A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words Ch. 04

Her thighs twitched again, and she chuckled and then said:

"Wanted to surprise you."

"You sure did! At least you blushed."

"Yeah, I did, especially when you were suddenly standing there, staring at me."

"That's good, at least, posing like some girl in a painting."

"Um-hmm! One by Modiliagni. Well, I think he painted her more than once as a reclining nude."

"More like 'naked' I was thinking."

She had sat up and nodded with a smirk, agreeing:

"The way I was feeling. Hm-hm-hmm! Wondering if her nipples were aroused like mine were."

"They were."

"I mean before, when I was just waiting for you."

"Hmm? Hers probably were, if he painted her like that more than once; must have – well – known each other better."

"Like we do?"

"Fucking right," I replied, only then realizing the word I had used.

She grinned and said:

"You shouldn't use language like that, but that's a good idea."

"You're wicked."

"And enjoying it! Shower? I just went – on the toilet."

She smirked, which didn't seem necessary. She followed to our parent's bedroom. I pulled off my shirt, and then smirked, myself, and said:

"Took off my shorts at lunch, felt as good as I expected."

"Really? Oh, that's good, probably better than without my bra."

"More to feel good than just your nipples rubbing."

"More? Like bigger? I like that."

I unbuttoned my pants and let them drop. She hummed at the sight of my swollen cock, and grinned, adding:

"Yeah, like that."

"Hm-hmm! A couple of times it was even bigger, well, didn't move so much."

"Why guys should wear jockey shorts."

"Unless they want someone to notice."

"Mmmm! Like in our story, easier for me to hold. I want to again."

I had taken off my shoes and kicked off my pants. I asked:

"In the shower? I got to go."

What I hoped."

As we went in the bathroom, I made the connection: she wanted me to go and wanted to hold my cock. As we stepped in the shower, she snickered slightly and said:

"I tasted it – on the toilet."

Her repetition of that phrase explained why she had smirked before.

"Your 'peepee'?" I asked, now only half surprised, using our childhood expression."

"Tasted a lot less strange than you do."

"Why did you want to do that?"

"Curiosity. Well, I guess a lot raunchy curiosity."

"That, for sure."

We were standing in the shower, this conversation having distracted me from my having to go. Her hand was looking like it wanted to hold my cock, down next to it, her fingers moving a little. She really did want to hold my cock when I went. I did, and her hand did. She hummed and directed it up on her stomach. I snorted and pressed, making my stream rise higher. She chuckled and directed it even higher, but when I pressed again, she was disappointed, it was dying down. Then she really surprised me, catching some of it in her other hand and tasting it. She snorted, giving me a glance, and murmured:

"Tastes about the same."

"Raunchy!" You wanted to do that?!"

"Guess so; I did. Hm-hmm! Is 'raunchy' worse than 'wicked'?"

"Just more wicked."

"Oh, that's all right; I thought I was already as wicked as I could be."

"I did too."

We chuckled and then began to laugh. Still laughing, we began our shower. Then we were chuckling and snickering at the way we were washing each other. We had washed each other's asshole, enjoying it. Then I was surprised again when she soaped her fingers, very surprised, when a soapy finger found mine again and probed. I gave a startled "uhn!" It tightened, but then relaxed, and her soapy finger took advantage of the opportunity to probe deep.

Oooh! If it wanted to, if she wanted to ... It did again. Oooh! Shit! Slipping even deeper! She thought that would feel good? Damn! It did! What gave her that idea?

"Me too," she murmured. If it felt good for me, it would for her, regardless of how she came to think so. My soapy finger found her asshole. It felt like it was trying not to keep my finger from probing. She was as raunchy and wicked as she could be! And I was too, wanting to plunge my finger in her asshole and feel hers in mine. My cock was as erect as it could be, and her pussy was probably clutching like her asshole was! Shit! It almost felt like I could come this way, just from her finger moving there! How long were we going to do this?

Suddenly, the water was cold. We had used up all the hot water. We stopped and moved out of the downflow and washed our fingers. I didn't know what to say. She murmured:

"Do that to me again, when we do it 'like that', the soap dispenser in the kitchen."

I just nodded, still a little shocked from what we had done and that it had felt so arousing. I was going to find out how much her pussy contracted with my cock in it, when my finger was doing that again. As we dried ourselves, my aroused cock quickly sinking, I wasn't so enthused by her having explained about the soap dispenser, not liking so much planning. Having sex was supposed to spontaneous, but this was for her, her idea, what she wanted to do before she had her period and then couldn't. When did she want to do it, where?

"Let's have a beer first," she said, after we had hung up our towels.

That answered my first question. I nodded, thinking that I had asked for more planning. On the way to the kitchen, I rationalized that if she was just going to be able to suck my cock for the rest of week, she had the right to plan whatever we did this evening. We took our first sips of beer without speaking. I wondered if she maybe also felt like I did. At least, I wasn't going to have to run to the kitchen to get the soap dispenser. When I glanced at it by the sink, it seemed somehow more prominent than ever before. She also glanced at it. Had she noticed my glance? We had another sip of beer. Then she looked at me with a slightly wry expression and said:

"A little funny, so much talking about it first."

"Um-hmm, what I was feeling."

She shrugged with an apologetic little smile. I felt that I had to reassure her and murmured:

"But we know that it's going to be very good; nothing wrong with a little planning to make sure it is just like you want it."

"You're sweet," she replied, pursing her lips, and we had another sip.

I seemed to have said the right thing. She gave me sly smile and said:

"I want to do it on the bed; I almost had a cramp when I was kneeling on you so long on the sofa."

"Good idea. Hm-hmm! Then you can stretch your legs out, draw up your knees, just wave your feet in the air."

"If you want. Maybe lock them behind your ass, so you can't get away."

"Or that too, although I'm pretty sure that I won't want to get away."

"Just 'pretty sure'?"

"Okay, very sure."

We snickered and had another sip. This kind of planning was fun. I glanced down at my cock, that seemed to have lost its allergic reaction to eavesdropping on this kind of talk. I grinned and asked:

"And how are you going to make him think it's a good idea?"

She grinned back and replied:

"Like this morning, of course. That was just a warm-up for now."

"Oh, I could have thought of that," I replied facetiously, adding: "but you said you almost couldn't stop."

"Um-hmm! Maybe I really can't stop this time."

"He won't mind that, but then?"

She smirked and replied:

"He won't mind, and then I'll be all wet. He'll be where I want him, before he can have any second thoughts about ... , well, taking a rest."

"Hmm! You know him better than I do."

"I doubt it, but he and my pussy know each other very well."

"They do!"

He hadn't lost completely his allergic reaction to our talking. She stared at him and murmured:

"Mmmm! You like that, when I say 'pussy,' don't you? You're not going to disappoint me."

I tried to make him move. He did. She grinned up at me and said:

"He's listening, nodded. Well, I think it was a nod."

"I do too," I agreed.

We grinned and emptied the little in our beers. When she put hers on the counter, she grabbed the soap dispenser. It seemed smaller than it had, when I had glanced at it. We hurried back to our parents' bedroom and flung back the covers. I remembered that she could want to stretch out her legs and sat down in the middle of the bed. She clambered between my legs, dropping the dispenser near my hip. Hardly giving me a glance, she crouched down and began to suck my cock.

Feeling her sucking my cock, I was completely happy - of course! I meant, completely happy with her planning what she wanted to do, and we had turned it into the kind of spontaneous banter that we enjoyed, and if she wanted my soapy finger in her, I now liked her suggestion of using the dispenser.

This was only the preliminary for what we really wanted to do. Had she considered that making my cock come in her mouth first would let it enjoy longer feeling her pussy trying to make it come again? It would, if we could do that, and if we couldn't, we would, fucking: sitting up, lying down – which of us on top?

Those thoughts flashed through my mind in the few seconds before my cock was too aroused to let me think of anything except the sensations that were making it twitch. She didn't do anything to prolong my pending orgasm, and I rocked my hips before a reflex made them move.

I moaned, and she moaned. Her head was bobbing up and down, and her hand was moving with it on my cock. I groaned, my hips now twitching by themselves, and then grunted, and my cock started to spurt. She moaned, nodding slightly, as her head continued to bob. Then I could think again: we had done it! Faster than ever before? Another time we could enjoy a prolonged cock-sucking. Yeah, the next few days.

Then I couldn't think any more; she was already clambering up over my thighs, her hand still holding my cock and guiding it to the mouth of her vagina. Fuck! She had been right: it didn't have any time to think about taking a rest; her pussy was descending on it – as wet as she had promised. Tight pussy! We both moaned, but only once; it was all the way in her, her pussy squeezing it. Then she had her arms around me, finding my mouth with hers, and not just her tongue was slipping in my mouth. She had saved some of it for me to taste.

For a few moments, we kissed, then she raised her head and moaned, then whispered:

"See? I told you he could," and chuckled in her throat, as her pussy squeezed my cock again.

"Kind of thought so; they know each other so well."

"Um-hmm! So fucking well!"

"You said I shouldn't use such language."

"Unless we're doing it."

"Oh, like that?"

"Like this."

Her pussy clutched my cock again, and she chuckled in her throat again. I replied:

"Oh? Like that?"

"Same thing, this or that. And now, 'like that'."

I nodded. "Like that" was with my finger - soapy finger – in her asshole, and her rubbing herself. When I found the dispenser with my hand, she nodded. Behind her back, I squirted soap on the fingers of my other hand. When my fingers rubbed over it, she nodded with an emphatic, encouraging "um-hmmm!"

My finger was even slipperier than it had been in the shower. Her asshole tightened on it, but when it relaxed, and I probed, it slipped easily further in it. She groaned softly, but nodded, and it relaxed again, and the second joint of my finger was in her. She moaned with another nod, and when I moved my finger tip, her moan was more a chuckle. And now when it tightened, I felt her pussy squeeze my cock. It probably had before, but I hadn't noticed, just aware of what my finger had been doing. My cock liked that, of course, and she did, nodding with a pleased sounding "um-hmm."

This was being good, just having to wiggle my finger a little to make her pussy make my cock twitch. They knew each other so well, also in the biblical sense of the word; especially in that sense. She – pussy – wasn't going to let him forget why he was there, not with my finger moving in her asshole.

Oh? We weren't just a cock and a pussy; my sister Vicky's voice:

"This is good, so fucking good!"

"Um-hmm! Funny, I was just thinking that she, your pussy, wasn't going to let him forget why he's there."

"She won't! She want's you to suck my nipples."

"Hm-hmm! I do, but I didn't know that she knew about them."

"Fuck you! Suck them!"