Chapter 4

“You can’t have my baby,” I groaned.

We were dressed, again, though all she had on was one of my T shirts and all I had on was running shorts.

“I know that,” she said, her voice reasonable. “Not yet.”

“You can’t ever have my baby!” I yelped.

“Of course I can,” she said, just as reasonably. “All you have to do is get your sperm in me at the right time and I’ll get pregnant.”

“I know that,” I gasped. I felt like my blood pressure must be high enough that a stroke was imminent. “We can’t let that happen!”

“Not now,” she said, calmly.

“Not now, not later, not ever!” I grunted.

“We’ll see. It’s much too soon to be talking about that, anyway. I need to get my degree first and you need to have a job before we do that.”

“Oz, you’re talking crazy,” I said. “If you get pregnant, Mom and Dad will kill me!”

“If you got me pregnant now, they’d kill you,” she agreed. “But in three or four years, we’ll have been out of the house long enough that they can’t say anything about it when it happens.”

“Of course they can say something about it!” I argued. “Incest is against the law, Oz. They could have me thrown in jail!”

“Not if they don’t know it was you,” she argued back. “I want to have your baby some day, but I know only you and I will know you’re the father. I’ll just tell them it was some random guy I was dating. They’ll be upset because I’m not married, but they won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“You’re insane,” I sighed.

“I’m in love,” she countered. “Get that through your head, Bobby. I know I can’t marry you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t live with you and have a family.”

“You said babies, as in plural,” I said. “How are you going to explain that you were stupid with some random guy more than once?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said. “Now. I’m starved. That was way more work than I thought it would be. You want a piece of pie?”

“Pie,” I sighed. “We just turned the world upside down and you can think about pie?”

“I can!” she said, brightly. “I need to go online, too, to see if there are any recommended remedies for a sore pussy. I don’t want to be sore when we go to bed tonight.”

I looked at her like she’d grown a third eye, but she was already headed for the kitchen. When I got there she was cutting the pie into wedges. She’d obviously put the filling in the crust when she took it out of the oven and then put that in the fridge.

I have to admit, it was good pie.

She was hunched over the laptop, taking a forkful of pie every once in a while, while still staring at the screen and clicking with the mouse.

I was halfway through a second piece of pie when she padded into the kitchen.

“Do we have any zip lock bags?” she asked.

“Third drawer down,” I said, pointing at the cabinet under the counter.

She got one out and got out the ice cube trays I’d filled a couple of hours earlier. The cubes weren’t frozen solid, but she was able to get something cold in the bag.

“The internet says icing it down will help,” she said. “It also says a few hours without sexual activity will make things all better.”

“You’re going to put an ice pack on your pussy?” I said.

“Not directly on it,” she said. “I’ll wrap the bag in something. I have some reading to do for Psychology. I’ll do that while I cool down what you got all hot.”

“Aliens have taken my sister away and put somebody else in her place,” I groaned.

She came to embrace me.

“I’m still your sister, she said.

“That’s the problem,” I replied.

“The only thing that’s changed is that I don’t have to hide what I feel for you anymore. I’m still just Oz and you’re still just Bobby. Yes, we’re going to have sex - a lot of sex - but nothing else has changed.”

“Everything has changed, Oz,” I moaned.

“You’re just stressed out about this,” she said. She pulled my head down for a kiss. It was quite mild, compared to the ones we’d recently engaged in. “Calm down. Breathe. Everything will be all right.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Well I do. Now, go do something. I need to read and cool down my poor, sore pussy.”

“Think about what you just said,” I commented. “Think about you, Oz Hoskins, saying that to me, Bobby Hoskins ... your brother ... and tell me things aren’t weird.”

She blinked.

“You’re right,” she said.

I relaxed a little.

“I should have said, ‘Bobby? Will you help me ice down my pussy, please? I can get all comfortable with my book and then you can put the ice pack where it needs to be.’ Yup, if I’d said that then things wouldn’t be so weird.”

She made me do it. She treated her nudity like it was the norm and spread her legs shamelessly for me to “treat her.” She said it was my fault, anyway, because I’d caused it.

But the odd thing was that, by treating her nudity so overtly, it actually seemed like it was normal.

I got a good look at her pussy for the first time. Her pussy lips weren’t tight or firm. They looked like my balls look on a hot day. They’re still balls and they’re still in the sack, but they look as relaxed as they are. Her lips looked like that. They were pale, but not colorless, as if a dark shade of pink lipstick had been used on them. As I hovered over her I noticed that the reddish looking place was above her pussy, on her lower mons. I leaned closer and saw a hair sticking to her skin. Neither of us had taken a shower after we had sex. Food had been more important at that point.

It made no sense for there to be a hair there, especially a relatively long one. It was maybe half an inch long and curled against her skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her head was propped up again and her textbook was on her stomach.

“There’s a hair right...” I pointed and touched her mons, “there.”

“There better not be. I shaved especially for you.”

“Oh?” I looked at her eyes. “What made you think I like shaved pussies?”

“I used to sneak into your room to look at your stash of magazines,” she said. “They all seemed to have bald pussies in them.”

“You little sneak!” I said in mock anger. “I should spank you.”

“There you go, talking about spanking again. Marlene Jeffries says she knows a girl who loves it when she gets spanked during sex. And no, she didn’t say who it was.” She stared at me over the tips of her breasts. “I’m not so sure I’d like that. If I want to try that I’ll let you know.”

“If I spank you it will be because you deserve to be spanked and you won’t have anything to say about it.” I grinned. “Except ‘ow’.”

“Did you like the sex we had not so long ago? Because if you did, you’ll never spank me against my will,” she said. Her face was calm and firm.

“I doubt there will come a time I need to spank you,” I said, backing off without seeming to back off. “If you get slutty with boys I might, though.”

“Why would I get slutty with boys?” she asked. “I have you to get slutty with.”

“Oz, you still have to go on dates, or at least make some male friends. It will seem odd if you don’t. You need to be able to tell Mom and Dad that you’re dating and just haven’t found the right guy.”

“I know,” she said. “I’d much rather spend the evening at home with you, like this.” She bumped her hips upwards. “You gonna put the ice on my poor, sore pussy or not?”

I looked at the hair again and tried to pick it up. It was stuck to her skin with a crusty kind of glue I realized was my dried semen. That was when I saw the little crisscrossed reddish lines all over the bulge of her mons. If that hair hadn’t been there I’d have been mystified.

“You know what?” I said, scraping the hair off with my fingernail. I picked it up and put it in front of her face. “I think I know why you’re sore. Hang on. I’m going to do an experiment.”

I ran a finger between her labia and pushed it back and forth, so each lip moved.

“Is that sore?” I asked.

“No. It feels funny, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“How about this?”

I rubbed two fingers over the hump of her mons.

“Yes!” she said. “It’s not as bad as it was, but that’s where it hurts.”

“I think my pubes cut you while I was grinding on you,” I said.

“Then you need to shave, too,” she said. “If you shave that won’t happen again and we can make love for hours at a time.”

“Guys don’t shave,” I snorted.

“Why not? I mean if we were still in high school and you had to take showers in front of your friends, I’d get it. But nobody’s going to see if you have hair down there or not. You need to shave so I don’t get sore again, Bobby.”

Things were getting weirder and weirder. Not only was I in what looked like was going to be an ongoing fuck fest with my own sister, now she was talking about my pubic hair and how it might make her unhappy.

“I know how to shave my chin,” I said. “I’m not sure those skills will transfer down there where there’s stuff in the way.”

“I can do it,” she said. “I’ve been shaving since I was a junior in high school. I can do it with my eyes closed. I don’t think you will offer a huge challenge.”

“Not until you cut off my penis,” I said.

“I love your penis,” she said. “I’d never cut it off. I won’t even nick it. I’ll teach you how to shave me and I’ll shave you and we’ll keep ourselves nice and soft so we can fuck like bunnies, except for hours and hours at a time.”

“I don’t know about hours,” I sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I kind of like cumming in you.”

“Why would you hate to admit it? I love it when you cum in me. It makes me feel so special. I get to have part of you inside me that no other girl gets to have.”

“I have to keep dating, too,” I said. “Even if it’s just for appearances.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be in a position to cum in them!” she snapped.

“It’s kind of ... expected ... at frat parties,” I caged. “Why do you think I didn’t want you to go to one? And why do you think I went looking for you when I couldn’t see you?”

“I admit I was a teensy bit bull-headed since I got here,” she said. “I couldn’t think of a way to get you in bed with me and it was driving me crazy. I may have acted out a little.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Whatever,” she said, flippantly. “My point is that if I’m not going to have sex with other guys, I don’t think you should have sex with other girls.”

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Blackmailed Brother

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