ARCHIVE: the-first-time.Z (alt.sex.stories)
~From: mksmith@taproot.win.net (Michael Kalen Smith)

===============================================================
                            The First Time
                    [...from a novel in progress...]


   Alex and I went through a period of anxiety and self-doubt
between Christmas and the New Year. In barely a week, I would be 16
and she 15 -- old enough to marry in some states with parental
consent. Our relationship had evolved so gradually that neither of
us had felt any pressure about it. It was like taking a slow stroll
through rising hills and coming abruptly to a halt at the brink of
an unexpected chasm. We suddenly were realizing just how high we
had climbed. In less than a single year, our physical relationship
had progressed from separate masturbation, to jerking off in
company, to making out like any other teenagers, to *really* making
out, to mutual oral sex. And after Alex's episode with Patty, the
only thing it seemed we hadn't done was The Deed itself.

   As long as Alex was still technically a virgin, regardless of
the amount of sex play we indulged in, perhaps we thought we could
continue to pretend that this was all just fun and affectionate
games. But we understood now that soon, very soon, we would no
longer be able to restrain ourselves. The sex play wouldn't be
enough. Though we didn't discuss it in so many words, we both
wanted very badly to spend an entire night fucking ourselves into
exhaustion. Moreover, the opportunity was there every day and the
lingering fear of taking that final step was dissipating. What were
we going to do?

   It all came to a head the third week in December. We were lying
in her bed, naked, our bodies pressed hungrily together. My hands
were squeezing and stroking her ass and her hands were manipulating
my penis and my balls. We both were breathing hard. My cock was an
inch away from where I knew it belonged, and I wanted so badly to
slip it into that warm, moist opening! And I was convinced that
Alex wanted me inside her, too. I knew I wasn't the only one torn
by physical desire when I gradually became aware that my sister's
body was shaking from some emotion other than lust.

   Her face was buried against my chest and I had to pull back to
see that she was sobbing in frustration. Her face was flushed and
she looked terribly unhappy. I pulled her close to me again and
cuddled her head beneath my chin and stroked her back.

   Her fingers tried to kneed my chest. "I'm sorry, Michael. I just
don't think I can stand it any longer. I WANT YOU! Making love like
this without *really* making love is driving me crazy!"

   God, I wanted her, too. But I was worrying about it a lot
lately, just as she was. I knew what "incest" was -- we both had
read quite a lot about its perils and traumas. But the cases we
read about had seemed to involve mostly young girls trying to deal
with forced relationships by much older male relatives, whether
father or brother, and that certainly didn't apply to us.
Consenting sibling incest, if it was discussed at all, was seldom
analyzed or tracked for its social and psychological consequences.
No one approved of it, of course -- most of the books we had read
through didn't seem to approve of sex at all -- and again, there
was always the assumption of a forced relationship.

   We had found one case study in a popular magazine and read it
together several times, trying to make sense of it. It concerned a
couple in their late 20s who had met through friends, begun dating,
and fallen in love. They had seemed almost magnetically drawn to
each other from the first and they planned to be married in due
course. Then the woman, who was an adoptee searching for her
biological family, finally uncovered explicit information about her
long-lost siblings, all of whom had been adopted out to different
families at a very young age -- and there on the list of names was
the man with whom she was in love. Alex and I both thought this a
terrible tragedy -- to gain a sibling at the expense of losing a
lover and spouse-to-be -- but the couple in the magazine article
had immediately shifted gears and romantic love seemed to instantly
transform itself into traditional filial devotion. Neither of us
could quite believe that the couple had been able to undergo such
a radical emotional transformation without severe psychological
disturbance. Or were most people really such slaves to a primarily
European tradition?

   We didn't know, but it was frightening. And it was the most
important reason that we went to such lengths to keep our own
relationship secret. As brother and sister, we were utterly devoted
to each other. But as members of the opposite sex, we were deeply
in love. And not puppy love, either.

   I had a couple of acquaintances who had gone through a "crush"
phase with an older brother or sister. They laughed about it later
or maintained an embarrassed silence. We had also read the theories
of psychologists who argued that siblings went through a stage of
infantile sexual attraction which they were physically unable to
fulfill, so that the attraction turned to active rejection of each
other as possible sex partners by the time they reached puberty.
That sounded like crap to us, and it certainly didn't fit our own
case.

   We also knew the hoary old biological arguments -- that children
born of incestuous relationships were likely to be congenital
idiots with two heads, or worse. We knew *that* wouldn't wash. The
human gene pool was much too large for common parents in one
generation to be statistically significant.

   So we weren't in a situation of child abuse, and there was no
valid biological argument that we could see. Incest was simply a
taboo, inherited from Neolithic ancestors with a different survival
agenda. And we lay there in bed, holding tightly to each other,
both of us in tears now, feeling conspired against by society. Our
relationship, emotional and otherwise, was certainly different --
we recognized that. But did that make it "wrong"? Maybe we were
*ahead* of the pack in terms of evolution. Maybe many other sibling
couples felt as we did but were afraid of departing so far from the
norm, or thought themselves depraved. Perhaps we shared a common
insanity. Or was everybody *else* nuts? After awhile, we found
ourselves sprawled on Alex's bed in conversational mode, still
naked, but not feeling very sexually aroused at the moment. The
tears had gone but the depression hadn't.

   "Michael, what it comes down to is whether we're going to listen
to ourselves or to the rest of the world. Do we want -- do we
*need* -- each other badly enough to tell everyone else to go to
hell?"

   "But we're still minors, Alex. Unless we ran away, the State
would keep us apart if they found out. We'd both probably end up in
the nut house, under shock treatment. Remember the ending of
"Cuckoo's Nest"? And you know we're not going to drop out of school
and run away from home. We'd make lousy hippies. I think all we can
do is to keep the Secret and wait until we're old enough that no
one can stop us, until we can protect ourselves."

   "But that's years yet -- and a year longer for me! Michael, I
don't want to wait that long -- I can't! I want to fuck you!" Her
cheeks colored a bit at her own vehemence and she took a deep
breath. "I want to make love to you, Michael. And I want you to
make love to me. *Love.*  And I can't wait too much longer. I've
been waiting for months. I even started taking the Pill a few
months ago -- Janie's father is a doctor and she got them for me --
and I've just been waiting for the right time." She gave me a look
of such longing, I got flutters in my stomach.

   She shifted to a kneeling position, which -- even naked --
seemed somehow more formal. Her expression became serious. "It all
comes down to one question, Michael: Do you love me?"

   I just looked at her for a moment, then sat up facing her. This
didn't sound like a rhetorical question; did she really need an
answer? "You know how I feel about you, Alex."

   She folded her hands together and tucked them between her knees,
and studied them. "Maybe I do, but I have to hear it. Please."

   I leaned forward and covered her hands with mine. I looked into
her eyes and said slowly and clearly, "Alex, I love you with all my
heart." She blushed a little but her smile seemed relieved. She
caught my hand and squeezed.

   "Michael, I love you more than anything. Anything. We *are* in
love, for real, and it's not fair that we can't share it
physically, like any other couple."

   I guess that's what made up my mind. I was still nervous about
taking the final step, taking my sister's virginity, even though
she was actively pressing it on me. "Incest," I decided at that
moment, was just a word. An outmoded concept that had no relevance
to us. I'd had one semester of psychology, though I was actually
very widely read in that field already, and I suspected Freud and
his crowd would have all sorts of significant things to say about
us, but that simply didn't interest me. It didn't mean anything. My
sister and I might be unusual in our relationship, but that was all
it was -- "unusual." If we had had two different sets of parents,
we would have been just like any other teenage couple, and no one
would care. So what was so perverted? What was so degenerate about
us?

   I realized that my conclusions had been coalescing for months.
I knew I loved a girl named Alexandra. And that it wasn't a crush,
or puppy love, or anything so trivial. That was all we were
supposed to be capable of feeling at our age, but I was convinced
that our feelings for each other were much, much deeper. Perhaps we
were simply more mature in certain ways than most of our peers ...
or maybe it was our slowly developing love and resulting closeness
that had matured us. However cause and effect worked, the result
was the same.

   These thoughts rushed in and piled atop one another in my mind
as we sat there in bed holding hands and gazing longingly at each
other. It was almost an epiphany. My nervousness about the
resolution of our sexual involvement was still there, of course,
but now it was the natural nervousness of any young male
contemplating sex with a girl he cared for deeply. That word, the
one we never used aloud, no longer entered into it.

   The few seconds' pause in our conversation seemed like an hour.
I had to think back to recall the last thing Alex had said. Ah.
Yes.

   "You're right," I replied. "It's not fair. And I think we've
just decided to do something about it, haven't we?" Alex looked
faintly surprised at the sudden resolution in my voice. "But I
think we should treat this as a special occasion -- special for
both of us. Why don't we give each other a very special, very
private birthday gift?" Her eyes were bright, now.

   "I also think we should give up all this foreplay with no 'last
act' until then. Sweets taste a lot nicer when you haven't had any
for awhile."

   "Yeah," she said with a smile. "I think you're right. Looking
without being able to touch will make us anticipate the Big Day all
the more." She hesitated. "We don't have to avoid each other, do
we?"

   "Alex, we're still brother and sister; what else have we been
agonizing about? We just won't be lovers for a week, not actively
anyway. But I still get a kiss in the morning, okay?"

   My sister looked and seemed happier than she had appeared in
months. This was a deep river for us to cross, but I thought things
would be all right, now that we had decided to blow up the log jam.

                             *  *  *  *  *

    It was a long week ... like trudging across a desert, even
though you know when and where the waterhole is going to be. We
continued the same friendly affection we had developed over the
years, and we still exchanged quick kisses of greeting and
departure. We held hands when we went shopping out of our
neighborhood. But each of us adopted a careful modesty around the
other. Clothing changes were made with bedroom doors shut, and we
knocked on the bathroom door, just like other people. All showers
were solo. We stopped our intimate but casual sex play. In some
ways, of course, it was godawful frustrating, but it also
heightened the sexual tension, like tightening a guitar string. For
some years, I had had regular dreams about Alex -- usually very
nice ones, too -- but now the dreams were coming every night. She
was still doing most of her studying on my bed, though she was
wearing more than just underwear these days. But neither of us was
getting a lot of studying done; we spent much of our time looking
at each other and smiling. The mounting anticipation became almost
overwhelming.

   On the morning of January 6th, my -- our -- birthday, as I was
putting my keys and coins in my pockets, I discovered a neatly
sealed square envelope propped on top of my chest of drawers. On
the front was "An Invitation," lettered in my sister's precise
script. Inside was a folded sheet of her monogrammed notepaper
which read: "The Joy of Your Presence Is Requested at a Grand
Opening to Be Entered Into at Approximately 9:00 p.m. on the
Evening of January 6th and Ending Whenever the Revelers Are
Exhausted.  No R.S.V.P. Required, No Excuses Accepted.  Dress:
Optional." I had a great deal of difficulty concentrating on school
that Friday.

   We had a leisurely supper with Mother and Dad, who wished us
both Happy Birthday and gave us our presents. Our family had never
made a big deal of birthdays, especially after we each passed the
plastic toy stage. That suited us, too. Each January, Alex and I
gave each other small, highly personalized gifts carefully selected
or handmade. The more unusual and unexpected, the better; no
unimaginative boxes of candy or bottles of cologne. This year, our
folks gave us each new wristwatches in matching style, modest in
price but better than the old Timexes we both were wearing. Our
gifts to each other would come later.

   Dad was gone on weekends at least half the time these days, in
addition to his frequent business trips, but I was concerned that
he might be inconveniently present that night. Not *that* night, of
all nights, please! As it turned out, he was taking Mother for a
rare night out: They were going to a show and then to visit some
friends across town who had recently returned from a winter
vacation in the Caribbean. Mother absolutely hated lugging her
wheelchair to other people's homes, but these friends had known her
a very long time, long before her arthritis became crippling.
Anyway, they didn't expect to be home until well after Midnight,
which was fine with us.

   We each took an hour in the bathroom, trying to make ourselves
perfect for the occasion. I had problems deciding what to wear. Or
should I just show up naked, wearing a bow tie? I finally settled
on a pair of slacks and a reasonably new dress shirt with the top
few buttons undone. Then I slipped on my loafers without socks.
This was almost formal attire by Upstairs standards, but it was
still nothing I couldn't get out of in a hurry. As I was brushing
my hair and wondering how to approach our rendezvous, the question
was answered by Alex's soft knock at my door.

   "Michael? Don't open the door yet -- but it's ten to nine, and
I'd like you to come and open MY door at exactly nine o'clock. All
right?" I agreed and heard her bare feet hurry back down the hall.
Whatever she was preparing, it was going to be interesting.

   At ten seconds before 9:00 by my new watch, I stepped across the
hall. Alex had taped a big red satin bow to the middle of her door,
with a printed note just above it: "ENTER WITHOUT KNOCKING." I
turned the knob and walked into the nearly dark room. Alex was
waiting across the room, but I was struck for a moment by how neat
and tidy the place was. No dirty laundry, bed newly made, closet
door shut. She had swept and dusted, too. This really WAS a special
occasion. The lights were off and the window shade was drawn, but
a soft illumination was provided by a dozen candles set at
intervals around the room.

   Alex stood by her dresser wearing a blue velveteen mini, dark
blue hose, and a pair of shiny black patent high heels that must
have been borrowed. She had beautiful legs in any outfit, but
tonight the effect was stunning. A gold-orange satin scoop-necked
blouse provided an electric contrast to her long, deeply red hair.
She wore no jewelry -- the colors did the work very nicely. And she
certainly looked older than just-turned-15! I stood just inside her
door, rooted to the spot in amazement tinged with awe. I had never
seen my sister looking more beautiful and desirable. My face must
have shown my reaction clearly because she blushed and looked very
pleased. Then she almost giggled but managed to control herself.

   She reached over to her dresser and switched on a Wollensak tape
recorder I hadn't noticed, and began walking across the room,
swaying her hips gracefully and provocatively. The music was for
slow-dancing and we slipped into each other's arms and moved around
the small, empty center of the room in no particular pattern or
step. Rather than going into a clinch as we usually did during a
slow number, we found ourselves examining each other's face
minutely. Alex seldom wore much makeup except lipstick; she simply
didn't need it. Tonight, the lipstick was absent; she knew it
wasn't much fun in serious kissing. Her lips were covered only by
a thin sheen of gloss which made her mouth appear moist and
inviting. Her eyes had gotten much more attention, however. The
shadowing was faint but effective, making her brilliant green eyes
appear even larger and more magnetic. The effect was that I felt
myself falling in love with her all over again, as if I had just
met her at a school dance. She was looking at me a little
differently, too, and I was glad I had shaved after supper (though
I'd had to search diligently for stubble). After a few minutes, she
sighed in contentment and slipped her arms possessively around my
neck. Her soft cheek brushed mine and she whispered "I love you"
close to my ear. I scattered slow kisses down her cheek and along
her jawline and she purred and shivered a little.

   I popped open the little pearl buttons down the back of her
blouse one at a time as we continued to move in our unhurried
dance. Alex wore no bra and when the blouse fell open I smoothed my
hands over her soft, sleek skin, enjoying the shifting of muscles
under my fingers. She stepped back almost bashfully and let the
blouse slide off her arms. As I covered her breasts with my open
hands, she unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders. Both
garments were tossed in a chair in the corner and we went back to
dancing, pressed breast to breast, four hands caressing two bodies.

   Alex took the initiative next, unhooking my slacks and sliding
down the zipper down far enough to allow them to fall to the floor.
I pushed down my briefs, stepped out of my loafers, and kicked the
whole mass to one side. We embraced and our hands continued to move
all over each other, as if exploring for the first time. Alex
reached down and squeezed my penis, stretching it upward between
us. Because she was still wearing her heels, I was able to reach
around, push up her skirt, and grip her ass, one cheek in each
hand. I think both of us wanted badly to simply throw ourselves on
the bed, but we had tacitly agreed to spend a little time
tormenting ourselves. Foreplay with a vengeance. Alex stepped away,
turned her back to me, and pushed her mini and her hose slowly to
the floor, swinging her ass as she did so. She stepped out of her
heels one at a time, to get rid of the hose, and then put them back
on. She turned back to face me, a beautiful, naked girl in heat and
heels. I was barely able to breath.

   She paced the few steps back to me with smoke drifting out of
her eyes. I unconsciously backed up to the bed. "I'm not going to
suck you this time and you're not going to eat me," she said in a
low, intense voice. "We've had nothing BUT foreplay. Tonight, we're
going to fuck!" Her crooked smile seemed very determined.

   She pushed me relentlessly onto my back on the bed and crawled
sinuously on top of me. My cock was erect and straining and she
rubbed her pubic mound against it as she covered my body with hers.
She nudged the inside of my calves with her feet and I spread my
legs wide and straight. She followed exactly, keeping her legs
balanced atop mine. Then she stretched my arms out to the sides and
again followed my movement, laying her palms flat against mine,
fingers spread. Her loose hair fell around my face as she touched
the tip of her nose to mine and began licking my lips with her
tongue. I thought we must look like wrestling starfish, with the
curvy one pinning the larger one. I knew I could slip my cock into
her pussy easily in this position, but Alex apparently had her own
program and kept the instrument trapped between us. She moved
against me as we kissed deeply -- just an inch or so in different
directions, but the experience of *really* full body contact was
extraordinarily sensual.

   Finally, with Alex's prompting, we brought our limbs back
together and intertwined our legs and held each other very tightly.
Then we rolled over, assuming the classic intercourse position.
Alex was flushed now -- so was I -- and I felt the moisture in her
crotch filtering through her pubic hair. She raised her knees and
spread her legs. Taking my head in her hands, she began kissing my
eyes, my chin, my mouth, and whispering over and over, "Fuck me ...
fuck me ... fuck me...."  She was so aroused in anticipation, her
whole body was trembling seismically.

   I stroked my cock against her cleft, bringing little gasping
noises from her as it passed over her clit like a violin bow. Then
I eased it into her a little at a time, savoring the pauses. It was
as if all my nerve endings were concentrated in my cock, which felt
a foot long and six inches thick. Finally, I was all the way into
her and my forebrain wanted me to climb in behind it. This was
where both of us had wanted to be for months, and now we were here
and we almost couldn't believe it.

   As I began stroking slowly in and out (I was determined not to
come too soon), Alex wrapped her legs high on my back and curled
her pelvis hard against me. She wanted me to fill her up completely
and I tried hard to comply. Her eyes fluttered open and shut and
she made rhythmic moaning sounds in the back of her throat.

   My sister's leg-lock was so persistent, I found I could barely
move. I pushed her long legs up over my shoulders, with her ankles
against my ears, and took a more vertical position, like I was
drilling a well. I plunged into her at an increased pace, pulling
out almost completely each time so as to make the longest possible
strokes. Each time I felt an orgasm beginning to build, I slowed my
pace to prolong the action. But it still wasn't enough -- as if
anything *could* be enough. But I wanted all of this fantastic
girl, and she wanted to give all of herself to me.

   She spread her legs as far apart as she could, hands behind her
knees. As I continued to screw myself into her, I pressed her legs
as flat against the bed as I could, trying to increase the friction
against her clit. She made a little mew of discomfort, and I sure
didn't want to hurt her in any way. I was breathing too hard to
talk, but I raised my eyebrows as a question.

   She gasped a reply. "No -- it's okay -- harder -- harder and
deeper -- oh, God -- it feels so good -- I can't stand it."

   So I really went to it, slamming into her like a piston in a
steam engine. Her head was jogged forward by two inches on each
stroke, but if she felt any strain it was lost in her sexual
delirium. I hadn't even touched her nipples, yet they stood up
stiffly and seemed to pulsate.

   My climax started as a tingling in the soles of my feet. I
wanted very much for us to share our first "official" orgasm, and
the thin, wailing moan coming from my sister writhing mouth made me
pretty sure we could do it. She suddenly wrapped her legs around my
waist again and clung frantically to my arms and shoulders, as if
she were about to fall off a cliff. Her shuttering, gasping climax
might indeed have thrown her off the bed, except that she triggered
my own orgasm. My paroxysms continued for half a minute and she
jerked and trembled again with each new spasm.

   As our hot-wired bodies slowly coasted to a halt, I rolled
carefully off Alex, who turned on her side to face me. Both of us
ran with rivulets of sweat. We kept touching each other's faces and
bodies, gently, hesitantly, awed by the intensity of what we had
just experienced. Each of us was bright red in the face and
struggling to get our wind back.

   I was finally able to speak. "I was afraid I might hurt you,
Alex -- I kind of lost control for awhile...." I laid my hand on
her soft, damp cheek and she placed her hand over mine. "It felt a
little like I was killing you."

   Alex kissed me softly and lovingly. "Michael," she murmured, "if
I'm dead then I've sure gone to heaven!" Then she got that look in
her eye again. "That was a beautiful birthday present -- just what
I've always wanted! But I have a present for you, too."

   She scooted toward the foot of the bed until her face was level
with my crotch and slid her hands under my ass, squeezing and
kneading. My cock had shriveled considerably already, but when she
began to lick at it and suck the remaining white fluid from its
tip, it began to recover. My cock was covered with my semen and her
own juices, but she seemed to enjoy the combination of flavors, and
I certainly enjoyed the attention. I wasn't sure I could gobble her
pussy under similar circumstances. It was temporarily so soft, she
was able to stuff my entire penis into her mouth and both my balls
as well. She swallowed a couple of times, and I could sense my
equipment edging down her throat. Then she applied real suction and
clamped her mouth around the base of my genitals, without biting.
Her eyes twinkled when she tugged her head back, and the strain,
physical and emotional, became exquisitely erotic. In less than
thirty seconds, Alex found she could no longer hold all of me in
her mouth. She began to lick up and down the stem like a lollipop
and I responded with more sexual energy than I would have expected.
The head of my penis, especially, was still very sensitive from my
first orgasm and the flicking of her tongue gave me a restless
twitch.

   "Alex, if you don't sit on it quick, it's gonna leave without
you!"

   She grinned and bounced up to straddle my hips. Taking her cue
from my earlier method, she grasped my penis between her legs and
rubbed the head briskly against her pussy. I moaned from the
electricity she generated. She settled herself onto my cock and
pressed her crotch down and forward, pushing me into herself as far
as she could. She moved up and down experimentally, shifting her
hips from side to side. My penetration was greater than before, and
because Alex was in control, each movement and change of pace was
a surprise. It felt wonderful. I took one perfect breast in each
hand and massaged them, finally tugging her down to me. She braced
herself on locked arms, leaning forward so I could suck on her
swaying nipples. I chewed gently on the little corks and she closed
her eyes and hummed in the back of her throat. My hands on her ass
pressed her clit against my grinding cock, which made her lips curl
back. Her back was arched, her stomach flat against mine, her
breasts brushing my face. I urged her on and she flattened herself
against me, her hands squeezing my shoulders. Her ass swung up and
down as I moved down and up, both of us stretching to obtain the
longest stroke. Soon we were slamming together again, both of us
gasping for breath, and then I felt the spasm of climax building
rapidly in my groin. I squeezed her ass tightly and shot off into
her steaming cunt again. Alex was a few seconds behind me, gasping
and shuddering. The contraction of her vaginal muscles milked the
last drop of semen from me.

   She let herself collapse completely, her cunt still filled to
capacity. She gave a low moan that communicated pleasure,
satisfaction, and exhaustion. My cock was shrinking from overwork,
too, and as it withdrew itself from her, I felt my come oozing out
with it. Alex finally let herself roll off and lay beside me, her
knees still slightly bent and her legs apart. I slipped my arm
behind her head and she leaned over and kissed me and stroked my
chest.

   I squeezed my cock, coaxing the milky residue out, and gathered
the mixture of her juices and mine that had soaked into my pubic
hair. Then I carefully smeared it across her belly. She peered down
when she felt the stickiness and smiled benignly. Then she gathered
a handful of the stuff from between her legs and spread it just as
carefully across my stomach. I grinned back at her and put my arms
around her, and held her close to me. She folded her hands against
my chest and nibbled at my throat.

   After a few warm minutes regaining our senses and basking in the
heat we had generated, Alex nuzzled me. "Michael, we need to get up
and take a shower, before we get stuck together ... as much as I
hate to leave your arms right now. God, I love you. But I can love
you in the shower, too. C'mon...."

   She began scooting toward the side of the bed, trying to drag me
after her. I mumbled a protest as she rolled me over on the
sweat-soaked sheets. The clock read just after 11:30; our parents
would probably be home soon. I knew Alex was right, but she'd worn
me out and I wanted to just lie there. She finally got my attention
by tugging firmly on my flaccid penis; she giggled and I moved.

   We wandered the few yards down the hall to the bathroom, arms
around each other's waists, hips bumping together. I turned the
shower up to hot-as-hell while Alex dug out a stack of thick
towels. The bathroom was already filling up with steam as we
climbed into the big shower stall and closed the glass door.

   We shared showers often in those days -- except for our
anticipatory week of monkish denial. We loved soaping each other up
and down and sliding ourselves against each other. We loved
handling each other's bodies, tracing the curves and planes with
our fingertips and the palms of our hands. I enjoyed kneeling
behind her and shampooing my sister's thick hair -- and I knew she
enjoyed it, sitting cross-legged on the tile floor with her head
leaning against my chest. That position also made it easy for me to
cup her breasts in my soapy hands, to lift them and play with them,
pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She always
enjoyed that, too. There was something particularly romantic and
erotic about sharing a lengthy deep kiss, naked under the hot
cascade from the shower head, our sweat mixing with the steam, the
water splashing from her body to mine and back to hers. We did that
now, but there was the new, added element of fulfilled sex. No more
holding back, no more being careful to maintain control. As long as
both of us were willing at any given moment, we could fuck all we
wanted. It was a very liberating realization. And though we were
both more than a bit exhausted -- and very stiff -- we hadn't lost
interest.

   Alex flattened her body against mine under the spray, one arm
tight around my neck and her other hand tangled in my hair as her
tongue tickled my palette. Her thighs pressed against mine, her
crotch grinding against my cock (which was, unbelievably, already
showing renewed interest), her navel trying to form a suction with
mine. Her breasts were mashed hard against my chest, as if she were
trying to get inside my skin with me.

   Admittedly, I helped, massaging her ass and rubbing the base of
my cock against her clit. I backed her against the wall and shifted
my hands to her thighs. Her legs parted and, with a little
squirming and maneuvering, I was able to get my reinvigorated cock
into a position where it suddenly slid up the channel into her
cunt. She sighed and tried to hold me even closer. Her right foot
hooked behind my knee. I tried bending at the knees to get some
friction started, but my sister was too close to my own height and
too heavy to lift, especially in the slippery shower. I was only
able to move an inch or so in and out of her and both of us were
becoming frustrated.

   Finally, she reached down and squeezed my balls and slid off me.
"Fuck me from behind, Michael," she said urgently. She went quickly
down on her hands and knees, facing away from the shower head. I
immediately knelt behind her and spread her upper thighs with my
hands. She angled her ass upward and her pussy showed itself
invitingly. I slid a hand between her legs and grasped her whole
crotch. She made a sound in the back of her throat and increased
the angle of her spine even more. I moved up closer and slid my
fully erect cock smoothly into her yet again. Alex's head whipped
back and a tremor traveled down her body. As I began plunging away,
she contracted the muscles in her vagina in counterpoint. Soon, she
was down on her elbows, bracing herself against the tile as I
slammed into her. Her body was being jolted so much, I was afraid
she might bang the top of her head against the wall. But when I
tried to ease off a little, Alex only insisted, "No! Fuck me
harder! Harder!"

   I held onto her hips and when I squeezed, she moaned and gasped
even loader. But the floor of the shower was slippery and so were
we, and Alex's knees gradually slid out from under her. When it
became obvious that she was going to wind up on the floor of the
shower, I pushed into her as far as possible and settled her
carefully, face down. The hot water splashed off my back and my
pubic hair was tickling her asshole. She twitched her buttocks
against my belly as a signal to recommence our activities. I began
fucking her again, hoping my cock wouldn't slip out, but that
turned out not to be a problem. In fact, when she pressed her
thighs together, with my legs on the outside, I discovered that the
friction had improved -- even with my sister's naturally snug cunt.
It also was obvious that the friction against her clit had
increased. As I speeded up my strokes, shoving her whole body
forward each time, she emitted little sobs of passion. She
stretched her arms back and spread her hands along my sides, and I
laid my full weight along her body, pulling her shoulders and arms
back. Though I didn't really think about it until later, there was
probably a certain amount of domination/rape fantasy going on. I
wouldn't have hurt Alex for anything, and she trusted me
absolutely, which allowed her to at least pretend to give up some
of her control, to be submissive in her fantasies. Whatever the
case, we both got off on it.

   As we speeded up again, I definitely began to feel that I was
"using" her and my reaction to that was a bit uncertain, but Alex
seemed to be enjoying herself enormously -- this WAS our third time
around this evening -- and that knowledge kept me aroused. Finally,
as we began the climb to another orgasm, I moved one hand between
our bodies so that my thumb insinuated itself between her buttocks
and pressed against her rectum. I was taking a chance since I had
no idea how my sister would react to ass- play. I wrapped my other
hand in her hair and tugged back just enough to make her arch her
neck. My hesitancy was answered when she shivered under the hot
shower and my hot body and her ass trembled. I slammed into her the
last two times and ejaculated more heavily than I would have
thought possible. At the same time, I pressed my thumb a half-inch
into her asshole and twitched it from side to side. I pulled a
little harder on her hair. She stiffened and I thought I had gone
too far. But then she took a deep breath, sighed loudly, and let
her whole body relax, almost seeming to sink into the tile. Still
lying on top of her, covering her body with mine, I was both
dominating and protecting her. I stroked her arms and flanks and
kissed the back of her neck and her shoulders. I wanted to wrap her
up in my arms and just lie there.

   Eventually, though, I levered my weight off her and climbed
unsteadily to my feet. Now the water was splashing on Alex and she
moaned a little and came back to the real world, too. She stood and
we clung to each other without speaking. There was nothing more to
be said that we hadn't already communicated with our bodies. My
penis was sore and numb and her vagina was filled to the brim with
my sperm, and the world seemed perfect to us.

   We finished our shower -- or, rather, we started over again --
and dried each other lovingly, pausing for kisses which were filled
with love and affection rather than passion.

   Mother and Dad got home shortly after that and we called down --
with unfeigned weariness -- that we both were just about to hit the
sack. Dad didn't even make a pretense of coming up to check on us;
Alex and I not only had become used to being largely ignored by our
parents, we now depended on it in the pursuit of our own joined
lives.

   It was nearly 1:00 in the morning when we finally slid into bed,
naked, me spooning in behind my sister. One of my arms supported
her head and the other wrapped itself around her torso. Alex signed
happily and wiggled back against me. I kissed the back of her head
and murmured, "I love you...."

   She stroked my arm a few times. "Oh, Michael, I love you,
too...."  We drifted off to sleep, stiff and tired and a little
dazed, but happier and more content than we had ever been before.

   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.