Chapter 3

Apparently paying attention to driving allows one’s erection to finally wilt. I was soft when I parked the car.

She got out and went in without saying a word. She went to the kitchen, presumably to finish baking a pie to thank her shining knight with.

I’d found an old overstuffed chair on the curb at the frat house and brought it back to my place. It was comfortable, if a little beaten up.

“Key lime!” she yelled from the kitchen.

“That’s fine,” I yelled back.

I had a decision to make. If I went one way, she probably should move out. I could imagine living with a girl I was lusting for, but who I knew would never do anything with me. That hadn’t happened to me, but it wasn’t hard to conceptualize that I’d be miserable. She’d probably get over it. I mean it was her first crush, you know?

But she’d get over it by herself and who knew what hijinks she’d get up to while she replaced me as her fantasy lover.

The thought of her coming on to other guys made my blood boil.

And that’s what led me to the other potential path.

Giving in.

If I gave in ... what then? That picture in my mind was out of focus, but involved a beautiful naked girl with a naked guy. It was the kind of picture you wish wasn’t out of focus because you could tell the fuzzy naked girl ... and naked guy she was with ... were doing something interesting. Fascinating. Enthralling. Captivating.

I brought up the image of her breasts, with their rosy caps. I knew what I’d do with them. That wasn’t fuzzy or out of focus at all. I tried to imagine her bush ... or lack of it. I hadn’t ogled that because it made me feel guilty to even think about looking. Her breasts were impossible to ignore but the rest I’d tried to be circumspect about.

The fuzzy picture got clearer, enough that I could tell he was leaning back, like on a couch, and she was on top of him. Their faces were close together. For a kiss? Was he in her?

I realized I was hard again.

Fuck!

I admitted to myself that that fuzzy picture was Oz and me. We were about to kiss and I was in her.

There was a clatter from the kitchen. I got up. I went to the kitchen door and stood there, leaning against it. My bone was making a tent in my pants again but I didn’t adjust it.

I just looked at her, stirring something pale in a bowl. She had a nice ass and it jiggled just a little bit as she stirred. I went to stand beside her.

“You know, if we do this, and it doesn’t work out, it’s going to fuck everything up between us,” I said.

She stopped stirring and set the bowl down. Then she turned to me and put her arms around my neck.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.

“Not like that, you idiot,” she said. “Kiss me. We should know pretty quickly how things will work out if we kiss.”

So I kissed her. It had been a while since Shantelle, who was a dynamite kisser, by the way, which might be why I kissed Oz like she was Shantelle.

And she kissed me back, with tongue, and I knew right then and there I was lost. We were going to do it.

I was going to fuck my sister.

I do not know how long that kiss went on. I really don’t. I wouldn’t even make an estimate. She was the one who finally pulled her lips away. Her arms were now fully around me and her soft-yet-hard body was pressed firmly to mine.

“I knew it would be good,” she breathed.

“We’re in a lot of trouble, here,” I moaned.

“No we’re not. This is the way things are supposed to be. It’s fate.”

“It’s not fate. It’s the fact that my little sister has perved out on me.”

“You weren’t fighting to get away from that kiss,” she said. “I think you liked it.”

“Okay, I did. I admit it. While you were perving on me I was perving on you.”

“Perfect!” she said with a grin.

“What if somebody finds out?” I asked.

“How would they? We’re not getting another roommate. Whatever we do will be in the privacy of our own home. Neither of us is Catholic.”

“Catholic?”

“Confession,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Now, stop pestering me. I have a pie to finish.”

“Me? I’m pestering you?”

“I cannot make a pie with you all over me. Go do something else.”

I realized my arms were firmly around her, too, and let go. I stepped back. She looked down at the tent.

“Don’t do anything with that,” she said, pointing one manicured fingernail at my bulge.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to work on that when I get finished,” she said.

She made shooing motions.

“Go! Be gone! Depart. Take a shower.”

“Take a shower?”

“Yes. I’m going to lick you all over.”

“Fuuuuck,” I groaned.

She grinned.

“We might do that, too. Maybe. We’ll see.”

They say anticipation is half the fun. That’s what slinky lingerie is all about. The woman gets all dressed up for the sole purpose of then getting un-dressed. Foreplay is based in biology, in terms of getting both persons ready to mate, but foreplay can be extended to create anticipation.

I wasn’t enjoying any anticipation, though, because my mind was a mess. It was going to happen! Was I ready? Would I be able to perform? She was a virgin. What if I did it wrong and hurt her? What if she bled and I had to take her to the ER? Did I have a condom?

I went to my bedroom and ransacked it, looking for a condom.

Nothing.

I went back to the kitchen and leaned in.

“Sorry to bother you, but I need to go buy some condoms. I can’t find any.”

She looked over her shoulder at me.

“No.”

“No?” I blinked. “Do you have some?”

“No.”

“Then...”

She cut me off.

“The first time has to be all natural. It’s the way I’ve always envisioned it. I want to be as close to you as possible, and the closest thing you can do is leave part of you in me.”

“Oz, if you get pregnant, this will all blow up.”

“I’m not going to get pregnant. Not right now. It’s the wrong time of the month for that.”

“You know those Catholics you mentioned? They use the rhythm method. Have you ever noticed how big their families are?”

“They’re married. They make love frequently, a lot, all the time, and sometimes that means they do it at the wrong time. We’re not going to do that.”

She sounded so sure that her confidence infected me.

“Okay,” I said.

“Did you take a shower?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Then wait.”

“Now you want me to wait?”

She gave me what could only be called a smoldering look.

“I’ll take one with you. I want you to lick me all over, too.”

I stood there, just outside the kitchen. My ears heard the soft sounds she was making as she put the crust in the oven to bake and finished stirring the filling, but my mind couldn’t concentrate on anything except what she’d said was about to happen. It was surreal because I felt like I had in the past, when I was going out with a girl and thought I might get lucky. It wasn’t like when I knew I was going to be with Shantelle, and knew we’d have sex. That was what twisted things up in my mind, because I knew I was going to have sex with my sister, except I still couldn’t believe it was real.

I thought back to her hand on my cock, in the middle of the night. I had thought that was accidental, a product of some dream she was having, but now I knew she’d done it on purpose. The world I had thought I was living in had become a different world, somehow. Like I’d stepped into a different dimension.

Then, suddenly, she was there, standing right in front of me.

“We can’t start yet,” she said. “The crust only has to be in there for a little while, and I don’t want to rush things. Can you wait a little longer?”

My mind jangled. Could I wait? Sure. I could wait. I wasn’t even sure, at this point, if I could get hard! I wasn’t hard then. It was the first time in my life where it was possible I was going to have sex and wasn’t already hard!

She knelt in front of me and her hands went to my belt, and then the button that held my jeans closed. I just stared at the top of her head as she tugged my pants down about ten or twelve inches.

“There you are,” she cooed to my penis. “I can’t play with you too much right now, but I will soon.”

Her fingers manipulated my dick and I stared at it. It was hard! It wasn’t rock hard, but it was at least half awake. She leaned forward to kiss the tip and I actually saw it stiffen more. Her hand gripped and moved, peeling the foreskin back off the head.

“I’ve wanted to see you for a long time,” she said, still talking to my penis. “You look different than I expected, but you’re still very handsome.”

She looked up at me.

“I’ve never done this before. You’ll have to help me ... teach me. I want this to be perfect for you.”

With that she leaned forward and put her mouth on it, sealing her lips just behind the crown, where the thickness lessened. She gave a tentative little suck and I gasped. She pulled off instantly and looked up again.

“Don’t cum yet,” she ordered.

“Okay,” I gasped, weakly.

She stood up, leaving my pants around my thighs.

“I need to check the crust. You go get the shower started. Make it warm, but not hot, okay?”

“Uh huh,” I said. My voice sounded strange to my ears.

“I’ll be right there,” she said. “Five minutes, max, okay?”

“Uh huh,” I wheezed again.

She turned and went back into the kitchen. I had moved ten feet before I thought to reach and pull my pants back up.

I don’t actually remember getting the water running and adjusting the temperature, but I know I did it because it was going when she got there.

She arrived stark naked. She must have taken her clothes off in the hallway.

“You’re still dressed,” she said. I felt chastised. She frowned and, suddenly, the last thing I wanted was for my little sister to be unhappy with me. I tore at my clothes and almost tripped as I got my jeans to my ankles and they got hung up on my shoes. I hobbled to the toilet and sat down to get my shoes off. When I stood, I was as naked as she was.

“I love you, Bobby,” she said, looking at me with serious eyes.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” I said. “I have no fricking idea what’s going to happen. I feel like this isn’t even real.”

“It’s real,” she said. “I’ve waited so long and now I’m impatient to get what I’ve wanted all those years. But I don’t want to hurry. I want to savor it.”

“Okay,” I said.

She got into the shower and held the curtain open, staring at me. I finally was able to concentrate on what she looked like. Her pink nipples were stiff and looked so long that, if she’d been wearing a shirt, they’d look almost pornographic. She was standing at an angle, waiting for me, but I could still tell she was as bald as a baby’s butt, between her legs. I couldn’t see her pussy lips and I found myself leaning, trying to change the angle so I could see them.

“Are you coming?” she asked. There was just a hint of impatience in her voice.

I think what made this situation so different was because our roles had been reversed. She was making the decisions, telling me what to do. I, the older one, who had always been in charge in the past (at least until she started blackmailing me), was just floating along on a river I still didn’t know how I’d gotten into. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this with my sister, but that knowledge was far in the back of my mind, shoved there by the immediacy of what she was orchestrating.

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Blackmailed Brother

Lubrican

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