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From: shy2naughty <xxx@dot.com>
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Subject: Erotic "Goodnight My Love" (F/m, cons. Bro/Sis inc.
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Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2004 07:40:45 +0000
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===================
Goodnight My Love
Part 1
The summer that I was fourteen my sister Sandra turned nineteen. She would
begin her freshman year at City College in the fall. I had been a big
surprise to my parents. When five-year-old Sandra had learned that she was
the proud new owner of a baby brother, she was most enthusiastic. To all
accounts, she played the role to the hilt. For years that's what she called
me, "Baby Brother." She said it and meant it with such obvious affection
that I never took it any other way. My whole life has been in one way or
another shaped by her attentions and genuine regard. I think Sandra and I
are as close as siblings ever get. I have never called her Sandy - Sis was
as close to a nickname as she would allow. At nineteen, Sandra was drop dead
in the street gorgeous and I was in awe of her. Her smile alone could make
grown men stupid and old men weep. Her piercing gaze can make anyone
stammer. I've seen her do it to Traffic Cops and Nuns. If she had wished it,
my father and I both would have been her willing bond slaves. I could not
have articulated it then but, my affection and adulation for her amounted to
a deep and abiding devotion. I worshiped at her feet. I still do. There is
nothing I would not do for her. In fact, the previous summer, at risk to
life and limb, I took on a young loud mouth stud her age that had impugned
her honor. I was so enraged that I beat him senseless. That, however, is
another story.
*
We had never been overly casual about nudity in our house. That is not to
say that we were prudish about it either. It was simply regarded as
natural - nothing to blush or snicker about. But it was never to be flaunted
or forced on anyone. Respect for person and personal privacy was highly
regarded. When Sandra turned thirteen, she was already a knock out. I was
very curious. I really wanted to get a look at her new breasts. I think she
knew this. They had seemed to blossom over night and I was fascinated by the
wonderful changes in her shape. I had teased her once about trying to hide
oranges in her blouse. She had stopped dead in her tracks. The look she gave
me could have turned me to stone. But, seeing how her ire had crushed me,
she relented. Sandra took both my small hands in hers and said,
"No, Kevin, not oranges, these are my breasts. They are nothing to
laugh or joke about."
She then placed my hands on them. I almost pissed my pants. She held me in
her arms and allowed me to briefly explore her new geography.
"Soft." was all I could manage.
One Saturday afternoon, not long after that, when our parents were out, she
came to my room and knocked on the door. When I opened it, Sandra was
standing there in a terry robe and her bare feet. She wore a very serious
expression. She stepped into my room and closed the door.
She turned to me and said, "Baby Brother, we need to talk."
I said, "Sure Sis, what about?"
I tried to sound nonchalant, but it was a ritual phrase and it always meant,
"Now hear this, this is no-shit, no faery tale, dead serious!" I thought I
was in for serious trouble until she smiled. She sat on my bed and patted
the place beside her to indicate that I should sit next to her. Sandra must
have given considerable thought to what she said. She launched into a brief,
if rambling, statement about how she loved me dearly and did not want there
to be any secrets between us but she was growing up now, becoming a woman
and would need her privacy. She knew that the changes in her body would
naturally arouse my curiosity. She did not want me sneaking around trying to
spy on her and turning into a pervert. I should no longer barge into her
room or the bathroom without knocking, if the door was closed. So, in the
interest of my education she had decided that I should have a one time "good
look." As bizarre as that may seem to some, it was her solution. I was only
eight, what did I know? Besides, I was being let in on the big secret. What
eight-year-old could turn that down?
With that, she stood up and opened her robe. She was wearing her birthday
undies. The birthday undies were a much talked about gift from our Aunt Pat.
They were gray silk lace, French cut bra and panties. Aunt Patty had sent
them to her from Paris. This detail made it seem a very formal occasion. She
said that she intended to show me everything, would answer my questions and
that within reason, I could touch her. She took off the robe and laid it
across my bed. All I could do was stare mutely. Then, just a little
nervously she opened her arms to me for a hug. I complied. I have always
loved her hugs. But her semi nudity introduced a new factor of sexual
tension. The feel of her bare skin was electric.
I said shyly, "Sandra, you are very, very beautiful."
This made her smile and blush a little.
She leaned back and said, "Unhook me."
I already had my arms around her so; I felt for the clasp on the back of her
bra but couldn't find it.
She giggled and said, "No, silly, it's in the front, between my
breasts."
I must have turned deep crimson.
She hugged me again and said, "Oh, Baby Brother, there's nothing to be
shy or embarrassed about."
With this reassurance, I carefully undid the clasp of her bra.
True to her word, she showed me everything and encouraged me to touch her,
which I did with awe, reverence and great pleasure. I believe that it was
equally pleasurable to her. It was neither clinical nor lascivious. It was a
more tender and loving experience than I am able to express. There was one
moment when I kissed her breasts that she sighed deeply and said,
"Oh Kevin, I love you so."
***
From that day on, Sandra grew more and more into the image of our mother and
her twin sister, Aunt Patty. One of the best pictures I ever took is of the
three of them as they stood facing the water at the deck rail of our boat.
Their heads are turned into the wind and their left hands are raised to
shade their eyes. They are wearing only their bikini bottoms. Except for the
fact that Sandra is half an inch shorter than Mom and Patty, you cannot tell
them apart. The black and white print is the best.
***
Our Aunt Patty was in the hospital and our parents had gone out of town to
be with her. Aunt Pat had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was
scheduled for surgery. The prognosis was not promising and Mom was
distraught. We did not expect them home until the following weekend, if all
went well. So, Sandra was the duty responsible adult until then. It was a
Friday evening in mid August, I had done my chores, so I was reading and
listening to music, Vivaldi, I think. Sandra was in her room upstairs
reading, or so I thought. I wanted to go out to Baskin Robin's for some "No
Sugar Added" ice cream (I have diabetes), so I went upstairs to see if
Sandra could be bribed into going to Rally's for dinner and then for ice
cream. When I reached her door, I heard her give a muffled, almost strangled
cry of what I thought was serious pain. I didn't wait to knock. I shoved her
door open, terrified at what I might find. She was lying naked on her bed
with one hand on her breasts and the other buried deep in her snatch. I was
stunned and my dick went instantly hard.
Flustered, I stammered, "Good God, Sis. are you. alright? I heard. You
sounded. in pain."
She lay there gasping and giggling, "My intrepid protector."
That stung!
Red faced, I said, "I. I'm sorry, Sandra," and closed the door.
I was very confused and embarrassed. To my surprise and chagrin I was also
extremely aroused. Sandra, on the other hand, was neither sorry nor
embarrassed. She called me back into her room. With some trepidation, I went
back. She had not covered herself and I could not help ogling her, but what
stopped me was the expression on her face. It was languid to the point of
being stuporous. To say the least, this aroused in me (no pun intended) a
deep concern that she might be slipping into insulin shock. Sandra and I
both have juvenile diabetes. We are both insulin dependent. A very large
part of our lives is devoted to self-monitoring and some gentle nagging of
each other to make sore we keep to our routines. I went right to her dresser
and opened her kit, intending to test her blood sugar.
"No, Baby Brother, I'm OK - I don't need that."
Undeterred, I loaded a fresh blade into her auto-lancet, ripped open an
alcohol swab and stuck a new test strip into her blood glucose meter. I
carried this stuff to her bedside. Setting the meter on her night table, I
asked,
"Then, just what the hell is wrong with you?"
I lifted her hand from her breast. I could not help but notice that her
nipples were erect and that she continued to stroke herself with her other
hand. My dick throbbed and I swallowed hard. This was not lost on Sandra as
I swabbed her index finger.
"It's Friday night, I have no date and he asks what's wrong," she
announced to the ceiling.
"Ouch!" I'd stuck her finger.
I collected the blood drop on the test strip and set the meter back on the
night table. Impulsively, I licked her finger, then swabbed it again with
alcohol and returned her hand to her left breast. With my hand resting on
top of hers, I said,
"But you never date. You're always telling me that the guys you know
are pin heads and cretins."
I stroked her hand with my fingers. She stared at the obvious bulge in my
khaki shorts. She was no longer smiling as she drew her hand from under mine
then placed my hand on her breast and pressed my trembling fingers into her
hot flesh. Then, looking directly into my eyes, she whispered,
"I'm horny and frustrated. Don't you ever get horny, Baby Brother?"
My brains scrambled at the feel of her under my hand. I dared not even let
my fingers twitch. I tried to keep eye contact but I couldn't, partly
because I found the circumstances so embarrassing. I also found them
disturbingly arousing and that was even more embarrassing. My throat had
gone Mojave dry. It took several tries to answer her. I finally croaked out,
"Yes, Sandra. I do get horny. I am horny right now and I'm very sorry
about that. But, I'm fourteen,
looking at linoleum makes me horny."
"Oops!"
Yeah, she actually said that. She released my hand and very reluctantly I
removed it from her acheingly lovely breast. Sandra coyly pulled a corner of
her sheet over one breast. My dick throbbed in response to this provocative
little act. I seriously thought that my zipper would loose the battle to
keep the little monster at bay. I thought that if this funny business
continued much longer, it could only end badly. The scent of her sweat and
her sex was very heady and I desperately wanted to help her stroke her
womanhood in tandem with her. I wanted to shower her breasts with my kisses.
The urge to touch her again was so strong that I had to close my eyes, step
back and shove my hands into my pockets. At that moment her meter beeped.
"Saved by the bell," I thought.
I took her meter back to the dresser. When I could get my hands to stop
shaking, I wrote the reading in her Logbook. It was 72 mg/l, a little low
but normal. It did not account for her bizarre behavior. So I turned to her
closet. Her old terry robe was hanging on a hook. I grabbed it then put it
back in favor of her black silk kimono with the scarlet trim. My thought was
that something pretty might make her feel better. I opened her undies drawer
and picked up the first pair of panties I saw. I covered her with the
kimono. The soft folds of black silk hugged her form. Her breasts and
nipples were clearly visible. I took her unoccupied hand, placed the panties
against her palm, and then I gently folded her fingers over them. On
impulse, I kissed her fingers and caressed her cheek. She sat up, holding
the robe more or less in place with the hand that had been busy between her
legs. She looked at the panties. Then the weirdest thing happened. Sandra
started laughing and crying at the same time. I was thoroughly spooked. The
hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. My traitor dick gave my
zipper another hard nudge.
She tried to say something but the tears and laughter garbled it. I thought
for a second that she was choking. She held out the panties for me to see
but I didn't get it. Sandra held them to her breasts and the laughter lost.
She sobbed uncontrollably. Now, I felt completely helpless. I put my arms
around her and just held her against me with shaking hands. I let her cry it
out with my stupid dick pocking her in the side. When she started to run
down, I handed her some tissues. She dabbed at her eyes then turned toward
me and stood up. I took the kimono and held it for her. Sandra turned and
shrugged into it. When she turned to face me again I closed the kimono and
tied the sash for her. She was a bit unsteady on her feet so I held onto her
elbow. She sat back down on her bed with the panties still in her hand. She
sat looking down at them turning them over in her hand then shrugged and let
out what might have been a chuckle. Without looking up Sandra handed them
back to me. With a husky catch in her voice, she whispered,
"Don't these look familiar to you, Kev?"
Hesitantly, I took them from her hand. I was unsure why any of her intimate
things should look familiar to me. They were pearl gray, mostly lace and
incredibly soft. But, as I unfolded them they did seem somehow familiar. I
suddenly realized that Sandra was tautly alert and watching my face very
attentively. Spooked again! I glanced back down at the bit of gray silk lace
in my hand. Then I felt Sandra's hand under mine, gently pushing the panties
closer to my face. I let her. When they were only a few inches from my face,
Sandra said,
"Close your eyes and sniff."
My eyes flicked to hers. "Forgive me if I'm wrong but, I thought you
didn't want me to become a pervert. Didn't you lecture me about that
once?"
The words were barely out of my mouth when I had a full-blown, living color
mental picture of Sandra in my room, smiling shyly and wearing little more
than these very panties. For about thirty seconds I just stood there with my
mouth gaping. Then, as Sandra had instructed, I closed my eyes and sniffed -
lavender - her signature scent.
"Aunt Pat. She gave these to you."
"You remember." She whispered.
"These are your famous birthday undies. Patty also gave you the
lavender. You wore these for me that day when you. came to my room.
when you. it was the day I fe."
When I realized what I was about to say - out loud --- I broke off, in a
sudden panic and cold sweat. I tried to recover by changing tack.
"How is it that they still look brand new?"
"Because, my darling Baby Brother, I only ever wore them for you. I
never wore them again. That
afternoon in your bed was so special that I could never bring myself to
wear them casually. I began falling in love with you that day, Kev."
Well, now. there it was. The thing I had been terrified of saying out loud
for six years. Terrified that if she knew, she would think I really was a
pervert - that she could no longer love me. But now, they were Sandra's
words echoing my own thought, my own feelings. I was stunned. My jaw
dropped, my hands dropped to my sides and I dropped to my knees. My hands
still shaking, I placed the gray lace panties on her knees and carefully
refolded them. She reached out to me then, caressing my cheek.
"I know that you fell in love with me that day," she said. Our eyes
locked.
There were ten seconds of deafening silence as my heart tried to tear itself
out of my chest.
"Yes. Oh Sandra. God help me. yes, I did," I whispered.
I took her hand from my cheek and kissed it. I took a long time kissing her
hand. Then with the same hand she brushed a tear from my face. She silently
opened her arms to me. Still on my knees I moved forward and nestled between
her knees, I put my arms around her. I let out a long ragged and broken sigh
when I felt her wrap her arms around me. I gave myself over, trembling, to
the warmth of her embrace.
**
"Aren't we a pair?" Sandra mused after a few minutes.
"We are that," I mumbled into her shoulder.
I chuckled.
"What's so funny, Baby Brother?"
"I only came up here to ask if you wanted to go out to Rally's and then
for some ice cream with me and then the universe collapsed."
"Rally's and ice cream I can manage. The universe is on its own. Let me
shower first. OK?"
"Sure, Sis - do you need any help?"
"I think I know how to take a shower." There was a slight edge in her
voice.
"Don't turn cranky on me now, Sis, or I'll be checking your blood sugar
again. You were none too steady on your feet just a few minutes ago. Let
me rephrase that. Do you want any help?"
Her smile returned but she did not answer. I stood up and took a step back.
I bent down and retrieved the forgotten panties. Sandra stood up and took
them from me.
"We can't have you collecting souvenirs, Baby Brother," she said with a
coy grin.
She returned them their proper place in her dresser. She took my arm and
though she seemed quite recovered, she let me escort her to the bathroom. I
flipped on the light, handed her in and turned to go. She caught my hand and
said,
"Stay, please. at least until I get in."
Turning to face her, I asked, "Are you really OK?"
Her gaze was steady as she replied, "Yes, I think so. I just. I don't. I
just want you near me right now."
Something in her voice, something in her eyes - clawed at me painfully. I
swallowed hard and stepped into the bathroom after her. It answered what
ever that "something" was. Sandra very deliberately put her arms around my
neck and as deliberately put her head in my shoulder. I returned her embrace
and kissed her cheek. She sighed heavily.
"You are so good to me. You really are my true knight and I love you,
Kevin."
There are moments between two people that are so tender, so pure, and so
intimate that they make you ache. This would have been one of those moments
but for my shamelessly bloated dick. With renewed vigor, it was straining
against my pants and pressing firmly into her thigh. For about two seconds I
actually thought, "Perhaps she won't notice." It was pure foolhardy wishful
thinking. After a moment or two of silent basking in the warmth of her arms,
I felt her stiffen. She shifted her pelvis, not away from my offending
member but directly against it. I cleared my throat and tried to step back.
She would not let me retreat gracefully, if anything, she tightened her
embrace. Then she thrust her mons against me pinning my erection to my
thigh. We both gasped at the same time. My brains scrambled again and I lost
control as she ground herself against me. I grabbed a fist full of her hair
and pulled her head back. Hungrily, I sought her mouth with my own. Finding
her lips, moist and parted, I gave her the most passionate kiss I had ever
given. It took her half a beat to join in. She returned my kiss with equal
passion. The feel of her questing tongue slipping into my mouth nearly undid
me as I came to climax. I don't have a clue as to how long the kiss lasted
nor what kept us from going straight to wanton groping. I was barely
conscious when we came up for air. We both struggled to catch our breath.
There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance.
I disentangled myself and held her at arms length, my hands on her
shoulders. I was overcome by fear that I had crossed the line of propriety.
It wasn't about kissing my sister, I was way passed that. It was because I
had forced my kiss on her. Silly perhaps, but I was only fourteen.
Still gasping for breath, I croaked out, "Oh Sandra. I'm so sorry, Sis,
I. please forgive me."
"Don't do that. Don't you dare apologize for love, for loving me. It's
too rare, too precious Kev."
The heat and force of her passion was scorching. I just gaped at her, trying
to blink back the tears that flooded into my eyes. I turned away. To busy my
hands, I took two towels from the linen shelves and placed them in the
warmer. My dick was sticky wet and so hard that it hurt, there was a
poisoned thorn about a foot long sticking into my heart and when I turned
back to her, her stricken expression was the last straw. I wept. She stood
teary eyed with one side of her lower lip between her teeth. I lowered my
face into my hands and wept. I felt her hands in my hair. She stroked my
neck and the side of my face making soft reassuring sounds. I was able to
get hold of myself after about a minute and she dried my eyes with the
sleeve of her robe.
"Well, then. I think that if this keeps up we'll starve to death," she
said with a wry smile. "Splash some cold water on your face, Hon, then
bolt so I can scrub the skunge off of my delicate body."
"Yes. I will but. I. Sandra, I do love you. with all my heart."
She pressed two fingers against my lips and said, "Sush now, my sweet,
save that until we are both fully clothed and well fed. Declarations of
love made in bathrooms are always suspect, especially when the object of
such declarations is more than half naked."
Trying to match her smile, I did the cold water thing then went back down
stairs to wait for her - after a brief detour to my room. It was that
traitor dick in my pants. I went to my room and put on clean BVDs and
khakis. I had ejaculated in my pants during our disparate kiss. My angelic
sister had made me climax. I found this very disturbing and at once very
exciting.
***
Sandra descending the stairs made my heart jump. If that doesn't sound
sappy, I don't know what would. It is, however, the truth. At fourteen, I
was a hopeless romantic. She was dressed pretty much as I was; white shirt,
khaki shorts, white knee socks and docksiders. It was the added red silk
scarf tied round her neck that gave that great black thorn sticking in my
chest a quick half turn. This spooked the cloud of black, arctic butterflies
living in my stomach. Well, of course, I exaggerate. There isn't any other
way to tell this story. Everything about this story is perceptually
exaggerated and emotionally charged. Since 5 PM of that particular day the
entire universe as I knew it had slipped out of phase. As far as I could
tell at that point, nothing - nothing - was ever going to be the same again.
That thought was both extremely exhilarating and not a little frightening.
Sandra descending the stairs, fresh from her bath in a cloud of lavender
with scarlet silk at her throat made my heart jump. A flash of lightning and
the answering thunderclap made the rest of me jump and left my ears ringing.
Do I sound more than a little over emotional? I have no doubt, but you must
keep in mind that since about five in the afternoon of that day I had been
suddenly and unexpectedly thrust into sensory overload. Hormones were
singing bawdy songs in my ears. Synesthesia and time dilation were tugging
at the edges of my perception. And no, I was not on drugs, though my
adrenaline and testosterone levels must have been rather elevated. She
seemed to move both in real time and in slow motion all at once. Her scent
was a soft caress against my face and all her movements were a haunting
Celtic melody. Sandra descending the stairs in a vapor of lavender with her
long, dark, wavy hair bouncing about her face and shoulders and a scarlet
flag of her passion fluttering at her throat made my heart jump.
***
The lightning had struck somewhere near by and all the lights went out.
Sandra quickly crossed the room and opened the front door wide to watch the
storm. I was right behind her but as you might guess, my attention was
divided. The clouds roiled as the lightning danced and the thunder chanted
the litany of fire. Sandra and I have a thing for thunderstorms. As we
stepped out onto the front porch the wind took her hair. A brief spate of
hail rattled on the roof and then the rain cut loose. It rained so hard that
we could not see across the street. The darkness grew dense and the dancing
lightning and thunder were blinding and deafening. Sandra backed into me and
said, "Hold me, please." I put my arms around her. She mirrored my arms and
hands with her own. I had lost count as to how many times I had embraced her
in the space of a couple of hours or so and I could not foresee where all
this touching (and kissing) would lead. I only knew that I did not want this
newfound intimacy ever to end. Her taut buns pressed my groin and surely
felt my tumescence. I put my chin lightly on her shoulder and we watched the
storm thrashing and crashing around us. It's a Queen Ann house so, the
roofed porch extends across nearly the entire front (east) of the house and
wraps around to cover the whole south side. There are lots of hanging plants
and bamboo privacy screens. Very little of the porch can be seen from the
street, however, visibility from the porch is not much obstructed. Feeling
sufficiently private, Sandra slid my right hand up her body to her left
breast. She stopped just short of placing my hand on her breast. On impulse,
I kissed her ear. She sighed contentedly and settled back against me. She
leaned her head back onto my shoulder, enjoying the storm and the embrace.
Sandra turned her face slightly, pressing her cheek against mine and wiggled
her buns against my insanely exhibitionistic boner. She had my full
attention so, I heard when she said, sotto vocce,
"I'm having some very naughty thoughts about you, Kev."
Kissing the nape of her neck, I replied, "I bet they're not as naughty
as my thoughts about you, Sis."
She turned in my arms to face me. She had that deadly serious look. "We
really need to talk about this, Kev. We seem to be headed into uncharted
water."
The thorn in my chest made another half turn and my misery was reflected in
her eyes but I asked,
"Can we eat first?"
Continued in Part 2