Smart Sister, Smitten Brother 1

by bluepervina - © 2002

( FM, inc )

This story is the first in a series about siblings who fuck.

 

Growing up just 14 months apart was so cool. We got the easy treatment, first of all, because we were the last two kids in the family, and our two older sisters had taken the brunt of the discipline from Mom and Dad for all those years. Plus, we could watch out for each other--so our parents thought--and that meant even less supervision.

You were so smart in school. All those A's and the Ivy League sending you letters. You always brought your books to the games back then, watching me catch (but mostly reading), then stopping to cheer for me when I'd come up to bat. I wasn't the brains of our duo, but you pushed me to make A's, too, so we could have a better chance of going to the same good college. Who knew I'd score so high on my SAT, too? You still beat me, but I remember the kiss you gave me that afternoon by the mailbox when we ripped open the envelopes. I remember the kiss and all that came after it.

Now, I can see what you wanted all along. Now, you can see it too. Back then you didn't understand those feelings. You just loved me. And neither of us knew enough about the bad in the world to hide. At least, not right away.

The sun was so hot. It was Saturday. We were at the end of the dirt drive, three hundred yards through the trees away from our house. The groves across the road from us stood rustling in the warm breaths of air that swept up the dust and coated everything with a fine silky layer of crud. It was one of the only times back then that I really loved living out in the country, living in the middle of the orange groves our parents owned, being away from any eyes.

You wore a white t-shirt, one of my old worn out Big Johnson shirts, so thin across your braless chest. Sweat was sticking the shirt to the tops of your perfect B-cups, and the nipples--I swear to this day I can count every single heartbeat that pounded through me in those moments that you stood reading our letters--so enthralled in the "news" about our future, not even aware that I was watching your nipples upthrust against that shirt as if they were the only nipples I could ever want to have. To taste. To twist.

Your bare feet were dirty from the walk out to the mailbox, but the nails were still painted that apricot color you liked so much. As you read through our scores your foot came up to scratch your shin, and I remember having an almost crippling urge to take you back to the house and wash your sweet long feet, rub them with some lotion, and just maybe put your toes in my mouth for a small time.

It was so sudden, that day, but it was the first day of my life that I ever thought of you as a girl I wanted to fuck. The shock hit me in waves that struck first at the root of my cock, then rattled my brain. In the minute it took you to read and reread our letters, I was transformed and in love. Of course, for the next four years I buried those feelings with massive amounts of sports, drugs, alcohol, and of course fucking a lot of girls who weren't you.

Nevertheless, the memory of that day remained, even if the feelings were dull or denied from time to time. It was always at least the dim beat behind my heart, the thing making it all go, making me go ever faster and farther into the twisted parts of myself, searching for every way I could to hide from the feelings that I was so sure you'd reject.

But that day you read the letters and gave a huge "Whoooo!" that scared me out of my passionate preoccupation. As I jumped back, you threw you arms around me and hugged me so tight, screaming, "We made it! We made it! National Merit!" And then you pulled back and looked at me with that huge smile on your face, and your smile changed. You softened. And I still held you, with your arms around my neck. I knew the test scores were a big deal, but you were thinking other thoughts, too.

Too quickly to think about it, we were kissing. Your tongue on mine, our mouths open and feasting, as wide and as fast as we could. Sucking face was never a better way to describe it than the way we kissed on that day. Your hands dropped the letters and clutched instead at my short hair. My hands were on your perfect baseball-sized titties, and your skin through the shirt was so hot.

(I knew you were a virgin. You studied way too much to date, even though you were pretty. The guys at school called you a bitch because you ignored them, and I thought it was more a funny thing than offensive. They just weren't in your league. Occasionally, being big and athletic, I had to impose myself physically to remind some of those guys that you were my sister, and they couldn't speak that way about you. Still, it was obvious to everybody that you just weren't the wild child type. Nevertheless, you became one by the time your freshman year at college was over, and by the time I joined you up there, I was well on my way, too.)

My virgin sister kissing me, eating on my mouth like she's starving for me, our bodies sweating against each other there in the dust of the lane with the late summer sun the only witness of our lust. My cock was hurting against my shorts, grinding into your belly. I humped against you without thinking, without knowing, until you began to grind back, sliding one foot between mine and hunching your vulva down against my rigid thigh. You wanted me with the same ferocity!

We slid to the dirt of the road, and I yanked up on your shirt. My mouth locked completely around your left breast. I sucked and slurped at you, and you moaned. I felt something under me as I attacked your tits, and I paused to look. You were masturbating. Your hand was snaked down into your cut-offs, and you were stroking hard up and down on your clit, like you were close to coming already. I'd only fantasized that girls masturbated, and there you were doing it! So unashamed, and so hungry for it! I went back to your fat nipples and chewed and sucked with all the skill I knew, and you came so hard, arching up against me.

The smell of the hot dirt of the road, the sweat rolling off our bodies, your musk as strong as any animal's. It was too much to ever forget.

And suddenly I didn't know what to do. Suddenly you were my sister again. Like a mosquito in the night, returning again and again just as you drift off into your happy dreams, suddenly the thought of you as a forbidden thing was buzzing loud in my brain. My cock, of course, only got harder.

I rolled off you and got to my feet, stepping quickly back. You still had a hand in your pants, languid, stroking your cunt more lovingly now. Your eyes were closed against the sun and against the death of that pleasure, and your voice was weak. I remember being surprised by that.

"Oh God, Billy. Come back."

Your t-shirt was pushed up around your neck, and your nipples were red and sloppy from my efforts. Your legs were spread out and flat on the ground, and your feet were clenched and curving in. With your long blonde hair thrashed out all around you, I had the distinct idea that you truly were some kind of girl-animal, a wild predatory thing that had suddenly possessed my sister and driven her to me. I was utterly freaked out.

"S-sorry," I stammered, and remember clutching at my raging hard-on through my moist pants. I stepped back more and more until I finally turned and ran back to the house, leaving you there on the ground, masturbating so slowly, the mail scattered everywhere.

And I remember your sweet voice, stronger finally, as it called after me. I never forgot it. "It's all right," you called. "It's all right, don't worry."

I got to the house and burst inside, rushing past Mom cooking dinner, ignoring her frumpy protests at my haste. My mouth was tingling, was throbbing from the pressure of your mouth. I could still feel it! Purple bruises could have been smashed across my mouth, and I wouldn't have been surprised. Up the steps, into our hallway bathroom, I stared into the mirror, but not at my own eyes. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. I knew I wanted you worse than I could ever control. My sister, the love of my life.

Hearing the door open to the kitchen and Mom's voice calling your name, I ran back down the steps and out the back door. I walked all the way to the end of the west grove and back, then through the south grove and back, and finally dusk came and thickened to night, and the mosquitoes drove me back in. Mom had called for me, and I had called back, "Not hungry!" and just kept walking.

But, as I came back into our house, you were gone. In an instant, my feelings of fear about seeing you vanished in an overwhelming nausea at the realization that I could not have you near me at that moment.

"She's driven into town, Billy," Dad said, still reading his paper at the dinner table. "Told me to tell you she'd bring you back a Coke or something, so—what did she say?" he looked up at Mom.

"Don't freak out," Mom said, blandly washing the dishes. "And you can heat up your dinner, if you still want it."

But I didn't, and went upstairs and showered. Under the water, I got hard instantly, and I stroked for under ten seconds before I came in gallons against the tiles of the shower. Drying off, then walking down the hall to my room, I was still hard. Stroking again, I came again, this time all over the bath towel.

Somehow embarrassed by this, too, even though it was probably the thousandth time that had happened, I walked naked back down the hall to the bathroom. Our dirty clothes hamper! Your panties! Just the thought of one small sniff of your old underwear sent my cock into yet another rage. By the time I opened the hamper, I was already stroking again.

Then I had your panties in my hand. Pale, oh-so-pastel pink, pure cotton, bikini cut. Hanes. Stained a little. Oh God!

Then you came in.

I didn't hear the door open downstairs. I didn't hear you talking to Mom and Dad. I'd only heard the buzzing of the blood in my head. But you walked into that half-open bathroom door, and I was naked. Your panties were against my face.

"Billy 3;" was all you managed to whisper. You closed the door behind you and smiled, a little melancholy thing. You were still in that thin Big Johnson t-shirt, still in those cutoffs, still barefoot. Really, you were pretty filthy. For a second I found myself surprised at the thought that you'd have even tried to go into a convenience store looking like that. But then, of course, I knew why you'd left.

"Oh, Billy," you whispered again, and suddenly we were kissing. Your hand flew to my cock, and you squeezed me so hard! For a good minute you primed me, I'm not sure if you knew what you were doing, but I still liked it. Your mouth on mine ranged farther and farther out—to my ears, to my neck, finally to my chest. As I nearly fell backwards into the sink, you began chewing and licking on my nipples, and your other hand began to lightly fondle my balls.

In another minute, I was going to lose it again. But I wanted more of you first!

Somehow I pushed you away long enough to pull off your shirt. As I sucked on your perfect little breasts, your hands sunk once again into your own cutoffs, into your own wet panties. Then, as if you'd lost patience, you shoved your pants and underwear down in one quick motion. Stepping out of them, you then stepped forward and thrust your knees around my thigh, grinding your sopping cunt against me. You were hairy down there, but I could tell it was wispy, light, probably as blonde as the hair on your head. I wanted to see it, but you had other ideas.

One of your hands went back to my cock, and this time you stroked it clumsily but properly. Your other hand was on your nipples, alternating one to the other, twisting hard. I was amazed, watching you grind on me and hurt yourself like that. I would have never dreamed of being so rough, but you loved it. Your eyes watered, then your moans began to scare me a little, and then I was sure we were going to get caught.

Before I could worry about it, though, you dragged me down onto the cold tile floor of that bathroom. Crouched above me, you remained poised above my straining cock for what seemed like hours. You still had it in one hand, stroking it much more lightly now. But you were waiting. Finally, you said my name. And, finally, I looked into your eyes.

That was what you wanted. As we locked onto each other's gaze, you sank slowly down onto my rigid dick. Slow minutes passed as you methodically impaled your virginity. Finally, you could sink no lower, but you took a deep breath and sat on me anyway. The "pop" was so loud that we both gasped, and you fell forward onto my chest, your entire body shaking from the pain.

And that was when Mom walked in.

"Billy, where's your—" was all she said. We were too shocked and enthralled to really get up with any speed, and it was as if we knew it didn't matter, as if we knew we were caught without excuse. Neither of us even tried to move. I simply held you against me and looked up at Mom. And she stared at us for many pounding heartbeats, and then she closed the door.

"Kids," came her trembling voice through the wood, "when you are finished, please come see me out on the porch. Your father will be in his office for awhile, so we can talk 3; about this."

Before she was even finished, you started mashing your hips against mine, grinding your cunt deeper onto my cock. The pain had eased, and you were fucking me. I picked up your sweet face from where it lay against my chest. I parted your hair. I kissed your lips. "I do love you," I whispered, and you nodded.

With rising intensity, you picked your ass up higher and higher off my crotch, driving yourself down with a ferocity that completely shocked me. You really did want me! You really did crave fucking me! I grabbed for your bobbing tits and squeezed as hard as I my courage would let me. You squealed, "Yes!" and I kept on squeezing, kneading them, finally twisting the nipples nearly as hard as you did to yourself. Your squeals rose and rose and rose, until finally, downstairs, we could hear the TV suddenly turn up louder than it had ever been run before in our house, and Mom yelling to the back of the house, "It's stuck, but don't worry! You stay back there honey, and I'll fix it!"

Bouncing on me, your nails digging into my chest as you stared back down between us as your pussy swallowing my cock over and over, you were in a trance. Your squeals turned to moans, then to grunts, as you watched your pussy fuck me over and over. I was ready to come, and I was sure I'd get you pregnant. Somehow, though, the thought of pushing you off of me was not even an option. I wanted you right there, driving down on my dick, until every last drop was out of me and deep in you. That was lovemaking. I was in love. And I came.

Growling a little, I bashed my hips up at you and filled you till you could feel it squirting inside. Running back out. We could both smell my jism as it leaked down and got splattered between our crotches. Your squeals returned, then, and your nails dug even farther into my chest as you hunkered over me and squatted and squatted and squatted faster and faster. And you came.

And, finally, Mom turned the TV off.

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Copyright 2002 by bluepervina.

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