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Intimacy

By: H. Jekyll



On the second evening of the Yangtze River cruise, I slipped on deck and saw two women from our tour group kissing. They had found a niche formed by some superstructure and a lifeboat, where they thought they would be hidden, where they thought they could see anyone who approached. I slid to a shadowed area and watched them kiss.

They were roommates, but more, always together. Any time one was there, the other was close. Of course there had been friendly speculation that they were gay, but they were circumspect and the speculation was just to pass time on the tour. If they had been older no one would have thought about it at all. 

Or maybe they would. The couple made a lovely contrast. One was an administrator from my school, fair, with blown-dry, gray-blond hair. No, not fair, but pale. Creamy, English pale. And funny. She had an unlimited supply of jokes, could spout Simpson's lines, and once, when we had over-sampled the local beer in Shanghai, she had managed to count to five in one belch. I would laugh at her jokes and try to one-up her, but I also liked to look at her. Her friend was dark, with dark brown eyes and dark curly hair. She was quieter and more serious. Perhaps she had a darker soul? She listened more than she participated. Both were athletic and trim, one trait they shared.

Now they were kissing and everything was different. I watched them brush their lips on each other's, their mouths open only slightly. The pale lover put both her hands on the brunette's cheeks, caressed her cheeks with the backs of fingers, moved her mouth over cheeks, eyes, back down to mouth. She combed fingers through that curly hair. 

I was creeping, slowly, quietly, to see better, but they had become lost in each other, so had grown oblivious to the possibility of discovery. There were murmurs and I heard one say, "Yes, please." I couldn't hear their breathing but I heard rustlings as they moved. I was that close. 

I hadn't been aroused in, how long? Days? Weeks? That dry spell was over. The dark lover moved her hand in a lazy s-shape all the way down the other's front, ending between her legs. I heard her unsnap and unzip slacks, and she must have pushed her fingers deep inside panties. She ignored a soft protest: "No, not here." Her companion didn't mean it, not really. She leaned back against a rail and pushed her hips out. I caressed my penis, the full length of it.

I was surprised at first that they were taking this chance, but the moon was full and the terraces marched up the incredibly steep slopes of the gorge, almost from the water all the way to the stars. Everything white -- railings, life preservers, deck chairs, walls -- had a faint iridescence, as though illuminated in black light, and there was enough light in their hideaway to show their faces. It was enough to illuminate the pale lover's teeth, to make them unnaturally white. It was enough to show her cupping both her hands over the other's breasts, even as she tilted her head back. 

When I left the bar I had been captured by that otherworldly light, so different from the fluorescent glare in that vinyl-clad room where our group watched karaoke sets on the TV. If I had not been quiet, because the spirit of the night demanded it, they would have seen me. They must have been captured the same way: the night had called them out. There were only the three of us in the world, our little world. They moved their mouths over each other's and then moved their breasts against each other's in circular motions, but the darker woman kept her fingers buried. She moved her hand in and out, smoothly, over and over. My penis swelled enough to push against my slacks. I rubbed the head; it throbbed. The blonde made a sound in her throat and the other bent to nip the tip of her breast.

They were suddenly aware of me and jerked apart, trying almost comically to appear nonchalant, the way Lucy would if Ricky had caught her giving Fred Mertz a blow job. One was fooling with the snap of her slacks, though, and both looked stricken. My fair lady seemed about to cry. In the moonlight I could see liquid gleaming in her eyes.

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude." 

It always helps to sound a little hesitant in these situations, to let people know you aren't being predatory. Though of course I had been. I backed away, turned, and went inside, to my cabin and my wife. They hadn't said anything, or moved after they'd pulled apart. They could have been statues.

*****

I lay in bed that night, listening to my wife coughing occasionally in the dark, but mostly playing the kiss over and over while moving my hand quietly, tickling the shaft of my penis, using my thumb to rub my fluid in a circular motion around the underside of the head. I saw the movement of the brunette's hand, heard, "Yes, please." Were they worried about my catching them? I rubbed my slippery penis. I was very still and worked hard to control my breathing and not to shake the bed. I saw a face, so wan under the moon, and then I stopped. Her look had been woebegone. Lost. Her eyes had been swimming in tears. 

After a bit I entered a fantasy in which her eyes were half closed and swollen with desire. I did something to her to bring her to ecstasy. She whimpered, "Yes, please." Then I came.

*****

They weren't at breakfast the next morning. 

I thought to go to their cabin, to look in on them, but decided it would just compound their embarrassment, and anyway I didn't know what I'd say. That I was sorry I'd seen them kiss and caress each other? They were, both of them, successful in their careers, and they must be tough-minded. They would live it down. But I couldn't keep my mind on anything else. I wanted to see them and didn't want to. I asked casually if anyone had seen them around.

Around midmorning she sought me out in the bar, my pale administrator. She certainly was not creamy now, but washed out, almost pasty. She was trying to look nonchalant again, and again not doing a very good job of it. Her eyes were bloodshot. I think she hadn't slept. She always wore a little bright red lipstick, but not this morning.

I was schmoozing with some other tour members. She stood beside and slightly behind me, sipping a diet coke, pretending to listen to people's stories, waiting for a time when attention was elsewhere. From time to time I turned to her to smile and nod in a friendly fashion, really wanting to talk with her, but she wouldn't look me in the face. Then she seemed to screw up her courage and bent to whisper to me, asking if I would come outside with her. 

We went out the back exit, not talking or looking much at each other, and climbed to the open observation area over the bar, away from everyone. The sun was brilliant, so that we had to shield our eyes. The wind blew with the passage of the ship along the river. 

She didn't know how to begin. After a false start, she said, "Look, I can guess what you think you saw last night, and maybe what you thought was happening."

Then she stopped. She didn't know what to say or even what to admit. She had to think I would out her, ruin her career, and destroy her social life. Frankly, I don't think I could have accomplished all that, and maybe she should have realized it. But how would I take it if someone had discovered my dark side?

I waited for her to go on but she was frozen, even her mouth. The wind blew her hair into her face and when she pushed it back I could see she was again almost crying. She was facing the sun and the light made her look odd, ghostly, like she might disappear at any moment. I decided that I would have to step in.

"I didn't see anything last night. I was in the bar all evening. I saw nothing anyone will ever know. Please now. Don't go expecting the worst."

"But what, I mean, what, well what must you have thought of us?" 

She wasn't hearing me. Her chin was quivering. I'd never seen that in an adult. She had been cheerful and confident and outgoing. Now she was terrified, trying not to cry, swallowing hard, and she looked so vulnerable that I fell in love with her right then. 

I liked her and would have liked to fuck her, but I didn't want to love her. Nonetheless, it happened. I could almost stand outside of myself and watch the transformation, and amidst everything else that was happening at the same moment I made out a mocking comment from some odd corner of my mind: A crush on a lesbian? Why not just shoot yourself? 

"What I thought?" 

It was time to take a chance. Carpe diem. 

"What I thought was that you were beautiful. The two of you were, but especially you. I didn't think anything bad of you." 

The ship's horn blasted through us. It was announcing us to any boats coming upstream, as we rounded a bend. We were far too close to it, so that it vibrated through bodies and drowned out everything. But it gave me time to think. Then:

"Maybe for a moment, just for a moment, I felt some ... jealousy, or regret. Because I could imagine how your mouth felt. I could imagine sharing your breath. And I knew you weren't for me." 

Oh hell! End this nonsense!

"I wouldn't ever expose you. Please believe me. Go tell your roomie. You don't have to worry."

Then she did start crying. She had been holding everything in all night and had believed whatever the absolute worst was. Her face crumpled. She was standing there helplessly, not even trying to hide it, while I looked around to see if anyone would stumble onto this scene. 

I took one of her hands and whispered, "It's okay. It's okay. Really. Here." 

I pulled her close, pulled her to me. She put her face between my left shoulder and my chest. Ah damn, damn it, no! Don't do this to me! I was completely aroused again, and I hated myself. I put my left arm around her waist. I stroked her hair a very light stroke with my right hand. I kissed her hair. She smelled wonderful. This would be my one time to feel her body against mine. "There, there," I said.

*****

At lunch they sat at our table. They looked tired and drawn and said they'd been a little sick. Everyone understood. Who hadn't been? As time passed, though, they entered the conversations, grew jollier, sampled the dishes off the lazy Susan, told tales. My wife ate a little and returned to our cabin and the jokes and comments continued. 

To his darling: If I love you, what business is it of yours? The line I was thinking is an old one, from Goethe. The couple was sitting directly across from me, acting as though nothing had transpired, and I was trying to do the same. More, in fact. I had to hide what I knew of them, which wouldn't be difficult. The hard part was hiding my feelings from them, so I was helping them play a role for the audience at the table at the same time that I was playing a role for the two of them. It was hard work. 

We were joking about administrators and about using The Force only for good. When the couple got up to leave, my ghostly darling stopped behind me, put her hands on my shoulders, and announced that henceforth as a new adminstrator I should be called "Grand Pooh-Bah." 

I said "Make that Grand Pooh Bear," but my attention was focused on her hands and I found it hard to be witty. 

Her hands were soft and warm, the way you'd expect. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them except that they were perfect. I didn't want to feel like a moonstruck teenager, but there she was standing almost against me, resting those hands as lightly as ectoplasm on my shoulders while she joked with someone, and I was filled with that fantasy about being the one guy who is man enough to turn her straight. She bent and kissed the top of my head theatrically. I patted one of her hands. 

Then she put her mouth next to my ear and said, "Can you come up to our cabin when you finish here?" 

No, I don't remember the rest of the meal. Would you?

*****

I'm adult enough to know what fantasies are and aren't. They aren't to be taken for the genuine article, for guidance on how to act when she confesses her love and slips off her robe, revealing a perfect body, because that isn't going to happen. My fantasies wouldn't stay banished, though. They were worlds better than what was going to happen. Most likely she wanted to apologize for crying up on deck earlier. In the worst case they would formally thank me for keeping their secret, reinforcing what I already knew, that I was forever an outsider to them. 

But she was alone, and serious, and wanted to talk.

It was as awkward as it could be. "I ... wanted to thank you for being so kind to me today." 

I had a retort about rescuing damsels, yadda, yadda, but it wouldn't come out, so I said something about being happy to be able to help. It grew quiet awfully fast. The cabins had lovely, dark paneling, and she moved her hand back and forth over some wainscoting, going with the grain. A boat went past the window traveling upstream, and still nothing was said. Finally, in hardly more than a whisper: 

"Did you mean what you said this morning? I mean about us? About me?" 

Cyrano de Bergerac would have the magic answer that would clarify everything and win her, but that wasn't me. So after another moment I just said:

"Yes. Everything." Then, "I'm not usually so bold."

Again, silence. We couldn't have been more than three feet apart in that tiny stateroom. This wasn't right. I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have come. I should make my excuses and leave, so I could be miserable alone. I almost did, when she spoke: 

"No one ever said anything like that to me before. It won't leave my mind. It was the most beautiful thing anyone ever told me." 

Then she stepped forward and kissed me very lightly on the lips.

My hand went to her cheek and I stepped backward, bumping the desk behind me. Something was squeezing my chest. I didn't know what to think. It was hard to talk, without any air. Finally I managed: 

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I know it can't be. I shouldn't have said anything like that when you were so upset." The thought came unbidden: so lovely.

She was suddenly relaxed and happy. She put her right hand up on my left cheek. 

"Don't be so certain it can't be, you silly head. A lot of us have been with men before, and some of us like men." 

'Silly head'? What was she leading up to? Her 'us' was my 'them,' and that was what made this impossible. She paused, then became serious: 

"And I like you so much." 

She came to me again and we started kissing. I had a hand where her waist flared out to her hip, and one in her hair. She kept caressing my cheeks while we kissed. Her tongue flicked between my lips and I captured it and sucked on it. I still didn't believe it.

Things are complicated when you're an adult. There was something I had to know. "What about your roommate? Will she barge in on us, or do we have a limited time, or what?"

She giggled. I wouldn't have expected that. It just burbled up out of her. Her eyes were half closed, but she smiled and said: "She doesn't mind. She and I, we're not like that. We're not lovers or anything. We're just friends who like to get together sometimes to travel and play. And the fact is, she thinks you're cute." 

We kissed some more, and I stroked her neck with my finger tips. I was still shy about touching her body, but growing bolder. "So," she finished, "we have all afternoon if we want it."

"Maybe we could all play grown-up games together?" 

She used a Mae West voice: "Not today, big boy. I'm all you get." 

*****

There are only so many ways to sex your partner, only so many things that you can do, and you enjoy doing them over and over. It isn't any different if you really care for someone. It is in one respect, sure. The experience has a different quality if you've fallen. Still, there isn't anything you can do in love that you can't do just for passion. So shall I tell you what we did? Do you want to hear it again?

How often have you unbuttoned a blouse and pulled it open, or had yours opened? She wore a white blouse, a white bra, white on white on her white skin. I undid her pants so I could take the blouse off completely. She reached behind her back to unfasten the bra, and I pulled it off. She looked at me the whole time she did it. Do women know how erotic the unfastening is? 

The first look at our partner's body is exquisite, always different than we expected. She was like other women, her own version. She held her hands to her thighs and presented her chest to me, and it was obvious she didn't need the bra. Her small breasts wouldn't sag; they went with her body. The flesh of her breasts was more creamy even than her face, and had beauty marks. It added to her ghostly aspect, but her nipples were long and pink. I suddenly thought of that limerick about the man who made love to a beautiful ghost. But she was solid, a body of flesh to fuck and love.

I did what lovers do, what you have done. I licked and sucked on her nipples, first one side and then the other, while she kissed my head and ran her hands down my back. When I looked up, she had gone red and blotchy from the tops of those breasts, up her neck, all the way to her chin. No ghostliness there! Her eyes were swollen and half closed, exactly as in my fantasy. 

My penis ached from being confined to my jeans. I didn't want to take it out too soon, in case it might ruin things. When had she last seen a penis? You say you never worry about that? I hadn't with any other lover, either.

I pulled her slacks down and helped her get them off. She wasn't shy. It was as though she was used to someone undressing her. 

Her panties were pale blue, setting off her belly and hips. I knelt and kissed her belly, which was smooth and firm, and rolled her panties down. Her sparse pubic hair was like corn silk, but on her it looked almost dark. I would get down there soon enough. She had a faint appendicitis scar, paler even than her skin.

She kept stroking my hair. Was she like this with all her lovers? Was I? Every lover is aroused by different things. I gave her a hickey just below her navel, leaving a red mark on her belly, and she gasped and then held my head tightly to her while I did it. I stayed there for a moment, feeling her belly move in and out as she breathed. 

"Oh, you're bad a man." 

She used a breathy, Marilyn Monroe voice. She was still holding my head to her. I pulled back to see her face.

"I'm usually more evil than this. Am I being too soft on you?" I would be softer if she wanted.

"How evil are you?" Still in the Marilyn voice. Then she shifted the topic and offered me much more than I expected. "Do you want to do bad things to me?" 

During the last sentence there had been a catch in her voice, and a little extra breathlessness. She couldn't know what I liked; no one here did. I looked up at her and her expression was anxious and excited. Have you seen that look? I stood.

"I want to do every bad thing to you. Everything you'd like." 

After I said that she looked in my eyes for a long moment, then wrapped her arms around my neck and put her head to my chest. She held me very tightly.

In her own voice she said, "I'd like you to do things to me. But I'm a little afraid. I'm really not very experienced -- oh don't be so surprised. And I'm just finding out things about you." 

She held her head against my chest the whole time she talked. 

I moved my hands lightly all the way up her back from her flanks and felt her get goose bumps. I loosened her arms and held her back from me a few inches. I looked in her eyes; just below was her mouth, slightly open, inviting me. What would I like? What would we like? If I didn't talk right away I was going to start kissing her again. I pulled her arms behind her and held them at the small of her back. She leaned against me, head back, looking back in my eyes. Why wasn't I naked too? I took a deep breath. 


Intimacy



"Everything about you surprises me." This made her smile. "Let's just take this one step at a time, and find out all we can about each other. There's plenty of time to try whatever we want. Right now I'd like to explore your sweet body. So ... can I handle the merchandise?"

"Well, only because you're one of our favorite customers."

But she wanted to undress me first. She started with my shirt and followed the same basic order I had. Once my shirt was off she moved her hands over my chest, starting with my nipples. Her palms were on my nipples and her fingers were on the skin around them, caressing. She licked up my breastbone, then took my nipples in her lips and sucked at the same time that she fondled my upper-chest muscles, my ribs, my stomach. Her hands explored constantly. I held her face to my nipples; she was sucking almost too hard, but I didn't want to make her stop. I thought my prick would explode.

Once she had my jeans off she wouldn't stop looking at my underwear, and then she wouldn't stop looking at my penis. It curved up out of my graying hair. It bobbed a bit. It was dark, such a delicious contrast to her skin. It almost always is, no? And we love that. I went up to her and moved it back and forth across her stomach. It was hotter than her skin. She stared down at it.

"Close your eyes." 

Why do women get so excited by this? Why do I like it so when they do it? I started touching her as lightly as I could, running my fingers here and there, up her back, over her breasts, across her ass, along her throat. Light strokes always seem best. Her breathing grew shallower and she became flushed again.

"Spread your legs." 

She did, swaying dangerously in the process. She kept her eyes closed. As lightly as before, I ran my fingers up the insides of her thighs, on both sides, then on up through her lips and over her belly, ending at the hickey. The first feel of her pussy, when slippery fluid coats just the opening of her lips, is exquisite. She made her first tiny groaning sound.

I wanted to play with her ass -- I always do -- so I had her kneel down with her head and shoulders on one of the beds. Her eyes were still closed. She started to say something and I shushed her. 

Her anus was like anyone else's, brown and puckered. I tongued it and she groaned again. She was curling and uncurling her toes. I tickled her ass, moved my fingers around and around her anus, then tickled her on that spot right between anus and vagina that is so sensitive to brush strokes. Have you ever done that? I pushed two fingers all the way into her vagina, but I stayed well away from her clitoris. I wanted to give her sweet torment for awhile. My fingers went right in.

I got up and rummaged through their toiletries to find some petroleum jelly. I lubed my right thumb, put it to her anus, and pushed in softly. Her eyes flew open.

"Wait, no, wait, just a minute." She had been caught by surprise.

"Do you want me to stop this?"

She paused, but only for an instant. Then, "No. I'm sorry. I just wasn't ready. I didn't mean to make you stop."

She was so willing for anything I wanted to do, one of those people who are stirred by having things done to them. I lubricated my thumb again and pushed it all the way into her rear. Her sphincter was tight around my thumb. It might have been virgin. I played with her vagina with the other hand, until her breathing deepened again, then I began fucking her ass with my thumb. It brought me currents of sexual pleasure. I hand-fucked her front and back, moving my hands slowly. 

During this she was lying with her cheek on her hands, her eyes closed again, and I could study her face while I played with her. She was marvelously expressive. She would close her lips tightly, and a vein would stand out on her forehead. Her eyes were not just closed, but squeezed shut, as though she was concentrating, and she kept tilting her head back. Then, she would open her lips in an 'O' and pant. Among her pants were little whimpers and groans, not loud at all, but loud enough for me. I played with her and watched her and listened to her for awhile.

I wasn't sure what to do next. I stood and pulled her up. I picked her up like you would carry a sleepy child, kissing her mouth and letting her feel how strong I am. She curled her body into my arms, her head on my shoulder, one arm around my neck and a hand barely resting on my chest, ready for whatever I wanted her do. I could smell her hair when I wasn't kissing her. 

I told her, "You are even more beautiful right here." 

I couldn't hold her very long, at least not easily. It felt a little silly, though I did enjoy it, and I wondered what to do next. After a few minutes I lay her back on the bed, spread her legs, knelt between them, and began licking and sucking her. 

Don't ask why I took so long to get to this. Maybe I was shy, thinking perhaps that I couldn't satisfy her, she who had been eaten by women. Maybe I'm an idiot. 

I shouldn't have worried. She was a lover of the mouth, urging "yes, yes," in a hoarse whisper even before I had begun, cooing, tangling her fingers through my hair and pulling. 

Though I know not all women like cunnilingus, I confess I've never sexed one who didn't. I once knew a woman who disapproved of it because it wasn't Biblical, but thank God she was never a lover of mine. I've had partners who asked me to do it, or who lit up in joy when I started, as though it were a rare gift. Can it be that most men won't pleasure their loves this way? 

She lit up. She responded no matter what I did. She pushed herself toward me with her hips and tried to pull my head to her. I sucked her lips into my mouth and nibbled on each of them. I got some of her corn silk in my mouth. Her clitoris was a tiny, pink nub that I licked very softly, using just the tip of my tongue, as lightly as I could, tasting her. She tried to get more sensation but I just kept touching her lightly, making her crazy. 

I moved down and tasted inside her. Of course she wasn't sweet, like people say; yes her vagina was like a soft fruit of some kind, but tangy and musky. I pulled back and breathed on her sex, then went back to her clitoris, tonguing just at her scant hood. How high could I get her without her coming? She grunted at every lick. 

Once she was very high I moved away from her, helped her kneel up on the bed, and put my erection to her mouth. What would she do?

She opened her mouth and licked the underside of the head and made a little face.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a little bit fishy tasting."

I laughed. "Well, I didn't know this was going to happen. I'll wash it now. It won't take a second."

"I like fish." 

I laughed again. "Well, then lick it, and use your perfect mouth to pleasure me." 

But she really didn't know how to do that. She had been truthful that she wasn't very experienced, at least with men, so I had to help her. It was almost enough just to feel her mouth and to know she liked doing it. I nearly came right then, and pulled out and throttled my penis to stop myself, just in time. 

She didn't know what I was doing and thought she was disappointing me. Dear God, no. I kissed her and told her she was wonderful. We knelt in front of each other for a moment and kissed each other's faces and I strummed my fingers up and down over her breast and she fondled my prick.

Then I pushed her onto her back again and licked and sucked her more strongly. I ran my whole tongue in long, smooth strokes over her sex. When she began to come she was moving her hips up and down, and twisting to the side. I crawled up between her legs. I found her opening, and I pushed all the way in while she came. I always savor that first stroke, when her flower isn't yet fully opened and my penis is pushing her walls outward. I fucked her until, in just a minute or two, I came, and I heard myself making crying sounds and I collapsed on her completely. She continued to come the whole time.

*****

We were snuggling and drowsing. Even though we were leaking madly she wouldn't let us put our underwear back on, so we were damp and sticky. Touching her afterwards was affectionate and quiet, except when I found a tickle spot. She was fascinated with my spent penis. She kept stroking it and commenting on how soft it was. I asked her not to go on so much about that.

"I want to see you tonight."

"Oh, my big, strong man, I want that too. But I'm not sure that we can. There are other people to think of."

Big strong man? I didn't know if we had any future, but for the moment I was content to be called her anything. She liked me, liked being with me afterwards. I turned to her. 

"I didn't mean for sex. At least not necessarily. I'm at an age when it might even be difficult." I had almost said 'hard.' It was twitching, though. She should quit stroking it. 

"I just want to see you in that moonlight again. And your roommate is welcome. I think I'd like to see her there, too."

"Oh? You want to watch us kiss, so you can get turned on again?"

"No, I thought she and I could kiss, to get *you* turned on again."

"Well what about your wife?"

I used a Bogart voice: "Shweetheart, I'm all you get."

We snuggled some more.

End.



Intimacy



This is a scenario proposed by my lover, who is deeply into anal sex and totally unafraid of pushing its boundaries. It contains an act that few find erotic although her intention was to make it so, and she succeeded. Be forewarned; read something else if bathroom intimacy offends you.

*

I had just finished with my shower when I heard the bathroom door open and quickly close. Pulling back the curtain, I was treated to the sight of my lover nude, except for a turquoise garter belt and dark nylon stockings. Clearly, a treat was in store as she knows how much I love her in that outfit.

She was standing at the vanity in the warm, richly appointed bathroom. The carpet, warm wood and skylight make it a great place for sex, and it was one of our favorites. 

As I toweled off, she turned her back to me, knowingly displaying her ample, creamy ass -- my favorite part of her beautiful anatomy. She shared my sentiment, and that made for exceptionally erotic sex of the most intimate kind.

Our eyes met in the mirror and she smiled slyly, deftly fixing her thick, chestnut hair into a pony tail. 

"I have something for you," she said.

"Oh?" I asked, reaching for a towel. The sight of her ass made my penis swell.

"Come here," she said, winking and gesturing at the big laundry hamper next to the toilet. Closing the wooden lid, she added, "Sit."

I did as I was told, my cock stiffening at the sight of this luscious, wide-hipped woman in her garter belt. Her muscular thighs, slight belly and triangle of reddish pubic hair only added to her allure. The pink, pebbled nipples on her full, round breasts were erect. She was already excited and I soon knew why.

She lifted the lid of the large white toilet and sat down, straddling the bowl. My heart began to race. She'd proposed this fantasy several times, curious to see what far out things would turn us both on, and while I know she has a very kinky exhibitionist streak, I didn't think she'd ever go through with it. We'd always been extremely open and comfortable, even when it came to using the toilet in front of each other, but this was to be a whole new level of sharing. 

Leaning back against the toilet tank, she spread her legs wide, revealing her swollen pussy, the delicate pink lips slightly open and moist, and her sexy dark anus.

"Jerk off while you watch, babe," she said as I sat transfixed as she lightly fingered her pussy and asshole. "I think you're going to like this..."

I began stroking my erection, which was already aching. She watched me with great lust and after a few minutes, her anus began to flex and bulge. Slowly it opened and dark brown emerged.

"Like it, babe?" she asked, her voice husky. "Does it turn you on?" 

"Oh, yeah," I said, stroking harder and faster. The scent that filled the air was rich, but not unpleasant. It, and the sight of her rubbing her pussy with her middle finger as she went, left me feeling indescribably horny.

Cupping her cunt, she tossed her head back in obvious pleasure. She was in the throes of orgasm now, her chest pink, her nipples hard as her stockinged legs quivered. I marveled at her beauty and once her release passed, she stood up and turned around, cocking her nude ass just so.

"Wipe me," she said, over her shoulder as she bent to thrust her luscious rear in my direction. "Or lick me if you dare."

I grabbed some toilet tissue and she moaned as I ran the wad between her cheeks. It came up almost totally clean. I gently and lovingly repeated the act with another wad, and then another, taking care to let it linger on and massage her anus.

"Ohhh fuck yeah," she sighed. "That feels so good..."

I was gone in a wave of lust.

Dropping to my knees, I palmed her bare ass cheeks and parted them. 

"Oh, yeah, babe. Lick my asshole," she said, her voice slightly breathless and trembling with anticipation. "Taste it. Stick your tongue in. Slowly..."

The scent between her cheeks was an intoxicating musk. She'd worked out and hadn't bathed yet that day. Being in that state always made her horny and eager to have me lick and taste her ass. This was the ultimate.

Trembling in my arousal, I ran my tongue over her pucker. The bitterness was strong but overwhelmingly erotic. "Mmmmmmmm," she purred.

"So good," I sighed, eagerly licking everywhere in the valley of her ass, my tongue seeking her electrifying flavor. She was beyond delicious.

Pushing her nude rear into my face, she moaned as my tongue entered her asshole and I began slowly moving it in and out, getting deeper each time. Within seconds, she came again. Crying out, shaking. Her anus spasmed and clenched my tongue. I would have come, too, if only she'd touched my aching penis.

Sucking and kissing her asshole, I waited until her ecstasy subsided. Then I stood up.

"Put your dick in my ass..."

"Gladly," I said, kissing her neck and gently running my hands over her hips.

Taking the shaft of my erection in one hand, I pressed the purpling head between her cheeks. She reached back with her left hand and parted her buttocks.

"Oh, fuck yeah," she sighed.

With a little pressure, the head of my stiff penis slid into her anus, which was already slick with my saliva. I entered her gently, pulled out a bit, then pressed deeper. With each slow, smooth stroke, my erection went further. She was beside herself with pleasure. So was I.

Few things turn me on like the sight of my cock in her sweet asshole. I could barely watch, as I was on the verge of orgasm and fighting to prolong this moment. Gazing up through the skylight, I tried to focus on the drifting clouds in the bright blue summer sky, but her moans and sexy whimpers only brought me back.

My cock was fully inside her tight, hot anus and I was savoring the feeling of her plump ass against my pelvis when she came yet again. I stopped moving and let her just absorb the full sensation of my hard, bulging erection deep in her rectum. 

Sensing her orgasm fading, I started to ease out again. I could feel my own release on the way. 

"Gonna come," I groaned, and she suddenly pulled away. 

My penis slid from her ass. To my surprise, she pushed me back a bit with one hand and turned around. Sitting on the still open toilet, she hungrily took my erection in her mouth. The sensation of warm softness was almost shocking.

Sucking, then wetly licking the head while rapidly stroking my cock, she drove me right into the most intense orgasm I've ever had. 

The first watery spurt of my hot, white semen coated her tongue. The next ran down her chin, leaving a thick, pearly glob on her bottom lip. Eagerly, she took the head in her mouth, sucking the remainder of my juice as I came and came and came and came. Her mouth was full of my cream and it coated the shaft of my cock as she moved her head back and forth, making little whimpers of lust and occasionally swallowing.

My brave and generous lover spent the next few minutes worshipping my spent, slowly softening penis with her tongue, licking it clean. I stroked her hair while I watched. Finally, she planted a kiss on the head, looked up, and smiled. Our eyes met. There was no need for words. It had been better than we'd even imagined.



Intimacy



'I heard if you drink diet cola after you eat a Mentos your stomach would explode.'

'Not something we want to hear at breakfast, Alissa,' mom said nonchalantly.

'You're an idiot,' I said. 'Mythbusters busted that ages ago.'

'Don't call me an idiot.'

'Jake, don't call your sister an idiot,' dad said, slightly muffled from the few bits of muffin that didn't go down in the first swallow.

'If she wants to say stupid things...' 

He glanced over at me this time but didn't say anything more. There was no real anger, as though he didn't really care what I said, but I knew what he meant. Just don't piss her off.

'What classes have you got today, hon?' mom asked me.

'Um... journalism and a few psych ones.'

'And are you going to any of those or are you gonna stay home like a loser and watch sports all day?' Alissa said.

'It looks like it's gonna be sunny today... are you gonna spend all day at the beach or will you actually go to school? Maybe a token appearance in the morning?'

Neither mom nor dad said anything, but we were done. That seemed to be the strategy these days: just let us fizzle out rather than interject or attempt to break us up. They knew that one wrong word and either Alissa or I would be down their throats accusing them of taking a side. Or they could play it perfectly and it would still develop into a shouting match between us trying to get our point into whichever of them was brave enough to speak in the first place. Even I found it frustrating.

Alissa was the first to get up. I watched her leave with the usual half-loathing stare I would give her after any argument, to which she reciprocated until she was into the hallway. I guess she was right, though. The chances of me being bothered to get to class this morning were low at best, while this afternoon's classes enjoying my attendance was highly dependent on whether mom was still home. I think my "the professor is overseas so we watch the lectures online" excuse was probably over-used by now, so I would be forced to go if she was still around.

'Jane was telling me the other day,' mom said, pausing to swallow, 'that she might have a job for you if-'

But I'd stopped listening. I could hear footsteps through the floor right above us. My room.

'Bitch!' I muttered only half to myself; standing up so hard the chair fell over and made an unhealthy crack on the hard-wood floor.

'I keep hoping they'll somehow go back to the way they were when they were young,' I heard mom say through a sigh as I left.

'Are you kidding?' Dad said. 'Remember when he was six and he brained her with his whiffle bat for saying his swing didn't look anything like the guys on TV?'

I do. She was a bit meaner about it in my recollection.

*

Friday nights were family nights. It was possibly our parents' last effort to keep some cohesion in the family, either because Alissa and I were as worse as we had ever been toward each other or because we were getting a little too independent for their liking. Or at least she was. I was more than happy to still live at home and commute to college.

It wasn't so bad, really. We got a movie the majority agreed upon and we watched it together, and no parties or going out afterwards. Alissa hadn't enjoyed getting that news at the inaugural night about two months ago. Losing two hours of time in the party night of the week was bad, although still manageable. Losing the whole night was unacceptable because, after all, she had her vapid reputation to protect.

This Friday night it was my turn to begrudgingly sit in the living room. I was out-voted on the choice of movie, but that alone wasn't killer. My parents' refusal to put cable in my room meant the main TV was the only one to watch the basketball game on, and their accompanying refusal to get Tivo meant I missed it altogether. 

Even worse still were the brutal conditions we were sitting in. Due to our dog's annoying habit of using the living room as an extension of the backyard, the carpet was completely stained with piss, which my mother decided to clean today. The cleaning chemicals still hung thick enough in the air to almost taste, helped by the fact the room was also still uncomfortably humid from the amateur effort at steam cleaning afterwards. It was like an ammonia-soaked sauna being fuelled further by the warming spring air. It had given me a headache even before the painful opening sequence of 'Date Movie' was over.

Ironically, Alissa was cheerful. I don't exactly pay attention to her life, but I have to assume something went well that day because she hadn't yet made one badly veiled sarcastic comment like: 'this is sure to be a good use of time'.

At one point in the movie dad had yelled at her to stop shifting herself around every two minutes: just another in her wide repertoire of annoying habits. Surprisingly there was no snappy remark, she got up off the couch and parked herself on the floor, right in between me and the TV. She lay down straight, so that her head was cushioned under her arms up near the TV and her feet down near me. Her moving from the couch had broken what little concentration I'd had in the movie. I watched her move down there but my eyes didn't return to the TV, instead staying on her in a blank, unfocused stare. 

She'd been smarter than me in choosing what to wear that night. Instead of the comfortable sweats I hadn't quite let go of for the year yet now that summer was close, she wore a tight fitting green tee-shirt that still had a damp V-mark from where her dirty-blonde hair had been allowed to sit after her shower. Below that was a small blue cotton mini-skirt that had been a summer favorite of hers around the house for years now. Ever since she'd grown the ass to pull it off. It had ridden up a little higher from her continued fidgeting to find a comfortable position, enough to see a hint of something red -wait- red panties?

My eyes snapped back into focus. My eyebrows furrowed when I confirmed I'd seen what I thought I had, and I went to look away. But it wasn't soon enough.

The unit the TV was sitting on had two cabinet doors with mirrors taking up the entire space on the front of them. The left hand door was still a little open from when dad had gotten to the DVD player, ajar enough so that I could see myself in its mirror and so could Alissa. And she was looking straight at me.

My eyes locked onto hers for a moment and I couldn't look away. I expected her to look disgusted and to turn around and either yell at me or scream at dad that I was perving on her. But she didn't. Her blue eyes were slightly squinted and her mouth pursed, like she was only curious as to what I was looking at. It finally sunk in that she'd probably caught me looking up her skirt, as innocent as it was, and I guiltily shot my eyes up to the TV, to which she shook her head and sighed. I shifted uncomfortably on the leather couch, causing it to creak loudly - earning me an angry shooting look from dad – and I cleared my throat.

'I need to go to the bathroom,' I announced.

'I bet you do,' Alissa said with a smile. 

I pondered for the rest of the night whether that grin was to mock me or from actual amusement. I assumed the former.

*

To say that I was shocked Alissa didn't either rip me a new asshole or mock the hell out of me doesn't really say how surprised I was. She didn't change her demeanor, that is to say we still had pointless arguments and baited each other for the smallest things, but my half-glimpse of her panty-covered pussy never once came up. I was confused, because usually any ammunition she gets she will throw at me like a trigger happy criminal, mostly because she has never been quick enough to make witty comebacks, instead choosing to embarrass and belittle very crudely.

It made me extremely careful. Whenever I talked to her I had to restrain myself from pushing her too far, because I couldn't be sure she wasn't holding it back for an almighty rip at me to get out of something stupid or embarrassing she had done herself. 

At breakfast a few mornings later mom had made pancakes. A whole stack of them, coated in maple syrup and smelling a special kind of delicious I haven't ever come across in those made by anyone else. Alissa was showing her lack of sleep from a 'study session' the night before: huge bruise-like bags under her eyes and a distinct lack of co-ordination. When the inevitable happened - her spilling an entire pancake she had been too lazy to cut right down her front along with one huge glob of syrup - I said nothing. The words had rushed to my mouth instantly, like a Pavlovian response, and it was almost painful not to shoot them like tiny daggers at her. Good one, dumb ass. She didn't take her eyes off me as she cleaned up, expecting the cheap shot to come just as much as I wanted to give it.

Night-time that same day we were home alone. Our parents were at dinner, Tuesday nights being another of their weekly themed nights, this one date night. So, obviously, we weren't involved. I watched the closing graphic of Sportscenter and sighed. I was out of excuses to procrastinate on my psych assignment any longer. I got up off the couch very slowly, again causing the leather to creak loudly and my knee joints to crack almost painfully. Not the healthiest sign in barely 20 year old legs.

I took my time going up the stairs as well. Every step of my bare foot on the padded carpet made a thump that reverberated around the enclosed staircase and made the wood underneath creak every so often. At the top of the stairs I had to turn and walk by the banister, my room being the only one that side of the stairs, and the bathroom being along that wall.

I could hear the splash of running water stop in the bathroom, with the accompanying groan from the pipes in the wall at the loss in water pressure. Alissa's nightly shower had obviously just finished. I have no idea why, but at that moment I had an overpowering urge to look in at her. I'd never once thought about her sexually. Even when her tits and ass had developed I saw them as just factual parts of her body rather than desiring female attractions. At that moment it still wasn't about some perverted desire to see her naked, just a slight and innocent curiosity as to what her naked body really looked like.

The keyhole in the door wasn't the best viewing option. It was difficult to line her up properly, and even when I managed to do so I only saw parts of her before she moved again and I had to re- adjust. She did look nice. Like I said, I'd never thought of her as hot, or even made the choice as to whether she was or not, but at that point I would have to begrudgingly admit that she was. There was still light coming in from the north-facing window, which, as warm and golden as it was that afternoon, gave a silhouette effect that meant I still couldn't see her front too well. She was faced towards me, her head turned as she watched herself in the full-length mirror while slowly rubbing her hair with the beige towel in her right hand. Every time she turned in a new direction the light would catch in the droplets of water still on her front and bounce around artistically. It would make a good photo.

Her front now in partial light I could better make out her features. Her stomach was flat and tanned, dotted with a few larger freckles that I shared with her as a family trait. Her tits were just as evenly tanned - does she go topless at the beach every day?- the 18 year old beauties sitting perfectly on her chest, jiggling hypnotically as she dried her hair. From my very limited knowledge they looked like a B-cup, but the partially obscured angle of the key-hole and the distance made me unsure. I would need to check that later. 

She stopped drying and put the towel down. Her hands on her hips and weight shifted to her right side gave her curves added definition. Shit, they never looked like that before. She had a half smirk as she looked at her self. Admiring the work, I guess, because she certainly didn't waste the money our parents spent on her gym membership.

She moved to the vanity, out of my view, so I shifted a little on the plush carpet to try and re-focus on her. The keyhole angle wouldn't allow me to follow, so I stopped trying and got up. The floor creaked under me as I moved away, which, seeing as it did that all the time, I was only half aware of and didn't give it a conscious thought.

*

'Did you like what you saw?' Alissa said.

I looked up from my desk to her standing in my doorway, one hand leaning on the frame. Her tone was hard to pick. She sounded casual, as if calmly asking what time to expect the parents back, and looked it as she was still drying her hair absent-mindedly with the towel. She had the same green shirt on from the other night, which, along with thin, gray sweatpants, accentuated her curves and tits to a point that made them blindingly obvious and hard not to look at.

'Yeah... I'm up here,' she said through a smirk.

I hadn't really processed her question. What did I see? Oh. How did she know?

'I know you were spying on me,' she said, now crossing her arms but remaining strangely casual.

'I was just... passing by. I have to to get in here, remember?'

That sounded so bad. I pride myself on being quick on my feet and knowing the right thing to say back at her in an argument, but even I thought that sounded weak.

'Are you really gonna try that excuse? I could see your shadow under the door, and it really didn't look like you were just passing. Looked a lot more like you were spying. You weren't real quiet about it, either.'

I blanked. I couldn't think of a plausible excuse, and the longer I sat there, my face betraying how horrified I was at being caught, the guiltier I looked. I was at the linen closet? No, she'd ask me why. Shit! I had nothing.

Just like the up-skirt incident, Alissa didn't seem to be getting mad. She was smiling, almost the same kind of smile she had always flashed when I did something stupid, but slightly different. More playful?

'I'm sorry, OK? I was only there for a second and I didn't even see anything.'

The smile grew wider. No doubt she was enjoying the reversal of roles to the way these confronting situations had normally gone.

'I think you saw a whole lot. It's really kinda unfair.'

Of course. Here came the blackmail. I wondered if it would be money, or maybe some of her chores. Whatever it was, I was likely to just blurt out an 'OK, fine' and shoo her away to avoid any further embarrassment.

'What do you want?' I asked with a sigh, leaning back in my computer chair.

'You saw me. I wanna see you.'

'OK, f-' I started. 'Wait... what?'

Her smile curved a little. She knew that I knew exactly what I meant.

'What are you, some kind of per-'

No, that line would end in disaster.

'It's fine,' she said. 'Dad'll probably get a laugh out of it, you think?'

I swallowed loudly and looked to the floor. I stole a quick glance at her - still that ambiguous smile - and stood up. I felt naked before I'd even started to undress, so awkward and clumsy. I fiddled on my belt for a second, my now-sweating hands struggling to get a grip on the cool metal buckle. My eyes stayed fixed on the carpet as I let the jeans drop to the floor and step out of them. I almost fell over when my right foot got caught in the folds. She scoffed.

My probably-too-hairy legs were naked from my boxers to my plain white socks now, but I don't know how she felt about them because I still couldn't look at her. I tried to smoothly take off my white shirt but it got caught coming over my head. I ripped it over in frustration, messing up my brown hair and forcing it inside-out. She scoffed again, and I still couldn't tell if she was mocking me or not.

My chest was bare now. All those times I looked in the mirror and told myself 'I better start working out or else the first time I have sex is going to be embarrassing' caught up to me. I could have at least cut the embarrassing hair around my nipples.

When my eyes came back into focus after the shirt was finally out from in front of them I saw Alissa's face. She was looking at my chest, and she was, surprisingly, not trying to contain any laughter. She pursed her lips and nodded softly. Approval? Enjoyment? I guess I mustn't have been so unfit after all.

I shrugged my shoulders as if to say well, what now?

'I don't think I was wearing underwear when I got outta the shower...'

I pleaded with her using only my expression. She nodded in the direction of the floor.

I should have sat down to take my socks off. I overbalanced on the first one and shot my hand out to my side for support, finding only a cup of water on the desk. It tipped violently, spewing all over my books and only narrowly missing my laptop. This time she did have to hold back a giggle, but this time I could see her face and I could see it wouldn't have been mocking. Was she legitimately enjoying this?

I took the other sock off using the desk as a brace and moved on to my boxers. I paused with my hands on them, feeling the soft yet course cotton on my fingers. Alissa had her arms folded and was leaning fully on the doorframe now. She cocked her head to one side, waiting.

I looked down as I started to slide the boxer shorts down my legs. I did not want to see her face for this. I stepped out of them, thankfully without incident, and stood still, keeping my eyes fixed on the carpet as though I was genuinely interested in the pattern. She didn't say anything.

I just stood there. My shoulders were slouched forward and my fingers drumming nervously on my thigh. After ten seconds I had to look at her, she was forcing me to make the next move. She was looking straight into my eyes, a contented smile stretched across her lips.

'OK, you've seen me,' I said hoarsely. 

'Yeah, but showing is different from spying.'

It's worse, I wanted to say.

'You need to do something else.'

'Come on,' I said weakly. I just wanted it to be over.

She looked out the window. The sun was behind the trees on the horizon now, but there was still plenty of golden afternoon light outside.

'Down to the end of the street and back up the other side.' There's no way she said that, I thought. There would be people outside still. I could hear a lawnmower going from a few houses down.

She raised her eyebrows, as if expecting a challenge. I didn't make one. It wouldn't do any good. I walked briskly past her without a word and down the stairs. She watched me from my doorway, keeping that annoying contented grin on her face the entire time.

I opened the front door very slowly, just a little bit, and stuck my head out to scope out my surroundings. Three girls my age had just turned the corner into our street, jogging happily, and lawnmower-guy was three houses down in the same direction. The other way was about three times as long, with plenty more people in their front yards. The short direction it would have to be.

I shouldered the door open hard, cupping my junk in my hands and bolting for all I was worth down the street. My feet started to sting on the hard concrete only a few steps away from our yard, and the spring air wasn't quite warm enough that night to be comfortable in naked. My hairs were sticking up and I had gooseflesh over my entire body. I couldn't be sure where Alissa was watching this, but I didn't dare turn around to check.

Lawnmower-guy shook his head in disapproval as I sprinted past.

'Sorry,' I mumbled to him.

The girls noticed me almost instantly, slowing down to laugh and point. Great.

I reached the end of the street and quickly scanned for cars before crossing the even-more- painful-on-my-feet road. The girls had stopped completely and were staring straight at me. I ran past them with my eyes firmly pointed down, taking jeers and wolf whistles as I did.




Intimacy



I cut a diagonal path across the road back to my house and noticed the front door was closed. She better not have, I thought. I reached it and pulled frantically at the knob, but it was locked. I could hear the girls laughing even harder at me now, but I ignored them and sprinted around the side of the house. Why did we not have a fence?

The two other doors were locked as well. The laundry door always was, and Alissa was standing at the sliding glass door at the back, proudly.

'Let me in, this isn't funny!' I screamed at her.

She was laughing now as well.

'It looks pretty funny to me!'

I danced around impatiently, but she wasn't opening any doors for me any time soon. Stepping back, I noticed our parents' bedroom window was open. Jackpot. She followed my eyes and must have guessed from my smile what I could see because she turned and bolted for the stairs while I hurriedly climbed the lattice to the side of the sliding door. Great big vines were growing intertwined through the lattice holes, limiting my foot and hand holds and whipping me painfully if I moved in the wrong direction.

I reached the top just as Alissa bounded into the room. She rushed for the window to pull it down, but it was stuck. I scrambled the last few feet across the overhanging roof just as she managed to un-stick it and rip it down. But I was there to stop her. Being far stronger, she couldn't pull it down any further, but I couldn't climb in the window easily with her standing in the way. So I barreled through and knocked her to the ground, landing awkwardly on top of her on the floor. I had her pinned, like so many times before, and I relished the turning back of power. She didn't try to struggle, she just kept laughing.

'You're an asshole,' I said, trying myself not to laugh.

I didn't take any notice how I was positioned on her, but maybe I should have. Instead of hovering over her on my hands and knees like usual in this body-lock position, I was lying right on top of her. Her tits were mashed into my chest, and I could subconsciously feel her smooth figure through her clothes onto my naked skin. Her tightly covered thighs felt delicious on my legs, and her faint but powerful perfume reminded me of so many girls I had crushes on in high school. Without knowing, I had become semi-hard.

Alissa did notice. When I finally adjusted myself into the normal hovering position, her eyes traced right down to my crotch, and mine followed. My heart sank again and I let go of her arms, rushing up and out of the room. Her face, though, was burned into my eyes. It wasn't disgust, and it wasn't shock. Almost like a mild surprise, decorated with that half smile I was beginning to really dislike.

*

I locked myself in my room the rest of the night and over the next few days avoided seeing or talking to Alissa. She loved the situation, and any time I bumped into her in the kitchen or hallway she grinned her mischievous smile at me. I was really starting to hate that smile. 

She had even started to leave notes. Getting home from the gym that I had finally been motivated enough to go to, I found a little folded piece of unicorn stationery sitting on top of my books.

Does that happen when you spy on me as well?

I looked around, somehow expecting her to be there. But this was very strange. I'd stopped expecting a ruthless attack on how much of a pervert I am, but this could almost constitute flirting. It had been a couple of days since the incident as well, so she must have had to muster the courage to do this. Or she only just thought it would be another good way to mess with my head. Either way, since I severely lacked the courage to reply, I put it in my drawer and forgot about it.

The next morning she was more aggressive about things. I was eating my toast while reading the sports section, quite peacefully, when another piece of unicorn stationery was shoved into my view right on the article I was reading. I looked at her quickly but she had gone back to playing around with her cell phone. So I unfolded the paper, giving a quick glance around to make sure dad was still glued to the morning news and mom was still upstairs.

It wasn't all that unimpressive. But I've seen bigger.

My mind caught on the words for a second. So she thought it was alright? What the hell was she doing, anyway? All along I didn't want to think she was flirting, but I couldn't dismiss it now. Years of taunting had taught me I also shouldn't discount the fact that she could just be messing with me for a bit of fun.

I didn't know how to react to the note itself. If it was indeed flirtatious, I'd never been at all good at reciprocating that to other girls. I just didn't really know what to do. The fact that it was my sister made it especially difficult because, firstly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be doing that. In the back of my mind I felt a little bit of excitement at the situation, but the front of my mind was screaming at how disgusting incest is. And secondly, would I have to flirt with my sister differently than I would with other girls? Almost definitely.

Of course the fact that she has always been a mean and horrible person to me all these years hadn't escaped my mind. If she was indeed staying true to her character and this was just a cruel mind game, I couldn't call her on it and risk her throwing those two incidents back at my face. Sitting there with my mouth open was probably the worst thing to do. After a few seconds Alissa looked up from her cell phone and shot me a naughty smirk. Probably not messing with me, then. Still, I stood up and walked as fast as I could without seeming strange out of there and up to my room. I didn't dare look at her while doing so.

I closed the door and leaned on it for a second, allowing my mind to slow down and think properly. My rational mind told me to think up a way to smooth the situation out and return things back to normal. I couldn't cope with the mind games, cruel or not. Pissing her off bad enough to force her to abuse me with the incidents seemed like the only way to break it all down, but there was a big risk of having either mom or dad find out. Tuesday night would be best, just after the parents had left so I could allow Alissa enough time to cool down after our argument so that she wasn't running to them as soon as they walked back in the door. Tuesday it would have to be.

But her naked body kept interrupting my train of thought. The swaying of her tits as she dried her hair still mesmerized me just thinking about it, and my fingertips started to sweat at the thought of running them over her soft, bronze skin, tracing patterns in her freckles.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I really needed to get laid. Having to think about your sister's body is probably as good a sign as any that your cock is long overdue for some pussy. But since I lacked a girlfriend, my laptop had to be my date.

I locked the door and moved over to the desk. A tent had well and truly been pitched in my boxers, and I didn't want to risk not jacking it away and keep drifting back to thinking about Alissa's body all day. It wouldn't be good for my sanity. I opened the laptop lid with a smile, thinking about some of the lesbian porno I downloaded the other day and still hadn't had the chance to-

'Holy shit!' I said aloud before I realized what I was doing.

So used to seeing the stylized Mustang picture, I wasn't prepared for Alissa's image to come up, much less a naked one. It was obviously one she had taken herself, in that Myspace style where you hold the camera up with one hand and it catches only really your face and a bit of your chest. She was a master at it, judging by the frequency those types popped up on her own Myspace.

I looked guiltily over at the door, completely forgetting I'd locked it ten seconds before, and back to the screen. Her lips were smacked together in a kiss and her eyes closed. Her free hand cupped her opposite tit, partially obscuring the other, but making the one she held even perkier than it would normally sit. She was sitting at her desk, the only light being her lamp, the effect casting a shadow on the far side of her body, but it didn't hide anything.

I didn't understand when she'd had time to do it. I was on my laptop until late the night before and had gone to bed straight after using it. And I know I woke up before her because I heard her snoring as I walked past for breakfast. The middle of the night - while I slept just a few feet away - was the only possibility. I felt violated, but really excited at the same time. My sister was uploading porn - of herself! - onto my computer.

I had been looking at it too long, I figured. I couldn't keep it and still realistically plan on shutting her down and stopping everything, could I? Right then all I wanted to do was relieve myself, so I bypassed the incredibly erotic picture of my own sister and started the many clicks it took to get to my porn folder. I was proud of how well I managed to hide it, as sad as being proud of something like that is. Deep inside the hidden system folders with a thousand computer-sounding-gibberish folders and files to get lost in if anyone dared to go looking for my stash.

Obviously Alissa had, because upon reaching the folder I found it empty. Over 12 gigabytes of pornography, years worth of surfing, gone, replaced by a single .txt file. It was named Alissa.

Really not stuff you should be looking at, big brother.

She hadn't once called me that in our entire lives. Was the excitement of the situation getting to her? Did incest somehow turn her on?

I leaned back and cupped the back of my head in my hands. This was just another little mind game to go insane over for the next few days. My boner still remained, however, and without some porno to help me along, or the desire to get more this early in the morning, I was left with only one option.

I clicked back to the desktop and sighed. Alissa's tits stared back at me. If I did this, I would be crossing a line I might not be able to un-cross. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about my now-painful boner and making it go away. I reached for the lotion and tissues, gave one last sigh, and got to work.

It took me about 30 seconds. Imagery wasn't hard, and mental stimulation was plentiful on top of the visual. When I started spewing cum into the tissues it was one of the rare times I'd had to stifle a moan in all the years of pleasuring myself. In fact, the orgasm rated up there with the best of them, even the time I'd gone a month in a resolution to get laid and not jerk off. The feeling consumed my entire body, like a wash of pleasure that tingled along all my nerve endings at once.

But just as soon as it subsided, a new wash, this time of guilt, came over me. I looked at Alissa's picture once more, quivering and softening cock still in my right hand, and decided. No more. I deleted the picture, emptied the recycle bin, and circled the next Tuesday in bright red Sharpie on my calendar.

*

Tuesday came, without any more developments from Alissa. She was a busy girl, I had finally discovered after only just starting to take notice. She was gone most nights of the week doing something, sometimes back for dinner, but rarely. I became quite familiar with her schedule, not out of any desire to see her or spy on her or anything: so that I could avoid her. I had enough trouble not thinking about her running her hands seductively down her naked front. I caught myself going hard in too many embarrassing places.

I didn't leave my room when I heard Alissa arrive home from school. I stayed in there until I heard my parents' car start up and drive off. But I still didn't really know what to say to Alissa, whether I could even piss her off enough or at all.

I was lying on my bed throwing a tennis ball up and down when I heard the pipes in the wall groan and come to life. Water rushed through them noisily, and I could make out the splashing sound of water on tile through the wall. She was in the shower.

My heart started beating faster. I had to seriously fight the temptation to rush to the key-hole and perv on her. After deleting her naked picture from my computer I had been walking around with an urge to see it again, cursing my choice to delete it. I couldn't help it. I had even checked her camera to see if it was still on the memory card. It wasn't.

My self-discipline crumbled. Being as quiet, but as quick, as I could I went to the bathroom door and knelt in position. There she was. The shower cubicle was in the perfect viewing position from the key-hole, with clear glass to boot. She was slightly obscured from the steam fogging up the glass, but not enough to hide any of her best features.

I think she looked better wet. Her skin looked even softer when it was glistening with moisture, and I loved the way the streams of water clung to her curves as it rushed down her body and into the drain. Her hair being wet meant it was out of her face, displaying the perfect proportions even prouder than ever.

My hand went for my pants. I wasn't going to miss the opportunity, and my inhibitions over feeling this way for my sister had a funny way of disappearing in the heat of the moment. But, as if on cue, Alissa reached for the shower head an unhooked it from its clasp. Bringing the head down her body, the flexible pipe wrapped around her figure the way I so wanted to do with my hands. She finally laid the head in her crotch, and her face exploded with pleasure. Her head shot back, mouth opened wide, and she let out a loud moan.

She knew I was watching. There's no way she would be that loud in such a discrete act of masturbation, I thought, knowing from experience. I might have cared if I wasn't so close to cumming. But if she knew, there wasn't much I could do now.

Her free hand went up to cup a tit, almost like in the picture. She caressed it slowly, making her small areole a point of emphasis when she tweaked the nipple. Her moans kept getting louder until her hand shot from her tit and slapped the wall. I guess she was cumming.

It pushed me over the edge, too. I could feel myself reaching that point of no return where there was nothing I could do to stop from cumming. Not wanting to be caught with cum over myself or my clothes, I rushed back into my room and clutched at a tissue. I didn't care that the floor creaked deafeningly as I moved. 

*

I expected her to come in after her shower and amp up the dare from last time. Maybe she might even come to initiate something? But she didn't. I was sort of thankful for that, because I felt a great deal guiltier after that than the first time I jerked off to her.

She kept up the routine of not specifically mentioning anything to my face; in fact she had even returned to baiting me. It wasn't as malicious as it had always been; more playful, if only slightly. I began to be more comfortable around her, but I was now stern in the knowledge that I didn't want to have anything to do with her sexually. Until the next incident.

It was the Friday night after the most recent shower incident. All four of us were at the video store choosing a movie to rent.

'Just someone choose one,' dad said impatiently from a corner. He rarely factored into the choosing, instead wanting to just veto any choice of ours until one he liked came along.

'How about this one?' Alissa said.

She was teasing me. Her tee-shirt was at least a size too small, with a graphic on the front that only attracted the eye to the money region before you noticed how luscious her tits are. Her skirt was also a little skimpy for that night. The weather was clinging to cold before the inevitable warm shift, and that night was chillier than normal.

'What is it?' mom said without looking up from the one she was inspecting.

'Um... it's called Tomcats.'

I looked up sharply. I knew what it was, and I was sure mom and dad didn't.

'It's not a cartoon is it?' dad asked suspiciously.

'No. I've heard about it and apparently it's not bad.'

She held up the cover, but instead of the image of a girl's lower half in boxer shorts that would have instantly betrayed it for the risqué movie it was, it was a generic cover some employee had written 'Tomcats' on in pen.

'That sounds alright I guess,' mom said.

Alissa flashed me a quick grin. She was up to something.

It wasn't long before our parents discovered that wasn't such a good choice. 

'I don't think I can watch this with my children,' mom declared only 10 minutes in, and went to the kitchen table to do crosswords.

Dad also fell asleep fairly quickly, leaving only Alissa and I to watch a movie I really wasn't comfortable watching with her. Her intentions were definitely made clear at the start by sitting next to me on the second couch instead of the many other seats. She never did that.

She was quiet most of the way through, though, and still. At one point well into the movie I found myself in the inevitable situation of going hard. It was bound to happen with this kind of movie, but I was focused on not making it obvious.

That failed pretty badly, because thinking about it made my cock go fully hard and produce a characteristic bump in my pants. I shifted my left leg up a bit to hide it in the folds of material, but Alissa had already noticed. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye.

Suddenly her hand snapped out and went straight for my crotch. I sat still, horrified, hoping mom didn't look through the gap between rooms and see us. Alissa obviously didn't care, because she grabbed my cock as best she could through the fabric and started lightly massaging it. She had experience.

'What are you doing?' I hissed quietly at her.

She just looked at me with a smirk and continued. I didn't stop her. I wanted to, but there's something about a guy's make-up that makes us incapable of stopping sexual advancement.

It was the first time I'd ever had another person's hand on my cock. That thought alone excited me, but Alissa's experienced hand did things that felt infinitely better than my own ever had. She knew just the right amount of pressure to apply to the head of the cock, even through two layers of clothes, and her circular motion felt good from the moment she started.

I could feel that point of no return coming again, and I couldn't believe how quick it had been brought on. I prayed to last just a little longer because this felt way too good, despite who was doing it. 

My hips bucked upwards and I let out a muffled sound of pleasure. Alissa's hand stopped and moved away, and I could already see a damp patch developing where it had been. She looked over at me with eyebrows furrowed as if to say 'already?' I was breathing heavily but didn't say anything. Mom was still within earshot, and I was thankful she hadn't reacted to the sound I'd already let out. I wasn't going to risk her walking in and seeing what was going on.

I stood up and left the room to clean up. When I got back Alissa was on the floor and didn't even turn and acknowledge me. The mind games continued.

*

Once again Alissa never commented on what had gone on, and I was way too embarrassed to initiate a conversation about it. It felt out of my control, like only she could make any moves, and I couldn't stand that.

It got down to intimacy, I'd decided. We had never had any of it between us. And that didn't just mean hugs and physical contact, but no emotional closeness or even just pleasantness. I think that's what made it so awkward to think about her like that, the fact that this was new and uncomfortable territory that my mind couldn't get over. The reservations I had about it on the basis that it was 'disgusting incest' were really only lies my subconscious had formed to shy away from the fact that I wasn't used to any kind of closeness to my sister. In the past I'd refused to even use her nickname, Lis, because it sounded too intimate and chummy.




Intimacy



The fact was, the more I mentally played the image of her in the shower, the more I genuinely wanted to have her. I started noticing things about her personality - the real one, not the facades we both showed to each other - when she was on the phone to her friends or talking to mom or dad thinking I wasn't around. Her laugh was infectious, making me smile stupidly to myself, and her playful nature was endearing and fun to be around. Or so I imagined. 

I caught myself, on more than one occasion, just watching her. Watching TV together one afternoon, I watched her twirl her hair in her fingers for more than ten minutes. Or while waiting for the kettle to boil, I leaned on the kitchen counter and watched her doing homework. She bit the top of her pen constantly, and the way her face screwed up when she got frustrated also made me smile stupidly. 

Over the days I could feel the reservations gradually ease, to the point where I didn't instinctively reach for the quickest insult when she spoke a word to me. I think she noticed it too, because her jabs at me got less and less enthusiastic, as if she needed me to play off. We were actually growing closer together.

By now I had become quite sure I didn't want to put a stop to any sexual games Alissa was playing with me, but I still needed to confront her about them. It was driving me insane wondering when she would do something, making me check for any of her notes almost by the hour and searching my laptop hoping for any new uploads. But she was staying silent.

Tuesday still seemed the best time to do it, since we could talk without any fear of being overheard. Knowing the time and place I would confront her certainly helped me to prepare what I would say, but it gave me some added nerves as well. In the hour before my parents were supposed to leave I paced my room constantly, turning music on countless times only to turn it off again seconds later because it distracted my nervous train of thought. When the car finally roared to life and chugged out the driveway and up the street my heart was beating hard enough to see it pulsing through a shirt.

I didn't want to procrastinate on this so I shoved the nerves to one side and left my room. The time of day meant Alissa had to be in her room doing homework. Not ideal, because her bedroom was as foreign to me as the girls' toilets. It was her domain.

She looked up, surprised, when I opened the door and entered. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'what?'

'Why have you been acting the way you have?' I asked, sounding more sure of myself than I felt.

'What do you mean?' she answered. She had to make it difficult.

'You know...' I started, returning to the nervous, unsure demeanor I had spent over an hour trying to suppress.

She smiled naughtily. 'Boredom, really.'

'... boredom?' I said, the words sounding unfamiliar.

She smacked her lips affirmatively and nodded.

'But... why?' I said eloquently.

'What do you mean "why"? I just wanted to mess with you, see what you'd do.'

'What did you think I'd do?'

'I thought you'd at least have the balls to try to get me to fuck you. Instead you ran away.'

Hearing her curse was not new. I had heard that word come from her mouth more times than I could count, but the different context made it sound completely different, and shocking.

'But... I'm your brother...'

'Like you didn't jerk off to me while I was in the shower the other day? Sex is sex.'

While pacing my room earlier I had thought of a hundred different things to say to her, none of which I had remembered to use. I didn't, however, give a single thought as to how she might respond, but I definitely didn't expect what I'd got so far.

'You don't think it's... gross... or anything?'

She shrugged nonchalantly. 'Done worse.'

I didn't even start to imagine what she could have done; all my brain power was being put towards a decent-sounding response.

'So... if...' was all I came up with.

'If you hadn't been too chicken shit to make a move?'

I didn't answer, not trusting myself.

She stood up from her chair, walked a few steps closer, and folded her arms. 'I dunno.' 

'So... what would you do if I... tried... now?' I managed, no confidence in my voice.

She looked back at me, that half smirk not wavering.

The impulse flashed into my consciousness. Go! But I was still unsure of myself. If she was still messing with me, and had no intention of doing anything with me, I would look like the biggest idiot if I made a move. Not to mention a pervert. Then the half smirk left her face, and I realized I had to act now or lose the opportunity.

I moved over to her, quicker than was probably needed, and grabbed her shoulders. I moved my face closer to hers, aiming for those red lips.

'Whoah, no kissing!' she cried, leaning her head back and slapping both of my arms away. I stood there frozen, now completely unsure what to do. Was that a rejection? Did she want to nor not?

She waited a few seconds, looking at me and shaking her head, before rolling her eyes. She grabbed the back of my head and led me by it towards her bed, laying down but keeping her legs hanging off the end and feet on the floor. She still had hold of my head, bringing me down with her and directing me towards her crotch. I looked up at her face, to which she raised her eyebrows as if to say 'what are you waiting for?'

I had always assumed the first time I was faced with this situation I would know exactly what to do, as if the countless porno movies had prepared me for what was to come. The truth was that I was horrified. My heart was still beating hard enough that I could feel it in my mouth, and I questioned everything I went to do. I lifted her loose-but-short skirt up over her abdomen carefully to reveal her white, lacy panties. They clung very tightly to her, forming a clear outline of what was underneath. I cautiously moved my right hand towards them, looking up at her as I did so. The last thing I wanted was to make a mistake. She was watching me intently.

I peeled her panties down. She shifted her weight a little and allowed me to pull them down to her knees and then fully off. And now I could see it. It wasn't surprising, for I had seen plenty, at least on film, but it was breathtaking to see nonetheless. She was completely shaven; the outline of where her pubic hair goes only just visible by the tips of the hairs starting to poke back through the skin. The folds of her pussy itself where neat and symmetrical, the pink flesh of her inner labia only just visible.

The first thing I really noticed was that she was quite wet. The skin around her pussy shone with moisture, the smell wafting up to my face only inches away. I had never sniffed my mom's or sister's dirty panties so I was completely unaware of the smell. I had only been told by friends that it was a fishy smell, and I could sort of find the resemblance. I wasn't sure whether I liked it or disliked it, but either way I found it incredibly erotic. I moved my mouth closer in, extending my tongue in anticipation of contact. 

Before I touched her, the thought dawned on me that I really had no idea what I was doing and it would surely show. My sister would almost certainly know I was new at this, and probably by that (and my all-around social life) deduce that I was a virgin. Ah, fuck it.

My tongue made contact halfway down her slit. The taste hit me like a hammer, almost making me flinch at its strength, but I licked upwards, trying desperately not to appear clueless. Alissa made a sharp intake of breath, the air hissing on her teeth as it went by. It soothed me. 

I went back to the bottom of her slit and tried to dig my tongue inside her on the second lap. The taste intensified, feeling like it touched and excited every one of my taste buds so that I couldn't escape it. Taking my right hand, I put it at the top of her pussy and tried to find her clit. I was no stranger to the anatomy, so I knew where to look, and after only a short second I found it. It was harder to the touch than I had anticipated, the small ball, but as soon as I touched it Alissa moaned very softly. My heart rose. I must be doing something right.

I kept the same pattern, rubbing her clit with my index finger while lapping up and down at her pussy. Her moans got steadily louder and more frequent. At one stage she gripped the back of my head with both hands and forcefully pushed me in closer to her pussy, mashing my nose into damp skin. Her musk was forced deeper into my senses, invading my nose and embedding itself on the back of my throat, making me feel like I was softly drowning in it. But I didn't change what I was doing, ecstatic that I may have actually lucked into the right method. I must have, because not long after that she came.

I knew it because I suddenly felt the presence of much more moisture on her pussy and my face, along with slight muscular spasms. More obviously, she let out a great long groan and slapped her hands down on the comforter either side of her, making a loud thwack. She tensed up a final time, grabbing a handful of fabric, and sighed.

'Oh, God,' she said, with her head back, spine arched and eyes closed. 

Her breathing was heavy and labored as she traced large circles in the comforter with her hands. I had stopped, leaning back on my haunches and admiring her in the deepest of pleasure. A contented smile had formed on her face, as though she was asleep and dreaming of something pleasant. My cock ached when I reminded myself it was me that put that expression on her face. I had made my sister cum.

Without saying anything else Alissa swung her legs around to the other side of the single bed and sat up. She motioned slightly with her head, calling me over. This time I knew exactly what to do without even an apprehensive thought. I stepped around and stood in front of her, my groin directly in line with her face. Instantly her hands went for my belt buckle, unhooking it with supreme dexterity and speed, and undoing the zipper all in one, clean motion. Free of their bind to my waist, Alissa let go of them and my jeans fell to the floor on their own. I didn't step out of them, not willing to make the same idiot of myself as last time. Also free of the heavy and binding denim, my boxer shorts sprung out towards my sister's face, my cock finally free to stick straight out instead of running down my leg. 

In another smooth movement my boxers ended up around my ankles with my jeans. She hooked her two index fingers in under the elastic and slid quickly down, making contact with my skin for the first time. It was like an electric shock; my body tensed up all over and my cock jumped a little. As it bounced back up from being pulled down with my boxers, Alissa grabbed my cock with her right hand – the first time someone else had properly touched my cock. Gripping it hard at the base, she sent a second electric chill across my body.

She moved her mouth towards me. I held my breath. The first thing to touch was her tongue, extending out to cup the underside of the tip of my cock before her mouth caught up to close over the whole head. The sudden warm, moist contact to my cock gave me a shudder up my spine. It felt better than anything I had ever done, and it made me so hard I was afraid a blood vessel was about to burst. 

She slowly took more and more in until I hit the back of her throat. The sensation of having so much of my cock enveloped inside her warm mouth was unbelievable and indescribable. She started to move back, a little quicker, every now and then accidentally letting a pocket of air slip between lip and cock to make an incredibly erotic slurping noise. She spent most of the time looking up into my eyes, like all the best point-of-view blowjob movies, but so much better. Every time those blue eyes turned upwards to look at me my cock would spasm and I felt a tiny bit of pre-cum ooze out. She would twirl her tongue around the tip and catch it as she licked by.

I started to wonder how long I could go. If I barely lasted a minute with a pseudo handjob, how long could I possibly last in an all-out blowjob? Do I stop her and move on so I don't blow my load during foreplay? Or will she know when to move?

I put my hand on the side of her head to steady myself, but she took it as the signal to finish up. She pulled her mouth off my cock in one short action, again making that slurping sound as her lips found nothing but air to suck. She left a string of saliva snaking from my spit-covered cock to her chin, where she had dribbled slightly. She severed it with a seductive lick of her lips, looking up at me with that naughty smile I had been fantasizing about.

She got up and moved over to her bedside table. I took the opportunity to step out of my jeans and boxers without the pressure of her watching me. She opened the drawer and pulled out a condom.

'Here,' she said bluntly, handing it to me.

My heart froze. I'd never tried to put a condom on before. I'd had two sitting in my wallet since junior high, but I had never once thought of taking one out and having a go. Even to practice. What a stupid thing to do. My fear showed, as Alissa looked at me strangely while I held the condom motionless in my hand, staring at it. 

I opened the packet with shaking fingers. It ripped open, almost forcing the condom to fall out and onto the floor. I took it out, my fingers still shaking. I'd never even felt one before, but it wasn't a great departure from what I expected. It was rubbery, with a sticky lubricant that felt strange on my fingers.

I brought it down to my cock and lined up the circle with my head. It shouldn't be so hard, I thought. But every time I tried to roll it down it would snap off my cock, forcing me to re-adjust and try again.

'Are you serious?' Alissa said.

She reached out with one hand and pulled downwards. It rolled down perfectly all the way to the base. I looked at her sheepishly as she shook her head.

She climbed back on to her bed, taking up her position on all fours. Her clothes were still on; taking away some of the effect, but her bare pussy was exposed and stretched slightly open.

'Well?' she said, looking around at me.

I quickly ripped my shirt off over my head and climbed onto the bed behind her. I took my position on my knees, lining it up so that my cock was resting just outside her pussy. That's when the reality of what I was doing really sunk in. Alissa whipped her blonde hair around, getting ready, and it really hit me that I was about to fuck my sister. My sister. In the prior few days I had retained some reservations about it, but right then it was the thing I wanted to do most in this world. I wanted to fuck my sister.

I held my cock steady as I pushed it inside her. Her muscles instantly grabbed hold of my intruder and squeezed a tight grip around me. I threw my head back in utter pleasure. I slid in a little more, feeling the foreskin get pulled back the further I went. It had always kind of made me uncomfortable to pull the skin back, but it didn't bother me one bit now. The exposed and sensitive head of my cock, even under a condom, amplified my pleasure many times over. I had to fight the strong urge to moan.

'Mmmm,' Alissa said softly.

I pulled out and pushed back in again, trying to get a rhythm going. I pumped my hips, watching as my covered cock disappeared and reappeared again out of my sister's hole. Every time I pumped in I was grabbed by her pussy like a lost child who had just found their mother again and didn't want to let go. I tried to emphasize the strokes by grabbing hold of her ass and pulling her onto me with every stroke, causing her to sway in time with me.

I found, though, that it was tough to keep the co-ordination going. I would pump hard for a few seconds before inexplicably being unable to keep in time anymore and slowing down. After the third time, Alissa turned her head and shot me a frustrated look.

She suddenly moved away from me, getting up on her knees and turning to face me. She grabbed hold of my shoulders and pushed my backwards until I was lying down. I became excited at the thought that she would ride me. It had always been my favorite position to watch. She clambered on top me and sat on my pelvis, my cock pointing straight up in right in front of her. I expected her to be heavy, and have it be painful for her to sit like that, but she was surprisingly light. It was even kind of comfortable.

She reached down and squeezed my cock into her. It felt quite different being inside her at that angle, as my cock pushed against the edge of the inside of her pussy. She started to gyrate her hips around my cock, not rising off it at all, and holding her hands on my chest for support. It seemed like a well practiced maneuver; just like the method she jerked me off with that Friday night, and it somehow managed to give me maximum pleasure. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply, concentrating hard on her technique and speed with which she moved.

The position allowed me to look at her fully. Her long blonde hair hung around her covered tits, which I took the chance to finally touch. I grabbed at them clumsily with both hands, causing her to look down at me with a strange look on her face. I fondled them slowly, trying to take in every sensation the soft, bra-less breasts gave my hands. And I kept looking at her. I was overcome with a sudden powerful feeling of eroticism seeing how my sister rode my cock with such a professional style. She started to look so out of place to me in a sexual environment as I thought about all the times I'd looked at her face in a completely different context. It made it even hotter that she was in a sexual environment, like an added reminder that this is not the way I am supposed to be interacting with her. It pushed me over the edge.

I grabbed hold of her hips and held her down. Her eyes snapped open. I bucked my hips upward, trying to get that last little bit of penetration, and I exploded. I lost control of what was coming out of my mouth, letting out an entire chorus of groans and moans while my cock squirted what felt like my biggest load ever into the condom. That in itself was a strange feeling, as the small bulb of air left in the top filled up quickly with cum, leaving nowhere for the rest of the load to go but squeeze down the sides.

With a last little lunge of my hips up into my sister, I collapsed on the bed with a sigh. She looked at me with that naughty smile again, her hands still resting on my chest.

'Wow,' I said.

She snorted with laughter.

'That's such a lame thing to say.'

She was smiling fully now, not the naughty, mischievous grin she had flashed me so many times recently, but the heart-warming beam that was so infectious.

'You realize I own you now,' she purred in my ear.

'Sure. You can fuck me anytime you want,' I replied with a smile. She returned it.

'I'm gonna go have a shower before mom and dad get back,' she said, tracing a line with her finger from my chin down my chest.

I put my hands behind my head and reveled in the post-coitus bliss. I still couldn't believe that my virginity had gone to my little sister. My much more experienced little sister.

'Just, next time,' she said, sticking her head back through the door, 'try to go a little longer than two minutes.'

So there would be a next time? I started to become giddy at the idea of this being a regular thing.

It was then that I felt that the dynamic between us had suddenly shifted. It was like the sibling rivalry had disappeared along with my virginity. We weren't out to contradict whatever the other said or just pick an argument because we can't appear weak or complacent. I guess we'd finally grown up.