Author: Broken Compass Title: Getting in Her Summary: The short but oh-so-sweet account of his passionate affair with his lovely little sister. Keywords: mf, inc, preg ********************************* DISCLAIMER ********************************* The author welcomes feedback of all kinds. He can't wait to hear from you. Please email: BrokenCompass6626@gmail.com Anything that helps me come scores extra points. The author has been inspired by countless works over the years, and it's reflected in this story. He does not intend to steal intellectual property. If any part of his writing too closely resembles another author's work, he apologizes sincerely. All of this is personal me. If you've struck a chord, you may see your echoes here. Take that, please, as the most sincere form of thanks I can give. ----------------------------------------------------------- Getting in Her Don't worry: Grace Saved, Ch. 3 is coming soon. BC just needed to get this one out of his system first. For the TL; DR crowd: enjoy. --------------------------------------------------------------- His sort-of girlfriend stood him up again on the night of the party. Well, didn't stand him up exactly, called a half-hour out. He was getting tired of it though. Why was she still even dating him? He was moping in his usual way. Watching 'Collateral Damage'. Both ottomans pulled together, so he could spread-eagle on the couch. It had long ago lost its ironic humor, but became a salve: comfort in the inane familiarity. It was Friday night. He sister came in. Pajama pants and tank-top. "No no no no. Not again!" she chided. "No mop-ies!" With anyone else, he would have felt resentment. "Yes, mop-ies!" he grunted, trying to keep his mouth down-turned. "NO!" she screeched, then pounced with preternatural speed. He was ready; remote held tight. They scuffled for several minutes. For how long had they been doing this? He let it loosen after a bit. She hooted in victory and leaped to her feet. He got up with a muster he didn't have, and reached around her for the control. She was only 5'4". It wasn't hard. Then, all at once, he knew he was erect. She knew too, because they parted in unison. She got stiff. He let her watch E!, but she sat two cushions away. After awhile, "Where were you going, anyway?" He told her. "Shit, I'll go to that." Just like that, he found himself waiting for another date. But she didn't delay, and she looked good - all made-up. She had stringy brown hair, thin lips, and a longish nose. But those eyes, when she looked at him, those ineffable eyes changed the character of everything else - and made her beautiful. He'd often reflected how remarkable: beauty in an instant, with just a shy flash. And the liner . . . well it threw beautiful to hypnotic. He was nervous, but she chided him again. No one would know who they were. This wasn't a high-school party. In mock-offense: Wasn't she good enough for his date? They landed as wallflowers, perched on the wraparound couch, watching the room. She held his hand, and her fingers stroked and fluttered. They danced to "Layla." Somehow. When the tempo slowed, they shifted to swaying. He had to drop his hands. Just had to. She softened. When she took his hand again, she led. After they locked the door, those little hands outright commanded. On the bed, she moved to his ear. "Ravish me," she told him. He did. He explored the puffy little nipples. He sucked and tongued those gummy little labia. He pinned her on her back, then mouthed those blithe little toes while entering her again and again with liquid thrusts. He rolled, pulling her up and over. He enfolded her tightly, up and down, while meeting her short frantic strokes, their bodies melting together. He rolled again and pinned her arms with one hand. He forced himself into every space she had, kneading her breasts, fingering her face and mouth. Relishing her moans. They'd only had five or six, so he wasn't really hungover Saturday morning. But the car ride was silent. There was a Halloween party, two weeks later. This one WAS for high school. They each followed their own tortuous trail of logic to arrive at the agreement to go together. They hadn't spoken about anything substantive since the last party - the last touch. The both got masks - pretty good ones. They agreed their masks were good enough to commit to. They donned them before they even got out of the car. Again on the couch, they held hands. Funny: they were even more anonymous here then they'd been at the homecoming party. It was thrilling. Her fingers started dancing again. This time HE led, upstairs and down the hall. But SHE pulled him down again. "Ravage me," she begged. He did. He forced her head to his crotch. He slapped her face. She freed him and took him down her throat. He held her head and thrust until he was as hard as he could be. He delighted in the squeeze of her gags. He stripped her quickly, then pushed her face into the pillows and took her hard. She was already soaking. Thus lubricated, he reamed into her anus. She screamed. He held her tightly for a minute, pulling on her breasts and fingering her nipples. He built his stokes gradually, but with inexorable confidence. She came quickly. He did too. He moved down and licked her dry -- no small feat. Next day was a Sunday. The mass they opted out of was at 9:00. She came in at 8:55 and slipped down behind him. "Reclaim me," she pleaded. He turned over, then turned her over. He held her for a long time. They became complete. They had a lovely winter, spring, and summer. When it came time for orientation, he decide that Notre Dame could wait for a while. He had to handle college expenses all on his own, so it made sense to get the Gen. Ed's out of the way at the local community college. A local school. They explored every inch of each other on his futon, in that drafty apartment. When he started his third term, she turned eighteen. His parents couldn't afford to pay for ANY of college, so they didn't receive the mailings: She "moved" to Oregon for a secretarial job; he "moved" to Indiana for a four-year college experience. They both, in fact, met up in St. Louis. She waited tables while he attended more Community College classes. Every night, they would love each other. On the first hot summer night, she read, propped up with pillows, while he remained content to lie next to her, idly stroking her bloated belly. She squeaked in disapproval when he knocked the book from her hands, but grunted with satisfaction when he entered her. They played with each others' tongues for a long time. When he finally started thrusting, he came right away. And that was fine. The author welcomes feedback of all kinds. He can't wait to hear from you. Please email: BrokenCompass6626@gmail.comGetting in Her