The sunsets here are unreal. All gold and pink over the water, like the world is on fire in the best way. I sit on the beach and watch it every night, my feet in the sand. It’s the only time the island feels… quiet. Not terrifying. It gives me space to think, which is dangerous sometimes.

My head is a weird place now. I’ll be trying to weave a stupid basket from reeds (still failing, btw), and my brain will just… jump tracks. I’ll remember the silk sheets on my bed back home, how they felt cool and slippery. And then I’ll think about how my brother’s skin felt against mine last week when we had to huddle for warmth in that little cave during the storm. Not in a sister-way. In a way. The heat of him, the solid muscle of his chest under my hands, his breath on my neck. I could feel the shape of his cock pressed against my thigh through our clothes, hard even in the cold. I pretended to be asleep. My heart was beating so loud I was sure he’d hear it.

I know it’s fucked up. I know. But out here, all the old rules are just… gone. Washed away with the jet. There’s no one to see, no one to judge. Just us. And the guilt that eats me alive for putting us here gets tangled up with this other, hotter, needier feeling. Sometimes I catch myself staring at his hands when he’s making a spear, imagining what those calloused fingers would feel like inside my pussy. Would he be rough from all the work, or would he touch me like I’m still his fragile little sister? I dream about tasting him, about wrapping my lips around his cock and making him forget this hell for five minutes, making him moan my name into the jungle air instead of just ‘Lisa’.

It’s a fucked up fantasy to have about your own brother while you’re fighting to survive. But surviving is more than just food and fire, isn’t it? It’s about feeling something other than fear and regret. He’s the only real thing left in my world. And I want all of him.

#IslandLife #Uncharted #Confessions #SiblingStruggles #NewRules