Message-ID: <6575eli$9712201845@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year97/6575.txt>
From: cmndr@nym.alias.net (Commander Jameson)
Subject: {ASS} RP "Siblings" Ch. 11-12 by Michael K. Smith (MF+F, inc, cons)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
X-Email: Don't send me e-mail as BCC - it will bounce.
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <34bb15ae.25945445@207.14.113.10XCJ>
Author: Michael K. Smith <mksmith1@BELLSOUTH.net>
(Chapter 8 - Chapter 10 not written yet.)
Chapter 11:
[From Chap 11 of the "Siblings" novel; set 1977; he's 22, she's 21. Some
minor correcting and rewriting for continuity has been done since this
section was first posted....]
CONNIE
by Michael K. Smith
Midway through my first year of graduate study at Berkeley, a paper I
had submitted was accepted to be read at the June conference of the
Western Social Sciences Association in San Diego. I was excited and Alex
was happy for me, too; in our eyes, anything one of us did reflected
equally on the other. But when June arrived, Alex had her hands full
revising her senior thesis so she could graduate that summer, and I had to
fly down alone. I've never sought out crowds, but neither do I
particularly enjoy traveling by myself. If a place is worth visiting at
all, it's probably an experience worth sharing with someone else. Well,
what the hell, I could manage two days, I thought -- but I wouldn't bother
with the beach or Balboa Park.
A couple hours after leaving Oakland International, I stood near the end
of a long, serpentine queue before the front desk of the conference hotel,
trying to calculate how long it would be before I could relax in my room.
An hour at least, maybe two. The line shifted a bit and I picked up my
overnighter and my attache case, took one step forward, and set them down
again. I sighed and let my vision drift out of focus, but a tinkling,
elfin laugh just in front of me brought my attention back.
I had paid no attention to the girl ahead of me in line and I realized
now it was partly because the top of her head barely reached my chin. I
had looked right over her head and sighed practically in her ear!
As she turned and grinned up at me over her shoulder, her silky black
hair, cut in a medium-length pageboy, shone with reflected light from the
lobby chandeliers. Her face looked as smooth and flawless as translucent
porcelain the shade of sandalwood or cinnamon. The longest, thickest
lashes I had ever seen -- I knew intuitively they were genuine -- shaded a
pair of black-brown elliptical eyes so hypnotically ancient and deep their
twinkle seemed incongruous. Her small mouth was enhanced by brilliant red
lipstick. She wore a straw-colored linen suit over a white silk blouse,
both businesslike and alluring. I took in all this in less than a second.
"Maybe we'll have to sleep here in the lobby tonight," she laughed. Her
voice was bell-like but included a nameless quality that I was sure would
grab any man by the throat, the heart, and the balls, all at the same
moment. No accent, either, so she wasn't an exchange student (I took it
for granted, on no evidence at all, that this tiny beauty wouldn't be a
faculty member somewhere.)
Without her two-inch heels I guessed she couldn't be taller than 4'10",
but she was so properly proportioned that she seemed not short but
doll-like. A cliche, I know, but even cliches are founded in truth. She
raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and tilted her head quizzically. I was
suddenly aware of my loosely drooping jaw and the fact that I was staring
down at her. I could feel the flush rising above my collar.
"Uh, yeah -- I mean, they'll, uh.... I'm sorry -- I sound like an
idiot." I swallowed and tried to regroup my scattered thoughts.
"Let me try again," I apologized. The twinkle in her eye was brighter;
she *knows* she has this effect on men, I thought. "I think it's going to
take another hour, at least, to get to the front of this line, and I don't
think we're likely to lose our places." Only two other registrants stood
behind us.
I made a joking half-bow. "Would you allow me to buy you a drink so we
can wait this out in comfort?" Because it's unexpected, that sort of
formality frequently gets a woman's attention.
"You've got a deal!" We parked our bags behind the velvet retaining
rope at one side of the lobby, walked into the bar, and took a small table
in the quieter area at the back. As I held her chair for her, I belatedly
introduced myself.
She held out a small, elegantly manicured hand and I took it carefully.
"I'm Connie Liang, University of Hawaii." Her palm was cool and satiny.
I'm only a bit above average size, but this lady made me feel like a 280
lb. linebacker.
Her surname was obviously Chinese, but she appeared to be a more exotic
blend of Japanese, southeast Asian, Polynesian, and probably a little
European. A typically Hawaiian background, in other words. We chatted
over a couple of bottles of Harp and she told me she about the graduate
work she was doing in social anthropology. She was also in San Diego to
read a paper. From remarks she made I re-estimated her age upward; she
had to be a year or two older than I was. Her voice was wonderfully
musical and I resolved to attend her session, regardless of the subject,
just to hear her read.
After a little while, I rose and peered out at the lobby. The line was
down to almost no one now, so I paid the tab and we retrieved our bags and
checked in. Connie was on the 10th Floor and I was on the 11th.
On the way up in the empty elevator, Connie mentioned with elaborate
casualness that she thought she might just go down to the pool deck on the
5th Floor and "splash around a little." I caught her calculating sidelong
glance and allowed as how I might just do the same thing. She flashed me
what I hoped was a promising smile as she got off at her floor.
During the few seconds between the 10th and 11th Floors, all by myself
in the car, I had an sudden, unnerving conviction that Alex was standing
beside me. The feeling was so strong I actually turned my head to ask her
how she had gotten there -- and as I did, she vanished, leaving behind an
amused chuckle, like the Cheshire Cat. Her voice whispered in the back of
my skull. "Michael, don't worry about it ... have fun, enjoy yourself! I
won't be angry. Don't you know me any better than that?"
Yes, I did know her better than that. All the years we were growing up
together, learning about love and sex together, we were nevertheless out
there dating other people and sampling considerable sexual variety.
I learned early not to be jealous when my sister quietly slipped in from
a late date radiating a lingering orgasmic flush, or when she rinsed some
guy's semen out of her mouth with ginger ale. Nor was she anything but
pleased when I came home with my zipper still half-open and my fingers
smelling of another girl's cunt. Often she wound up in my bed or I in
hers, sharing our experiences and still aroused and primed by the
evening's adventures. I must be feeling guilty, I thought. Weird. Why
should I feel I'm betraying my sister just because I'm attracted to such a
terrific girl? Ridiculous. The elevator door slid open and I hurried
down the hall to my room, trying to remember if I had packed my swimming
trunks.
Thirty minutes later I was walking out on the pool deck in a polo shirt
and my Hawaiian-print jams (good unintentional planning, I thought), with
a hotel bath towel draped artfully about my neck. It was a half-hour till
dusk, my favorite time for swimming and beach-strolling, and there were
only eight or ten other people present, laughing and talking in two groups
up at the shallow end. Everyone else would be at dinner. I glanced
around but didn't see Connie. Either she'll come or she won't, I thought,
and hung my towel and shirt over the back of a deck chair.
I sat down on the pool curbing next to the diving board and cautiously
stuck one foot in the water. Great -- the pool was heated! I glanced
again at the glass doors; still no Connie. Ah, well. I took a breath and
pushed off into the deep end, headed straight for the bottom.
When my feet touched the cement eight feet below, I crouched down with
my knees bent. I paused a few seconds, enjoying the null gravity
sensation. Then I uncoiled and shot myself back to the surface, arms at
my sides, arching over backward to smack my shoulder blades against the
water. My "humpback whale" trick, Alex called it. Childish, probably,
but half the fun of a swimming pool is in not acting like an adult.
Then I heard that silvery laugh again, accompanied by a patter of
applause, and I looked up. Connie had arrived while I was underwater. I
splashed the few yards to the side of the pool and hooked my elbow over
the edge. She was wearing a one-piece smooth silver suit (to go with the
laugh, I thought inanely), cut in a deep V almost to her navel, that
contrasted sharply with her light brown skin and black hair.
She knelt and tried not to giggle. "Tell me ... did you do that on
'porpoise'?"
I rolled my eyes, groaned in the expected manner, and reached out as if
to grab her ankle and fling her into the pool. She skipped back a few
steps, grinning, and waved me farther away from the diving board. She
stepped onto the board, adopted a serious expression, and shook out her
fingers as if preparing for a difficult dive.
As she paced out to the end, looking every bit an Olympian, I saw that
the back of her suit was scooped very wide and low; only the thinnest of
straps crossed vertically over her shoulders and had the back been cut any
lower she would have revealed a second cleavage. There were no tan marks,
of course, to spoil the gently rippling surface of her upper body.
She took a precisely placed bounce on the end of the board and I
expected to see a 2-1/2 twist or something equally spectacular. On the
way up, she touched her pointed toes with her fingertips, arms and legs
absolutely straight -- a form obviously the result of many hours of
practice. But at the peak of her arc, she suddenly tucked herself into a
perfect, slowly spinning cannonball and hit the surface of the water with
a splash that caused a small tsunami at the other end of the pool!
I pushed out to the end of the board and reached up for an ape-hang as
she paddled back from her point of impact. "I can't think of a horrible
pun just now," I grinned, "but I'll give that one a 9.9!"
She reached me and rested a hand on my shoulder for buoyancy, and I
added in a softer voice, "And I have to give you a 10 just for looking the
way you do."
She smiled more intimately and ran her other hand across my chest
beneath the surface, pausing to trace a circle around each nipple with a
fingertip. "You're not so bad yourself, big boy."
Where did she get this dialogue? Well, I'd seen quite a few old films
myself. "I'll bet you say that to all the boys who are a foot taller than
you."
She nodded slightly in approval as if I had just passed a test.
"Speaking of 'taller', you might be standing on the bottom for all I know,
but my legs are getting tired." I doubted it.
"Want to get out of the pool?" I hoped not, not yet.
"No, it's too warm in here and too cold out there. Just let me shift
into my barnacle routine."
Her legs, which had been slowly scissor-kicking, slid up and wrapped
themselves around my right thigh. At the same time, she twisted around to
face me at an angle; now, one knee was pressed in a friendly fashion
against my crotch. In the water, her clinging suit had become
semi-transparent. I was very much aware of her dark nipples erect beneath
the cloth, especially since one was being pressed firmly into my ribs.
Even in the warm water, I could feel my cock stirring.
Her left arm slipped around my back and her thumb hooked itself casually
over the waistband of my trunks. I steadied my grip on the end of the
diving board. I didn't care if my arm developed a permanent cramp, I was
attached to that board as long as Connie wanted to stay in the pool.
I put my free arm around her and stroked my palm up and down the smooth
resiliency of her back, registering the subtle muscles that come with
regular swimming. Other muscles were shifting slightly in her thighs and
calves. There were other activities besides swimming that this
well-maintained body was expert at, I was sure.
My hand slid downward across the small of her back, past the edge of her
suit, and I paused and watched out of the corner of my eye for her
reaction. She squeezed my thigh between hers, so I continued down over
the curve of her small, firm ass. She brushed her nose across the top of
my chest and leaned in closer. My chest was right at surface level and my
nipples had hardened, both from being in the water and from her previous
attention to them. She submerged a few more inches and fastened her lips
around one nipple, sucking as if it were a soda straw, while her hand
moved from my chest down to my abdomen. Connie's aggressive ideas of
foreplay were a revelation even to me, and the experience was very
arousing.
After several minutes of mutual stroking and caressing, she climbed up
and breathed into my ear, which produced a wave of delightful shivers down
my neck. "Why don't we move up toward the other end?" she whispered.
I watched the last of the other pool inhabitants gathering up towels and
sandals and strolling back into the building. It was full dusk now, and
the pool's underwater lights had come on, but they weren't too bright.
"Sounds good to me," I replied.
Connie adroitly unwrapped herself and headed for the four-foot marker
with long, powerful strokes. After a few moments of stretching my abused
left arm, I set out after her.
When I arrived, she had her back to the pool wall and her legs spread
wide. "C'mere," she said softly. As I moved in and put my arms around
her torso, she wrapped her legs loosely around my waist and hooked her
wrists behind my neck. Her kiss was long and sensuous, accompanied by
rhythmic movements of her crotch against my groin.
Alex and I had been together so long, we nearly always moved to each
other by mutual but unspoken consent. Connie's aggressive style of sex
play was new to me and I found it exhilarating.
I gripped both cheeks of her perfect ass and pressed her harder to me.
She raised herself up a little and I attempted to suck her nipples out
through the surface of her suit. She grabbed a shock of my hair in her
teeth and tugged my head up, then wiggled her tongue between her lips in
invitation. She was expecting a deep kiss, but instead I grabbed her
tongue with my lips, as I had done her nipples a moment before, and
sucked. I was trying to match her "surprise" style of foreplay by making
it up as I went along -- and with that move I succeeded.
Her dark eyes widened. She wrapped both arms around my head, crushed
her mouth hard against mine, and strained to push her surprisingly long
tongue down my throat. She growled a little and both our mouths vibrated.
Her thighs tightened around my waist and I wondered in passing if I would
end up with a cracked vertebra. She mashed her crotch so hard against my
cock I was certain I could feel the lips of her cunt on either side of it,
even through both our suits.
After a minute or two of convulsive dry-humping she seemed to regain her
senses enough to realize that I was becoming very short of breath. She
loosened her scissor-grip and pulled her head back to stare into my eyes.
Her lips were parted and her waterproof lipstick was smeared all over her
mouth. She continued to grasp and tug and release my hair with both
hands.
"Oh, you're beautiful! Where have you been all my life?" Her voice
shook a little.
Another cliche, but this time I had an answer. "I've been waiting to
meet a water sprite, and here you are," I replied. I combed my fingers
back through that shining black hair. "If you're planning to lure me away
to the bottom of the sea, I'm ready to go."
Connie was regaining control of her voice now. "How's your room?
Single or double occupant?"
"Just me and a double bed," I replied.
"Then I think we ought to get in out of this cool breeze. For our
health. And my bed's King-size."
I hadn't been paying attention to the weather, but she was right. The
cool San Diego night breeze was giving me goosebumps. I waded on up the
slope of the shallow end and went carefully up the steps; Connie still had
her arms and legs wrapped around me. She was so small I could have
carried her back to the room that way, but I didn't want to risk running
into some senior faculty member with a beautiful girl plastered across my
front like bronze armor.
She must have had the same thought because she suddenly let go of me,
landing perfectly poised and reaching for her towel. I was certain now
that she must be a gymnast as well as a swimmer and diver: Every move she
made, every step she took, was so effortlessly graceful. I doubted that
she had ever stumbled or tripped in her life. I admired her as much as I
lusted for her.
We kissed again in the elevator between floors until an older couple got
on. Then we stood silently in the back of the car, Connie in front of me.
I was running my open hands over her ass while she reached back to caress
my cock through my trunks. We both squirmed but neither of us made a
sound.
When we got off at the 10th Floor, Connie looked up and down the hall,
saw no one, and immediately pinned me to the wall with her body. I
assumed she was going to kiss me again and I began to lean down, but
instead she stuck out her tongue and painted a wet stripe up the front of
my throat, Adam's apple to chin. She giggled and trotted away up the
corridor while I stood frozen by the burning mark. I had to hurry to
catch up. Nobody had ever better take *this* woman for granted, I
thought.
Inside the room, Connie's first move was to lock and bolt the door. I
flicked on the overhead light but she turned it off again and switched on
only the small bedside reading lamp. Now it was private and dim. She
pushed me gently back to sit on the edge of the bed. Then she spread her
knees and sat astride my lap, leaning back on her heels so she could scan
my face. I put my hands along the sides of her damp thighs to balance
her, and she played with the hairs on the backs of my wrists. Her
expression had become serious.
"Michael, you seem like a sweet guy, not the sort to try to take
advantage of me." I raised an eyebrow and she smiled; who was taking
advantage of whom?
"I mean, I don't think you'd try to force yourself on me. So I'm going
to tell you some things up front that you ought to know about me. First,
I'm not as crazy as I sometimes act. I'm smart, I'm successful at
whatever I do, and I'm on my way up in my field. I do act silly when I
feel like it, and today I just kinda feel like it.
"Second, I like sex -- no, I *adore* it. I enjoy acting sexy, by myself
or with a man -- if I like him. I sure like you. I guess I'm just a
sensual person. But that doesn't mean I'm an easy lay; no one carves
another notch on his cock with me! I've had two serious love affairs in
the past five or six years and perhaps a dozen one- or two-night stands.
I even made it with a complete stranger once -- spur of the moment,
fifteen minutes of fantasy, bam, and I'm gone. But I'm usually very
picky; it's been more than two months since I fucked a guy and a couple
weeks since I even kissed anyone. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I think you're saying," I replied, "that you'd like to spend some time
with me -- I hope you will -- but that it's your choice to make." I
shrugged. "Well, it always is, isn't it? The woman's choice, I mean." I
patted her legs lightly in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture.
"Connie, I like women, almost all women, beautiful or not. And I
respect them -- if that makes any sense right now. Rape is not my thing.
Seduction, maybe, but that's a game, and both sides take their chances; if
it comes out right, nobody loses. I think *I'm* the one who's being
seduced this time, and I don't mind at all. We don't know each other well
enough yet for you to tell the difference between my brand of flattery and
the honest truth -- but I tell you honestly and truthfully that you are
one of the most absolutely beautiful and desirable women it's even been my
good fortune to meet. We'll play by your rules, I promise."
I took her by the shoulders and began to bring her within kissing range,
but she stopped me. "Third," she said. I waited.
"I hate to hurt the man I'm with as much as I love having fun with him,
as long as it lasts. I've been in love twice, or I thought I was, and
both of us were hurt each time it ended. I'm not fool enough to think
anyone can predict that they will or won't fall in love, and I don't
believe in 'love at first sight' anyway." I could see some painful
memories behind her infinitely dark eyes.
"If I get involved with a guy, for a few weeks or even a few hours, I
won't run around on him. I don't mind a little *temporary* possessiveness
in a man -- in fact, I take it as a compliment. I can be possessive,
too!" She flashed another smile.
"But I understand the difference between sex-for-mutual-pleasure and
real love. A couple of the guys I've had flings with have become friends
even without the sex; they recognized when that relationship ended and
became something else, and they accepted it." She took my face in her
hands and looked at me with an expression that begged me to understand.
"Don't decide you're in love with me, okay? I don't *want* to be in
love, not now. If it happens, it happens, but I don't want anyone getting
hurt!"
I took her hands and kissed them, and tried to match her earnestness.
"Connie, I have a girlfriend back in Berkeley. We've known each other and
lived together for a long time, and we love each other very much. We're
not married, but I think of her as my other half. In fact, I was a little
depressed when she couldn't come down here with me -- until I met you in
the registration line." Her eyebrows rose another fraction.
"You just now laid it on the line for me, in advance of anything that
might happen between us," I continued, "just to be sure I understood what
was going on here. That's very unusual and it's very honest. That girl
back home owns my heart absolutely -- but she's a very smart lady, too,
and she knows from experience that sex-for-fun is temporary, like a ferris
wheel. You have fun for awhile, you enjoy the ride, and then you go back
home to the one who loves you.
"She's gone round on the ferris wheel a few times herself, and I always
welcome her back with a smile and a kiss. Do you see? I don't own her
body -- I couldn't even if I wanted to -- but it doesn't matter, because I
know, absolutely *know*, that she loves me. Neither she nor I has ever
had anything to be jealous about."
I couldn't tell whether Connie quite believed I was telling her the
truth or not. "In my attache case over there is a copy of my conference
registration form, with my home phone number on it. If you like, you can
call her up and talk to her. Her name is Alex. She's as different from
you as the sun is from the moon, but she enjoys sex, too, believe me. She
might even make a few suggestions."
Still sitting astride my lap and holding my hands, Connie just looked at
me for another minute. I could practically hear the balance scales clink
in her head as she weighed out the possibilities. Then she smiled
broadly, pushed me onto my back, and began kissing and nibbling at my
throat. I was glad she had decided to believe me because what I'd told
her was the truth.
"Your suit seems to have dried," I commented as I slid my hands up and
down her back. "But mine's getting clammy. How about first things
first?"
She rolled off, laughing, and I stood up and unknotted the string at the
front of my trunks. Connie bounced off the bed and pushed my hands away.
"No, no, no! Let me do that; I enjoy unwrapping presents!" Barefoot,
she came only to the middle of my chest, but her arms circled my waist and
her hands slid down under my jams and squeezed my ass. She knelt and
pulled my trunks slowly down. When my reanimated cock sprang up, she made
clacking sounds with her teeth and lunged playfully at it.
"Down, Toto, down!" I laughed. I hadn't meant it literally, but she
obediently lay on her back on the floor, arms outstretched, legs slightly
apart, her hair scattered around her face.
I stood over her, reached down, and slid the thin straps off her
shoulders. She raised her arms and I carefully pulled her bathing suit
away from her breasts and down to her hips, like peeling a banana. She
raised her legs straight upward, pointing her toes as she had when she
dived off the board. I worked the silver suit quickly down her legs,
untangled it from her ankles, and tossed it on the bed. Then I simply
stood and looked down at this perfect, miniature Venus.
She saw the open admiration in my eyes and proceeded to give me the
complete tour. Her breasts were small but in proportion to all the rest
of her, and they quivered firmly. She cupped them in her hands, rubbed
her dark brown nipples between her fingers, and sighed. Her legs were
still in the air; she spread them slowly and curled her ass up a little.
Her pubic hair formed a tiny black rectangle ending just above her cunt.
Her clit seemed as erect as my cock, protruding from the cocoa folds of
her labia.
She curled her body smoothly to one side and I stepped back out of her
way as she suddenly became a three-sided pyramid -- ass at the apex, legs
still stretched out, the tips of her toes digging into the carpet, her
back perfectly straight, arms cushioning her head. She curled her toes
inward and her tiny asshole opened invitingly. Connie was exposing to me
everything her body had to offer, and the array of possibilities was
impressive. Her small frame, combined with her high degree of physical
conditioning and her obvious willingness to share it all with me, was
making me lightheaded.
Without conscious decision, I knelt between her slender, perfectly
turned legs and thrust my tongue into her cunt, flicking it against her
clit on the way in. She jerked slightly and I felt her thighs quiver
against my ears. I wrapped a hand around the front of each knee, to
balance her, and continued to stir my tongue around in her bare little
cunt, which was now beginning to drip with her juices.
I remembered the wetness of her mouth on my throat, out in the hall, and
now my tongue moved slowly, wetly, from the bottom of her cunt up toward
her asshole. A girl like this would always be absolutely clean, I was
sure of it. As my tongue traveled the last smooth brown inch between her
legs she moaned softly and trembled again.
When I reached the rim of her puckered anus I paused for a moment, and
not just to build the suspense. Rimming was something I seldom did, and
then only with Alex. I knew many women were uneasy about it. Yet Connie
hadn't stopped me; in fact her quivering tautness convinced me this was
something she would really enjoy.
My tongue began tracing rings around the rim of the deepest opening in
her body and I could feel her heart rate increase and her breathing become
ragged. Then I plunged it as hard and as far into her ass as I could,
burying my face again and again between her cheeks, and I could heard her
half-sobs of passion. I became aware of spasms ricocheting between her
cunt and her ass as the orgasm carried her away.
After a minute, I gently helped her to lie down with her stomach flat on
the carpet. Her spine curved back and her groin rose at an angle in my
lap. Her knees, locked straight for so long, were now bent with her toes
pointed away from me. My cock, still erect and throbbing, tapped lightly
against the half-open slit but I made no attempt to push it into her,
though I could hardly ignore the enticing aroma of the wetness that beaded
the back of her crotch.
I quietly stroked her ass and her thighs, and I threaded my fingers
between her toes and felt the tough smoothness of the soles of her tiny
feet. Finally, she attempted to get up but her position was awkward for
anything other than what we had been doing. I rolled her over on her back
and stood, scooping her up in my arms as I rose; she weighed so little, it
was like a lifting a little girl. I knew that was part of what attracted
me to her; she undoubtedly knew it too. I laid her on the bed on her back
and settled next to her on my side, head propped on one hand so I could
continue to look at her.
Her eyes had been closed in momentary exhaustion, but now they opened
and I was favored with a warm, dreamy smile. She held up her arms and I
lay down with my face next to hers and her arms around my neck.
"He followed me home, Ma; can I keep him?" She kissed me once,
lingeringly, and then nuzzled my ear with her nose. "How did you know
something like that would turn me on so? *I* didn't know it." Her full
voice had been bell-like, but her whisper was husky. She nibbled my
earlobe and sighed happily.
"It wasn't just a lucky guess," I said, as my hand traveled down her
back, pressing her warm body against mine. "Besides, a gentleman always
lets a lady come first."
"What do you mean, it wasn't a 'lucky guess'?"
I was still down by one horrible pun. "Well, being an Island girl, I
figured you couldn't resist a Pacific rim...." She groaned and laughed
softly in my ear; then she licked one finger and marked a score in the
air.
"That's a hell of a start, but we've got all night to try and top it.
Don't we?" She hugged me affectionately.
"We certainly do," I replied, and hugged her back.
It was a long night and neither of us got much sleep. There was too
much of each other to explore, and I think we covered every available
square inch. We began with a conventional fuck there on the bed, if
anything about Connie could be said to be conventional. She was a long
way from being a virgin, but her cunt was still tight. As I pushed my
cock into her, she locked her ankles so high up on my back I nearly
slithered out again.
Finally, relying on her gymnastic strength, I hooked my arms behind her
knees and thrust up into her as far as I could reach. As she breathed
deeply with pleasure, I could feel the head of my cock battering against
her cervix. She made low growling noises again as I positioned myself to
apply maximum friction against her clit, and when we both climaxed, one
after the other, a few minutes later, she was breathing rapidly with her
mouth wide open, almost as if she were in labor.
The taste of her own juices and my semen didn't bother her either,
because five minutes afterward she was stretched out atop me with my cock
in her mouth and the sweet smell of her pussy hovering just above my
throat. She went from sucking hard on my cock head to lightly flicking
her tongue up and down its length. I couldn't quite reach the prize with
my tongue, so I turned my head a bit and nibbled the insides of her thighs
while gently squeezing her ass with both hands. When I finally came
again, she sucked hard, not wanting to lose a drop of me.
After we caught our breaths, she urged me over on my stomach, pushed my
legs far apart, and lay with her face pressed snugly up between my legs.
She licked my balls and sucked them gently into her mouth one at a time
and then both together. A guy can't help but feel vulnerable in that
position, but I loved it -- especially when she tugged just a little.
I couldn't reach her at all with my hands, of course, so I was
completely at her mercy. I suspected she liked to be in control to some
degree and I was content to let her orchestrate our lovemaking. Besides,
she was so very good at it!
She moved away from my balls and I felt my checks being spread. I
remembered her tapering, beautifully manicured fingernails, but what I
felt poking into my ass was too wet and mobile to be a finger. She
swabbed her tongue up and down, from the base of my balls all the way to
the base of my spine, pausing on each journey to flick it into my ass.
After a few minutes of that treatment, my cock was rigid again, trapped
between me and the bed, and I had to roll over on my back. Connie was
instantly on her knees over my cock, letting herself down onto it, then
lying on my chest and sliding slowly up and down on the organ that filled
her so completely.
I couldn't reach to kiss her very easily -- the only disadvantage of her
lack of height -- so I lay happily and quietly, smoothing her glossy hair
and stroking her neck and shoulders. We dozed off for perhaps thirty
minutes, arms around each other, a lovely woman still impaled on my cock.
Connie brought me back to wakefulness by the simple method of resuming
her motion. After a minute, she sat up, hands pressed flat against my
chest, her hair curtaining her face, and began systematically pumping me
up into herself. I reached down with both hands and gripped her ass,
flattening her groin and bending her back. I could feel the fiery
friction between my cock and her clit. Her eyes were squeezed shut and
her mouth opened and closed without a sound. She seemed to be in another
place. Break on through to the other side, I urged her silently. This
time, I came first and that rush within her triggered her own orgasm. She
moaned breathily and collapsed on my chest again.
"Oh, God," she whispered between gulps of air. She was finally tiring
herself out, I thought. Good thing, too; I wasn't sure I could manage
more than three climaxes in one night. Unbelievable.
I was awakened about 3:00 a.m. by Connie's small, slender hand yet again
wrapped around my penis. Her head lay against my shoulder. Her eyes were
closed and she seemed almost to be running on automatic. My cock was
reacting to her warm grip, though, and I was willing to fuck this
insatiable woman as many times as I could manage, even if it put me in the
hospital. But I decided to take charge myself this time around.
I gently removed her hand from my cock and slid her head off my arm.
She murmured something incomprehensible. I wasn't sure I could roll her
over onto her other side without waking her, so, moving very slowly and
quietly, I arched my body across hers, trading sides of the bed. Now she
was facing away from me. Her lovely, athletic body was lying loosely
curled and I moved up against her from behind. Her frame was so small, I
could reach almost every part of her.
My hand crept over her hip and worked its way down between her legs.
When my middle finger slipped through the gate guarding her clit, she
shifted her legs to give me better access and sighed. She was still
asleep. After perhaps thirty seconds of gently stroking her hard little
center, her breathing deepened and her own hand moved down to replace
mine. In another moment she was slowly masturbating in her sleep.
My finger was wet with the juices of her cunt; I put it in my mouth and
sucked it dry. The taste of her was fantastic. The same finger now moved
to her asshole, lightly brushing the puckered ridges. Her sphincter
quivered involuntarily as I eased my finger past the muscular rim. By the
time it was in her up to the second knuckle, her hips were visibly
twitching and she was finally beginning to waken.
I leaned over and kissed the side of her neck and flicked my tongue in
and out of her ear. She opened one eye halfway and twisted her head to
see where I was. She continued to stroke her clit as we kissed -- and
then I thrust all three inches of my middle finger past her relaxed
sphincter, all the way up into her small, tight ass.
Her mouth and both eyes popped open at the unexpected sensation. She
knew immediately what was where, however, and she gasped and squeezed her
eyes tightly shut as I flexed my finger several times.
Had I been completely awake, I would never have done any of this without
at least her tacit consent. Connie was small but she was strong and very
tough. Any man trying to force himself on her would come away missing
both balls and an ear, and I knew it. As it was, I was just lucky.
Connie liked the surprise of being gently dominated -- a little, anyway --
as much as she enjoyed being the aggressor.
She drew up her right leg and moved it past my arm. Now she lay on her
back, legs spread wide, as I leaned over her with my wrist pressed against
her crotch and my finger gyrating in her rectum. I varied the rhythm with
random flexing motions, as if I were attempting to make a one-finger fist,
and each time I did, her body twitched and jerked.
Her hand was flashing across the wet, red tip of her clit and her moans
came from deep in her throat. As she neared her orgasm, I began moving my
finger smoothly in and out but no more than one knuckle. She bent her
knees up against her chest, giving me the greatest possible freedom of
movement, and I took advantage of it, moving my finger almost completely
in and out of her hole. Finally, at the very instant she peaked, I
slammed my finger all the way back into her. She gave a small cry, though
not of pain, and I could feel the convulsive contractions in both her
rectum and through the dividing membrane in her vagina.
We slept in until 9:00 the next morning and missed the conference's
opening session, but our exhaustion was worth it. I woke Connie this
time. The hairlessness of her slit made it easy to send my tongue probing
down the crevice of her pussy. She made a husky moaning sound that I was
beginning to learn well and spread her legs. I settled in on my stomach
and pushed my whole face into her crotch, my nose opening her labia and my
tongue licking up and down the entrance to her cunt. She smelled of sex
-- equal parts sweat, my semen, and her vaginal juices. She smelled
wonderful. She woke fully after a few moments and laughed softly and
musically.
She clenched my hair in her fists and tried to push my entire head into
her cunt. My tongue teased her clitoris out of its hiding place and I
pursed my lips around the shaft and sucked hard. Her fists tugged harder
at my hair, and that was beginning to hurt a little. Okay, I thought, and
I nipped very lightly with my teeth at her clit.
She squealed and let go of my hair. "I give, I give!" she gasped. I
slid backward off the end of the bed onto my knees and began hauling her
after me by her spread legs. As her knees bent and her feet hit the floor
I stood and held out my hands. She smiled and accepted them, and I pulled
her upright and wrapped my arms around her tightly. She put her arms
around my neck and hung on.
I kissed her neck and shoulder and she kissed every freckle on my face.
We finally unclinched and looked at each other, grinning like idiots.
"You know what this room smells like, don't you?" Connie laughed. "What
are the ladies in Housekeeping going to think when they walk in here and
take a deep breath of all the pheromones?"
"Well," I laughed back, "we'd better make sure we don't smell the same
way when we read our papers this afternoon! Care to split a shower?"
Three minutes later we were standing under the hot, cascading water,
industriously soaping each other up and down, and paying special attention
to all the erogenous zones we could think of. I thought briefly about how
many showers I had shared with Alex. But this wasn't the same thing at
all.
After lathering up, we tried the "Bangkok method" of scrubbing --
rubbing our bodies together at all angles. Connie pressed her small, firm
breasts against my shoulder blades and slowly worked her way down to my
ass. Feeling her nipple travel down the crack in my ass gave me chills
even in the steamy shower. When it was my turn, I made certain my
stiffening cock made the same trip, down her lower spine and the center
line of her ass. I ended with my cock pushing between her legs from
behind. She reached under and grasped the head of it, pulling it forward
and up snug against her crotch. She flexed her thigh muscles, as Alex
sometimes did, but she was so much smaller that two inches of me protruded
in front of her.
She laughed delightedly. "Hey, it looks from here like I've become a
hermaphrodite!" She wrapped one hand around my intruding penis and began
jerking me off, all the while making absurd imitation-male sexual sounds.
Two could play at almost any game, and I remembered the night before.
Sliding my soapy hand down between our bodies, I slipped my middle finger
easily into her asshole. She sucked in between her teeth and jutted her
ass out without losing her grip on my cock. Then I stiffened my finger
into a hook and slowly lifted up. Connie gasped and rose on tiptoe,
letting go of my cock to brace herself against the wall.
I already knew her ass was, relatively speaking, the least experienced
part of her. Now I had a blinding flash of lust: I wanted to get my cock
up that ass. As tight as her vagina was, what must her rectum be like?
My cock came to full alert as the vision raced through my imagination.
"Connie,... have you ever been fucked in the ass? I mean, I can't tell
you how much I want your asshole, but I won't do anything to hurt you."
Her breasts were pressed against the tile but her lovely little bottom
was cocked at an angle. "I tried it once," she admitted between gasps of
breath. "The guy tried to shove it in too fast and it really hurt. But
his cock was also bigger than yours -- too big." She paused. "I want to
try it again. Having your finger in me is making me crazy! But do it
slow, and if I tell you to, you have to stop. Okay?"
"Of course, Connie; I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I meant it."
I carefully removed my finger and picked up the miniature bottle of
moisturizer thoughtfully supplied by the hotel -- though probably not for
this purpose. Sliding my finger back into her asshole, I made it as
slippery as I could while I spread the remaining lotion thickly over the
head of my cock.
"It'll be easiest if you spread your feet and touch your toes," I said.
"I'll balance you, don't worry. Put your feet on the nonskid strips."
I moved her around to face into the back corner of the shower and as she
bent over, I gripped her hips firmly and watched her anus opening wider.
"You have to relax your ass muscles. Push out, like you were taking a
shit. I'll take it slow, but you have to relax."
I felt the hot water pounding against my shoulder blades as I pressed
the head of my cock against Connie's anus. She was resisting without
intending to and I heard her bite back a whimper. But the lotion did the
trick and my cock popped through her sphincter. I paused for a few
seconds, then held her hips steady as I pulled her ass slowly toward me.
She was alternately groaning and gasping, but she didn't ask me to stop.
I lathered up a little more lotion on my cock as it disappeared from view,
and then realized I was buried in her tight brown ass up to the hilt.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly. "I can take it out."
Her teeth were clenched. "It feels like I have an iron pipe at the
base of my spine. It hurt at first, a little, but not now. God, it feels
strange! But I want you to fuck me! I've never done this all the way and
I have to know what it feels like."
I eased my cock out an inch or so, then pushed it back in. I continued,
increasing the tempo, and it gradually became easier as her muscles
cooperated. After a minute or two, Connie was standing upright with her
back arched and her beautiful ass almost horizontal. She was moaning now
and catching her breath with each penetration. The natural moisture
inside her added to the lubrication and I soon found myself having to
control my frenzied lust, for fear of slamming into her too forcefully.
For a minute or two, I wanted to climb all the way up into her. I
wished I had a twenty-inch penis, so I could reach all the way into her
intestines. The tight, smooth grip of her rectum on my cock combined with
the vision of her firm little butt as I watched myself sliding in and out
of her. And the knowledge that I was the first explorer in this virgin
territory added to the vision. All of this, combined with the previous
night's exertions, made me visionary. I was seeing tiny colored lights at
the edges of my sight.
My hands moved up to her small waist and I held on tightly, controlling
the tempo. Connie didn't resist. In fact, she was pushing her ass back
against my cock, trying to deepen each thrust. Her mouth was open and she
was making repeated "Ahhhhhh..." noises. I realized she was so far gone,
she probably didn't know what planet she was on -- and that accomplishment
was the last ingredient needed to trigger my orgasm.
I made a final deep lunge and came like a fire hose, shooting what felt
like whole pints of come up into her body. Two or three more spasmodic
plunges, and I was empty. God only knew how long it would take my body to
manufacture enough replacement semen to have sex again. Weeks, probably.
I felt Connie's knees begin to buckle, and I quickly wrapped one arm
around her waist and the other around her body and pressed her back
against my chest, leaning back for balance. One hand cupped her breast
and her nipple was so erect it poked between my fingers. Her arms hung
loosely at her sides and her head lolled back on my collarbone. She was
truly impaled; the balls of her feet barely rested on the wet tile. I
could never have supported a larger girl that way.
"Oh, God,... I don't believe it." She was gasping for breath and seemed
on the verge of fainting. "I came,... I actually came,... incredible
feeling,... I feel ... so full,... like ... like your cock ... is ten
times bigger."
I began to ease myself out of her but she immediately fumbled behind
her, trying to grab my body. "No! -- Not yet! -- Don't leave yet...."
My own body was trembling and I wasn't sure how well I could support
even her weight. One careful step at a time, I turned around where I
stood. One slip and someone could break something, and it might be my
cock. The water now beating against Connie's body seemed to revive her,
and she raised one hand to cover her face. I backed up and braced myself
against the wall.
"Connie? I have to sit down before I fall down. If we're careful, you
can sit in my lap and I'll stay in you. Okay? Bend as I bend."
I anchored my heels on the nonskid strips in the floor of the shower and
lowered myself to a sitting position, trying to keep my pelvis pushed
forward so as not to lose possession of Connie. She kept her ass pressed
back against my crotch and her palms braced against the shower walls.
We made it almost all the way down, but the last couple of inches I was
overbalanced. My ass landed with a thump and my knees splayed out; I was
lucky not to crack my tailbone. Connie had unavoidably let half the
length of my still hard cock escape from her. When I landed, so did she,
and my penis plunged back into her with real force. She let out a little
cry of pain, but then stroked my thighs as she caught her breath, to let
me know she was okay.
I scooted my lower body forward a little and Connie pressed herself down
even farther. She sank her fingers in the sides of my thighs as she
moaned.
"Michael,... help me turn around. You'll have to turn my hips around so
I don't lose you...."
I rotated her body slowly and carefully on my cock and she lifted one
leg almost vertically to get it past my chest. I bent my knees so she
could lean back against them, and she lifted her own legs with a hand
behind each knee. Her legs were spread as far up and apart as it was
possible to do, even for a gymnastic body like hers. But to my amazement,
her weight added almost another inch of penetration. The union between us
was so tight, strands of my pubic hair were tucked up into her rectum.
She smiled, a little shakily.
"I had no idea," she said huskily. "I never came like that before,
without a guy in my pussy or eating me, or without bringing myself off. I
love having you in me like this! I'll be sore for days and I don't know
when I can do this again, but I don't care. It felt so fantastically
different.... I'm going to find a long vibrator, not so big around, and
have a *lot* of fun. Oh, Michael, you're so beautiful! This'll sound
strange, but you've given me a gift, a discovery. I'll never forget the
last twelve hours -- never!"
* * * * *
Connie was back in her tan suit, looking businesslike and professional
and academic, but still sexy and sensual ... or maybe that was just my
recent memories. Just before we left the room with our bags, she leaned
against me and pulled my head down, and we shared a lengthy, soft, gentle
kiss. Not passion this time, exactly, but affection. And maybe a little
love. Then she hugged me tightly around the neck and spoke quietly into
my ear.
"Michael, you are something else. And so am I. You fucked me and I
fucked you more times last night, and in more different ways, than I've
ever managed in any 24-hour period. God, you're good for me!" She
squeezed me again and there was a choke in her voice. "You're good for me
in other ways besides sex, too."
I squeezed her back. Even though I was going home to Alex, I knew I
would also miss this fantastic woman. "Connie, you don't know how good
you are for me, too. I told you I loved Alex, and I meant it, absolutely
... but if she weren't there I'd be madly in love with you by now. You're
beautiful, sexy, smart, athletic, you have a personality that any guy
would fall for.... Did I mention 'sexy'? I don't know why you aren't
married. I know it's none of my business, but I sure don't understand
it."
Her voice softened even more, her lips brushing my ear. "Remember, I
said I had two relationships that ended badly? I've been proposed to
twice, Michael, and I said 'No' both times. That's why they ended. I was
in love both times, too. The first guy was really terrific but I turned
him down because I was afraid of the commitment. Maybe that was a
mistake, but I'll never know. Because if I ever marry someone, it will be
permanent and I'll be absolutely faithful. I couldn't do it any other
way.
"Then, when I fell in love the second time, I proved I was right not to
say 'Yes' the first time. See what I mean? I like men too much and I'd
probably fall in love once a week if I let myself. Hell, Michael, I'm
half in love with you right now, too! How could I give up an experience
like last night? I wouldn't run around on the man I married -- but what
if we got bored with each other? What if the sex got to be too ordinary?
I'm afraid to take the chance! I'm afraid of myself, I guess."
I could feel the tears and the fluttering of her eyelashes against my
ear. I stroked the small of her back and her hair and held her close for
a few silent minutes. How could someone this wonderful be afraid of
anything? I almost felt like crying with her, or for her.
But there was a bond between us now, I had no doubt of that. I also
felt certain we'd be seeing each other again.
Chapter 12:
[NOTE: From Chap 12 of the "Siblings" novel; set 1977; he's 23, she's 22.]
EXTENDED FAMILY ("CONNIE RETURNS")
by Michael K. Smith
Alex and I stood at the big window by Gate 29A and watched as the
brightly painted Aloha Airlines jet was hauled the last few yards up to
the telescoping walkway. I was nervous and it showed. My sister found
this amusing; she kept patting me on the shoulder and cooing such
constructive advice as "It's okay, Michael, it won't be long now...." I
might have found her playful condescension annoying except that I
recognized my own silliness. We were only meeting Connie Liang's plane,
after all.
Fourteen months it had been since my brief, serendipitous affair in San
Diego with that tiny beauty and I hadn't actually seen her in all that
time, though she sent me snapshots regularly. Connie and I had kept in
touch, just as we had said we would.
I had always been a lousy correspondent before this. I preferred to
simply pick up a phone and talk with someone in real-time. Telephone
rates California-to-Hawaii made that economically unfeasible, so I learned
to write letters.
Connie's letters to me arrived every three or four weeks -- usually with
extra postage because of their bulk. A single letter might sprawl across
several kinds of note paper and lined tablets, in several colors of ink:
She was writing whenever and wherever she had something she wanted to say
to me, which I took as a compliment. And she communicated as beautifully,
and as idiosyncratically, on paper as she had in person, going on at
length about anything in which she had an interest.
I heard her opinions on Hawaiian politics, the best way to build a sand
castle, the personalities of the people she worked with in her new job
with the Museum of the Pacific in Honolulu, and why I absolutely *must*
read a certain book or see a certain movie. And I heard her thoughtful
ruminations about life and the people in it, including me.
I also heard about her sex life in some detail ... partly, I believed,
because she knew it would turn me on. As she had told me in San Diego,
her enjoyment of sex was moderate in quantity but always enthusiastic in
quality.
Letters like that seem to demand that the recipient hold up his end of
the exchange, so I learned. My first discovery was that my high school
experience in journalism didn't help much. My first few attempts at
literate replies were pitiful reactions to things she had said, but soon I
was initiating discussions and venturing my own opinions. And I began
following her example by jotting a few paragraphs at odd moments on a note
pad I carried around in my briefcase. The thickness of my letters to
Connie began to rival hers.
And I, too, included candid accounts of my sexual experiences, both the
casual flirtations I enjoyed with girls I met on campus and the deeply
emotional and satisfying relationship I reveled in with Alex. I was
careful not to divulge The Secret, though.
Naturally, I had related my one-night affair with Connie to my sister,
who -- predictably -- was both pleased for me and curious about this girl
I found so fascinating. After I asked for and received Connie's
permission, Alex read all her letters and was impressed both by her
imagination and intellect and by her obvious charms, as evidenced in those
snapshots. For I should mention that the photos Connie sent were often of
the "private" variety, featuring her very own self in very erotic poses.
(I wondered who had taken them for her.)
Soon, Alex began including brief notes and then longer missives in my
letters to Connie, and Connie answered with evident delight. I felt a
growing conviction that these two wonderful ladies would get along just
fine, if we could ever arrange another meeting.
Then the opportunity suddenly arrived, in the form of an invitation from
the Humboldt Museum at the University of California to the Museum of the
Pacific, to send someone for two weeks of concentrated training in some
arcane specialty of Polynesian anthropology. Connie wangled the invite
for herself, on the grounds that being part-Chinese, part-Japanese,
part-Oceanic, and part-European gave her special qualifications. Then she
called us that evening to say she would be arriving at Oakland
International the next Friday. Alex was sharing the earpiece and
listening in; she beat me to it by insisting that Connie would stay with
us -- and no arguments!
Now, here we were, waiting for the lady to deplane. I had missed her,
for reasons of friendship as well as lustful memories. I prayed fervently
that she and Alex would hit it off as well as I hoped. And I was nervous
about this new turning point in my relationship with Connie. It *had*
been fourteen months, all our correspondence notwithstanding, and this
wasn't an unexpected interlude in San Diego; I doubted we could simply
pick up where we had left off.
Nor did I *really* know how my sister would react when she saw how
Connie so obviously affected me. Alex knew I loved her, no doubt about
that. And we both had had our flings over the years (including Alex's
"crisis of faith" in our relationship during her sophomore year in
college). But we were older now and this thing with Connie might be
different. Or maybe not -- but I was still nervous.
I spotted Connie walking along behind the velvet rope from the
passageway; she was scanning the crowd that was waiting to greet the
passengers but she hadn't seen me yet; being under five feet in height has
some disadvantages. She was wearing tight, bright red shorts, a
sleeveless white cotton shirt, and white woven leather sandals with heels.
All the colors contrasted nicely with her glowing sandalwood complexion.
Her gleaming black hair swirled as she looked about; she had let it grow
much longer than it had been in her last photo, and she looked younger
than Alex though she was actually almost two years older than me. Alex
saw her, too, and squeezed my hand.
"Michael! She's absolutely beautiful!" my sister whispered. The
admiration in her voice didn't ease my edginess, though.
Then I raised my hand and waved and Connie saw me. Her eyes lit up and
her smile flashed as she wove her way through the crowd. I was a little
hesitant in moving forward to meet her, and she saw it and slowed to a
stop. She raised those expressive eyebrows in a question that I wasn't
sure I could answer. Alex saved me by walloping me on the arm in
exasperation.
"Michael? Go and *kiss* her, you idiot! She'll think you don't want
her!"
That got us a few odd looks from bystanders but it broke through my
uncertainty. I closed the distance between us and swept little Connie up
in my arms and swung her around, like in the movies. She hung onto my
neck and laughed that tinkly laugh I remembered so well. When I set her
down she kissed me so vigorously I heard a ringing in my ears. Only now
was I realizing just how *much* I had missed her.
When we came out of our clinch, Alex was standing close to both of us,
grinning ear to ear. She hooked her arms through mine and Connie's and we
found ourselves in a warm three-way hug. Then Alex put her arms around
our so-welcome visitor, and squeezed, and bent to whisper something in her
ear, I couldn't hear what. Connie beamed and whispered something back.
Obviously, I wasn't going to be let in on this one. But my relief was
profound.
* * * * *
When we got back to our "lost" brownstone on the margin of the Berkeley
hills, I lugged Connie's bags up the steps while Alex gave her the
standard tour, upstairs and down -- together with a mock-stern warning
that she would not tolerate our guest thinking of this place as anything
less than her own home for as long as she wished. Watching them interact
so easily, I knew for certain that any fears I had had of Connie
complicating the relationship between my sister and myself were
groundless.
Neither Alex nor I had ever had more than a very few close friends --
our preference as well as a practical necessity -- but the two of them
were already behaving as if they had known each other all their lives.
Maybe that was inevitable; anyone about whom I felt so strongly almost had
to rank highly with Alex, as well. Our minds functioned that closely.
Our bed was full-size, elderly but serviceable, with wooden posts at the
corners. My first thought had been to let the girls share it while I
unfolded the double-width sofa/futon downstairs in the living room.
Connie flatly refused the offer, pointing out that she was
part-Japanese, after all, and smaller, and probably in better physical
shape than I was. She would take the futon and we would keep our own bed.
When I tried to protest, she retorted that if this was really "her own
home," then she would sleep where she pleased, so there. I threw up my
hands in surrender; I already knew that trying to argue with a decision
she had made was pointless.
It was only about nine in the evening, and Connie's internal clock
insisted it was even earlier than that, but Hawaii-to-California is a
long, tiring flight. We had planned on a light supper and early to bed,
to let her erase her reverse-jet-lag. But after supper, the girls became
so engrossed in their first face-to-face conversation in the bedroom that
after an hour or so I finally gave it up and unfolded the futon for
myself. I hadn't worn pajamas in years, so I just stripped down, flung a
spare sheet over my body, and dozed off within minutes.
I was awakened in the dark by the presence of a warm body cuddling up to
mine and the feathery touch of long fingernails drifting across my cheek.
It was Connie, wearing a very short, bright yellow nightshirt -- obviously
intended for a much younger girl, since it had a portrait of Bullwinkle on
the front.
I looked over at her and registered the soft smile she gave me. Then it
dawned on me that Alex must still be in the bedroom, asleep. This
wouldn't do. As much as I might desire Connie, I wouldn't do anything
behind my sister's back. I took her hand and opened my mouth to explain,
but she laid a finger across my lips.
"I know what you're thinking, Michael, but you don't have to worry," she
whispered. "Alex suggested I come in and claim my futon. Actually, she
ordered me to! I understand now why you love her so much. You were
worried that I might come between the two of you, even without meaning to,
weren't you?" She saw the embarrassed admission in my eyes.
"You shouldn't have worried, you know. Michael, you *must* know how
much she loves *you* -- it's in her eyes and her voice every time she
mentions your name. Didn't you know that? Maybe it just takes an
'outsider' to notice." She smiled again.
"And she knew you'd react like this! She said to tell you to remember
'the station wagon at the drive-in' ... whatever that means. But she
knows how much San Diego meant to both of us and she wants us to get
reacquainted, she really does. I don't understand why you haven't married
that girl, Michael!"
I couldn't answer that one, not truthfully, so I kissed her instead. It
took a long time to finish and it still wasn't long enough. Then Connie
sat up and pulled the shirt off over her head. Her small, perfect breasts
were as lovely as I remembered, her belly still concave, her skin still
smooth and soft with flat athletic muscles rippling beneath.
She pulled the sheet off me and lay down again and I turned onto my side
to face her, letting the palm of my hand glide down to her waist, over the
gentle swell of her hip, and along her perfect thigh. She moved even
closer to me, lying on my arm, nuzzling her head under my chin and raking
those nails lightly across my chest. When I moved my hand around to cup
one buttock, she shivered and made a little sound in her throat. Her
hands glided down my body and found my cock, already half-erect and
twitching. She curled one hand around the shaft, squeezing a little, and
cupped my balls with the other.
Strangely, I wanted only to prolong this tender foreplay. Neither of us
was going anywhere for awhile and I felt entirely at peace. If it was
possible to love another woman even half as much as I loved my sister, and
at the same time, then Connie was the object of that love.
I was sure now that Alex must have some inkling of how my affection for
this little Aphrodite had grown during the past year, and that she was
pleased, rather than threatened by it. Connie would never do anything to
disturb what Alex and I had; I was now quite certain of that.
But it still felt a little strange, perhaps because I loved Alex so
deeply both as a woman and as my sister. Connie wasn't someone I had
grown up with; I had met her fully matured, sexually and intellectually,
and I was still discovering marvelous things about her. If ever it came
to a choice between the two of them, Alexandra was the only contender...
but if there was any fairness in the world at all, that would never
happen.
After awhile, my trapped hand wrapped itself in that long, thick hair as
my other fingers brushed through the small, silky triangle above her cunt.
She bent her knee to give me access and rubbed the head of my penis slowly
across her breastbone. Her nipples had hardened and were drilling into my
ribs.
I eased one finger into her cleft and down the shaft of her clitoris,
finally plucking the center of her like a guitar string. She jerked a
little and gasped, and then laughed silently into my throat. Her thumb
rubbed across the opening in my cock, in retaliation.
I removed my hand and eased her onto her back, and she spread her legs
for me and stared deep into my eyes. I stared back, nose to nose, and
marveled at what I saw there. I painted her lips with my tongue and
kissed her again as I gradually entered her.
We took our time, as we had with our foreplay, moving slowly with each
other, shifting position slightly to create the maximum friction. Her
knees flexed and moved up and down the sides of my ribs while her hands
wandered across my back. I kissed her long eyelashes and her cheekbones
and the tip of her nose ... and she mimicked every move.
Then she gradually increased the tempo of our lovemaking, locking her
ankles high on my back and urging me to thrust as deeply into her as I
could. Several times, I could feel my climax building and I deliberately
slowed my pace just enough to prolong the pleasure. I could tell by the
changes in her breathing that Connie was also holding herself back at each
plateau. We were both sweating freely now, but I felt like I could
continue this exquisite experience forever.
Finally, after what must have been thirty minutes of continual motion, I
could stand it no longer and I began thrusting more rapidly. Connie
hugged herself to me and bent her head back, hair sprawling above her
face. Neither of us made much sound, not tonight; it simply wasn't
needed.
And when I jerked hard against her several times and came in a blinding
rush, she strained against me so that I felt the tremors rippling through
her body. We froze in position for perhaps ten seconds, holding our
breaths, savoring the perfection of the moment.
Then, finally, I eased my weight down, trying not to smother her. She
let her knees splay to the sides as she gulped deep breaths. Her hands
moved to my head and her fingers combed shakily through my hair. My cock
was still buried in her and neither of us was in a hurry to remove it.
Her lower body jerked in reaction to my post-orgasmic spasms and she
laughed quietly.
"Michael," she whispered huskily, "do you remember what I said before
about love? How I was kind of afraid of it?" I looked down at her as she
licked her lips in hesitation.
"Maybe I shouldn't say this -- maybe I have no right to, with Alex in
the other room -- but I can't help it anymore. I think I love you. I
mean, I love what we have together. I guess that includes both of you,
doesn't it? I wouldn't have thought I could share a guy with another
woman and be glad of it, but I think that's what I really mean. Oh, I
don't really know *what* I mean...."
She seemed genuinely puzzled and I had no idea what to say. Could I
possibly be this lucky? Or was it selfishness? Jesus. What I felt for
Connie was stronger than ever, and not just because my cock was still
inside her. Maybe what I felt was love, too. But it was a different sort
of love than my deep devotion to Alex. But that didn't make my feelings
for Connie any less strong. But, but, but....
I carefully withdrew from her and caressed her face and smoothed her
hair. "Connie, if it's really possible to love more than one person at a
time -- *really* love -- then I think I'm in love with you, too. I don't
know. I know that the feelings I have for you are stronger than I've ever
felt for anyone except my -- except Alex." My near slip decided me: I had
to tell her what she was getting herself into.
"There's something you have to know, Connie, something about Alex and me
that no one else has ever known...." I swallowed hard. All my carefully
developed reflexes fought against divulging what I had to say. But Connie
smiled that warm smile and again put her finger to my lips.
"I think I know what you're leading up to. When I called to tell you
about this trip, I'm afraid I discovered I had misplaced your phone
number. But I had your address, from your letters. So I called
Information and gave them the last name and the street address -- and the
operator said he had *two* listings for that name at that address,
"Michael" and "Alexandra," and which did I want? Then he corrected
himself and said it was actually the same phone number, so it didn't
matter." She gave me a searching look.
"I could only think of two explanations. One was that you were married
and hadn't told me. But I knew you too well, by then, to think you'd ever
cheat on me, much less on your wife. And you said once that you'd known
her 'all your life'. The other explanation...." Then she paused,
wondering again if she was correct in her conclusion, not wanting to shock
me if she was wrong. I saved her the worry.
"You're right, Connie: Alex and I are brother and sister. It's The
Secret." I pronounced the capital letters. "It's been very hard for us
the past ten years, getting used to the idea of being in love and keeping
everyone else unaware of it." I sighed, relieved that she knew. "Does
the fact that you figured it out and you're here anyway mean you aren't,
uh, revolted...?"
"You forget, I'm an anthropologist by profession. I imagine I can
accept almost any manifestation of love that two people can find for
themselves. Look at me, here with you! No, I'm not 'revolted'. I'm even
a little surprised to find that I'm not particularly bothered by it.
Theory and practice can be very different." This conversation was
becoming oddly scholarly, considering the circumstances.
"The two of you have never been able to tell anyone about your feelings for
each other, have you? When we all feel more comfortable -- when you two are
comfortable about my knowing your secret, I mean -- would you, if you want to,
would you tell me about it?" She touched my cheek and seemed amazed at the
tears she found there.
* * * * *
We lay for awhile longer in our warm embrace but neither of us was ready
to sleep, not now. Eventually, I climbed to my feet and lifted Connie to
hers. She clung to me and I stroked her and hugged her yet again.
"We have to talk, don't we?" she said somberly. "All three of us, I
mean."
"Yep. And we should do it now. Somehow, I doubt that Alex is asleep."
We walked into the bedroom still naked, arms around each other. As I
expected, Alex was sprawled on her back, hands tucked behind her pillow
and eyes lazily half-open. The sheet came only to her waist and her naked
breasts shimmied in the way I loved as she scooted up into a sitting
position. Both of us must have appeared apprehensive because Alex gave us
a fond smile and held out her arms.
We climbed onto the bed on either side of her and she pushed the cover
down so all of us could be comfortably naked together. My sister looked
uncommonly pleased with herself, as if she had personally engineered my
reunion with Connie. Then she took the other girl's hands and interlaced
their fingers. It was an affectionate gesture of acceptance and I began
to relax. This was going to work.
Alex looked Connie up and down, taking in her smooth, trim diver's body,
and the lustrous black hair floating around her shoulders, and her
suddenly shy smile.
"Connie, when I first saw you at the airport, I told my brother you were
absolutely beautiful -- my exact words -- and I understood why he was so
taken with you." Connie and I exchanged glances at the words "my brother"
and Alex didn't miss that, either. Her smile became even warmer and
softer.
"Yeah, I knew he'd tell you: He had to. I know how his mind works and
he's not capable of lying to someone he really cares about." Her face
became more solemn. "Do you love him?"
Connie studied my sister's face and nodded slowly, and swallowed.
Alex was blinking tears and at first I didn't understand. Then she
squeezed Connie's hands, and gulped, and said "Thank you! I'm so glad!"
She quickly pulled the smaller girl to her and hugged her tightly as they
overbalanced back against the pillow. Connie was sobbing quietly with
happiness and relief. I knew my face was trembling with the pent-up
emotion of the moment as I sat there cross-legged and gazed at the only
two people in the world whom I really cared about.
We spent the rest of that first night sandwiched together on the bed and
we all seemed to take turns being in the middle. Once, when I rose to
half-wakefulness, I found Connie stretched out along Alex's other side,
her leg cast loosely over my sister's thigh; their hair was a tangled
auburn-and-black puddle spread across the pillow. My arm was flung across
Alex's midriff, my fingers brushing Connie's hip.
I knew I didn't deserve to be as happy as I was, and I knew there would
be problems if we really did undertake to establish a three-way
partnership. I knew I would never lose Alex ... and I hoped I wouldn't
lose Connie. Our public deception would become more complicated, even
after Connie returned to Honolulu. But we could deal with all that as the
need arose. I stroked Connie's flank once, lightly, so as not to waken
her, and drifted back to sleep.
We slept late the next morning, which was Saturday, and when we finally
began to stir I found myself in the middle of the sandwich. I turned my
head and my nose brushed Alex's cheek. I nuzzled her ear and spoke as
quietly as I could.
"Sweetheart, you are, without exception, the most wonderful woman in the
history of the world." I meant it, too. "I'm still not quite sure what
happened last night -- but I know you're the key to it. Thank you...."
I turned her face with one fingertip and kissed her, long and slow. I
thought back over all the years we had struggled together to nurture this
love between us and I tried to communicate those memories and my love
through my lips to hers. We not only understood each other's desires, we
accepted and shared them. Alex seemed to melt into my body. How could
two people, even siblings and lovers, be any closer?
My sister opened her eyes and raised her head just enough to peer across
my body. She smothered a laugh and pointed with her chin. I turned to
see what was so funny. Connie lay on her back with her neck arched, her
eyes screwed tightly shut, and her lips puckered in a cartoon-kiss.
"Hey," I said softly as I hugged her against me. "We don't do that
here."
She kept the pose but opened one eye and batted her lashes at me. "Nyeu?"
she inquired brightly through pursed lips.
"No. We do this." I buried my free hand in her hair and descended on
that full, inviting mouth, kissing her as thoroughly as I had Alex. She,
too, seemed to melt against me, returning the kiss with tender
single-mindedness. And I felt my sister's long fingers softly caressing
my shoulders and neck. Alex was sending me a message I understood very
well: This is the way it should be, she was saying. Accept it and don't
worry about the future.
When the lengthy mutual surrender between myself and this miniature
goddess with the ancient eyes finally reached a satisfactory conclusion
(that is, we had to come up for air), both girls sat up spontaneously and
reached across me to each other. Slender hands moved over new territory,
touching hair and cheeks and collarbones. Then their lips joined, each
woman wanting and needing to communicate her emotions directly. They
leaned closer so that their nipples brushed together.
Their kiss was tender and beautiful and, watching them silently, I
discovered a new array of emotions I'd never felt before. They were so
different in so many ways and I wondered if I was the bridge between them.
Each was undeniably heterosexual, yet the closeness of their bodies and
the fusion of their lips and the writhing of their tongues seemed obvious
and entirely natural. Each girl spread her hands across the other's
breasts, each ran her fingers through the other's hair, and the kiss went
on and on.
I understood that this was a first for both of them -- and that what
they were sharing didn't extend to other women. It was unique between
themselves. And I was a part of it, too. Finally, slowly, they parted
and settled back on folded knees, blinking at each other in amazement, and
smiling, and weeping silently. They held tight to each other's hands
across me and I was careful not to interrupt the moment.
"Michael and I have always had each other," Alex began slowly. "But
there's never been anyone else we could really share ourselves with.
We've become like one person over the years, Connie. And it was so
lonely, sometimes, being shut out of the world by ourselves. But now..."
She couldn't finish so I completed her thought -- which, of course, was
also mine.
"But now there's you, Connie." I gently stroked her thigh, and Alex's.
"Now there's two of us ... or three, however you want to look at it."
Alex swallowed and nodded agreement. "You're like the third leg of a
tripod, Connie -- giving us a stability we never knew we needed. Until
now. And we *both* love you for it." My mind was leading me down a new
pathway even as I spoke.
"Remember, in San Diego, you said you were distrustful of commitments
because you weren't sure if you could love only one person? Now you don't
have to be afraid. Love us both and let us both love you -- that's twice
as much love as any 'normal' person is likely to find."
Both of them were watching me and listening, and the bed was becoming
damp with tears. I sat up, cross-legged, and put one arm around each
girl's shoulders. They did the same, interlocking all three of us in an
embrace of acceptance and understanding. Three heads touching, three
pairs of hands clutching, three bodies, each leaning against the others --
one person in three forms. It was what we all desired, now that we began
to comprehend what had happened. We might be physically separated but
never again would Alex, Connie, or I ever be alone.
* * * * *
The next two weeks were glorious. I taught my two sections of freshman
American history and worked on my dissertation. Alex went off to her job
at the PR firm and struggled to get new copywriters to produce coherent
English. And Connie soaked up the intricacies of Polynesian anthropology
at the university museum. And then we came home and immersed ourselves in
each other. Alex and I had found a third dimension in our lovemaking, and
Connie had twice as much exploring to do.
That first week, we were hesitant and careful, edging our ways into this
new arrangement. Connie would hover above me from behind as I lay with my
head in her lap, sheltering me with her shining, raven-black curtain of
hair, and offering her nipples to my lips so I could suck them into
quivering rigidity -- and at the same time, Alex would crouch astride my
cock and fuck herself into a panting sweat. Each of them would watch the
other's actions and their arousal would redouble.
Then Connie would lie on her back, knees raised behind her elbows, while
my cock plunged into her marvelously tight cunt -- and Alex would keep
both her middle fingers busy teasing our assholes in counterpoint. The
plethora of sensations was astonishing.
We let the urge take us as it would. More than once I was roused (and
aroused) in the middle of the night by a warm, wet mouth fastened on the
head of my penis. It might last only a few minutes and then we'd be
asleep again -- but, ah! What dreams!
Connie was a natural tease, in an entirely playful and extremely erotic
way. She also liked a little social danger with her sex, as I discovered
later that week.
Thursday was the off-day at the museum and she had come over to meet me
in front of Bancroft Hall so I could walk her on a tour around the campus.
It had rained earlier so I wasn't surprised when she showed up in a
mid-thigh red oilskin slicker, buttoned up over tight jeans and heels too
high to be practical. Being so small, though, she'd had years of
experience navigating in high heels, and they certainly suited her.
As we walked, I noticed male heads turning as we passed, students and
faculty both. Connie was always aware of her effect on men and took great
delight in it. In this case, since the lady was with me, I very much
enjoyed showing her off.
When we passed a small grove of redwoods back of Strawberry, Connie led
me beneath them and stood with her head tilted back, ooh-ing and ahh-ing
at their size. Then she took me behind the trees, out of sight of the
sidewalk, and coaxed my head down for a kiss. That was fine with me, and
I slipped an arm around her and ran my hand over her ass. The cleft
between her cheeks was very obvious to the touch -- and I suddenly
realized I hadn't felt any pockets or belt loops.
Connie giggled into my mouth and took my hand in hers and guided it
between the snaps on the front of her slicker. There was no shirt and no
jeans in there, only Connie. I stepped back in surprise and she demurely
raised one side of the raincoat to show me where her homemade denim
leggings stopped, at the tops of her thighs. Just as well I hadn't
offered to hold her coat!
We continued our (mostly uphill) stroll a bit longer, but the vision of
Connie's gloriously naked body moving under that oilskin made me
incredibly horny. Finally, we stopped and sat on a bench a few yards off
the path. Connie put her hands in her coat pockets ... but they were in
almost to her elbows before it dawned on me that the pockets must be
bottomless. I saw movement under the oilskin in her lap, one hand
reappeared, and a moist fingertip left an aromatic spot under my nose.
"Any inspirations?" she asked, and the smoke began to drift from beneath
her lashes. The front of my slacks were in danger of a puncture. I put
my left arm around her shoulders, very innocent to any passers-by, and
slid my right hand into the vacated coat pocket. Her fingers met mine and
led them down between her thighs. She scooted her ass forward on the
bench a few inches and spread her knees as much as she dared. Then, as
she spread her labia, I inserted a finger or two and went slowly to work
on her cunt.
The challenge, of course, was that she absolutely could not lose control
-- but it was a close thing. I flicked my fingertip against her swollen
clit and she gave a tiny jerk and bit her lower lip. Her gaze never left
mine, and as I moved my finger up and down, and in and out, and 'round and
about, her eyes became all pupil. When I felt her pulse quicken and heard
her breathing accelerate, I fastened my mouth to hers and sucked as
strongly as I could on her tongue. Her reaction was the same as it had
been in the hotel pool in San Diego. She moaned and clutched my sleeve
and her cunt muscles spasmed. Even her long tongue vibrated. In a sense,
she came in my mouth.
We had to sit a few minutes longer while she collected herself. And
when we finally headed back downhill to the car, I had to hold my
briefcase awkwardly in front of me, to hide the stain on the front of my
trousers.
So far, all our three-way sex had actually been two-way with a sidecar.
That Friday evening -- the one-week anniversary of our darling Connie's
arrival -- the action began to even up.
We discussed (very briefly!) what we should do with Saturday, the first
opportunity we'd had for all three of us to be together all day. The
unanimous vote was that we would not leave the house, not even to eat; we
would put the answering machine on automatic pick-up; we wouldn't even
bother with clothing for the day, unless it served an erotic purpose; and,
for at least twenty-four hours, we would indulge ourselves and each other
until we collapsed from sexual exhaustion. Saturday would be reserved for
love, sex,... and experimentation. We slept that night all in a heap on
the bed, like puppies. Caresses and kisses were exchanged, but they were
relaxed and undemanding.
* * * * *
Alex and I had been so utterly comfortable in each other's constant
presence for so long, we no longer consciously thought about it. But
Connie's welcome addition to our private world required deeply-rooted
psychological realignments. And we tried to go about it systematically.
Connie's first fascinated questions about our relationship were still
hesitant. She didn't want to embarrass us or overstep some unknown
boundary. We managed gradually to convince her that were NO boundaries --
not for her.
We volunteered experiences of joy and of pain that we would never have
confided to anyone else, even if we had been an "ordinary" couple. We
recounted the fears of our earliest adolescent relationship, when we
didn't understand what was happening to us. We remembered our first,
tentative sexual encounters, and we held hands and got sentimental as we
described for Connie our discovery that we were in love. We laughed about
our high school escapades and our experiences with others, now fondly
remembered, and how we had often sat up late to compare those experiences.
Alex somberly told of the few dates gone wrong, by which she'd had to
learn not to trust everyone as much as she trusted her brother. And I
looked away when my sister told Connie about the time I had rescued her
from a brutal date and had come frighteningly close to committing murder
in my rage at her physical mistreatment. I still felt queasy when I
remembered her bruises.
Some of Connie's questions had an academic tinge. Quite apart from her
new emotional involvement, she was trying hard to understand the
foundations and everyday dynamics of our two-body mutual orbit. And that
led us to try to explain ideas and feelings we had simply accepted before.
This whole process, this unveiling of our most private selves to
another, developed a therapeutic component we hadn't realized we needed --
and we were grateful. And Connie, though surprised, amused, sympathetic,
indignant on our behalf, and professional, by turns, was never judgmental.
All this was spread through our long evening hours together during that
first week, and by Friday Connie knew more about the two of us than any
"outsider" ever had, including our late parents. Alex and I also knew,
without having to ask, that Connie would unburden herself to us, as well,
when she thought herself ready. But not tomorrow; Saturday was to be
time-out for fun and games.
There was very little clothing to put in the wash by Saturday night --
mostly bed sheets. Connie wore a short woollen pullover when she got
chilly, which kept her upper body warm enough but also emphasized her
firm, bare ass and her small, triangular pubic patch. Alex achieved the
same effect with a cropped tee-shirt. Being a warm-blooded creature, I
simply remained naked and enjoyed the peek-a-boo scenery... when I wasn't
occupied in rearranging it.
We had fruit for breakfast,... with extra juice. We found that Alex's
pussy would accommodate twelve grapes, while Connie could hold only nine.
Tasty, too. And watching a peeled banana moving slowly in and out of
Connie's cunt did wonders for my appetite. But I had to take the girls'
word for it that a cock tasted better with smooth peanut butter than with
chunky. We knew such games were pretty silly -- but what did we care?
Anyway, it was at that point that we reached a level of genuine three-way
participation.
I lay sprawled on the floor with my head cushioned in Connie's lap while
Alex licked the last of the peanut butter from my cock. I loved the
satiny feel of Connie's skin. I wondered if it was an "Asian" thing.
Alex's thighs were also soft and smoothly muscular, and I had always loved
stroking and kissing them, but the texture was somehow different.
I turned my head and kissed Connie's flat belly. Her fingers, which had
been exploring my eyebrows, moved to touch my lips; I kissed them, too.
Having begun, I decided to kiss her all over.
Curling my arm back around her hips, I shifted onto my side so my tongue
could reach toward the secret part of her. I explored her short pubic
hair with my mouth; like the cascades that framed her face, it was
absolutely black, and absolutely straight, and absolutely beautiful. And
it felt so very soft under my lips. Connie wrapped an arm protectively
around my head and sighed.
Alex had paused in her ministrations when I moved my hips. Now she
pushed my knee up out of her way, moved my balls forward with her nose,
and buried her face in my crotch, licking and nibbling that nameless
region between my genitals and my anus. Which led me, in turn, to urge
Connie over onto her side so I could crawl face-first up into her pussy.
The scent of sex she was already beginning to produce was delicious.
(I've never understood why women wear perfume for the presumed benefit of
their men when a woman's natural aroma can be so intoxicating.)
I carefully traced the folds of her cunt lips with my tongue and watched
as the tiny muscles around them flickered. She had hooked an elbow behind
her knee to give me full access to her -- no effort at all for someone as
trim and athletic as she was.
Then Connie's pelvis jiggled about and Alex simultaneously paused in her
nibbling. I peered out to see what was happening and found the three
links of our bodies closing into an unbroken chain. Connie was moving up
Alex's legs practically hand over hand and my sister was doing her best to
help. In a moment, all three of us lay in a much closer circle, each with
one knee propped in the air and a head burrowing eagerly between a
twitching pair of thighs.
Alex moaned softly and stretched as Connie's pointed tongue entered her
cunt; it had been several years, I thought, since any tongue but mine had
explored that passage. My sister began to suck at my balls, which was a
sensation always guaranteed to stiffen every hair and organ on my body. I
gently pushed back the cocoa-tinted sheath at the peak of Connie's cunt
and sucked noisily at her protruding clitoris. The energy we were
creating ran round and round the circle, gaining amperage with each lap.
My hands were squeezing and caressing her firm little bottom and I
remembered something else from our night in San Diego. I left her clit
(which brought a small, muffled protest) and blazed a trail with the flat
of my tongue back toward the brown pucker that encircled her asshole. A
few seconds later, my sister's tongue followed the same route back between
my legs to the edge of my rectum. It couldn't be a coincidence: I was
sure Connie's tongue was rimming Alex's hole as well.
Around the ring of corrugated muscle I went, zeroing in on my target.
This was an oral variation Alex and I seldom got around to, and the
sensation was not only unusual but sublimely erotic.
We were synchronized, now, like torpedo bombers over a trio of hidden
submarines. Our tongues moved faster and faster and then, all at the same
moment, plunged into the depths beyond the rim. My cock was rigid and
straining but I was already beyond the point of mere orgasm. The strong
thrust of my sister's tongue into my ass seemed blurrily to be the result
of my own assault on Connie. I hoped the girls were experiencing
something similarly marvelous.
Instead of just darting in and out of that beautiful opening, I
continued to probe with my tongue as deeply as I could, which surprised me
in a dim sort of way. This sort of thing was right on the esthetic edge
of what I would ordinarily be willing to do, but I was aware only of the
intense sexual pleasure I was giving Connie and receiving from Alex, and I
didn't want it to end. Alex's tongue continued to writhe madly in my ass,
too, so I assumed Connie was doing the same service for her. The spark of
electricity jumped from each of us to the next, tripling our shared
ecstasy.
When we finally collapsed, I hugged Connie's hips tightly and kissed the
vee just below her breastbone. Alex held my aching penis and rubbed it
against her face until my climax broke through and fountained semen across
her flushed breasts. And I could see Connie's hands sliding shakily up
and down my sister's thighs. It was a long time before any of us was able
to change position. Or wanted to.
* * * * *
After we recovered and were able to stand upright without assistance, I
excused myself for a bathroom break. My lower body was in turmoil and I
ended up hunkered on the can for half an hour. When I emerged, feeling
several pounds lighter but much steadier, I followed the sound of low
feminine voices to the kitchen. It didn't sound like an ordinary
conversation so I peered through the crack between the door and the frame
before entering; I didn't want to interrupt anything unnecessarily.
Alex was sitting on one of the straight, ladder-back wooden kitchen
chairs, feet flat on the floor, knees spread. Connie sat astride her lap
facing her, legs dangling behind the chair. Her arms were draped loosely
about my sister's neck while Alex's hands stroked her hips. Their voices
had dropped to a murmuring chord and I wasn't sure whether they were
speaking actual words or only exchanging the meaningless cooing sounds
lovers make.
Connie leaned slowly forward and licked lightly at Alex's upturned face,
finally fastening on her mouth. My sister made long stroking passes with
her hands, moving from the smaller girl's shoulderblades to the out-thrust
curve of her perfect ass. I simply stood and watched, spellbound. They
were beautiful, very sensual women, and I had an intensely personal
interest in both of them. Watching them make slow love, I felt like a
privileged audience of one rather than a peeper.
I considered joining them but quickly decided against it. I'd had
Alex's caring and love all to myself most of my life, and Connie and I had
shared that memorable night in San Diego without my sister's presence. It
was only fair that they have as much time together as they needed, just
for themselves.
Their kiss ended very gradually as Connie hooked her heels on the chair
rungs and lifted herself up until her shimmering breasts were level with
Alex's eager mouth. My sister cupped those shallow globes in her hands
and flicked her tongue around first one nipple and then the other. Then
she picked one as her favorite and began milking it with her lips.
Watching, I felt a "ghost" tingle in my own functionless nipples; Alex
had given me that same treatment on occasion and I knew quite well the
mini-spasms it caused. Multiply that by all the nerve endings in a
woman's breasts, I thought, and it was a wonder Connie wasn't creaming all
over Alex's stomach.
Actually, Connie had arched her neck back and was pulling Alex's face
against her body with both hands. She was also balanced on the chair
rungs with her knees half-bent; her legs trembled visibly and her ass
muscles clenched and moved with the tension.
Eventually, even Connie's physical stamina gave out and she settled with
a plop on Alex's thighs. Her nipples, which I had *never* seen in a fully
relaxed state, seemed to have extended another half-inch. The two girls
embraced feverishly, hands moving everywhere, kissing whatever they could
reach. Even Connie's little-girl toes were wiggling and I thought I heard
her whisper "Oh, God...!"
My benign voyeurism had pumped up my cock as stiff as a post. I didn't
want to waste such a rousing hard-on by masturbating but I couldn't stand
my present condition much longer. I was on the point of opening the
kitchen door and fastening myself to the first female who came within
reach, when the two girls hopped up from the chair and hurried up the back
stairs toward the bedroom, hand in hand.
I stepped into the vacant kitchen and inhaled the estrogen fog; the room
smelled like a cathouse, pheromones all over the place. I could no more
resist following my two lovelies up to the bedroom than I could resist
breathing.
When I got there, Alex was already on her back on the bed with Connie in
a '69' position above her. My sister could barely reach the smaller
girl's crotch, but by propping up her head on both pillows she had managed
it. Her fingers were spreading Connie's soft folds. It was difficult to
see what Connie's lowered head was doing, behind that veil of hair.
I settled as quietly as I could in the old overstuffed chair in the
corner. At least I didn't have any clothing to get rid of. Alex saw the
movement from the corner of her eye and smiled in my direction. We locked
smokey gazes and she raised an inquiring eyebrow. Did I want to join in?
I blew her a little kiss and shook my head. I would watch for awhile and
that was all right with her, too. My cock was still stiff and I took a
grip on it where my sister could see. She grinned and returned her
attentions to her present partner.
Connie's hands were busy now, and I guessed she was parting the folds of
flesh, clearing the way to her own target. Her head moved lower and
Alex's toes curled. Not to be left behind, Alex lifted her head a bit and
began plowing her tongue up and down the length of Connie's gleaming cunt.
Connie pushed her crotch as low and as far back as she could without
losing mouth contact herself. In seconds, both women sounded like they
were slurping hot cocoa, sucking and licking and moaning, as clouds of
steam seemed to rise from each end of this two-headed beast.
My reaction was as spectacular as it was predictable. I was getting a
cramp in my arm muscle from jerking myself off so energetically. I didn't
want to come yet -- in fact, I was forming a plan for that. I watched the
two heated bodies squirming on the bed and fought to maintain my own
control.
The time came, though, as the girls were reaching a fever pitch, when I
knew it was now or never for me: Move-it-or-lose-it-time. I got up, cock
still in hand, and moved closer. Alex had had an orgasm, I thought
(though you can't always tell with a woman, even when you know her *very*
well), and was doing her best to bring Connie off along with her. Neither
of them had any special lesbian inclinations -- they were individuals
making love -- and I was a little surprised they had reached such a level
of expertise so easily. (On the other hand, what did I know? Perhaps
women are simply more subtle and articulate lovers than men, by birth.)
I stood at the foot of the bed, behind my sister's head, and she paused
and reached back to stroke my leg. I climbed onto the mattress, knees on
either side of Alex's head -- and Connie's calves -- and ran my hands
gently over Connie's back to get her attention.
"Connie, love, I have something here that's badly in need of a home...."
She raised her head enough to murmur "Do it! I'm not used to this; I
think I need it, too!" She wiggled her ass a little for emphasis. I held
her hips and urged her back toward me; I didn't want to topple over and
crush them both. Connie bent her knees more, laid her cheek against
Alex's belly, and gripped the backs of her thighs.
As I stropped my cock on the margins of that little brown cunt, I felt
Alex's lips nibbling at my balls -- an extra added attraction. Then I
slid into Connie's warm, juicy vagina and her spine straightened. I tried
to move slowly but it was a struggle. Alex had propped up her head again
and was slurping in my scrotum while her hands roamed over my legs, my
hips, my ass. The physical feedback was electric.
It didn't take long for either Connie or I to reach the brink of orgasm,
but it wasn't like we had launched ourselves from a standing start. I
held her hips more tightly as I jerked once, then twice. Connie was
gasping for breath as she climaxed. It was a wonderful feeling but I
quickly found it wasn't quite over.
I became aware that Alex had worked her hand up between my groin and
Connie's ass and was trying to get her fingers around my cock as I pulled
back for another ejaculation.
"No -- gimme ... I want it, too! Please, Michael!" The vehemence of
her demand made my cock twitch. So I left Connie's luscious cunt and my
loving sister pulled my sticky cock down and engulfed it with her mouth.
It was already hypersensitive and her tongue swirling around the head made
all the nearby nerve endings jitter wildly. I hadn't finished emptying my
balls and Alex saw to it that not a drop of my semen was wasted,
swallowing rapidly as it jetted against the back of her throat. Then she
flicked the tip of my cock with her tongue and that released a final
torrent. She sounded very pleased with herself.
When Connie coasted down from her orgasm, she crawled off Alex and
cuddled up to one side of her; I did the same on the other side and we
hugged and kissed and stroked each other in lazy weariness. We passed
several hours like that -- sated, happy, totally at ease with each other.
Toward dusk, we crawled out of bed and made our way, arms around each
other, to the bathroom. After our jubilant orgy we all were badly in need
of a shower.
When I was house-hunting, back during that summer before Alex's freshman
year, a bathroom with a larger-than-usual shower was high on my list of
desirable features. It narrowed the prospects considerably, but our time
together under the hot spray was important to us both. A major factor in
taking a lease on this mis-located brownstone was that it *was* older than
most apartments and houses I had looked at. The bathtub was a claw-footed
monster big enough for a mast, a rudder, and a crew of six. The important
thing was, it was easily large enough for three people who were on very
friendly terms.
Connie arranged the Mickey-and-Minnie vinyl shower curtain and cranked
up the hot water while my sister and I readied a stack of thick towels and
got out the big sponges. The sides of the tub came up to my knees when I
stood on the outside and I had to give little Connie a steadying hand
while she climbed in. She flipped the shower lever on and the bathroom
instantly filled with clouds of steam; no wonder the wallpaper was peeling
at the upper corners of the room.
We were too beat for much horseplay, but gentle, quiet loving under the
torrent of hot water was another matter. We all soaped each other, paying
special attention to body cavities and protuberances. Alex laid her head
back against my shoulder and we kissed, long and slow, while Connie
carefully lathered up my sister's breasts and belly.
Then we double-teamed Connie, covering all of her tight, smooth body
with suds while she basked happily in the attention. Then the girls stood
back-to-back, entwining their arms and letting their soap-slick buttocks
slide against each other -- and I enjoyed the exquisite titillation of
cupping my sister's sweet, taut breast in one hand and Connie's smaller,
springier breast in the other.
Finally, both my "best girls" moved in on me, each sucking one of my
nipples simultaneously. Then there were four nipples fluttering against
my cock, my ass, my legs -- everywhere they could reach. It wasn't really
a matter of sexual arousal -- we were all aroused to some degree all the
time, now -- but of giving each other tactile pleasure, and in that we
were certainly successful.
We hit the sack early that Saturday night -- much earlier than we had
expected to. We were young and full of energy and hormones, and any of us
could have jogged from the UC campus down to the Bay Bridge without
difficulty, yet we had exhausted ourselves in only twelve hours. And
that's the best way to do it, I thought, as I floated off to dreamland
with my arms around two beautiful women and their heads snuggled against
my chest.
* * * * *
The next morning, sitting at our kitchen table with the largest mugs of
coffee we could organize, we discussed what to do with the remainder of
the weekend. We could simply repair to the bedroom and no one would vote
it down, but I wanted to show off the two lovely ladies I had been blessed
with.
So I proposed we go into the City, stroll around Golden Gate Park and
the Palace of Fine Arts, visit Coit Tower and Mission Dolores -- the usual
sights, but the most dramatic. The spots Alex and I knew showed off San
Francisco at its best, the places we returned to again and again
ourselves.
Then the cocktail hour at the Top of the Mark on Nob Hill, followed by
dinner at Donatello (if we could get reservations). My sister and I were
aficionados of Northern Italian cuisine and Connie -- no surprise -- was a
seafood junkie: Donatello was one of the best restaurants in the City for
both. Expensive, but worth every penny -- and this was a very special
occasion.
The weather in S.F. that afternoon was glorious, comfortably cool but
sunny and dry. The frisbee-freaks thronged the park and young lovers
huddled under the trees. The girls wore their warm-weather best and drew
attention everywhere we went; walking arm in arm with them, I basked in
their reflected radiance.
Alex, with her long legs, had chosen a pleated minidress that reminded
me of a cheerleader outfit. It was dazzling white, as were her low heels,
and showed off her tan nicely. Connie preferred a blazing red miniskirt
cut straight and slim and a black sleeveless top -- her favorite colors.
She also wore low heels; San Francisco isn't a high-heel city when you're
walking and hopping on and off cable cars. But both women carried large
purses in preparation for the evening and I was carrying my basic blue
blazer and my sister's white jacket over my arm.
By 5:00, we had seen the sights on our list and Connie was mentally
comparing Honolulu's cost of living with that of San Francisco. Even
coming from the Islands, she was visibly smitten with the City by the Bay;
it's hard not to be. San Francisco can be dirty, dangerous, decadent, and
demoralizing -- but it's also exhilarating, intoxicating, and romantic,
and (when conditions are just right) so heartbreakingly beautiful that I
can't imagine *anyone* wanting to live anywhere else.
We strolled into the Mark Hopkins and split up at the rest rooms on the
2nd Floor. When we met on the Mezzanine a few minutes later, Alex's
walking shoes and ordinary pantyhose had been exchanged for white patent
heels and smoky gray hose with a seam up the back, and she was wearing her
linen jacket. Her freshly-brushed auburn mane shone. Connie had changed
to high red heels that matched her mini; over the black top she now wore a
short gold lame jacket that contrasted electrically with her thick black
hair. And I had put on my tie and blazer.
We went up the elevator to the Top with several other couples and I was
aware of the curious/envious glances of the men -- especially when Connie
laid her head against my left shoulder and took a possessive grip on my
arm, while my sister interlaced her fingers with mine and touched the back
of my hand to her lips.
We spent a delightful hour sipping our drinks on the outer ring of the
Top, watching the City rotate past; we were in a curved booth so that,
again, I could have the pleasure of a girl on each side of me. We all
three held hands on the table top and talked quietly about this marvelous
new triangular relationship that had come into being so suddenly. We must
have caused considerable gossip among the waiters.
When Alex made a hip-swaying journey to the powder room, Connie and I
squeezed each other's hands in delight and barely suppressed our glee at
the surreptitious glances she got from other patrons of both sexes. When
Alex returned, she said another woman not much older than she had tried to
pump her (diplomatically) for information about our little threesome.
"I just smiled and told her we were both your devoted fiancees," she
said straightfaced. Nothing would do, of course, but that Connie make the
same trip, whether she needed to or not.
"She's still there," Connie reported on her return. "She asked me if we
were both really engaged to you." She poked my gently in the ribs. "She
couldn't understand how two women could share the same man without being
jealous of each other. I just told her you were such a world-class lover,
we were always too exhausted to worry about it!" She could barely stifle
her giggles.
Then it was a short walk across Union Square to Donatello, where we
stuffed ourselves with veal marsala and scampi, and wine from the Esti
vineyards. We swore to each other that we couldn't eat another bite...
until the pastry cart came around and we fell all over the chocolate and
orange and hazelnut concoctions.
Our waiter that evening was a young Genoese named Pietro who confided
that he was really an artist -- but one must earn a living, Signori! I
could spot a closet romantic a block away (takes one to know one) and I
asked him if he thought it was possible for a man to be genuinely in love
with more than one woman at a time.
He smiled broadly at the three of us. "Of course, Signori! But it can
be a terrible problem: Does one man *deserve* the love of more than one
woman in *return*?"
I looked back at him more soberly. "Pietro, it is indeed a terrible
problem, and a heavy burden. Such a fortunate man must strive very hard
to be worthy of such a rare gift."
I looked into Alex's eyes and then Connie's, and then I had temporary
difficulty seeing anything clearly. Both of my darlings leaned over and
kissed me on the cheek at almost the same moment. Even Pietro looked a
little misty. He also got his largest tip of the evening.
* * * * *
The second half of our two-week odyssey of discovery was a little
different. The starting gun had fired, the first sprint was past, and now
we found ourselves settling in comfortably and naturally for the long
haul. We worked during the days, went out most evenings to introduce
Connie to our favorite haunts around Berkeley (and to show her off -- "an
old friend of ours" -- to some of our acquaintances), and spent much of
each night making love. The sex wasn't as frantic, now. Instead, we
refined our techniques with each other and made all the reassuring noises
and gestures that new lovers make.
I enjoyed falling asleep with a woman I adored and a female body I
constantly lusted after cuddled up to me on each side. I would wake once
or twice each night and lie there listening to their breathing and
delicate snoring, and I'd fall in love all over again. Often, Alex's arm
would be draped across my chest while Connie's arm crossed my body from
the other direction a few inches lower.
Wednesday night, I woke gradually from an enormously sexy dream and
found both of them quietly licking my quivering cock from both sides at
once.
"It's just us," Alex whispered.
"Thank God for that,..." I murmured and simply lay there, indolently
enjoying the attention. I repaid both of them Thursday night by very
quietly and gently sucking at each girl's tits until she was moaning in
her sleep.
Saturday was a sad day in spite of the joy we took from simply being
together. It would be our last day and our last night together, at least
for awhile, because Connie had to be on her plane at 10:30 Sunday morning.
None of us felt like carousing as we had the previous weekend. Without
any real discussion, we spent the day quietly and domestically. We made
sure all of Connie's clothing was gathered up from around the house, and
was washed and packed. We collected all the books and souvenirs she had
acquired in two short weeks and packed them in a couple of cartons for
direct shipment. And we made ourselves more and more miserable in the
process. When Monday morning came, Connie wouldn't be there with her
broad smile, her dancing eyes, her devious puns. She wouldn't be there to
stand on tiptoe and kiss each of us good morning. She wouldn't.... Hell.
In mid-afternoon, I was standing at the bedroom window staring morosely
out at the gray sky, when Alex stuck her head in the door and beckoned
urgently. She looked worried. I quickly followed her down to the living
room and discovered Connie sitting on the big, old overstuffed sofa, the
one that had been in Alex's room when we were young.
She was huddled against the back cushion with her legs drawn up
protectively and her arms hugging them. Her face was pressed down against
her knees; her cascading hair hid almost all of her from view. It wasn't
until I saw her shoulders move that I realized she was crying.
"She won't talk to me, Michael." My sister looked at me anxiously and
urged me toward her with one hand. Whatever had upset Connie was
upsetting Alex as well.
"I don't think she wants talking," I replied and went to the small,
huddled figure. Curled up in a ball like that, she seemed not much bigger
than a child, never mind that she was older than me. I wasn't quite sure
what to do, either.
I sat carefully next to her and leaned close, and I heard her muffled
sobs. They made my chest ache. I gently stroked her head and let my hand
linger on the back of her neck, a warm presence she couldn't ignore.
"Sweetheart, what is it? Connie? Please tell me what we've done...."
I spoke softly, as I would to a child. I was pretty sure we *hadn't* done
anything to upset little Connie -- and I was pretty sure she wouldn't let
that question go by.
She finally raised her head and looked at me; her lovely eyes were
swollen and red and the knees of her jeans were soaked with her tears.
Her mouth was contorted with something like anguish. It was a few minutes
before she could regain some measure of control but she still had
difficulty speaking. She *did* seem like a little girl.
"Oh -- it -- it wasn't -- anything -- you did, Mi-- Michael! Or -- or
Alex. I -- I *love* you guys! I just -- I just -- don't want to -- to go
*home*...!" And she broke down again and buried her face in her hands. I
glanced over at Alex, holding her clenched hands under her chin in
sympathetic pain, and she moved around to Connie's other side.
"Connie, darling, we love you, too!" My sister seemed on the verge of
tears herself as she took the other girl's hand.
I could think of only one immediate therapy. I slipped one arm behind
Connie's knees and the other around her shoulders, scooped her up, and set
her on my lap. She buried her face in my chest and her small frame shook
with renewed sobs. I put my arms around her and held her and rocked her a
little, making hushing sounds and stroking her hair.
It might have looked silly to an outsider, but it worked, over a period
or ten or fifteen minutes -- and it dawned on me quite suddenly that I had
used the word "Outsider" in my mind in its old sense of "everyone but
Alex-and-me." Connie had become fixed in my thoughts as one of "us."
She snuffled and gulped and blotted her eyes on the hem of her T-shirt.
Then she saw the large damp spot on my shirt and made a "huh" sound, which
was as close as she could get to a laugh. She didn't look embarrassed at
her loss of control; she knew that honest emotion, even as intense as this
had been, was never anything to be ashamed of in this house.
"I thought I could get through today without losing it." She looked
sadly at the two of us. "But it just hit me all of a sudden that I won't
*be* here tomorrow morning. God, I want so much to stay here with you --
or take both of you with me. There *has* to be a way for us to stay
together!"
I cupped her chin in my hand. "Sweetheart, we *will* find a way. It'll
take a while and I have *no* idea *how* we'll do it -- but we will. I
promise you, Connie: We'll find a way."
I hadn't noticed that Alex had moved over until her arms circled my neck
from behind and I felt her cheek press against mine. She was sniffling a
little, too, as she kissed my ear. She reached out and touched Connie's
cheek and added, "Now that we've found each other, nothing's going to keep
us apart. Not anything, Connie."
Since Connie's gear was organized and ready to go, the three of us spent
the rest of Saturday pretending Sunday would never come. There was a
Bogart mini- festival on TV that evening and we lounged around in various
configurations and watched "Casablanca," "To Have and Have Not," and
several others. We popped popcorn and fed it to each other.
For awhile Connie sat in my lap like a kid, with her head leaning
against my chest. Then I lay with my head in Alex's lap -- my favorite
spot in the universe for many years. Connie and Alex propped each other
up on the sofa while I sat on the floor with my back to the furniture and
massaged the bare feet they draped over my shoulders. We made an effort
not to feel there was any hurry.
That night, we went back to the simple formulas. Alex and I made love
in the tried and true missionary position. As many times as we had fucked
over the years, the desire in each of us was as strong as it had ever
been. As I reached a gasping climax, Connie lay beside my sister, kissing
her long and soulfully, nibbling at her ear, and holding her hand.
A little while later, I lay on my back with Connie impaled above me as
Alex licked her breasts and her ears and stroked her sweet ass. Then the
girls lay side by side, kissing and caressing each other's bodies, while I
lay behind Alex and stroked and petted them both. And I tried to think of
a way for all of us to remain together that wouldn't require someone's
career to be sacrificed.
Sunday morning we laughed and joked to cover the somber mood. We got
Connie to the airport and sat around holding hands and smiling at each
other until it was time for her to board. At the last minute, as our
emotions threatened to unravel again, we indulged in another three-way
clinch, as we had two weeks before.
Connie hugged both of us tightly and then said with fierce resolution,
"You guys start shopping for a larger bed. By this time next year, I'll
be back -- to stay!"
And as Alex and I stood at the observation window and watched the plane
taxi out of sight around the corner of the terminal, we hugged each other
and managed to hold back most of the tears. We were sure we could find a
way to reunite our new family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere
for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Chapter 13 - Chapter 17 not written yet)
Author: Michael K. Smith <mksmith1@BELLSOUTH.net>
-- CJ
I don't write any stories. I'm just a reader, and sometimes a reposter.
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/><http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>