Awakenings-
1994
Being a teenager is difficult. It is a threshold—a beginning and an end. It is a time when a young woman is faced with desires she never before encountered, but only read about in the trashy romance books she would find hidden in her mother's lingerie drawer. It is a time when she becomes extremely embarrassed with all the attention she gains when her breasts—which were not there just one year ago—sway with unrestricted motion. Small tight peaks that were once nonexistent grow and round out to become erotic crests. Their reality is defined by unwanted, embarrassing, and yet oddly exciting attention. The teenage years are also a time of self-evaluation, when one soon realizes that adulthood is just around the corner and all the power that it entails is not only exhilarating, but also terrifying.
For Cynthia, the teenage years represented all of this and more. But most importantly, for Cyn, it was a time when those naturally developing feelings came together and collided with the visual and tangible form of her hard and muscular older brother, Michael. Michael was no longer an 'emerging adult.' He went through that awkward teenage stage a long time ago. He was 4 years older and at 22 he was also an endless resource of sexual fantasies for the walking teenage zit she currently was.
The fact that Michael worked out and kept himself in shape, a habit he got into during high school because he played every kind of sport available to him, helped, but it wasn't what truly attracted Cynthia. Rather it was more his quiet strength that appealed; It was knowing that he would always be there to handle things whenever he was needed; It was also his confidence and the fact that he rarely felt the need to prove himself to anyone. He was just such
a man
. Now she wasn't saying he was perfect, in fact he had a shit load of qualities that were fucked up, but overall he was a good person, and if nothing else, he was simply sexy as hell to Cyn. Intelligence mixed with confidence is alwayyyyyys sexy; at least, that was her opinion.
Michael had graduated college and lined up a decent job as a counselor/therapist for troubled youths at the local community center, Kids Town. It was a very large center within the heart of Chicago. He was planning on obtaining his masters in social work so he can practice psychology and help young adults deal with the heartache life has given them.
Throughout college, Mike lived with his girlfriend, Denise, but at the end of their academic career they decided to separate and end their relationship. He let her keep the apartment and moved back home until he found a new, affordable place closer to his job. He was only planning to stay a few weeks, but a few weeks was all it took for Cynthia's whole world to change. Up until this point all she had was a crush, but by the time Michael moved out, she had an obsession.
The first catalyst in the change happened on a Friday evening. She was coming out of her bedroom and went straight to the bathroom. The closed door hardly registered in her brain. It wasn't uncommon for someone to close a room door after leaving it, despite the fact it was no longer in use and almost every door in the house had a lock on it. Michael must have forgotten to lock it this particular time because she walked right in. A soft buzz floated through the air in a steady rhythm.
Her downcast eyes slowly traveled across the multicolored tile floor. They traveled up wet, hairy, muscular legs to thighs, to hips, hips, hips.... Her eyes paused there for a breathless second and she stood rigid with shock. She watched her brother carefully and slowly trim the hair surrounding his soft dick, which was resting quietly, as if sleeping in his hand, waiting to be awakened. Even in its relaxed state, his dick was several inches in length. She watched, awestricken, as the muscles in his arms flexed with the simplest of movements. His darken skin shined as moisture clanged to him, covering his body in a way that only filled her with envy.
His six-pack was taut and well defined; his nipples were actually rather large for a man and were surrounded with the hardness of his pectorals. His body was even more succulent than she could imagine. His face was intense with concentration; after all it was a very sensitive procedure he was embarking on. Soon the buzzing stopped and he placed the hair clippers on the sink's edge and then reached for the disposal razor, for a close controlled shave. It was the soft rasping sound that made Cynthia moan. It was the moan that caused his head to jerk up in surprise. Shocked, his watched his baby sister eyes become entranced with his dick.
Her eyes were locked onto his body. Though it was a surprise, it wasn't her presence that made him immovable with shock; it wasn't even the curiosity that was expected from one of such a tender age. It was something far more startling and unaccounted for-- it was lust. It was the desire in his baby sister's eyes that turned him into stone. It was the shallowness of her breathing as she watched him, as if he was her favorite chocolate moose desert at the expensive French bakery at the corner. It was the way her left eyebrow arched with speculation, bringing forth sinful thoughts and naughty images of actions no 18-year-old child should be aware of. It was the way her tongue curled around the upper corner of her lip, as if the taste of him was just beyond her reach, waiting to be savored. It was the yearning, the want, the decadence of her stare that completely and utterly held him captive, too surprised to move, to talk, or to respond to on a cognitive level. However, even though his mind couldn't actively acknowledge the silent messages this young girl was sending him, his body could. On an unconscious level, his body conceded and responded to the need clearly declared in the eyes of a woman.
She watched him as his flesh began to move, to change right in front of her eyes. She watched, as it hardened and moved like a serpent finding its way, to what, she didn't know. She watched as he absentmindedly began to stoke himself with his thumb. It was then that she moved forward and with that movement she released him from his prison. She moved closer to him as he turned to face her, doing the same. Startled, she paused and watched as he continued forward—tall, strong, hard and erect. She watched as he came closer with each step. Seconds turned into hours as she waited for him. She lost herself in the intensity of his brown eyes; eyes that stared deeply into hers as if seeing into her soul; eyes that had one purpose in mind—her. A rush of warm wetness flooded her panties as his hands reached for her, gripping her shoulders. Firmly, yet gently, he pushed, and together they moved. His body was close. Inches separated them, as he got closer; mere inches that didn't change as he simultaneously pushed her back. Away and away she went—until she was no longer in that small tiny space with him.
Now she was in the hallway. Alone. Silently, she watched. This time it was Michael doing the releasing. Dazed, she watched yet again, as he closed the bathroom door...
...directly in her face.
Hearing the lock click, she turned around and headed back in the direction from which she came. Closing her bedroom door, she dived head first onto the mattress. Burying her head into arms, she cried.
Michael leaned against the doorway of the bathroom and took a deep breath. His heart was beating so hard he thought it would break through his chest. His dick was harder than it had been in a long time. He still remembered in great detailed that look. For a second he forgot who he was and who she was in relation to him. Then he touched her and it all came back. He would like to think that he intended to push her away, but if he was honest with himself he had no idea what he was going to do as he started walking toward her. He could have just as easily pushed her up against the wall and took her, as he could have pushed her out the door. That was a hard reality that he didn't want to think too much about. In fact it was a reality he rewrote in his mind to be fiction. A new reality took its place because the other possible scenario didn't have a shot in hell of ever happening. One reason being she was his sister, someone he was suppose to protect whenever able. Second reason was he didn't fuck children, despite the fact that they were build like grown-ass women.
He picked up the razor to continue what he started, but he was so hard he became afraid. Shaking, he took another deep breath and placed the razor down. Gripped his dick from the base, he began to stroke. He had a date tonight with a young woman named Janet, whom he met at the club last week. It was she whom he pictured with each stroke. It was her soft voluptuous curves he thought of and her high, tight, round ass. Her long and slender legs would wrap perfectly around his waist. It was she whom he pictured—she whom he imagined fucking, because anyone else just wasn't an option.
***
