SIBLING RIVALRY

Adapted by Ylloh Kcinner

ADAPTOR'S NOTES

Thanks to American author Holly Rennick for permission to adapt this selection from "Writer's Notebook" for publication in my country (a part of the former Soviet Union).  We wish to practice American English and receive a NATO air field.

America is our friend.  Arnold Schwarzenegger is a famous American leader.  Holly Rennick is a famous American scholar of English.

Because my country is very cold, we prefer hot literature.  We say, "Wow, man!  This is very 'toh'."  We understand little of the American mind, so there is no need for character development.

"Rehgih ekorts erocs."  Pronounce it as best you can, over and over, permeating your subconscious.  In my native language (with Byzantine diacritics) it means, "Brother sister to-and-fro."

JANUARY

"Three girls felt Zak's penis at his sister's slumber party.  She's a Junior.  First they wanted him to play strip poker, but he wouldn't.  He knew they'd rig it."

"It'd be easy," I agreed, sipping my Starbucks.  If we don't have much sex life ourselves, we can speculate about our students.  Plus while we gossip, we can learn to knit.

"The thing is," interjected my teaching colleague," you're supposed to cheat fair so everybody gets naked."

I've never actually played strip poker, but know how it works.  I'd read about Naked Twister, too. but  I'd just played the Milton Bradley way.

"You think this will look like a sweater?" asking me to appraise several rows of knitting production.

"Or a scarf."

My girlfriend continued, "So three of them snuck into Zak's room in the middle of the night and held the cover over his head so he couldn't tell who.  They sat on him and teased till he got hard.  He couldn't help it.  They had a ruler, so there must have been a bet or something."

"No way" I objected.  She always stretched the facts.  They'd bet on his length?

"Cross my heart with my Maidenform bra!  They pulled his boxers all the way down so they could measure his balls, too.  After he got his erection, they were nicer.  One girl made him squeeze her tits while they did their thing; he liked that part.  The last one rubbed herself across his cock, but he didn't shoot, when they were there, anyway.  If he had, they'd make a big deal of it."

"It would be a big deal," I noted.  "They'd start bagging him everywhere, like in the band room."  Actually, it depends on the school: band room, auditorium light booth, drama storeroom, balcony of the old gym, they'll find a place.  Once I found a used condom behind the reference bookshelf in the back of my classroom, but it had to have been from when I wasn't there.  The janitors sometimes forget to lock.

"He knows it was three because they took turns.  At the last, they uncovered his mouth and each kissed him.  They left three pairs of panties on his pillow.  So high-schoolish, right?  Except for their giggles, the whole thing was perfectly silent, them and him."

"Poor kid.  They should fondle the boys who want them to."  I was, I'll admit, fondling myself just a tad, the heel of my hand pressing my lap.  My hand was under my knitting bag, of course.

My friend noticed, but then I don't keep secrets from her very well.  "I had your reaction, too," with her tiny tongue flip.

"What reaction?"  I straightened up a bit.

"Your bag helps," in perfect deadpan.

And then back to Zak, "He's pretty sure who two were, the way they blushed next morning.  His sister could be the other, he suspects, because she's started getting these videos when their folks are out.  They have a basement TV.  You ever see 'Undercover Agent Uncovered'?  You should.  Zak's sister just wears her summer nightie, even though it's winter, and scoots right next to him."

"Bra?" I wondered.  In Watergate, they said, "Follow the money."  I say, "Follow the brassiere."

"Sometimes when they start watching, but she'll go to the bathroom and ditch it."

"And she'd let other girls goose her little brother?  She's a weirdo."

"More than goose, actually.  But it's not weird; it's just not talked about.  She'll just hop into his lap in the middle of the movie and get him to wrap his arms under her boobs.  During a buildup scene, she'll snuggle deeper so his hard-on fits against her crack.  He has one constantly."

"I wonder why?"  Maybe I should have used a larger knitting needle, I decided, but it was too late.  Story of my life.

"She'll even say things like, 'I'll bet she never tells,' or 'that one would be a way to start.'"

"Why not just say, 'Let's do it too, dear brother of mine?'"  I'm direct at times, at least in suggestions.

"Good point," agreed my friend.  "To get more comfy, she'll move his arms up.  If he cups one through her nightie, he doesn't act intentional.  He can bump her nip, but shouldn't squeeze, if you get the difference.  Or she'll tug her neckline out enough for him look right over her shoulder.  She looks too."

"Tease the guy to death!"  Tease me to death, too!  My coffee was getting cold, but so what?

"Well, he does sort of like the cuddling.  He's just a guy.".

"With his sister?"  This was the hard bit.

"If Zak puts a pillow over his lap, she tries to wrestle it away.  'Perv-boy peeked and got a biggie!  We can't help how we get sometimes, can we?'  That kind of stuff."

"Poor guy probably wants to slide under the sofa."  My personal theory says, look, don't discuss, but it's pretty much a theory.

"She'll crawl right on top of him in the battle.  If a button comes loose and a boob pops out, she claims it doesn't matter because they used to take baths together anyway.  They still could, she adds."

"Would they take their rubber ducky?"  I hummed a few bars.  (Ernie was always so sweet, chatting away at poor mono-brow Bert who just wanted to sleep sometimes.  I never bought into that homosexual lobby conspiracy some people railed about.)

"She makes him button her back in because she says he undid it,"  my friend ignoring my duck question.  "She holds real still while he fixes it and then starts wrestling until it gets undone again.  And when her gown rides up, him seeing her panties doesn't matter, she says, because there's nobody watching them wrestle."

"Like we wrestle in our little panties and they don't see everything?"  We know exactly how they wedge up.

"He sees enough," in agreement..  "When he touches a tit in the wrestling, she kind of pauses and raises her arm before trying to escape.  If he touches her butt, she giggles that he better not spank her.  He's brushed between her legs when he was pinning her, but not long enough to do anything.  His touches aren't all accidental, you know."

"Don't blame Zak," I warned.

"She tries to touch too, her leg between his.  Or maybe the side of her arm gets there.  Like with her tits, if it seems accidental he'll go along."

"This is going somewhere it shouldn't."  Actually, I thought it had already.

"Not really.  They end up with her thigh on his cock, his hip against her sweet spot.  More or less even for a make-out, anyway.  Nothing really gets anywhere."  My friend giggled at the inference.  "She's probably watching his breathing, seeing what's working."

"Just a matter of time."  This much I knew.

"And then Zak found her Valentine's panties in his dresser, bikini ones with little red hearts.  Like their mom can't sort their laundry?  Right!  When he threw them in her room, she asked if she should wear them next time, even if they don't stay up very well.  Talk about bold!  It's because she knows that brother is a virgin with a big one and won't tell on her.  She was the third girl, alright."

My friend thought a moment more.  "Anyway, Zak really likes his sister.  He's spied on her, pretty well actually, but it just makes him hornier.  She knows, too.  Would you leave your door open a crack at bedtime, turn away right when you get naked, hop under the sheet and touch yourself, him still peeking in?  The girl's cruel!  Well, maybe she's smart.  He should slip in and finish what she started."

"They'll have a six-fingered baby," I retorted, then wondered, "So how come you all this, anyway?"

"I'm Zak's teacher, right?"

I looked at her.

"Extracurricular," she clarified, knowing that girlfriends keep secrets.

My stitches were really uneven, but maybe with a baggy sweater, no one would notice.

MARCH

Zak slipped in and closed the door.

"Zak, what are you doing?  Get out of my room!"  His sister clutched her sheet.  Window-light illuminated four protrusions underneath -- breasts and knees.

He knew she wasn't asleep.  "Really quiet, or I'll tell Mom what you're doing."  He used his foot to push her throw-rug against crack beneath the door while he took off his shirt.

"I'm not doing anything.  Beat it," but more in a whisper.

Ignoring her dismissal, he sat on her bed.

"Get off and get out, boy child," a bit more fiercely, but still hushed.

"You were twiddling yourself, right?"  He put his hand on her abdomen and she pulled back.

"Quit it!  I was sleeping," she lied.  He'd not really seen anything specific, she figured, just getting relaxed after a busy day.

"Or was it here?" his hand sliding upward.

A swat with her elbow.  "Pervert!"

Zak poked at a nipple, thimble-like, punctuating the linen.  "How'd it get hard, then?  It's not that big a tit, overall, but it's nice," a pinch serving as the period.

"Quit it and scram.  You can't do that!" still a whisper.  She swatted again and scooted against the wall.  He scooted in emboldened pursuit.

"I wouldn't have to squeeze if you'd lie still.  You let me in the basement" pinching again, a bit harder.

"Stop acting like a jerk."  She tugged his hand off, but he returned.  "It's different there because it's accidental and you show a little respect.  Besides, what do you know about anything bigger than AA's?"

"How to feel them," he boasted.  "I'm good."

"Says who?  Some mannequin?"

"Somebody with bigger ones than these."

"Well bigger isn't better, stupid!  Plus I'm dressed when we're watching TV."  She slapped hard at his wrist.  If it hurt he deserved it.

"Dressed?  I suppose you accidentally sit on my lap, too?"  He relaxed his clasp and rested his hand on her ribs.

She felt her breath retreat.  "I can't help about you when we watch.  I do mind you being here now, though.  It's my room!"

"Let's make it not an accident, then,"  reclaiming her bust slowly.  Very slowly.

She twisted again, but to avoid another pinching, didn't intervene as he massaged through the sheet, concentrating on her nipples.

Well, it's not much more than in the basement, she told herself.  We've only messed around on the couch, but maybe here would be OK, too.  Her bedroom's just where they happened to be.  If he wants to feel, she'll let him, the little perv.  She didn't totally mind what he was doing.  She'd been getting in the mood when he showed up, anyway.  It's just so rude, how he just barged in, though.  She expanded her chest so she'd seem bigger.

Her breathing deepened.  Her neck visibly relaxed and her head fell back against the pillow.  "You go out and I'll get in my nightie.  We can look at your magazines with my flashlight," she grinned.  He didn't know that she even knew about his magazines, she figured, so such cognizance might help re-establish her rank.

He smiled too, but a bit more darkly.  "No nighties.  Why look at pictures when we can wrestle?"

"We can't wrestle here!  And stop touching me!"

"Let's just chuck this sheet," tugging at its corner.  "It's not cold."

"No way!  I'm not dressed, jerk-off spy!"  Some truth there, she knew.

"You rub them like this," showing her, gentle for the first time.

She didn't deny, but wiggled farther away and stuck out her tongue.  "You treat me with respect!  Anyway, I can't wrestle because of the curse."

"Nice try.  I don't want to finish you off you during your little period either, so I checked the wastebasket.  It's been a week."

"You make me gag, Zak.  You lick them clean, I'll bet."  She paused, her rejoinder suddenly no longer that important.  His "finish you off" signaled a different intention.  Who does he think he is?

"How about I lick you clean to get you ready?"

She now knew what he was after.  The cocky little bastard!

Quickly, "Oh no, Zak boy, we're not doing that.  I'm not on the pill.  Leave me alone, asshole," an elbow to his ribs to detour his roving.

He moved his reach toward her crotch and she grabbed his wrist, leaving a single hand to preserve the sheet.

"You knew I'd be in here sooner or later," he judged.

She looked for a different argument.  "Anyway, I know about the sock under your mattress.  Wash it," grasping for advantage.  "And so do my girlfriends, but you don't know which ones.  We take turns at your keyhole.  You're such a pervert."

"They got interested enough to hold me down, anyway.  You're the pervert and couldn't even make me come."

"Am not!" fiercely.  "You would have, but I didn't want your icky stuff on me," in further justification

"Well this time, up the stovepipe," with his disarming smile.

She couldn't stop his palm rubbing her pelvis through the sheet.  This wasn't just a game.

He moved to her thigh and then down to her shin.

"Penis face!  Go wank yourself," trying  to sound in-charge, her old voice.

Zak continued his business, serious business.  "So let's take off elder sister's sheet."

As she was still clutching the cover to her throat, exposing her toes was easy.  When he bared her knees, she flipped face down and tried to burrow.  At the end, the sheet was a scarf, easily pried away.

"Frontward, please," to her bare back.  No response other than clenching her butt and locking her hands under her crotch.

"Give me my sheet!"  She didn't even realize he'd pulled down his pants until his erection prodded her cheeks.

Turning to look over her shoulder, "Ugly!"

With her girlfriends, it seemed a cute plaything.  Now, looming white and rigid from her brother's shadow of hair, it looked larger.  He was bouncing his hips just enough to make it wave.  She broke her stare when she realized he was watching her eyes.

"Well, we'll stick in a place where it's dark."  He could be so crude!.

Straddling her, he teased her clenched rear with pretend probes, then let it slide along her crack.  He reached under her arms to fondle her again and she shivered as he took the time needed to recover her nipples

Sitting on the sofa, she'd been the one doing the pressing downward.  She didn't like getting mauled, but disliked being bare-bottomed on the bottom even more.

His erection pressed more firmly against her flesh.

"Zak, don't do that stuff to me.  I never made you do anything on the couch.  Just go away.  I won't tell," almost meekly.  She wouldn't.

"I know you won't," he agreed.  "So how to turn her right-side up?" he asked the air.

"I'll do you with both hands," she negotiated.  "You can play with my tits, during."

"Too late.  You never delivered on the couch.  A bed's for the real thing," still reaching around her.  She raised on her elbows a little, hoping to buy time.

"You can spy on a slumber party.  I'll get them to play around and everything.  OK?"  She tried to smile, but it was forced.

"I'd rather see you play around."

"OK."  A ray of hope -- she'd let him watch.  Maybe he'd even do it, too.

He read her mind.  "I mean play around while we fuck."

"Zak, please don't"  She so much didn't like that word.

His hands moved to her stomach to lift.  She hoped she was too heavy unless he got more assertive, and that could make noise.

She foiled his reach between her buttocks by locking her legs together.

Reaching around her hip, he worked his fingertips near her crotch before clenched hands blocked that route.

"Almost got there and I was hardly trying," in whispered boast.

He shifted to her side.

As her brother tried to roll her toward him (hard to defend against without spreading her legs), she counterattacked, slugging his stomach, pushing him back with a swift forearm and almost diving free.  Naked on the floor would hardly be home free, she realized, but beat being naked in bed.  It no longer mattered what he saw.  Ill-aimed blows rained on her sibling, but without room for a wind-up, inflicted little damage.  Her fingernails, however, left marks.

Zak, sensing her disequilibrium, twisted her leg and quickly had her ripely on her back, one of his hands below her neck, the other on her stomach.  She was cognizant that neither perch afforded him much hold, but he'd shifted to her shoulder and hip while she gasped for breath.

He pulled her to the bed's center, where the mattress' softness made her feel as if she were in a trench.

She invested her hands to shield her tangle of pubic hair; leaving her breasts listing outward and exposed.

"Better," he rudely acknowledged, jamming his knee between her legs and pulling her hands aside to assess.

She went for his throat.

His hand closed on her genitalia with surprising carefulness, considering that her chokehold was not gentle in return until he broke her attempt at strangulation.

"Just relax, will you?" slipping a digit where her flesh parted.  Here she was, she realized, trying to choke her brother, while in return he was touching her with a single finger.

"I'm going to yell!" she hissed, feeling herself opened.

"So who rented the movies?  How'd you even get a card to that video store?  I was sound asleep when you three came in."  He pinched her labia, not hard, but enough to remind her he'd torqued her breast earlier.

"Zak, please stop.  You'll hurt me."  Not knowing how to prevent him, she began to tear.

"Don't be a crybaby.  It won't hurt."  It won't hurt him, that is, she realized.

Oblivious to protests alternating between pleas and defiance, her brother began to explore.  A downward-wiggled finger found her moist.  From what's happening now, she wondered?

She tried for another throat clutch, but was again thwarted.

She readied for a harder pinch, but instead he paused.  "Ready?" actually a question.

"Pig!"  But from somewhere, sensing onset of un-offered compliance, she ceased flailing.  She grabbed her pillow for protection, but didn't know what to do with it.

He fingered her vagina, still just a single digit.

Trying to squeeze him out just meant he wiggled into her harder.  She wasn't at all ready.

"Was this what I interrupted?" now giving her full-fingered ins and outs.

He maybe knows a little bit, she realized.  She was panting, probably 80 percent from being upset, but the remaining 20 from the encroaching warmth.  If she twisted, his finger hurt her, so she lay still while the 20 became 30.

"Anus breath!  I'll finger fuck your ass some day," she declared, still lying motionless.  Maybe it was now 40.  "I'll tie you up and make you cry.  A bunch of us will take pictures for our scrapbooks," she threatened as the tingle grew to 50, then 60.

"I'm not tying you up, am I?  Fair fight.  Just one finger."  He looked at her, "Why not help me out?  Like in a movie."

"You down and I use a corncob, shit-head!" her nipples still fully erect. 70.

"That was just to get you stretched," tough-boy talk.  She knew he hadn't stretched her any more than she was expanding herself to 80.

His knees pushing hers to either side rekindled her thrashing, so much so that the headboard rattled.  With noise their mutual enemy, he jammed he pillow between bed and the wall.  It did the trick and they resumed battle.

Zak forced her other pillow under her butt and she knew he wanted to make her moan, fucked deeply.  She twisted right and left, but never off the pillow that would help relieve the pounding.

Gasps and murmurs punctuated his description of what was to come as her last defenses waned.

She didn't surrender when he breached her.  She involuntarily gasped at its suddenness and pulled free, but he penetrated again and this time she couldn't retreat.

His eyes were shut in concentration.  She pummeled his back with inward flays from the elbow, accomplishing nothing, but she didn't know what else to do with her arms.  He locked a hand under each of her shoulders to still her wasted expenditure.  90.

Her thwarting pelvic maneuvers and clenched canal limited his insertion to just a centimeter at a time, but it was relentlessly one-way.  As much as she contracted to expel him, each push left her too exhausted to complete her intent.  Kicking her heels into his calves only invited his thrust, but she banged him with her feet anyway.

The abrupt and contorted friction hurt her, but she was glad because she knew it to be hard on him as well.  No, maybe that wasn't right.  She was glad she'd punished him to this point.

In ruthless mating, they labored together in adversarial alliance.

Their battle assumed the fluidity of slow motion, sometimes almost a deadlock of incrementally alternate wills, pausing in momentary truce between each test.  His insertions were measured, each wedging deeper.

"Remember when we used to play Slippery Slide when we were little?" Zak paused, starting to giggle.

She bucked her hips in what she hoped appeared an effort to unseat her brother and rejected his determination to insert his tongue in her mouth.  The foray of tongues in fact replaced the contest of genitals, Zak's penis half-way into his sister while the two feinted, parried and drove, tongue against tongue.

Between male and female secretions, she was now better lubricated.  The two resumed their coupling, slow and synchronous.

"Pencil dick," she dismissed his effort, lest he think that his circumference was big enough to feel.

"Hang on for the fun part," he warned, gliding in and out almost his full length.  She was glad he hadn't believed her.

She complied, hands on his shoulders, but didn't surrender when he escalated their rhythm.  With her hips elevated, he probed her depth.

"Tell me when it's Bingo," he whispered.

She stifled a moan, partly for the noise concern, but more so to deny verbalizing that she'd turned the corner.  She lifted her torso free of the pillow, his weight with hers, but only to collapse back in futile exhaustion, fighting not desire, but revelation.

Coupled, she knew she'd climax at whatever cadence he beat.  But as she owed him no predictability, random rebounds were her last hope to frustrate dominance.  But even this was too hard and she fell into a mutual pace of rise and fall.

As she writhed against her brother, her cheeks reddened, her pupils lost focus, her forehead beaded, her mouth formed an oval.

She'd fondled it at the slumber party and had teased it to hardness any number of times since, but feeling it fuck her was so different.  Contradicting their verbal rudeness, physical reciprocity assumed the smoothness of fresh butter.

She didn't surrender even in orgasm, hot and angry at losing.  His weight plastered her as she spent herself, pushing and pulling.  It was full, one in which female fluids expel, sexuality and power thus intermingling.

Glad for the pillow stilling the headboard, she wasn't sure how he'd stayed on.

She had tears from the exertion, from the satisfaction so abruptly and involuntarily broadcast, from the debate of it all.  How could something so imposed feel so ordained?

She kissed her brother, but didn't know why.

She'd been resisting something foretold, her brother watching her climax from on top.  She'd sometimes thought he'd take her on the sofa, but each time chortled in forestalling the end of their game.  At last he'd felt her thrashing, thrusting and now twitching.

And now he, too, was ready to orgasm, his second victory.  Seeding her was Zak's bounty.  He was little brother again, boasting.  "You know how a dog pisses on a tree proves he's been there?"

"You're so gross," she managed.

"It's like an Easter Egg hunt,"  he taunted.  "But just one egg."

She'd seen the Health Ed. movie of little sperm wiggling their thread-like flagella as they swim into the womb.  Some kids tittered, but she saw the power.  She knew Zak had saved inseminating her so she'd be focused.

Their battle turned to his final triumph.

But at last freed from her own need, she knew that she could expel the little asshole, waste his semen into the air.  Maybe she could grab him and spray his face.  Or smear her tits and make him lick them clean.  That might make him regret stealing into her room!  She could humiliate him more, even make him masturbate.  Yes!  He'd, after all, shown her no respect.  Seize the moment, as her girlfriends would say!

But instead of denial, she delayed beneath his quickening strokes, letting him broadcast within her, accepting each sperm, paying him homage.  Acquiescence ratified his conquest, something a sister would do.

As he pumped, she reflected.  Maybe she should have just let him seduce her on the couch.  It would have been a better fuck, though probably not a better climax.  But then she decided that this little jerk, the one that's fucking her now, will never even get another Hello from her, here on out.  What right did he have, acting like some big stud?  Her orgasm was no credit to him.

Supine though she was, she still controlled her senses.  Unlike herself, he'd probably moan.  She'd at least salvaged that morsel, denying him the audibles.  If a parent heard now, she'd be no better off, so freeing her arm, she covered his mouth.  Plus, she didn't want to hear him describe his accomplishment.

Thinking about his little sperm left her royally pissed, even while trying to prolong their union.  She's mad at him for doing it.  She's mad at herself, too.  Her nipples disappear.

After his last virile throb and she knew the sperm were free to egg-hunt, she bucked him off, again the elder.  "Gotta force the chick, you horny jerk!  That was so pathetic that no girl would let you.  Moaning like a wimp.  I'm telling everybody."  They lay side by side.  "And let go of my tit.  You don't even know how to hold it!"

"Hey, I rode you out," he retorted, a bit of boast.

A wrinkled nose in return.  "Beginner's luck.  Only because you caught me naked, asshole!  I was in a weakened condition," a hint of girlishness.

"Does 'asshole' mean you'll show me how, Ms. sex expert?"

"Forget it, perv-boy.  Now out!  You get another dinky boner thinking about me, you've got your little sock.  And I've got my allies.  We'll fuck you raw both ways, next slumber party.  Just you wait!  We'll give you Kotex for your bleeding butt-hole.  And you'll probably like it because you're a fag.  You wanted to rear-end me, but I stopped you."

She hooked a leg over his, a hint of future rules.  "Better stay here, in case the folks are up."

And in a short while she announced triumphantly, "I was wondering if you had a disability.  Maybe something you caught from your sock."

"So now you're my doctor?  Jeez!"

"Until you get to be older than me."

"And I'm not a beginner," he argued.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire.  You did OK, though, for a know-nothing."  Fact was, she admitted silently, he pretty much knew what he was doing.

"You did OK for a bitch.  Only a lezbo would fight back so much, though," looking at his arm.

"You shouldn't have pinched.  A girl's delicate," delivered with her best pout.

"So is this a better way to hold it?" cupping so that a nipple protruded between his knuckles.

He wouldn't have asked, she realized, if he didn't know.  "A little bit.  It's because I'm remembering the last video, not creepo you.  In the movie, the motorcycle guy kissed each one."

Two kisses, as ordered.  Very nice kisses.

"And one more where he shouldn't, remember?" she added.  "He did it without permission.  Just one, though."

"I'm remembering that video, too."

"Let me guess.  He got smooched, too.  Right?"

"Without permission," Zak added.

"Even Steven," her ruling.

Zak turned to study her pubic hair and at last nuzzled.  When she pushed the back of his head downward, he lipped her labia.  Was that his tongue, she wondered?  What else could it be, slathering her bidding erection?  So how'd he know about a clit?  Most guys, even her age, just thought about vaginas.

Clasping his head between her thighs to preclude escape, she feared smothering him, but his arms locked around the small of her back told her that he was OK.

She pulled his hips directly above her and drew him down until her tongue flicked his rigid boyhood.  She toyed with the idea of squeezing his balls, making him wince, but decided that would be pretty mean.  After all, he was putting his mouth where she liked it.

She let his testicles bounce on her chin before bending his penis mouth-ward.

"Jeez, Zak.  I'm not going to use my teeth unless you try to come," pausing for effect.  "Then you're dead meat."  She rather liked delivering the threat with big-sister authority.

Sucking him in, she traced her tongue around his tip.  "Here we go round the mulberry bush," she tried to hum before she salivated his underside.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill," he tried to recite to her vulva, his chin jabbing her pubic bone on each "J" enough to make her giggle.

"Don't fall, Humpty," but she could already feel his reflexive spasms.

It was far too late when she realized that he'd not cease tingling nubbin until she climaxed.  And she knew that if she came, he'd have to, as well.  The royal jerk, he'd squirt it all over her!

But, Jeez, his tongue!  She tried to assure the head-lock between her calves, but it didn't really matter; she was already ascending.

She was quick enough to have him out of her mouth when she felt him tense.  Most of his explosion landed closer to her breastbone.  Together, they rubbed the wetness against his abdomen.

"You know, Zak, if your stuff dries between us, we'll get glued together and you'll have to explain to Mom why you're on top of me, facing that direction."

"Liar!"

"I'd have to crab-walk us to the bathtub to unstick you."

Lying beside him afterwards, she wondered.  "Actually, maybe you were a little better than a beginner.  D'ja bang some whore?"

He gave his told-you-so smirk.  "Shit no."

"Who, then?"

"Not telling, but she's older than you!"

So be it, his sister decided.  It's probably better not to know.  It screws up friendships.

Looking behind her.  "That pillow still stuck back there?  You can use it," snuggling him beside her.

Not too much before dawn, she awoke, him nested in her arm still, and shook his shoulder.

He blinked, grinned, yawned and reached for her breast.

"Cover your mouth yourself this time because I'll be occupied.  Now flat on your back, boy wonder."

He ignored the covered-mouth bit and grabbed her waist.  "You fall off the bed like a spaz-girl and we're up Shit Creek!"

Siblings to the end.

*****

He had a few scratches and she was sorer than need be.  Both slept soundly in their own beds and argued next morning about who got to finish the granola.  When Mom wasn't looking, he grinned, poked a finger through his toast and wiggled it at his sibling.

She gave him the finger back, no toast involved.  Then she grinned as well, lips pulled around her teeth to form an "O".

She'd not known how much would find itself on the line when he began to remove her sheet.  She'd defended herself well, had no escape.  So what if she paused for him to seal his conquest?  It was a lot more than a tryst.  She knew that her brother could tell.  She loves the little guy.  Always has.  Always will.

To balance the excitement, though, there's a penalty.  It was a couple of weeks before she was assured of no conception.  She wasn't that sure why she'd risked impregnation, but knew that vulnerability was the right culmination.  For all his smart talk, she knew that Zak was worried too.  That's good.

No more porn to frustrate the little jerk.  No more teasing on the sofa.  No more bedroom doors left cracked open for him to spy through.  It was fun being little kids while it lasted.

Now it was a brother whom she'd battled to her very best.  A brother who'd won the first contest and she'd conceded the second.  But she'd make the little prick wear a rubber, here on out.

Of course they'd make love again.  They'd fuck lesser partners.

APRIL

"He won't say it, but I know they did it."  We were talking about knitting maybe being more difficult than advertised, but I knew the subject had shifted to Zak.  We're it anything else, she'd have been specific.

"They grow up on us, I guess," I conceded with little doubt that she knew about Zak's growth.  It just takes more nerve than I've got.  "You OK about it?"  Girlfriends don't keep secrets.

"No," she admitted, "but there were lots of fun parts.  At least I can put all that junk back in my book closet."

I looked her way.  "How so?"

"Class completed," she managed a grin.  "So how do you knit a box pattern, again?"

"Not like that.  You're inventing some sort of knot."ADAPTOR'S SUMMARY

This selection's Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level score is 9.0.  In accordance with the National Educational Policy, ninth grade students will be examined for rote regurgitation of selected passages.

HOLLY ON THE WEB

Wherever you found this story on the web, thank you to the server.  My problem is that I've no systematic way to update the various servers.  As literary errors (or just poor word usages) are made known to me, I'll repair that which is salvageable on http://www.asstr.org/~Holly_Rennick/.  My website's not much graphically, I admit, but HTML isn't my native language.

You can contact me via the site's message form, that HTML code by the smart people at ASSTR.

I won't be changing the story significantly, so if you didn't like it before, that much will remain the same.  But if you did like it, an update may read a bit more cleanly.

   Holly
