At first I thought of not saying anything, but the moment seemed right for me to show some additional tenderness towards her. I reached slowly and rubbed my hand on her T-shirt, while saying: “I am sorry, Sis. I made you wet.”
She looked down on my hand which was caressing the area between her neck and her cleavage, and replied: “It’s okay. I kind of like the feelings.”
I knew we had bonded at a different level. It wasn’t a brother offering a shoulder to his sister. It was—and the realization sent a chill through my body, almost a wave of fear—a man providing just the right response to a woman. I had created a new dimension in our relationship and I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. May be our relationship now included friendship as part of its ingredients, or even more. If that was true, then it was indeed a very special thing for us both in addition to being brother and sister.
There was no denying that there was a certain amount of intimacy between us, but there was no way for me to consider it sexual, although my responses were quite clearly sexually motivated. I was feeling aroused. I had a tremendous erection. My body was warm all over. My breathing was irregular. But, nowhere in my mind were the thoughts of actually having sex with my sister, and I wasn’t entertaining any fantasies about laying her.
Yes, we were overly affectionate, but I attributed it to the rubber band effect of our separation. We had extended quite far in one direction because of the distance I had created between us, and were now just snapping back in the other direction. But, I expected us to soon stabilize and get back to our normal, natural state of being. The moment seemed perfect for me to pull her into myself once again for another hug and she responded by moving against me. We held each other once again, listening to the silence of the night and the sounds of our breathing.
I don’t know if she came back to my room later that night or not because I fell asleep soon after hitting the bed. When I woke up the next morning and looked for her, she had gone to the city for some errands. I wanted to take her up on that tour offer but I had to leave it for another day.
I did finally get a chance to spend some time with my mom.
She gave me breakfast and joined me with her cup of coffee when I finished. We made some small talk and then finally I asked her: “So, how are you mom?”
She replied: “I am okay son. It is nice to have you back.”
“No, mom. How are you, really?”
“I am okay son.” She repeated her answer. I guess she didn’t quite catch my emphasis. “A bit lonely, but okay otherwise.” Then again, maybe she did.
“Well, this place can do that to you. Have you made any efforts to counter that?”
“There is not much one can do about it. This place is too small and the possibilities are little to nil.”
I sort of knew what she was talking about but I didn’t want to dig too deep. It was my mother we were talking about and I had a limited number of suggestions before things became uncomfortable for the both of us. I just listened.