Fostered Devotion [First Time] [Foster Siblings] [Loving]

My best friend also happens to be my brother. We aren’t biologically related, we just came to reside in the same home as the foster children of a very nice couple. Admittedly, I craved my brother’s attention more than anything else, he would never cross any lines with me though. He only ever saw me as his little sister and I hated that so much. I wanted to experience passion and love and intimacy more than anything else in the world and I knew he was the only person I wanted that kind of connection with. I was completely infatuated with him and he seemed to only ever see me as the little girl I was when we first met.

While there are many horror stories that come out of living in foster homes, our experience with the Bradley family is not one of them. Our lives before that placement, however, were rampant with various types of neglect and abuse.

Grace and W.T. Bradley took in many foster kids, some for a few days, many for life. They were quite wealthy and they actually gave a damn about the kids in their care. They genuinely wanted to provide these children with stability and love, even if the placement was only temporary. My brother, I called him Danny but his given name was Dante Isaac Morrow, came into their home when he was 12.

The story of how he got into foster care isn’t all that complicated, but it is a bit heartbreaking. His mom died when he was four. His dad was an alcoholic and abused him badly enough to leave many permanent scars.

Danny was finally taken away permanently when his dad carved ‘fag’ on his cheek because, at ten, he wasn’t showing any sexual interest in girls yet.

My story isn’t as difficult, my mom was young when she had me and died during my birth. My grandparents couldn’t look at me without seeing the daughter they lost so they gave me up for adoption. My mom never told them who my dad was so I had no other family to take me in and entered foster care as an infant.

I was being taken to the Bradley’s home at the same time as Danny, we rode in the car together, we had the same social worker. He held my hand and smiled, told me it would be okay and the way he said it made me believe him.

I didn’t feel safe at first, I never did when I got switched to a new home. I hid under the bed instead of sleeping in it for a while. The first night the mom smiled at me and let me sleep there. The second night she climbed under there with me, always smiling so gently and sweetly, she never said a word, she just lay next to me until I fell asleep. The third night, I started to climb under there and saw a plate with a cookie on it, a glass of milk, a book, and a flashlight.

That’s when I knew this house would be different. The Bradley’s usually had 6 kids in their care at any given time, sometimes more if real siblings came along. We shared rooms, two kids per, but it was divided down the center, so we really had our own room with one door and a big divider thing that we could move if we wanted to.

I shared a room with Danny since I refused to leave his side when we first arrived. We became friends instantly. That fourth day I went over to his side of the room and just sat and watched him play a video game, he let me play when he got killed. I got killed quicker than he did. Our friendship was formed in actions like that more than words.

We grew, we bonded over everything. Anything he was interested in I was interested in, too. Every book he read was picked up by me as soon as he finished. I wanted to watch every movie he watched. I was his annoying little sister-shadow.

As we got older he was moved to another room, he was sharing with another boy, I was sharing with another girl, she was younger than me, I didn’t like it. She wanted me to play with her but I was following my brother around like a lost puppy at his side. I did spend the nights before bed reading to her or singing to her and I always apologized for being short with her. It wasn’t her fault I was so hung up on Danny that her existence and needs annoyed me. I was a really shitty big sister.

My personality was more in line with being a little sister. Though, if Danny ever actually was irritated with me, he never let on.

We grew, we matured, he turned 18 and was out of the system officially. The family never turned their backs on him. He stayed right there until he graduated from a trade school. They did that with every kid they brought into the home. Want more schooling? They will help you along the path you need to be on to get it. They helped me too. But, by the time my first year of college started, my brother had completed his program, gotten a job, had a girlfriend, and had his own apartment. I hadn’t seen him in months when he volunteered to help me move into my dorm.

I made a move on him as he was bringing a box of clothes into my new room. I may have overwhelmed him a bit. I kind of tripped him onto the bed in my room and pounced on him with a big smile on my face.

He smiled back and pushed me off of him, told me to stop being silly and gave me a kiss on the top of my head.

I was a little bit crushed. I’d made moves on him at least a hundred times over the previous few years, all of which got shot down with a “Stop being silly, flower,” and a kiss on the head.

It felt like he was never going to see me as a grown up. He was always going to see the little girl in the back of the car with a bracelet of plastic lilies that had been afraid to tell him her name at first, so he took to calling her flower.

My first year of college I thought I was going to die. I didn’t have time for anything except studying. I didn’t get the social life aspect of college, it simply didn’t exist for me.

I opted to give up my room at the Bradley’s place ‘cause my foster mom approached me about a group of siblings that needed a place and asked if I was okay with it. I was fine with it, Danny gave me a place to stay and he was close to them so I could still visit and help them out.

That first night of summer vacation my brother seemed distraught, unsettled, so I asked him what was wrong.

“You know it’s not safe to let guys in your room right? Even if your roommate is there?” he asked.

I looked him over, “Excuse me?”

“I mean, college and being around a bunch of older guys can be really new and exciting and it can make you let down your guard. You might not even be aware they’re manipulating you until it’s too late,” he said.

He was avoiding eye contact with me and was digging his fingernail into the side of his index finger so tightly that a trickle of blood fell down his finger.

I grabbed his hand and wiped it up with a napkin as I looked at him, “Are you trying to give me a ‘don’t have sex’ talk?” I asked.

Danny scowled and looked me over, “You’re nineteen, I think you’re a little too old for that talk. I’m just asking if you’re being vigilant and aware of your surroundings, not getting taken in by big words and suave personalities.”

“Nobody goes into my dorm except me and my roommate, not even her boyfriend is allowed in,” I said. “What’s got you worried about this all of a sudden? You usually trust my judgment.”

He sighed and pulled out his wallet, inside was a piece of folded up paper, “I was back home the other day, helping dad fix the swing set and put on a new slide and I brought the mail in. I found this. It wasn’t postmarked or anything, it looks like someone just put it in the mailbox.”

The letter was hesitantly put into my hand and he looked away from me as I read it. It was disturbing and laid out the circumstances that led to me being removed from the home I was in before the Bradley’s. I looked up at him, “Was it addressed to anyone?”

“Me,” he said, “that’s why I took it.”

He had never pushed me to talk about what happened in that house. The cut on my lip and bruises on my upper arm told him all he needed to know about it. I looked up from the letter and saw him wiping his eyes, “Are you okay?” I asked.

“That was hard to read,” he said.

I nodded, “It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. My social worker got me out of there before it got worse, he just obsessed over me, never touched me. His mom is the one that bruised me and busted my lip, it really wasn’t as bad as he made it sound here,” I said.

“There was more in the envelope,” he said.

“What more?” I asked.

He got up and went to his bedroom and came back with the envelope the letter had been in. Inside were photos of me. A lot of photos of me. Current photos of me. In class, at the park, at the cafeteria, roller skating with a friend, just my day to day stuff. But, there were also photos of my empty dorm room with all of my stuff in it. It wasn’t taken from outside of the room, it was taken from inside, including one that was the view of my room from my bed as if the person taking the photo was lying the same way I do when I sleep.

Some of the photos had crosshairs drawn over my friends faces or words scrawled over the images of me, various not nice names for me. Or he had short descriptions on the back of the photos, detailing the things he wanted to do to me when he got me alone. On the back of a photo of me out to eat with my friends, he made a note of my class schedule and a separate list of times. Roughly a two-hour block each day when I took time to go somewhere to be by myself.

I felt sick.

“Does anyone else know?” I asked.

He shook his head, “I haven’t told anyone.”

“When did you get it?”

“A few days ago,” he said quietly.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, the hesitance to look at me told me he was hiding something else from me.

He pulled out three more pictures and put them on the table, he had ripped them up a bit, but I was able to piece them back together pretty quickly. I was in the showers in one of them, my eyes closed, water running over my face, other girls were in the room too. Another was taken from such an angle that I was fully visible, the first was a very close shot of the side of my face. A third photo showed me sitting on the floor of the library in a dusty old section no one besides me ever really went to.

A chill went down my spine and I looked at him as I pointed to that photo, “I remember that day. I kept feeling like someone was watching me but I couldn’t find anyone else there,” I said quietly. “I thought I was being paranoid and home sick.”

I covered myself with my arms and sucked on my lower lip as I looked at the images. I rubbed my hands over my upper arms, and tears welled up in my eyes. He’d seen this reaction from me before. I did it when I got scared, a visceral reaction that I couldn’t control.

My brother taped one of the pictures together and turned it over, It had a simple sentence written on the back, ‘Think she’s still a sweet little virgin?’

He did the same with the second picture, ‘She felt me watching and left before I could grab her.’

And again with the third, ‘Can you protect your little flower?’

I sobbed when I saw those notes. He had taken something sweet and innocent between me and my brother and made it cruel and dirty. Danny came over to me and held me close. I cried against his shoulder. I had never been so scared in my life.

“How did he know you call me flower?” I asked.

Danny shrugged, “He’s clearly been stalking you. Maybe he heard us talking? Or, maybe he didn’t even know and was just referring to your name being Lily?”

“We have to tell the Bradleys,” I said between sobs, “you said it was at their house? There are still kids there…they need to be safe.”

Danny called them and told them about the letter and the threats, they took all of the kids away for the week and informed the cops. We gave the cops the info and Danny took pictures of everything before handing it over to them, just in case it got lost, then we spent the night just being close to each other.

We watched a movie together and we talked, we made dinner together then watched another movie until I was falling asleep and Danny woke me up and told me to go get in bed.

I tossed and turned as soon as I climbed into his spare bed, he wasn’t beside me and I didn’t feel safe. Every little noise made me hold my breath and I was afraid to get up even to go pee. Eventually, I got desperate and started to get out of bed. A shadow darted across the doorway and I screamed. I didn’t meant to, I just did.

I was wound so tightly after everything that happened that afternoon. It took me a few seconds after I screamed to realize it was a tree branch outside the window casting a shadow along the wall by the door.

Danny barged into the room seconds after I screamed and flipped the light on. He held a gun firmly in his grip and looked around to see if I was okay. He was ready to hurt someone.

I sat up in bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, “It was just a shadow, I startled myself,” I said.

He came over to me and helped me up, I was shaky, felt weak, but climbed out of the bed and held his hand, “I have to go pee and I was afraid to get out of bed,” I said, a hint of shame in my expression.

He smiled and walked me to the bathroom and waited outside the door for me. When I came back out, he scooped me up in his arms. I didn’t fuss, I just wrapped my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. His bed was soft and warm. I scooted over to make room for him as he laid me down on it. He climbed in behind me and pulled me close to him, his arms around me protectively.

“I won’t let anybody hurt you, flower,” He whispered it directly into my ear and kissed my temple tenderly. I clung to his arms and finally fell asleep. He stayed awake all night, not moving, holding me tightly, securely. When I woke up in the morning, I stretched against him, his grip tightened protectively and I couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“I was just stretching, I’m okay,” he blushed and moved, letting me go for the first time since I fell asleep. His brow was furrowed and he looked concerned, like he didn’t want me out of his sight but knew he couldn’t ask that of me.

“Is it okay if I shower?” I asked, I knew the answer would be yeah, but I wanted him to know I cared about how he was feeling. Most people would assume I was asking permission, but I wasn’t. I was asking if he was okay and he knew that.

He nodded shyly. He withdrew into himself. He was back there, when we first met, before he could protect himself let alone me, and he was scared.

I looked at him and smiled. His scars had always made him insecure but I had always found them endearing. They were a part of him, a part of what made him the person he was, a part of what brought us together. They were a horrible thing, but they were him and I loved him.

I ran my fingers over the scar on his cheek, the word had largely faded into random lines. I kissed it tenderly, sweetly. My lips lingered, wanting him to know the affection I craved from him but I was too afraid of being rejected by him again to be any bolder.

I think, now more than ever, I wanted him to take me and claim me for himself. I wanted him to be my first and, hopefully, only. I’d had chances before with other guys, but I had never taken them, they paled when compared to my brother. No one would ever be able to live up to him. I pulled my lips away and hovered closely still, his cheek was warm, red, he was blushing brightly. I had kissed his scar a thousand times before and he had only ever tensed up. I ran my fingers over the deep lines that remained, “Will you sit in the bathroom with me while I shower? I don’t want to be alone.”

He nodded and blushed even brighter as we got up and went into his bathroom together.

I started to undressed right in front of him. I didn’t do it to entice him or anything, I just didn’t think anything of it, I loved him and I trusted him. He blushed brightly and turned away from me as I caught myself.

I finished undressing with him facing away and set up the shower. That was the first time I felt it, he was staring at me. His gaze was focused on my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I didn’t look at my reflection or his, I wanted him to look and I didn’t want him to get embarrassed and look away.

I let him have his private moment of indirectly staring at my body. His gaze seemed to be hovering around my breasts. They were softly rounded mounds that curved up into puffy pinkish-tan areola and firm pointed nipples. I stood upright and looked at my own reflection and felt his gaze lower to my cunt for just a moment. I was cleanly waxed my lips were small and I was getting aroused from the idea of Danny looking at me, so my clit was starting to spread my lips open just enough to see the soft pink tip.

I took a little longer than necessary to climb into the shower, but eventually I had to. The hot water flowed over me, the glass doors of the shower gave my brother a steamed up view of me. He watched through the mirror for a few moments as my curves would vanish behind waves of steam, only to reappear a bit more clearly a short while later. I washed slowly, deliberately, running my soapy hands over my breasts and stomach while standing as close to the glass door as I could.

I was scared of what the letter meant. I feared for my brother’s safety as well as my own. But no amount of fear would do anything to diminish the want I’d been feeling since I stepped back into my brother’s car and caught the familiar scent of his cologne and natural musk. I still wanted him to feel desire for me and I couldn’t help but think that maybe the letter and photos were a catalyst towards getting what I wanted from him.

I felt a little like I was seducing my big brother by manipulating his concern for me. I knew we weren’t really siblings, the Bradleys had never officially adopted us, we were just foster siblings, us and hundreds of thousands of other kids who went through the system. I opened the shower door just a bit, enough for him to see soap clinging to my every curve along the right side of my body, my eyes were closed tightly. “Can you hand me a towel? I’ve got soap in my eyes.”

I reached out blindly, he grabbed my hands and put them down to my sides and took a towel, wiping my eyes for me. I smiled at him then I opened my eyes and saw him standing naked in front of me, one hand was slightly covering himself but was really doing a poor job of it.

“Can I shower with you?” He asked so shyly, so quietly.

I smiled and nodded, taking his hand from between his legs and practically pulling him in with me. That’s where he kissed me for the first time, a real kiss, his lips pressed tightly against my own. I nearly fell but he held me up. I had craved that kiss for years and it did not disappoint me. I slid my hand over his cheek and he rubbed his hand against the back of my neck, pulling me to him. He was insistently, hungrily, kissing me.

He took my breath away.

He finally let go and sighed, he pressed his forehead to mine and held me tightly in his arms. He leaned down close to me, his lips right by my ear. “I just realized someone could’ve taken you from me. I took you being a part of my life for granted.”

I looked him in the eye, “Then marry me,” I said with a smirk.

His brow furrowed, but he nodded and ran his fingers across my cheek, “I have to break up with my girlfriend first,” he said softly.

I was a little overwhelmed by his response.

I’d meant it as a joke but he seemed to actually be on board with it, “Seriously?” I asked.

He nodded.

The man I’d loved since I was a girl actually wanted to marry me. I smiled and grabbed him into a tight, naked and soapy embrace and we both nearly died as we slipped and laughed. I kissed him, passionately, returning that hungry kiss he had given me with one of my own. My body pressed tightly to his and I slid down to my knees in front of him.

He started to pull me back up but I didn’t let him. I took him into my mouth and his knees went weak as my tongue slid over his shaft. I had never done this before, I had only ever heard guys and girls talking about it. I just did what came naturally to me, what felt good to me.

I suckled on him, softly, slowly. I took a little more of him, trying not to choke myself on his length. His hands found their way to the back of my head. I was afraid he’d pull me farther down onto him, but he just stroked my hair. I felt him tense up as I pulled my lips away, he was hard and throbbing. I slipped my tongue over the tip of him, I could taste a salty wetness there and I tenderly curled my tongue over him. The deep moans escaping his lips as my lips worked their way over him was enough to make me get a little overheated.

His fingers tightened in my hair as he was fought himself to keep from pulling me further onto him. I could feel the tension building inside his entire body as he whimpered softly and tried to hold back. I looked up at him, a slight smile on my lips as they stretched over his cock. His eyes caught mine and he couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands pulled my lips deeply onto him, gagging me and hurting the back of my throat in such an appealing way that I moaned and vibrated my throat against the tip of his dick as he released his pleasure into me. His cheeks were a bright red but I don’t think he was blushing.

In just that moment he was so overcome with lust that he pulled himself from my mouth then quickly picked me up and carried me out of the shower and back into the bedroom. He didn’t even turn the shower off. He laid me down on his bed, both of us were still coated in soap and he didn’t seem to care as he kissed me deeply, his fingers slid between my legs and rubbed me softly.

He looked at me, “Have you ever been with anyone before?” he asked as I moaned.

I shook my head no and blushed brightly.

“I haven’t either, flower,” He kissed me with that revelation and I moaned wantonly against his lips.

He kissed his way down me, tenderly sliding his lips along my neck, his hands found their way over my soft curves, expressing his want for me at every touch.

I ached for him, I moaned and whined and writhed beneath him. My back arched as he kissed over my tummy and he quickly pushed my thighs apart and made his way down between my legs. His tongue moved as though he had never tasted anything so sweet in his life. He was hungry for my body and he was finally allowing himself to taste it deeply.

His tongue swirled over me, slid up along me, deeply lapping up the wetness I was giving him. He slipped his tongue into me and curled it, dragging it roughly along me. I nearly screamed in excitement, he stopped and looked at me and smiled, “Quiet, flower, you’ll wake the neighbors.” He slipped his fingers over me and rubbed, I throbbed under his thumb as his middle finger gently tried to open me to him.

I whined. A pained, “So?” was all I could manage as his fingers and tongue brought me to the cusp of release. I glistened under him and he smirked at me.

He lifted my hips slightly and kept eye contact with me the whole time, “Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded and bit my lip, waiting for him. He positioned himself between my thighs and slowly inserted the tip of himself into me. The fullness hurt, he very slowly pushed just a little deeper, he stopped as he felt the resistance of my hymen, unable to stretch further to let him deeper into me, “I’ve been told this hurts, flower, are you sure?”

I nodded, the tip of him wasn’t enough, I wanted to feel him fully inside. I wanted to be fully connected to him. He grasped my hips and pulled me to him as he thrust into me. It really did hurt. I screamed in both pleasure and pain. He panicked a little as a little bit of blood flowed along my opening and onto his shaft, but I looked at him shakily and begged, “Don’t stop.”

He started to pull himself free but I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him back into me. He lay there with me as I became accustomed to the feel of him inside me. He was afraid to move and only watched the tears flow from my eyes. I could feel him throbbing even as I saw the pained expression on his face.

Hurting me hurt him.

After a few minutes, I was rocking my hips towards him and he began to slowly push himself into me again. My hips were meeting him, I was smiling at him, kissing him and clinging to him. I still cried.

He picked me up and sat up on the bed. He kept me firmly on him and positioned me on his lap. I lifted myself but he pulled me back down to him. He smiled, he liked how the weight of my body felt on his lap. He liked the way my body surrounded his cock.

His hands roughly slid over my skin, along my hips and up my sides. He gripped and squeezed each of my breasts in turn. His lips found my nipples and suckled at me. His fingers caressed his perky prize for the intimate kisses he bestowed upon my flesh. I was caught off guard when he slid one hand down between us and began rubbing me gently in an effort to bring me to release. He wanted to weaken me as much as I had weakened him.

I kissed him and slid myself over him, taking him deeply into me and rocking against him before sliding back off a bit, his fingers worked the sensitive bit of flesh between my legs as we both tensed up.

I felt an intense wave of passion sweep over me. I reached my climax with him deep inside of me, his lips fully on mine, his tongue warring with my own as I cried out in pleasure, muffled in his needy kiss. I clenched up, choking his cock in me and forcing him to release as well. I milked his cum deeply into my body.

We lay beside each other after we each caught our breath, me safe in his arms, him holding me tightly to him.

Nothing ever came of the letter, no more threats, no more pictures, nothing. Maybe the cops contacting him about it scared him off. I went back to school but opted to commute from my brother’s apartment, we both felt safer that way.

We married at the end of that month, we couldn’t wait.

The Bradleys responded to the news with a simple, “It’s about time.”

I still call him brother from time to time, I can’t help it. We get some odd looks when I do, but I really don’t care. The disapproving looks usually prompt me to give him a really passionate kiss. Sometimes I think he goads me into calling him brother in public just for those kisses because I put my all into them, every time.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/i8sp3q/fostered_devotion_first_time_foster_siblings