Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, except the dialogue and my take of the are slightly OC.

I don't think I'll ever be able to play my piano again. Without getting hard, at least. Currently, Callie was sitting on my lap, and I on the piano bench. The funny thing was that there was a giant slit down the middle of her shirt, and a front clasp bra. I guess you could say I have a fetish for ripping.

I had recently come up with the most brilliant idea known to man. If anyone were to stand by our door, they would think we were simply learning piano scales, exactly like our, um...guitar lesson. Fucking idiots.

To complete the illusion, we both have to be sitting up. The best I could do with that is fondle her breasts, that's it. But thats good enough for me. I would fight tooth and nail just be be able to watch her. I would give, anything, just to-

"Brandon? Is everything alright?" She asks, her eyebrows puckering.

"Yes, muñeca," I answer automatically. I'd grown used to the pet name.

"Nothing," she tried to be nonchalant, but I could tell I have hurt her. My eyebrows pucker, but this time from worry.

Callie must've seen my face, so she decided to explain.

"You stopped, playing."

It was good that she was playing along. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay in, character, if you will. I remember once I had slipped on her nickname... I don't think our mothers could've been more obvious to our recent adventures. Our sudden closeness could easily be passed off as sibling bonding.

"I'm sorry, Miss," I apologized. "I promise I'll make it up to you." And I will. Trust me. She giggled and played an A chord on the piano. I tried not to pout. We had to play eventually, right?

"Try pressing more firmly on the keys, Callie," I lifted my hands to squeeze her.. ahem, boobies under her bra. That word was just like vagina. There was no way in fush I'm saying that out loud. She moaned, then, and I couldn't help but let a satisfactory grin spread across my face. The pleasure I received from pleasuring her almost bested my own.

"Sometimes you have to be light with your fingers, because the sound would be too loud," I stressed, signaling for her not to moan so loudly. I can't play if off as if she's frustrated every time. I lightly traced the outline of her upper body. My favorite. If I had to pick one, of course.

I suddenly thought how stupid we must be to have, well, not have sex but, sexcapade in the house while our family was home. I wonder what Mariana would do if-

Oh my jizzing gizzle! Smexy Christmas lingerie, my subconscious teased. Just another 23 days until-

"Brandon?" Callie officially popped my speech bubble, "We're being too quiet," she whispers. I blindly reached out beside me and played what I guess sounded like a C chord.

"You have to make sure you press the notes, simultaneously," I said, while palming her and kneading one...boobie, in my hand. I gotta think of a new word for her...parts. Saying 'titty' is too disrespectful, but how about-

"I think you need to check my slit." My eyes bugged out of my head at her words, but I felt better when she started to glare at the scale sheet she was holding.

Ahh, I thought. Lady Callie was good at this game.

"How'd you get a paper cut already?"

"I don't know, Brandon. Check it." I slid my hands to un-button her shorts.

"Alright, Cals. You have to have patience," I chided, but ran a finger up her slit anyway. She shivered on my lap, then started humming really fast.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to remember the notes you thought me," she said in a casual voice, but then whispered, "trying not to moan. If I could, I would moan your name seven ways to Sunday, but I can't. Not yet, at least."

I've really got to work on 'this not cuming every time she says my name' thing. Pussy whipped. But it's true. I'm head over heels, completely devoted to this extraordinary creature in front of me. But I don't like to actually whip pussy. Playing with one is so much more fun.

Speaking of which...

I pushed my middle finger inside of her, and she turned her face into my chest. But if I didn't know any better, I'd think she was crying. I lifted my thumb top circle her clit and she was gone.

F$fs

Writing down sheet music is the worst fucking job ever invented by mankind. But it was easier this time. The music flowed much better; I knew what I wanted before it was written. You see, the plan is to play it for her on Christmas eve, while everyone is still asleep. I wink at myself. Fucking genius. Currently, Callie's at the mall again with Mariana and Lexi. I suddenly felt really bad. But not for hogging her, not at all, but not giving her a say. I have to give her a choice to avoid feeling guilty. I don't want to trap her. Besides, orgasms always suck when you're guilty. Or so I heard...

I tied the metallic green bow over the Christmas tree paper. Could you tell it was a book?

Callie's actually present to be shown in front of family is a special edition guitar players' handbook. Of course she can't use it. There's no way I'm going to make it easier for her to stay out my room.

F$fs

I felt kind of bad, really. I was never much of a peeping tom. Up until now, I guess. I was watching her chest rise and fall with her steady breaths. She'd fallen alseep at around 8:30; shopping with Mariana could kill anybody.We had planned to actually practice guitar scales on the couch, when she yawned. It was cute, kind of like a kitten. Her head lolled against my chest, and I started to study every strand of hair in her head. Some were longer than others, but they all generally reached her chin. I sighed and figured it was bad for her to spend every night in my room. As bad as it hurt, we couldn't be too conspicuous. So I decided to watch from the door.

Her nose widens when she sleeps, I've noticed. She turned over, then, and her eyes fluttered. I turned to my room quickly; I had to be strong. Once under the covers, it was easier to think. But I couldn't.

"Brandon, teach me...please." Callie was breathing erratically now, and I was 99.9% sure she was about to cum. We were lying in the middle of my floor in the 69 position. My guitar was somewhere around us; I had let it down when she kissed me. That was 45 minutes ago.

"Use your fingers to show me, Brandon." She instructed. Putting slits in Callie's pajamas was the best idea I've ever had. Since no clothes were removed, she can easily walk out the room at any given moment and act like she didn't just have the greatest orgasm known to man. I know, I'm a fucking genius. Now I know how I told myself to br strong, but really. Get real, she's far too sexy. Dangerously, even.

I spread her, tehe...lips wider, but there was no point. I'd done it 37 times in the past 50 minutes. It was good that she's still playing along, even thought it's almost 1 AM.

I shoved my tongue in her, and she turned her face into my side. My tongue went up and down, in circles. She tasted pleasingly sweet, like caramel. I playfully bit her, and she squealed. I lifted my hands to cup her ass, spreading it again while sticking my tongue as far as possible. I started flicking it, and pulled a finger to roll her clit.

"Brandon! I hate your guts!" She shout-whispered, but she sounded amused.

"What did I do?"

She sighed.

"You expect me to be so quiet, but I can't! But just you wait, count. Shit's coming your way." She promised.

Gulp. You know, the one you see cartoon characters do when they did dumb shit.

But my shit wasn't dumb!

Callie un-straddled my face, and this time I did pout. She giggled at my expression, which had stayed the same, right until she knelt down in between my legs.

That's right, count. Deep, deep shit.

But somehow, the image in front of me didn't turn me on as much as I thought it would. In fact, it terrified me. It was easy to see that she'll burst someday, and it'll be my fault. She's pushing herself too far.

"You don't have to do that, muñeca," I tried, but I could see it wouldn't work easily.

"Nu-uh, Brandon. No getting out of this one," she purred, and my cock twitched at her words. Focus, Brandon.

I sat up, and picked her up bridal style.

"Brandon! What the-"

"Shhh," I cooed. "This should all be about you. I promised you I would show you what I meant. Well, here it is."

She gasped when my lips touched her skin. I was giving her small butterfly kisses up the soles of her feet. She curled her toes; I guess it tickled. I moved up to her calves, the inside of her knee, and then the back of her thighs. I licked up and down her butt cheeks making the pattern you would see in a beach ball. I pecked small kisses on her back, criss crossing over the same path twice.

I went back to her palms, praising each finger like it was royalty. To me, it was. Every organ, every cell of her skin was a treasure to me. I kissed every scar I saw. There weren't many, though; her beautiful porcelain skin couldn't easily be marred. I just wish it was the same way for her mind. My tongue traced over her shoulder blades until I got to the shell of her ear.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life," I whispered, and it was true. Nothing could compare to the beauty I saw and see everyday.

By now I was hovering over her; she moaned in response to my words. I just wish I had a way to make them more than that. More than words.

Notes.

¡Hola! I'm back, and yes, I'm alive. Thanks again to all my supporters, love y'all 5ever! (Teenage girl squeal). Tell me what you think of their thoughtful moment, and Brandon's emotions. Let me know what I can improve on, or what you want too see. ¡Adios!

Happy Fostering!

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