Living with my brother

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My brother and I started living together in high school; he was a senior and I was a junior.
My brother was handsome, and he had girlfriends who were very clingy. However, he was a free spirit and
didn't want to report his daily life to anyone, so those relationships fizzled out.
I also had boyfriends; our classmates forced us together. We held hands and dated, but
I always pulled away when he tried to kiss me.
In high school, we went to the nearest school and rented a place together, feeling like we were living together.
The girls did the housework, including cleaning, cooking, and laundry—things my mother did at home. When hanging laundry,
I'd hang my brother's underwear and mine together, acting a bit like the housewife.
After class, we'd go home together, buy groceries, cook, eat, and then go about our own business.
Sometimes I'd go to my brother's room to watch TV together, and he'd hug me—a very intimate gesture,
but I thought it was natural. I'd always clung to him since I was little. When I was little, my dad would hold me while we watched TV.
Now, I sit on my brother's lap, or to put it more bluntly, on his erect penis.
He takes good care of me, like a boy pursuing a girl, doing many things for me, such as doing my homework,
picking for lunch, going to the movies, and shopping. Although we go shopping together, our interests are different; he likes looking at boys
' things, while I do things girls do. However, we don't separate, standing side by side, enduring each other.
Sometimes, on crowded pedestrian streets, he would put his arm around my waist, bringing us closer in the crowd, but
I felt uncomfortable because my classmates would see us and think we were dating. But I didn't shake him off, because
he was a gentleman, openly protecting his younger sister. When we were little, we didn't mind holding hands,
but in junior high, he suddenly became shy and wouldn't touch me. In high school, he became interested in me again
.
Time passed by unnoticed, and we began to enjoy the carefree life away from home. Some boys wanted to
date me, but I ignored them. My brother also had girls trying to get close to him, because he was a handsome and
intelligent guy, but he didn't seem to find any of them attractive.
One day, we were talking about what to celebrate, I think it was Valentine's Day. High school boys and girls were all boasting and
calling themselves "sweethearts." I didn't have a boyfriend to send me flowers, and my brother didn't have a girlfriend to win his heart. My brother said, "
Let's just celebrate by ourselves!" I said, "We're not lovers, what's there to celebrate?" My brother said, "Our teacher
said that Valentine's Day was originally called 'Saint Valentino Day,' and it wasn't meant to commemorate lovers, but rather the great love in the world.
Whoever you love most is your 'Saint Valentino.' You should tell them 'I love you.'"
I said, "What does that have to do with us?"
My brother said, "Don't you have someone you love most? Is I your most beloved person?"
I didn't dare say no. I asked him, "And you?"
He said, "Besides Dad and Mom, you are my most beloved person."
We joked around, bought some red wine, and toasted to our Valentino. At home, our parents didn't allow
us to drink, but outside, we could do whatever we wanted. We lit a candle and played some romantic music. We drank
glass after , both of us getting quite tipsy. We started talking about our romantic histories. I said I hadn't yet met
my soulmate who would give me their first kiss. My brother said he already had someone he liked, but didn't know how she felt. Curious, I pressed him for details:
Who was she? Did I know her? He said he knew her. I pressed him again and again, but he still wouldn't reveal anything. Feeling bored,
I said, "I'm drunk, I need to sleep." I went back to my room and lay down fully clothed. My brother came in and said,
"It's Valentine's Day. There's something I haven't said yet. Do you want to hear it?"
I said, "No, unless you tell me who your dream girl is."
He said, "Don't be angry with me. You are her, and she is you. I've loved you for a long time." I couldn't
tell if it was the drunkenness or if my brother's words had struck a nerve with me. I had a strange
feeling about my brother. He embraced me and kissed me, and I couldn't refuse him. That was my first kiss. A tingling sensation spread through my body; I felt lightheaded,
like I was dreaming. My brother hugged me and we French kissed for a long time. French kissing means I didn't push him away; I even returned the kiss, and
we kissed back and forth.
That was my first kiss. Then my brother's hands were on my chest; no boy had ever touched my breasts before.
Later… well, we made love naked. So embarrassing! Lying naked and close together in bed with my brother,
it was indescribably sweet.
That was my first time. I know it's wrong, but I just couldn't control myself.
The next day, when my brother woke me up, we were both naked. He didn't say anything, just pulled me
up and pushed me into the bathroom to wash up.
When the cold water splashed on my face, I opened my eyes and saw my brother standing naked behind me, staring at my naked body.
I yelled, "Don't look!" and chased him out. When I opened the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel, my brother was already wearing
his school uniform and had prepared breakfast. While eating, I lowered my head, not daring to look at him; I knew he was watching me.
He said, "I got drunk last night, but I don't regret what I did. I meant it sincerely, I've fallen in love with
you. From now on, you're my girlfriend." I couldn't help but let him hold my hand
as we walked only letting go near the school.
I couldn't concentrate on class, waiting for recess. I checked my phone; a text message came in. My brother said, "I can't forget our first
Valentine's Day, and I hope there will be many more in the future." I read it, my face flushed, my heart pounding. Am I really
dating my brother? What should I do? He's my own brother!
I know that after we made love last night, our relationship has changed.
After class, when I met up with my brother, I told him, "We can't let Mom and Dad know about this, and we can't let anyone else
know ." My brother said, "This is between us, you know and I know."
From then on, we were like a couple in love. During recess, we'd send each other sweet text messages, sit
on my brother's lap, watch TV, and kiss. We'd make love several times a week, sleep together—our secret affair, unseen by others
, needed to be exposed to the sun and moonlight. I obediently let my brother treat me like his girlfriend
and take me on dates. What's it like to date? It's that smug feeling of being pursued by a guy.
Holding hands, sometimes he'd put his arm around my waist, and I'd lean on his shoulder, walking, shopping, taking selfies, but afraid of running into
acquaintances. On weekends, we'd ride our bikes a long way. I'd be behind him, hugging his waist, pressing my face against his
shoulder and back, and even pressing my breasts tightly against him.
I wanted him to accompany me to buy girls' things and give me his opinion, something he always thought was embarrassing.
I started buying him underwear, trying to match mine as much as possible. He didn't mind; that was something Mom used to do, and
now I was taking over. Since sleeping with my brother, I've started wearing sexy
underwear those thin-strapped, lace-trimmed styles that Mom described as provocative to men. I
wear them after dinner, and they make me feel refreshed and comfortable. Showing off a bit of cleavage and thighs to give my brother a visual treat isn't
a loss for me.
Doing laundry for my brother has given me a new feeling. When our matching underwear hangs together to dry, a
sweet smell rises up—that's something I do for my boyfriend, my brother. Being a couple isn't much different. But
I only want to be pursued by my brother, to date; I never thought about marrying him.
Our cohabitation is like everyday life, perhaps even more mundane than dating other men. Maybe it's because
we could have frequent sex from the start of our relationship with my brother, so we skipped some of the dating phase.
We're like siblings, no need for grand vows, we're already very close and trusting, no need for those mushy things—something we
wouldn't do with other girls in our class or under other circumstances. For the same reason, we openly dated.
Dating your own brother is exciting. We're together all day except for class, texting each other saying we
miss each other is too contrived. My brother said that before confessing his feelings, he did write me love letters, but never sent them.
Now that we've accepted our relationship, there's no need for them. I said, "Brother, you're taking advantage of your sister,
you've even saved the love letters." Fine, we'll save the sweet talk for bed.
Girls need to be pampered during sex. I always want to hear him say how much he loves me. I think
all lovers say those things. My brother tries hard to capture the feeling, crafting romantic phrases to say to me.
Listening to him makes me feel comfortable, my body goes limp, I'm free, I'd even be willing to let him undress me and touch me to my heart's content.
While we were still in school, sex became a part of our daily lives. We experienced multiple orgasms, and our hearts were satisfied and at peace
. We would sleep naked in the arms of our trusted and beloved relatives until dawn, and then go to school full of energy.

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