1875
Munster, Ireland
My twin brother Cillian and I have been on our own since our parents passed when we were teenagers – our mother from smallpox and father in a mine collapse – so we’ve had to fend for ourselves. Now 23, we’ve grown accustomed to needing no one but each other. We live in our parents’ old small two room house on the hill above a farmer’s fields, where Cillian works as a farmhand to make ends meet. I care for the home and garden and do some domestic crafts to bring in extra income. We don’t have much and every week is a struggle, but we have each other. I know in my bones we can make it through anything together.
Now that we’re both adults, we’ve been told we should try to get me to marry to improve our livelihoods. The farmer’s son has shown interest in me, as well as the brother of a local priest. Both would be able to provide for me and I could make a good home for us and our children, but I’m not attracted to either of them. I don’t want to share a home and bed with them, and change my life to suit theirs. The life I have with Cillian is all I’ve ever known and truth be told, I am happy. Even if I wanted to marry, the idea of leaving Cillian is too much to bear.
As children we shared a small cot in the main room of the house. After Mum died, Pa shared the bed with Cillian in the second room. Cillian’s growth spurt rendered him so tall his ankles hung off the bottom of the cot but not the bed, and although the bed was small it had more space to sleep without needing to press together lest one of us fall off. However, we’d spent our entire lives up to that point pressed together – knobby knee to knobby knee, arms linked, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against my back. I struggled to sleep without his presence so close, and the cot felt cold and empty without his body next to mine.
Then Pa passed in the accident when we were 18 and everything changed.
I was a mess after he passed and slept in fits, tossing and turning from nightmares. I’d see Pa in the mines getting crushed beneath the stone and every time I’d try to save him but couldn’t. The night after the funeral, Cillian told me I could share the bed with him and see if it helped with the nightmares. I think he was having nightmares too, but he was embarrassed to talk about it.
We tried to keep to our sides of the small bed but it felt strange sharing a bed with him and not touching in some capacity. Under the covers, I moved my leg to link with his at the ankles the way we did as kids. It was so dark in the room I could barely see him but I felt his eyes on me. The quilt rustled next to me and I felt his hand take mine and our fingers interlocked. The movement said, It’ll be okay. We’re here together. We’ll survive this. We survived famine and disease and loss, over and over and over. We’ll be okay as long as we have each other.
I rolled onto my side facing him, hand still gripping his, and met the glint of his eyes in the dark. Nervousness gripped my chest and I felt shy to ask – silly and childish – but I had to try. “Can you hold me?” I whispered, breaking the silence.
Wordlessly, he moved closer and I turned away so his chest pressed against my back, our bodies curling together. His hips pressed flush against my spine and our legs locked together, and I felt his heartbeat through my back ribs. The warmth that radiated off his body was more soothing than the flame of any hearth. The tightness in my chest loosened and I shut my eyes, pressing back into him. We must have done this in our mother’s womb, held by each other from our earliest moments. I know his body as well as I know my own.
As I press myself into him, I feel his hips against my lower back and something else hardening. This happened often when we were younger but I never thought anything of it; it was just something his body did, he couldn’t help it. I didn’t know better then. I still don’t know much now, truthfully – I’m still a virgin – but I know now what it means when a man’s length hardens. And I don’t know why, but I find myself pressing against him anyway.
He makes a soft sound, almost like a moan, before whispering my name, “Siobhan…” It stirs something in me I haven’t felt before and suddenly I’m imagining him pressing into me more, deeper and deeper until he’s inside me, and the thought makes me feel tingly. Between my legs feels wet and I move against him more, and the fabric of his shift feels wet as well. I grind against him and I feel him do the same, his stiff length pressing against my ass.
A quiet voice in my head asks, What are we doing? This is wrong, this is not appropriate. This is not what brothers and sisters do. But I realize quickly that I don’t care – I just need to be closer to him. “Inside me,” I whisper, my heart pounding with desire. “I need you inside me.”
His breath is heavy in my ear and I start to turn onto my back to look at him, and when I do his lips meet mine and I melt into him. This shouldn’t feel so right – my heart pounds with desire as his tongue enters my mouth and I taste him, take him into me. Whenever some part of his body is inside mine the feeling sends thrills up my spine and kiss him back passionately, desperate for more. It’s not enough. Shaking from anticipation, I reach under his clothes and find his length, and I’m stunned by the heat and size of it. I run my fingers along it and he groans softly against my lips, shuddering.
“Please,” I whisper. “I need you.”
“I need you too.” He pushed on his elbows so he hovered above me, his hips pressing against mine and his length near my lower lips. I pull the fabric of my shift up so he can find my pussy and grab his shoulder tightly as he starts to push into me. I feel my insides expand as he slips inside, and it doesn’t hurt surprisingly; I was told this should hurt, but there’s so much wetness down there that there’s almost no resistance. I’m so thin that the deeper he pushes inside the more I feel my belly jut out, and when I reach between us I can feel his cock through the skin of my abdomen, filling me up. The fullness takes the breath out of me. The warmth from his hard length is so comforting, and he fits inside me perfectly, like we were made for each other.
He slides all the way inside until he can’t go any deeper, and I lift my legs to wrap around his body, pulling him closer until his hips are flush against my pussy. His body presses against mine all over and I hug him tight against me until I can’t tell where my body ends and his body begins. Any tension in my chest and worry and all my grief and pain disappears as we become one, interlocked.
“This feels so right,” he whispers, his breath tickling my cheek. I turn my head slightly and press my lips to his deeply, kissing him again. “Your body fits mine perfectly,” he says.
“We were made for each other,” I whisper. “We’re all we have.”
His cock twitches inside me and the feeling sends small ripples of pleasure through my core, and I slowly, hesitantly shift my hips in a gentle rocking motion. His breath catches and I deepen the rocking motion as he slowly begins moving his hips too, pulling his cock out of me halfway and sliding it back in. We adjust and move together carefully, taking our time, finding what feels best; sometimes we stop moving entirely, his length entirely embedded within me, and kiss until we need to come up for air.
Despite all of this loneliness, I have never been so certain that I am loved.
We continue in this way, pressure building in my abdomen and tingling feelings spreading throughout my lower half. Our movements quicken slightly as things progress, but remain gentle and passionate, our bodies still locked together as he thrusts in and out of me. Every time he pulls out the hollow feeling feels so wrong until he’s back inside me, filling me.
As our breaths become ragged Cillian whispers, “I think I’m going to come. What should I do?”
“Keep going,” I tell him softly, pleasure making my toes curl. “Please, come in me. I need you.”
His length throbs and thick streams of liquid fill me, emptying inside my eager pussy. He groans and kisses me deeply, so warm and comforting, and the feeling pushes me over the edge. My hips buck and body shakes as I cry out, waves of pleasure rolling over me and overwhelming my senses. I can’t do anything but lie here as the waves calm, my pussy pulsating around his cock.
“Shiv…” he whispers. “You look so beautiful.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I can’t help but smile at him in the dark. “I love you,” I tell him.
“I love you too… more than anything in the world.”
We kiss again, slowly and and lazily, his cock still embedded deep within me. We don’t move, just hold each other tightly as we remain like this, and eventually I start to doze off. I’ve never felt so safe and at peace in my life.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/pl8rwl/19th_century_brother_and_sister_cope_with_loss_by