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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2004 16:34:41 -0500
From: "Bernard Sagon" <bernard-sagon@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Amanda, My Sibling - 12 of 15  - Chap. 8 (no sex)
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Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 06:10:01 -0400
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AMANDA, MY SIBLING Chapter 8 (no sex).
By Bernard Sagon
Copyright (c) 2004 - all rights reserved.

================================================================
This is Chapter 8 of the sequel to my earlier story
"Sis On Tape".  As always, any comments and criticism
from those readers interested enough to write will be
greatly appreciated.  Please send any comments to the
newsgroup or directly to bernard_sagon@hotmail.com -
I will attempt to answer all E-mail within a reasonable
time frame.  Comments posted to the newsgroups
alt.sex.stories or alt.sex.stories.d will be answered
within the newsgroup they are posted to.
================================================================
If you are unfamiliar with "Sis On Tape", the prequel to
this story, I highly recommend that you read it first.
Although "Amanda, My Sibling" has been written to stand on
its own merits (such as they are), this story and its
characters will be more understandable if you are familiar
with the earlier work.  I am reposting that story to the
newsgroups for your convenience.
================================================================
Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction and
contains sexually explicit adult material.  If you are not
an adult, do not wish to view such material, or if such
material is prohibited in your locality, you should exit
at this time.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
================================================================
This is a copyrighted work of fiction and the author
retains all rights to this story.  This story may be
freely copied and/or distributed for non-commercial use
or by archival services with this notice and any
applicable headers and footers attached, as required by
law.  This story may not be reproduced in any form for
profit without the express written permission of the
author.
================================================================
This story consists of a prologue, nine chapters, and an
epilogue.
================================================================


Chapter 8:

You could feel the hush falling over the congregation
seated beneath the stained glass windows.  The moment
that everyone had waited for finally arrived.

"Do you, Amanda Elaine Carson, take this man to be your
lawfully wedded husband - to have and to hold, for richer
or poorer, in sickness or in health, to honor and obey,
until death do you part?"

"I do," she replied, giving the vow, the faintest note of
a tremor in her voice.

Amanda and Paul had written their own vows, and had
decided to go with the feeling and most of the actual
wording of the classic wedding vows.  In particular, she
had chosen to retain the "honor and obey" portion in her
vow.  It might be old fashioned, and it certainly wasn't
politically correct, but as she told Mom when they
discussed it, if you love someone, and believe that they
love you in return, then you trust that person.

The pastor now turned to the male half of the wedding
couple.

"Do you, Paul David Cartwright, take this woman to be
your lawfully wedded wife - to have and to hold, for
richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to honor and
keep, until death do you part?"

"I do," he replied, speaking directly to Amanda, not to
the pastor who had asked the question.

The pastor didn't seem to mind.  He continued on, saying
"Then by the power vested in me, before God and man, I do
hereby declare you to be husband and wife."  He then
concluded, "You may kiss the bride."

Paul lifted the veil from the face of his now-wife,
folding it back over her head and, leaning into her, he
kissed her.  A renewed flurry of flashes exploded all
around me, capturing the moment on film for posterity.

It was quite a chaste kiss on the part of both of them.
They were, after at, standing in front of a pastor inside
of a church.  Still, the signs of the passion they felt
for each other were there if you knew what to look for.
His mouth was just a bit more open upon hers than was
actually appropriate.  She leaned into him a little too
much, her breasts pressing into his chest just a tad too
firmly.  The kiss lasted several seconds longer than
Miss Manners might have approved of before the happy
couple broke.  The signs had been subtle enough that no
one had been disturbed by them, not even the pastor.
But the signs had been noted with approval by the more
observant of the congregation.

Now that the kiss was complete, the organist began playing
the recessional music.  Everyone rose, and then Paul and
Amanda, arm in arm, exited down the aisle, followed by
the rest of the wedding party.

The immediate members of the bride's and groom's families
exited next.  As I was part of this group, I soon found
myself outside the church in the receiving line, waiting
to be greeted by the bride and groom.  In short order
I was offering Paul my sincere congratulations, and
receiving a "thank you" and a firm handshake in return.
 From the bride I received a very sisterly kiss - not at
all like the frantic ones we had shared previously as
lovers.  It was so innocent I'm sure Miss Manners would
have approved wholeheartedly.  I moved on, letting the
next person in line offer their greetings.

I ended up watching from the sidelines as the rest of the
line wound its way past the happy couple.  I certainly
didn't envy my sister and her husband throughout this
ordeal, but they carried on stoically until the line was
gone.  This was the cue for the limousine to arrive and
whisk them away to the reception hall.  The limo was an
especially nice one - not the usual Lincoln or Caddy.
Instead, Amanda and Paul got to travel in a white
Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud with gold trim.  I was impressed,
even though I knew it hadn't cost my dad that much more
than a more conventional limo.  Still, there is just
something classy about a Rolls.

Two additional limos - one for the bride's party, and one
for the groom's - then gathered up the rest of the wedding
party.  A forth limo, occupied by the parents of the newly
wedded couple, completed the ensemble.  That left the
other fifty-plus of the invited guests who like myself
didn't rate a limo to gather up their cars and head over
to Sander's Hall, a large multi-use facility that belonged
to the local Elks Lodge and which had one major advantage
over the admittedly more convenient hall adjacent to the
church - it was not adverse to allowing drinking on the
premises and even had it's own bar.

By the time I managed to reach the hall, park my shitbox
Ford Escort, and lock up, the wedding party was already
inside, as was evidenced by the row of empty limos in the
reserved parking area.  I presented my engraved invitation
and was allowed past the staff and into the banquet hall.

Inside, my eyes were greeted with rows on either side of
the hall of mostly still-empty tables covered with
spotless white tablecloths.  The wedding party and parents
of the bride and groom were seated at the head table.
The large dance floor in front of the head table was
empty, even though the excellent six-piece band was
already playing.  Behind the head table a pair of tables
was stationed to one side, a mountain of gifts covering
them and the floor immediately in front of them.  On the
other side, a table with casters held the wedding cake -
a multi-tier creation that must have stool almost three
feet high.  A sterling silver cutter and cake server
rested on the table in front of the cake.  The cake was
presently located discretely out of the way.  Its moment
would arrive later.

I found my seat with no trouble.  As the closest relation
to the bride that didn't rate a seat at the head table,
I was seated on the bride's side at the end of the first
table down, almost directly opposite my parents' location
at the head table and next to my Aunt Mary and Uncle
George's seats.

All in all, the reception was nowhere near as awful as
such things usually tend to be.  The caterer was a friend
of my mother and had taken personal charge of the
arraignments, ensuring that everything would go smoothly.
The salad wasn't wilted and the soup was good.  I passed
on the poultry entree, going instead with the other
choice - some kind of beef in wine sauce.  It was pretty
good, if a bit too French for my taste.  I managed to eat
my fill, as did the rest of the guests.

Finally, as if a signal had been given, members of the
staff cleared the plates from the table, while others,
carrying trays of stemware filled with bubbling liquid,
stationed the libations for the traditional toast at each
diner's location.  The liquid in my glass looked identical
to that in the glass of my Aunt Mary seated beside me.
It wasn't.  As I had discovered earlier when wine had been
distributed with the meal, the place cards at each setting
were coded by border color.  Not wishing to risk their
liquor license, the staff had strictly enforced the
prohibition against alcohol in the case of minors like
myself.  Thus, I had to make do with what turned out to
be Sprite when the best man got up and toasted the bride
and groom.  Bummer.  I couldn't even drink.

Things then continued to drag on at a snail's pace.
Amanda cut the cake.  Everyone got a piece and felt
obliged to eat it.  The wedding gifts were opened, Amanda
holding each one up as the giver's name was announced,
then opening it and dutifully displaying it for all to
see.

The band renewed their playing.  The lights dimmed and
Paul and my sister had the first dance alone, a spotlight
following their movements as they glided across the
floor.  It was a nice touch.  Amanda was beaming as
she clung to her new husband.

The song ended.  The spotlight faded.  The bride and groom
separated, Amanda going over to Dad and leading him onto
the dance floor with her.  Paul did the same with his
mother, a dignified looking woman with occasional strands
of gray accenting her almost black hair.  The music
started and the couples, parent and child, danced.
The process was repeated, this time with Amanda dancing
with Paul's father while Paul danced with Mom.

Lastly, the best man danced with the bride, while the
groom danced with the maid-of-honor and both sets of
parents joined them, four sets of couples moving across
the otherwise empty floor.  The whole thing had been so
cliché, but I still had to smile.  It had also been lovely
to watch, though I doubt if I would have ever admitted to
anyone that I had been moved by anything so corny.

The four couples retired from the dance floor, which
started to fill with other couples now that the show was
over.  I got up from my seat and headed for the head
table.  I would have to dance with Amanda - it was
expected.  But my sister was not who I was headed for.
She had just gotten back to her seat and deserved a break.
Instead, I approached the girl next to her, Cindy
Hartwell, Amanda's maid-of-honor, and asked her to
dance.

Despite the fact that she had also just returned to her
seat, she graciously accepted my invitation.  The music
having already restarted, we joined the other couples on
the dance floor.

We had been favored with a slow number.  Cindy proved to
be a very good dancer, blessed with a natural feel for
the rhythm and following my lead easily, which was
something that my sister, who had taught me how to
dance, had never managed to master.

We discussed the events of the day with each other as we
danced.  Being not only Amanda's maid-of-honor, but also
her best friend, Cindy was a familiar face in the Carson
household.  I had gotten to know her somewhat in the
months since she and my sister had started spending time
together.  She was a very nice person, and smart as a
whip, with a dry sense of humor.  Moreover, now that
Amanda and her friends had made her over to accent her
physical assets, she was also something of a looker.
I hadn't paid that much attention to her when Amanda and
I were still boffing each other every chance we got, but
now that my sister and I had ended that aspect or our
relationship and I had been left practically celibate
over the last six months, Cindy (although three years
older than me) had suddenly become a lot more intriguing.

It felt good holding her close as we swayed to the music,
feeling her small firm breasts press against my chest.
Although there was no overt sexuality on her part, I was
surprised to find myself responding to her - to the
subtle scent of floral soap and shampoo rising from her
hair - to the heady bouquet of the perfume that she wore -
to the softness and warmth of her body where it made
contact with mine.  I could feel myself starting to get
hard, despite my wishing not to.  I willed my penis to
behave itself.  This wasn't the way I wanted my sister's
best girlfriend to think of me.

It didn't work.  I had been without serious girlfriends
for the entire time my sister and I had been engaged in
our affair, and I had yet to find anyone now that we
weren't doing it anymore.  It had been too long since
I had had any release other than from my own five best
friends.  My erection continued to grow.  Cindy HAD to
be able to feel it - she just HAD to.

If she did, she did nothing to acknowledge my response
to her presence.  In fact, she continued to press against
me a bit more than I felt was strictly proper.  It was
almost like she wanted to tease me - to prove to both of
us she was truly a woman and capable of turning me on.

The dance ended, leaving me feeling a bit dazed and
confused.  Cindy still acted like nothing had happened
between us as I accompanied her back to her seat next to
my sister.   She was the same soft-spoken, quiet,
slightly shy girl I was familiar with.  But my sister
gave both of us a questioning look as I held out Cindy's
chair while she seated herself.  And I don't suppose that
the stupid grin I had on my face helped matters any.

I returned to my seat.  Being underage, I didn't even have
the option of having a few stiff drinks.  Instead, I spent
the next half hour trying to assess what had happened out
there on the dance floor.  It didn't help matters any that
I would find myself looking at Cindy and speculating about
what the body under her dress might look like naked.
It was not an unpleasant thought.

I still had to dance with my sister.  As I said, it was
expected.  Of course, Amanda had spent most of her time
either talking to Paul or dancing with the various male
guests, but my sister and her maid-of-honor had spent
part the time since Cindy and I had danced talking to
each other and laughing.  I might have been mistaken, but
I could have sworn that they had glanced my way several
times while they talked.

I knew that things were not likely to get any easier and
decided that I might as well get it over with.  Circling
the edge of the dancers, I found myself standing in front
of Amanda.  I asked her to dance with me.

"I don't know, Kenneth," my sister replied teasingly.
"I might want to walk out of here under my own power come
the end of the day."

I smiled at her witticism.  "Don't worry, Sis.  I'm not
planning to cripple you on your wedding day."

"Are you sure?" she continued.  "I've danced with you
before.  You're not exactly competition for Fred Astaire."

"You can ask Cindy there, if you want to.  I managed to
return her in a reasonably intact condition."

Cindy and my sister exchanged sly smiles before my sister
continued, "Well, she does seem to have survived.
I guess I'll be alright for one dance."

Getting up, she moved to me, sliding her arm into mine
and letting me lead her to an open area of the floor.
We began to dance.

Glancing around to ensure that the other dancers were far
enough away not to overhear us, my sister whispered in my
ear, "I see that you're still hitting on my
maid-of-honor."

"I beg your pardon?" I answered, shocked.

"You heard me."

"You're kidding!  You know I don't think of Cindy that
way."

"Oh?  That's not what she said."

"It isn't?" I said, my voice squeaking a bit.

"No.  In fact," my sister continued, giving me a steely
stare, "what she told me was that she FELT that you had
been real happy to dance with her."

I gaped at her, open-mouthed, feeling my face turning
red.  Cindy HAD noticed!  And she had told Amanda.
I felt like dying.  It was only reflex action that
kept me moving to the music.

Amanda continued to stare at me with daggers in her eyes,
but then the facade began to crack around the edges.
She couldn't hold the angry look.  Hiding her face into
my shoulder, my sister began to giggle.  I suddenly
realized that I'D BEEN HAD!

"Damn, Amanda!" I whispered intensely into her ear.  "That
wasn't very nice!"

That just made her giggle even more.  I glanced around
nervously.  No one seemed to be noticing us, or if they
did they were thinking that Amanda was just laughing at a
joke or something.  And she was.  Only the joke was me.

My sister finally got the giggles under control.  "Sorry,
Kenneth.  I just couldn't help it.  Not after what Cindy
told me."

"And what did she tell you?" I inquired, still red-faced.

Amanda smiled slyly.  "Just that you had responded to her
in exactly the way a healthy twenty-year-old male is
supposed to."

"I tried not to," I whispered to her.  "I really did.
It's just that it has been a while and she felt so nice
rubbing against me and... well, you know."

"Oh, I know," my sister concurred.  "Don't worry about
it - she wasn't offended.  In fact, she was rather proud
of herself."

"She was?" I replied.

"That she was," my sister affirmed.  She continued, "This
was your fault, you know."

"My fault?" I stammered.  "How could it possibly be MY
fault?"

Now it was Amanda's turn to blush.  "Because I told her
what you had said about her.  About how you insisted
that you didn't think of her in THAT way."

"You told her that?" I squeaked.

"I don't think she appreciated it a whole lot.  She
doesn't know you like I do yet.  I don't think she
realized that it was a compliment - that you meant that
you liked her as a person and not just as a possible
conquest.  I think she took it as a challenge to her
femininity."

"You weren't supposed to tell her what I said,"
I protested.

"Sorry, but she IS my best friend, Ken.  Other than
you-know-what we don't have very many secrets from each
other, and I didn't think you'd really mind.  And like
I said, she wasn't offended.  In her own way, I think
she threw herself at you to see if you would respond."

That assertion got my defenses up.  "I don't think I
agree with you, Sis.  She hardly threw herself at me."

Amanda's whispering to me became even lower - even softer
and more conspiratorial.  "Trust me on this.  I know her
a lot better than you do.  You have to remember who
you're dealing with here.  Cindy is a shy girl who isn't
comfortable with her sexuality yet.  What did you think
she should do - drop down to her knees and give you a
blowjob in front of everybody?  That's not how a shy girl
behaves."

I thought over what my sister was saying.  Cindy had been
dancing awfully close - closer than I would have expected.
And she HAD shown that teasing attitude toward me.  And
of course, I now knew that she had been TOTALLY aware of
my boner pressing into her.

"You might be right, Sis.  There were a few subtle things
going on.  She might have been doing them on purpose."

"Subtle?  Yes, that would be Cindy," Amanda agreed.  Then
she sighed, "I don't know what it is about you, Ken.
You bring out the devil in people - at least in
female people.  Cindy's never thrown herself - even
subtly - at any other guy before.  At least not that
I know of, and I think she would have told me if she had.
She tells me practically everything.  You just better
remember what I told you when I found out Cindy and you
had gone out together and were planning to do so again.
I don't want to see her get hurt."

****************************************************************

I had no problem remembering what my sister had told me.
That conversation had come from so far out of left field
that I could remember every detail of it.  I would
probably still be able to remember it verbatim twenty
years from now.

It had been during the final hectic countdown toward this
day - Amanda's wedding day - that my sister had managed
to corner me out of earshot of our parents and had
confronted me sternly.

"Are you trying to hit on my best friend, Little Brother?"
she interrogated.

"Am I what!?!" I had answered, horrified.

"I'm asking you if you're hitting on Cindy.  She told me
that the two of you had gone out with each other and that
you had asked her out again.  You're not planning to try
anything with her that I might not approve of, are you?"

"Jesus, Amanda," I continued, my head spinning, "I am
NOT trying to hit on Cindy.  She's YOUR best friend, not
mine.  And we haven't exactly started dating either.
I wouldn't have gone out with her at all if it hadn't
been for your pushing."

"My pushing?" she sputtered.  It was her turn to be
stunned.

"Yes, your pushing.  You were the one who volunteered my
services to Cindy when her car was in the shop and she
needed to do some shopping.  I don't exactly call
performing chauffeur duties my idea of a hot date."

"But Cindy told me you had gone out together...," my
sister protested.

Well," I admitted, "I guess you could call it that.
Cindy had a bunch of shopping to do and we were at the
mall long enough that we ended up having lunch together.
Then there was a movie that I wanted to see and you know
how I hate watching movies alone, so I asked her if she
wanted to see it with me and she said yes.  That's all
that happened, Sis.  No plotting - no planning.  Just one
of those impulse things."

"And you asked Cindy?"

"I was WITH Cindy," I replied, exasperated.  "Who else
was I going to ask?"

I could see my sister pondering the information I had
given her.  She seemed reassured by my explanation, but
wasn't ready to accept the entire package quite yet.

"Cindy said you asked her out again."

I had to think about that statement before I answered.
"Well, I did enjoy the movie with her.  She really is a
very nice person to be around.  So yeah, maybe I did tell
her that we ought to try seeing another movie together
sometime.  But that was all, Sis.  I wasn't ever thinking
of trying anything with Cindy.  I've never thought of her
in that way."

"Are you sure?" Amanda demanded.

"Absolutely certain.  You were always the one I thought
of when my imagination took off in that direction."

My sister blushed, smiling coyly at my declaration.
"But," she protested rather feebly, "we aren't like that
any more."

"No, I guess we aren't."

"And Cindy will still be there after I'm married and gone."

"Now, Sis..." I began to protest, but Amanda cut me off.

"No, let me talk, Kenneth.  I want to say this."  She
locked her eyes with mine.  "I don't mind if you go out
with Cindy.  I really don't.  I know what a nice person
she is.  She would probably be very good for you.  And
I know after all that we've been through together that
you could be good for her.  But..., well... "

"Yes?" I prompted.

"If you do go out with her," my sister admonished,
"I want you to make sure she doesn't get hurt in the
process."

This hadn't been quite the declaration I had expected from
my sister.  "I would never try to hurt one of your
friends," I retorted.  "You know that."

"I KNOW that, but that's just the point, Little Brother.
You could hurt her without even trying."  Amanda paused,
as if building up her courage for a difficult and
unpleasant task.  "If I tell you something, can you hold
it in confidence and never tell anyone - especially
Cindy - that I've ever told you?"

"I promise," I said, agreeing to her request.

"O.K., then," my sister continued, "Cindy had a crush on
one of our classmates during our sophomore year of high
school.  You don't have to know who it was.  All you have
to know is that her feelings weren't reciprocated.
The guy did go out with her, but all he really wanted
was to get into her panties."

"Oh.  And did he?" I inquired, fearing that Cindy's
history might parallel my sister's.

"No," my sister answered.  "The guy was enough of a
gentleman not to force the issue, and Cindy's standards
were such that she wasn't about to give it up to a man
who didn't love her."

"That's good," I responded.

"Well, It's better than the experience I had, but it still
left Cindy leery.  She hasn't had a real boyfriend since
then.  Once bitten, twice shy, I guess."

"So, no sex for Cindy, right?"

"That's my guess.  I'm pretty sure she's still a virgin."

"And you want to make sure that I leave her that way,"
I concluded, filling in the blanks in my sister's little
narrative.

My sister smiled wryly.  "It's not quite that simple.
Cindy is a product of her background.  That's left her
wary about sex.  But she is also a produce of our times.
That means she is almost EXPECTED to be sexually active.
Cindy is the same age as me - 22 years old.  There aren't
very many 22 year old virgins around these days."

I pondered what my sister was trying to say.  "O.K.,
I can see what you're saying.  I'm just not too sure what
point you are trying to make."

"The point is that for Cindy sex and love are the same
thing.  She's ready to give up her virginity, but only to
a man that she loves and who she thinks loves her.  And
I'm sure you can see the potential problems that could
occur - the potential hurt that Cindy could face."

"And that is?" I asked, although I had a pretty good
inkling of what my sister was about to answer.

"For Cindy, sex and love are joined.  If a man wants to
get into her panties, he has to tell her that he loves
her.  And if he lies..."

"Then Cindy will get hurt."  I said, completing her
thought.

"Yes, she will.  Cindy may be my age, but she's really
still an innocent.  And I think she's a lot frailer than
me.  I don't know how she'd react to what would be such a
profound betrayal to her, but I am certain it would be
bad.  That's why I'm warning you about how you should
treat her."

"But...," I started to protest.

"No, listen to what I'm saying," Amanda continued, cutting
me off.  "I know you only too well, Kenneth.  You may be
sleeping alone at the moment, but that's hardly voluntary.
You enjoy sex too much to go without a girlfriend for very
long.  Now I may be being overly cautious.  You'll
probably find some nice coed at that college you're going
to and start doing her, but just in case you are EVER
tempted to hit on my best friend, I want you to know what
you're getting into."

"I told you I don't think of Cindy that way."

"And I believe you, Ken, but weird things happen
sometimes.  So if you ever do start thinking of her that
way - if you ever DO want to sleep with her and feel you
should tell her that you love her, you better be telling
her the truth.  I'll be on you like a ton of bricks if
I ever think you're treating her wrong."

"Jesus, Sis.  I'm not out to sleep with your girlfriend,"
I insisted.  "I just don't see myself and Cindy together.
I'm not ready to let myself get tied down like that."

This last statement seemed to mollify my sister a bit.
"Well, I'm just trying to cover all the bases," she
explained.

I made her an offer to get her off my case.  "If you'd
prefer, I won't go out with her again."

"You don't have to do that.  I just wanted to let you
know you need to be careful with Cindy."

"Don't worry, I insisted.  "There's nothing to be careful
about.  Nothing is going to happen between us."

****************************************************************

That conversation with my sister had been bizarre enough
that even now I could hardly believe it had taken place.
The very thought that I might want to sleep with Cindy,
of all people, was downright ludicrous.  No matter how
hard I tried to imagine it, I just couldn't picture her
sleeping with me - that would just be too weird, what
with her being Amanda's best friend.

The music ended and I escorted my sister back to the head
table.  I snuck a glance at Cindy out of the corner of my
eye as I held my sister's chair out for her to sit down.
I had to admit she WAS kind of cute.  Certainly worth a
movie or two.  But my sister was way off base about her
underlying thought.  There was no chance Cindy and I were
ever going to be lovers.  I was certain of that.

Eventually the festivities wound down.  The bridal bouquet
was tossed and was caught by a cousin of the groom.  Then
the bride's garter was to be tossed, and as I was a single
male, I was forced to participate.  I made no effort to
catch it, even though it nearly bounced off my head when
it was tossed.  I had no intention of jinxing my bachelor
status, but then, lacking a girlfriend, there was little
chance of that happening anytime soon.

****************************************************************

End of Chapter 8 of "Amanda, My Sibling"

bernard_sagon@hotmail.com

Additional Bernard Sagon stories can be found at
storiesonline.net or the alt.sex.stories text
repository at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/

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