A Sibling Resemblance

It had been this way for the past four years. Each October, right around Columbus Day, she would get a text from her younger brother: coming to the convention again this year… can I stay with you again?

She didn’t mind. It was the only time they got to see each other. He lived in LA. She was two mountain ranges away, in Upstate New York.

Crystal was six years older. They were both divorced, the only difference being her son was already an adult. His two were still in school. She lived alone and appreciated the occasional company. Her brother was an easy guy to be around, full of wonder about the world and quick to lighten any conversation with humor.

When his text arrived this year, she responded right away. A thumbs up emoji with a smile. As she sent it, she remembered the slight complications of his first request, four years ago. Back then, it had taken her by surprise. A devilish smile creased her mouth as she thought of it. If he only had known. Since then, her secret had only grown and prospered.

Ever since that first request, she had known to schedule her… get-together… on another weekend–usually the one after his visit. There was something deliciously taboo about experiencing it all so soon after a family visit.

Snap out of it, Crystal thought. If you keep thinking about it you’ll go up to your room and play with yourself for the rest of the day. You have things you need to get done. She looked at the emojis she’d just sent. Can’t wait to see you, she added.

Two weeks later, he flew in from Los Angeles and was at her house by 8pm. She’d been up since 5am. They’d only been talking in her living room for an hour when she started yawning.

This always happens, he joked. You can never even stay up for a second glass of wine.

Easy for you to say. You’re on West Coast time.

By 9:30pm, she was ready to throw in the towel. I’ll see you in the morning, she said, folding the throw blanket and putting it on the top of the couch. As she started up the stairs, she heard him give a mock “booooo” followed by another laugh.

The guest room was downstairs off the kitchen and had its own bathroom. So upstairs she was able to get as comfortable as she preferred, which for her meant absolutely nothing. But as she prepared to get under her covers, she saw her empty water glass. She threw on the short robe next to the bed. It barely covered her ass. She walked to the edge of the stairs and listened. The shower in the guest room was running. She dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

In the years since she’d bought the robe, her body had gotten even more… voluptuous. At least that’s how she liked to think of it. Her fuller figure nearly spilled out of it now, but she still felt sexy in it. She knew how many men adored her real-life figure. The robe was not something to be wearing around the house with guests but… what he won’t see won’t hurt him, she thought.

She turned from the refrigerator door where she’d filled her glass and almost gasped. There in the hallway, looking at her with his dry towel over his shoulder, was her brother.

I heard the shower and thought…. her voice trailed off.

Oh, yeah, he said, trying not to look too closely. I’m about to jump in now.

She turned to go back upstairs but she got too close to one of the chairs and the robe caught on it. The fabric was pulled up to her waist, exposing her generous backside. She laughed again, somewhat embarrassingly, as she grabbed the edge of it and pushed it back down. Just the time to not be wearing any panties, she thought.

She didn’t turn around to see if her brother was still standing there, but knew he probably saw. Back in her room, what had been sleepiness was replaced with adrenaline. It was mostly embarrassment — well, that plus something else. She lay there, naked again, and felt the familiar tingling of early arousal.

Oh my God, I’m so predictable, she thought. The tinge of shame added to her excitement. I can’t feel someone’s eyes on my naked body without getting turned on… even if it’s my brother! She exaggerated the encounter in her mind and wondered what it would have felt like if the robe had completely torn off. Now she was completely wet. She started to explore herself in the way she would on a night with no one there — her finger circling her clit. Not longer after, she heard the feignt sound of the TV go on in the living room.

She could either give herself a quick orgasm or draw it out. A quick one would be if she watched a video. Something with a huge cumshot, preferably. A more drawn out one… well, there were many ways to skin that cat. But tonight she thought of something she hadn’t done in a while — phone sex with a stranger.

In her contacts, there was a cryptic one which read: “Lava (PC)”. It stood for LavaLife Phone Chat. A boyfriend had introduced her to it years ago and she used it sparingly, mostly when she wanted to anonymously search for a sexy voice.

As she called into the phone line, she laughed to herself about how easy it is to find a horny guy. But to find the right horny guy — articulate and flirtatious — that took some searching. Everyone recorded a greeting when they got on, but she’d learned that there were so many more men calling than women that she didn’t even have to do that. She could just record 10 seconds of silence as her greeting. That allowed her to scroll through mens’ greetings without being swamped with messages right away. Plus, it felt more mysterious.

She’d been scrolling for 20 minutes when she heard a familiar voice. At least partially familiar. But… wait… no… it can’t be. She hit “9” so the greeting would replay. It does sound like him… kinda… if he had a deeper voice.

Then she heard it. The TV playing in the background behind the recorded greeting. Holy fuck, she thought. She slid out of bed and back to the top of the stairs and listened. Yep, she could hear the familiar strains of a Seinfeld marathon on the TV downstairs, matching what she’d heard in the background of this recorded greeting. Holy Fuck, she thought again.

She got back in bed and listened for a third time. She couldn’t keep her fingers off her clit. I am so glad I didn’t record a greeting or the shoe could have been on the other foot, she thought. What should I do now? Her mind whirled with contingencies.

So he’s down in my living room watching TV and calling the phone line. Her detective senses sprang to life. No, let’s be honest, he’s mostly calling the line. The TV is just cover noise. She listened to his recording greeting one more time to try to hear any subtext.

Hi, I’m Sam, it started, his voice a half octave lower than she was used to it. I find myself with a night to myself in a city I don’t live in and I don’t have anyone to talk to. I thought maybe you could help me out with that.

So far nothing embarrassing, she thought. But there was an energy underneath his voice that she had never heard before.

It ended with, if you’re the type of woman who likes talking about anything and everything… and I do mean everything… then send me a message and say hi.

She paused before she decided if she was going to respond. It was thrilling to be in on a secret he didn’t know about. She knew that even though his greeting wasn’t overtly sexual, that had to be his motivation. After all, they were brother and sister, and that was the only reason she ever called.

She settled on sending him a pre-recorded flirt. She hated when men sent those to her — they are system-generated prompts and suggest the caller isn’t creative enough to craft their own question. But she couldn’t risk revealing her voice, and maybe, just maybe, he’d respond. He would have no clue the person he’s speaking to has known him his entire life.

The flirt she chose was a sexy woman’s voice saying, “Tell me the real reason you called. Curious minds want to know.”

She hit send and a jolt went through her body, intensified in her nipples and throughout her clitoris. Now all she could do was wait. She kept hitting “3” to pass over one greeting after the next, uninterested in any caller other than her brother. Three minutes later she got a response.

Hi, how are you? This is Sam. I usually don’t respond to pre-recorded flirts. Especially if your greeting is silent. But there’s something about the mystery of you that is intriguing me tonight. Something told me to do things differently and make an exception this one time. Oh, and as for that flirt, the real reason I’m on here is because I am extremely horny and I haven’t cum in seven days. Is that too much honesty?

She hit “9” immediately to hear it again. Seven days. Something about the specificity of that number stuck with her. He must be so full of cum, she thought. She immediately felt guilty for the thought. But not guilty enough to stop sleuthing.

She practiced altering her voice a few times before she recorded a response. She settled on something akin to a whisper that she guessed wouldn’t sound familiar to him. Then she manufactured a story.

Thanks for taking the chance and sending me a message, she whispered. Since you were honest, I will be too. I’m also horny, but very attached. He’s asleep in the other room. That’s why I’m being so cautious. Thank you for being candid. I can relate. Seven days is a long, long time.

To preserve some mystery, she left it at that. She knew he’d quickly send another message back.

Wow, that’s hot, his message started. Married, huh? And if we’re being super honest then maybe I should confess to something else. I’m not only horny, but I’m horny while staying with someone else. But I don’t know how you’re going to take it. It’s a little… out there.

She had to respond once more. Well, why would I be out here if I wasn’t the curious type. Don’t worry, whatever it is, I won’t judge you. She noticed she was playing with clit a little faster now. She was soaking wet.

His response was a long one. She could tell he had no suspicion about who he was talking to. That thrilled her. She took out her toy and rubbed up against it as she listened to the message once… twice… three times.

First, I should warn you. What I’m about to say is a bit… taboo. So if you’re not comfortable with that, you should probably hit “6”. I’m at my sister’s house. She’s upstairs asleep, and I’m downstairs in the living room, stroking a very hard cock. I could be in the guest room, but to be honest, it thrills me more to be on her couch, doing something I’m not supposed to. Just like you’re doing something you aren’t supposed to while your partner is sleeping.

After listening the third time, she hung up. He’d think that his whispering woman had gotten cold feet and left the line. But that wasn’t it. She was now gripped by another compulsion — to get as close as possible without him hearing.

Her stairway was carpeted, so she could move quietly. She was still wearing her robe, with no panties underneath. She realized that each of the past three years he had stayed with her she had fallen asleep so quickly. He had come to assume he would have the downstairs all to himself. Had he done this before, she wondered. It was exciting to imagine — the secrecy, the risk. Now she was the one who was in on the secret, and he didn’t know it.

The stairs led to a formal dining room that she mostly didn’t use. Past that room was the slightly sunken living room, set off by a step down. She reached the bottom of the stairs, moving slowly so as not to make a sound. The dining room was wood floored, but the TV provided some cover. As she crept closer to the wall separating the two rooms, she could hear his voice clearer. He was sending someone another message.

Now only a wall separated them. He was probably completely naked, lulled into complacency by the freedom of the last three years. She could hear what he was saying when he left a message. When he wasn’t, she could hear the faint sound of oil and stroking. That confirmed it. In my living room, she thought. Damn, why does this turn me on so much?

An idea came to her mind and the reaction of her body told her how thrilling it would be. What if I act like I was awakened by the TV? Like I have come down half asleep to turn it off, thinking he’d forgotten when he went to bed? What if I walk in not even looking at the sofa, as if I’m unaware anyone is there at first?

Suddenly, she felt compelled to do it. She just had to garner the courage. Not the courage to see what she was about to see. She desperately wanted to see that. The courage to experience whatever the consequences would be. The courage to realize one of her deepest fantasies. She and her brother were six years apart. They were from a big family. So they had never had cause to talk about… well, the sexual side of life. Now it seemed obvious. The things that turned him on — like masturbating with the risk of getting caught — were the same kind of things that turned her on. Genetics, she thought. It’s fucking crazy.

She put herself in his place, on that couch, and intuitively knew she had time. He was going to be on that phone line for quite a while, edging, enjoying the high. She relaxed, seated quietly up against the wall. Her bathrobe was parted now. Her fingers started rubbing her clit again, matching his own rhythm. A memory took her back. A memory from the first time he called to ask to stay with her, four years ago.

With her brother’s lowered voice as her backdrop, she wandered back to four years ago. That was the first year she and her friend Greg had initiated their “Coming Together” as they joking called it. They privately called the next one “The Second Coming”, which especially pleased Greg, who was the son of a minister. Others followed, every four or five months, as new participants were found. Now almost at their “Eleventh Coming”, which was scheduled for next weekend, part of her still couldn’t believe it had worked.

It had been Greg’s brainchild, not her’s, but she knew immediately the idea fit her like a tailor-made gown. The seed of the idea came on one of blissful long evenings when they were masturbating together, sharing their fantasies.

Have you ever thought about watching two guys stroke at the same time, Greg had asked.

Yes, she said. I’ve thought about it a lot.

What do you like most about it?

I like picturing two men cumming all over my body at the same time. She remembered how instantly drenched her pussy was when she said those words. Greg felt the energy behind them too.

You are such a glorious cum slut, he’d replied. There was a twinkle in his eye. That was one of her deepest sexual secrets. One of many. That first night, they fantasized about how to make it happen and they came so hard together they knew they had to give it a shot.

Two months later, Greg asked her if she might be comfortable conducting an experiment. He had a friend Mike who might be open to it, but he wanted to make sure that she would be comfortable with him first. Greg told her to stop by his apartment at a time when he would be hanging out with Mike. If she liked his energy, there was a code word: “famished”. All she had to do was work it into conversation and he would know. Mike would think she was hungry. Greg would know what she was really famished for–cum.

Crystal knew immediately that she liked Mike. When she’d weaved the magic word into conversation that first evening she shot Greg a glance and he couldn’t supress a devious grin. A month later, Greg arranged for another get together at his house. This time, he’d clued Mike in and they were all on the same page. The evening started casually but ended very intensely, just as she’d hoped.

Now, sitting against her dining room wall, her brother masturbating on the other side, she remembered every detail–her between Greg and Mike on the couch, both of them stroking their huge cocks, her vibrator massaging her clit. Most of all she remembered their cum–loads of it–shooting all over her legs and stomach and pussy. Her orgasm had been immediate once she felt that. Most surprisingly, maybe, was how comfortable it felt afterward. Their ability to laugh together. Their desire to do it again in a few months.

That next gathering, that “Second Coming”, had been scheduled the first weekend her brother had asked to stay with her. Problem was, said she’d could host the masturbation party. But she couldn’t say no to her brother.

Greg had saved the day and offered to host again. Crystal made an excuse to her brother about a Saturday night work dinner. This time there were four of them–Mike, a new female friend of his named Joanna, and Greg and her. This time Joanna and Crystal sat on the couch together at the very end and offered both their bodies as enthusiastic canvases for their partner’s cum. The more people that joined, the more excited became her anticipation.

In the years that followed, she and Greg found the perfect number: 6 or 7 participants. She had also learned to not schedule a party the week her brother always visited. The next one was the following Saturday. She was anticipating it even more than usual because a couple new guys would be there. New cocks to admire. New cumshots to feel on her skin.

It was her ritual to not masturbate for a week before one of these parties. The anticipation made it more enjoyable. But tonight had thrown a wrench into that plan.

She had been sitting there for about 15 minutes now. Her brother seemed to be talking to a woman live rather than sending messages. There was now the possibility he might cum, that she might miss it. On the other hand, she realized she could just slink back upstairs. To listen, but not open Pandora’s box.

But when had she avoided that? Never. Sexual curiousity drew her in like a gravitational force. The fact that her family knew nothing about this side of her life was exciting. Obviously, her brother was a lot like her.

She stood up quietly. She smoothed out her robe and made sure it was loose but not completely open… just yet. She took on the role of someone who had just woken up and heard the TV on. Then, with a deep, excited inhale, she walked into the living room, lit only by the light of the TV.

She made a sleepy beeline to the TV, as if she was unaware he was in the room. Three quarters of the way there, she pretended to catch him out of the side of her eye. He looked startled, unsure at first if she noticed him, then as he saw her head turn he instinctively reached for a blanket, but had a hard time getting it across his lap, as hard as he was.

Oh my God, she said in the low light, her hand going to her mouth. I’m so sorry. I thought you’d left the TV on when you went to bed.

She saw the phone on the couch next to him. In his surprise, he had forgotten to hang up. They could both hear now, in the silence, a woman’s voice say, hello? hello?

He reached over and hung up the call. Now there was total silence. She was standing in front of the TV looking at him. He was sitting on the couch, looking at her. There was no question of what he had been doing. Now it was a contest to see who would speak first.

I’m really sorry, sis, he said. I thought you were asleep.

It’s OK, she said. It’s really OK. Then a long pause and a smile. I guess we have to take this story with us to our graves.