45 comments/ 72281 views/ 96 favorites Kissing in Dreams By: Her_Toyboy Thank you to Raconteuse, Lara_Blackadaar, PacoFear, DesmondAndromeda, and Allyourbase for their editing, advice and encouragement. The central characters in this story are over 18. Her face, as she tumbles to my bedroom floor, is a mask of pure surprise. It's replaced by outrage as she springs back up at me. "Hey!" Her growl is distorted by the sudden movement. Before I realise it, she's on top of me again, pinning me to the bed. Her features flush as she glowers down at me. "Why'd you do that?" I'm desperate to have her off me, but I don't dare repeat the idiocy that spilled her in the first place. "I- I don't know. I'm sorry." Anger ebbs from her features, but the hurt is still evident. "Grant, why've you been such a jerk lately?" Silence. Leaning forward, she places her palms at either side of my shoulders on the bed. Her hair is a shimmering curtain. It screens us from the rest of the world, creating an intimacy that I both fear and cherish. My gaze has nowhere to go. "Emma?" Now my voice is distorted. Husky. "What?" "Would you mind getting off me?" Confusion tangles with the hurt I see clearly on her face. For the sake of self-preservation, she's learning to mask her feelings a little, but not from me. Never from me. "Why?" Before I can answer, she hurls another accusatory query. "And why'd you bail on me after school today? I musta waited by the fence for half an hour before I realised you weren't coming." I see her mouth is trembling, but I don't know how to answer. I've never lied to her. We promised each other we never would. But if I don't want to lose my only friend in the world, I'd better start now. And it has to be something she'll believe. My mind is still barren of excuses when her voice breaks the stillness. "You didn't let them get to you, did you?" Some of our classmates at the nearby high school have taunted us regularly about our inseparability. I, in particular, receive no small ration of shit for holding her hand every day on our walks to and from school. I've been to see the principal more than once for losing my temper when some knuckle-dragger teases us about incest. "No, sis. They haven't gotten to me." And that much was true; they hadn't. I love her more than anything on this planet and there's no way I'd let anyone come between us. "Then, what is it?" I lower my eyes and exhale. "Nothing." Her eyes narrow and her mouth forms a tight line. I can scarcely believe it when one of her fists crashes into my shoulder. She's never, ever struck me, other than playfully. "You treat me like a stranger and call it 'nothing'?" Emma sits up and folds her arms. "Talk to me. What's going on?" "I can't tell you." At that, she sits up slightly, her palms on my shirtfront. I wonder if she can feel the violence of my heartbeat. "I can't believe you said that. You can tell me anything." It takes a minute before I can collect myself to respond. "Not this. You'll think..." I can't finish. The words won't come. "I'll think what?" "I can't, Em. I just... can't" She does the worst thing imaginable. Stretching out, she lays her torso atop mine, wraps her arms around my shoulders and neck. She nuzzles into my throat and murmurs, "You can tell me anything. Doesn't matter what it is. You can tell me." I'm petrified. If she shifts even slightly lower, she's going to understand exactly what my problem is. She'll know what a freak her brother is. It tears at me to imagine my sweet sister turning away in disgust. A whimper slips out of me.. She doesn't move from my throat. "Grant. You're scaring me." I try to take some deep breaths. Calm myself. When I've found my voice again, I ask quietly, "Emma? Could you leave me alone for just a little while? Please? I'll talk to you later if you still want, okay?" "Absolutely not. I'm not budging till you tell me what's wrong." "Emma." "Nope. Uh-uh. No way. I always thought we could tell each other any-thing. You telling me I was wrong? What changed?" "It's just this one thing. That's all. I promise. Let it go. Please." She slides off me to rest beside me on the bed, though her leg is still draped across my middle. My gratitude for the space between us vanishes when her hand starts smoothing back and forth across my chest. She means it to be soothing. It's not. "What 'one thing'? Whatever it is, you're making a bigger deal out of it than it is. Just spit it out. You'll feel better once you get it off your chest." When I fail to respond, her hand shepherds my face to meet hers again. "Grant, do you really want us to start keeping secrets from each other?" "No," I whisper. "Talk to me." I take another deep breath and let it out in shudders. I lower my eyes again, so I don't have to see her revulsion. "I, I've been having, um, dreams." When a minute or two passes without me elaborating, she asks gently, "What kind of dreams?" "Umm... about you." Is it my imagination or do I feel a sudden tension in the leg she's left sprawled on me? I glance reflexively down. She hasn't changed out of her school skirt, which is bunched up rather high on her thighs. Wrong place to look just now. But as I quickly shift my gaze, I become intensely aware there is no right place. No part of her that won't remind me of those damned dreams. Those damned, glorious dreams. And I am excruciatingly aware of her warmth and weight of her leg. I'm suddenly conscious of the stillness in the room. I look into her eyes, dreading what I'll see there. I can't read her expression and all I can think is, "Have I lost my best friend?" That's what I'm wondering when she drops a bomb into the silence. "Me too." I can scarcely credit my hearing. When I'm sure she said what I thought she did, I reply, "You don't know what kind of dreams I mean." Her tongue runs across her lips and I realise my own are dry too. And my throat feels positively parched. Is that her trembling, or is it me? I'm desperate to look away, but mesmerised by her eyes. Her soft tones are intense in the hushed room, "As scared as you are, it's easy to guess what you dream of." She doesn't make me wait long before she presses on, "In these dreams, are we kissing?" I nod in mute agreement. I'm pinned to the bed, not by the weight of her body, but by the force of her gaze. "Do we touch each other?" I almost gasp at the words spoken aloud, but I manage to nod again. "Do you ever...?" I feel and hear her inhale as if girding herself to continue. "Do you ever... touch yourself when you wake up from those dreams?" My first thought is that I can't admit that. Never. But then understanding dawns that, in a way, she just did. Unbidden, my mind's eye conjures a picture of Emma with her skirt pulled up, her hand in her panties, rubbing herself. Her eyes are closed, mouth gaping in ecstasy, back arched as she shudders. Fuck. My cock throbs in my trousers, I feel fresh spill seep into my already saturated underpants... I know I'm going to hell for sure. "Grant. Emma." Mom's voice rises from the first floor, startling us both and causing Emma to scramble guiltily off me. As she stands beside my bed, smoothing her skirt, our mother's voice continues, "Dinner's ready. Wash your hands and come on down." We look at each other and I'm struck with the dread that everyone will know, just by looking at us. "Don't tell anyone." Her grin calms me, "You're such a doofus. Who am I going to tell, besides you?" With that, she snares my hand and leads the way to our shared bathroom. When we've finished washing and drying our hands, side by side as always, I begin to make my way downstairs, but she grabs my shoulder. "Wait a minute." "What?" "C'mere." Pulling me back into the bathroom, she closes the door. I look at her expectantly. "Kiss me." "Em," I hiss. Bad enough that I dreamed it, but this? This is beyond the pale. "What? No one's ever gonna know. And um, if you dreamed it, don't you want to know what it feels like? For real?" She gazes steadily at me. Her face draws nearer. We trade breaths and I'm powerless to move. After some great span of time, our lips meet. Hers are warm. Soft. Wet. Heaven. As Emma's mouth moves gently on mine, she pulls me closer until our bodies press together. I feel the heat of her through our clothes. "Emma. Grant. Dinner's growing cold." At the sound of Mom's voice, we untangle hastily. I watch in amazement as her startled expression gives way to an impish grin. That smile has been the harbinger of so many of our troubles growing up. "We better get downstairs," I mutter. "Okay. But I want to talk some more after dinner." "All right." She kisses me once more, a quick peck this time, and we make our way to the steps. At the landing, I tell her, "Go on ahead. I'll catch up in a minute." She hesitates for a second, then continues down the stairs without me. Returning to the bathroom, I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. Unspooling a length of toilet paper, I wad it up and reach into the crotch of my underwear to sop up some of the puddle I've created there. God, what a mess. Another clump of tissue is required. I've soaked through to my trousers, but I'm pretty sure they're dark enough so no one will notice. After a couple of minutes, I figure I'm as presentable as I'm going to get. My stiffness has grown uncomfortable in the confines of my briefs. Besides, If I spill anymore, which is likely, then even the dark colour of my slacks won't obscure what's going on. I shift my erection so that it's pointing up, flattened against my lower belly. The elastic waistband ought to hold it in place and a stain up there is less suggestive than the one I've already made. Flushing the evidence, I wash my hands again and join everyone else in the dining room. Supper passes in a haze. I'm oblivious to the usual chatter and the passing of plates and dishes. Emma's presence in the seat next to mine absorbs my complete attention. I feel the urge to keep sneaking glances at her, but in my extreme self-consciousness, I form the impression everyone's watching us. Midway through the meal, her hand touches my leg and I flinch in alarm. Taking my hand into hers, she leans over to whisper, "Will you relax, dummy?" I look around the table and if anyone noticed our sotto voce exchange, they make no mention of it. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realise to them, it's just Emma and Grant trading secrets as usual. For most of the rest of the meal, I manage to eat with my left hand while she holds my right under the table. I'm simultaneously comforted and frightened by this intimacy, just out of sight of the others. It's then that her words about relaxing, sink in, and I actually do begin to collect myself. After all, if any one of them were to peer under the table and see our fingers clasped, what would they think? That's just Emma and Grant. The way they are. Mom has spoken admiringly more than once about our closeness. She's openly praised me for continuing to hold Emma's hand on our way to and from school despite sometimes intense peer pressure. It's just as she said earlier. I'm letting my self-consciousness distort my perceptions. Once dinner is done, I wash the dishes while Emma dries and puts them away. At one point, she looks around to see if anyone else is near, then leans over and gives me a swift kiss on the lips. "You keep doing that and we're gonna get caught." Out of the corner of my eye I see a smile play across her lips. She moves close and purrs "D'ya want me to stop?" I try to act as if I'm totally absorbed in washing the plate in my hand, oblivious to her proximity. Emma doesn't stir though, until I admit, "No. I don't want you to stop." When the last of the dinnerware is stowed, she leads me out the kitchen door. "There's still at least an hour of daylight left. Let's go see the Berthas." About twenty minutes later, we arrive at the entrance to the woods that we traverse every day on our way to school. We start down the well-trodden path, but five minutes in, we veer to the left and into the trees. After about a hundred yards of tough going through brambles and thickets, we come to a clearing with a boulder in the middle of it. The rock is taller than either of us. Years back, we'd nicknamed the behemoth 'Little Bertha'. Behind it is another boulder that's craggier and larger still. We call that one 'Big Bertha', of course. We've sneaked away to this open tract many a time for a respite from a world for which we often seem ill-suited. Once we climb atop the larger of the two rocks, we have a vantage point that allows us to see anyone approaching in any direction. The truth is though, that in all the visits we've made to this place, no one has ever interrupted us. That's why we love it so. No sooner are we perched comfortably, than Emma asks, "Tell me about your dreams." "I... I did." "Uh-uh. I want details." "Em." "Don't Em me. Give." "I can't say that stuff out loud." "Why not? It's just you and me." "I already told you I can't. Why can't you just leave it alone?" Without warning, she pounces on me and begins tickling me savagely. Caught completely off-guard, I'm squealing immediately. Within minutes I'm too breathless to even plead for her to stop. She pauses and eyes me. "You ready to tell me yet?" Tears are streaming down my cheeks and I know my complexion must be ten shades darker, but I stubbornly shake my head. "Okay. I can keep this up till it's time to go home. Can you?" "Okay. Okay. You win. Please stop." The tickling stops, but she doesn't budge from her resting place on top of me. "You can get off me now." "Huh. Like I'd trust you. Stop whining and start talking." "On second thought, I'd rather take whatever you can dish out." "Are you crazy? You were just about to pass out." "I wasn't ready for you, that's all." Emma begins running her fingers over my flanks in the same way that had me writhing just seconds ago. But this time, with gritted teeth, flexed muscle and a determined focus, I manage to keep my reactions to a few flinches. I'm gratified by her look of dismay. Her hands slip under my arms, "How about here?" she asks with a glee that quickly deflates at my non-responsiveness. "Here?" My chest and tummy are tested next, resulting in some minor trembling only. "Aha. Here, for sure." Her hand slips under my shirt onto my belly just above my waistband. "Hey!" I yelp, "That doesn't tickle. That..." "Yeah?" she asks as her palm glides across my stomach. "That... what?" When I fail to reply, her fingertips slip just under the waistband. "Cut it out, Emma. That's not funny." "Then maybe you better start talking. Else I may haveta keep going until I find something that's ticklish." I'm trying to think of a way out of this standoff when Emma's hand ventures lower still. I clap my hand over hers. "Wait!" What should have been a yelp, comes out as a croak. My throat is dry and my entire body is trembling. "Stop!" "What're you getting so excited about?" Her hand is just inches away from another sticky mess I've been seeping into my underwear. My cock is still in the same upright position since I cleaned myself earlier. I feel trapped. Do I reveal what a pervert I am by telling my dreams, or do I let her discover it herself when she reaches the tell-tale outpouring? She makes the decision for me. Her questing fingers arrive at the viscous fluids coating the hair on my lower belly. Emma's eyes widen in surprise and a soft "Oh," tumbles from her lips. She doesn't jerk away. Simply easing her hand from my slacks, she inspects the glaze on her fingertips. If embarrassment were fatal, I'd have perished. "Dammit, Emma. I asked you to stop." "Oh, stop making such a big deal out of everything. It's not the end of the world. Besides..." she rises up onto her knees, craning her neck in every direction. Apparently she detects no one else in the vicinity. Lifting her skirt, she slips her dry hand into her panties, eases it out again and holds up both hands for my inspection. The fingers just removed from her underwear are glistening every bit as much as those she'd had in my trousers. "See? The same thing happens to me. Hardly the catastrophe you're making it out to be." As soon as I see that irrepressible smile spreading on Emma's face, I can't help but feel better. "In fact," she continues, "that slippery stuff feels pretty yummy when I'm touching myself down there. Bet it does for you too, huh?" I don't say anything, but simply nod my agreement. Her grin widens as she leans closer and asks in a conspiratorial tone, "Have you ever tasted it?" "Oh, God, no! That's gross!" "Who says? I mean, weren't you ever the tiniest bit curious?" I shake my head vehemently. She reaches into her panties again and waggles the well-coated fingers in my direction. "No way." "Big baby." She slips the dripping digits into her own mouth instead, sucking them dry. "I've enjoyed it a zillion times. Hasn't hurt me yet." I have to admit Emma's obvious pleasure makes me curious. A curiosity that doesn't escape her notice. Shuffling forward on her knees, she brings herself to within inches of me. Her nearness is dizzying. Her lips are on mine again, where it seems like they always should be. I could definitely get used to this kissing stuff. Or, at least I'd sure like to, if she's going to be doing it with me. She places her palm on my chest, just over my heart, which threatens to break free of its confines. Kissing her feels so right. So unbelievably good. Too good. God, it feels like I might cum at any moment. I'm so lost in her that it takes my senses a moment before they register a familiar, pungent scent. Her hand slides up from my chest to gently hold my jaw just as she removes her mouth from mine. "Taste," she whispers as she uses the fingers of her other hand to smear her excitement across my lips. As my tongue peeks out tentatively, she dips her hand down again and returns with dripping fingers which she slips into my mouth. The flavour is strange, but pleasant. I'm not quite sure what to make of it, so I simply murmur, "More." The grin on her face says, "I told you so" as clearly as if she'd spoken the words aloud. As I'm sucking Emma's fingers dry for the second time, she asks me, "Can I taste you?" Before I can respond, she places her hand on the obvious bulge in my trousers. "Wait! I..." Too late. I'm so keyed up from, well... just from being with her this way, talking about this stuff, that the moment her hand touches my cock, even through my pants, a powerful orgasm rips through me. My words dissolve into a shuddering moan. Bursts of light appear on my tightly clenched eyelids and tremors wrack my body. Spurt after powerful spurt jets into my underwear and all over my belly. As the pleasure begins to subside, I realise with some surprise that I've been wailing. When I can finally stop gasping, I open my eyes to find Emma staring at me with something like awe on her face. Her hand is still resting on the bulge in my trousers. "Did you just...?" I'm still coming down to earth, so I simply nod my head and rasp, "Uh-huh." "Can I see?" "Emma." "Please?" "I made a mess. It's kind of embarrassing." "I don't care. I just wanna see. Please?" "Fuck. Okay. Go ahead." She unbuttons my trousers and pulls the zipper down, revealing my truly sodden underwear. There are puddles of creamy cum on my belly where my cockhead had peeked from the top of my briefs. Dabbing at one of the pools, she scoops up a small amount to place on the tip of her tongue. The questioning expression on her face is replaced by a look of surprise, then delight. "You taste kinda like me." She gathers another dollop and slips it into my mouth. "See?" Kissing in Dreams She does it so quickly that I don't have a chance to be squeamish. "Huh. We do taste alike." Emma tugs my underpants down to reveal my semi-softened length, lying flat and upright on my belly. I hear another quiet "Oh," escape her lips. My length is glistening and threads of cum are still draped on it. When she wraps her fingers around and glides them over it, I begin to harden again, and a fresh pool bubbles up at the tip. "Are you still cumming?" "I don't think so. It always does that. Even when I spunk into a washcloth, it'll keep seeping out into my underwear for a while after. Makes a mess. I always have to wash my undies and find somewhere secret to hang them till they dry." Her hand is still moving almost absently on me when she notices, "You're getting bigger. Harder. Does that mean you need to do it again?" Before I can reply, she asks, in a breathless tumble of words, "Can I do it for you? Make you spunk?" "Uh, I'm pretty sure brothers and sisters aren't supposed to be doing this kind of stuff together." Her fleeting expression of disappointment brightens quickly. "Can I watch you do it then?" "Hold on, doesn't this seem kind of weird to you?" Her shrug is dismissive. "So what. It's not like we're hurting anybody." "My point is, I'm kinda scared. Aren't you?" "How about if I do it at the same time as you? We can watch each other." Oh God. I've seen pictures of naked women before, but never laid eyes on one in real life. And seeing her? My Emma? I haven't told her cos I was worried it might sound creepy coming from me, but she's the most beautiful girl I know. The one around whom all my dreams and fantasies revolve. I can't count the times I've woken from wet dreams of her and jacked off while gasping her name into the pillow. Seared with shame, but never so much that it stopped me from doing it again the next night. When I think of her showing me her, her pussy--I hardly dare even think the word--I can scarcely breathe and my cock is rigid and throbbing. A condition that doesn't escape her notice. "Look at it," she breathes, mesmerised by the changes her attentions have wrought. It's jutting out, rigid and red, fresh pre-cum weeping as she continues her gentle stroking. Not surprisingly, lust quickly outstrips fear and shame. I muster a croak, "Alright. Show me." How could I - how could anyone - resist the look of delight that passes across Emma's face? Her hand releases its grip on my cock and for a moment I feel the absence of her touch piercingly. She surveys the woods again to make sure we're still alone. Once she's satisfied, she reaches under her skirt and slips out of her panties. As she holds them up for my inspection, it's plain to see the strip of material that runs between her legs is saturated. And, with her holding the intimates so close to me, the smell is powerful. And seductive. "Didn't I tell you? Just like you, except I don't squirt all over. Wish I did. Does it feel as amazing as it looks?" I can't help but smile. "That's what I thought. Mine does pour all down my thighs though." A mischievous glint appears in her eyes. "Wanna see?" Fuck. I hope I'm not drooling. But, who could blame me if I were? I'm quickly distracted from that concern, however, by the sight of her slowly raising her skirt. When her upper thighs come into view, I note that, sure enough, they're slick with excitement. Just as she's about to reveal her sex, she hesitates and looks into my eyes, as if momentarily in need of assurance. She must take whatever she sees there as encouragement, because the next instant, I catch my first glimpse of her naked pussy. Oh my. It's beautiful. Just like the rest of her. There's a triangle of soft fur beginning where her tummy ends and curving lower between her legs. The sparse hair barely covers the puffy outer lips of her sex. I can make out the shine of her juices everywhere. Her inner lips are peeking out, a shy hello from their downy nest. I ache so to touch her that I'm reaching unconsciously forward before I catch myself. The look Emma gives me tells me she can guess what I want. "C'mon. Let's do it. I'll show you what I do while you show me. Okay?" "All right. Let me pull these pants down a little more out of my way." "Why don't you just take them off?" "Are you crazy? Suppose somebody comes around?" "Nobody ever comes here but us. We'll be fine." When she sees my doubtful expression, she tells me, "If you take off your shirt, I'll take off mine." I have my shirt off faster than it takes to describe the doing of it. She giggles at my eagerness, but she keeps her promise. Much more slowly, though. Watching her undo her school blouse one button at a time is excruciating. I've seen her in swimsuits before, but this is so much more intimate. I've always admired Em's athleticism, and now my eyes are enjoying the gorgeous results of her fitness. Her throat and shoulders are both femininely graceful and muscular. The pale bra she's wearing cups her small, shapely breasts, but leaves the upward slopes tantalisingly revealed. The sleek lines of her torso taper to a trim waist and a flat stomach. At the moment, the way she's sitting, her skirt is spread out, draped between her legs. I wish that skirt were gone. It's probably not all that difficult to read my thoughts right now, because she asks, "Do you want to see more?" "Yes." I can barely speak the one word. "Okay, but you have to start showing me what you do first." The instant I touch my erection, a thick, clear glob of pre-cum blossoms on the crown. We both exhale simultaneously. Just as I always do, I smear the cream all over the cockhead and down my length. Every nerve-ending sings out my arousal. And, knowing that she's watching me? Fuuuck. As I look at Emma, she reaches behind herself to unfasten her bra. The garment slides down her arms and her beautiful titties are revealed. I gasp and squeeze my cock. I've learned that I can sometimes stop myself from cumming too soon by doing this. I close my eyes for a minute, take deep breaths and try to think of something else. I hear a rustling sound and open my eyes to find Emma shimmying out of her skirt, peeling out of her socks and shoes. "Fair's fair. Take off your pants." This time I need no further urging. The sight of her naked loveliness has overridden fear and moral qualms. In no time at all, I'm completely stripped. It's then that I notice how she's looking at me. The way her eyes are hungrily drinking in the details of my unclad form. It occurs to me for the first time that this might be as exciting for her as it is for me. That realisation sends another thrill of pleasure through me. My cock throbs in my hand. New spill gushes over the glans, down the sides and onto my fingers. I roll the backs of my freshly coated digits around my hardness, applying the clear, thick fluid liberally. When I return to stroking, that glaze feels glorious. More glorious by far is watching what Emma's doing. The intensity of her stare never wavers as she attends to my activities. All the while, her fingers follow an erotic circuit of their own volition. At first, her palm slides down over her sex, obscuring it for a moment from my vision. But, as her hand comes back up... oh my. Her middle and index fingers splay her inner folds for me to appreciate their glistening beauty. Fingertips rake through petals slippery with arousal, scooping more from the fount. I wasn't aware I'd been holding my breath until I expel it in a shuddering gasp, accompanied by another gush at the tip of my cock. The sticky sounds of our self-pleasuring harmonise with the harsh cadence of our panting. Even outdoors, our sexsmell hangs in the air like an intoxicating cloud. Her left hand smoothes up to cup the mound of her breast. I imagine it's my mouth there instead. Suckling her. Laving her swollen nipple. As if receiving my thoughts telepathically, Emma pinches the reddened bud until her mouth forms a silent circle'. Our hips are rocking now: me, thrusting into my slippery fist; her, with her fingers sliding through streaming folds. God, such an outpouring of fluid joy from both of us. Her juices flow between her cheeks, puddling in the crinkled star of her ass. "Emma," I whine. It's the same sound I make into my pillow every night. Only now I'm whispering my prayer directly to her. Not hiding it anymore. My want. My need. All for her. Only her. I'm overwhelmed at the erotic beauty of her: eyes half-closed, teeth gritted, jaws clenched, mewling, moaning, fingers slipping through the silk of her drenched furrows, other hand still twisting her nipple. I realise that I'm stroking in an unconscious echo of her rhythm. I feel her eyes on me, my arousal leaping at the thought of her watching me. All my most intense wet dreams here, now, brought to screaming life. "Emma." We begin the climb together. "Emma." Even from here, I can see her clit protruding like a tiny cock pouting for attention. She gives in to its pleas, fingers slipping upwards, slathering cunthoney on the way. Reaching the pearl of her sex, she taps it, touches it gently, teases it. Flutters on it. Circles the tip. Faster and faster. Her left hand abandons her breast to skim downward, plunging into her sucking, slippery centre. "Emma. Oh, Emma." Her breathing quickens and mine with it. Our panting is hoarse now. An edge of desperation at the fringes. My fist is a blur. Base to tip. Over and over. Faster and faster. Nerve endings keening with bliss, every inch of my dick lit with sensation. Her hands work in concert, one circling, the other thrusting. We're both about to lose it. Stroking. Driving. Mewling. Howling. Teetering on the brink. Spunk roiling in my balls... when I hear her say the forbidden words, "Grant. Fuck me. OhGodPleaseFuckMe." That's it. We both hurtle into a great screaming frenzy of pleasure. I see her cunt clench and soak her fingers in cum. Her head is thrown back in ecstasy, glistening thighs splayed wide, her sweet body wracked with spasm after spasm of wanton joy. It's the last thing I see before the fireworks erupt in my head. Thick ropes of hot jism surge into the air, splattering noisily over my thighs, my belly and the rock beneath me. As I bellow my pleasure, I can hear her frantic, high-pitched cries nearby. As I return to my senses, I hear her gasp, "Oh fuck, oh God." And I have the incongruous thought, 'What if mom heard her talking like that?' I begin to laugh when the absurdity sinks in. Heard her? Shit. What if she could see the two of us now? I watch Em rise on wobbly legs and walk over to me, without a trace of self-consciousness. God, but she's breathtaking, her face and throat flushed with arousal. Crouching beside me on her haunches, she rests her arms on her knees and her head on her arms. After gazing into my eyes for a few silent heartbeats, Emma's face brightens into one of those radiant smiles that grabs at my heart. And my cock. "That was a-MAY-zing." I can't help but smile back at her. "Yeah, it was." "Look at the mess you made." I look down and it does seem as if I've splashed puddles everydamnwhere. "I know. What am I going to use to clean it up? We need to get home soon. It's almost dark now." Her eyes haven't left the milky spatters on my torso. "Grant?" I'm too distracted by my disarray to notice her keen expression. "Hmm?" "I have an idea, but I need you to pleasepleaseplease not freak out or think I'm weird, okay?" "Oh-kay. What do you have in mind?" She doesn't respond in words, but simply shifts forward onto her knees, leans over my reclining form and begins lapping up the pools of cooling semen. At first it doesn't seem weird at all, but lovely and intimate. As if she were tending to her twin brother. Twin brother. I think of that and wonder if maybe it ought to feel weird. "Emma?" She looks up from her efforts with an inquisitive expression. Her face is glistening with my juices. A small thread of cum drips from her lower lip. When I see her this way, all thought of what I meant to say disappears. "Kiss me, Em." She doesn't hesitate. As she leans over to bring her lips to mine, her dangling breasts drag up my torso, stiff nipples leaving trails of gooseflesh in their wake. This kiss isn't like the chaste ones we shared at home earlier. Heat and ferocity are in this meeting of our mouths. Tongues tangle and lace as we whimper into each other. I can taste my spunk mixed with her saliva. Her hand is on my chest. Glides to my belly, causing it to tighten. Lowers to my naked cock. Her hand. On my cock. How can I possibly describe how exquisite the feeling is? How I ache to... I pull away from her. I know where that thought is going. We need to stop now while I still can. "What's wrong? Why'd you stop?" "It's late. We'd better get home before we get into trouble." "Way too late for that," I think, but keep it to myself. There are no city lights nearby and the moon hasn't risen yet. We shuffle about in the darkness, trying to gather up our clothes and put them on by feel. Somehow, we manage to make it down the rocks without breaking our necks. As we hurry along the path in the woods, she takes my hand in hers, as always. Feels even better than before, but scary somehow too. "Emma?" "Hmmm?" "What you said before, you know... when you called my name?" "Uh-huh." There isn't enough light to tell, but I know she's blushing. Deeply. "You know we can't do that, right? Not ever." "Yeah, I know." She says it quietly and the plaintive tone in her voice tears at my heart. "I was excited," she continues. "I just wanted to say it out loud. Because it felt right. I didn't mean we should actually do it." "Okay." "But, Grant?" "Yeah?" "I noticed that when I said, what I said, um, that's when you spunked." Is it my imagination or is there the tiniest bit of triumph in her voice? It's not like I can deny it. She was right there, watching it happen. "Um, well, it's fun to think about, but, you're my sister." "I know." She squeezes my hand as we walk out of the woods. ***** The next day, when we meet up at the fence after school, the first thing she says to me as she takes my hand is, "Let's go back to the clearing." "Emma." "We don't have to do anything. I just want to talk." "We don't have to go to the clearing to talk." "I know that, dummy. I... I just like the clearing, that's all. It's nice and quiet and best of all," her arm sweeps through the air to indicate our classmates making their way home, "it's away from these shit-heads." When we're comfortably seated atop Big Bertha, she grins, "Don't you want to talk about yesterday?" I'm suddenly wary. "What about yesterday?" "Wasn't it incredible?" Her face is alight and her eyes have a distant look as if she's reliving the things we did. "I could hardly sleep last night for thinking of it. I finally had to have another wank again so I could calm down. What about you?" I don't answer. "Ha! That's what I thought. That geyser of cum you jetted wasn't because you hated it. You should see how red your face is. Your ears are even redder." Biting down lightly on her index finger, she looks at me contemplatively, then an impish smile curves her lips. "C'mon, let's do it again." "No. Uh-uh. We shouldn't." "Why not?" "Because it's wrong." "Who says?" "Huh? Why, um, everybody knows you're not supposed to do that. Not with your sister." "Everybody? Huh. Once upon a time 'everybody' thought the world was flat. That the Earth was the center of the universe. 'Everybody's' full of shit half the time. You're gonna have to do better than that. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't." "Emma, I know I don't have to tell you what happens when brothers and sisters sleep together. They have messed up babies." She crawls towards me, closing the distance between us until she's between my sprawling legs. Just about on top of me. Rising up on her knees, she looms over my reclining form, looking down at me. "Pretty sure we were just masturbating yesterday. Never heard of anyone getting pregnant from that." When I don't respond, she continues, "But, since you bring it up, why do people sleep with each other anyway?" "Um, lots of reasons, I suppose. Sometimes, just because they're horny. Sometimes, they're in love. I'm sure there are some other motives I can't think of right now." "Aren't you horny?" I remain silent. "You can admit it, ya know. It's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it's perfectly natural. Still no reply. "Don't you love me?" "What kind of question is that? You're my sister. Of course I love you." "Yeah, but do you feel the same way about me as you do our siblings?" "No. You know I don't." "Do you enthuse about a poem or a book with anyone but me? When you want to watch a movie, go bicycling, swimming or play basketball, don't you always come get me? Whose hand do you hold every day on the way to school?" She's hit her stride and has my head spinning. "Who do you talk to when something's troubling you?" She leans forward, planting her hands on either side of me. Her face is an arm's length away. "Who do you tell all your secrets?" I could raise my arm and touch that sweet, sweet face. If I wanted. If I needed. "Does anyone on this earth know you the way I do? You know everything about me. Everything. And yet you love me just as I am." She's closer still. I can feel her breath on my face. "Grant?" "Yeah?" "Who were you thinking about when you shot that beautiful fountain of spunk into the air yesterday? And again, last night?" Fuck. "Whose name were you calling?" I'm forcefully reminded why Emma's the captain of our school's debate team. Without taking her eyes from mine, she unbuttons my jeans. "Emma. Don't." My voice sounds small under the open sky. "Grant, I know I'm pretty strong, but you're at least as strong as I am, if not stronger." I'm still lost in her gaze, but I can hear the zipper being drawn down. "Point is, If you really wanted to stop me, you could." Her hand slips into my open trousers, her palm coming to rest on the saturated cotton covering my length. Just as she shifts forward to close the gap between our mouths, she squeezes my cock and taunts, "Doesn't seem like you really want to." Her lips lightly brush against mine. My erection is pointing up again, pressed flat to my belly by the elastic of my briefs. When her fingers whisper up the tender underside, I press my mouth more tightly to hers and groan into her. Pulling away so that our lips are barely apart, she purrs, "When you make that sound, I can feel it all the way in the pit of my stomach. Do it again." Her caress glides back down my hardness. My groin rises involuntarily to meet her touch. What comes out of my throat this time is more like a whine steeped in a whimper. I've never made a sound like that in my life. My eyes are closed as I brace against the ecstasy, but I can hear the mischief in her voice when she tells me, "I like that sound too." While my hips are still trembling just above Bertha's surface, Emma slides my underwear down till my cock springs free with a comical bounce. Once again, I experience the bliss of her touch on my shaft, trembling as her fingers wrap around it. Overthrown by the intensity of sensation as she eases upward. When she reaches my glans, liquid is already bubbling from the tip. She smears it all about, igniting every nerve. "Do you still want me to stop, brother?" The lewd wet sounds of her shuttling fist mingle with my panting in the quiet of the wood, but I can't form the words to respond to her question. Kissing in Dreams "I'm sorry, brother," she speaks that last word pointedly, "I couldn't hear you. Did you want me to stop?" "N-n-no. Please." Oh, God, her hand is working in a kind of corkscrew motion now. Swirling up and down and around. Slathering as it goes. "Please? Please what?" "Please, don't stop." Her fingers pick up the pace, sending droplets of juice flying. My pelivs pumps frantically. I can't last much longer. Just before I'm about to soar, she says calmly, "Grant? You look like you're in heaven right about now." "Yesss." I gasp. Tears are running down my face and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm drooling. Any trace of inhibition is burned away in a haze of lust. "I want you to remember this moment - how you're feeling - the next time I ask you to come to the clearing with me, okay?" "Anything. Please..." Emma's left hand grabs the back of my head and pulls it up so that our faces are almost touching. "Look at me." Her right hand hastens over my streaming length. I struggle to bring my eyes into focus. "You can cum now." Godalmighty. Her fingers sail up my slickened pole, over the crown and I uncoil, bawling hoarsely. Ass cheeks flex, cock rams into her fist and I spew my seed in a creamy shower. My hips and her hand continue their partnership in bliss, but their rhythms ease. Though my orgasm has passed, afterspill bubbles up with each upstroke of her fingers, until my thrusting finally halts altogether. For a moment, she and I are motionless, but for the heaving of my chest and the trembling of my extremities. I'm transfixed by the intensity of her gaze until she blurts, "Fuck, but that was unbelievable." My reply is half chuckle, half groan, "Yeah. Yeah, it really was," as my buttocks descend to the boulder's surface. "Bet that feels a helluva lot better when someone else is doing it to you, huh?" "Whew. You have no idea." Emma unbuttons her blouse, a wide grin animating her features. "I want you to do me now." When I fail to respond, she halts her activities to peer at me. My reluctance must be apparent. "Christ. Not that again. Look, Grant. I tossed and turned last night before I finally had that wank. I worried about what we did. That maybe it was perverted. Sick. And you know what I figured out?" "What?" "I love you more than anybody on this idiot planet and I know you feel the same way about me. We do everything together and share everything. No one looks out for me the way you do. I like to think I do a pretty good job of watching out for you too." "You do." "I think you're beautiful," I blush to hear her say those words. "And I've seen the way you look at me." God knows what colour my complexion is now, but it certainly sets her to giggling. "You just better hope nobody else sees it." Before my mind can fully digest that playful admonition, her tone becomes serious again. "Can you give me even one intelligent reason why we shouldn't make each other feel good?" I try to find a logical argument that will refute her premise, but I can't. Of course, it doesn't help that I'm distracted by her open blouse. Only a slender strip of her skin is revealed down the center of her torso, but oh how it fires my imagination. Then I realise. "Emma! Where's your bra?" She giggles mischievously, "I took it off in the locker room just before I came out to meet you at the fence." "Huh. So you were pretty confident you could convince me to come back here." "Let's just say I didn't think I'd have to twist your arm." I'd only have to brush aside the plackets of her blouse to see her breasts. I ache to see them. Touch them. Suckle them. Such treasure - just on the other side of that open shirt. Fuck. I have to stop thinking like this. She's my sister, dammit. As if my thoughts are written on my face, Emma snaps, "Fine. You're gonna leave me hanging after I took care of you? I'll take care of myself. Sit there and watch if you want to. Or go the hell home. It's all the same to me." She reclines on her elbows. Her legs are open, but her skirt is draped between them. Still, most of her shapely thighs are revealed. What's more, her recumbent position has caused her blouse to fall aside, confessing her tits to my hungry eyes. My belly clenches as she cups one of those soft mounds and begins to knead it. Her head lolls back and a sigh escapes her lips. Making me cum must've had her engines roaring. She's already lost in bliss and she's hardly touched herself yet. Rising to a sitting position, she cradles her breast with one hand while teasing the nipple with the other. The bud is swollen and rosy, obviously thrilling to her attentions. I hear her burble, "Oh my God. That's sooo good. I can feel it clear down in my clit." I'm hypnotised by the sight of her gently rocking, eyes closed as she bites her lip. A downward glance confirms that my erection is returning, though it's still dripping from my recent climax. I'm barely conscious of what I'm doing as I close the distance between us on my hands and knees. I watch the movement of her fingers on her tit as if it were the only thing happening in all the universe. Leaning in, almost as if impelled by an outside force, I feather my tongue on the tip of her nipple. She gasps and her lashes fly open. Our eyes meet for an instant before she whimpers, "Do it again." I can't resist the longing in her voice. Bending to her chest, I lave the entire areola she's been massaging. Around and around with the flat of my tongue. Teasing swipes at the tautened bud have her moaning again, "Ohhh yes." Her back arches, shoving the nipple and much of her breast into my mouth. I inhale it eagerly, cheeks hollowing, then allow it to ease out again. "Fuuuuck..." The word comes out as a snarl that's more lioness than schoolgirl. The scent of her excitement fills my nostrils. A wet squelching sound tells me she's playing in her folds. "Oh Grant," her breathless voice is right in my ear. I continue nursing her as the ache between my legs grows like a fever, making me crazy with want. The wet sounds below me seem different somehow. Pulling away to look down, I'm met with the sight of her cunt impaled over and over by her glistening fingers while her other hand rotates on her clit. Her entire body is aquiver. "Don't stop, Grant. Keep sucking..." I latch onto the hardened nub, drawing it in and releasing it at a frantic pace. I can hear her fingers below working just as urgently. "Oh m-make me cum, gonna cumgonna cum gonna—!" All at once, she's quaking and arching, her hand shoved deep inside, my mouth performing on her tit for all I'm worth. Being joined at her breast that way when she climaxes is incredible. I feel the intensity coursing through her. Knowing I had a part in it is even more thrilling. "Christ almighty," she pants, leaning back again with her dripping hand resting on her belly. "That was un-fucking-believable." "It looked like it," I answer softly. She meets my eyes with a tired, blissful smile. Then she leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Grant. I knew you wouldn't let me down." Her glance shifts down and her grin widens, "You look like you could use some more attention already." I follow her glance to my rigid sex. It pulses with need. The clarity of the stuff oozing from the tip means it's fresh pre-cum and not more afterspill. Reaching down, she collects the dripping fluid and daubs it over my crown. I flinch and groan in response, assailed with a vision of sliding my cock up and down her labia. Slowly, tantalisingly, spreading our mingled sap all over her delicate petals. Until, at last I center myself at her trembling entrance and thrust home. I almost cum at the thought of it. "We'd better get home," I mutter in a shaky voice, "It's getting late and Mom's gonna wonder where the hell we are." I can see the disappointment on her face, but the setting sun reinforces my argument. ***** Over the next couple of weeks, we make our way to the clearing almost every day. I've stopped resisting when she asks. On one or two occasions, I'm the one who's suggested it. Unsurprisingly, we become less and less inhibited with one another. Watching each other masturbate, asking questions about how the other does something and why they do it that way. And of course, putting our hands on each other more and more, stimulating one another to orgasm. Today, we're kissing rapaciously while I fuck her with my fingers. The feeling of having part of my body inside hers is indescribable. Her pussy spasms around my invading digits, gushing warm juices down over my hands, wrists and even to my forearm, as she groans into my mouth. Though her throes subside, our lips and tongues continue moving together hungrily. I hold her face in my hands, her still-warm cream on my fingers, smearing her cheeks and jaw. The heady perfume curls into our nostrils. The instant we come up for air, her fingers wrap around my dick to begin an urgent rise and fall. Within seconds, my head is arched back, ecstatic sounds gurgling from my throat. While I'm lost in the bliss of her well-coated fist stroking my pole, I'm startled by the addition of a new sensation. A warm, wetness enveloping my cockhead. My head snaps up to see what she's doing and I'm met with the breathtaking sight of my crown sheathed in her lips, her hand still shuttling along my length. Somewhere in the recesses of my sex-addled brain, I know I should stop her. It's not right. We shouldn't be doing this. It's going too far. But that voice is drowned in the roaring ecstasy. Her tongue is liquid fire playing on the most intimate, sensitive part of me. And witnessing it all just adds to the intensity. Watching her cheeks draw in as she suckles, pre-cum dribbling from her lips and down my hardness. Her eyes lock on mine, watching the toll of pleasure written on my face. I hear myself gasp amid the slippery sounds of her jacking fingers. I'm close. Damn close. Limbs tremble, balls tighten, glutes clench as I fuck her face. Engulfed in a white heat. No conscious thought. Just the need to shoot my jism into her. All of my being focused laser-like on this instant... ...when she stops. Her mouth forsakes my quivering pole and her grip tightens at the base. My howl of frustration is piercing in the quiet of the wood. "Ssshhh." "Why'd you stop?" "I wanna try something." "Now? Fuckinghell! I was gonna cum! And Christonastick, I really, really needed to cum!" I don't usually curse like that, but I'm still shivering with unrequited lust. "I know, baby." She's never called me that. Something about her using that endearment makes my skin prickle. Fuck. I didn't think I could be any more turned on. The next instant proves me wrong. Pressing my cock flat against my belly, she scoots forward until her sex is poised over mine. She lowers herself until the weeping folds of her pussy splay on the underside of my shaft. "What're you...?" Her fingers press gently to my lips as she makes a hushing sound again. But, what really silences me is the feeling of her sex gliding atop mine. Slowly. Sensuously. Spreading her cream and mine. I can only moan and shudder in response. Leaning forward until her breasts flatten on me and her nose touches mine, she gazes into my eyes, "Just this once, okay?" I'm not sure of her meaning, and it's impossible to think while she's moving on me that way. Sliding back and forth on my over-stimulated nerve endings. Her whispered intensity brings me into focus again, "Nothing bad'll happen if we only do it the one time." Emma's folds lift as her hand grasps my cock to aim it at her opening. She husks, "I should be your first and you should be mine." My glans sliding into her oozing furrow. Oh, God oh Christ. She's going to put me inside her. I feel as if I might fly apart. "No one's ever gonna love you like I do." She's so close I feel the words on my face as well as hear them. Our mouths come together in a punishing kiss as she eases the tight sleeve of her pussy onto my hardness. Down, down, until her cheeks settle on my groin. I'm inside her. All the way. For a moment, we're motionless, gazing into each other's eyes, when she murmurs, "I love you." And there it is. Out in the open. No pretense of chaste, sibling affection. Not simply helping each other to get off. This is an overt, romantic declaration. And it thrills me through and through. "I love you too." I realise, as I say the words, that tears are streaming down my cheeks. I look up at her splendid beauty, feel her warmth enveloping me, her comforting weight atop me and I wish with all my being that this moment would never end. I have the feeling, that in my heart, it never will. She lifts herself slowly, squeezing my shaft as she rises. Just as I'm about to slip out of her, her folds swallow me again. Up and down she sleeks at a tantalising pace. Our mouths meet again and her tongue brushes my lower lip. Despite the fact that our bodies are already joined in passion, the intimacy of my sister tasting me this way makes me catch my breath. Now she's laving my upper lip, then nibbling and sucking them both. My groan of pleasure is cut short by her tongue entering my mouth, twirling over my teeth and tongue. I'm assailed by a riot of intense sensation: the tightness of her pussy, the warm softness of her breasts, the blazing heat of our deepening kiss. All at once. All of it new. And all of it unspeakably beautiful. I break our kiss to warn her, "Emma..." Her breath is coming in staccato gasps, "I-I know. Me too." "But..." She cradles my face in her hands and quickens her pace. "Just ride it out with me... Oh fucking GOD it feels so good... just... just ride it out, baby." That endearment again, sending another thrill through me in the midst of all this bliss, "just this once. Just. This. Once..." I hear the urgency in her voice, sense the control being ripped away from her and suddenly I'm caught in the shrieking tempest with her. Jesuschrist. Our hands clench each other in desperation. Trying to hang on through the fury. Hips pump. I spurt inside her. She spasms around me. Our voices cry out as synapses spark, fuse and explode. When I begin to recall who and where I am, I look down upon her head, which is lying flat against my heaving chest. Her face is hidden from me, but her laboured breathing sounds almost like sobbing. "Emma?" She doesn't stir, except for the oddness of her respiration. "You okay?" That queer sound she's making coalesces into a convulsive weeping that can't be mistaken for anything else. Panic flashes through me, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Without looking up at me, she manages to blurt, "No. Be still. I-I'll explain in a minute." I lie unmoving, waiting for her tremors to subside. When her breathing calms at last, I ask, "You ready to talk to me?" She rises up to plant her elbows on my chest. Gazing piercingly at me with red-rimmed, puffy eyes, she replies with a question of her own, "The things we just did with each other, to each other... what did they mean to you?" "What? I... Emma, they meant everything to me." "So, you wouldn't do those things with another girl?" The last two words come out tight, forced. More tears gather. "Huh? No. Of course not." "Why's that? Because you're faithful to me?" Her grief overflows and streams down her cheeks. "Emma, where are you going with this?" "You planning on marrying me?" "You know we can't." "D'ya want me to have your babies?" "What the hell's gotten into you? Why are you doing this?" "I just finished seducing you. Promising you, 'just this once'. But after we were done, 'just this once' hit me like a sledgehammer. The idea of never sharing with you this way again. And then the thought... oh, God, the thought of you... or me... making love to someone else. Marrying someone else. Jeezus, Grant. It makes me feel ill." I'm beset by a mind's eye image of her in the arms of another. Grief and jealousy roil in my guts with a startling force and immediacy. My vision blurs and tears spill over my lashes. Wiping her own face and then mine, she simply rasps, "Yeah. Exactly." As she begins to rise, my softened cock slips out of her. A forsaken feeling sweeps through me. Will I never be joined with her again? Were we given but the one glimpse of how things ought to be? We put our clothes on in silence. Her haunted eyes speak eloquently enough, though she avoids turning them in my direction. We're halfway home when I realise we haven't been holding hands. When I reach out to twine my fingers with hers, she gently disengages them. The sense of loss is devastating. I want to ask her why, but can't trust myself to speak. After dinner, she disappears into her room and locks the door. The next day, I wait for her after school at our usual spot by the fence. When it becomes obvious she's not going to show, I make my way home to find she's already sequestered in her room again. A knock on the door results in the terse reply, "I'm doing homework." Later, when Mom tells us it's our turn to do the dishes, Emma asks to be excused, "I'm not feeling that great." As she makes her way upstairs, it's obvious she hears me behind her because she suddenly picks up her pace. I muscle my way into her room after she tries to shut the door on me. "Why are you so angry with me?" I don't know how successful I am at keeping an aggrieved tone out of my voice, but I do my damnedest. "I'm not angry. Well, not at you, anyway." "Then why are you treating me this way?" "What do you expect me to do, Grant? I have to change the way I think about you. The way I feel about you. I can't do that if you keep, if we keep..." She wheels about and climbs into bed, with her back to me, her face to the wall. I stand in the middle of her room, trying desperately to summon the magic words that will return my Emma to me. But inspiration seems to have fled and taken hope with it. Unable to bear her silence any longer, I retreat to my own room. I haven't a clue how long I spend crying before exhaustion forces me to sleep. ***** The next couple of weeks are torturous. She slips further and further away from me and I feel helpless to stop the terrible process. No cycling together, no basketball, no reading to each other, no walking hand-in-hand to and from school. I've never felt so alone in my life. So it comes as a pleasant shock to hear her call my name as I'm walking home from school one Friday afternoon. I turn to see her jogging to catch up with me. "Wait up. I wanna talk to you." "Okay." We walk for a few minutes in silence. I can tell she's trying to figure out how to express whatever it is she wants to tell me. When we reach the path through the woods, I veer off onto a different route than she's used to. "Where're you going?" "Home. I don't cut through the woods anymore." No need to ask me why. Instead, she asks, "How much money do you have in the bank?" I've saved a decent sum from neighborhood yard work after school, my paper route and last year's summer job. "A little less than a thousand." "I want you to give it to me." Without breaking my stride, I turn to look at her, "All of it? What for? You have plenty of your own money." "You have to promise you won't tell anyone." "Okay." She wheels to face me, "Uh-uh. This is important. You have to promise." "I said I wouldn't and I meant it. Now what gives?" She looks down and starts fiddling with her hands. I wait. "I'm, um..." she takes a deep breath and exhales, "I'm going to go away." It feels like the words have a physical force to them. I'm disoriented by the blow. "You can't." My protest is muted because I can scarcely breathe. My legs are unsteady so I stumble over to a nearby maple tree and take a seat amongst its roots.