The Fortress

"Very sexy!" I whistled at her. "Very, very sexy!"

She bent down to lift the gown to cover herself up when I stopped her. "Wait! Why don't you complete the picture and lift your shirt up to show that bellybutton, again."

She did. She looked very good as her hair spread behind her as a nice backdrop to her pose. I was getting an erection just by looking at her. She didn't wait for me to say anything. She picked up her gown and left the room quickly.

I guess it must have taken her a while to compose herself because she came back only after an hour or so. I was in bed already. She came and sat on the edge, close to my feet.

"You really think I looked sexy," she asked. Her face was still pink. She was anxious to hear my words, as if she hadn't heard them before.

"Yes," I answered; then almost without thinking, I added, "You are packaged very nicely. You will always look sexy."

"Really, you think so?" I guess not having any compliments paid to oneself; one does tend to crave them.

"Yes, I do think so. Now, go away and let me sleep."

It hit me then that my sister was looking for validation---male validation---to boost her self-esteem. Since I was the only male around to give her any feedback of that sort, well, she went for it, despite the consequences.

Thus I learned another shortcoming of our culture and how it negatively affects a girl's self-esteem. Lacking any validation, she can never quite be sure if she should feel good about herself or not. I actually felt sorry for my sister.

She beamed with pleasure as she whimpered, "Thanks," and went out almost skipping.

She thanked me properly the next morning. "I don't know how to tell you this, Shafiq, but you have made me feel good about myself and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Well, it's my pleasure." I was gracious.

I expected some calm to return to our encounters. She had received the kind of validation she needed, and we had reached the line that couldn't be crossed. It was true that we weren't the same pair as we were at the beginning of my vacation, but we were still brother and sister and we could only flirt so much before reining ourselves in.

She proved me wrong that evening. She was sitting cross-legged in front of me and her eyes were focused on her feet, when she said softly, "I don't shave down there either."

That statement took me by surprise. "You know, Shamila, we may be sharing more than we should be sharing."

"I just wanted you to know." She was looking at her fingernails. She wasn't looking at me like she had done during previous revelations. It gave me a perfect opportunity to observe her profile.

I noticed her thin lips with just a hint of perspiration on the tip of her upper lip, probably because she was nervous. She had lips that naturally looked wet and very inviting, very kissable. Her thin nose complimented her features very well. Her chest was moving up and down due to rather rough breathing. She seemed visibly tense as if she had betrayed some hidden emotions and wasn't sure if she should have done it because it left her vulnerable.

I couldn't help feeling aroused. I was in the presence of a girl that was feeling excited in my presence and was sharing some intimate details about her that she normally wouldn't share with just anyone. I wanted her to vocalize her feeling a little more to see if she would betray something else. I asked, "Why do you want me to know that?"

"I don't know. I feel we have created a special bond and I wanted this secret to be added to that bond."

I looked at her sitting there so silently, contemplating her own words. She was waiting for my response to her comment and I didn't know what response was appropriate under the circumstances. Yes, we had created a special bond, but what did that bond mean? What did it imply in terms of our personal contact? Were we now more friends with each other than siblings?

I understood her need for a friend quite well; after all, she didn't have any male friends and if she could share even silly things with me, which she normally wouldn't with her brother, well, I was all for it. Only that I didn't know what my new role constituted. Was I to still treat her like a sister, or could I do or expect more than a brother could?

One thing that I wanted to do then and there was to see how many times my arms would wrap around her thin waist if I were to hold her in my arms. It was just a thought that came to my mind as I watched her squirming in her place.

My heart jumped into my throat and my stomach felt a little queasy when the thought came to my mind that I had the perfect opportunity to push the envelope a little further.

Very quietly and very nonchalantly, I asked, "Can I see it?"

The shock registered just the way I wanted it to. She snapped her head up as she asked, "What?"

"Every time we shared a secret, you showed it to me. First your bellybutton stud and then your armpit hair. I figured this should also follow the same pattern." I looked right into her eyes as I said that.

"I...I couldn't do that," she seemed confused. "That won't be appropriate."

"Technically the others weren't appropriate either. But you were quite anxious to show them to me. Let's just say that this time I'm anxious to see this."

"But why? You know we can't cross that line."

"Yes, I know. But we have nudged that line a little. Let's nudge it a little further."

"But...but...I can't let you see that part of my body. It was okay to show you my belly or underarms, but...you can't look at my..." She left the sentence incomplete. She was really confused. I guess she didn't expect me to go that far. Although she should have known that we were inching towards just such a thing.

"I am sorry, Shamila. You misunderstand me." I decided to take the easy way out. "I don't want to see you down there. I only want to see the hair. You just have to lower yourshalwar a little without exposing any forbidden body parts." I laughed nervously.

My heart was thumping at the thought of her lowering hershalwar. It didn't matter how much I would end up seeing; the fact that I was asking my sister to show me her pubic hair was very erotic for me as my penis was getting harder and harder with each passing moment.

"No, I can't," she said decidedly. "I will die of embarrassment."

"But you weren't embarrassed to tell me about it."

"That's different. Telling you was easy; showing it to you is impossible. Besides, why do you want to see my hair?" She almost seemed to be pleading.

I leaned forward and said in a whisper, "I have never seen a woman's hair before. This seemed like the right opportunity."

"But I am not just any woman. I am your sister."

"I know, but that doesn't matter, does it? You are still a woman."

There, I had done it. I had created the distinction that we needed to make our flirting acceptable. She was still a woman and I was still a man. It was okay for us to feel the way a man and woman feel towards each other even though this man and that woman were related by blood. We were still a man and a woman, with man-woman feelings. Considering that I was the only man around that woman and she was the only woman around this man, the sibling relationship became secondary. The male-female bond became primary.

She was lost in thought. I knew she was weighing my words.

I presented further argument, "It won't take too long. You just have to flash a little bit and we'll be done. I'll see something I have always wanted to see and you'll deepen our newfound bond. It is just hair, like your armpit hair."

"I don't know..."

"Sure, you do. You must be dying to reveal the secret to someone. Here I am, your confidant. This will open up a whole new dimension to our relationship. It will be just between the two of us. No one will know and no one will care, as long as we don't care. Besides, once you do it, we'll move on and forget about it. There will be nothing left to feel embarrassed about."

My own words were echoing in my ears. My blood was rushing so fast I could hear it, along with my own heartbeat. I could even hear the throb in my pants.

"No, I can't do it."

"Sure you can. Just lean back like you did the other day when you told me about your armpit hair. Lift your shirt up like you are showing me your pierced bellybutton and push yourshalwar down an inch or so until I see just the top of your hair."

She closed her eyes and said, "I can't. I can't. I can't."

I sighed in reply. "Okay, Sis. Don't worry. You don't have to."

She opened her eyes and looked at me. I smiled at her to show that it was okay with me.

She sat there contemplating my words while I waited for her to say something. After a while, she leaned back like she had done the other night, dangled her hair off of the bed, and slowly reached with her right hand and started to lift her shirt up.

"Thump, thump, thump," went my heart, as I waited eagerly for the view.

She revealed the top of hershalwar.

"Boom, boom, boom," went the blood running through my brain. I felt like I was going to faint as my heart raced to 90, 100, 110, 120 beats per minute. My breathing was completely out of sync with my heartbeats.

Her belly came into view next.

"Throb, throb, throb," went my eyes as my penis was putting pressure on every muscle in my body.

She lifted her shirt above her bellybutton. Then she showed the beginning of her ribcage.

I heard the sounds of a hurricane in my ears.

She realized then that her shirt at the back was pressed under her ass, thus keeping her front from going any higher. She lifted her body up and came forward a little onto her knees as she pulled it out and freed it with her other hand. She lifted both the front and the back of her shirt all the way up to just below her breasts and held it there with her left hand. The fingers of her right hand disappeared inside hershalwar as they searched for the ends of her cord.

I opened my mouth to control my breathing as my hands trembled with anticipation.

She pulled out the ends of her cord from inside the top of hershalwar. In an effort to muffle my gasp, I ended up drawing my breath in loudly. She smiled as she realized my condition.

I was starting to sweat as she tugged on one end and pulled the cord to undo the knot. Once the knot was gone, she tucked her thumb on the inside of hershalwar and moved it around to loosen the garment.

She lowered her eyes and slowly slid the top of hershalwar down until I began to see her hair. She kept going and more of her hair came into view. She kept lowering it until it brought most of her pubic hair in the open. She stopped short of the lower edge where part of her pussy was starting to show.

It was incredible. I was looking at my sister's pubic hair---her pussy hair---her bush. She was willingly showing me an intimate part of her body and I found that to be everything: erotic, arousing, exciting, you name it.

She must have seen me drooling as a wide smile of satisfaction was imprinted on her lips.

I swallowed hard and stuttered, "They look amazing!"

After waiting for a few second while I took a good look at her hair, she reached for the top of hershalwar to pull it back up.

I almost yelled, as the words stuck in my throat, "Not yet! I am not done yet."

She didn't stop as she said, "I think youare done. If I keep myself exposed any longer, I think you are going to have a stroke."

I guess she could see for herself how flustered I was. She pulled hershalwar up and quickly tied the cord into a knot again. I was mesmerized as her hands worked around the front of her pussy and her fingers tucked thenala back into position. She was flushed all over with either embarrassment or excitement, I couldn't tell.

"Sorry, Shamila," I apologized, "I can't help feeling excited." I wanted to use the word aroused, but I thought better of it. "I have never seen anything so amazing. And the effect of seeing your hair on me is incredible."

She seemed flustered herself and had trouble staying in front of me, so she quickly dashed out, while pulling her shirt back down over her hips and ass as she exited the room.

The following morning she said to me, "You know, brother, we went a little too far last night."

"I know, Sis. I know. But you were very brave and I want to thank you for it."

"I feel very bad. I feel like I betrayed something sacred. I don't know what you think of me now, but I feel a little less in my own eyes."

"There is no need to feel that way. You didn't do anything wrong and you definitely didn't betray anything. In fact, I actually owe you one for sharing so much of yourself with me. I feel honoured."

"Well, I am still troubled though and I think it is best for us to step back a little."

"Maybe you are right. Maybe that is wise for us. That means you'll have to stay out of my room if we are to step back."

"Why? We don't need to go that far."

"Yes, we do. You've seen my reaction last night. I can't sit and talk to you like that never happened. It will take some time to get back to normal."

"But you said that we'll move on and forget about it once I showed my hair to you. Now you are saying something different."

"I am sorry, Shamila. I didn't know at that time how strong a reaction I was going to have to seeing your hair. It was much worst than I anticipated so it is now difficult to forget and move on. I need time to adjust back to things."

It was my mother who noticed that something was wrong between the two of us. One afternoon, during my usual tea session, she asked me, "So, what's with you and your sister? You seem to be upset with each other."

I didn't think anyone would notice the change, but apparently someone did. I replied, "I don't know what you mean, mom. There is nothing the matter. We are not upset with each other. We are okay."

"But, she has become quiet again, like she was before you came. I had started to worry about her silence and I thought your coming was a blessing because it cheered her up. Now it seems she is reverting back to that other self. You don't even spend time together in the evenings."

"I guess the novelty of my return has worn off. She was attentive to my comfort at the beginning, but that may have been a hardship for her, so she is not doing it anymore."

"I know your sister, son. She can never consider that a hardship. I think she feels quite strongly towards you and she would be happy to do things for you."

"Then I don't know what could be the matter. I don't have any problem."

"She is a bit immature and she is quite curious about life as anyone in her position would be. I hope she didn't say or do anything inappropriate that made you tell her off. It seems she has backed away from you because of something you have said to her."

My mom was very perceptive; although I doubted if she was perceptive enough to guess the real reason.

"I don't recall anything like that, but if you want, I can talk to her and find out the problem."

"You do that, son. I want you to pull her out of this mode, whatever you have to do. Next stage is depression and that'll ruin her life if she succumbs to that."

That night, I went to my sister's room to have a chat with her. That was the first time I had seen her room in a long while and I found it to be quite pleasant. She had her doll collection nicely displayed in a cupboard. Disney characters were decorating her bed covers and pillowcases. Pink curtains with dolphin lamps and a dresser full of makeup stuff, even though I had never really seen her wearing any.

She was surprised at my visit. I sat on the edge of her bed as she sat cross-legged towards the head.

I said to her, "Mom is concerned that there is a problem between the two of us and she wants us to resolve it so she can see her daughter smiling again."

I was trying to make light of the situation but she was very sombre. She didn't even look at me when she spoke, "But there is no problem between us. Is there?"

She looked at me with that question. It seemed obvious that she was fishing for something.

I looked back at her with seriousness and said, "I guess there is; but what, I don't know. May be you can help me figure it out."

"Well, what do you think the problem is?"

I thought about my answer for a while before responding in all earnest. "I think the problem is you."

She was taken aback. She protested, "Me! How do you figure that?"

"You are confused."

"Confused about what?"

"Shamila, it seems to me you want something from me that even you are not sure what it is. I think I have played my part as appropriately as possible, but you don't seem to think so. The result is that you have a conflict in your mind that first needs to be resolved before anything can happen."

"But where I sit, the conflict seems to be in your mind, not mine. I was quite clear what I was after. I was strengthening a bond that seemed to have developed between us and that is unique in that brothers and sisters don't have that kind of bond. Then you go and react to it like I am not your sister, but someone else."

"My reaction was normal and I am not ashamed of it. You are a beautiful girl and we shared an intimate moment, which was exciting for me. I was excited because of what I saw and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I didn't want to get excited, but I did. I didn't even expect to get excited, but I did. How do I explain to you how strong an effect it had on me to see something so wonderful on you?"

She listened to me very attentively but silently. I could see the turmoil in her chest as a result of confused emotions. I knew she was about to burst and she had to say what was on her mind before that happened.

"You know, Shafiq, you are right. I am confused." Her confession startled me. I didn't think she would see things the way I was seeing them, although I expected her reasons to be different than mine.

She continued, "I was bonding with you more on a male-female level than on a brother-sister level. Not that anyone can blame me for it, considering the fate that I am doomed to. I had never expected your reaction to be as strong and as favourable as it turned out. I expected you to reprimand me or to tell me to stop going that far. Instead, you reciprocated my sentiments exactly as I had hoped for, and I wasn't quite prepared for it."

"So, what is the confusion then?"

"The confusion is that I don't know which way I want to go. I know we have a line that we can't cross, but I was enjoying this newfound bond of ours at a level that I have never experienced before and I thought I was getting carried away beyond reason."

"Listen, Sis. I know exactly what you are going through. It is not easy to live a strict life like the one you are living and I don't mind giving you an outlet to express and even experience some things that you wish to experience. As long as we know the limits, and as long as you know that certain reactions are bound to come, brother or no brother."

She was quietly thinking about what I had said. I waited a while for her to say something, but she didn't.

"Listen, Shamila. If we are synchronized about the situation, then what say we start over."

She only nodded her head. I got up and left.

My mom asked me the following day about my conversation with Shamila and what the problem was. I simply told her, "It is the fortress, mom."

She was saddened by that revelation. "Yes, I know, son. This place can kill one's spirit, especially one so young and not able to understand the reasons behind these restrictions."

"Then what should we do to change her mood."

She sat there thinking about the situation and after a long while, she said, "I guess we have to let her out of her cage for a while, so she can take a break from her confinement."