It's so strange being alone in the house. Onii-chan is out with friends. I thought about sneaking into his room, maybe wearing his shirt or lying in his bed, but it doesn't feel right if he's not here.

Instead, I'm sitting in my own room, and I can't stop thinking about the way his hands feel. Not just when he's touching me there, but all the other times. The way his knuckles brush my cheek when he tucks my hair behind my ear. The heavy, warm weight of his palm on the top of my head when he's proud of me. The calloused fingertips that trace my spine when I hug him.

My body remembers everything. My skin feels like it's been mapped by him. My nipples get hard just thinking about his thumbs circling them. My cunt throbs remembering the pressure of his knee between my legs when we wrestle on the couch. I'm a living record of every place he's ever touched me, and all the places he hasn't... yet.

Sometimes I wonder if he knows how much power he has. If he pressed me against the wall right now and told me to open my mouth for his cock, I would. If he told me to get on my knees and beg for his cum, I would. If he told me to never speak to anyone else ever again, I'd cut out my own tongue.

Is that love? Or is it something else? All I know is my whole body is just... waiting for him to come home. 💔