Long text but I hope you enjoy my slow burn of a story.

In the crisp early winter of 2015, a sense of liberation filled my spirit as I found myself finally free from the clutches of college. Like many young women of my age, just stepping into the realm of adulthood at 18, conventional paths beckoned me to study abroad or seek local internships in bustling Boston. Yet, after enduring a grueling semester, all I yearned for was a moment to exhale, to step back and contemplate the myriad of possibilities that lay before me.

That afternoon, I found solace in a lengthy conversation with my dearest friend. She, ever the adventurer, extolled the wonders of Spain and urged me to join her there. However, at that moment, the desire to embark on a journey did not stir within me. Allow me to offer a glimpse into my world. Having moved to North America from Syria, I had forged a life here, while my step-brother (Jacob), who followed my footsteps some years later, chose a different path by enlisting in the army. Our discussions had become sparse, reduced to sporadic exchanges on online. Wherever he was stationed, it seemed as though a veil of secrecy shrouded his experiences, a consequence of the responsibilities that his role entailed.

Our bond, never particularly strong during our upbringing in Syria, suffered the limitations imposed by a society where girls and boys grew up in distinct realms. We, girls, were raised under the nurturing care of our mothers, while the boys... well, they found their upbringing within the untamed embrace of the streets.

Thus, it came as a surprise when my phone buzzed with an incoming video call, a sound I hadn't heard from Jacob in years. And there he was, on the other end of the line, announcing his return home for the winter. He had secured a job closer to Washington, D.C., and yearned to spend some cherished time together. Eagerly, I embraced the opportunity, certain that he carried within him a treasury of stories that begged to be told.

Our family owned a residence in Connecticut, a place that lay dormant for most of the year as my studies took me elsewhere, Jacob's military service kept him far from its comforts. Over the weekend, I embarked on a bus journey, my final destination being this deserted haven. Newport, a town both vibrant and tourist-filled during the summer months, had succumbed to a state of desolation in the winter chill. As I settled into the solitude of the family home, I pondered my next course of action.

Restlessness tugged at my bones, and after a few hours alone, I made the impulsive decision to embark on a run toward the wharf. It was a familiar route, one I had traversed countless times. However, this time, I bundled myself up, bracing against the cold. With each step, the crunch of my feet resonated in the hushed surroundings. Soon enough, I realized my attire had been an overzealous choice, for by the time I completed my 5-kilometer jaunt, my body glistened with perspiration, my long curly hair clung to my flushed cheeks. All I desired was to shed the cumbersome layers and allow my body to breathe.

Within the confines of my empty abode, I had no qualms about embracing my nudity. As I peeled off my damp socks, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Having recently turned 18, I had a newfound pride in how my body that had blossomed. As a child, I had always harbored a sense of longing, envying the voluptuous beauty that seemed to grace the women in my family, while I remained devoid of curves and contours. Yet, over the past two years, a remarkable transformation had taken place. My cascading curly locks draped gracefully over my shoulders, framing my beautiful C-cup breasts with their delicate nipples. A shapely, dimpled posterior had emerged, a testament to the fact that I had finally grown into my own skin. In that moment, I reveled in my newfound confidence and the exhilaration it stirred within me.

The desire to cleanse myself under a cascading shower beckoned, but so did the impulse to wash my sheets and make my bed anew. After all, Jacob wouldn't arrive for another day. Consequently, I surrendered to the plush comfort of my awaiting bed, succumbing to a whimsical game that I cherished playing whenever solitude engulfed me and time seemed to stretch indefinitely.

Lying naked on my best I grabbed the sheets from both ends and slowly moved them up my legs simulating a gentle caress, as the minutes passed I could feel the hair on my body raise from the sweet torture, I slowly continued the movement, slowly, torturously upwards until the sheets slid between my pussy lips. I squirmed in excitement, the moistness of my most intimate parts drenching the sheets, I continued the movement until my clit started vibrating like a string on a cello, my soft inner lips the bow, slower and faster until my whole body convlused into an orgasmic mess ... my eyes which until that moment were shut suddenly opened wide to a silhouette in my doorway.

I looked up, and there he stood, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his eyes locked onto mine. "Hello, sis," he uttered, his presence catching me entirely off guard. In a flurry of disbelief, I hastily snatched the sheets and wrapped them around my vulnerable form. With a hearty chuckle, he turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving me engulfed in a tidal wave of embarrassment. All I could manage were gasps of "Oh my God, oh my God," as I struggled to regain composure. He glanced back at me, his military dress uniform adorned with a symphony of decorations and insignias, their jingling notes echoing through the empty house.

Overwhelmed by shame, I bolted towards the sanctuary of the bathroom, my voice exploding in a scream directed at him. "Couldn't you have given me a warning that you were home?" His response echoed through the door, his words carrying an air of innocence. "I had no clue you were home. The door was locked, and I assumed you were out." Pressing against the bathroom door, my back damp with perspiration and flushed with humiliation, I slowly eased it open, ensuring the path was clear. He had vanished into the depths of the kitchen, affording me a moment to scurry back to my room, clutching a set of fresh clothes before diving into the sanctuary of the shower. My mind churned with questions. How much had he witnessed? How could I ever face him after he had seen me in such a vulnerable state?

Once I finished my shower, I stood there, waiting for my racing heartbeat to calm. After dressing myself, I left the confines of my room and made my way toward the kitchen, feeling like a scolded puppy caught wetting the rug. Jacob stood at the stove, quietly preparing a meal from the groceries he had brought. Though his movements were silent, a lingering grin adorned his face. Seated at the long wooden kitchen table, my gaze fixed upon his back, it struck me how much he had changed. It was as if he had grown an inch or two taller, his uniform perfectly tailored to his muscular physique. This was not the child I had grown up with; before me stood a man who had traversed the battlefield of war. The thoughts of my earlier predicament had faded into oblivion as I marveled at the transformation before me. In that moment, I couldn't help but yearn for a man like him – strong, self-assured, and brimming with vitality, driven by a passion for his endeavors. Many men my age still clung to their youth, unaware of the impact their presence could have. The realization washed over me that, despite being family, we were, to a large extent, strangers to one another. He initiated the conversation with casual banter, skillfully setting me at ease. He inquired about school, about my experiences growing up on the East Coast. Having been stationed in various corners of the globe, he surely possessed a wealth of stories to share. Yet, his genuine interest seemed to lie in me, as he attentively listened and engaged. The conversation flowed on, stretching into the depths of time, and I found myself rambling on about topics that likely held little interest for him. Sheepishly, I apologized for my verbosity, but he insisted I continue, urging me to share more. It was as if the distance that had separated us for all those years had created a void within him, and he yearned to bridge that gap, to catch up on the lost moments.

I felt relieved when it became apparent that he had no intention of teasing me about our earlier encounter. After dinner, he mentioned that he had turned on the heated pool outside and planned to unwind for the evening. The early flight had left him jet-lagged, and he desired some time to disconnect. He asked if I had any plans for the rest of the week, such as going skiing or anything else. I replied that I had no set plans and was open to anything. "Great," he said with a smile. We finished our meal, during which he patiently listened to my ramblings. I retreated to my room afterward, eager to catch up on reading and respond to missed messages from friends. After a few hours, I heard the patio kitchen door open, signaling that he had made his way to the heated pool. Curiosity gnawed at me—I mean, he was my step-brother—but I couldn't help but wonder how years of military training had shaped his physique. Without second thought, I searched for my bathing suit, only to realize I had forgotten it back at my dorm. Well, damn...

Left with no alternative, I settled for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Determined, I made my way to the patio. The sight that greeted me weakened my legs. There he sat on the edge of the pool, his shoulders broad and his torso resembling that of a sculpture. A smirk, again, danced across his lips as he motioned for me to come closer. "Why aren't you in?" I inquired, unable to resist. He smiled and met my gaze. "I was never fond of cold water," he replied. "But it's getting there, just a few more minutes." I chuckled at him, teasing, "Mister tough guy, mister military, afraid of a bit of cold water?" He looked away, and something compelled me—I don't know why—to simply jump into the pool. His laughter filled the air as he swiftly moved away to avoid getting splashed. "Come on," I beckoned, coaxing him into the water. He regarded me with a different expression, his eyes glancing at my figure outlined against my light tan skin. The water was freezing, and with no bra on, the contours of my body were unmistakable. "You've grown up, sis," he remarked, causing my cheeks to flush crimson. Although we had not shared much closeness during our upbringing, in that moment, there was an undeniable chemistry between us that was difficult to ignore. I playfully tempted him to join me in the pool, fueled by a newfound audacity. God, I don't know where I found the nerve to do it, but I simply wanted to see him in the water. It took a few minutes of laughter, but he eventually made his way in, taking his time with a mischievous smile. I warned him that I would splash him if he didn't hurry, but he replied with a smirk, assuring me that he would take his own sweet time.

I couldn't resist the urge, and I splashed him playfully. His laughter filled the air as he finally joined me in the water. For a fleeting moment, I glimpsed the outline of his... well, you know, against his swim trunks—the water tracing a captivating silhouette. After a few minutes of joyfully splashing each other and sharing giggles, he began to open up about the challenging years he had endured in the military. He spoke of the hardships faced, the long nights spent in distant lands that were nothing more than dreams to me. The weight of his experiences washed over me, and at a certain point in his storytelling, tears welled up in my eyes. What he had endured over the past years felt as if it could encompass several lifetimes. I felt a twinge of embarrassment for discussing my trivial stories earlier, but he reassured me that it provided him with a sense of normalcy.

He invited me to accompany him that night, and after leaving the pool, we dressed up and ventured out to our favorite spot in town—the Blue Parrot. The night unfolded with excitement as we mingled with the locals. I learned how to play darts, while he connected with fellow veterans who shared their own war stories. The sense of intimate friendship enveloped us, and the night felt truly magical with the snow gracefully descending upon the windows, casting a winter wonderland aura outside. As we made our way back home, both of us slightly intoxicated, we clung to each other to avoid slipping on the icy paths, giggling like children.

I could feel the strength of his arms around me, and it stirred a playful energy within me. Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol, or perhaps it was simply him. We arrived home and retreated to our separate rooms. I slipped into a long t-shirt, wearing nothing underneath, and surrendered to the oblivion of sleep.

I was awoken in the middle of the night, I heard talking coming from outside my room, I got up and walked around wondered where it was coming from, it was from his room, he was talking in his sleep, he was having a vivid nightmare, I sat beside him on his bed and slowly caressed his profuselly sweating forehead, shhhh, I said hoping it would bring him a sense of relief, he stirred awake his eyes looking from side to side, I told him softly, quietly that everything was ok. I was unaware if he was fully awake.

I leaned in to kiss him on the forehead my hand on his shoulder, I didn't even realize that he was completely naked with the sheets half covering him. My head hovered over his for a second and that's when it happened. He softly put his hands on my cheeks and for the life of my I don't know why I didn't pull back, my body yearned for this and I didn't want to hold back, we shared a long and passionate kiss, our tongues deeply intertwined.

The whirlwind of what happened next is almost too frantic to describe, I pulled off my shirt and let him stare in awe at my body, I jumped on top of him and he sat up and immediately. His lips inhaled my breast, my small nipples slowly disapearing into his mouth. I could feel the shaft of his cock sliding across my lips, my immediate wetness soaking it.

I knew only one thing, I wanted him inside. Immediately.

I pushed him back against the bed put my hand underneath both our sexes, positioned him just right and slid slowly til he vanished inside of me .

Something awoke in me that night, maybe it had to do with the pent up frustration of a year in school, the loneliness … But as my body worked his swollen member like a posessed demon only one thought inhabited me. To squeeze every drop of cum out of this man. I could feel him struggle for his soul as I was fully in control, I squeezed him as hard as I could to make him lose any semblance of restraint that he could find.

I grabbed his head as he pushed mine down, and nibbled his earlobe until the words came out of my mouth ' I want you to paint the walls of my pussy white'

He took a long breathe and I felt his cock spurt inside of me, a long and intense orgasm that had him roaring with pleasure.

'Cum, give me that cum I screamed ... I want it all '

Maybe it was the intensity of the moment, maybe it was the effort ... I let his cock slide out of me ... still hard, covered in white silky cum. he stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes, I grabbed my shirt and walked back to my room. The smirk being mine now ...

I'll tell you guys more if you want to hear and thanks for reading my text and sticking around.