I’m writing all this down for one simple reason. Because now, six months later, I still find it hard to believe what has happened between my sister Melissa and me.

I am a young single mother named Katie. My loving husband, Jeffrey, was killed in action in Afghanistan two days after our daughter, Samantha, was born. Because of the of the emotional trauma of Jeffrey’s death, my baby sister, Melissa, moved in with me to help with the baby and other necessary chores. She’s a sixteen-year-old sophomore in high school. I would say that this is basically the prologue of my story.

Missy and I have always been very close. Before I got married, we used to do just about everything together. There’s only five year’s difference between us. That’s probably why we’re close. Mom really never had anything too much to do with raising Missy after age eight.

When she started to go through puberty at 8 1/2, her little nipples started to puff up off the plane of her chest. She came to me crying and said that they hurt. So, I told mom that I needed her credit card and to take us to the mall. I needed to buy Missy some things. We picked out a few cute training bras with lace around the cups to prevent the irritation of her shirts rubbing her sensitive nipples. She came to me when I was fifteen and was in a panic. She’d gotten her period and had blood in her panties. I gave her the “you’re a woman now” talk and instructed her on the use of sanitary napkins. Needless to say, we were pretty close.

Mom used to yell at me because she said I was a bad influence on her. I guess she grew up a little quicker than some, but not too much [IMHO].

All in all, I think I did okay with her. Now, at sixteen, she’ a lovely young woman. Her breasts, at 34C are bigger than mine were before I had Sammy. In fact, I happen to think she’s a very pretty girl.

But, on with my story...

It all started on an extremely hot summer evening during one of those notorious Texas heat waves. For some reason, nights in Texas seem to have been much hotter the past few years. It was early evening, around six, and the outside temperature was with still over 100°. Inside, even with the air conditioning set at 68° it was still around 80°. With it being just the two of us, on days or nights like this, we usually went around the house in just our bra and panties.

Anyway, I have been noticing for the past month or so that Missy has been rather attentive whenever I breastfeed Sammy. I just chalked it up to her probably thinking about when she would one day might breastfeed her child.

Sammy had fallen asleep with my nipple resting in her open mouth. I carefully rose, my breasts still bare, and tucked her into the crib. Then, when I returned to the couch I reached for my bra and began to put it on.

“You’re ... leaking.” Missy softly said, her face expressionless.

I looked down, and indeed, milk was still oozing from my just-sucked nipple. “It does that, honey.” I touched the fluid with a fingertip, making my breast tingle deliciously. I’d usually get a little giddy from nursing; those days, it seemed like I was always aroused. “Mmmmm ... it’s nice and warm, too.” I cooed, smiling up at Missy, and wiped the droplets of warm milk on her lips. She slowly licked her lips and smiled.

Softly, almost a whisper, she said, “It tastes very sweet,”

She giggled nervously, took a small step forward, then froze. It seemed as if she had something she wanted to say.

“What, honey? Did you want to ask me something?”

She actually blushed. Then she crossed her legs together and twisted her upper half from side to side, rolling her eyes exactly like she did when she was nine or ten. “It’s sooo silly!” She said shyly.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure it’s not that silly ... now what?”

“No. You’ll think I was weird.” She looked down at her feet, still crossed.

I said nothing, just waited.

She peered up at me from beneath her auburn brows. I saw her glance at my still-bared breasts.

I looked down again, then up. “Missy?”

“Hmm?” Her slender arms were now folded behind her back.

“Is it about my breasts?”

Missy blushed, bright pink this time, then nodded quickly. “Honey, come here.” She pigeon-toed over, arms still held behind her. She stood almost chest-high to my breasts, resolutely looking me in the eye. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. I felt my bare breast brush across her upper chest, and another rush of pleasure surged through my nipple.

“Missy, you can ask me anything, you know that. Anything at all.” She was staring at my breasts now, her mouth slightly open. “What is it, honey? Hmm?” I touched my nipple again. Mmm, that felt good. “Tell me.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then shyly spoke. “Why doesn’t it, um ... stop leaking when Sammy is, is finished?”

I smiled, loving how it felt when I ran my thumb over the slick nipple, also loving the slightly illicit feeling of fondling myself in front of my sister. Ooh, wicked, I thought. “Well, they don’t know she’s finished, you see. My breasts still have more if she wants it.”

Missy looked at my breast, at my fingers brushing my nipples. She looked up at me again, and I could see, yes, she looked... hungry.

At that moment I realized something I hadn’t before: how often Missy seemed to be nearby when I was feeding her niece, as if she were fascinated by the sight: me, half-naked and cradling the baby to my breast, Sammie’s sucking mouth fastened to an engorged nipple, drinking her fill of my sweet milk.

A tendril of excitement spun through me — and a wild idea popped into my head. Really wild.

“Missy?” I looked sideways at her, barely able to believe I was going to do this. “Do you want to taste some more?”

Oh, what a precious reaction. I watched her eyes open, dilate, flutter; her mouth opened, she took a deep breath as if elated, but not wanting to let it show. She smiled slightly, started to nod as she swallowed and licked her lips.

“Come, honey.” I sat down on the couch, put my arms around Missy and drew her in to me, placing her between my legs.

I lifted my round, ripe breast to her mouth. “Here,” I murmured, “Go ahead...”

Missy leaned in slightly and touched her lips to my nipple. She looked up at me, then took the tip of my breast into her warm mouth.

And she began to suckle. Oh my, she did. And the difference between being nursed by Missy and Sam was so urgently sexual. Missy’s mouth sucked hard. Tenderly, but hard. And I felt my milk flow so deliciously into my little sister’s mouth.

Ohhhhh God yes, it was so good ... like being made love to.

I watched Missy’s eyes close contentedly as she drank, purring with pleasure. And as she did, her hips shifted and wriggled, her body tightly pressed against my panty clad pussy.

Mmmmmm, yes. I was already incredibly aroused, and I realized, with a mixture of concern and joyous abandon, that my little sister was going to make me come.

I tried not to let it show, but did, perhaps unconsciously, trail my hand down to her bottom to pull her hips and body more firmly against mine.

And Missy was feeling something more herself because her suckling became a bit fiercer, and she seemed to be grinding herself into my throbbing sex, her clit against my pubic bone.