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Author’s note:
Please feel free to leave comments and feedback, love to hear what you think! I’m still fairly new to this.
I write in British English so some words and phrases may be different if you’re an American reader.
Thank you
***
She finally stepped out of the university building heading quickly toward the nearest Tesco Express to buy a ready meal. She was starving. Fridays were the worst days, two lectures back to back meaning four hours, in the same room, and so late in the day too! Whoever thought having a four-hour session between 2 pm and 6 pm would keep students awake and attentive clearly never studied in university themselves. Charlotte could barely stay awake, even if the lectures were interesting, the exhaustion of the whole week of lectures and seminars simply made it impossible to focus. Every time she made this walk between the university and the grocery shop she would check her phone for all the updates she missed in the past for hours. Today was no different, though she had a message.
“Hey, wanna come over after class? My flatmates all gone for the weekend, nobody to drink with and a whole tub of enchiladas to eat alone :)”
She smiled as she read the WhatsApp message from Harry, her older brother. He was 2 years older and was studying in the same university, while she was in halls of residence, he had moved out with some of his friends to a private house, closer to the town centre.
“Perf, exactly what I need <3" she responded, and turned back around, she wouldn't need to buy a meal after all. She could sure use a drink too. Though it was only 6 pm it was already getting dark, October autumn days were getting shorter as she settled into university. For someone like her, it was a terrifying experience. She was never any good with people. She found it hard to make new friends, but the ones she did make, would last forever. Both her and Harry were introverted like this, their father's genes, they always joked. This is part of why she got on so well with her brother, he really understood how she felt with her social anxiety, how frustrating it was. Since she arrived in Fenwich, she had met up with her brother three times now, the first time he was helping her move into her tiny accommodation room, the other two they ate out and had a drink together. She enjoyed spending time with him and was glad to have someone like him in this unknown town that she had never been to before. She wanted a change of pace from London, a quieter, smaller town, one on the coast, like Fenwich. The university here was small and so were the classes which helped her anxieties a lot, she felt like this past month, for the first time she was making progress in dealing with her anxiety. She walked through the cold streets, cars passing by, in her mind happy thoughts, on her ears her favourite songs playing from her phone as she entered the historical town centre. Looming above her ancient Tudor houses with modern shop displays at street level, she truly loved this town even though she only arrived a month ago. Her brothers flat was a newer building, part of an early 2000s development project for an empty lot. Nevertheless, it was still tight and small, your typical English house. She reached the door labelled 8 and pressed the bell a couple of times. She could hear from inside someone running down the stairs, then the click of the lock and her brother’s smiling face inside. He was a fairly handsome guy, though not particularly special. He was tall and decently built, he rarely worked out so he wasn’t very muscular but he had inherited his father’s naturally broad arms and that, was enough. His hair had grown long and now reached his neck, she thought it looked good on him. He had a light stubble on his face. He wore an old worn blue t-shirt, whatever was once on it was only a few tattered smears after hundreds of washes and a pair of grey jogging bottoms. He usually wore this kind of stuff, he wasn’t big on formal dress, especially around the house. “Hey you!” he exclaimed letting her in and hugging her dearly. She held him tightly around his body while he hugged her above her shoulders, she felt comfortable like this. “Come on, get off,” he said jokingly when the hug lasted longer than expected. “Enchiladas then?” he asked leading the way to the kitchen. “Please, God I am starving,” Charlotte answered hanging up her jacket and following in. The smell of tomato sauce and fried beef filled the air, Mexican spices and cheese all combined together to make that uniquely ‘enchilada’ scent. “Mmmmm” she noted as Harry pulled out the oven-proof dished filled to the brim with delicious bundles of meat and tomato sauce covered in a mountain of bubbling cheese. They ate together talking about how their days went. Charlotte talked about how boring her lectures were and how happy she was he offered to have a drink. “Oh damn, I was thinking wine but I think you could do with something stronger,” he smiled, “I have just the thing.” He walked over to the şişli escort corner of the room where an old early 2000s TV stood, beside it a collection of bottles. Some completely full, others almost empty, and several somewhere in between. Whiskeys, gins, vodkas, she could even spot a rum. He pulled out a bottle right from the back, it was full and unopened. Bringing it over to the table he showed her the label. It was in a language she couldn’t understand, large red serif letters reading ‘SOPLICA’, below them a picture of some apples. “It’s my housemate’s Polish vodka,” he exclaimed proudly, he brought it for me from his summer trip back home,” the liquid was yellowish and didn’t look like vodka at all. “It’s basically vodka infused with apples” he grinned more, placing two shot glasses on the table.
“How come you haven’t drunk it yet? Sounds like exactly your thing,” she was right.
“Ehh, I was waiting for a good occasion, I don’t want to waste proper alcohol on weekly binges,” he said twisting open the seal at the top with a crack.
“And today is what occasion?” Charlotte asked, laying back in her chair, her belly completely full of more enchiladas than she could have ever wished for, ready to receive an unhealthy dosage of Polish vodka.
“Well,” he began, “my sister’s come to visit,” he smiled genuinely, handing her the shot glass. “Cheers to more visits,” he said as they clinked.
“Cheers,” she repeated pouring the drink down her throat. It was smooth and mellow, and for a second she thought she might take it without grimacing, but she was not that experienced yet. Harry also couldn’t keep a straight face, it tasted good, but it was still vodka.
“Whooh,” he said, standing up, “that’s some good stuff there, let’s move to the couch,” he added and did as he said. Charlotte followed. The next couple of hours consisted of the two of them discussing increasingly more stupid matters, singing to cheesy 2000s and 2010s songs and trying to play cards as they got increasingly more intoxicated, stopping their activities every now and then only to pour another shot. They were both very tipsy now, verging on drunk.
“I didn’t know you could drink like this!” Harry exclaimed after they took another shot.
“You know just as well as me what a month at uni can do, even to someone as awkward and lame as me,” they both laughed in understanding.
“Awh come on, you’re not lame,” Harry said thoughtfully, “clearly you have friends who think you’re pretty cool if you’re still standing after how many shots?” he told her. She smiled without saying a word, it was true, she made great friends, but only because they found her, adopted by extroverts.
“Friends is one thing,” she said, the alcohol instead of making her thoughts go away, only intensifying the sad ones. Harry heard her and understood what she meant.
“But romance is another,” he finished for her, laying back on the couch next to her. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She was glad he did so, she didn’t want to think about her social anxiety now, in a state between sober and drunk. She knew it would only amplify the feelings of self-hate and guilt.
“Got that right,” she said, her head resting on her brother’s arm. He gently stroked her hair, it felt nice.
“Im on the same boat Charlotte, you know that,” he said, now also feeling melancholic. She did know, he was equally as inept as her when it came to all matters romantic. “But today is no day for sadness!” he suddenly shot up, picking up the bottle which was now almost empty he poured two shots. She smiled, he was right, now was not the time for this. Putting on a more cheerful song on the speaker, they clinked once again and took the shot. The second the liquor hit her stomach she knew she went too far. The incredible sensation of nausea rushing to her brain. Over the past weeks of freshers’ parties, she mastered the art of leaving the room inconspicuously. She stood up and stretched as though everything was fine when really she was on the verge of throwing up.
“Be right back,” she said walking casually out of the room, but power walking down the hallway. The second she got into the small downstairs bathroom she deposited her dinner and the past however many shots into the toilet. The stinging in her throat painful, the blood rushing to her head making her vision pulse. She flushed it away and ran the cold water tap on the sink. She splashed her face and looked herself in the mirror. She looked into her own blue eyes and saw the sorrow that lay behind those drunken eyelids. Her feeling of loneliness, the lack of someone to hold, someone to be with. Her long brown hair was slightly messy, she hadn’t noticed. She tried to smoothen it out but noticed her movements were sluggish, she really was almost drunk. As she walked back to the living room, stumbling slightly, she could feel her anxieties assaulting her mentally, playing with the alcohol still in her system, using it as a catapult to fire ever more painful thoughts her way.
Harry beşiktaş escort was on his phone, gently bumping to the rhythm of the music. When he saw her he offered for them to watch a film since they were out of drink, and it was probably a good place to stop anyway. She agreed and sat down. She didn’t know what film he put on, she didn’t care. She could only get more and more miserable from here.
“Harry,” she said suddenly, not thinking about it. He turned his tired drunken eyes her way. “Can I,” she thought for a moment, “can I ask your advice on something?” He sat up.
“Sure,” he said, “what’s up?”
“Well,” she began, thinking seriously, the alcohol playing tricks on her, ruining her perception and judgement. “I am really going to regret asking this tomorrow, but I’m pretty tipsy so fuck it,” she finally said. Harry laughed, he knew those kinds of talks, he’d been in uni for over a year now. She sighed deeply, taking her time. “Well you see, the thing is,” she stumbled, struggling to find the right words, “I’m really scared of,” her eyes wandering around the room as if expecting to find some sort of hint or clue. “I’m really scared of doing it,” she finished, looking into his eyes expectantly.
“Doing what?” he frowned, perhaps if he were sober he would have understood. Charlotte blushed and looked down.
“Sex,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper. Harry also blushed. Sex was an unspoken no-topic in their house. Nobody talked about it and everyone was happy with that agreement. Their parents didn’t want to know, and they were both too awkward to even know how to talk about things like that. Charlotte awaited an answer, though in her head she already regretted asking and was preparing to tell him “nevermind.” But he answered.
“Im scared too,” he said looking at her directly. “I’ve never, you know,” he continued awkwardly, she nodded, saving him having to say the whole thing.
“I thought you would’ve by now,” she said. She realised that perhaps that was a little mean, expectant, knowing how much her brother struggled just like her, but in this state, anything that came to mind would soon be on her lips.
“I would have thought so too,” he responded. His leg was tapping on the floor, his knee bouncing up and down. He was annoyed, she could see. “I just,” he started, “I don’t even know where to begin? Like, what do you say and do?” he spoke.
“I know right?” Charlotte replied in a tone of understanding, this eased him. “I’ve seen, you know, porn,” the last word uttered more quietly, “But, that’s not real is it,” she was waving her hands about as though this were a heated debate.
“Exactly,” Harry nodded in agreement. “It is really scary, just know I feel like that too,” he smiled kindly at her. “We’ll both find someone who’ll show us eventually,” he tried to sound reassuring but his tone was one of disbelief. He doubted himself deeply. Twenty years old and never so much as kissing a girl. “I don’t give very good advice do I,” he said awkwardly, Charlotte could see his eyes looking to the corner filled with alcohol.
“I hope I find someone as nice as you,” Charlotte said, a warm smile on her face. Harry smiled back, and slowly started laughing. She soon joined in, they were both laughing their lungs out for no reason. It all seemed so silly now.
“I don’t even know how to undo a bra, let alone do anything else,” he laughed. Charlotte joined in.
“You could try undoing mine if you want,” she said, realising only later how inappropriate that was.
“Eeeeew,” he responded jokingly, but at this point, the remainder of the alcohol had taken over, and she was not joking.
“No really, it’s easy, I don’t mind.” She stood up and kneeled on the floor in front of him. His face was suddenly serious. He looked down at his small sister. Her silk white shirt, her red checkered skirt, her beautiful glistening long brown hair.
“You’re not serious?” he asked, sitting up straight, returning to his senses.
“Why not?” she asked, though she herself was losing her own enthusiasm by the second.
“You’re my sister?” he asked in an almost offended tone.
“You won’t see anything, I’ll turn back,” she explained, “look.” On her knees she turned around, giving him a full view of her small yet perfectly round ass below her skirt, resting on the back of her feet which were covered in nylon stockings. Button by button her shirt got looser and looser eventually dropping to the floor revealing her bare back. She looked back at him over her shoulder. They were both beet red. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re uncomfortable,” she concluded. “I just thought, it would be helpful for you Harry, it’s really easier than you think, just try, I’ll hold my bra from the front.” She did as she said.
He was paralysed at first, his head felt as though it were going round and round on a carousel, he couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol, or seeing his sister like this, seeing her, body, finding her attractive. He could feel a terribly guilty and taksim escort wrong erection rising in his pants. What if she saw? His breath was laboured and staggered as he leaned forward in his seat. He was tipsy but the situation made him feel almost sober – if only it were true, perhaps he’d know better than to play this game. He put his fingers around the straps of her black bra. He inevitably touched her skin. Warm, smooth. This still felt so wrong. He gently unhooked the tiny hooks. It really was that easy. He released them and they fell to his sister’s sides, the bra staying in place thanks to the support of her hands.
“See?” she said, turning back her head, smiling, “easy right?” Harry nodded, he wanted this to end, this was too weird. He eyed the completely naked back of his younger sister, her perfectly smooth skin. He swallowed hard, his throat was completely dry. “Well?” she asked demandingly, “You have to hook it back up, I can’t do it myself while holding it,” it wasn’t over yet.
He reached his hands to pick up the straps, his right hand accidentally brushed the side of her beautiful small B cup sized breasts, he almost jumped. His dick was now completely erect, it felt so wrong. Keeping his composure, he hooked the bra back up, exhaling deeply.
“Charlotte this is-” he began, but he was cut off. She turned around. For a second his eyes saw the front of her body. Holy shit, he saw his little sister’s body in only her bra. He immediately looked away, up into the ceiling. “Charlotte what the fuck,” he said quickly, “Put your shirt back on.”
“In a real situation you’ll need to know how to unhook a bra from the front, without seeing the back,” she told him, shame in her voice. She knew this was too far, but perhaps, somewhere deep down, she enjoyed it. Besides, there was no harm in this. “Look, Harry, this is only weird if you make it weird, you don’t see me… that way, now do you? So there’s nothing to worry about,” she said, not thinking, the alcohol speaking for her. Many thoughts crossed his mind as his eyes wandered back, meeting hers. He was breathing heavily again. He couldn’t help but look at her beautiful breasts, perfectly round, and just the right size, perhaps a little too small. He reached in behind her back, their faces were close. As their eyes met like this they both turned red again. They could smell the alcohol on each other’s breaths. Looking away from each other’s eyes he continued, it was much harder undoing the hook like this, but he did it fairly quickly. But he wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t notice his sister wasn’t holding the bra. As he undid the hooks, he felt gravity pull it down, releasing Charlotte’s young firm breasts. For a split second, he could see them in full view. They bounced gently as they were released from the confines of the bra. Her small nipples, the complete and perfect roundness of her breast, he wanted to touch them but stopped himself. This was his sister.
She immediately rushed down, an expression of surprise and shame on her face as she quickly picked up her bra and replaced it, holding it in place. She clearly didn’t mean to drop it. Right?
“Oh my god Harry I’m so sorry,” she said, red as a rose. “I didn’t mean to drop it I swear,” she saw his eyes, she saw they remained on her breasts. “Unless, you, liked them?” she asked awkwardly. Harry’s face flushed again, but he didn’t say no. He regretted drinking, but how could have expected this. Nobody could have expected this.
Charlotte gently released her grip, letting the small bra fall to the floor. “They’re too small,” she said looking away. His eyes were glued to his sister’s beautiful young breasts.
He tried to speak but his throat was so dry he had to swallow first. “Don’t say that,” he said in a hushed tone, “I think-” he stopped himself realising what he about to say, but the alcohol removed any better judgement. “I think they’re beautiful,” he stated. If charlotte could blush any more, she would have.
“Really?” she said, smiling humbly. “Do you want to,” she stumbled, also breathing heavily, she too felt very wrong but was unable to stop herself, feeling a new sensation. Lust. “Do you want to, touch them?” She stood up. Harry stood up in front of her.
“This doesn’t feel right,” he said as though somehow this was an overstep, and their previous endeavours were not.
“You’ve never touched any before, right?” she asked, tempting him.
“I haven’t” he responded. He could feel his hands rising from his sides, reaching out the short distance between them. He looked to her for confirmation and saw in her eyes a strange look – but it gave him his answer.
His fingertips first felt the soft skin of her breasts. So springy, the perfect bounce, he was gentle at first. His touch on her breasts was like no other, she felt aroused for the first time. Truly aroused, not porn aroused, truly, naturally, desiring the touch of another. His large manly hands got more greedy, easily grabbing her entire breasts. They felt as though they were made for his hands, filling them, as he pressed on them oozing from between his splayed fingers. He began playing with her nipples. She let out a moan, startling them both. He was about to say something, perhaps finally draw the line, but she spoke first.
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