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Sarah is in love with a raincoat.

"How he felt" became quite evident as he began to hump me slowly, sliding his heavy, familiar erection along the natural crease. I sighed again, content, and was suddenly aware of just how aroused I had become from his kind manipulations of my body. As his hand squeezed my breast again, it shifted position, a finger sliding just perfectly across the erect nipple, the gentle sensuality of the act combining with the sweet signal shot from nipple to clitoris to force a soft whimper from my lips.


Just two weeks before our high school graduation, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, his girlfriend dumped him. He returned home that night, a stoic expression upon his face. Our parents having already gone to bed, no one saw that expression but me, and I knew instantly what had happened. We went down to the basement rec room, sat on the sofa, and talked. He poured out his frustration, his hurt, his anger, his disbelief, and ultimately his tears. My shoulder was quite wet when we finally went upstairs to our bedrooms some two hours later, but what mattered most was that I had been able to provide him with understanding and comfort. Once again, I had been his confidante, just as he had been for me so many times in our short lives.

As I stood in the moonlight that filtered through my open bedroom window, I removed my t-shirt. As the near-summer breeze wafted over my bare, dampened shoulder, anger arose within me. I knew his girlfriend, having shared several classes with her throughout our four years of high school. I was angry with her for hurting my big brother, for breaking his heart. Certainly, he had been involved with several other girls over the past few years, and he had been dumped before, but even had I not been his confidante, I would have definitely known that he had cared the most for her. She had hurt my big brother romantically, and I was more than ready to hurt her physically in response, despite my hatred of violence.


His hand gripped my breast roughly, the movement of his hips more insistent against me. His breathing was definitely growing more ragged, but still had a measure of regularity to it. He was still trapped somewhere between full consciousness and deep sleep, lost in that seemingly-unnatural haze. His body was fully aware of what was taking place, but his mind was utterly unable to process it.

I was certainly not innocent in this use of my body. My hand upon his, I definitely did not want him to release my breast, and secretly wished that his other hand could find its way to my other breast as well. I desperately wanted to feel him inside me, feel him fill me again and again, feel him explode within me. But I contented myself with pressing back against him with a passion, matching the rhythm set by his thrusting hips. Soft, lewd sounds escaped my lips, yet I did not care.


Not three days later, my boyfriend dumped me between classes at school. I was so thankful that both our parents worked in the city, because once we returned home from school, that gave me about three hours to pour out my anguish to my big brother. Just as I had done with him a few night before, he held me close and allowed me to empty my tears upon his shoulder. This time, however, we lay on his bed, a bed we had often platonically shared during our childhood, and a realization suddenly enlightened me... we had dated other students, I had been subconsciously searching for a guy just like my big brother, and he had been searching for a girl just like me. And from the way he suddenly held me even tighter, he had just received the same enlightenment.

Even as I continued to cry, I nudged him away and began to unbutton his thin black shirt, baring his chest to my gaze.

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