Chapter 8

She came over to me and hugged me hard. Then she gave me a kiss that curled my toes.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she moaned into my lips.

“What about Danny?” I asked. He was a guy she’d mentioned in a phone call to Mom, who I’d heard Mom brief Dad on.

“Danny?” She looked surprised. “He’s old news. I’m going with a guy named Paul, now.”

“What about Paul?” I asked.

“I like him, but he’s not you,” she said. “Get in bed. I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t true she couldn’t wait. She waited long enough to get naked and dive down and suck my dick ferociously for five minutes. She actually talked to it, telling it how handsome it was, and how much she’d missed it and that it was her favorite.

That word... “favorite” ... was still flaming red in my mind as she sat on me and just stuffed her pussy full of my cock.

“You said favorite,” I said as she groaned in satisfaction.

“Uh huh,” she breathed, starting to rock.

“That suggests you have others to compare mine with.”

She stopped, and looked down at me.

“Of course I do, Bobby.”

“Oh.”

She leaned down to kiss my nose.

“Don’t be jealous. You know I love you. But you also know I have to find somebody else to love, too.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I still don’t like it.”

She squeezed me with her internal muscles.

“Would it help if I told you I never let anybody but you do this bareback?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask, “So ... how many have there been?”

She sat back up.

“Two,” she said.

“Oh.” I actually felt relieved. I had expected her to say four or five. I knew there must be a hundred guys who hoped to get with her that way. “Wait. I thought you were on the pill.”

“I am,” she said. “But I don’t take chances. Except with you.”

“Oh,” I said. I was still having trouble processing the idea of other guys ... with her.

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not allowed to be mad,” I said.

“You’re allowed to feel however you feel, Bobby,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “I just don’t like feeling this way.”

She leaned back down.

“Would it help if I told you you’re better than any of them?”

“Really?”

She squeezed me again.

“There’s no comparison,” she said. “You make my whole body sing.”

I thought about that for a few seconds. She was a college girl, now. She had access to any guy she wanted, or at least that’s how I thought about it. And yet she was impaled on me. She could have stayed at school for Thanksgiving, stayed there with Paul. But she hadn’t. She’d come home and at least part of that was to be where she was now. Her excitement at getting me in her had been genuine.

I pushed her off of me and she gave a soft yelp of surprise. Then I got over her on all fours between her legs. I stared down at her.

“You’re mine,” I said, softly. I leaned down to suck a nipple briefly. “Your breasts are mine.” I looked down between us at my cock, which was hovering over her pussy lips. “Put me in you,” I said. Her hand moved instantly and guided me. She gave a sigh as I sank all the way in. “Your pussy is mine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“It is,” she panted.

“I know I have to share you, but you’re mine. You’ll always be mine,” I said.

“Yes,” she whispered softly.

“Okay,” I sighed.

Then we made love. I thought about the gift that she was giving me ... her acceptance of my bare penis in her bare vagina ... her willingness to accept my sperm inside her. That meant a lot to me. Sure, she was protected, but I was the only man who got to do that.

But what meant more to me was my own willingness to do that ... to be bare inside her.

Because the thought of her getting pregnant by me was like a beautiful sunlit day, with blue skies.

When we were finished, we cuddled while we caught our breath.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed that,” she said.

“What about the others?” I couldn’t get them out of my mind.

“It’s not the same,” she said. “It’s okay, but not wonderful, like with you.” She blinked a few times. “It’s like the difference between hot dogs and steak.”

“Wow,” I said. “I’m steak!”

“You are,” she said. “So tell me about all the girls you’ve wowed like this.”

“There aren’t any,” I said.

“Aren’t you dating?”

“Oh yeah. I go out on tons of dates. I go out with a different girl every Friday night. There’s lots of making out, and I’ve gotten to third base with some of them, but I don’t try to go all the way. I just can’t do that. The funny thing is that girls actually flirt with me these days. I’ve actually had girls ask me out.”

She started quizzing me. She wanted to know who I’d gone out with and how much we’d made out. She wanted details, like if I’d sucked on their breasts or fingered them. It was like an interrogation or something and I didn’t understand until she completed the inquisition.

“I know what’s happening,” she said. “You’ve gotten a reputation.”

“Reputation,” I repeated.

“Yes. You’ll do as much as the girl wants, but don’t push her to go past her comfort zone.”

“Wouldn’t any guy do that?”

“Not at all. You know how guys used to pressure me. Remember Steve?”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “He got arrested for DUI a while back, maybe a month.”

“Not surprising,” said Hannah. “My point is that most guys push a girl. They still do that at college. It’s like they expect a girl to have sex with them.”

“I get that,” I said. I knew lots of guys who talked about “getting some” or “tapping that” and so on.

“Girls know that and they talk about it. Girls warn other girls when a guy is an asshole. But the girls you go out with report that you don’t push them. They can explore things on a date with you and don’t have to worry about things getting out of hand.”

“As I recall, that’s why you explored things with me,” I said. “You didn’t want to do them with Steve, but were still curious.”

“That’s exactly true,” said Hannah.

“And, as I recall, that led to things like we just did.”

“That was different,” she said.

“How?”

“I fell in love with you.”

“You can’t fall in love with your brother,” I said.

“Of course you can,” she said. “I did, and I am.”

“I’m confused,” I said.

“You mean about the others,” she said. “Think of it like this. I love you but I can’t marry you. That means I have to love somebody else, too, if I want to get married. I can’t have your babies, but I want a family so that means I’m going to have to have some other man’s babies. It would be nice if I loved him when that happens. I haven’t found him yet, but I’m sure there’s a guy out there somewhere who I can love at the same time I love you.”

“That’s crazy,” I said. “That’s not how love works.”

“Why can’t you love two people at the same time?” she asked. “Mom and Dad love both of us.”

“That’s different,” I insisted.

“Is it? If they’d had ten kids they’d love them all, and they’d love them all with all their hearts. By its very nature love can’t be harnessed or confined or regulated. Pretty much everybody else in the world would say you and I can’t love each other, but we do. That’s just the way it is. So why can’t we find others to love and live with and have families with ... and still love each other?”

“I’m pretty sure those others you’re talking about wouldn’t be real happy to find us like this,” I said.

“Of course not. I’m fully aware that loving you like this won’t be an option forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t wish it could be.”

“You make it sound so simple,” I said.

“It is simple,” she said. “At least to me.”

It sounded like a dream to me. But I didn’t want to waste time thinking about all this stuff. She was there, right next to me, with my sperm in her belly. And I wanted to put more sperm there. Hannah, though, wasn’t finished talking about her theory.

“I think what’s happening to you is that you’ve gotten a reputation for being a guy a girl can have lots of fun with, but things won’t get out of control. Like I said, girls talk to each other about guys. Word gets around. The fact that you’re like a butterfly, flitting from girl to girl actually makes you more attractive to some girls, because it means you don’t want to get too serious too fast.”

“If you say so.”

“It will be different when you get to college. If you get a reputation like that there, you’ll have girls crawling all over you to have fun without commitment being on the stormy horizon. You’ll have all the sex you could hope for.”

“I don’t want to just have sex,” I said. “I want to have sex with you.”

“You’ve always been such a sweetie,” said Hannah. “Are you hard again yet?”

“What do they call a female satyr?” I asked.

She got up, kissed her way down my chest and lifted my tired penis off my pubes. She kissed it a few times and sucked the tip. I could feel things happening. When I was fully hard she answered my question.

“They call her Hannah,” she said.

Then she impaled herself again.

This time she stayed on top until the end.

I could write a whole other book on what transpired over the next three years. I’ll give you the Readers Digest condensed version of that part of things. Not that Reader’s Digest would appreciate me using their name in a story like this.

I’m a guy, and guys follow the biological imperative, even when they’re in love with a woman they can’t have. I went out with a lot of girls, and many of them were interesting, funny, mysterious, and a lot of fun to be with. I ended up dating four girls on a fairly regular rotating kind of basis. I didn’t understand it at the time, but Hannah was right. The way I thought about sex in general, and my sister in particular, led me to become the kind of boy that certain girls were very happy to be with. Those four girls wanted a lot ... but not all, in terms of exploring things sexual. They didn’t want a boyfriend who would tie them down. They didn’t want to go all the way. But they wanted to play, and I was the perfect guy for them to play with.

I became an expert at getting a girl off with my fingers and mouth. They became experts at getting me off, though only two of them were willing to use their mouths. We had hot make out sessions that ended with everybody being happy. There towards graduation I think I could have nailed three of them, but I never tried.