Morning Wood

Chapter 2: Cleansing Shower

Time passed around Art but he didn't notice. The water grew cold, but he was already numb all over. After a while there was a knock at the door, he ignored it, or maybe didn't hear it. Guinne leaned against the bathroom door; he had been in there for hours. She sighed and knocked again, but there was once more no reply so she gave up.

"Art?" Guinne called through the door, but silence was her only answer. She wasn't sure if he was ignoring her, or simply hadn't heard her. She called out to him a few more times and continued knocking. He didn't respond though and she knew he wasn't going to. Finally, she reached out and tried the handle. He hadn't locked it in his haste, so she turned it and walked in.

His sister approached him, reaching out and shutting the water off, picking up a towel and hanging it over him, covering his nudity. It wrenched her heart to see him sitting there in that state. Had it been wrong? Well, obviously yes, in some ways, but not this much, it couldn't be so wrong as to break her brother like this. Guinne wanted to wrap him up in her arms, and cradle him like a child. Instead, she sat on the toilet, looking at him in the shower, practically comatose.

"Art, you need to talk to me. You're scaring me."

At first she didn't think he was going to respond, minutes passed and finally he turned his head up, so he was looking at her. "I'm scaring you?" he finally asked,"What are you doing to me? 'Seducing me?' Why, Guinne? What made you do this? It's not right. You know it's not right."

"Why isn't it right? Because society says so? Because if we had kids they could be retarded? It's not like I want your babies, Art, and who cares what society says? Don't you love me? Didn't you like that? I know you think I'm attractive, I've seen you look on occasion. I think you're handsome, and if we're not having kids then what does it matter Art? Can't we just love each other?"

He didn't know what to say to her, part of him agreed, but part of him protested. What did society matter though? And no, they weren't planning to have kids from this, or well, she didn't seem to, and he didn't want any. But what if there was an accident? A broken condom, a pill forgotten, it happened... And then what if society found out that his sister was having his baby? Or that he was sleeping with her at all? God, what was he even thinking these things for? This was wrong. It might not be society's business, but they would try to make it their business if they ever found out. Since he didn't know how to respond, he just didn't, just sat there. He shifted a bit so that the towel covered him better.

"Art, I've wanted this for years. It's not like I just woke up today and saw you and decided 'what the hell.' I used to watch you, in the morning, when you'd lay in bed and masturbate. Every morning, just before your alarm went off you'd toss your covers aside, and grab that bottle of lube you kept between your nightstand and bed, strip off your night clothes. Some mornings you'd just lube up and go at it. I assume you'd fueled it enough in the night that you didn't need any help other than your imagination. Other times you'd pull out one of those magazines you kept hidden beside your bed, and look through it as you worked at yourself. I saw it all, even the stuff you're probably embarrassed about." Guinne grew silent for a moment, looking at him. He was staring at the wall and she could see both arousal and a glimmer of revulsion in his eyes at this revelation of hers.

"I started watching you a long time ago. I had to pee one morning and I heard you making noise, so I peeked into your room. You were facing away, and didn't see me. You had a magazine out and were bent over it, your hand moving along your length. I had never seen anything like it, seeing your dick hanging down between your legs. It made me weak in the knees, I didn't know it then but it made me so horny. I watched until you came and when I scurried away fearing you'd see me, I discovered that my panties were soaked. I had only just started having my period, and something told me that I shouldn't ask mom about it. I didn't have anyone else to ask either, none of my friends knew anything, I did talk to them about it kind of; never telling them I'd seen you, just asking questions. But they didn't have any more idea of what it all meant than I did."

Art was still staring at the wall, she knew she was babbling, but it had to come out.

"I started to figure some things out; I would sneak into your room when you weren't home and look at the magazines. I didn't really understand at first; I thought it was some kind of guide. The pictures of men and women touching themselves made me wonder. I figured that was what you looked at. Like it was some kind of training guide for masturbation and sex, though I didn't really know what sex was at the time. I liked the money shots the most; I didn't know what they were. I just knew that you always sprayed that white stuff out, and I wanted so bad for you to get it all over me. Like the guys in the pictures did.

"I started sneaking into your closet before you woke up, watching you through the slats, and after a while beginning to play with myself as well. I didn't have orgasms at first, but it still felt really good, so I did it. Leaning back, watching you play with your cock; I'd rub and rub at myself.

"You almost caught me the first time I came; you had been taking extra long that morning. I was really getting into it, imagining my own hand in place of yours, and yours in place of mine. I had started to realize more about sex and masturbation by that point, so I knew that it would be better with your help. I watched you cum, and then all of a sudden it was like an explosion went off in my pussy and I moaned and I think you heard me, but mom had started to yell for you to hurry up and get in the shower. You'd taken so long getting off that you were going to be late for school. You rushed out to take a shower and so you must have forgotten that you'd heard me."

"I thought I had imagined it." Art finally spoke in answer to that, glancing at her now, watching her instead of the wall, but still looking somewhat disturbed by it all. But the story was drawing him in, and he was looking at her as she continued to speak.

"I thought maybe that was the case, though I'm surprised you even remember it." She said it softly, peering back at him, "Do you understand this, Art? Do you understand that you introduced me to sex? You are the only man I have ever really wanted. Later I learned about incest, that it was wrong, but it just stopped me from trying more, I still watched you. Hell, I came with you the morning you moved out of mom's house.

"Before today, that was the last time I had seen you naked, seen you cum; it's been agony. It's been nearly six years since you moved out, Art. But each morning I've lain in bed, fingering myself and wishing to God I could watch my brother stroke his hard cock; thinking that perhaps you were doing that in your dorm or here in your apartment. Last night when I came over I wasn't really drunk, I was faking it so you'd let me crash here. And this morning I snuck into your closet to watch. I had just planned to spy on you; I just had to see that lovely cock again. But then you didn't just lie in bed jerking off, you got up. I thought you had stopped doing it, but as I watched you leave I realized you were just no longer restrained by living with our parents. It thrilled me, watching you wander around your house naked.

"I thought for a moment that perhaps you would go to your spare room, where I was supposed to be sleeping. Why else would you be so free? I thought maybe you had known all these years, and now were going to make a move. But I realized that you had simply forgotten that I was here and so I interrupted you. I broke past my own fears and hoped that you would break past the taboos with me, because I wanted you so bad."

"You know what happened next, you were there with me." She fell silent then; her tale of lust and incestuous desire there before him.

He watched her, not saying anything. Her story played over and over in his mind. Things in the past that he had written off to his imagination; sounds in his closet as he masturbated, looks from his sister that had seemed lustful; times when she had brushed against him in a way that suggested wanting more than just a hug or a kiss on the cheek. A part of him said to banish her from his home; tell her to go and never return. Pretend today had never happened, that she had never touched him, never seen him, to just put it all out of his mind. He knew it wouldn't work though; he couldn't banish her from his mind, even if he did banish her from his home. She had invaded his mind.

"Guinne, please go so I can get dressed." He looked away from her as she stood and left the bathroom. Quietly he pushed to his feet, using the towel she had draped over him to dry off. Pulling on his robe and hurrying to his room. He stopped with the door shut behind him, leaning against it. He looked around his room, and his eyes stopped on his closet. He knew Guinne wasn't in there, but he moved there anyway pulling it open and looking inside. She wasn't there. He sighed and walked to his bed, laying down on it.

His whole world felt like it had been turned inside out and upside down, and then shaken, vigorously. He ran his hands through his hair; he didn't know what to do. He wanted to go to her and press their lips together, to hold her and be with her and know her as a man knew a woman. She was an adult, in her early twenties, she had made the choice to touch him, had offered herself to him. It wasn't like he had somebody in his life; he had only ever had one relationship last more than a couple months and that had been just after high school. Years ago now. His love life was a string of one night stands and meaningless relationships; internet dates and hook ups at clubs and bars. He had never related well to any woman. That wasn't entirely true though, he had always been able to talk to his sister, had related to her as a person. Which just brought him back to the question: Why not?

She was right; he did love her. They had always been close as children and as she was growing up he had always been able to talk to her. They shared interests and had been friends all of their lives. Had all that been a ploy by her, though? Now he wondered about it, about every interaction he had ever had with her. He lay there for awhile, until finally he pushed it all from his mind. He couldn't let this ruin what he did have with his sister; she was still his friend. Did he want more than that though? More than just a friendship between brother and sister?

He sighed and pulled on his clothes, his mind still going over all that had happened this morning. The 'beep-beep' of his phone cut through his thoughts though and he lifted it, voice mail. He flipped it open and dialed his voice mail, listening for a few moments. It was his boss; Art hadn't gone in this morning. He glanced at the clock on his phone. It was already past noon; he'd sat in that shower for hours.

"Fuck." Moving to the door as he called his boss, luckily his schedule was flexible so it wouldn't be a big deal. They had only called to check on him as he usually came in early and left late. But he was a graphic designer, and technically he set his own schedule. "Hey, it's Art. Yea I'm fine, just had a minor emergency with my sister and I didn't think to call. I'm gonna go ahead and take the day off. I'll work Saturday, I don't have any plans anyway. No, no, nothing to worry about she just got a little too drunk last night and I had to drive her back to her dorm this morning so she could get to class on time." He was descending the stairs quietly; almost afraid he might run into her. "Alright, well, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hung up his phone, sliding it into a pocket and glancing around at the bottom of the stairs; there was a short hallway with the kitchen at the end, his living room off to the left through an arch, and a door to the bathroom to his right. The stairway also looped around to his right and went down stairs to the garage entrance and front door.

Guinne was probably in the living room, waiting for him. He took a slow steadying breath as he walked toward the living room door. She was there, sitting on the couch. She had changed, no longer in just panties and a baby-t. He was thankful he didn't have that reminder of this morning. She was now wearing a black tank top with 'So Say We All' across her breasts, with a pair of jeans and sneakers. He realized she must have been wearing them in the bathroom, but he hadn't noticed.

"I'm gonna make some lunch, do you want something?" He hoped that he had sounded 'normal' but feared that he still sounded a bit shaken.

She nodded to him, "Sure," gazing at him, trying to decide if he was freaking out or not. He nodded and turned away from her, moving down the hall to the kitchen. She watched his back as it disappeared; should she go to him? Or just let him be for now?

She decided against following him. She looked around for a moment. Her book, the new Rowling title, lay face down on the coffee table waiting for her to scoop it up. She had been trying to read it since he had stormed off to the shower, but her thoughts were distracted and she couldn't usually remember what she had read, so kept reading the same lines over and over again.

Guinne knew she'd just end up doing that again, so she put the bookmark in it and set it on the table once more, staring down at her hands. She could hear Art in the kitchen cooking; he would make a grand lunch, she knew. Art liked cooking, and everything he cooked was a production whereas she would have been fine with a sandwich or something, but she knew this would at least help calm him down. She looked around from object to object, finally reaching out and lifting the remote from the coffee table, turning on the television and leaning back. She flicked around the channels until she found some Battlestar Galactica reruns and left it there.

Guinne shifted, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up under her, trying to get into the show, but her mind was still elsewhere. She was thinking of Art, whether or not she had gone too far? Was this going to ruin their relationship? She loved him, like a brother and more, but she didn't want to lose their friendship. He had always been there for her, had always listened when she needed somebody to talk to. He had always been a part of her life, with him being six years older than her, she had never known a time in her life when he wasn't there.

After their father had left when she was twelve he had in some ways taken on that role, being both dad and brother. She had already started her sexual fixation by then, he had just graduated from high school, was starting college. But even with all the school work he'd had to do, he'd always found time for her. He always took the time to make her feel special, loved, even if their father had flown off to Germany and didn't want them anymore.

Guinne looked up at the doorway to the hall; she couldn't let him push her away, so with a soft sigh she got up from the couch and headed down the hall to the kitchen. He was at the stove, he had some chicken grilling on it, focaccia bread was laid out on the counter. So he had ended up making sandwiches after all. But even those were a production for him; vegetables, special cheeses and sauces; grilled chicken, even his special bread for them. She smiled a bit at it; she leaned against the counter a few feet from him, careful to not block his path from the kitchen this time, she didn't want him to feel trapped.

"We can pretend it never happened, if that is what you really want," Guinne said the words softly, carefully, looking down at her feet, the black toe-socks on them, her eyes avoiding looking at him. "I don't want to lose what we have, I love you Art, and while I want more, if you don't I will respect that and find a way to move on."

Art didn't answer right away, just turned the chicken over, setting slices of cheese atop them to melt, shutting the stove off. He didn't know if he wanted that, he had tried telling himself that he did, but he knew it was a lie. If he didn't want her he wouldn't have let her do what she had done that morning. He turned around looking over at her, her red hair cascaded down her head, framing her face, its ends touching her shoulders, but going no farther. Her eyes were green, like their father's had been, beautiful and large and full of all her emotions. He saw her own struggle in them, her love for him and her desire not to lose him. Her thick and rather luscious lips were in a faint grimace, resting beneath her slightly up turned nose. He had thought dirty thoughts about those lips before... he had once beaten up a friend for saying she had dick-sucking lips, but he knew it was true.

"I don't want to forget what happened," he finally whispered. At first she wasn't even sure he had spoken, but then the words clicked in her head. He didn't want to forget? Did that mean he wanted more? Her lips formed an encouraging smile as she looked at him.

"Me either," she said, looking into his eyes. Art saw the hope blossoming in her eyes, she wanted to reach out and grab him, hug him to her chest and kiss him all over. She stood still though, just looking at him; he had to make these moves for now, she knew that.

"I am not saying I think it should ever happen again, or anything at all should happen, but it did, and I can't forget it. I-" he stopped struggling with the words in his mouth, trying to make them say what he felt, but unsure how. She wanted to pipe in, but she waited, still knowing he had to lead this for now.

"I ... I liked it," the words took effort. He knew it was true, but he also knew it shouldn't be. He spun around and lifted the pan from the stove, using the spatula to place the chicken onto the rolls; they were already slathered in curry mayonnaise and a little dill mustard. He added lettuce, sliced tomato and mushrooms to both, adding a little caramelized onion to his own, knowing Guinne didn't like onions. She just watched him, that faint smile still touching her lips.

"There is Pepsi in the fridge, why don't you grab two and we'll go into the living room to eat, I think I hear Starbuck," he waited holding the plates as she grabbed the two drinks and then led the way toward the living room. He couldn't help but admire her backside, the pleasant heart shaped bubble of it.

Art knew that he did want her, she had awoken that desire in him, but he wanted to repress it. He knew it had always been there, down inside him, being hidden away, denied. He couldn't do that anymore, and it was pushing its way out, trying to get him to do more. He pushed it back down though and set their plates on the coffee table, sitting down and looking over at the television. He took the Pepsi she offered and opened it, taking a long drink and then setting it on a coaster. He tried to ignore the pleasant feeling of her thigh against his as she sat down.

They ate in silence for the most part, though she complimented his cooking. They watched the television show, it finished as they finished their lunches and he leaned back, looking over at her as she sat there. Her own head turning to look over at him, they needed to talk more, he knew that, but he also wished they didn't have to.

"We have to figure this out today Guinne, I called in that I wouldn't be coming to work, so I have all afternoon. I want to have this off my mind by tonight, I can't be distracted by it at work, people will wonder what's up."

Guinne nodded to his words, shifting her bottom on the couch and turning so she was looking at him, her body directed at him. "I already know what I want Art, no amount of talking will change that."