It was late afternoon on a mid-June Wednesday following my junior year, and while my university career so far was reasonably successful, the summer itself was shaping up to be a total bust. And very depressing, too. I was sitting in the big, old, scruffy naugahyde easy chair in my upstairs room in just a pair of track shorts, trying to read a new science fiction novel and not really succeeding because I was too busy feeling morbidly sorry for myself.

The folks were out of town for several days, so when I heard the floorboards creak out in the hall, I knew it was my fifteen-year-old kid sister, Susan. She�s a sweet kid and we�ve always gotten along well, which put me ahead of every other guy I knew when I was growing up who had a sister. There�s just the two of us and we got into the habit early of depending on each other for company and support. We argue a lot, it�s true, but we don�t fight.

Sure enough, Susan drifted into my room a moment later, looking a little bored. I glanced her way and noted the frayed denim shorts with the badly split side seams, the faded, rather thin tee-shirt torn off short, and the bright red nail polish on her bare toes. Every time I looked, it seemed her legs had gotten longer. The tee-shirt was old enough and small enough that her nicely developing breasts put some strain on the cotton. Her thick blonde hair had been piled up in a loose knot atop her head and skewered with a chopstick from the take-out Chinese place Dad was partial to. Along with her other positive points, Susan has always been a cutie. I don�t think she ever worked at it, really. It just came naturally.

She moved up behind my chair and draped her slender arms over my shoulders, intertwining her long fingers on my bare chest. I felt her breath tickle my ear.

"Tommy, I was so sorry to hear you broke up with your girlfriend," she said in a low voice. "Steph told me about it." Yeah, Stephanie�s older brother, George, was one of the gang I hung out with at school. There are no secrets in this neighborhood, even after you�ve left.

"Thanks." I reached up and patted her hand, and went back to trying not to think about Emily. I still wasn�t sure why she had dumped me over the weekend. We�d been dating exclusively for more than eight months and I was beginning to think exploringly in terms of a permanent, formalized relationship. And now this, with no warning. I had spent Monday and Tuesday reviewing every action and spoken word between us for the past few months, and I really didn�t think it was my fault. But Emily was an impatient, spur-of-the-moment sort of person, where I tended to be methodical and cautious. Had she just gotten bored with me? I sighed. I really missed her.

Well, I missed the sex, too. Emily was an enthusiastic and inventive partner in bed. And she was sharing an apartment with three other girls, so we could always disappear into her room for a couple hours and latch the door. But I also missed just sitting around and laughing and talking with her, and taking walks hand-in-hand, and all that.

"I always thought she wasn�t good enough for my big brother anyway." Well, that was true. The few times I had invited Emily over for a family dinner — I was living at home to save money, since we live in a college town anyway — Susan had been polite but reserved and had stared at my girlfriend whenever she thought she wasn�t looking, with what I interpreted as slightly hostile disapproval. I had put it down to adolescent loyalty and jealousy, and forgot about it.

Susan continued to stand with her arms around my neck, brushing my sparse chest hair with her fingers now and then. Her nose was tickling the edge of my ear and I could make out the faint citrus tang of her favorite bath soap. She seemed about to say something and then changed her mind.

"What?" I asked.

She cleared her throat. "I was just wondering: Did you love her, Tom?"

I considered the question. "Well, I was beginning to think I did. Now, . . . I don�t know."

Susan wrapped her arms more closely around my neck and put her ear down neck to mine. "Well, you still have me, because I love you." I reached up and stroked her hair.

"I know you do, babe. And you know I love you, too."

She hugged me again. "I really do love you, Tommy. Really."

This conversation was becoming slightly strange.

I took her wrists in my hands and gently unwrapped her from around my neck. I kept hold of her right hand and used it to prompt her to move out from behind me and over beside the arm of the chair. She looked a bit puzzled, standing there with her arm crossing her body. I tugged a little and she got the idea, turning to put her back to the chair and then hopping up on the arm. I let go of her hand and slid my arms around her slender waist, slowly toppling her over backward to land in my lap. She grinned up at me as she wiggled to get herself comfortable. She used to do that falling-backward trick when she was five or six and wanted attention, but it had been a long time since Susan had actually sat in my lap.

I had to admit, she made a nice lapful. She saw me looking her over and her face took on a sort of cautiously pleased expression. She knew what I was seeing — an extremely pretty, increasingly sexy teenage girl in just enough clothing to be able to answer the door if she had to. When she slid into my lap, I had suddenly realized, from the independent movement of her small breasts, that she must not be wearing a bra. I wondered for a moment if that was for my benefit.

I put my hand on her kneecap and slowly stroked the lower six inches of her smooth thigh. She watched my hand move and I thought I detected a pink tint developing on her cheeks. As a porcelain-complexioned blonde with freckles, my sister was always an easy blusher.

"Susan, . . . what you said just now, . . . what exactly were you saying?"

She looked up into my eyes for a long few moments, then turned toward me and snuggled a little closer to my chest. "I meant just what I said." She laid the palm of her hand on my chest. "Don�t you know that I love you, Tommy?"

"I thought I did. Now I�m not sure." She seemed a little hurt. "I mean, I don�t think I know what you mean by that."

She shrugged and studied her hand. "I don�t know to explain it. I just know how I feel." She looked up again with a rather serious expression. "I just know that I love you more than anything, Tom." She paused, then licked her lips a little. It dawned on me that she was nervous about this confession she was making. "Not just brother-sister love. Like, boy-girl love. Really."

She seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for a reaction. And I thought about the conversation I had had with Mom a couple weeks before.

I have found that if I make a point of being seen to do certain types of chores around the house, the ones I don�t really mind doing anyway, then the folks are much less inclined to insist that I do others that are much more unpleasant. So that�s what I was doing that afternoon: Emptying the clean load of dishes and silverware out of the dishwasher and putting them all back where they belonged on the shelves and in the drawers. It was kind of a game, trying to see how efficiently I could do it, with the fewest unnecessary moves or steps.

Mom was dicing a couple of tomatoes for the tilapia that evening and asking me assorted questions about my experiences at school. Somehow, that got us onto Susan�s first year in high school as compared to my own, six years before. And that led to something I had been working over in my mind about my sister.

"Mom, have you noticed anything weird lately about Susan�s behavior?"

My mother, always alert to words like "weird" when used in conjunction with any member of her family, paused with the chef�s knife in her hand and looked at me questioningly.

"It seems, the past few months, that every time I turn around, she�s looking at me. Odd looks, like she can�t figure out where she�s seen me before." My mother went back to her dicing. "When I asked her what she was doing, she just clammed up and stalked off. That�s not like her at all."

I glanced over to see Mom shaking her head and trying to smother a smile. "No big puzzle. The girl has a crush on you, Tom."

I stopped with a still-warm serving bowl in my hand and stared at her. "What? I�m her brother!"

"Doesn�t matter." She gave me an affectionate look. "She�s just discovered romance. It�s a stage all girls go through. Or they all used to. I certainly did." She laughed. "I had the biggest crush on my Uncle Harry when I was Susan�s age."

I thought about that. My great-uncle Harry was the youngest in a large family, while Mom�s father was the oldest. Harry was only about six years older than my mother, even though he was technically one of the previous generation. And I was five years older than Susan.

"But I got over it — and without embarrassing myself too badly, for which I am thankful. Your sister will get over it, too. But listen," she went on in her "pay attention" tone of voice, "I don�t want you saying anything snarky that would upset her. She admires you, Tom, you know she does, and believe me, you don�t want to mess with that. Just be tolerant of her, okay?"

"Mom, I�m not going to bite her head off or anything." I was perhaps a bit hurt that Mom thought it necessary to tell me to be nice to my sister. "I just hadn�t thought about it that way. But I wouldn�t hurt her for no reason."

"I know you wouldn�t, Tommy." She reached over and squeezed my arm, by way of apology, I guess. "You�ll find there are things in life a lot worse than having a sister who loves you."

But somehow, with Susan now having laid her head gently against my chest, I thought what she was feeling — or what she thought she was feeling — might be a bit more . . . intense . . . than this phase Mom had believed her youngest was going through. I didn�t know how I was going to deal with it, either, but I had a growing feeling I wasn�t going to be allowed to ignore it.

And now I had this very pretty, very sexy girl curled up warmly in my lap, those long, smooth legs within easy reach, and a pair of ripening breasts waiting behind a single layer of thin cotton. And no one else in the house to disturb us. All those things came into focus within about a tenth of a second, and my brain began to sweat.

I was already feeling lonely and frustrated and more than a little horny since Emily�s abrupt departure anyway. And while my little sister wasn�t actually offering her body to me — at least, I didn�t think she was — she had certainly made it clear she was psychologically available. What in God�s name was I going to do about all this?

While I sat there trying to sort out my confused emotions, Susan had been slowly stroking my bare chest, catching the hairs between her fingers and tugging them a little as her palm passed over. I didn�t know whether or not she was doing that consciously but it was quite arousing. I was stroking her back, feeling the bumps of her spine under my own fingers, and staring at her small, bare feet and her amazingly cute toes. Emily and I had engaged in various kinds of romantic and erotic play in bed, which included sucking on each other�s toes. Now I was imagining winding my tongue around and between my sister�s tarsals. If I wasn�t careful, I was going to drive myself crazy.

Finally, I semi-panicked. "Um, babe, I�m sorry but you need to get up now." I began gently shifting her off my lap. I thought I heard her sigh, but she moved — slowly. I wondered if she had somehow been reading my thoughts the past few minutes.

"Okay, I�m going." She stood there for a moment, watching me from under her long lashes. "I�m going to start making spaghetti in a little while. Are you going to help?"

"Of course. I�ll be down in a bit." It had been raining heavily and neither of us was interested in going out to eat. Fortunately, we�re the sort of family that always has a bunch of meals in Zip-Locs in the freezer, and that included several portions of Mom�s excellent Bolognese. All we had to do was defrost that and reheat it while the pasta was boiling.

Susan smiled and gave me a little fingertip wave as she tripped out the door. I heard her thumping down the stairs as I tried to pull my thoughts together and get my suddenly rampant hormones back under control.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, having gotten my head back together, at least temporarily, I was down in the kitchen, pulling out several partly-consumed packages of different shapes of pasta. Susan and I had always liked to mix and match, combining flat noodles with rigatoni and penne and whatever else was open. I already had a pot of water on to boil and my sister was thawing the bag of sauce in the microwave so she could fit it in a saucepan.

While the Bolognese was melting, she opened the fridge and pulled out the big plastic pitcher of ice water we kept handy. I turned away for a moment but then there was a stifled shriek and I whipped back around in time to see Susan being drenched by the fumbled pitcher. I leaped back out of the way and only got a little on my legs but my sister�s whole front was soaked. The pitcher had been only half full so the puddle wasn�t huge. I grabbed a bunch of hand towels out of the cupboard, threw them on the floor, and began pushing them around with my feet, getting the water corralled.

While I was doing that, Susan was gasping, shoulders hunched and arms outstretched, while water dripped off the edge of her tee-shirt and the ragged bottom of her shorts. I glanced up as she pulled the sodden cotton away from her body and stared a moment at the way her breasts were suddenly outlined beneath the clinging material.

Susan looked up and caught me at it. And I could almost see the gears shifting in her mind. She licked her lips and flicked me another quick glance. "Jeez, that�s cold!" She tried to wring out the lower edge of her shirt, not very successfully. "I�ve gotta . . ." she began, then suddenly pulled the shirt up and off over her head.

I stood there flat-footed, caught completely off guard, and stared at my little sister�s bare breasts. They weren�t very large but they were nicely shaped, and her nipples stood out like the hard rubber erasers on a couple of No. 2 pencils. Was that their normal state, I wondered, or was their rigidity the result of the cold water? Combined, perhaps, with her excitement at showing off her little tits to me?

She paused for a moment to let me look. I had no doubt whatever that that was what she was doing. But she wasn�t finished. After maybe ten seconds, during which I didn�t say a word and barely moved a muscle, she popped loose the snap at the front of her shorts, lowered the zipper, and shoved them down, doing a little shimmy at the end to drop them in a soggy wad to the kitchen floor. Now my gaze shifted somewhat numbly to her light blue bikini-cut panties, which displayed a cameltoe at the crotch.

After another quick look at me under her lashes, she bent and gathered up her wet clothing and tossed it in the empty side of the double sink. Then she straightened up and stared straight back at me staring at her. If she decided to strip off the panties, too, I was going to lose it.

Instead, she wiped the water droplets off her face with a tea towel, then tucked her hands behind herself and cocked her hip. "You like, Tommy?" Her voice was soft. All I could do was nod. "Do you want to touch me? I don�t mind."

I was still speechless. I gulped so loudly, even I could hear it. Susan tilted her head a little and gave me a little smile of triumph. She closed the short distance between us and stood on tiptoe so she could slip her arms around my neck. And when her smooth, warm lips fastened themselves to mine, the whole world shrank to only that point of contact. I put my arms around her automatically, pressing her close to me body to body as I kissed her back. My hands spread across her shoulder blades, then slid slowly down her back to her narrow waist. My fingers spread to cover both globes of that small bottom and I squeezed and pressed her groin against me. I registered those stiff little nipples drilling holes in my ribcage and I heard myself moan.

When we finally came up for air, my little sister gazed at me nose to nose for a moment, then sighed and I inhaled her breath.

"I love you so much, Tommy," she murmured. "I want you to love me. I�ll do anything." She paused a moment and her eyes drilled hotly into mine. "Anything at all." And then she kissed me again.

I was still running on automatic. I kissed her back because it felt at that moment like I had no choice. My mind was spinning around, looking for an escape route. My cock, on the other hand, being a much more basic part of me, had no doubts whatever. It was rapidly growing and stiffening and yelling at me to strip my shorts off and get on with it.

The second kiss ended thirty seconds later and my sister stood flat-footed, looking up at me with an expression of complete concentration that was almost unnerving. Without thinking about it, I set my hands on her waist, lifted her up, and sat her on the edge of the kitchen table. She smiled at me again and took my hands in hers.

"I want you to touch me, Tom. I want to feel your hands on me." She covered her breasts with my outspread palms and I squeezed. Her eyelids drooped and her lips parted and she gave a breathy little sigh that was the most erotically arousing sound I had ever heard, from any woman.

In the back of my head, my frantic conscience was clamoring. "Sister, sister, sister!" it yelled. "No, no, no!" I wasn�t listening. I would never have forced my little sister into a situation like this, I would never have hurt her in any way. But she was exuding pheromones by the bucketful. She wanted this to happen, and her age and our relationship and her own state of mind weren�t relevant, not at that moment. I don�t think either of was entirely sane just then.

I pinched Susan�s nipples between my fingers and she gasped and hunched her shoulders. I felt her nails digging into the backs of my hands. I crouched over her, pushing her to lie back, and I moved my hands around to hold her as I lowered my mouth and sucked the nearest nipple into my mouth. Susan moaned and grabbed my head, pressing it harder against her chest. I ran my tongue all around the rigid heat of her, swabbing the tip with my tongue and sucking harder. She was trembling and her hands were clutching at my hair frantically.

I could her whispering in my ear, "Oh God, oh, Tommy, oh God, oh God. . . ." Her obvious lust was even stronger and more desperate than mind. Whatever had been building up in her these past few months was about to erupt and inundate both of us.

My hands slid down her sides to her hips and my fingers hooked in the elastic of her panties and tugged them down. She immediately lifted her ass off the table so I could pull them hurriedly down her thighs, her legs, and off her feet. I�m sure she didn�t know what was coming next any more than I did, but she spread her legs wide apart without hesitation. There were still a few drops of ice water caught in the small tangle of blonde curls just above her cunt.

I�m a tall guy and the table was rather low, and when I knelt, my face was at exactly the right height. I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward the front of the table until her crotch stuck out over the edge, and then I buried my face in her moist and aromatic pussy. I spread her labia with my fingers and stuck my straining tongue as far up into her as I could, lapping up the moisture and then sucking her hard little clit between my lips.

Susan squeaked and her grip on my head became more frantic. I licked and sucked for all I was worth, not thinking about anything except trying to consume her completely. I wanted to chew her up and swallow her. My lust was nearly out of control. A part of me — a very small part — waited in the background and wondered where all this was going. My straining cock had no doubts. I had a sudden image, as I lapped at that sweet little pussy, of my rigidly engorged penis spreading her even farther open and sliding up into her, mashing her cervix against the end of her narrow passage, taking her over.

But that small observational part of my mind held up a big warning sign with the word PREGNANT! on it. If there was one thing that influenced my relationships with girls, no matter how willing and enthusiastic they were, it was the fear, the absolute terror, of getting one of them knocked up. And no matter how unhinged I might be just now, I knew absolutely that if I should somehow get my little sister pregnant, the world would come to an end as thoroughly as if the Earth had been struck by a giant asteroid.

I shoved that image of fucking Susan down hard and redoubled my licking and lapping, pushing her knees back to open her up even farther, burying my face between her trembling legs and painting tongue-stripes up and down from her clit to her asshole. Susan�s grip on my hair was becoming painful but I really didn�t care. She was half-sobbing as her body trembled and quivered. And then she gasped and gulped and her hips jerked and bucked, and suddenly there was a lot more warm moisture trickling into my mouth. I nipped at her clit and sucked at it hard and she made a strangling sound and yanked hard on my hair. It took almost a minute for the tremors to die away.

Given her age and the feelings she had been bottling up, I was pretty sure (if I thought about it at all) that my little sister had been masturbating regularly. I was sure she had gotten herself off more than a few times. But I was equally sure — because I knew her ordinarily cautious nature so well — that this was the first time any guy had done this to her. And that I was the first guy to bring her nakedly to orgasm.

I was shaky myself as I climbed to my feet. Susan had released my head and lay there on the kitchen table, limb and boneless and covered with sweat, eyes closed and mouth open as she tried to breathe. I wondered if she had fainted for a few seconds.

I slipped my arms under her back and raised her up and she put her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. I held her close to me and her widespread legs wrapped themselves around my waist. She was whispering in my ear again, almost feverishly. "Oh, Tommy, I love you, I love you, I want you so much, oh God, I love you. . . ." Her pleading tone wound itself around my heart.

I couldn�t think of anything to say in response to that kind of emotion so I just held her tight, pressing her slender, naked body against me and slowly stroking her back.

After a few minutes, sanity began to return to both of us. Susan turned loose of me and wiped her eyes rather sheepishly. She wasn�t suddenly shy about continuing to display her body, though, and just picked up a hand towel and tried to wipe the sweat off her breasts. I glanced toward the stove and noted that the pot of water had nearly boiled away. Fortunately, I hadn�t yet dumped the pasta in there or it would be a congealed mass by now. The time window on the microwave blinked pathetically. The plastic bag of sauce had probably given up.

Susan scooted closer to the edge of the table and I lifted her off and set her on her feet. She put her arms around my chest and squeezed and I stroked her hair. We stood that way for a couple of minutes. Finally, she sighed and released me. She leaned back, her hands on my shoulders and gave me that deep stare again.

"Tommy, . . . maybe I�m crazy, I don�t know. But if I had any doubts before, I don�t now. I love you. That�s all. I love you. I can�t do anything to change that and I don�t want to. I like loving you. And you make me horny as hell, too," she added with a small grin. She hesitated and licked her lips. "I don�t know what�s going to happen now, though. I want to make love with you, Tom, but I don�t know if we can."

"Sweetheart, I don�t think that would be a good idea at all. It could all go so wrong."

She nodded. "I know. But I can�t help it. I really want to do it with you. I really, really want my first fuck to be with you."

God, I was going to Hell. I didn�t even believe in Hell, but I suspected I was going there anyway. The yearning on Susan�s face was overwhelming my desperate defenses against my own lustful thoughts.

"Listen, . . . we�ll figure something out, I promise. But we have to be so careful. This is going to be like crawling through a mine field with your eyes closed." I gave her another hug and she went up on her toes and kissed me again.

"Well," she said with a wide, warm smile. "I guess I can�t ask for more than that." She looked around at the kitchen and then glanced down at her nudity. "I think I�m going to go jump in the shower and find some dry clothes, if you can get supper back on track." She slid her hand down my front and squeezed my fading erection through my shorts, and her smile got warmer. "And I�m going to be thinking about how I can get you inside me, Tommy." She patted me lightly on the chest and then skipped off lightly upstairs.

I sat down rather heavily and considered what I was getting myself into. Mom had said there were worse things in life than having a sister who loved you. I was pretty sure she hadn�t been considering a situation like this. But the attraction of making it with Susan, sister or not, was undeniable. Right or wrong, I knew I was going to organize an opportunity for us as soon as I could, and Devil take the hindmost.

I got down on my knees with a sigh and began blotting up the rest of the spilled water.

Copyright 2015 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.