LITEROTICA PODCAST
LIT CAMS (200 Free Tokens)ADULT TOYSVOD MOVIES

Family Advice

S

saedo

Delver of the Deep
Joined
Aug 6, 2010
Posts
3,547
"You're home early, Brandon." observed Bethany from the den as I entered the house. "Thought you were supposed to be out late?"

"Shut up, Beth," I snarled as I stormed past. I ignored her retort and took the stairs two at a time. I stomped down the hall to my room. I slammed the door behind me and slung my suit jacket to the floor. I tugged my tie loose and threw it angrily across the room.

I felt a sudden urge to smash something. Using what little sense I had left, I picked up a pillow from my bed and began punching it. Again and again I slammed my fists into it, pinning it against the mattress. The fluffy target absorbed each blow with a soft "whump" as I channeled my emotional turmoil into it.

Several minutes later, I sank to my knees. I still felt terrible, but I was too tired to lift my arms. I knelt there and heaved great gasps of air into my lungs and blinked at the tears in my eyes. If I had the breath to do so, I thought I might cry. Or perhaps laugh like a madman.

This was not how I expected tonight to go. Tonight was supposed to be a big night for Caroline and me. Tonight was supposed to be our first time. Tonight was supposed to be fun and exciting. Instead, everything had gone sideways. Instead of fun and excitement, I had humiliation, anger, and confusion.

As I caught my breath, I knew that I couldn't keep this to myself. I had to get this out of my head. I had to talk to someone.

Unfortunately, the obvious choice was not an easy one: Beth. My sister and I didn't talk much, which passed for peace these days. That was actually an improvement; we'd spent much of middle school in open conflict. Silent coexistence was certainly preferable by comparison.

But it was a far cry from our early days. Beth had been born four minutes before me, making her the elder twin. We'd been thick as thieves back then. We did everything together as kids. I'd considered her my best friend.

But though we shared similar features - most notably the almond-shaped eyes from our mother - our personalities began to diverge as we matured. Beth was always the bold, adventurous one, whereas I favored quieter pursuits. She was the outgoing and popular one. I was more the stereotypical nerd, favoring books and computers to parties and people. Now seniors in high school, Beth was the captain of the drill team and first runner-up for homecoming queen whereas I chaired the math team and was lead trombone in the band.

I'd actually been her "little" brother freshman year. Beth hit puberty fast. She was among the first girls to develop womanly curves and she hit 5'8" by 9th grade. I didn't hit my growth spurt till sophomore year, whereupon I hit 6' and started to fill out my skinny frame. Consequently, for a while there, she was taller than I was.

Of course, these differences made her well-placed to advise me. Being short, skinny, and shy till just recently, I wasn't exactly a magnet for women. I eventually got taller and filled out, but I am still a bit shy. I only recently started dating. Caroline had been my only girlfriend and she no more experienced than I.

Beth, by contrast, was in a completely different world. Physically, even I had to admit she was gorgeous. Those early curves had never really stopped developing, giving her one of the biggest racks in school. Countless hours of high kick practice meant her rocking bod towered atop some killer legs. Combined with her bright smile and outgoing personality, she was part of the social elite in school. She dated whenever and whomever she wanted.

I sighed. I didn't relish the idea of sharing my situation with her. But I couldn't think of anyone who would know more about relationships than she. Resigning myself to my fate, I trudged downstairs to look for her.
 
Saturday night.

Was any other day of the week more important to a senior in high school? Well, not to one who actually had a life, anyway. Cameron Davis was throwing a party tonight, and I was still debating whether or not I was going to go. Normally, I'd go without question. All of my friends would be there. It was social suicide not to at least show up. But lately, upon being newly single, Cameron was showing more interest in me, and has tried more than once to get me to go out with him.

Cameron was tall, athletic, rich, not the brightest, but captain of the basketball team. Was there a captain of a sports team at school I hadn't dated yet? I couldn't remember. But I was biding my time with Cameron. If I were that easy to catch, I might as well be the school slut. I may have gotten around a few times, but there were many other girls who fit that bill. I had my own reputation to stand by. I could have whoever I wanted, but I sure as hell wouldn't let just anyone have me.

So, Cameron would have to work a little harder, if he wanted between these legs.

Of course, that would mean I would have to sneak out tonight. But, it certainly wouldn't be the first time. Mom and dad's room was across the hall, and Brandon...well, he seemed to mind his own business. Thank god.

Speaking of Brandon, I looked up at the clock. It was strange, especially for him, to be out and about. It was usually me that was out with friends, and him at home alone. Not the other way around. That thought alone made me shift uncomfortably on the couch in the den. Maybe I really should go to this party tonight.

But Brandon had been dating this new girl, lately. What was her name, again? Cindy? Cathy? Oh, fuck, I don't care. I don't even know the girl, but I saw the two of them for the first time the other day, in the cafeteria. Holding hands. It was odd, to see my brother with another girl. I couldn't remember him ever having a girlfriend. Although, since last year, he was like a different person. At least physically. It was as if he drank some magic water over summer and grew overnight. Even my own friends didn't recognize him. He was still thin, but now my head had to tilt to look up at him. But, still. Things seemed to be getting pretty serious between them. Or at least, that was my observation. I'd never really asked him about her. Because heaven forbid I actually acknowledge him in school. And asking him at home would mean I was actually interested.

God, I'd never seen Brandon's face turn so red before when I asked him earlier today if him and his girlfriend had sex yet. "You better get it, while you can. Before you open your eyes and see what a loser she really is. I bet she doesn't even know where her vagina is. She does have one, doesn't she?" I'd teased him before he left for his date. I grinned to myself, just at the memory, satisfied in the torture of my younger brother.

When the door opened, my head turned quickly, surprised to see that it was my brother entering. And he didn't look happy.

"You're home early, Brandon." I raised a brow, unsure why I actually expected him to tell me the reason why. "Thought you were supposed to be out late?" I questioned and pressed more, though it was more of a tease again. As if I knew all along it would go horribly.

"Shut up, Beth!" Was his only reply, and he was gone. My lips, glistening with berry lip gloss, curved into a wide, satisfied grin.

"Temper, temper." I mumbled to myself, and returned my attentions to the magazine in my lap. I was wearing a short, denim skirt and a white spaghetti-strap tank top that my mom hated. It was too see-through, or too tight, I couldn't remember. I never really paid much attention when she nagged about my clothes; it was an every day fight on the way out the door to school.

My long, smooth legs were crossed in front of me as the cool magazine laid on my thighs, and I idly flipped through the pages. I'm not sure how many pages I turned before I looked up from the couch to find Brandon standing there, silently. As if he was debating inside his head why he was even there. Hell, if he didn't know, I certainly didn't.

"You look lost." I looked back down at the magazine, and turned another page casually. As if I didn't care anymore what had went wrong with his date. I didn't, but curiosity was getting the best of me. I loved gossip. And drama. So long as it had nothing to do with me.

I heard him sigh heavily, though I couldn't tell if it was with annoyance with me, or frustration with something else.

"Where's Chloe?" Wrong name again, oops.
 



I paused at the entrance to the den. Talking to Beth had seemed like a good idea a minute ago, but I'd been alone in my room at the time. Standing here looking at her, my plan of action gave me pause. I would, after all, have to ask Beth for help.

It wasn't that I hated her. Even back when we fought almost daily, I never hated her. Not really. I doubt she did, either, even though most of our arguments back then ended with her yelling "I hate you!" and stomping off to her room so she could slam the door. (Beth had been very big on door-slamming in those days.) But even at the worst of it, if asked, I think we would each have grudgingly admitted to caring for one another.

No, these days were more characterized by disinterest rather than antagonism. We'd occasionally snap at one another, but heated arguments were the exception rather than the rule. Outside stuff at home, our lives didn't overlap enough to produce conflicts. Our classes, friends, and extracurricular activities had only tangential connections in common. The things that mattered to her were generally things I barely thought about, and vice versa. Consequently, we didn't really care enough about each other's lives to have anything to disagree about.

But just because the volcano hasn't erupted in years doesn't necessarily mean it's safe. We'd still occasionally snipe at one another, but it was more refled than any active interest in antagonism. We generally didn't even bother to update our repertoire; Beth would still call me "dork" and "loser" while I still used "cow" and "Miss Priss". Five years ago such words virtually guaranteed yelling, door-slamming, and tears (usually hers); today, we were so inured to such such dispassionate insults that they barely merited a dismissive eye-roll.

As such, we generally got along by not getting involved. Hello, goodbye, where's Mom, what's for dinner- we limited our conversation to the mundane. Asking Beth's advice would be breaking routine. No telling where that might lead.

My indecision was partially solved for me when Beth glanced over in my direction. She gave me a quick onceover with her eyes, then turned back to her magazine.

"You look lost, " she mused idly as she thumbed over a glossy page.

I sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just puzzle through this on my own.

No, this was too important. I knew I was clueless about girls, so the logical thing was to seek help from someone who knew more. Refusing to do so was, as Mom liked to lecture Dad, "letting your damn fool pride get in the way."

"Where's Chloe?" Beth's attention remained on the magazine, but clearly the query was aimed at me.

"Caroline," I sighed. "Her name is Caroline." Beth never bothered remembering any of the (admittedly few) girls I dated. They were usually quiet, bespectacled academic types like me, so hardly anyone Beth was likely to encounter at one of the cool kids' parties.* And since my relationships tended to be dull and short, remembering a name wasn't worth the effort.

I'd criticize her, but I was little better at keeping track of her paramours. Near as I could tell, folks in Beth's social circle tended to alternate between hanging out with all the other cool kids, pairing off into couples for awhile, and then hanging out as part of the group again. Given my limited interest in Beth's dating life, I was lucky to correctly recall whether she was currently involved or not. Consequently, I often confused the names of her current beau with that of an ex, resulting in Beth sighfully correcting me just as I had done to her.

Still, it was a mildly positive sign that she actually attempted to engage me in conversation. Granted, she probably only bothered because the magazine was boring, but it meant she at least had a modicum of interest in my life.

I walked around to the front of the couch. Caroline's long, sleek legs stretched along most of it, but I was fortunately able to find a spot at the far end without moving her feet. We used to share the couch as kids, but we'd both been a lot shorter then. Now either of us stretched out on the couch left little room for anyone else and neither of us were keen to yield that space if we got there first.

One look at Beth's outfit confirmed that Mom wasn't home yet. (She'd been called in to cover a shift at the hospital again. This wasn't unusual; combined with Dad's frequent business trips, we were used to not having parents at home.) Mom was curvier than the norm - though still a ways less than Beth - so she had some sympathy for Beth's difficulties in finding fashionable clothes that fit. However, Beth's tank tops had unequivocally been placed on the Unacceptable list.

Beth favored form-fitting cotton ones; apparently the snug fit made them quite comfortable to her. She'd taken to wearing them and shorts as pajamas or for lounging around the house during the warmer months. Back when Beth was just a kid, Mom had been fine with them. But when Beth started to develop, Mom started insisting that Beth wear a bra with them. Then it had been wearing a bra that couldn't be seen as through the tank top. Finally Mom had decided that even that was "indecent" and forbade all tank tops outside of Beth's bedroom unless covered up by a T-shirt or the like.

Beth had vehemently fought every restriction, but Mom had been relentless. Beth would wisely decided that compliance was better than being grounded, so she yielded. Beth being Beth, she still wore them uncovered while outside her room, but only when she knew the folks were gone. (She knew I wouldn't report her; I had my own minor violations of house rules that I preferred go unnoticed.)

I knew better than to ask if her casual attire meant she was staying in tonight. Unless it was for a sporting activity at the high school, the cool kids rarely got together before 10 PM on the weekends. Apparently only lame folks like myself went out at 7.

I cleared my throat. "Beth, I...," I paused, wavering one last time before finally committing. "I need your advice. About women."


 
"Caroline," He was sighing again. "Her name is Caroline."

Caroline. The name did nothing for me. Five minutes from now, I wouldn't doubt if I forgot the first letter of her name again. I never had to talk to the girl, so why the fuck would I care? Besides, Brandon didn't really have room to talk, he was worse than me. But it was more disappointing when he forgot the names of the guys I was dating; they were popular, and well-known in school and in the community. The athletes, at least. He really needed to get out more, if he couldn't name the star quarterback on the football team.

With an uninterested shrug, I looked away from Brandon and lowered my head to look back down at the magazine again. Hadn't I already read this page? I couldn't remember. But before my bright green eyes could even focus on the first sentence about applying eye makeup, I felt the couch shifting near my feet. Brandon was sitting.

What the fuck!

Instantly, I looked up at him, confused. There were a ton of other places he could go sit in the house, so why right next to me? The only time we sat together was at the dinner table, in the car, or at night when the family was watching TV and our parents forced me to turn off my phone to spend time with them. He usually stayed out of my way when we were alone, so the close proximity was throwing me off. I shifted awkwardly on the couch, and pretended it didn't bother me as I looked back down at the magazine again. All the while, wondering what the hell Brandon was up to.

He cleared his throat. I couldn't tell if it was from nerves, or if he was just trying to get my attention. Maybe both.

"Beth, I...," My eyes looked up, and he had my full attention. "I need your advice. About women."

Without question, clearly, this was a joke. Brandon never went to me for advice. Just like I never went to him. We both had our friends to talk to, and our parents as a last resort before ever turning to each other. I can't remember how our relationship ever turned to that, but it did. Not like he could really give me anything of use, anyway. But still! I just couldn't understand why he was fucking around with me. Was it just to annoy me? Or to see how I'd react? Instead, I chose to play along.

"Yeah, you do need it. And a lot of it. But all of the advice in the world would never help you, Brandon." I snapped at him, and I quickly closed my magazine and dropped it on the floor in exhaustion. I was annoyed, I was bored, and I didn't want to play games. And that's exactly what this felt like. Some game that he was playing with me, just because he had an awful night with his boring girlfriend, so he had to ruin my night too.

It wasn't until our eyes met that I noticed something in them. I couldn't exactly explain what I saw, or how I knew, but I could tell that I had struck something there. And that this wasn't a game to him. He didn't want to be here asking me for advice, just as much as I didn't want him asking me. Oh god, this must've been good.

I'd never been good at minding my own business, that was usually Brandon's thing. Gossip, rumors, stories, any of it...I wanted to know it all, at least if the person was interesting enough. In the case of my brother, whom I usually cared less about when it came to his love life...well, currently, I was strongly intrigued. Did he not have any other girls he could go to? Because whatever he needed, it had to be good if he was coming to me for it. Should I be flattered? Maybe it was too soon to tell, but I definitely felt like a million bucks.

Grinning confidently, I began to laugh. "Oh, you're serious." Laughing harder, I sat up straighter as he began to shift. I wasn't sure if he was rethinking his plan to come to me, or maybe planning his exit escape, but I gently grabbed his wrist and tried to hold back more of my laughter for his sake. It was too late now, I had to know what kind of advice he needed. It would kill me if he didn't tell me now.

"Brandon," I pursed my lips together in a tight smile, trying to prove to him I could be respectful. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm listening, I promise. C'mon, let's hear it."
 

"Yeah, you do need it. And a lot of it. But all of the advice in the world would never help you, Brandon."

I closed my eyes and sighed. I probably deserved that. I'd naturally expected Beth's initial reaction to be "No". I'd held out some hope that she'd be civil in her dismissive, but of course she hadn't. Just had to put that barb on the end about being beyond help. Foolish me for expecting otherwise.

My immediate instinct was to retaliate in kind, but I tampered that. I'd finally gained sufficient maturity to see that engaging in petty sniping was mostly a waste of time and energy, so I'd been trying not to give into such juvenile temptation. I wasn't always successful, but this time I managed to bite my tongue and offer a withering gaze instead.

"Oh, you're serious."

Beth paused briefly, so for a fleeting moment I thought I had actually gotten through to her. Despite our differences, she had recognized that family was more important.

Then her mouth split wide in an incredulous grin and she started giggling.

I closed my eyes and swore under my breath. Should have known this was a fool's errand. Beth was still too petty to help me. She'd rather score cheap points than actually hold a conversation. I leaned forward and stomping started to stand, but then Beth caught my wrist.

" "Brandon, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm listening, I promise. C'mon, let's hear it.

Her green eyes still danced with merriment, so I could see she was holding back the desire to laugh. I was tempted to storm off regardless. Further talk would only open me up for further cheap verbal jabs at my expense.

Still, I'd been here before; back then, our roles had been the reverse. Those early teen years had been tough on Beth. She'd gotten tall quickly and her boobs were nearly as large as the teacher's when all the other girls were barely in training bras. Toss in the chaos of puberty hormones and Beth was an emotional powder keg. Once set off, she'd burst into tears, storm off to her room, and bawl into a pillow. It drove our parents nuts, so I'd quickly learned to exploit it. So long as I kept my cool when Beth blew her stack, I always appeared reasonable.

Beth had grown out of that hypersensitivity in recent years. She'd still occasionally get mad enough to cry, but it took some doing to get her that wound up. In those earlier days, I could set her off with a funny look. Or by laughing at her.

That gave me pause. How many countless disagreements had I won because Beth had stormed off to her room, red-faced and teary-eyed? That's what would happen here if I just walked away now. Sure, I wouldn't be crying, but I'd be conceding defeat by letting her laughter get to me. I couldn't give in that easily.

I sat back down and turned to face her. She'd had to sit up to catch my arm, so her eyes loomed large at closer range. People often noted that first about our similarities - our green eyes plus the semi-exotic shape given the Asian ancestry on Mom's side. They actually weren't the same color, though. Beth's were a few shades lighter, like expensive jade. But still, they looked much like my own.

I frowned, then grumbled, "Fine. One more chance." I glanced down at my wrist; Beth took the hint and her slender fingers let go.

I settled back on the couch. "Yes, I am being serious. I do have a problem-" I stopped mid-sentence and looked over to see if Beth was going to take advantage of the obvious opening for another insult. She gave me a quick smile that said she'd seen the opportunity but chosen to let it slide.

Temporarily mollified, I continued. "A problem I need help with, but I didn't know who else to turn to. I know we don't really talk much, but you're my sister and you have... experience. "

The latter statement was an educated guess on my part. Beth never brought guys to the house and I certainly never went to the same parties as she, so I have no idea exactly what she got up to with her dates. But since I'd started running cross-country, I occasionally shared the locker room with some of her boyfriends. Cross-country was an individual sport and had no spectators, so my being vaguely athletic (I was the third fastest on the squad, so no medals were in my future) didn't make me cool enough to talk to the football, baseball, hockey, soccer, basketball, or even tennis teams, but I'd sometimes overhear their conversations. And while I know guys often lie when they talk about how much action they're getting, Beth's name was mentioned too often for me to think she was doing nothing but holding hands on these dates. As such, I was reasonably confident she'd be familiar with the situation I'd faced.

Beth met my words with a curious gaze. I'd at least piqued her curiosity enough to keep her mouth shut. Probably the best I could hope for under the circumstances.

"Anyway, suppose you've been going out for awhile with a guy and things are good and you like the guy, so you decide you'd like to get serious.... I mean, that you're ready to get... physical." I could feel my ears starting to flush; even without details, I was feeling embarrassed." "So you drop some clear hints that you want your guy to make a move. So what I want to know is....," I coughed uncomfortably before finishing, "when he makes that move, what exactly do you want him to do?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Similar threads

monique_minx
The Blood Chain
Replies
4
Views
197
monique_minx
monique_minx
Baddie4Life
Jumping Ship
Replies
7
Views
307
justabrick
justabrick
zydrate
Losing Trust (Closed)
Replies
2
Views
295
zydrate
zydrate
J
Mia comes to stay for while
2
Replies
26
Views
736
Man4mystery
M
officegirl_20
Life of an Upcoming Popstar(closed to Pleasuretiger)
Replies
2
Views
114
officegirl_20
officegirl_20
Back
Top