
                            Sisterly Love
                             by Ms. Which


While caring for her severely injured older brother, a 14 year old
girl decides to take advantage of the situation to learn about boys
and sex.  

                                -=*=-

Copyright 2000 by Ms. Which.  All rights reserved.
This story may not be reproduced in any form without explicit
permission from the author.  The author reserves exclusive rights to
post this story on usenet.  Permission is granted for you to make and
keep one (1) electronic copy for your personal use as long as this
notice is retained, unchanged, as a part of this document.  No other
archiving, commercial or otherwise, is permitted.

Published with permission from the author by TYGER.  

Send comments to:  mswhich@hotmail.com

                                -=*=-

It all started when Jonathan had his skiing accident.  He was hurt
badly; so badly that for a time we thought he would die.  He broke
bones in all his major limbs, including his hands and feet.  He even
broke his collarbone.  They had to put him in a full body cast, sew
his lips together, and feed him through first IV tubes and, later, a
straw.

After we brought him home, he had visitors for the first week or so,
but after that it died down to an occasional trickle.  His friends
simply lost interest, because Jonathan couldn't even talk to them.
It's pretty boring, sitting there talking to a giant cast.  All poor
Jonathan could do was grunt occasionally.

I took over the responsibility of caring for him, feeding him,
sponging him off, that sort of thing.  Mom said that I didn't have
to, that the nurse who came every day could do it, but I was happy to
help out.  It was summertime, I was bored, and I felt bad for my big
brother.  He was always athletic, and now he was stuck in a room, not
even able to move, much less go hiking or camping or any of the other
things he loved to do in summertime.  I'm sure it was awful for him.
And horribly boring, too.

I really didn't mind taking care of him, but it was a little
embarrassing sometimes, sponging him off.  Just a little, though.
Honestly, I was glad for the lesson in boys' anatomy.  I'd always
been a little curious about what things looked like down there.
Besides, he was my brother, it's not like anything would happen.  At
least, I didn't think so then.

Mostly, I'd just sit in his room and talk to him for hours about
various stuff.  I told him about movies I'd seen, concerts I'd gone
too, what his friends were up to.  I read books to him.  He seemed to
like it well enough.  I'm sure it beat lying there staring at the
wall, listening to KROK on the radio.  Sometimes he'd grunt to agree
with something I said or answer a yes or no question I'd asked, but
mostly he just laid there and listened to me.  I guess he was a
captive audience, but like I said, he didn't seem to mind much.

Things went on that way for a week or two.  I'd just started to
settle into the routine, when it unexpectedly changed.

I was sponging Jonathan off.  I was used to it by now, and I didn't
get embarrassed anymore.  I just undid the covering around his
mid-section, got the sponge all wet and soapy, and cleaned him off,
from his belly to his upper thighs (the area the cast didn't cover,
in other words).  Usually it took about ten minutes.

This one day, though, it was different than usual.  I sponged all
around his belly and back, just like usual, and then I dipped the
sponge in the water again, and lifted his dick up out of the way so I
could sponge behind it too, and all of a sudden it stiffened in my
hand.  I don't mean that it got hard as a rock, but I felt it twitch
and jerk and get a little bit stiff.  I looked up at Jonathan's face,
but I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or what.  I thought his
eyes were closed.

I just held his dick in my hand for the longest time, staring at it
like it was some kind of strange animal.  It kept twitching, and
getting stiffer, the longer I touched it.

My friend Jenny told me once that boys our age like to touch
themselves, a LOT.  Even more than girls do.  And I knew that
Jonathan had some porn mags stashed underneath his mattress.  So when
I was standing there, holding his dick in my soapy hand, I realized
that with him being in a cast like that, he couldn't touch himself
anymore.

I don't know why I did what I did next.  Partly I was curious what
would happen, but partly I just had this urge to do it.  I felt so
bad for Jonathan, and he was so hurt, and I kept thinking about what
Jenny said, about how boys need to touch themselves every so often.

So I soaped up a little more and started to rub his dick.  I didn't
really know what I was doing, but every time I did something that
felt good, it would twitch and get stiffer, so I learned pretty quick.

After awhile, it was way longer than my hand.  It was long and thick
and sort of rhythmically throbbing, and Jonathan was starting to make
sounds, sort of strangled grunting sounds, but I ignored him.  I
figured he either liked it or wanted me to stop, and either way it
didn't matter.  If I'd been hurting him, his dick wouldn't have been
so hard.

I got up on the bed and knelt across his body, sort of straddling
him, to get better leverage with my hands.  I just kept stroking it,
up and down, up and down, because he seemed to really like that.
After about five minutes, he shot come all over me.  I was surprised,
because I hadn't known what would happen as a result of all that
stroking.  I liked it, though.  It made it easy for me to know when
to stop.

I cleaned him up (and me up too, he shot a little onto my belly) and
pretended like nothing had happened.  The next day I just brought his
food and fed him and read stories to him just like always.

But it wasn't just like always.  I'd been thinking about Jonathan and
how hard his cock was, and how much I loved my brother.  I'd been
thinking about it a lot.  So when it was time for his sponge bath, I
spent a little extra time scrubbing up around his dick, and sure
enough it started to get hard again.

See, I knew I liked sex, even at the age of 14.  I hadn't actually
HAD any yet, but I thought about it a lot.  My problem wasn't finding
someone to have sex with me -- that's not really a problem when
you're young, cute, and 14.  The problem was that there was nobody I
really wanted to have sex with.  None of the boys that I went to
school with were attractive to me at all.  I had nothing in common
with them and no feelings for them.  For the most part, they thought
of girls as another cool accessory to drive around in their cars.

I'd more or less resigned myself to waiting for college, when
Jonathan changed those plans for me.  I stood there, holding his
stiffened dick in my hand, for the longest time.  I just thought
about how much I loved my brother, how much I loved taking care of
him, and how much he loved me.  He was my big brother.  He'd always
helped me when I had problems, he'd always been there at my side when
I needed him.  I knew I could trust him.  And I wanted to help him
get better, help him to feel good.

I knew what I wanted to do.

When I put my mouth on his dick the first time, he made this sound
that was almost like a scream.  I didn't pay any attention.  I was
too preoccupied with trying to figure out how to get his entire dick
into my mouth.  It just wouldn't fit at first, and then I figured out
that you had to open up REALLY wide and let a little bit go down in
your throat.

I gagged a lot at first, but pretty soon I got over it.  Once I
figured out how not to choke, I really started to like giving
Jonathan blowjobs.  He liked it too, or at least he stopped making
those horrible sounds.  I usually did it once during his sponge bath
time and again at night, when I sneaked into his room.

I started thinking of what I was doing as "helping Jonathan out," and
I started to like helping out my brother more and more, every day.  I
liked taking his cock in my mouth while it was still limp and feeling
it get hard against my tongue.  I liked when Jonathan moaned as he
spurted into my mouth.  I liked the taste of his come.  I wanted to
help him more and more often, and before long I was making him come
two or three times a day.

It was about then that they unstitched his mouth.

The first time I came into his room after he could talk again, I shut
and locked his bedroom door.  I figured he'd have some things to say
to me.  And I was right.

His voice sounded really shaky and hoarse.  I don't know if it was
from not talking for weeks or from having a hard time with what I'd
been doing.  He said, "Amy, you know I love you because you're my
sister, but it's wrong... what we're doing... you have to stop.
Please."

I tried to muster up a "you must be crazy" look, but really I just
wanted to cry.  I didn't want to stop, I loved helping out my brother
this way.  I was crushed that he didn't feel the same.

"Jonathan," I said, trying my best, "do you know how long you'll have
to go without touching yourself if I don't do it for you?"

He looked pale.  "Amy..  it's not right.  You're my sister."

I knew that my eyes were welling up with tears, and I willed them to
stop.  It wasn't working.  "Jonathan, I know you like it, I wouldn't
be able to make you come so much if you didn't like it."

His face turned red.  He didn't give up, though.  Not yet.

"Amy, it's wrong.  It's just wrong.  We shouldn't."

I shrugged bravely.  Tears were starting to trickle down my cheeks.

"You know I love you, and I know you love me, and there's no reason
for you not to let me help you, Jonathan."

I know I shouldn't have done it, but I had to show him what he'd be
giving up.  I took his dick into my hands and started to stroke it,
just like I'd done that first day, so many weeks ago.

"Amy, stop.  Stop it.  Don't..  Amy, please, don't.  Oh, God, Amy...
Amy...please...Amy, sweet Amy, oh God..."

I didn't stop.  After the first few moments, he didn't even ask me
to.  He just groaned like that and called my name until he came, and
then he started crying.  I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead
and told him it was OK.

"Don't you love me, Jonathan?  I love you.  I like making you happy
this way.  If you really really really want me to stop, I will.  But
you don't want me to stop, do you?  Who could help you out this way
except for me?"

I looked at him pleadingly.

Jonathan gave me a wan smile.  "Amy, that's the same look you give me
when you want me to buy you a milkshake on the way home from school."

He closed his eyes and sighed.  I knew he was thinking about the way
my hands and mouth felt on his dick.  I knew he was thinking about
how long he still had to be in the cast.

After a very long pause, he opened his eyes and looked at me.

"Amy, I love you.  And I shouldn't let you do this, because I love
you so much.  But..."  he trailed off.

I looked back hopefully.  "But...?"  I repeated.

He spoke in a soft voice, and he sounded quiet and resigned.  "But it
feels so good.  I don't want you to stop.  Please don't stop, Amy."

I carefully climbed back into the bed with him, snuggled up
alongside, and whispered into his ear, "I promise I won't, Jonathan.
I promise."

That night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, I crept back
into his room.  I closed the door and locked it again, as quietly as
I could.  I didn't know if Jonathan was awake, until he surprised me
by speaking.

"I didn't know if you'd come tonight, Amy."

"Are you glad I did?"

He answered simply, "Yes."

I crawled into bed with him, as I sometimes did when I made my
nightly visit.  But this time was different.  This time, instead of
wrapping my hand around his dick or taking it into my mouth, I
straddled his body, on my knees.

I could feel his dick brush against my legs and I knew that he was
already hard.  It was so dark in his room that I couldn't see his
face, but I knew he had to be startled.  I felt his body tense up.

He spoke in a quiet voice.  "Amy, what are you doing?"

I didn't want to have another long discussion.  I just wanted to show
my brother how much I loved him.  I answered him shortly, "You know
what I'm doing."

His cock twitched.  I knew then that he wanted it as much as I did.
His mind, or maybe his conscience, fought against it, but he desired
it.  His body didn't lie to me.

I moved lower, kneeling over him, until the head of his cock was
poised at the entrance to my vagina.  He let out a sharp breath.

"No, Amy, no, this is too far.  You can't."

"Jonathan, I love you, and there's no other man in the world I'd
rather do this with.  I want it to be you.  Please.  Please,
Jonathan."

I reached between my legs to guide him with my hand, and he groaned
but didn't protest again.  I had a hard time guiding his dick inside
me.  It kept slipping out or pushing against my pelvic bone.  But
eventually I got it into the right position, and when the first
little bit of it was inside me, I pushed down and felt it thrust all
the way up inside.

Jonathan gasped, loudly, and I did too.  I'd felt something tear,
which hurt, but then I didn't notice that pain because I felt too
good, way too good.  I couldn't even move for a little bit, because I
had to get used to the feeling of having Jonathan pushed way up
inside me like that.

I wish I could describe how good it felt, making love to my brother,
who I loved more than anyone in the world.  I wish I could really
describe the feeling when his dick first pressed into me.  I'm not
that good with words, but it was ... it was unbelievable.  It was
indescribable.

Out of this haze of pleasure I was lost in, I noticed that Jonathan
was trying to thrust up into me with his hips, and I knew he'd hurt
himself if he kept doing that, so I started moving instead.  I
couldn't move much without losing my balance, but I guess it was
enough, because Jonathan settled back and let me take over.

At first I tried to move slowly so that I wouldn't hurt him, but I
couldn't help myself before long, and I just started bouncing up and
down on his cock without even thinking of his casts.  The next day
I'd have pulled muscles in both my thighs, but all I could feel at
that moment was intense, blissful pleasure.

My whole body started to tingle, and I knew what was going to happen
from the few times I'd touched myself.  Without ceasing my rapid
up-and-down rhythm, I hissed to Jonathan, "I'm about to come and
after I come I can't keep this up so if you want to come, big
brother, you better do it now."

He groaned and I felt him start to thrust up into me again.  Before,
I'd been scared he'd hurt himself, but now I didn't care.  It felt so
good, so overwhelmingly good.  I heard him start to moan something
and after a moment I realized it was my name.

"Amy, Amy, oh God, beautiful Amy, sweet Amy, my Amy, precious,
beautiful Amy, Amy, oh Amy..."

Over and over again.  After a few moments, I stopped hearing him,
because my orgasm was sweeping over me, a fiery burst of pleasure
that caused me to arch my back and rock my hips violently forward.
At the same time, Jonathan arched upward into me with a long, loud
moan.

Afterward, I collapsed forward onto him and we both lay there,
dripping with sweat, regaining our breath, for a long time.

                                  --

Two weeks later, Jonathan's casts were removed.  I was terrified that
now that he wasn't captive to my ministrations, he wouldn't even talk
to me, much less make love to me.  I sat in my room while the
physical therapist talked to him and my parents, scared, nearly
crying from anxiety.  Jonathan was now more than my brother, he was
my lover, and I did love him, fiercely, passionately.  I didn't know
what to do, so I sat and waited.

After the physical therapist had gone, and I'd become convinced that
Jonathan would never speak to me again -- it had only been a few
hours, but those hours stretched to weeks and months in my
14-year-old mind -- there was a tap at the door.

It was him.  He came in, on crutches because his muscles were so
weak, and submitted to the violent hug I gave him.  Pressed tightly
against him, I whispered into his ear, "I thought you wouldn't want
me anymore.  I thought you wouldn't even want to look at me."

He whispered back, "Amy, sweet Amy, how could you think that?  You're
beautiful and I love you.  I would never do that to you."

It was the promise of a headstrong teenager, made to a girl hardly
old enough to be considered a woman.  But he kept it.  We grew up,
and found other lovers.  We found others to satisfy our wants and
needs, others to love.  I eventually married; he hasn't yet, but
hasn't wanted for steady girlfriends through the years.  But he kept
his promise to me.  Whenever I need help, my brother is there.  When
I need a shoulder to cry on, he's there.  He is there for me,
constantly and without fail.

And every so often, when I need him the most, we find a quiet room of
the house when no one else is home, and he shows me again how much he
loves me.

