit signing my letters, "Love, Beanie," and started signing them, "Love, Meagan." I was a beanpole no more. I loved my new body!

All of a sudden guys started noticing me; I wasn't an invisible person any more. I started hearing remarks like "nice ass" or "great rack." I really filled up my jeans, and my boobs looked great in a tee shirt.

I went out on a few dates with different guys and had a pretty good time. I really didn't know how to make out, because I'd never seriously kissed anyone before, but I got the hang of it pretty quick.

I let a couple guys feel me up through my clothes, but when they went for bare skin, I pushed their hands away. I heard insults like "cock tease" and I was called "frigid," but fuck them, I was saving myself for Matt.

A year went by since Matt left. I graduated from high school, turned nineteen, and Maggie was almost full grown. She was a beautiful dog, and she went everywhere with me. She slept on my bed, and I wasn't quite as lonely.

I also broke my hymen. Summoning up all my courage, I went to a sex shop. I was totally embarrassed when I walked in the door, and prayed that nobody I knew would see me there. I had pictured some really sleazy man would be behind the counter, but there was a really attractive woman working there.

She asked if she could help me. "I-I'm looking for a, ah, um...." I stuttered, not being able to get the word out.

"A vibrator, perhaps?" she asked, smiling at me.

"Yes, one of those."

She showed me shelf after shelf of different vibrators. They came in all kinds of sizes, shapes, and colors, from little ones that go in your asshole, to a monster black thing that looked like it would be for a horse.

I finally chose one that the clerk said was the most life-like. I had never seen a real penis before, so I took her word for it. It was pink, and it had a distinct head on it. The saleswoman said that it felt just like a real cock. It felt soft, yet rigid, covered with a material called cyberskin. She told me how to use it to excite my G-spot. I didn't know what a G-spot was, but I would find out!

I lay down on my bed, pulled my knees up, and spread my legs wide apart. I lubed up the dildo, turned on the vibrator, and started running it all around my pussy. It felt really good on my clit, much better than my fingers.

Guiding it between my swollen inner lips, I took a deep breath and shoved it in. OWW! It hurt like hell for a minute, then the pain went away. I began to move it in and out, fantasizing it was Matt's cock inside me. The longer I did it, the better it felt, and I soon experienced my first vaginal orgasm. Now I had something else to look forward to. I found that G-spot too!

I hadn't gotten a letter from Matt in weeks, and I was really starting to get worried. He was stationed way out in the desert, and there was no way to communicate with him. As the days went by, I was getting more and more frantic.

One morning, Maggie started barking and running back and forth to the front door. I opened the door, and there were two military officers in dress uniforms coming up my sidewalk.

"OH GOD NO! MATT!" I screamed. My heart dropped to my feet. Matt can't be dead. He can't be dead. I started to faint, and one of the officers caught me before I hit the ground. They brought me in the house and sat me down in a chair.

Matt wasn't dead. He had been wounded when a roadside bomb had gone off under his Humvee. His best buddy, sitting next to him, had been blown to pieces, but his body shielded Matt from the worst of the blast.

He had a broken arm, a concussion, and his body was riddled with shrapnel. He was in a hospital in Germany, where he had undergone several surgeries to take the metal out of him. If all went well, he would be sent home in about two months.

I started marking days off on the calendar. I had done a lot of work on the house since he'd been gone; fresh paint on the walls, new curtains, new carpeting, and some nice prints hanging on the walls. There was a new leather recliner for him, and new upholstery and cushions on the couch. The whole place looked bright and cheerful. I hoped he would like it.

Finally, the day arrived. I had no idea what time he was coming home; he was getting a ride from the base he was discharged from. I was a nervous wreck, so I kept myself busy in the kitchen. I baked lasagna and a chocolate cake, both of which are his favorites.

Maggie let out one of "somebody's here" barks. I threw open the door, and there he was!

"Matt, oh Matt," I cried, and ran straight into his arms.

Tears were streaming down my face. He held me tight, and I could tell he felt something different. There were breasts pressing into his chest that I didn't have when he last saw me. He pulled away and looked me up and down. "My God, Beanie, you've grown up."

I punched him on the arm. "My name is Meagan, and every time you call me Beanie, I'm going to hit you again." I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and he could see that I really filled them out.

He started to laugh, and I hugged him again. He'd only been gone two years, but he looked much older, and much more mature. He had an inch-long scar on his cheek. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, too. I had expected to see him in his uniform, but he told me he had thrown that, and his entire duffel bag in the dumpster before leaving the base.

He came in and sat down. Maggie came racing into the room, put her paws on the couch, and dropped her favorite toy in his lap. He gave her a scratch behind the ears, and she lay down at his feet. My little "family" was complete.

I got two beers out of the fridge, and handed him one. I opened the other for myself. "You're drinking now?" he asked.

"I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Yeah, I noticed," he smiled at me. It was so good to have him home!

We had a couple more beers, and I asked him how it had been in Afghanistan. He spoke quietly for a while, talking about the heat, the dust, and the boredom, then he became quite emotional.

"It was awful, Bean--uh, Meagan. We killed people who didn't do anything to us, who had nothing to do with 9-11. They were different, they were there, and we killed them; men, women, kids." He had an entirely different attitude about the military than he did when he enlisted. Tears started running down his face when he talked about the explosion that killed Keith Peterson, his best friend since grammar school, and wounded him.

I put my arms around him and held him tight. Drawing his head to my breast, I held it there and stroked it,running my fingers through his hair, letting him cry it out. I was filled with love for him, not just sexually, but for the man himself. He wasn't a boy anymore.

It was getting late, and I went upstairs and put on my sleepwear, then joined Matt again on the couch. I had always slept in a tee shirt and boxer shorts, only now my body was different underneath it. I could see his eyes on me as I walked across the room; my braless boobs jiggled under the tee, and my nipples pushed out big dents in the fabric.

When I kissed him goodnight, my lips lingered longer than the typical sisterly kiss he was used to. He looked a little bit surprised, but he returned it in kind. I wondered if he could hear the buzzing noises or the soft moans coming from my bedroom.

The next morning, I was bustling around the kitchen, fixing breakfast. I was wearing the same things I had always worn, a tank top and cut-off shorts. Only now there was an ample amount of cleavage showing above the top. My shorts, like jeans are prone to do, had frayed a bit in the rear, and there was some bare skin visible through the threads.

I knew he was watching me, because when I looked at him, he would turn his eyes away and blush. When I bent over to put Maggie's dish on the floor, the front of my top pulled away from my body, and my tits were clearly on display, encased just over the nipple, in my sexy black lace bra. When I looked at him, he had put a napkin on his lap, but I could tell he had an erection.

I wanted to have an effect on him. I wanted so much to make love with him, but I wanted him to want me, to pursue me, to make me his.

I knew he was interested in my underwear, because I had carefully arranged my bra and thong panties on the top of the clothes hamper in the bathroom, and when I came back and looked again, they were in a different place. There was some thick, sticky fluid in the crotch of my panties. I had never seen semen before, but I knew what it was. The image of him jerking off and thinking of me, thrilled me to the core.

After dinner that night, I opened a bottle of wine, and we flopped out on the couch and listened to some music on the stereo. After drinking a couple glasses, I put my feet in Matt's lap and he started rubbing them, and we started talking.

"So, Meagan, how's your love life? Any boyfriends?"

"Nope, I've been on a few dates, but no boyfriend."

"So you're still a virgin then?"

"Hey, that's getting a little personal, isn't it?" I took one of my feet out of his lap and tickled him in the ribs with it. "Yes, I'm still a virgin. I've been saving myself for you."

He laughed when I said that, then he got kind of a faraway look on his face. He didn't realize how dead serious I was. When he moved my foot, his eyes wandered up my leg. My boxers were kind of loose in the legs, and he could see one lip of my pussy.

About two in the morning, Maggie started whining, and I heard shouting coming from Matt's room. He was thrashing around in his bed, sound asleep, hollering "No, no, God, get him off me. So much blood, so much blood." He was having a flashback dream about his time in Afghanistan.

I lay down on the bed beside him and cradled him in my arms. "It's alright, baby, it's alright, it's only a dream." He calmed down after awhile, and I lay with him, spooning him, until he drifted back into a peaceful sleep. My arm was around him and he covered my hand with his. I could feel my nipples harden, as my breasts pressed against his back. I fell asleep, and stayed in his bed until early morning when Maggie whined to go out. I wondered if he knew I was there.

I came home from the mall with several shopping bags, one of which had "Victoria's Secret" printed prominently on it.

Matt looked up at me when I came in. "So, what did you buy?"

"Oh, just some clothes." I could see him eyeing the "Victoria's Secret" bag. "And, um, a new nightie." I thought hard for a minute. "Would you like me to, ah, model it for you?"

"Sure."

It was a sheer white babydoll, with narrow straps, and some lace at the bodice and along the hem. It was REALLY sheer. I took a big gulp of air, and walked into the living room. My nipples were hard and really poked out. "Ta da," I exclaimed nervously.

His eyes got really big. "My God, Meagan, I can see right through it."

"Do you like what you see?"

"You're my sister, for Christ's sake."

"That doesn't answer the question. Do you like what you see?"

"Well, um, er yeah, but..."

"Judging from the tent in your pants, you like what you see."

His face got red, and I left him sputtering. But at least I knew he was interested. He looked at me much differently after that.

That evening, I offered to give him a backrub. I hadn't done that since he came home, and I knew how much he used to love it. He pulled his tee shirt over his head over his head, and his chest and abdomen were covered with scars from the shrapnel wounds. I wanted to kiss each one of them.

He lay down on a quilt I had spread on the carpet, and I warmed some massage oil in my hands and spread it over his back. He had put on a lot of muscle while he was in the Army. I gave him a thorough kneading, digging deep with my thumbs and fingers. He was virtually purring with pleasure.

When I finished, I turned my back to him, pulled my tee shirt over my head, and lay face down on the quilt where he had been. "My turn," I said, handing him the bottle of oil.

He was really gentle and tentative at first. "Harder, please, I'm not going to break." He really got into it, running his thumbs up and down both sides of my spine, working the muscles of my upper back. My boxers rode kind of low, down on the curve of my hips, and the upper swell of my ass cheeks rose over the top of them. He included all the flesh that was showing, and I about melted.

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