[This follows on from An Online Sin and A Physical Sin]
I spent a week or so in a daze, barely leaving my room let alone the house. I went through all sorts of emotions, including shame, guilt and disgust. But mostly I felt elation, I felt a buzz, I felt horny, I felt curious, I felt desperate to do it again. There was one obvious step up from the fuck in the nightclub toilet cubicle, and that was for me and Ben to fuck face-to-face.
How I could make that happen took up virtually all of my waking hours for that first week. I lay under the covers in my slobby PJs trying to play out in my mind a scenario that would work. Ben and dad assumed I was feeling unwell and I played along, moping around the house with a blanket wrapped around me. I was finding it difficult to engage in conversation with my brother. As soon as I looked at him I would get flashbacks of his cock in my face, of his cock in my cunt, of his cum drip dripping out of me on to that ceramic floor.
Towards the end of the week I booted up my laptop, and on checking my emails discovered 12 from Ben. I had totally forgotten that he would be bombarding 'Kate' with messages after her rather rude post-coital disappearing act. The emails started off in a perplexed and concerned tone, dipped briefly into anger, then tailed off into begging. The poor boy was smitten with her. And it was hardly surprising. Fucking any girl in a full-length PVC catsuit was mind-blowing, but he had got to do it with the girl of his kinky dreams.
I tapped out a short apologetic email, saying I had freaked myself out with my brazen behaviour and wanted to put some space between us. He replied as soon as he returned from work that night, understandably asking whether we would see each other again. I said I'd think about it. He was actually quite down. I felt a sisterly sympathy for him, quickly followed by an urge to have him fuck me. I had no idea how he would react if I told him the truth, and at that point the prospect of him disowning me was too much. But my craving for him was growing each day, to the point where I couldn't stand the thought of my boyfriend being with me. I called him in an effort to postpone his visit, telling him I was still sick. Ha fucking ha.
Not having seen me for over a month he turned up on the doorstep anyway. My face betrayed the horror I felt at him being there and he obviously knew something wasn't right. He stayed a couple of nights, suffering a cold shoulder as my 'illness' meant I wasn't in the mood for sex, and left abruptly one morning with barely a goodbye. The night before he had stayed up late and chatted to Ben downstairs over a few beers while I strained to hear from my door without success, tiptoeing back to my fake sleep when I heard him coming up to bed. The next morning he packed his bag and went home.
A weight lifted from my shoulders and I perked up immediately. That afternoon I decided to go shopping for a few hours, as I'd hardly been out of the house for the past week, and I shouted up to Ben that I would be back for dinner. He was still in bed.
I enjoyed myself, bought a few tops and magazines, some new make-up and got home around 7pm to find the house empty. Oh well, takeaway for me. Then Dad rang to say he wouldn't be coming home tonight. Yes! Go Dad! The twinkle in his voice said there was a special someone to blame for this. I told him I loved him and said: "Enjoy yourself!" Then when I got off the phone I realised it would be just me and Ben in tonight. Unless he was out all night, too.
I was unsure how to approach that kind of situation but, in the end, I didn't have to. By midnight there was no Ben and I sloped off to bed, fairly disappointed. I stripped off and clambered under the covers, dropping more or less straight off after all the nervous energy I'd expended in the recent days.
Hours later, I woke with a start. Ben was sat next to me. Was I dreaming?
"Sorry didn't mean to scare you," he slurred. Drunk. He smelt like he'd been swimming in vodka.
"Um. It's OK. What's up? ... Oh - Dad phoned he's staying out tonight, he's fine."
"No, no. It's not that."
"Oh, what then?" I was about to push myself up and sit up against my pillow when I remembered I was naked under the covers, so I just rolled over a little to face him.
"Mikey was pretty upset last night. He thinks you're having an affair."
"Oh."
"So... are you?"
"No."
"Do you want to know why he thinks you're having an affair?"
"Because I didn't put out for him this week?" I said sarcastically.
A snort, then an uncomfortable pause. "No, Jane. It's mainly because of the PVC catsuit he found in your wardrobe, the one that had been worn."
The blood drained from my face, my mouth dried up, my heart was beating wildly. There was a noise of some sort ringing in my ears. We were staring at each other in the half-light, but I couldn't see a thing. I felt like I was blacking out.
He shifted in his chair. "And I thought that was a coincidence, cos I pulled a girl wearing one of those last weekend. So I had a look at it today while you were out."