hot_crossed_buns

Story by MarKirb

>I wake up, a little groggy from what happened last night
>Today is Sunday, 7:00 AM, and I always know what comes next
>Some rhythmic knocking followed by the sweet voice of my mom
>”C’mon, Liena, time for our Sunday walk!”
>”Ok, be out in a minute”, I softly respond as I stood up and walked to my closet
>Before I opened it, I looked at myself in the mirror
>As expected, I was butt-naked, showing off and feeling every curve, bulge, and fold on my body, exactly how I like it
>After that's done, I grab my exercise outfit, something my mom says she makes in the style she wore while working out with my dad
>While the shirt is nothing special, it's the shorts that are unlike what other people would normally wear
>They're made of a mix of satin and elastic, so short-cut the they have no legs, and wrap firmly to the waist and groin, leaving little to the imagination
>My cousin Loan calls them “buruma”, but I think they should be called “sports panties”, they are tight enough to be worn as underwear
>After I get dressed, I look at myself in the mirror again
>The shirt, while soft, felt uncomfortably snug on me, maybe a sign I should slim down a little, but the shorts, while a little tight, they really make my hips and rear look flattering
>Actually, they look so good, I can't help but to feel the smoothness of the fabric, rub my hands all around it, and squeeze whatever my hips and behind are covered by it
>After a minute or so, I felt up my lower half everywhere… except for one spot, which my left hand was lowering to remedy that issue
>But before I could, there was now banging on my door, my cue to go outside and meet with my mom and siblings
>In the hallway, I was greeted by my mom, little brother Lyle, and adopted little sister Bed, all wearing the same outfit as me, different colored shorts being the distinguishing detail on any of them
>”Okay, kids, ready to go to the park?”, my mom asked in her usual enthusiasm, my brother and sister saying “yes” nodding in agreement while I only did the latter half-heartedly, “Okay, let's go!”
>And like that, we were out the door and walked over to the park. The one we live close to takes about 15 minutes on foot, but at the 8 minute mark, my legs already begin to feel sore. While this may be a sign for me to eat less, it is really hard to do so when I’m cooking for four every day and no one’s willing to sample the food for me
>A few more minutes of walking, and we finally make it to the park. Mom and Bed arrive first, the two cheerful as ever, followed by my bro, who was pretty close behind despite lugging a metal bow and archery equipment. I, of course, was long at the back of pack, out of breath and sweating like cold water on a hot day
>”Alright, before you kids do your own activities, we need to do some stretches,” mom says, as if we haven't heard it before. While holding a pose sounds pretty low effort on paper, my body quickly gets sore from these odd positions mom puts me through.
>But after all of that torture, my mom says the words I’ve been waiting the better part of an hour for: “Okay kids, have fun!”
>Bed goes to the playground, mom watches her from the swings, swinging all the while (while half a dozen young men gawk, though I wouldn't blame them), my brother went off to an empty field of grass to set up his archery equipment, and I sat on the bench while I recover as much as I can before we leave for home
>Or at least that's how it usually goes, but 15 minutes later, mom rushes over to me looking unusually mad. “Liena, some mean kid stole Bed’s shorts! I’m gonna go get them back, can you keep an eye on Lyle for a little?,” and before I could respond, she rushes off, most likely not taking “no” for an answer
>Walking to the field, I sit down cross-legged as I watch my brother practicing his archery from outside the danger area (public standard for archers in parks). He was doing basic 20 meter accuracy practice; he draws a arrow from his arsenal, pulls back the bowstring, aims, then releases the string, sending the arrow zooming at the Target
>*Thunk!* “Bull's-eye,” my brother said assuredly as he observed his recent shot on the target. Out of eight shots, six of them are on point, even then it's likely due to the dead center being so cramped there
>”Nice shot, bro!,” I yell out, my brother now realizing my presence
>”Liena?! Where's mom?”
>”She had a short matter of business to deal with,” looking at mom, she's walking back to the playground, the troublemaker, a boy who looks about two years older than Bed, in her arms, to return my little sister's missing shorts
>”Okay. I'm going to do some trick shots, so don't distract me when I'm aiming, all right?”
>I nod in agreement and move back a few steps as he got into position
>THAT position. A crouched one knee position that, from where I'm sitting, can show off the outline of his rear from those tight, legless shorts
>Simply glancing at my brother in that position gives me a tingling feeling in my lower body that isn't my bowels. This hasn't been the first time I felt like this, but they have started very recently, the experience not unlike what I’m seeing now, but under different circumstances
>It was on a Saturday afternoon about two weeks ago, Mom and Bed were out of town that day to gather more fabric for some new dress designs mom was working on, leaving me to take care of my brother at home
>I was walking over to his room with lunch: A big, juicy, smoked Polish sausage and chips. I decided to forego knocking on the door and surprise him with the plate. What happened next would change me
>”Lunch time, Lyle! I made sau...sage.” I couldn't believe what I was seeing in front of me: My brother, completely naked, in the middle of getting dressed, shirt first
>While I'm no stranger to shedding my clothes in private, I was enticed by what he had between his legs. It looked completely stiff and was as long as the sausage I was holding. While I’ve seen it before on my high school biology textbooks, looking at it in real life, on my younger brother, no less, got my mind racing in ways I never would've thought before
>”L-Liena?! Haven't you learned how to knock?!?! Get out!!!”
>My brother may have shooed me out of his room, but the image of that encounter has been burned into my mind like a brand, and I haven't looked at him the same way since