Chapter 3

My sister had just asked me if I wanted to push my penis into her scalding hot pussy again. Come on! All those tropes about the pope being Catholic or bears shitting in the woods put together wouldn’t suggest how stupid that question was.

I nodded in the dark, but she must have sensed it, because she spread her legs under me. It wasn’t until then that I realized her legs had been closed while I was thrusting around all over her. When we talked about it later, we decided that it was her closed legs that had guided my penis right to her waiting vagina.

Now, though, she was being intentional, and she spread her legs. She also reached for my pecker and guided it to her opening with her hand. I was not yet recovered enough to be thinking anywhere near normally, and the cave man was clinging to my back. As soon as I felt that heat on the tip, I rammed it in her. What saved things was that her hand wasn’t out of the way, yet, and the knuckles on her fist dug painfully into the tender skin above my penis.

Her groan wasn’t a really happy one, and I sobered up really fast, freezing in the process.

“Easy!” she gasped. She removed her hand and, somehow, I sank into her without trying.

I wasn’t sure what “easy” meant. I could feel my balls hugging the soft skin of her bottom. My whole penis was inside her, as evidenced by the fact that my entire penis was on fire. Some instinct made me want to push even deeper, and as I did that my hips moved sideways because I couldn’t go any deeper.

“Ahhhhhh!” she groaned, and her hips lifted my whole body a couple of inches.

“Should I take it out?” I whined.

“No!” she grunted, and those perfectly painted nails dug into my lower back like Wolverine’s steel claws.

Some automatic impulse in my body somewhere had made me start to withdraw as I asked her if I should take it out. It had gotten me a couple of inches out of her, and now her nails caused me to slam back into her with a force that slapped my hanging balls against her butt.

“Ohhhhh,” she groaned again, her voice deep and vibrating. Her hands didn’t let up, though, so it wasn’t a groan of pain. Her nails, in fact, came out of me and that automatic impulse caused me to pull out of her a couple of inches again. Remembering the pain of Wolverine’s claws in my back, I slammed back in before that happened again, and Emma’s hands came to my waist, her nails sheathed, as she urged me to do that again.

About ten or fifteen short strokes later, my balls blew every bit of my intelligence through my penis and, mixed with a healthy dose of teenage semen and sperm, into my sister’s belly.

Having just cum harder than I ever had in my life, I stopped moving. I wanted to lie down, but I sensed I was heavy on her and I was thinking about rolling off of her when her nails dug into my sides.

“Don’t stop!“ her voice rasped in my ear.

“I have to,” I groaned.

Since she wouldn’t let me roll off, I relaxed, and my full weight bore down on her. Her hands went around me and to my back.

“Please don’t stop, Bobby,” she whined.

Maybe the caveman was listening, because energy seeped back into my body and I stiffened my arms, raising my chest. I could feel that I was going soft, and instinct told me if I pulled out, I wasn’t going to be hard enough to get back in, so I pushed again and, because I couldn’t do anything else, I ground my pubes into her, moving back and forth.

“Yessss,” she hissed.

I kept doing that and, at the very last moment, when I knew I had no more energy in my entire body, she gurgled and gasped and her nails dug into me again, painfully, and I realized she was cumming.

She whimpered, “Oh, Bobby, oh, Bobby, oh Bobby” and her completely stiff body went limp. I did, too, and I knew I was crushing her and smothering her, so with the last of my energy reserves, I rolled sideways. My penis came out of her with a distinctly wet, sucking sound, and I rolled to my back, pulling the covers with me.

We both lay there, just breathing, and it sounded so loud that I was sure it could be heard clear at the other end of the house.

Nobody came rushing in, asking what was wrong, though, and slowly, it got quiet in my room.

“We just had sex,” I mouthed into the darkness.

“We sure did,” came my sister’s voice. I realized I had done more than mouthing it.

“Do you hate me?” I asked. The import of all this was beginning to sink in.

“No,” she sighed.

“What do we do, now?” I asked.

“Kiss me,” she said.

We turned toward each other, moving like old people move when everything hurts, and our lips brushed together. Her arm wiggled under my neck and I rolled half on her again as the kiss deepened.

I realized we were trying to eat each other’s faces, just like they did in the movies, and my mind went off on this odd tangent that imagined that every acting couple that kissed like this had, somehow, had sex just before they shot the scene.

Just as suddenly as the passion had created that kiss, it leached out of us and I rolled back off her.

“I should go to my room,” she whispered.

I felt like that was a terrible idea, and that if she did that, my bed would feel like it was a square acre in size. It would be cold and lonely if she left.

“Can’t you stay?” I whispered.

“Sure, if you want Mom and Dad to find us like this in the morning,” she said, her voice almost at normal level. “Besides, I should probably go sit on the pot for a while.”

“Why?” I asked, inanely. I wondered why she was mentioning her bowel issues at this point in time.

“I felt you shoot your baby seeds in me,” she said. “I should probably let it all drain out of me, don’t you think?”

It was only then that I realized I might have just gotten my little sister pregnant.

There is a somewhat helpless feeling a guy has when his lover leaves his bed and “the relationship” isn’t really spelled out, or solidified. I suspect it’s the same for every guy who has sex with a girl for the first time. There are a lot of unanswered questions, and if she leaves, like Emma did, he is left to wonder about the answers alone. Letting a guy think about relationships alone is never a good idea. I learned this the hard way.

It had been a whirlwind, from the second her hand fell on my naked thigh to the moment she groaned as she sat up, and got out of my bed, naked. By now my eyes used the ambient light from the window as if it were regular bright light. I could see her clearly, and even in the dark, she was beautiful. She was bent over a little and one hand was between her legs. Some part of my mind thought, ‘She’s keeping my baby seeds inside her on purpose,’ which made me feel fantastic, without adding the obvious second part of that thought, ‘until she can get to the toilet to let them all fall out.’

My cock gave a whimper and thought about trying to get hard again, but then sighed and sank back into sleep.

She didn’t say anything, and that’s why I think there were so many questions. If we’d been able to talk about it I could have asked all those questions.

Was she happy?

Was she upset?

Were we ever going to do this again?

Why did she come to my room naked? (She did not pick up any clothes when she left. She just padded out of my room, still nude.)

What had she intended to happen? (I was sure she hadn’t intended for us to have sex.)

What was she thinking right now?

Was she worried about being pregnant?

What did all this mean?

And those are just the questions that rampaged through my mind as she crossed the room and slipped out through my door.

There was still a depression on the pillow her head had been on. I pushed my nose into it and inhaled. Her scent was still there.

My penis was completely numb, so much so that I couldn’t even feel it. I reached to make sure it was still there, and my fingers ran into a wet mess. I imagined rolling over and that mess soaking into my sheets. My mother would undoubtedly see the stain when she washed the sheets.

For the first time I thought maybe I should become responsible for washing my own clothes.

I got up and picked up the shirt I’d dropped so carelessly on the floor. I rubbed my privates dry and then spread it out on the top of the hamper for the moisture on it to evaporate.

I wondered if what we’d done - what was on my shirt - caused a scent to be in the room that would advertise to the next person who came in that something needed to be investigated. I thought about opening a window, but it was cold outside.

Suddenly I was bone tired. At this point I think I didn’t care what happened. I just wanted to go to sleep.

The last thing I did was to set my alarm for six A.M. I wanted to be up and dressed and out of my room before either of my parents woke up.

I wanted them to have no reason at all to open my door or go into my room.

I had dreams all night of Emma opening my bedroom door, and walking into my room naked. Every time she almost got to the bed, everything disappeared in a puff of smoke and the scene started all over again.

The flaw in getting up at six in the morning on a Saturday is that there’s nothing to do at six in the morning on a Saturday.

I had rudimentary breakfast skills, meaning I could pour my own cereal and put the milk in it. I knew where the spoons were. But I had never asked my Mom to teach me how to make pancakes, or fry bacon and eggs. When I was finished eating, it was six-seventeen. I was tired, thanks to staying up late, engaging in wild sex with my sister, and then getting up early. I thought about watching TV, but it seemed odd to do that so early in the morning. Plus it would be noisy. I thought about going for a walk, but then people might search for me, which meant they’d go to my bedroom. I hadn’t smelled anything when I woke up, but I was aware the nose can get used to odors and ignore them.

It was TV or nothing. I was halfway through Terminator 3, with the volume so low I couldn’t hear part of the dialogue, when my mother walked into the living room.

“Please don’t tell me you stayed up all night watching TV,” she said, sounding annoyed.

“I did not stay up all night watching TV,” I said. “I just woke up early and this was all there was to do.”

“I think going back to sleep would be on my list,” she said.

“I wasn’t sleepy. Can you show me how to make pancakes?”

“Where is my son?” asked Mom. “Have aliens abducted him and replaced him with one of their own?”

“Yeah,” I said, “And I’m watching Terminator 3 to learn how to take over the Earth.”

“I’d be happy to teach you how to make pancakes,” she said.

We were right in the middle of that, standing side by side, when she said, “What’s that smell?”

“What smell?” I asked as my heart seized in my chest.

She turned her head toward me, sniffed, and said, “You need to take more showers, Bob.”

“Got it,” I said. “As soon as the batter is done, I’ll go take a shower.”

“Yes,” she said, sniffing again. “Do that. Hygiene is very important when you’re going through puberty.”

I was in the shower, standing under the spray, when the door opened and Emma peered in.

“You never take showers in the morning,” she said.

“Are you insane?” I gasped. Do not ask me why, but I reached to cover my penis and balls with both hands.

“Dad’s still in bed and Mom is making cinnamon rolls,” she said. “She made pancake batter, too.”

“Well, get out of here,” I groaned. “Last night was bad enough. It’s like you want to get caught!”

“Last night was bad?” She did not leave, and her voice had a tone in it that made the hairs try to stand up on the back of my neck. They couldn’t, because of the water hitting them, but they gave it a good try.

“No! Of course not,” I said. “That’s not what I meant. I only meant it was dangerous.”

“Probably not,” she said. She was acting like standing in the open door of the shower while I was engaged in taking one was completely normal.

“Emma,” I said, trying to make my voice sound sincere. “I love you and I loved last night, but you need to leave before somebody sees you looking at your naked brother in the shower.”

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She left and I relaxed.

Talk about what later?

Later turned out to be just before noon, when Mom and Dad said they were going out to eat and asked us if we wanted to go, too.

“I’m really deep into this book,” said Emma. “It’s getting to the good part and I want to finish it. Maybe you could bring me back some takeout?”