Delivering an extra present [FM]

I’m home with my family for Christmas, and ever since I learned to drive one of my festive chores has been to go around and deliver cards and presents to local relatives and family friends around my hometown – not a particularly enjoyable prospect, as it invariably involves a long afternoon of smiling at pleasantries from aunts and uncles, and trying not to be press-ganged into coming in for drinks or foods and end up trapped there for hours.

Another reason for my dread over the past couple of years has been the prospect of delivering cards and presents to my ex-boyfriend’s house – although we get on okay it’s always awkward when we meet, and our families have remained friends which is also makes for tricky conversations in itself. Last year I managed to slip their card and present through the door with no trouble, but this year my heart sank as I rang the doorbell and, just as I was ready to deposit their goodies, I heard thudding downstairs. When the door opened, I was at least a little relieved that rather than my ex or his parents, it was his younger brother that opened the door to me.

Now, some backstory is required here I suppose. When I first started dating my boyfriend his little brother was, as you might expect, the archetypical horny teenager – the only thing that marked him out was the fact that his brain and mouth seemed to be directly connected. The first time we met and I was introduced to him, his first words to me was “shit, you’re hot”, which he delivered with a shit-eating grin and no sign of embarrassment, while I went bright red and had no idea what to say. On that same first meeting he also unapologetically barged into his brother’s room a couple of times, clearly hoping to catch us “doing it”. However, when we actually found ourselves in the same space and with the opportunity to chat we got on pretty well – he was smarter than his dumb outbursts, we liked a lot of the same video games, and his loose tongue was matched with a quick wit that made me laugh on a regular basis.

Of course, striking up a friendship with him also made him incorrigible when it came to that “horny teenager” side of his personality – when he regularly sent me text messages or Facebook messages asking for nudes, or querying whether we’d done it doggy or missionary when he knew I’d been out with his brother, I always got the feeling he was only half-joking, and after initially not knowing how to handle this I ended up turning it into a full-on joke myself – I’d send him a “nude” of my bare hand or make some silly remark, which in hindsight probably only made it worse. Then again, part of me really liked the idea that he probably fantasised about me, and got a kick out of him seeing him almost instantly like any cosplay photos I put on Facebook and messaging me comments about my hotness.

When I split up with my boyfriend, I heard and saw far less of his brother of course, but the occasional requests for nudes and sexual comments never stopped entirely, remaining a running joke up to the day in question.

So, back to the present, this younger brother – 18 now – opened the door in a t-shirt and sweat pants, with hair dishevelled and looking like he’d barely gotten out of bed all day, and looking decidedly more like his older brother these days than the lankier, spottier kid I first got to know. We stumbled over some greetings, he told me that my ex was still away and wouldn’t be back home for another day or two, and then announced that his parents were also out at work all day. A little relieved at this, I was all set to dump the card and present for his family on him and leave, but when he asked if I wanted to stick around for a coffee I found myself tempted – the cold outside weather was just turning to rain, and this was the last stop on my “tour”, so I figured a chance to catch up with my ex’s brother might be preferable to going home to my parents yapping about whatever came into their heads for the rest of the afternoon.

Accepting the invite, I stepped inside and headed into the living room to dump my thick coat while he padded into the kitchen to make coffee, swapping idle talk as he prepared it – about uni, my Christmas plans and all of the normal small talk – I internally registered that he’d matured a bit as we’d normally already be talking about what video games he’d been playing lately by this point.

Once that small talk was out of the way however, by the time we both sat down with a drink in our hands the full-on game talk had begun, with both of us spouting passionately about Final Fantasy XV in particular until we’d exhausted that topic of conversation. It was this lull in conversation that saw conversation then turn to his brother as I tried to make some chit-chat, and discussion of what he’d been doing suddenly brought a glint to his eye as he conveyed that his brother was single… “and I bet he’s still kept all those nudes of you too!” This kicked off a to and fro as I denied that any such nudes existed, to which he asked with that familiar shit-eating grin whether I’d been saving them up for him instead.

I played along at this point, suggesting that all the nude pics I’d taken for him never came out right, and we continued this back and forth jokey battle of wits for a little while. The trouble is… I was starting to feel a twinge of arousal by this point, his little barbs about how he knew I wanted to show off to him really hitting home more than either of us might have realised. I found myself steering the conversation in a different direction, suggesting that the only reason he’d never get any nudes of me was because I couldn’t trust him with them.

“So if I promised not to show anyone you’d send them to me?” he asked, still grinning widely.

“No, because I don’t trust you with them!”

“Hmm… so how are you going to be able to show me then?”

My breath almost caught in my throat as the ludicrous words tumbled out behind them: “I’d have to let you see in person”. While thoughts were racing through my head, he was still enjoying the joking hunt for pictures, laughing and probing: “Oh, so you carry nudes everywhere with you? Just in case someone needs to see them?”

My throat was getting dry. “No, I mean I’d have to let you see me in person. Not in a photo”.

Even he paused at this point, just for a moment, before recovering his composure. His laugh seemed a little more nervous, although perhaps I imagined it, as he said “Well, my room’s right upstairs!” My mind was screaming blue murder, but this time it was me and not him speaking without really thinking. “Alright then!” I said, almost leaping up and heading out of the room towards the stairs. His laughter wasn’t nervous but the real deal now, and it was only a few seconds after I popped my head around the door and asked “Are you coming?” that it stopped as quickly as it began.

“You’re funny… you’re not being serious” he said, slightly quizzically. “You’re not, are you…. are you? Wait…. holy shit. No way, this is too crazy, you’re fucking with me”. Enjoying the fact I’d gotten one up on him and now, frankly, getting wet, I shrugged, turned heel and headed upstairs, knowing where his room was from previous visits with my ex. Locating his room, I sat myself down on the bed and waited, taking a deep breath and feeling my flushed face while telling myself that I’d wait a couple of minutes then go back downstairs to find him sat waiting for me so that we could have a good laugh about my winding him up. Yet, a minute later he appeared gingerly in the doorway, perhaps meeker than I’d ever seen him before he entered the room. He asked again… “Are you really going to… strip?”

I didn’t say a word… instead, I reached down and grasped the grey sweater I was wearing, pulling it over my head and tossing it next to me on his bed, watching his mouth all but literally drop wide open as I sat on his bed now showing him my pink lace bra. He didn’t say a word, just stared, so I got up to unbutton and unzip my dark blue skinny jeans. Sitting back on the bed, I struggled to slowly pull the tight jeans off my legs – not exactly a graceful strip tease as I yanked them off while trying to keep my underwear in place, but eventually they too were discarded on the bed.

I stood up again and gave him a quick twirl before looking him in the eye – he was still nowhere near regaining his composure, but managed to roll out a compliment on my underwear, his eyes seemingly glued to the small, lacy pink thong I happened to be wearing that day. Emboldened further, he cleared his throat before stating that this still isn’t the nudes he was promised – “good point” I replied, and reached behind me to unclip my bra. I had the presence of mind to tease him a little this time, holding my bra up over my breasts with my hands before slowly easing it away to reveal my boobs and nipples. “Fuck… they look better than I’d imagined” was his breathless response.

My hands then reached into the waistband of my thong, and again I teased this piece of clothing down almost agonisingly slowly, rolling the underwear down my legs and finally off, balling them up to add them to the pile on the bed. I stood up and gave him another twirl, wearing nothing but a pair of black ankle-high socks to more comments from him – he told me that he’d always imagined me as trimmed rather than shaved, and seemed particularly taken with my ass. We both laughed as I turned around then slapped and jiggled an ass cheek for him, shooting him a grin over my shoulder as I did so.

At this point my mind was a blank fog of horniness, and my stupid plan had run out of road – now what do we do? There was an awkward silence as we stood there, him still staring intently at me until perhaps a pang of guilt or sheer bafflement shot through his brain. “What the fuck are we actually doing?” he asked, wide-eyes.

“I dunno, but it’s kinda exciting” was my instinctive response, which was perhaps the words he needed to allow his sexual curiosity to take charge again. “Exciting how? Is this… I mean… are you turned on?” I couldn’t help but blush here as I answered in the affirmative. “Wet?” he asked – I just nodded. Another pause. “Can I…. see?”

Wordlessly, I sat back down on his bed, opening my legs up to give him a full view of my pussy. Without even thinking, he moved a little closer and slowly dropped to his knees, still keeping his distance but staring straight between my opened legs. Shifting a little, I brought a hand down with a thought of spreading my lips a little to prove that I was indeed getting wet from showing him my body – a fatal mistake, as my fingers brushing over my pussy was like electric through my body, causing me to gasp involuntarily and even causing him to jerk a little in surprise.

I hadn’t so much as masturbated for days before this moment, and that single touch removed all thoughts but one from my head – I need a release. I forgot about giving a better show of my wetness, and my fingers were soon slipping across this wetness to spread it up to my clit so that I could begin to stroke it in familiar circles. This wasn’t what I’d intended – giving my ex’s brother the “nudes” he’d always teased me about was going to be a surprise Christmas present on the spur of the moment – but now I was masturbating in front of him and didn’t care, I just wanted to cum. Meanwhile, he was stock-still and kneeling in place, I suspect not daring to move unless it brought me out of my fog of arousal and made me scarper.

He did shift position eventually, but only when I did – not even thinking about his view at this point I moved to swing my legs up onto his bed, laying back and opening my legs to resume rubbing my clit more frantically, occasionally switching to thrust a couple of fingers in and out of my myself before returning that overflowing wetness back to my clit. He was standing now, looking down on me but frozen in place again, although I did see a quick glimpse of his erection poking clearly through his sweat pants as I sighed, moaned and moved my hips on his bed against the increasing blur of my fingers. It was probably only a few minutes before I yelped and moaned loudly, burying my face as best I could to one side in his pillow as I came for the first time with quivering legs and uneven breath in its aftermath.

There was still silence in the room but for my heavy breathing (and to a lesser extent his), and with nothing else said and my desires still bubbling I found myself turning over onto all fours and going for a second orgasm. With my face buried into his duvet I can’t be sure but I think he moved some way behind me to get a better view of my ass in the air as I resumed rubbing my clit and fingering my pussy. The carnal part of my mind wanted to feel someone else’s touch and hoped he might feel brave enough to at least replace my fingers, but he did no such thing – instead, I was suddenly jolted out of my growing wave of pleasure by the unmistakable sound of a key in a lock and a heavy door opening.

“Fuck, my parents are back!” I heard him hiss – thankfully, his quick thinking returned immediately, and while I remained frozen while my head darted up off the bed like a rabbit, and he whispered for me to get dressed as he’d go and greet his folks and tell them I’d visited to deliver a card and needed to use the bathroom. He raced out of the room, clearly adjusting his sweat pants as he went, and I turned over and grabbed the pile of clothes, rapidly putting on my underwear, jeans and sweater faster than I perhaps ever have before. I was all set to literally run out of the house before taking some deep breaths and calming myself down – instead, I crept to the bathroom (where I was supposed to be, according to his story), very deliberately flushed the toilet and then washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face until I looked less like a girl who’d just had an orgasm from masturbating on the bed of her ex’s little brother.

Finally ready to head down, I had to endure some quick pleasantries with the family before making excuses about running late, grabbing my coat and saying swift goodbyes. Jumping in the car, my journey home was a mixture of laughter, swearing and sighs – what have I done, and why did I do it?!

Unsurprisingly, this evening I’d received a few text messages from him – a mixture of amazement at what transpired mixed with his more usual cheek as he told me I owed him one for the wet patch on his bed. I equally cheekily told him I’d make it up to him, although I have no idea how or when…

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5jgns9/delivering_an_extra_present_fm