Chapter 4

We lay there recovering for maybe ten minutes. I sat up and saw that her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly. She looked too much like she had for the last six months, and it scared me.

"Heather?" I asked in a whisper.

Her head turned an inch and then came back. "Mmmmm?" she hummed.

"You okay?" I asked, relief in my voice.

"Tired," she muttered.

"Okay," I responded. I didn't know what else to say.

I got up quietly and tiptoed from the room. I was pretty frazzled. I looked at the clock in the kitchen and realized that it had only been about an hour and a half since she woke up from the coma. I sat down on a kitchen chair, which felt cold to my naked butt, but I didn't care. I looked down at my cock. It looked the same, but it wasn't. It had been in Heather's mouth. It had spurted in her hand. It would never be the same again.

I don't know whether it was her talking about being able to think with no distractions, or just because I couldn't think of anything to distract myself with, but I sat there and thought about everything that had happened. Her waking hadn't turned out to be anything like what I'd envisioned. Truthfully, I hadn't envisioned her waking at all, and that bothered me now. It hadn't then. What had happened had happened, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

But now I knew that there had been something I could do about it. I just didn't know it then. I didn't even know it while I was doing it.

It was very confusing, because what I had thought I was doing all wrong ... had turned out to be the right thing to do.

I tried to wrap my mind around the concept of Heather wanting to do things with me ... like I wanted to do with her. It was impossible ... until I realized it had been impossible for me to feel that way about her until three or four days ago. So much had changed in such a short amount of time!

I heard her voice and stood up so suddenly that my cock flopped up and down. I was suddenly embarrassed to go in to her room naked, but that seemed really stupid, so I went anyway.

"There are all these tubes sticking in me," she complained.

"Welcome back to the real world," I said. Based on what her life had been like, I didn't think she should be complaining all that much.

"Take them out," she ordered. Now she was starting to sound like the old Heather.

"I'm not jerking things out of your body that a doctor put there," I said. "We need to call Mom and Dad. They need to know you're awake."

She sat up in bed. Her breasts wobbled and I felt my cock react.

"As long as you understand about our new relationship," she said.

I stood there staring at her. "Of course I don't understand it," I said, exasperated. "You just woke up two hours ago and instead of being mad at me for having incestuous thoughts about you, you sucked my..." I couldn't say it. It just sounded nasty and what she had done hadn't been nasty at all. It had been loving. "I love you." I said instead.

"I know you do, and I love you too. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"And you understand that what happened is going to happen again? I mean I want it to happen again. This is all new to me too, but I want to be able to do things with you."

"What kind of things?" I asked. Then I wondered why I'd been stupid enough to tie her down.

"I don't know yet," she said. "I mean there are some things we probably shouldn't do ... you know?"

I nodded because my throat was really dry all of a sudden.

"I was afraid I wouldn't like sucking your cock, but I did, and I want to do it again. And I can think of other things too. The point is I don't know what's going to happen between us, but I have to know that you're in this with me, because when Mom and Dad get back it's going to be hard for us to do anything at all."

"I get that," I croaked.

"Kiss me again and then you can call Mom."

I kissed her. Somehow I ended up lying on the bed, half on top of her while I kissed her. Her breast felt hot pushed against my chest. When I stopped kissing her I sort of couldn't help kissing my way down to the other breast and sucking on the nipple a little.

"Shit," she moaned.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked. I'd been sucking kind of hard.

"No. Maybe it's a good thing something is stuck up in me after all."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because if it wasn't I'd probably let you fuck me, and that's something we shouldn't do."

She said it so easily that I was suddenly horrified that somebody else had fucked her. I reared up on one elbow.

"Who fucked you?" I asked harshly. "I'll kill him!"

She looked shocked, but then smiled. "Nobody fucked me," she said seriously. "I'm a virgin. I can't believe my little brother is jealous."

"I'm not jealous," I said. I was relieved, not jealous, right?

"Yes you are and it makes me want to let you fuck me even more. I know it will be fantastic when you do. And it will be you who takes my cherry, Bobby. I promise you that. But not now. Maybe in a few years. I owe you that."

"You don't owe me anything," I said, not liking the idea that she might do anything out of a sense of obligation. Her wanting to do things with me was what made it so incredibly special.

"I owe you everything," she said softly. "You don't know what it was like. It was so easy to just stay there, where nothing bothered me, and I could think about whatever I wanted to. I didn't want to leave very often, and when I did it was easy to give up when I couldn't find my way. I'd rather be here, Bobby, but I didn't know it until you made me want to be here." She grinned, like she was trying to break a mood that was too serious. "Oh looky! You're all stiff again!"

She said she was too tired, so she had me beat off until I was close. Then she took over and pulled me towards her and clamped her lips over the head. She sucked at exactly the same time as my first spurt rocketed into her mouth and I thought my whole body was going to shrivel up and shoot out of my dick. She was still holding my cock when there wasn't anything left in me and she took her mouth off. She kind of munched on nothing and swallowed.

"It's nothing like I thought it would be," she commented. "It's bitter in a funny, nice way. Do you like it when I suck it?"

"Are you crazy?" I croaked.

She smiled. "Well, I like doing it, so that's good. I want to cum again, but I'm sore down there. I hate that tube. It isn't fair."

"I wish I could do something," I said, feeling helpless.

"You could pull it out," she suggested.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," I said.

"Then call Mom and tell her I want you to pull it out. If she says it's okay then you can do it."

We were both teenagers ... with a slightly flawed concept of reality. What can I say?

I went to the phone. It didn't occur to me until my mother's voice said "Hello? Bobby? What's wrong?" that I was talking to my mother while I was stark naked.

I never got to convey Heather's request to be unburdened of her catheter to our mother. That's because Mom completely freaked out when I told her Heather was awake. There was screaming and I had to pull the phone away from my ear or be deafened, so when she calmed down I missed some of what she said, which made it confusing to both of us when I tried talking again. She asked me about a thousand questions, most of which I couldn't answer. I could have told her why Heather chose that particular time to come out of it, but decided that a little mystery was better than the truth.

I kept asking what we should do and she kept saying "I don't know!" Then she'd usually ask "How is she?" Finally I suggested that she talk to her herself. There was a spate of "Can she do that?" and then "The phone won't reach in there." Rather foolishly I said Heather could come to the phone. Her legs were too weak, though, and I had to pick her up off the floor. She said nothing hurt, but I felt bad. When I got back to the phone and said Heather couldn't make it after all, Mom freaked again.

"I'm leaving now!" she yelled.

"Calm down, Mom," I said urgently. "We're fine. She's just a little weak. Don't get in a crash because you're trying to get home too fast."

"I'm leaving now!" she yelled again. "Don't do anything! No! Call 911! I'm leaving now!"

Her phone disconnected and I knew she'd closed it. If I called back I'd just get more of the same. She firmly believed that it was talking on a cell phone that had put Heather in the coma, and she refused to even turn hers on when she was in the car. I felt sorry for her, because I knew kind of how she felt. Kind of.

I went back and told Heather what she'd said.

"Maybe the paramedics will take the tubes out," she said. "Call them."

We were both teenagers ... with a slightly flawed concept of reality. What can I say?

We were smart enough to clean her up and get her back into her PJs before calling 911. I got dressed too. We tried to clean my spooge off the comforter, but there were still some spots left. I hoped nobody would notice.

"911, what is your emergency, please?"

"My sister just woke up."

"This is 911, young man. It's a crime to make prank calls to 911," said the woman in a stern voice.

"No," I said hastily. "She was in a coma. She's been in a coma for six months, but she just woke up."

"Where are you, young man?" asked the woman.

"I'm at home," I said, confused.

"Your sister was in a coma ... at home," she said sarcastically, "and she just woke up."

"Exactly," I said.

"It's a violation of civil criminal code to make prank calls to 911, young man," she said again. "I show your phone as being located at 2140 Elm Circle. What is your name, young man?"

"My name is Bobby!" I shouted. "She wants me to pull the tubes out of her arm and pu..." I took a breath. "you know ... down there. So can I do that?"

"What?"

"She has a feeding tube in her arm," I said. "She's hungry and wants me to take her to the kitchen to get her something to eat. Can I pull her feeding tube out? And that catheter thing between her legs that goes to the bag?"

"No!" shouted the woman. "We'll send somebody right over, but this better not be a prank!"

The ambulance arrived in full glory, with lights and siren going full blast. A man and a woman got out. The woman opened the back and pulled this folding metal table thing out while the guy ran up towards the front door carrying two suitcases. I took him to Heather, who was sitting up on the edge of the bed, trying to look perky and fully recovered.

They took her vitals and asked us what happened about a dozen times. We told them what had happened a dozen times too. They only asked us where our parents were three or four times. Heather asked them to take the tubes out, but of course they wouldn't. That would have been too easy. Instead they called somebody on their cell phone. It was decided that Heather needed to be seen by a doctor, and since doctors don't make house calls any more, they decided to take her to the hospital. Then there was the problem of who was going to authorize all this. They didn't even look at me. Heather wasn't old enough. We gave them Mom's cell phone number and they called it, but she didn't answer. I told them her phone was probably off. They didn't seem to think that was normal. So then they wanted to call Dad.

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