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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself."  I think it's  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.                   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Me and My Brother (F/M-teen, inc)
by Rachel (cerrillos1@aol.com)



	Something kind of "different" happened to me and my younger
brother last summer, and I have been told that other people around here
might have some interest in hearing about it.  So I have decided to share
it with you -- although I'm going to keep my full name to myself for now
if you don't mind, because I am not entirely sure if what happened crosses
the line of not being legal.  You notice that I am giving an email address
for replies, but it is simply a subaccount that I can cancel at any time,
without disrupting my normal email.  So please feel free once you finish
reading all of this to give your reactions, but I can't guarantee the
address will be good forever.  Anyway, I'm sure you're probably wanting to
hear the story now, so I'll start . . .

	First I should probably describe myself.  I am 22 years old,
living in New Mexico.  I went to school for nursing, and I am now an RN
(registered nurse) at a local hospital.  Maybe someday I will sit down and
write out some of the things that have happened as a nurse too.  Anyway, I
am about 5'6" tall, and 130 lbs more or less, depending on the time of the
year.  I have reddish-brown hair and green eyes.  I have always been very
athletic when I have time to be, and I pride myself on keeping myself in
pretty good shape.  And just so that it will kind of make the story make
sense later on, and so that you don't think I'm somebody overweight, I
will tell you that my measurements are 37d-24-35.  I think that that I am
maybe "cute", but I don't fool myself into thinking that I am super-model
attractive or anything.  I'm pretty happy with my eyes and my smile, I
guess.

	Okay, so enough of physical description.  I just mainly gave that
stuff so you would have a picture in your head as I tell the story.  As
for how the story begins, it starts with the fact that I had to move back
in with my parents about a year or so ago, because I was having trouble
making ends meet.  It is the same thing that has happened to a lot of my
friends.  My parents were really nice about it.  I got my old room back,
and I started paying a really small amount of rent that they could use to
put toward going on vacations and such, which suited them fine.  My
brother, though, wasn't as happy about it.  I should tell you that I have
two siblings -- one is a sister who is 20 now, and the other is a brother
who is 16.  Last summer, when I first moved back in, the sister wasn't
home, because she had just started college that year, and decided to stay
there and take some summer classes.  My brother though, of course, was
home (only 15 years old then), and he was pissed because he had been told
that he would get my room, the biggest room except my parents', as soon as
it was repainted.  He had been all ready to get some of his friends to
help him repaint it that summer.  But then I came back, and he lost out,
so he was pissed at both me and my parents, and moped around alot about
it.  I kept telling him it wasn't permanent, and that I'd probably be gone
again in less than a year, but he only kept saying, "Yeah, right."

	Okay, so that sets the scene, I guess.  Well, since I had last
been living in my parents house, they had added something to the den that
I fell in love with instantly.  Namely, a computer.  For years all through
high school I had always bugged my parents to buy a computer, and they
never had.  So of course they waited until after I moved out and got one. 
The surprising thing, though, was that nobody really used it much.  Not
even my brother, who said they were for "Brainiacs".  I think my father
uses it for the spreadsheet maybe, to plan out his finances.  And my
mother probably writes stories on it (she has an English degree that she
never really ended up using because she got married so young).  When I
asked them whether or not they could use it to get on the Internet, which
I had heard so much about by then, they said they didn't even know.  So I
took it upon myself to figure out exactly what the computer could do,
without really much help from anybody else.  It worked out kind of good,
because that whole summer, I was stuck working an afternoon shift, from
about 2pm to 10pm.  This meant I was always wired by the time I got home
(being a nurse and moving around alot and dealing with emergencies and
such does that), and so couldn't even think about falling asleep until 3
or 4 in the morning.  So I would mess around on the computer until then,
until I could finally crash, then wake up at noon and get ready for work
again.  So that's what I did for about 2 months straight, until my shift
changed.  Anyway . . .

	One of the things that was already installed on the computer,
which my parents didn't seem to know anything about, was a modem, along
with both America OnLine and Prodigy.  I bought my own computer a month
ago, and they were also installed on mine.  I guess they figure if it's
already there, then people will more likely give it a try.  Anyway, so I
thought to myself, "What the hell," and started up accounts with both of
them, using my own credit card.  In the beginning, I liked Prodigy most of
all, because I was fascinated by the chatting.  Actually, I guess
fascinated isn't the right word.  I was pretty much addicted for a while
there, and I blew more money than I care to admit in the first month for
both AOL and Prodigy.

	One thing I will admit, though, is that just like everybody else,
I right away got into the whole "romance" aspect of the thing.  Right from
the start, I never really chatted much with other women, but instead spent
alot of time flirting with guys.  I am the kind of person who has never
really been too shy about flirting in general, not even in public, but
there was something cool about being able to flirt as much as I wanted
online without any real reprecussions -- mainly because the guy I was
flirting with was usually over a thousand miles away, and so it was safe. 
No chance for getting raped or anything.  What surprised me, though, was
how soon my attitudes on things started to change.  At first, I reacted
better to guys that were "romantic" with me and worse to guys that were
totally sexually-oriented (with opening lines like, "want to sit on my
face?").  But after a while, I started to get bored with the romantic
ones, or maybe just a little frustrated -- because no matter how many nice
and romantic guys I met online, they were always to far away
geographically to do much about it, so what was the sense?  Now keep in
mind, I still don't care much for the total pigs out there who assume that
any woman on the Web is their own personal sex toy.  But I did end up
getting more interested in the guys who were clearly out for cybersex, but
who were at least classy about it, and who got to know me a little before
asking the inevitable, "So what are you wearing?"  In fact, after a few
weeks, I started to search those guys out.  I changed my chat name in
Prodigy from "HomeAgain" (which always felt safe to me, because it had no
gender to it) to "BustyRachel" (with a complete physical description in
the profile).  So of course, this earned me a lot of UNwanted attention
from the total pigs, but I learned a technique of just walking into a room
with that name, waiting for the IMs to start pouring in, then pulling out
of the room again.  Then I could sit there and weed through all the
idiots, until I found the guys who were more classy, and who I wouldn't
mind going to a "private" room with.

	Okay, so I won't get too much into the details of how I discovered
"cybersex" in this way.  Anybody who has read this far knows all about
that probably.  Instead, I'll explain how it gradually changed the way I
would dress when I was in front of the computer.  When I first started, I
would just come home and chat in my work clothes.  Then, as the summer got
hotter, and as I got more comfortable in front of the computer, I would
change into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt before I logged on,
keeping the bra and underwear on that I'd worn to work.  Then, as I
started to get into cybersex, I'd change just into the pants and tshirt,
with nothing underneath, so that I'd have "easy access" to things, so to
speak.  Then, before I knew it, I was changing into just my favorite blue
silk robe when I got home from work -- with nothing underneath.  That way,
all I had to do was untie one thin knot, and anything I needed to touch
would be right there.

	As for why I didn't just wear nothing at all, there was a good
reason for that.  As I said earlier, the computer was in the den, and the
truth of the matter is, the den has no door on it.  Also, my brother had a
tendency to fall asleep in the living room, while watching television.  My
parents didn't mind this as long as it was the summer and there was no
school, so he did it a lot.  Usually he would wake up around one in the
morning or so and crawl upstairs to his bed, but sometimes he would sleep
on the couch all night.  And the way the house is set up, there is a short
hallway that connects the den, the living room, and the stairs.  So that
means he has to walk right past the den to get upstairs.  Also, from the
couch in the living room where my brother watches TV, you can look right
down the hallway and see a profile view of whoever is on the computer. 
What saved me, though, is that for somebody watching TV, the den/hallway
is in the opposite direction.  So as long as my brother was busy watching
TV, he couldn't see me or what I was doing.  Besides which, he never even
usually lasted through the Letterman show.  So usually by midnight, I felt
pretty safe doing whatever.  But just to be sure, I would always go into
the living room, see that he was asleep, and turn off the TV.  That way,
the house would be completely silent.  So then if I heard him start to
move, or if I glanced over and saw any movement at all, I could quickly do
whatever I had to do to make it look like I wasn't doing anything to be
guilty about.

	So that's why I never went completely naked when I chatted. 
Because the truth of the matter is, besides just being generally
self-conscious about being caught doing such things, I was especially
self-conscious about my BROTHER catching me doing such things.  Or just
seeing me naked at all.  As it was, through much of my junior and senior
years in high school, he had been trying as hard as he could to peek at me
when I was naked.  More often than not, he never looked me in the eyes,
but instead, always at my chest -- which, in case you didn't guess from
the description above, is on the big side.  My parents have a pool, and I
can't count how many times in high school I caught my brother peeking out
at me from his room (which overlooks the pool) as I was swimming or
sunbathing.  At the time, I guess I was too naive to realize what he was
probably doing as he watched me, although I have a better idea now.  I
never realized until I started chatting with guys online that boys start
masturbating as soon as ten years old!  He even tried to hide in my
bedroom closet once, thinking he could watch me while I was changing.  But
I caught him, and he never saw anything.

	Back to last summer now.  One night, I came home from work, and
noticed that my brother wasn't in the living room, as usual.  But his
sneakers were.  So I figured that he had gone to bed early, as he did
sometimes.  Which was great for me.  At the time, I was starting to get
pretty hot and heavy with a guy from Missouri whose chat name was
"DraggingIt".  As you might guess, his claim to fame was that he was
rather well-endowed.  And the truth of the matter is, he really WAS. 
After chatting with him for about a week, and not really doing much of
anything, out of the blue one day he sent me a JPG.  Apparently he had a
polaroid camera and his own scanner.  The JPG was a straight frontal shot
of him, completely naked, with a piece of paper taped to his chest that
said "Hello Rachel" on it.  Surprised the hell out of me!  Not only that
he'd sent it, but that he'd been telling the truth when he said his penis
hung about 8 inches.  With the exception of a patient I'd seen once (a
different story for another day, it was certainly one of the largest I'd
ever seen.  After seeing it, it had me wishing I had a polaroid and
scanner of my own, because I wanted him to know that I hadn't been lying
about my own body, which I was fairly certain that he'd be happy with. 
Moreover, though, it made me wish I lived in Missouri!  Anyway, I had just
gotten that picture a couple days before, and we had still held off on
going too far with things yet.  But I had a feeling that tonight was going
to be the night.  So I quickly changed out of my clothes, into my robe,
and just as I thought, things quickly progressed from there.  Very
quickly.

	Within fifteen minutes, I had my robe open and my body exposed. 
With one hand, I would continue to type, while the other wandered across
my body -- squeezing my breasts, exciting my nipples, running my
fingernails along my stomach, fingering myself gently between the legs,
the usual.  I only detail all of that not so much to be pornographic as to
give you an idea of exactly what I'd been doing for about 20 minutes when
I suddenly heard a noise in the closet.  The closet in the den is where
coats get hung up, and it's one of those that has thin slats in the door
which tilt downward.  So if somebody where standing on top of something
high enough in the closet, it would be very easy to see what was going on
in the entire room.  For this reason, my sister and I used to use it as a
great hide-and-seek spot when we were kids.  And as you've probably
already guessed, there WAS somebody in the closet that night.  My brother.
 I heard something that sounded like two clothes hangers rattling against
each other, then a shuffling of feet, and then a quick breath.  I looked
over quickly, and suddenly everything got quiet again.  Because there was
no light in the closet, and because I guess he was standing far enough
back, I couldn't actually see anything, but I was pretty sure he was
there.

	I stood up quickly, not bothering to shut my robe, rushed to the
closet and opened it, and sure enough there he was.  In all his glory.  He
was standing on top of a milk crate from the garage, wearing a tshirt,
with his shorts down around his ankles and his dick in his hand.  Which is
about what I expected to see.  What I hadn't really expected, though, was
that his dick would be as big as it was.  I mean, I expected it to be
hard, but not hard AND big.  I couldn't tell just how big it was at first,
because it was in his hand, but as I threw the door open, he lost his
balance, and quick used his hands to try and support himself, which left
his dick just pointing straight out at me.   7 or 8 inches straight out!!!
 And so there he was once he got his balance, holding on to the door jamb,
on top of a milk crate, his penis jutting straight out, on a level with my
chest -- bare at the time, of course -- and me not sure yet how furious to
be, but pretty furious all the same.  But the first thing I knew was that
I was mad at him for peeping at me from inside that closet, and so I
wanted him OUT of the closet right away.  It wasn't a rational thought, I
guess, but it was the first thing that came to mind.  Also, I was angry
(while at the same time strangely excited) at that big stupid thing
between his legs that was poking at me, and that didn't have enough sense
to go limp now that it was in danger.  So I did the first thing that came
to mind -- I just grabbed it like it was a handle and yanked hard.  My
brother fell instantly out of the closet and -- what I didn't expect --
right on top of me.  Well, not quite on top of me, because I didn't fall
down or anything, but his body pretty much collided with mine.  I let go
of his thing and threw up my hands to stop it from happening, but not in
time.  And when he threw his hands up to do the same, they conveniently
(by his intention, I'm sure) landed right on my breasts. His dick,
meanwhile, as it hit me, first poked my stomach, then kind of slid down to
my thigh, and was just inches from touching me you know where.  Once he
was on the ground and stable, I pushed him away, and the two of us just
kind of stood there looking each other in the eye -- me angry and him just
clearly terrified for having been caught.  A few seconds later, we heard
my father's voice at the top of the stairs, "Rachel, is everything okay
down there?"

	"Fine, Dad," I told him, and he went back to bed.  Then I suddenly
saw a strange expression on my brother's face -- one I had seen on other
men's faces before, at a very specific moment.  And before I could even
look down, I felt his warm cum hit the underside of my breast.  And as I
did look down, I saw him stroking his cock, and saw the cum jet out again,
this time hitting me a bit higher up, on one of my nipples, and then again
on my stomach and once on my thigh, before I finally thought to take a
step backwards.  The next shot hit me on my foot, and the rest landed on
the carpet.  Unreal, I thought, as he immediately started to apologize. 
"I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm really really sorry.  I just couldn't --"

	"Save it," I told him, and closed my robe.  Without saying
anything else, I went and turned off the computer, not even saying goodbye
to the guy in Missouri, and started to leave the room.  Then I stopped,
and turned around, and said, "One -- you clean that up," and I pointed to
the cum on the carpet.  "Two -- if you EVER do something like that again .
. ."  But I didn't say anything else.  Besides, I wasn't even sure what
kind of threat I could make.  Truth to tell, he could easily get me in
just as much trouble as him if he told my parents what I'd been doing on
the computer while they slept.  Still in all, I was pretty sure he would
take the threat seriously.  After that, though, it was kind of a moot
point.  The whole scene was so weird that I just kind of stopped chatting
for a while.  And before I could pick it back up again, I started to date
one of the doctors at the hospital.  A few months later, my monetary
situation improved (especially because I wasn't chatting anymore), and I
moved out again.  Not surprisingly, though, as soon as I stopped chatting,
my brother started.  So now, as far as I know, instead of staying up late
watching TV, he stays up late on Prodigy.  Maybe one of these days, I'll
sneak into the house before HE logs on, and hide in the closet.  Then I'll
know for sure.

P. S.   Sorry if some of you were expecting some lurid story about incest
or something.  Although I must admit that in hindsight, after the anger
went away, I do get a certain amount of excitement out of remembering what
happened, the truth of the matter is, he's my BROTHER, for god's sake. 
Even if I was sexually attracted to him -- which I'm really not, no matter
how big he is -- that's still just a line I'd never even consider
crossing.  I just felt that there was a certain funny amount of sexual
tension and borderline "taboo" to the story that others might enjoy
hearing about it.  If I led anybody to believe something more extreme
would happen, then I'm sorry.  You'll just have to use your own bizarre
imagination for that kind of stuff.  Or find it elsewhere.  This is all
you get from me.   : )


