“I-Inside… please… just this once, I need you inside me – please.” She urged me, but I kept to her outers for a minute longer, then, I snuck my finger inside. With ever lick, I gently moved it slower and slower, easing her in until I felt what I wanted – that unevenness along her anterior wall. My finger slid along the highly mucosal wall in tune with my licking and I could feel its effects immediately. The musculature of her pelvis – mistaking my finger for my cock – attempted to milk me of my impregnating juices, desperate to douse her inner fire as she build steadier and steadier towards her climax.
“J-Josh, no – I’m gonna cum. I’m-…” I don’t really know what got into me – perhaps it was a flashing memory of her dirty talk. But I drew my mouth back from playing with her nub to whisper into her vagina: “That’s right. Cum for me, Sarah – cum in your brother’s mouth.”
Her thighs slapped so hard against my ears I thought surely she’d pressed them into my skull as she ceased fondling her breasts to grab hold of my hair and press my face into her crotch. Her pussy pushed forth gobs of grool on my face, staining me from forehead to chin as she sawed herself up and down on me, screaming out into the night’s air in the most violent display of euphoria I’d ever seen.
We lay there, on our backs, staring up at the stars again. Neither had spoken a word since Sarah’s climax – neither felt the urge, I suppose. Curiously, I felt… little. I thought I’d be overwhelmed by the guilt and the wrongness, but Sarah was a smart girl. Like our first kiss, this was no less of a romantic memory – something we’d take with us for the rest of our lives, wherever those might lead. A single glance over at her wide eyes told me as much.
Finally, after several minutes of panting, she whispered: “I-… I think I cummed my brain out… does that work? Did I taste like brain?” I looked down at my now-calming cock and shook my head. “I’d say no, but I think you proved me wrong by… well… that.”
For all her life I’d been the big brother – the one with the answers and the one meant to protect. But as I lay there, naked and splayed out, I felt… vulnerable. Stupid. She wasn’t my fellow student who’d come to me for an answer, nor was she a colleague seeking a second opinion. She was my sister… with benefits… probably racking her mind for the same answers I sought. “Don’t.” She smiled and shook her head. “What?” I asked. “You were about to say something stupid… I told you… it’s just fun. A lot of fucking fun.” I looked down at my cum-covered chest. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t going to say anything about that. I was going to say that this has been the best second date of my life.” She broke into laughter at that and quickly stroked my arm. “It’s your only second date, sweetie.” There it was again – that word that made my heart thump. The thump one was not supposed to feel around family. A thump that could ruin lives.
The next two days passed without any physical weirdness, but we’d soon settled into the routine of spending whatever free time we had doing siblingly things – I’d even resurrected my old gaming computer only to find it horribly outdated, but we’d had some fun reliving game-series we’d been too busy to try. Well, I saw ‘we’, but my sister kept calm and kept typing on her laptop with impressive speeds. She swore inspiration had struck her, but the details were not mine to know – it was something between her and her college’s teachers, whom she swore had expressed an interest in her latest work.
Regardless of the content, it was nice to sit on my bed and play games while she typed away with her headset on, occasionally throwing me glances of sadness, happiness, hope and I daresay familiar love. Authors, like so many other artists, I learned to be an emotional, however private, people.
Her phone had taken to buzzing every now and then, which she’d check, smile and then put away – a curious habit for someone who claimed not to have any friends, but determined not to get in her way, I’d let it go unasked. If she was making friends – or better yet, something more – then I’d be happy to stay out of her hair and let our confusing physicality be the past. With how she hadn’t approached me for any desire since the hike, I’d let it pass – despite feeling somewhat… hopeful, at times.
One morning, at breakfast, I’d found my eyes wandering to an article one of my colleagues had recently published with an honorable mention of my name and as I scanned her findings in regards to visual migraines, I chewed on a pancake while my sister giggled loudly at her phone. Finally, after days of practically begging me to interrogate her about her busy phone, I asked. “Fine. Who is it? Prospective boyfriend or friend?” She looked up at me with a mischievous smirk and spoke: “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to get upset, all right?” I felt that horrific thumping in my chest again – an almost painful sensation as I looked to her smiling, blue eyes. She was happy… she was content… whoever that was, this was going somewhere that was good for her.
“I’ve got us a double date.” I nearly choked on my pancake.
“Y’what!?” She stepped up from the table to pat my back lovingly and spoke: “Jesus, man, chew your food. I’ve never done the home-licker.” I decided to let that one pass, but felt a pang of guilt as she saw the contents of my phone and quickly grabbed it. She narrowed her eyes at the retinal imagery and slowly shook her head with disappointment. “Since you’ve been to busy looking at disgusting pictures, I took it upon myself to get us some dates. This is unacceptable.” She fingered the tab shut and gave me back my phone after the brief scolding, leaving me sighing with guilt. I put the phone back down on the table as she walked around and took her seat again.
“Listen, Josh… I… think we should see other people.” She began, folding her arms with an exaggerated expression of dread. I was beginning to like these games. I held my hand to my chest and spoke: “What, I’m not good enough for you anymore!?” She bit back her grin, apparently glad I had chosen to take the… event… with the same humor she had.
“It’s not that. It’s too good – I don’t want to jeopardize what we have!” This exercise, in addition to disarming the dreary topic at hand, also served as a way to have an emotional talk while keeping the distance we both seemed to gravitate towards.
I lay a dramatic hand to my forehead and spoke: “Alas, I dread you are right. It is too good – we will soon be too strange and institutionalized for one-another’s company. It will hinder your prospects of a good life outside these walls should it remain too comfortable.” She broke from her smiling – discarding her game-face in an instant. She reached out to grab my hand and urged: “That’s-… that’s not what I’m saying, you know. I just… we shouldn’t… is my point coming across here?” Her discomfort spoke more than words ever could. I grabbed her hand in turn and nodded agreeingly: “Yeah, no, you’re definitely right. This has been fun – it’s been really fun, but I think you’re right in that seeing other people would be a good idea. I think it goes without saying I never in my wildest dreams thought that this would be a thing. Which it isn’t – it definitely isn’t a thing…” It was amusing how our common ramblings seemed to get the point across for the other. Though not directly regretting it, it was time to call off the weirdness in our relationship and continue being the supportive duo we were, wiser with the experiences we’d earned. Besides – dating might even be good for me, I’d meet someone who wasn’t a carbon copy of my own self or someone obsessed with work.
I never thought she’d be much of a home-maker, but my sister kept showing me sides of her I hadn’t previously seen. Somehow, she’d learned how to clean my blazer, shirts and pants with professional proficiency, but I have to admit, I found her cheeriness as she prepared me for this date with the mystery-person somewhat heartbreaking. I understood, of course, that some distance by the use of this third person was the wisest choice, but I couldn’t help but feel as if she was trying to get rid of me – understandable, however hurtful.
My heart further sank as she revealed that she had plans of her own for the evening – plans that involved her getting dressed up in the same, black dress from the other night. I should’ve been glad that we were apparently adjusting to a life of normalcy, yet… I wasn’t. As we drove back towards the city, I felt that creeping hollowness return – that inhumane apathy that came with the burnout. In the darkness of the car, I took a semblance of comfort in the purr of the engine as we sat in comfortable silence and watched the traffic.
Leave a Reply