A Sibling Love Story

Incest adults stories: A Sibling Love Story (cont)

She moved her foot away, but so slowly that her toes seemed to slide down my cock, as if she was investigating my size. If she wasn’t my sister, I would have taken this as a clear indication that she was game for whatever naughty ideas I had in store for later in the evening.

I took her foot tentatively in my hands, all the while trying to ignore my cock that was desperately crying for freedom considering what had just occurred. It could have been an accident, but her slow removal and her smile, which implied flirtation, had my head spinning and my cock demanding attention.

A couple of minutes later our salads arrived and I reluctantly let her foot go. Her smile dazzled brighter than the Christmas lights behind her, “Thanks big brother.”

I replied playfully, “You are welcome baby sister,” yet I was beginning to really wonder if Jayda was flirting with me, even though the thought itself seemed absurd.

The rest of dinner consisted of eating a delicious meal, drinking a full bottle of wine (I looked twenty-five and Jayda somehow passed for twenty-one, so we had lucked out not being carded), and a lot of conversation. I couldn’t help but feel there was an underlying sexual tension that was simmering below the surface…I felt it and I was growing more confident she felt it too.

For desert she ordered the ‘Chocolate Climax’ and quipped to me, after the waiter left, “I have never had a climax before.”

I actually had wine shoot out my nose as I gasped at my sister’s words.

She smiled a look dripping with a naughtiness I didn’t really think existed in her, “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m talking about climaxes with my sister,” I replied, adding, “I like to think of you as a sweet, pure virgin so “I hope you are referring to the dessert.”

“I am all of those things,” she replied with a sigh, before adding, her naughty smile back, “but I hope not for much longer.”

I was stunned into silence. Was she implying that she wanted me, her brother, to take her virginity?

She continued, “I am so sick of people treating me like a sweet innocent girl. If they only knew how many hours I spent online reading and watching porn, I even have written a couple of stories.”

“Porn stories?” I asked stunned, trying to get my head around this bizarre conversation.

“Dirty stories of innocent virgins who become sluts,” she said, no longer smiling.

“You are fucking with me right?” I asked, completely unravelled by what I had just heard.

“Maybe,” she smiled, the double-entendre obvious. Did she mean she was ‘fucking’ with me like she was kidding or that she wouldn’t mind ‘fucking me’?

The waiter arrived with dessert and she joked, “Come help me with my CLIMAX big brother.”

My cock screamed for attention as I stammered, trying to play along and act casual, “S-s-sure baby sister, I would love to help you with your CLIMAX.”

Without missing a beat, my so-called innocent sister replied, “That is a promise I plan to make you keep,” before taking a bite of the chocolate dessert. She let out a moan like Meg Ryan did in her orgasm scene in ‘When Harry Met Sally’, “Mmmmmmm, this is so good.”

My cock again flinched in my pants demanding, begging, for release. I took my fork and decided I too could play the flirtation game. “Yes, I bet I could eat this all night long.”

It was her turn for her face to go red. I had called her bluff. We ate in silence, the playful, clearly sibling inappropriate, banter lingering ominously in the air.

Desert done, the bill paid, we headed to the theatre. She again hooked her arm around mine, but the banter had turned everything to awkwardness. Neither of us knew what to say or how to return to our usual sibling conversation.

The huge FAO Schwarz store with the massive Barbie display finally broke the conversation fog. “OMG,” Jayda gasped, stopping in her tracks and tittering on her heels; if her arm wasn’t hooked to mine I am sure she would have face dived into the sidewalk.

“I didn’t think you were a Barbie Girl anymore,” I joked, remembering her saying she wasn’t a kid anymore on her sixteenth birthday, ‘that Barbies were for kids’.

“Shut up!” she said, singing that horrific song from the one hit wonder band Aqua, “I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world.”

Suddenly noticing it myself, I pointed out, “Actually, you know you really do look just like a Barbie.”

“Really?” she asked, with such an innocence that made it obvious my statement had flattered her.

“Seriously, if they were making a live action Barbie movie you would be the perfect casting choice,” I continued.

Her hand slid down my arm and she took my hand in hers, our fingers intertwining. A simple everyday thing, holding hands, we had done it many times when we were younger, yet this time it was intimate and the feeling inside me spoke volumes. I wanted my sister; not in a ‘nasty fuck her brains out’ way, no sadly I wanted her in an ‘I want to make love to her all night’ way.

She seemed to feel the same way as for a moment there was silence. Finally, I said, “We have a few minutes, Barbie Girl.”

“We do?” she asked, her eyes big as a little girl on Christmas morning.

“Come on,” I smiled, pulling her into the pink haven of a childhood past.

Once in the store her eyes lit up like the Fourth of July, her head ping-ponging from one crazy elaborate display to another.

I noticed a Grease Barbie doll display and reluctantly let go of my sister’s hand and said, “I will meet you at the front in five minutes.”

“Ok,” she agreed, distracted by the overall girly ambiance.

I snuck away and grabbed two Sandy dolls knowing they were the perfect present. She loves musicals and her favorite movie as a kid was Grease. I have heard the soundtrack a thousand times blaring out of her room or in the car on road trips. I quickly paid for them and had them double bagged so baby sister couldn’t see what I bought.

I was a couple of minutes late as the line of moms and daughters was long; I felt a bit strange being the only male in line and the only one without a daughter with me. I almost shit at the price, but figured it would be worth it to see the look on her face.

She was waiting for me at the door and teased me when she saw me with a bright glow in the dark pink bag. “Pink really is your color.”

“I know, it really brings out my inner feminine side,” I quipped.

She took my arm and I led her back out into the hustle and bustle of early evening in New York City. There were men in suits talking on their headpieces; there were ladies in dresses with bags from overpriced stores; there were teens with baggy pants with their underwear showing; tourists snapping pictures left and right; there was every race, every religion, walking side by side. If only the world could move with such smooth motion, such randomness and such multiculturalism.

A couple of minutes later, we reached the theatre. Suits and ties, dresses and heels everywhere, another smorgasbord of races and ages, waiting for a night of musical entertainment, waiting for a fun escape from their day to day lives.

We got into line as Jayda looked around star-struck. I let her look and just enjoyed the strange feeling of tranquility that washed over me just by holding her hand.

Finally, the doors opened to the theatre and we walked in together looking like a young couple to anyone looking our way.

“Enjoying yourself?” I asked, after our tickets were scanned.

“It is even more amazing than I had imagined,” she said, still overwhelmed by the sheer thrill of being here.

“New York City does go over the top better than anywhere else,” I joked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

After a few minutes of celebrity searching, Jayda said, “I really should go to the ladies’ room before the show starts.”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze and let go leaving a sudden emptiness in me. As I watched my beautiful sister saunter away, I shook my head. What was wrong with me? Sure she was flirting with me. Sure she was the most beautiful person inside and out I knew. Sure she was the perfect woman for me. Yet, she was my sister. I could feel the internal fight between right and wrong, my head vs my other head, and yet I flip-flopped back and forth between the two extremes. I wanted nothing more than to make love to my sister, yet obviously that was wrong. Why did doing wrong seem so right? Why was the apple so tempting? Why was Eve so perfect?

“I’m back,” she said, taking my hand and comfortably fitting back into me like the puzzle piece lost long ago and finally found. Seeing me lost in thought, she asked, again giving my hand a slight squeeze, “What you thinking, big brother?”

“Oh, nothing,” I lied.

“Too bad,” she purred, as if reading my dirty thoughts.

We looked at souvenirs; I bought her a t-shirt and a poster and got a quick kiss on the lips for my thoughtfulness. “Thanks big brother,” she said, a sultry sweetness in her voice, another hint of her flirtation with me.

Hands again perfectly entwined like they were meant to be, we headed into the auditorium and to our seats.

She said:

Once seated, we were silent. I had given a plethora of flirtatious hints of my intent, my hunger to commit incest, yet I wasn’t sure my sexy brother was catching on. I wanted to lose my virginity to my older brother. I pretty much screamed it to him with my words, my actions, and my dress, and he had responded in kind with his own flirtation, yet I wasn’t sure if he understood my true intent.

I am eighteen; I am a virgin; I love my brother more than any boy or man I know. He is funny; he is sweet; he is drop dead sexy; he is compassionate and caring; he is perfect boyfriend material, perfect for anyone, but me…his sister.

Although my friends always talked about how lucky I was to have such a hot brother, I always disagreed. I had perfection in my reach, but was not allowed to touch it. I had the shiny red apple in my garden, but could not take a bite. I was completely handcuffed by society’s draconian views of incest. I knew, even more as this glorious evening transpired, that I loved him, not only as a brother but also as a potential lover. I am determined to lose my virginity to him tonight, to give myself unconditionally to him. But how does one say such a thing to your own flesh and blood? What if he doesn’t feel how I feel? What if he thinks I’m sick and twisted for wanting such a thing?

The idea of seducing my brother occurred rather accidentally while reading porn online. I had read quite a few stories online and had come to read a lot of one author’s stories. Her stories of seduction, submission and stockings hit all my hot spots. Sadly, after reading all the lesbian, non consensual, mature, group and even gay stories, I craved more. The author had a variety of incest stories and hungry to submerge myself more into her words, I reluctantly clicked on an incest story.

After reading just one incest story the light bulb went on.

One story and a naughty, socially unacceptable idea popped inside my head. I tried to push it out of my thoughts and fantasies, but the more I tried to push it away the more I wanted it. I began fantasizing about seducing my brother; having him make love to me, take my virginity. I tried to shake the naughty, inappropriate thoughts out of my head, yet the dreams and fantasies only got more intense and more constant.

Becoming obsessed with my brother, I searched Andy’s home computer which he had left,instead taking his laptop to college and learned of his fetish for pantyhose and stocking-clad feet. I always wore pantyhose and wondered if I had somehow triggered his fetish. I decided I would dress to tease him during the Christmas holidays even though I never expected for my fantasies to become a reality. Yet, then fate decided to allow the dominoes to all fall into place; the flooding, the play, a hotel alone and a night out in NYC all seemed to set the scene of seduction.

I put my hand on Andy’s leg just as the lights went down and gave a squeeze. I exclaimed giddily, “This is so exciting.”

“I can’t wait,” he replied, mocking my excitement.

My hand moved up just a smidge, desperately trying to say what I couldn’t say with words. I noticed his eyes go big and it took all my internal strength not to go for broke and find out if my brief foot assessment was right, he is big.

Instead, I focused on the musical I had dreamed of seeing since I can’t remember when. The next hour flew by as I immersed myself in the haunting love story of Christine and the Phantom. Their relationship was so complex and so taboo that I instantly made the parallel between their relationship and the one I was considering.

As the lights came up for break, I turned to my brother and said, trying to stir up the heat, “Well, first a chocolate climax and now I am near an oratory orgasm.”

“This may not be the best place for that sis,” Andy replied, always quick with a one liner.

“I guess I will have to wait until I get back to the hotel,” I countered, literally throwing myself at him with innuendo.

I noticed him slyly adjust himself, using his program to attempt to hide the impact my words were having on him. I could also see he was trying to process my intent and I revelled in the thought that I was making him hard. I could literally taste the forbidden fruit, so tantalizingly close and I wanted to take a big bite. I leaned in and kissed him on the lips, just for a second longer than a sibling kiss would be, before standing up and saying, “I need to powder my nose or whatever else these dressed up women do during intermission.”

He laughed uncomfortably as he stood up too. “I will get us something to drink.”

“Wine,” I suggested, “I want to get a little wild tonight.” I started walking through the aisle before turning around and adding, “Actually, I want to get a lot wild tonight.” I saw his jaw drop just as I turned and continued down the aisle, leaving him little doubt of my intent I hoped. Was I crossing ‘The Point of No Return’?

After my restroom break, which was tediously long (why are women’s restrooms not bigger?), Andy was waiting for me with a glass of wine. I sauntered over to him and taking the wine I again pushed the invisible line we were seemingly balancing on, “Are you trying to get your sister drunk?”

“That would be fun to see,” he replied, “I have never seen you drunk before.”

Frustrated by his answer, I quipped, dripping with intention, “Well, you may see a whole new side of me before the night is over, BIG brother.”

“I would like that,” he smiled back, finally hinting he was catching onto my obvious flirtation. I was literally throwing myself at him (as I had I even did when I fell into his arms back at the hotel).