Dear Diary – Chapter 2
By
Caliboy1991

I woke to the sound of the heater coming on. Rolling over, I saw the alarm clock on the nightstand and groaned. I’d practically slept half the day away on the first day of our Christmas vacation. When I crawled out of bed, I stood on its edge to see if Bran was awake. He just groaned and pulled his pillow across his eyes. It was understandable. We had stayed up past midnight binge watching the Mandalorian on Disney Plus.

Mom was moving around in the kitchen and I was half surprised she hadn’t barged in to wake us up. Maybe because it was a Saturday, a weekend, and the beginning of a three-week school holiday. I ran my fingers through my hair. It was short and spiked, dyed a fetching shade of purple, like half the other girls in the seventh grade.

I decided to leave Bran alone and headed into the kitchen, where Mom sat at the dining table, drinking a cup of coffee. She glanced at me, “You’re twelve now, Brooklyn. The least you can do is put on one of those undershirts I bought you.”

I glanced down at my chest; you could compare my chest to that of Bran’s and not been able to say who was the girl and who was the boy. I shrugged and gave her the same answer I’d given her a few dozen times before, “Why, Mom? It’s not like I’ve got anything to hide.”

She took another sip of coffee, “Sorry, sweetheart. Bad genes. Your mom was a late bloomer too.”

We had trod this road before, but with every passing month, I wondered if something was wrong with me. “How old were you when yours finally came in?”

Mom grew thoughtful, “Time gets kind of fuzzy the farther away we get from something. I think I was almost thirteen. But you father,” about whom my mom seldom talked, “was also a late bloomer. So, who can say? It’ll happen when it happens.”

I heaved a sigh. She smiled apologetically, “I’m off work on Monday, maybe you and I can go looking at bras.”

As if a training bra with nothing to train or support would make me feel any better. I shrugged, “I’d rather have the money for some clothes I can actually use.”

Mom rolled her eyes. Over the past few months, I’d badgered her for more clothes. It was hard enough being the flattest girl in school, I would not be the lamest dressed. “We’ll see. My shift starts soon. Closing the restaurant tonight. Some of the girls are going out afterwards, celebrate Christmas a little early. You and Bran be okay if I come in really late?”

Over the past year and a half, along with her promotion, Mom decided she wanted a bit of a social life, too. She’d even gone through one serious boyfriend and a couple of others who were drinking buddies. This Christmas she was flying solo, which was fine by me. I didn’t like any of the guys she dated. “Yeah. By late, you mean sometime tomorrow morning?”

She grinned, “Tomorrow my shift starts at four in the afternoon. Plenty of time to get my beauty sleep.”

“Me and Bran will be fine. Can you leave some money for delivery?”

Mom gave me a wad of tip money, “Here you go, honey. You kids behave.”

Before Mom could get out the door, Bran puttered into the kitchen, dressed like me, in his underwear. He ran a hand through a shaggy main of hair. Even though he was only nine, he wanted to look more like the boys in his grade, and they were wearing their hair long and shaggy.

Mom stopped at the door, and with a smile, wagged her finger at her nephew, “Mind Brooklyn while I’m at work, Einstein.”

Once Mom left, Bran came over and sat next to me at the table, “Why she call me that all the time?”

I glanced over at Bran. The past fifteen months had seen some subtle growth. He’d gained about three inches, although so had I. After that initial night in the shower, where we’d touched each other, the emotions we’d felt had left us both a bit of a mess, and even though we continued taking showers together, it was three months before we washed each other again. The same overflow of emotions hit us again, and that scared us off of those intimate sexual touches for a while. From there, we fell into an irregular pattern, where every few months or so, we’d finally get to where we’d forget about the emotions we’d felt the last time, and try washing each other again.

As I sat looking at him, I realized we hadn’t tried washing each other since the start of the school year. You’d think the Yo-Yo of our intimate moments would strain things between us. But if anything, those moments of washing him and him washing me actually made me feel closer to my cousin than ever. He was so much more than just my cousin. He was my best friend, even if the touching we’d done left us confused.

We could have hung out in the duplex’s little living room, but our bedroom had a nice TV and we could sit on my bed, with our backs against the wall and watch TV. It was more comfortable than the worn sofa in the living room.

That afternoon, we settled against the wall to watch the next episode of the Mandalorian, Bran rested his head against my shoulder until I lifted my arm and roped it around his shoulders, letting him rest his head against the side of my chest. Like I said, we were close. We laughed at the antics of Grogu, although we still called him Baby Yoda.

At one point, Bran jumped up and pretended to be Grogu eating creepy-crawly things. I laughed at my cousin’s spot-on mimicry. That was the thing I loved about Bran; he could tell you every element on the periodic table and almost anything you want to know about the elements. Then turn around, dancing and jumping around, just like the nine-year-old boy he was.

He got himself so worked up over his version of Grogu’s antics that I pushed him over, “No, Grogu, no!”

He jumped up, still chortling, and leapt at me. I had his sixty-five pounds beat by twenty, but he still had enough force behind him to send me tumbling across the bed. We were both laughing. I couldn’t remember the last time we had tumbled and wrestled about. He straddled my legs and leaned over my torso to grab at my hands. When our laughter finally ran its course, realization dawned that when he leaned over, his pelvis came into contact with mine. Fluttering in my stomach, which had been dormant for several months, came back with a rush. Even though we both wore underwear, I realized this may be more intimate than anything before. I could feel Bran’s penis thickening between us, right at the top of my slit.

The laughter died away. Bran’s hands held my arms over my head as our eyes communicated our keen awareness. After I don’t know how many heartbeats, in a low voice he said, “Uh, s-, sorry.”

He was shifting to get off me; yet all I wanted was to feel his fleshy nail against me. I used my extra weight to push him under the overhead bunk and then swapped places with him, straddling his groin and holding his hands over his head. The tingles that shot up my body from feeling his erection lying flat under my lips were incredible.

Bran’s brash, excited expression faded to one of uncertainty. The feelings we felt were the same ones we’ve been retreating from for a year and a half that we really didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t want to move, but I didn’t want to hurt my cousin and best friend either. I breathed, “You okay? Do you want me to move?”

His voice tremored, “I’m okay. You?”

I was better than okay. Starting at that secret place between my legs, my body thrummed with excitement and tingly feelings. By pinning his arms over his head, my body was low over Bran’s. Our faces were only inches apart. And as I looked into his eyes, I recalled that first time we touched one another; I had associated the fluttering with what other girls had said came from kissing boys. Now that I was twelve, I knew the fluttering came from touching. But I wondered about the kissing. Would it make the feeling even better?

Before I realized what I was doing, I found my lips touching Bran’s. The look of shock on his face made me pull back a few inches. He had felt so soft and warm, and my lips yearned again to touch his. But the shocked expression brought me up short, “Oh, damn! I shouldn’t have. Bran, are you okay?”

The shocked expression softened at my voice, gradually replaced by a hesitant smile, “Woah. I didn’t expect that.”

Still feeling like I could hardly control my emotions, I said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

Had my hands not pinned his arms, likely he would have touched his lips. If his were like mine, they were abuzz. “I’d wondered–” he mused, “what it would feel like.”

It was my turn to feel uncertain, “Was it bad?”

A grin spread across his face, “Bad? No way, Brook. That made my butterflies go a million miles an hour.”

It was the smile on Bran’s face that made me do it. I leaned in again and this time kissed him properly. When I pulled back, gone was the look of shock. Bran’s face was one of wonderment, almost like those moments when he discovers something in his school work, like an eureka moment.

I understood him. When our lips touched, the fluttering in my tummy had never felt better. I let go his arms and rested my elbows on either side of Bran and lowered myself until our chests were touching. The previous two kisses had been an experiment. This one was something else. Somehow, both our hearts thundered in our chests. I could feel both as my lips lingered on his for a dozen or more heartbeats. I felt a flash of awareness, followed by a moment of terror as I realized I loved Bran as more than just a cousin, more than just my best friend, I loved him like Juliette loved Romeo, like Cleopatra loved Marc Antony.

With his hands no longer trapped above his head, with all the hesitancy of young love, Bran slowly, haltingly, put his arms around my back. “T-, this is lots better than the last time we touched each other in the shower.”

We traded another kiss. Neither of us had ever kissed anyone before, we scarcely knew what we were doing, but we didn’t care. I was in love with a boy who made my world better.

When I sat up, I still straddled him. I moved back just enough to see the tent in his green and blue Minecraft underwear. I so wanted to see it, to touch it. My hands went to Bran’s waist and my voice shook, “C-, can I see it?”

He nodded and giggled, “You see it every time we take a shower. Yeah.”

I pulled at the elastic band and pulled it down below his balls. I suppose when you go from eight to nine, fifteen months may not make much of a difference. Bran’s nail might have been tad bit longer than three inches, or not. But it was as beautiful today as it was the first time I touched it.

I put my palm on his shaft, enjoying the way it pulsed under my touch, the heat making my hand hotter. The springy-steel of his stiffy felt wonderful as I wrapped my fingers around it. Bran was the only boy I knew, and despite the availability of stuff at school and online, we had lived a sheltered life and I wasn’t sure how to do more than that.

Bran, for all his smarts, was nine. No doubt, he knew the mechanics of reproduction, but there was a wider gulf between his theory and reality than what I had.

Still, I loved holding that pulsing bit of him, “Bran, your stiffy is beautiful.”

He grinned; after all, I was holding his erection. “You think so? Compared to the other boys in the sixth grade, I’m small.”

“You’ll eventually catch up. Same as me. But I don’t care about that. I think you’re perfect.”

“Brook,” he started, “C-, can I see you.”

We were under Bran’s bunkbed, so I couldn’t stand without banging my head. I got onto all fours and then worked my panties down my hips until they were below my knees, and then I worked them off. I returned to sitting on his upper thighs, my legs spreadeagled on either side of him. This was, I think, the best view of my puffy, preteen girl parts Bran had ever seen. I’ve seen a couple of girls in gym class who are pretty proud of the way their girl parts are exposed; their clits practically hang outside their slit. Usually, my parts were hidden inside my slit. Now, exposed, he could see the tiny hood that normally covers my little clit. Even the tip of my clit was visible, if just barely.

He just stared at me long enough. I wondered if there was something wrong down there. Eventually, he said, “You’re beautiful, Brook. Really, really beautiful.”

We’ve seen each other naked so many times, yet I blushed furiously at the compliment. Knowing he thought me beautiful meant even more now. I spread my legs even wider, “You want to touch me?”

With a nervous grin, Bran leaned forward. His fingers brushed against my pubic mound, then he slid his index finger to the top of my slit, drawing it across my nearly hidden clit. I gasped at the powerful surge of tingles his touch sent through me. His touch was at once clumsy and tender. This was the first time for both of us and he took his time exploring my sensitive little button. Every time he ran a finger across it, I felt molten lava surge through me. His finger dipped down into the narrow fold of my inner labia and I felt moisture as his finger found the first of my juices.

He pulled his hand back, holding his finger to his nose, “It sort of smells like you, only, dunno, only more like you than normal.”

Like any scientist worth his money, conducting an experiment, Bran put his finger into his mouth and tasted the first bit of my moisture. He plopped his finger out and explored my clit with it. “It didn’t taste like much.”

After sending shivers of pleasure shooting through me, he moved his fingers into the narrow folds where my juices were now flowing. Sure, I’d felt wet before on several occasions, but nothing like this. When Bran pulled his hand back a second time, a couple of fingers were slick with my wetness. When he put them in his mouth, his eyes narrowed a bit as the flavor hit his tastebuds. He pulled them out, “Kinda tangy; almost citrusy, I think.”

As we sat there, me on his upper thighs and him lying on my bed, I noticed my slit was only a few inches away from his penis, although his penis pointed toward his chin. I was too scared yet to try something so bold as to put him in me, but I scooted forward until his tight scrotum nestled against my slit. It made it easy for me to grab his shaft and play with it some more.

This exploring didn’t last much longer. Bran’s stomach growled and mine followed suit; neither of us had eaten lunch yet. With a sigh of regret, I slid off him, “Let’s see what’s for lunch.”

I saw my panties on the bed and left them there. I might be hungry, but I was just as horny. Finding something for lunch in the nude sounded pretty good. Bran pulled his briefs the rest of the way off as he climbed off the bed. I almost laughed; he looked like he was following his penis into the kitchen.

It was a good thing Mom left some cash for dinner. As we went through the fridge, there wasn’t a lot of food. Still, Bran found some peanut butter and bread in the pantry and I found some jelly in the fridge and we made a meal of it. Bran usually wasn’t a messy eater. But by the time he finished stuffing his face with a couple of PB&J sandwiches, he dropped jelly onto his chest and belly.

After everything he’d done for me earlier, I was only too happy to push his chair away from the table and kneel. I licked a dollop of grape jelly from between his tiny nipples and then, for good measure, licked at them until they were tiny, hard bumps. The jelly that hit Bran’s belly had smeared down, getting into his belly button.

I kissed him from his sternum, down to his belly button, sticking my tongue into the indention until all I could taste was the pleasantness of his body. My face was at his belly button and that put his penis just a few inches below, pointing right at my face. I couldn’t get rid of the image of him sliding his fingers into his mouth as he sampled me. I wanted the same thing. When I pulled my tongue from his belly button, I looked up at him. He wore the same look of wonderment as earlier, and that was all the permission I needed.

My tongue licked at his little helmet, drawing a ragged gasp from Bran as a sliver of pleasure ran through his body. “Wow!”

There was still grape jelly on my tongue so, my first taste of Bran was grapelike. He leaned back in the chair, opening himself to me and I put my hands on the edge of his seat as I opened my mouth and slid past his little acorn shaped glans. His three inches slide effortlessly through my lips until I pushed against his bare pubic area.

Even though I had only dreamed of giving Bran a blow job a few times, I had never expected it to come to fruition. Still, to my tongue’s credit, it seemed to know what it was about, twisting and twirling around my cousin’s narrow shaft. He was just the perfect size for me to pleasure.

With my lips locked around his base, I applied suction as my tongue stimulated him, drawing gasps of pleasure every few seconds. Once, when his immature balls hit my chin, I pulled my lips off his stiffy and then put his taut scrotum in my mouth, including his little orbs. He moaned loud enough that had Mom been home, she would have rushed into the kitchen, wondering what the hell was going on.

I loved the slightly salty taste of his balls, a hint of sweat from a long night’s sleep. But I wanted him in my mouth again. What I knew of boys is that girls sucked on them until they blew sperm. I knew Bran was too young for that, but I still wanted to do whatever I could to make his day. I pulled his balls from my mouth only long enough to get his shaft back inside and then, by opening wider, I managed to fit his entire sex organ into my mouth, tip, shaft, and balls—All.

My mouth was crowded, but I didn’t care. My tongue had more things to attack than it knew what to do with, and Bran tossed his head back, “Oh Wow, wow, wow, wow!”

He tossed his head from side to side as I sucked on him. I only had the vaguest of ideas what might happen, but he gritted, “Holy crap! Oh! I feel like I gotta pee, Brook!”

I don’t think I could have extracted his balls and stiffy right then, and braced myself to have piss fill my mouth. He froze up, going rigid as his little shaft grew even harder in my mouth. Then it spasmed. And spasmed. And spasmed. He moaned with pleasure through a half dozen spasms and as I let his balls slip from my mouth, I realized there had been no pee, just an incredible, yet dry orgasm. I let his still-erect penis slip out of my mouth next and crouched over him, “What’d you think, Bran?”

His eyes were glazed, and he had the silliest grin, “That was… oh, man, that was incredible. I thought for sure I was gonna pee, and then BAM! It was like a million fireworks going off connecting my stiffy to my brain.”

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