Charlie and Mindy Bk. 03 Ch. 06byCarlusMagnus©
This is the sixth chapter of seven in Book 3 of Charlie and Mindy, which is a story of forbidden love between a brother and a sister.
This book stands on its own, but it refers to events that took place in Books 1 and 2. You may therefore want to read Book 1 and Book 2 before reading this book.
I value your comments and your feedback, and, circumstances permitting, I will respond to either—usually within a week.
Friday, January 15, 1988
The alarm clock rang at 5:30 am, right on schedule, to get us up in time to catch our flight back to school. The clock was on the table on my side of the bed, and we'd rolled into our favorite spoon position during the night. So it was behind me, and in order to turn it off I had to untangle myself from my sister's naked, no-longer-sleeping, little body. I also turned on the light that stood beside the clock.
Immediately, I rolled back—to finish waking up. And as I did, I made sure that my morning wood slid back into Mindy's crack. I vaguely recalled that that was where it had been when the clock went off. And that it had been happy there.
"I love to find you in my arms when I wake up," I mumbled drowsily into her ear. As I spoke, my right hand found her left tit, cupped it, and squeezed it gently.
"I like finding your boner where it is now when I wake up," she mumbled back. She wiggled a bit and clenched her ass-cheeks to punctuate her statement. "Mmmm. And I really like what your hand is doing to my boob." She wiggled some more.
I lay there, still half asleep, enjoying the warmth of the bed and the soft warm femininity of my little sister. We stretched against each other, each enjoying the feel of the other's body as consciousness returned. I heard familiar cooking noises coming from the kitchen, as Mom—who must've gotten up somewhat earlier—fixed our breakfast.
Mom! I thought—briefly panicked that she would catch us.
And then I remembered.
Mom had figured out that my sister Mindy and I were both fucking regularly. Not that she had much objection to fucking as such. But what she had figured out was that we were fucking each other, and not just regularly, but as often as we could.
Fearing that I'd been coercing Mindy, Mom had confronted her privately. After that, she'd called me into the room, where I'd found Mindy in tears of mixed grief, rage, and fear. Mom, also in tears, had talked to us both briefly, and then she'd dismissed Mindy and talked to me privately.
When I'd figured out where Mom stood, and that she and Mindy had exchanged some harsh words, I'd excused myself—a bit too abruptly—to find and comfort Mindy. A few minutes later, after collecting herself, Mom had joined us and talked to both us together again. Then, knowing we had to get up early this morning, she'd sent me off to get ready for bed while she and Mindy made peace with each other.
Mom had been gentler with me than she had been with Mindy, probably because Mindy had convinced her that we'd made thoughtful decisions untainted by seduction, duplicity, or coercion. And then, simply by reacting honestly both to Mindy's need and Mom's probing, I'd convinced her that Mindy and I were truly and deeply in love with each other.
Mom was very clearly not pleased with our relationship, but, once she knew that we'd made our choices freely and that we each professed love for the other, she had told us that she would try to accept what was between us and support us in the difficulties she foresaw. She had to accept the fact that we were now adults, she said, capable of making our own choices. And so she also had to accept the choices we made—even if she thought they were wrong choices. The alternative, she was afraid, was that she could lose us both—and she found that prospect unthinkable.
And then, after I had gone to bed Mom had demonstrated her resolve to support us. She told Mindy explicitly that lovers should sleep together whenever possible—naked. And then she sent Mindy to my room—and my bed. If we had not already been deeply in love with each other, the fuck that we had shared as a result would certainly have gone a long way toward getting us into that state.
The lateness of the hour and our emotional states that evening had precluded much discussion, so Mindy hadn't had a chance to tell me about what she and Mom had said in private. That was going to have to wait. So was the fuck that Mindy's warm little body, snuggled up against me, had made me want that morning as we awoke together. We had a plane to catch, and there was no time, either for discussing or for fucking.
But there was time for me to plant a big sloppy wet kiss on the back of her neck. I felt her quiver at the touch.
"I love you so much," she said softly. Mind-reading, then, as usual, she went on. "And I want to, too. But I think we have to get up now."
"I love you even more," I replied, also softly. Sound carried in our parents' house. "And I'm afraid you're right. And we have to face Mom."
Mindy was already rolling away from me. As she stood up, she gave me a 100-watt smile. "It'll be OK," she said. "She said she's cool about us touching each other a little. She really liked the way you held me and comforted me last night."
The smile brightened to 150 watts. "I liked it even more, Big Brother.
"She thinks she'll be OK if we behave around her pretty much the way married couples behave in public. Some light touching and kissing are fine, but no groping and no tongue action."
"You're kidding," I said, as I rolled to the other side of the bed and got out. I was still having trouble believing that Mom was going to accept us as a couple.
"No, that's what she suggested last night. We can talk after she drops us off at the airport."
She looked directly at my boner, which still stood proud. She whispered, with more than a hint of longing, "I wish we had time to do something about that."
My gaze traveled up and down her little body, missing nothing. I started around the bed toward her, evil thoughts in my mind. "Maybe—" I began.
She interrupted me in a stage whisper. "Oh, no you don't, Buster!"
And she scooped up her clothes from where she'd dropped them on the floor the night before and scampered—just ahead of me—out the door.
I wanted to follow her, but knowing that Mom was up and about, I thought it was probably not a good idea to go running down the hall buck naked, my hard-on leading the way, as I chased my naked little sister. I stopped at the door. When she realized I wasn't following her, she turned around and grinned at me. I looked at her through the door; she was well out of reach. She blew me a kiss, whispered "Maybe tonight," and disappeared into the bathroom.
About twenty minutes later, well-showered, properly-groomed, and fully-clothed, we walked down the stairs together. As we did, I reflected on how little time it took to shower when only one body was involved—and how little fun it was.
I felt pretty awkward about facing Mom that morning, but there was no escaping it. I was going to have to do it. Nevertheless, I hesitated when we reached the bottom of the stairs.
Mindy would have none of it. She reached out and took my left hand into her little right hand. She pulled me closer, reached up, and gave me a peck on the lips.
She smiled up at me and whispered, "You've faced worse. She isn't a Doberman. She won't bite. Come on." And, without further ado, she stepped out for the kitchen—where Mom was putting bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the table. She didn't release my hand, so I could either step out beside her or I could make a scene. I stepped.
I must've had apprehension written all over my face; I suppose I looked like a six-year-old who knows he's fucked up and expects to get his butt blistered. Mom looked up at us and smiled as we entered. And when she looked at me, her smile deepened.
"Oh, Charlie," she said, "you're not in trouble. And you're definitely not a little boy any more."
She stepped over to me, took each of my upper arms into one of her hands, and pulled me down so that she could kiss me on my left cheek. Hands still on my arms, she looked up at me. "If you're going to be grown up about the things you want to do, you have to try to be grown up about the things you don't want to do, too."
As I always do when I'm embarrassed, I had a snappy comeback ready. "Umm…, Uhhh…, Errr…"
"I see," she said, still smiling. "Being a grown-up does take some practice, and you haven't had as long to practice as I've had." She pulled me down and kissed me on the other cheek. "And the more difficult parts do take more practice."
She released me with a slight tug toward my seat at the table. "Sit down and have some breakfast while you think about it."
She turned to Mindy and hugged her. Mindy, younger than I but definitely more grown up at the moment, returned the hug. Whatever the unpleasant things they'd said to each other the evening before might have been, it seemed they were water over the dam now.
Mindy and I sat down in our usual places. Mom poured coffee for all of us and sat down in her usual place. She looked at the two of us, smiling. There was a twinkle in her eye. "I hope," she said, "that you two slept well." The emphasis she'd put on the word "slept" was slight, but it was unmistakable—and it meant she wasn't talking about sleep at all.
My face must've betrayed me again; this was evidently a good morning not to be playing poker. She smiled an evil smile—worthy of Mindy—and said, "Don't look so surprised, Charlie. I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to be young and in love. And even though I'm middle-aged, I'm in love, myself. But I'll try not to tease you any more—at least until you're awake."
Mindy was sitting at my right; partially concealed by the table, her little left hand reached over and squeezed my right knee a couple of times. As I reached for the syrup for my pancakes, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Mom had picked up on Mindy's action and winked at her.
And, finally, it sank in. Mom had accepted the fact that her children had become each other's lovers. And if she still harbored bad feelings about that, she wasn't going to let them affect the way she treated us.
The trip back to school wasn't quite as bad as the trip home had been. We had only a couple of hours on the ground at O'Hare, and we used a noticeable fraction of that getting from our arrival gate to our departure gate. The holiday travel season was mostly over, now that it was mid-January, so O'Hare lacked a few of the worst elements of a zoo and a few of those of an insane asylum.
We found enough privacy in the airports to talk about what we'd been through in the last 24 hours. Mindy, though, wouldn't tell me everything that had passed between her and Mom. All she would say was that they'd both said things they didn't mean, that she and Mom were both ashamed of themselves for saying them, that they'd agreed to forget them, and that they were better forgotten. I already knew that girls don't fight fair with boys; now I gathered that girls don't fight fair with each other, either.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was already near the horizon, when we got back to the campus. The dorms were open, because everyone was expected back that evening—registration for the spring semester being the next day. We dropped off Mindy's suitcase at her dorm, and went to my apartment to drop off mine. We said "Howdy" to George, who was already back. Then we picked up the red pack filled with our fucking supplies, and we went to Burger Cheapie for a quick supper. When we'd finished, it was almost dark.
It was fully dark outside by the time we reached the library. Classes were not in session, and, as always under those circumstances, the library was practically empty. So we had no trouble getting down to the second lower level unobserved, and then sneaking into the secured area with the fucking pack. And, once there, we enjoyed a fuck on our old quilt.
Afterward, we lay there, on one half of the old quilt, with the other half thrown over us, naked together, sharing our bodies. We decided together that, it now being rather late in the evening, we'd look Buck and Steph up the next day, after registration. We found that we very much wanted to see them—and not only because there were things we needed to discuss with them. We truly enjoyed their company.
Saturday, January 16, 1988
By some unimaginable oversight on the part of the powers that schedule students for registration, Mindy and I were scheduled to register for our spring courses at the same time—9:30 am. So I walked over to Pussy Hole, the freshman women's dormitory, a little after nine, to meet her.
She was waiting for me, and we walked over to the gym (where registration was to take place) together—though separated from each other by the chaste two feet or so of space people think appropriate for a brother and a sister. At least it was a miserably cold day, and even if we'd been able to put an arm around each other as we wanted to, our heavy coats would've made the contact only a tiny bit better than the space.
Most of the courses we wanted to enroll in for the spring semester were continuations of the courses we'd taken in the fall, and just about the only other people who wanted to enroll in those courses were the very same people who'd taken them with us during the fall. That meant that spring enrollment went smoothly and our schedules didn't change very much.
My schedule didn't change at all—everything I signed up for (except for Phys. Ed., which doesn't really count) was a continuation. I did feel a slight pang of regret when I learned that Prof. Liddell wasn't teaching American History II, although it was scheduled for exactly the same time slot as American History I had been.
He had been the most challenging professor I'd ever taken a course from, and, in spite of myself, I'd miss the crackling precision of the pompous old bastard's dry voice. I'd miss the dreadful workload he imposed, too—much in the way I missed the restrictions I'd been placed under when I'd hit my head too hard back in November.
Mindy continued the courses she was taking and added an additional four-hour course, Spanish I, meeting from 1:00 to 1:50 every weekday except Wednesday. She'd done so because she was thinking of majoring in French—and language majors were required to take four semesters of a foreign language other than their majors.
The additional course brought her load up to nineteen credit hours. That's more of a load than most students can carry comfortably, and she'd needed to get permission from the Dean of Students to enroll in that heavy a load. But Mindy was very definitely not one of those "most students". Neither of us thought that she would have trouble—though we expected that she would be busier than she had been during the fall. Dean Stone looked at her grade report, agreed that she would be able to handle the load, and that was that. Once in a while, college administrators make good decisions.
Even though registration had been easy, it had taken us over two hours to fill out forms, get the dean's permission for Mindy's load, collect an enrollment card for each of our courses from the appropriate table, and deliver everything to appropriate windows. When we were done, it was close enough to lunch-time that we simply headed for Krojer, got some sandwich fixings, and took them to my house.
George was at home, which was just as well. If he hadn't been, Mindy and I would've been tempted to tear each other's clothes off and fuck. That would've been dangerous, because he'd enrolled earlier than we had and we couldn't even begin to guess when he'd be in or out of the house during the rest of the day.
As it was, we threw the sandwich stuff onto the kitchen counter and invited him to join us. Strictly speaking, neither George nor I still had teen-age appetites (he'd turned twenty in November), but there's little difference between a nineteen-year-old guy and a twenty-year-old guy when it comes to how much they eat. And Mindy's appetite, though female, was a teenage one. So we were all a bit surprised by the devastation we wreaked on what Mindy and I had thought was a fairly generous load of groceries.
We learned that George's schedule hadn't changed a lot either—except that his physics course now required two afternoons of lab instead of just one. So he would be out of the apartment from one to four every afternoon during the week except for Monday. He had also increased his load by adding a three-hour course, "Introduction to Biochemistry," that met from ten to eleven on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Mindy and I had nothing until eleven on Wednesdays, so that meant more time for our Wednesday morning exercises.
We knew that Buck and Steph were scheduled to register at one o'clock that afternoon, so Mindy and I just hung out around my apartment with George (who had nothing better to do, either) until a little after two. Then we headed out for the gym, hoping to catch them as they left.
We'd timed things fairly well. We'd waited only about ten minutes at the exit door from registration when the two of them came out. They were as happy to see us as we were to see them. Buck and I shook hands while Mindy and Steph squeezed each other. Then Buck and Mindy squeezed each other while Steph and I squeezed. And, as I held her against me, I silently cursed the cold weather that put an additional two layers of clothing—heavy clothing—between me and Steph's ample rack. After the squeeze, I held her in my arms for a moment, looked down at her, and kissed her, gently and briefly, on the lips. "It's so good to see you again," she whispered after the kiss.
"Yes," I whispered back, "I'm glad to see you, too." And we broke our embrace to find that Buck and Mindy were breaking a similar embrace.
"We were going to see if we could find you guys," Buck said. "We want to have you over for dinner this evening. Nothing fancy—just spaghetti."
"We'd love to," Mindy said. "Can we do anything?"
"Well," Steph allowed, "we haven't done all of our grocery shopping yet, and we were going to go from here to Krojer. We still need salad fixings and some decent bread. We could all go, and then go to our place from there."
"Good idea," I said. "That way we can all spend the afternoon together."
By the time we'd made the grocery trip and gotten to Buck and Steph's place, it was a little after four. A wonderful odor of spaghetti sauce permeated the little house. Steph had already started it before they'd gone to registration. "It needs to simmer at least all afternoon," she said with a smile.
Buck got a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator and poured a glass for each of the women. Then he handed me a beer and got one for himself.
"You've got more foresight than me, Buck," I said. "I don't have any beer or wine in my refrigerator."
"We didn't leave town for the break," he said. "We don't really have anywhere to go."
"Shit," I said. "We didn't think about that. If we'd thought, Mindy and I would've had the two of you come to Ft. Collins with us."
"That's a very nice thought," Steph chimed in. "Thanks. But we'd probably not have wanted to spend the money on the plane tickets.
"And Steve and I had very nice Christmas and New Year holidays alone with each other. Didn't we, Steve-ster?" She sent him a smoking glance—it would've torn all of my clothes off if it had been directed at me.