You haven't had her in so long. You were warned the last time they caught you that they would disown you if it happened again, and you believe them. Two more years. Just two more years. You'll have your trust fund then. The world will open up. You'll leave them, and take her with you. She'll be your sister, your lover, your wife, your world. You never need ask for anything from them again. But until then, she isn't yours. The Saturday ritual was her idea. You would never have suggested anything like that yourself. Not that you didn't think of it for your own amusement, but you would never have put it to her that she should seek out other men. After all, she may be your lover, but she's also your sister. There isn't a man alive good enough to touch her. But she was the one who came up with the idea. She put it to you the morning after the last time. She was pale and gaunt, and she'd been crying. You both had. You braved your parents' stony stares and went out onto the back porch with her. You sat apart. "It's not worth it," she said. "You'll lose everything. I'm not worth that." "You're worth every penny of it," you said rashly. "I don't care about the money." She smiled weakly. "I know you don't, Ryan, but you will. You should. You don't know how hard it is to be poor. But I see how some of my friends struggle. It's harder than you think." She bowed her head, and the tears began to fall. "I don't want that for you." You wanted to put your arms around her and hold on tight, but you knew they were watching. You hated them for that. You hated them because you couldn't help her. Because you had to sit there watching her cry. You felt like shit. "I don't care about the money," you said again. That wasn't exactly true - you cared very much. But still, you cared about her more. And if you had to start with nothing, well, that would make you no different to about ninety percent of the kids in the world. "We can't do this anymore," she insisted. "Not until you get your money." "But that's two years!" you burst out. "I can't go without you for two years!" "Yes, you can. You have to. Because I'm not letting you until you've got it." You stared at her, and she went on, "I'll do anything after that, Ryan. We'll go away. But I won't let you throw your birthright away for me. I just won't." You felt panic rising in your chest. "Reese, come on. That's drastic. This will blow over. We'll be all right, as long as we're careful." She shook her head. "No, Ryan. Dad's in the security biz, have you forgotten that? I bet you any money he'll put cameras in the house. He doesn't trust us. And they're not going to let us go anywhere together without a chaperone." She'd been right about the cameras - changing the light bulb in your bedroom a few weeks later, you found a pinhole camera hidden in the light fixture. Dear old Dad apparently took the deflowering of his only daughter very, very seriously. "So what are we going to do?" "We need to see other people. We need to be seen with other people. So word gets back to Dad." "No." You felt very cold. "Yes. We have to, Ryan. We have to throw him off the scent." "I don't want you going out with some guy, Reese. Not even for show. What if you get to like him better than me?" She burst out laughing, and that made you mad. "What's so funny?" "You," she said, wiping her eyes. "You're funny." It was good to see her smile, and you smiled too, in spite of yourself. "We wouldn't have to go out with them, Ryan. I'm not saying we should start dating anyone else. I'm talking about one night stands. Very public one night stands." "And what will that achieve?" "For one thing, they'll let up a bit. They might start letting us go out together again if they think we're both getting our kicks somewhere else. And then we might be able to get time alone again." You nodded. It made sense. So that was how it began. You started going out on Saturday nights with the local trend-setters. You got into the trendiest bars, and on a slow news week, you might be mentioned in the social column. You made a point of being seen draped over one girl or another, and she did the same with the guys. Your group became known as the Barely Legal Brat Pack. As a PR exercise, it worked out well. And sure enough, your parents eventually let up. They still watch you during the week, but they've stopped hassling you about Saturday nights. As long as you appear in the social pages with other people now and then, they're happy. And you're just well-known enough now that they know you daren't lay a hand on each other in public. You didn't mean to fuck anyone else, just the same. You really didn't. It was all meant to be for show. But then there had come a night when you wound up necking with a leggy blonde, and Reese was standing with some guy just a few feet away. The blonde nibbled your ear. You held Reese's gaze. She watched. Her lips were parted. Her eyes gleamed. You wanted to touch her so badly. You lowered your mouth to the blonde's shoulder and sucked. Still holding Reese with your eyes. You slipped your hand beneath the strap of the blonde's little top and caressed her shoulderblade. Willing Reese to understand that your touch was for her. Reese's face gave no hint of her thoughts, but you saw her hand tighten on the arm of the man she was with. She clutched at him, drew his hand to her breast, still watching you with that inscrutable gaze. You fucked together against a wall in an alleyway that night. It wasn't quite as satisfying as what you used to do together, but it was hot as hell. It was bonding, in its own way. And since then, it's been your Saturday ritual. You know what's in her heart. That when she takes the stranger inside her, it's you she bequeaths with her love. You know this. But it hurts you just the same, even while it drives you wild. Two more years, you think. Just two more years. "Are we really going to see that girl again?" she wonders. You look up. Blink a little. Suddenly aware of your surroundings. The cab. You're almost home. "Do you want to?" you ask her. "I like her," she says. But that doesn't really answer the question. "I do, too," you say. Then, after a pause, "It's risky." "Yeah. Do you think she knew who we were?" You shrug. You honestly don't know. Your parents read the social pages, but in the real world, most people don't. And you're small potatoes in the jetset anyway. Just another couple of yuppie kids, heirs to a modest upper-middle class fortune. You're not in the league of the Murdochs or the McMahons. You're only there because you happen to be young and attractive and went to school with the right people. "She liked us," she says. "She liked how we were." You nod again. It *was* nice. For once, you felt...valid. "Ryan?" "Yes, Marisa?" "Let's go to the marina. I want to look at the boats." You turn to look at her. "Do you think that's a good idea?" "Jolie Martin was at the bar. She was watching you and the girl. I heard her ask the barman who she was. I think she's going to put it in her column. So you've got a cover story for the night." You think about it. "As long as we get separate cabs home, then." She nods. Leans forward to the driver. "Brooklyn, please." Obediently, he changes lanes and heads for the freeway. You take her hand. When you arrive, you tip the driver and watch him drive away. Then you walk around the side of the darkened marina and out onto the waterfront. You stop outside the boat rental shop. Lean against the railing. You breathe deeply. The air is fresh and clean. "I like that one," she says, pointing to a blue and white yacht a little way down the pier. "Let's go aboard." "Aboard?" you say. "We can't-" There's a key dangling from her fingers. Warmth washes over you. How you love seeing her like this. Mischievous. Cat-like. Taking you by the collar and leading you just where she wants you to go. She owns you. Totally. And you wouldn't have it any other way. "What did you do?" you wonder, catching her around the waist, splaying your palms over her back. "Huh? What did you do, you scheming little-" She cuts you off with a kiss. "Flattery will get you everywhere." God, that soft, wet mouth. "Oh, Jesus," you sigh, pressing her closer. "It's been too long." "Mmm," she nods. She twines her arms around your shoulders. Runs long, slender fingertips through your hair. You run your hands over her back and down to her ass. It occurs to you that it's only been an hour since the bar - that maybe she'll need to build you up - but no, you feel yourself growing hard straight off. All it takes is tasting that sweet hot mouth on yours. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you rasp out. No hearts and flowers tonight. You feel almost feral. Raw hunger. You don't want to make love to her. You want to consume her. You love her, fuck yeah - but it's been so long. She feels it too. You see it in her eyes. In the way she looks at you. Meditative. As though preparing for a deadly serious task. Her teeth are bared, and her breaths are shallow and fast. Rather like a predatory animal preparing to move in for the kill. "Long and slow?" you wonder. There's a hint of mischief in your tone. "Fuck that." You tug her hard against you. Lifting her up on her toes. "Hard and fast, then," you hiss, pressing your cock into her belly. "Yes," she hisses back. "Like that." You grind against her, and she gasps, "Fuck! Yes. Like that. Like that." "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" you wonder, running your hand up her thigh, beneath her skirt. Kneading at her ass. "No, but I kiss my brother. Good enough?" She writhes against you, shivering lightly. Her hands fumble with the buttons on your shirt. "The best," you manage before you close your mouth on hers. You feed on each other, demanding, devouring, until finally she drags her mouth away and lowers it to your throat. Sucking greedily. You latch your hand onto her breast through her top, squeezing and kneading. Tweaking one tight hard nipple between your fingers. Your other hand slips beneath her g-string, into the crease of her ass, and her thighs fall open, and you feel her teeth grazing your neck when she moans. Her hands are fumbling with your zip, and then she tugs your cock free. The cool air washes over you, and you groan, urging it up into her hands. She strokes your shaft with one hand. Gently squeezes your balls with the other. "Jesus, Reese. I'm not going to last long if you keep doing that," you force out between gritted teeth. "Maybe you ought to distract me, then," she says, and she pulls away, and hoists herself up onto the railing. She sits there, holding the pillar with one hand, drawing up her skirt with the other. Legs spread wide. "You'll fall in," you argue, but not very convincingly. Already moving closer. You can see the outline of her nipples, pressing against snug fabric in the moonlight. You can see the smooth metal railing pressing into the flesh of her thighs. You have no idea why that turns you on. What definitely turns you on is the knowledge that her ass is bobbing there in the air over the water. Just the thought of having her so accessible to you after so long - Okay, you're sold. You take the straps of her top in your hands, and work them down her shoulders. She holds you to steady herself while she gets her arms free, and then she holds the pillar again, composed once more. "You going to touch them, big brother, or do I have to do it myself?" You give her a withering look. "I'm pacing myself." You ease the clingy fabric down over her perfect breasts. You put your hands on them, cupping one in each palm. Feeling their weight. Squeezing them gently until her nipples come up in your hands. The breeze rises up and her hair trails out behind her over the water. You nip at her neck, white and sloping and exposed. She clutches at your hair with her free hand, whimpering with need. She squirms on the railing, and you can feel her thighs spread even wider. Her breaths speed up, her breasts rise and fall, and you just know you have to get your mouth around one of them, right now. You trail down kisses from her neck to where the flesh begins to swell. She lets go of your hair and grabs one of the eaves above her head, stretching out her body, tugging her nipple up to meet your mouth. You begin to suck, and she lets go of the pillar and hooks her arm around it instead, steadying herself. She is poised between two points. Extended. Exposed and beautiful. You love seeing her like this, you love feeling her move, so smooth and taut. You slide down her belly, down to your knees, down between her thighs. You take your time down there. You slide your hands along her thighs, easing your way up, as though you needed to part them, which you certainly don't. When you reach her sex, it's cupped with damp silk. It smells like sex. It smells like her. You trace down over the crease where her lips meet with your fingertips. You trace that crease back and forth, over and over until you've eased them open beneath her panties. You look up at her. She's staring down at you, biting her lip, her forehead creased with need. You hold her gaze while you tease her, just like you did while you were fucking that girl. That was good. This is incredible. "Love you, Reese," you murmur. "Same." You turn your attention back between her legs. You put your hands back on her thighs and lean in. Breathing her scent. Sweet and heavy, mingling with the clean sea air. It lingers in your nostrils, and its effect is near-hypnotic. You close your eyes and sink your mouth into softness and silk. "Ahhhh," she sighs, arching a little. You suck on her, hard - a little harder than you would without the panties. You taste her juices through the fabric, and that's too much for you - you need her skin to skin. You drag her panties to one side, and then you taste her once more. "God, Ryan, that's good," she gasps out when you run your tongue over her clit. You do it fast, then slow, then fast again. "Fuck, I missed that." Not as much as you did, though - you'd forgotten just how sweet she was down there. Other women taste good, but Reese - there's something different. Something primal. Like an animal recognising its own scent. Familiar. Comforting. Yours. The thought drives you to your feet. To kiss her, hard. You groan when she whimpers into your mouth and plunges her hand into your hair. She trails her lips all over yours, sweeps your mouth with her tongue, tasting herself on you. Devouring it. She gasps out your name, and her breaths come in hitching sighs. She reaches down for your cock, but you push her hand away. "Later," you tell her. "I've got to be inside you." She nods. Eyes wide. She puts her free arm around your shoulders, still holding onto the pillar with the other. You look down between you and take your cock in your trembling hand. You find her slit with the head, and you ease it into her. Just a little. Just to where the head meets the shaft. "Bastard," she whispers fondly. You grin at her. "You're all wet." "Very observant, big brother. That would be because your cock is in my cunt." Okay, so it's cheap. But men are simple, easily led, and you're no exception. You groan and push into her, right to the hilt. She gasps out a sigh and winds her legs around your waist. "Men," she sighs dramatically as you grind against her. "So predictable." "You wouldn't have it any other way." Fuck, she's soft. So fucking soft and warm in there. "No," she agrees reflectively. "I do love you, Ryan." Her voice is oddly serious. It's beautiful, hearing her say that when you're buried inside her. "Love you too." She kisses you. "Now shut up and fuck me." So you fuck her. She grabs onto the beam above her head again, meeting you stroke for stroke. She jerks back and forth on your cock, levering herself, and it's one of the sexiest things you've ever seen. "God, Ryan," she sighs, arching her back, baring her long white neck. "God! Oh, God!" "I missed you," you whisper, shoving it into her. Hard. Deep. Feeling her cunt closing around your cock with every stroke. "I want to feel you come, Reese," you say against her neck. "So beautiful when you come, Reese, baby. So fucking beautiful." She is, too. There's nothing better. She rocks back and forth with you. Her cries are very nearly sobs. "Fuck, that's good," she blurts out, high and needy. "Oh! Ryan. Shit. Yes. Like that. God." "I'm gonna come, Reese," you warn her. She nods. "I'm close," she whispers, and speeds up, just a little. Trying to catch up with you. She *is* close - you can see it in the way she clutches the pillar. You hold on, and then it's all over for her - her body spasms, and then you let go. You feel the blessed release, the explosion of your seed inside her, and she's still writhing on your cock, still crying and sighing and shivering with need. She drops her arms limply around your shoulders, and you hold her tight, burying your face in her hair, murmuring her name. "Shh, Reese, we're done, we're done." She's sobbing. Smiling and weeping at the same time. Letting off tension and grief after far too long apart. You just hold her. Understanding perfectly. "Sorry," she says ruefully when she wipes her eyes. Her body is still trembling. "S'okay," you say, and you kiss her. Tenderly. Slowly. You touch each other's lips when you break apart. "I don't know if I can walk," she laughs when you help her down. She holds onto you, but she stands steadily enough. Straightens her top and her panties while you watch. You zip your jeans, but leave the belt undone. Fuck it. "So, about this boat," you begin. She smiles at you. "Ours for the week." "I thought you were going to see Marina for the week-" you stop. "Marina. The marina. You little sneak." "Flattery will get you everywhere," she says again. Banter between siblings is apt to be repetitive. This is true even when the siblings are lovers as well. "I think maybe this week would be a good time to do that residential program for extra credit," you say. "My thoughts precisely." She takes your hand. "But you know, Ryan, we're going to have to be careful. No-one can see us. Why, I think we may have to stay holed up on the boat for the whole week." You smirk a little. "I sure hope we won't get bored." You squeeze her hand. She releases it, and raises her hand to your cheek. Strokes it with her fingertips. You kiss them. "We won't." She takes your hand once more, and leads you off down the pier. FIN
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