I like you more than a brother.

“You seriously can’t figure it out?” Brittney mumbles back while still looking at the floor.

“Figure what out? What are you talking about?” You ask.

“Wow, you are dense.” She responds before looking at you. “I like you more than a brother.” She adds with a flushed look on her face.

“What? How am I supposed to figure that out?”

“Ever wonder why I always dressed in just a thong and that t-shirt with so many holes in it that it probably shows more skin than it does cloth when mom is working. Or how I always get you to watch those cheesy sex shows on Cinemax. Or how I always masturbate very loudly when I know you are awake.” She explains. Your eyes go wide as it dawns on you that Brittney has fantasized about you for a long time.

“Why didn’t you say anything, and what about all of my friends that you have dated?”

“Because I wasn’t sure what you would do if I said anything. And I hooked all of them up with one of my easy friends to tell you that we dated.” Brittney responds. “So now that I held up my part of the deal, what about you, did you get laid?” She asks, her voice quivering a little as if she was afraid of the answer.

“No, I didn’t have sex with her. She went down on me in the theater, and I used my hand on her.” You answer.