Having Some Brie Ch. 02

All characters are at least 18 years old.

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"What up, Stef," said a guy with short dirty blond hair fresh out of a hurricane. I dropped myself unceremoniously into the bus seat next to him. Our home had once been within walking distance of school, and occasionally Brie and I would walk together in the mornings. As things were now, with money being so tight, there was no way we could afford to live near a school zone. At least now I could take the bus with my best friend.

"Hey Drew," I sighed. Drew scrutinized me quizzically. We'd been best friends since second grade, and he knew whenever I was out of it. After what had happened yesterday, I think my current mood qualified.

"The hell's wrong with you?" he asked tactfully.

"Dude, don't even ask," I said into my hands. When I looked back up at him, he had some kind of mischief across his face. "What?"

"Got something to do with her?" he asked, jerking his head toward my sister who had boarded after me. "'Cause she was staring daggers at you, bro. What'd you do?"

"What do you mean, 'what'd I do?' We had a fight, that's it." Half-truths worked wonders. Usually. Drew was having none of it.

"Pft," came his immediate retort. "I've seen you after a fight with her. Guys don't look like you after a fight with *any* woman unless they fucked up. So spill it."

I groaned. "Dude, can you just drop it? I'll tell you some other time." Yeah, right. Thankfully, he shrugged and readjusted his legs in his seat. He was a tall guy, but was still a benchwarmer on the basketball team due to how lanky he was. It seemed no matter how much he worked out, he couldn't gain any muscle mass, so eventually he just gave up. I wasn't exactly ripped either, but I still had a respectable amount of muscle. Our swim coach had told us to stay conditioned over the summer, and while I'd tried to stay in shape, we'd been too busy with the divorce and everything for me to get some swimming time in.

"Brie's wearing a lot today," Drew commented. "It's sweltering. The hell is she doing in a sweater?"

Probably trying to cover up because she feels vulnerable after she caught me smelling her smallclothes. I gave him a distasteful look. "You're checking her out again or something? I thought you were over my sister."

"Persistence is sexy to girls."

"Yeah, okay. When you get locked up as a sex offender, I'm not visiting."

"Just saying, Sabrina's fucking hot."

"Because of the sweater?"

"Sure." He gave me a sly wink. I sighed in disgust.

"Never gonna happen, bud."

"*Persistence*, my dude."

No guy liked the thought of their best friend getting with their sister, regardless of the guy's own feelings for her. I suppose it was fair to say that my protectiveness for Brie was twofold, but I managed to keep it reined in and luckily Drew dropped it afterward, spending the rest of our ride to school talking about the latest basketball stats.

I barely heard him. Not because I had no interest in hoop -- I didn't -- but because my mind had reeled me back to last night. After the foot wash, my bladder had finally caught up with my brain and decided to try and make me wet myself. I had shuffled to the bathroom, only to remember that Brie was still in there, most likely taking a shower. I didn't want to risk pissing her off by demanding she let me in, but as I stood there contemplating whether to relieve myself in the kitchen sink or somewhere outdoors, I overheard something. Brie was most definitely *not* taking a shower in there.

My bladder suddenly went silent as my brain seemingly stalled. Was she really... playing with herself? After I'd kissed her feet?

Holy shit.

My mind raced with ideas on how to use this information, foremost of which was the opportunity to blackmail her back and get out from under her thumb. But to do that, the information I had needed to be greater in potential embarrassment than me jacking off to her panties. This wasn't enough. And either way I'd need evidence, maybe a method of disseminating it-- Oof, poor choice of words.

Then I decided to play it smarter. There was a better way to leverage this discovery. I just needed to play my cards right. And timing was important.

That night I had trouble falling asleep. Brie had issued a threat of castration if I tried anything funny, and slept with her back to me. Because we now shared a room, I had to dress more conservatively to bed. The heat of summer still lingered, and I threw my covers aside while I thought about everything that happened that day. A guy and a girl in the same bedroom during puberty? Something awkward was bound to happen sooner or later. Mom had brightly suggested it would be akin to a trial run for roommates, if we went to college. With what money? I thought.

Brie and I were eighteen now. No child support checks. Mom had to take a second job, and was looking for a third, and Brie and I each worked part-time; she in a clothing store, I in an electronics store. I didn't know a thing about computers, but I could at least visually tell between models. And it certainly beat flipping burgers. So until things started looking up, we were stuck in a room together.

I cast a glance back over at Brie. Fuck. She'd kicked off her covers too. She was still on her side, and her ass was looking me straight in the eye. I had to flood my thoughts with warnings of castration to keep my cool. I didn't sleep a wink, my head echoing the entire night with my sister's whisper, "Just like that..."

I damn near fell out of my seat when Drew started yelling at me to move my fat ass out of the way so he could get off the bus.

--

After school and swim practice I walked to work, saying hello to the only other guy on shift with me. Brie had been running through my thoughts all day, and I was ready for a distraction. A female customer was thankfully happy to oblige, and I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to decipher if her son's gaming console was made by Microsoft, Sony, or Nintendo. By the time I got home I was exhausted. And then I remembered it was trash day. And mom was going to be home late, so I had to cook.

"Fuck," I muttered as I walked into my room and threw my bag on my bed. Brie looked up from hers, our laptop sitting on the mattress in front of her. Mom had begged me to sell mine, because I'm the guy, right? I was the new man of the house. I had to make sacrifices to take care of my family. I had protested for appearance's sake, but the truth was that it felt empowering.

"Hey, perv," she said with a devilish smirk. "Mom's gonna be late again today, which means you need to--"

"I *know*," I groaned. "Don't make me spit in your food."

"I have some really juicy gossip for mom if you do," she replied, sticking a foot out and wiggling her toes at me.

"What, you're gonna make me suck your toes next?" I jibed. "Never knew you were such a freak, Sabbie."

"I'm not the one who got caught sniffing panties, Steffie," she shot back. We glared at each other before bursting out laughing. We hated being called those names. More specifically, we were the only ones who used them on each other, typically to piss each other off. It was something we kept just for ourselves. I figured if there was ever a time somebody body snatched one of us and tried to impersonate us, that would be the way to tell the real twin from the fake.

"Is spaghetti okay with you, *my Mistress*?" I joked. Her eyes lit right up. Well, that was a mistake.

"Ooh, I like that!" she announced enthusiastically.

"No." I cut her off before she could continue, walking toward the kitchen.

"I wasn't gonna actually wish for that!" she called after me.

"But you were thinking about it!" I yelled back. I heard her giggling to herself and smiled, glad we were still on good terms and she was taking the whole situation well. It surprised me, honestly.

As I was pouring sauce onto our pasta, she came out into the living room and waggled the remote. "You up for another episode?" This past year, it seemed all the television shows had decided to air in the same six-month period, leaving a sudden drought of things to watch in autumn. None of the new seasons had started yet, which left us stuck watching a series Brie loved about the Regency or Renaissance. I could never get them figured out. All I knew was the actors spoke in British accents and threw lots of masque balls.

"Sure," I said over my shoulder. "I love sleeping on the couch." She threw a throw pillow at the back of my head, which seemed apt. I chuckled and brought our dinner over to her, and we settled in before starting the show.

Five minutes in and I was already lost, which was impressive because the first minute was a recap of the previous episode and the second was the opening.

"Oh. My. God..." Brie muttered. "She's gonna go to the party anyway." She was absently shoveling spaghetti into her mouth, enrapt with the unfolding drama.

"Why's that a big deal?" I asked, confused. I don't know why I bothered trying to follow the plot. Maybe it was her enthusiasm. She looked so happy summing things up for me that I just let her talk.

"Because! Her father forbade her from going because she's already betrothed to the other guy!"

"What other guy?"

"The duke!"

"Brie, there's like ten dukes in this thing."

"The one with the toupée-looking hair!"

"Yeah, but who cares? It's just one party."

"But she's gonna go, so she's gonna meet that handsome young guy!"

"And?"

"And he's her long-lost brother!"

"Oh, shit!"

"Yeah!"

I swear, pop culture was becoming saturated with incest. After some crazy medieval series kicked the trend off, interest -- or, at the very least, awareness -- had skyrocketed. Now the home page of every pornographic website was plastered with step-family taboo. They hid behind the step- bullshit, but everybody knows what people really want. When the dark aspects of my fantasies come out to play, I like to blame my fetish on this fad. But as I watched Brie watch the serial, face full of pasta, I knew what was really going on.

*Getting in too deep, Stef.*

We watched as the young woman danced with her brother, both wearing ball masks, both pretending that they didn't know who they were dancing with. By now Brie was done with her food, and I lifted the plate off her crossed legs and set it on the coffee table before she could tip it over and smear tomato sauce everywhere. I did the same with mine and shuffled closer to her, spreading my arms across the back of the couch. Brie was leaning toward the TV, barely blinking as the couple on screen flirted. She suddenly gasped and began frantically patting my thigh.

"What? What?" I demanded.

"He's gonna kiss her!" she hissed.

And that he did. Their lips met and the rest of the actors dropped out of sight as the lights darkened, save for a spotlight remaining on the couple. I even saw tongue, and concluded that there was no way this thing was historically accurate. Besides, French kissing was invented in France, right?

Then I noticed Brie's hand. It was resting lightly on my thigh, still there after all the patting earlier. I inhaled sharply, but already my member was stiffening. I glanced up at Brie to see if she was aware of what she was doing. She had a look of longing on her face as she watched the siblings make out. Her breaths were long and deep, as if in a trance, and her fingers began lightly squeezing my leg, just enough to go from resting on it to holding it.

But then all the lights came back on and the girl's father stormed into the room, ripping her from her brother's arms and dragging her away. Brie let out a quiet "No!" before curling up against me, hands clenched into fists against my chest. I swallowed, feeling like I had a brick in my throat. What the hell was happening?

And then the episode ended on that cliffhanger.

"What? That's it?!" Brie screamed, sitting up straight. "Motherfucker!" She flopped back and rested her head against my shoulder, eyes shut in exasperation while whining sadly. Then, seemingly for the first time, she noticed how we were sitting. She flew off me as if launched, scrambling to her feet and then casually sweeping her hair out of her face. Internally I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been dangerously close to doing something I would regret. But she'd felt so soft and warm...

"Y'know what, I'll get the dishes tonight," she stammered, snatching them up and heading for the sink. Fleeing the scene, I see. I watched her go, frowning. She was walking strangely, rubbing her legs together as she went. Seemed the little hints I'd noticed yesterday were right on the dot.

These feelings I had for my sister... They weren't a one-way street.

--

"I need to use the computer."

"I'm using it," Brie replied.

"I have homework, Brie. C'mon, give it."

"You can use it in the morning, before school."

"Are you serious?" I folded my arms. "Is this one of your wishes?"

"No. This is me being a stubborn sister. Now piss off."

I yelled in frustration and walked out. Needed to take the trash out anyway. When I got back she was still working, and I figured if I was only getting my turn on the laptop in the morning, I should get a head start on sleep. I went to brush, then turned out the lights and went to bed. Brie continued working in the dark for maybe another hour before closing it and setting it on the desk, then going to bed herself.

I was going to need a prescription for my new insomnia. I lay in bed awake, Brie on her side facing away again. My mind wandered, sifting through all the information I had.

Confirming Brie's feelings had been easier than expected. Lightning fast, actually. It was as if seeing me with her panties, and therefore realizing my attraction for her, had unlocked something inside her. As if she could finally let some of her own fantasies seep out when her guard was down.

Ugh, if I didn't get any sleep two nights in a row, I'd be dead on my feet. It didn't help that Brie kept shifting her position, the covers incessantly rustling. And then I heard the faintest moan.

My eyes went wide and I looked over at her. There was absolute silence. Even her bedclothes weren't rustling anymore. Had I just imagined it? I lay back down and exhaled deeply, trying to clear my head. A few minutes later the rustling started back up, and her breaths were shallow. Mind you, I didn't make a habit of listening to my sister's breathing while she slept, even after my fantasy had festered. That was just too much. The only people who listened to each other breathe at night were people sharing a bed, right? I didn't want to be that far gone just yet.

Yep. She was definitely touching herself. I supposed it was possible that she'd gone these past three months as frustrated as I was. Now this was the second time in two days... that I knew of. At home, at least. Her moaning got a little louder, and again she suddenly stopped, most likely afraid she'd wake me up. Joke's on her.

I rolled the covers off myself, leaving them piled between her and my manhood, which was standing at attention and reporting for duty. This way I wouldn't rustle, and I could expose myself without her seeing anything if she looked over.

Of course, I executed everything far more stealthily than she did. Men were undisputed champions of masturbating under the radar, thanks to years of training. My friends and I once joked about guy things, and they all attested that they could do the deed in complete silence, with not even a face twitch.

Wrapping my fingers around my cock, I began stroking it to the same beat as what I could hear of her rhythm. I closed my eyes and imagined that we were feeling the same thrusts. She looked so beautiful in my mind's eye, riding on top of me and digging her fingers into my hair. We breathed as one and we moved as one, mirror images of each other. I could feel myself getting close, and realized I had to leave it at this. If I bust a nut on myself, I'd either have to clean it up and possibly interrupt Brie's fun, or let it dry on me and deal with it in the morning. Neither sounded ideal. I sighed and set my sex down on my belly, listening to my sister near her climax.

Quicker rustling. Unrestrained moans. A hitch in breath. Sporadic rustling. Shaky breaths through clenched teeth. Into long, increasingly deep breaths. Into a satisfied sigh.

I relished it all. Wishing I could finish myself off. Wishing I could go over there and slip under the sheets with her. Wishing I could make her mine. But I was the genie. I didn't get to make my own wishes until I was free.