Cured for Christmas

byscouries©

"It wasn't a College course, it was an extramural thing," my sister protested as she sat up. Her breasts, jiggling with the movement, again drew my eyes.

"There weren't any boys in the class of course so we had to partner up with each other," Emmanuelle explained. "Your sister made my nipples ache the first time she touched them. Then my pussy," she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders. There wasn't a hint of shyness in the French girl's voice. Her puffy, pink nipples were just sitting there waiting to be sucked. Nipples that were a delightful contrast with my sister's thicker and darker ones.

"What school of massage therapy includes touching your partners pussy," exploded from my mouth. Bloody, northern, lesbian colleges I cursed silently.

"It wasn't the first lesson," sis interjected.

"We were practicing at home," Manny added with a leering laugh as she let her fingers move onto my sister's hip. "Then of course we got to the oral sex," she added.

"I'm sure Roberto doesn't want to hear about that," my sister insisted.

"That's for sure. American boys never seem to be interested in oral sex," Manny said dismissively.

Listen, I was a nineteen year old freshman at the University of Miami and someone who believed he was pretty sophisticated in the ways of women. But I hadn't met a French lesbian before! This was a girl who could, and who did, talk about every aspect of sex in the most open and blunt way imaginable.

I think both Melissa and I were shell shocked when we finally left the beach four hours later.

"She's lucky," Emmanuelle announced at one point in the proceedings. Just after she'd spent twenty minutes telling me about the pleasures of a female sixty-nine.

"Who's lucky?" I asked.

"Your girlfriend."

I was afraid to ask why. "You're definitely not going to meet her," I promised.

"Can she get all of it into her mouth? All of your beautiful cock?" she asked.

"EEE...MAN...UUUU...ELLLLLE!" my sister screeched in protest before I could say a word.

"Well it is beautiful... isn't it Meli?"

"He's my brother."

"I'm leaving," I announced.

"In fact," added Emmanuelle as she ignored us, "if I wasn't sleeping with your sister I just might..."

She didn't finish her sentence, instead she just grinned at my sister and winked at me. I had another hard on!

5- Miami Beach, Florida, Monday November 28th 2011

"You went where?"

"The beach... Haulover," I answered. I knew this was going to be a tricky conversation with dad. The girls had flown back to school late the night before. After our afternoon on the nude beach together on the Friday before I really hadn't gotten another chance to talk to them away from my parents or sister. This was my first chance to brief dad.

"The nude beach?" I nodded yes.

"You took your sister to a nude beach?" I nodded again.

"Did you take your clothes off in front of your sister?" Dad's voice was getting more incredulous and louder with each question.

"They took me! Christ pa, it was you who told me to get the lowdown on them."

"I didn't tell you to show your sister your bloody penis!" Dad wasn't happy.

"She's not a virgin dad... at least I found out that much," I said, trying to change the subject.

"Who isn't?"

"Emmanuelle," I answered.

"The lesbian? She's slept with a man? How do you know?" He couldn't hide his curiosity.

"I asked her."

"You were supposed to watch them Roberto... surreptitiously. You weren't supposed to--"

"She said I had a nice penis," I interrupted. Dad looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Your sister's lesbian French lover told you that your penis is nice?" dad finally spat out. "Are all French people perverts?" he wondered aloud.

"I think so, and I think she's done quite a bit of penile research," then added, "Melissa's not one either dad."

"NOT ONE WHAT?"

"A virgin," I said quietly, knowing Dad wasn't going to be happy.

"Somebody had sex with my Melissa? She told you? Who?" my father demanded. I think he was more pissed off at the idea that some man had deflowered his daughter than he was at her 'lesbianism'.

I did not tell my father everything I'd learned from the girls. Fuck, I wasn't stupid. Instead I gave him a hazy recap of the story Emmanuelle and Melissa had given me of how they'd drifted into a relationship. I tried to leave out all of the more lurid sexual details that Emmanuelle had been only to happy to share with me. For example I didn't bother dad with Manny's fifteen minute recital on the joy of shaving your partner's pussy.

"I'm going to talk to Dr. Singh Dad, I'm sure he'll help, he's bound to have some ideas," I ended.

"I'll come too," dad offered. But I was finally able to talk him out of it; instead I convinced him that it'd be better if I was able to give our neighbor the complete run down without him being there.

6 - Miami Beach, Florida, 5:00 p.m. Wednesday, December 1st 2010

"Robert!" I looked over my shoulder and saw Dr. Singh standing on his patio with a drink in hand. I'd spent the previous twenty minutes cleaning his pool, one of six pools that I cleaned and maintained as a part time after school job.

Dr. Singh, a native of Mumbai and a man who had come to America and Harvard for post graduate studies, was now a world renowned expert on lesbian psychology and had been lured to the University of Miami after he'd published a national bestseller on the subject six years earlier. He'd been our neighbor since he'd moved south.

"A drink?" he offered.

"You saw them?" I asked when we were seated and I had a beer in hand.

"How could I have missed them?" the good doctor asked.

"Can we cure her?"

"Ninety-three point six percent of lesbians can be cured," Dr. Singh announced confidently.

"They can?" What about the other six point four percent I wondered.

"Tell me what you learned," the learned doctor encouraged.

So I told him. In almost as graphic detail as I'd been told by Emmanuelle. He grilled me on their experiences with boys. Tut-tutted when I told him what Manny had said about American College boys cunnilingus abilities. Was interested to learn that they'd both slept with men.

"Frenchwomen are all bisexual my friend Robert," the doctor told me when I'd finished. "It's in their genetic makeup."

"It's not in Melissa's genetic makeup," I protested.

"Listen Robert you sister's case is a classic one. She's got her fiery Latin blood but it's tempered by her Anglo-Saxon side. She grew up in the tropics and then spends the years she's ripening into full womanhood in the snowy, cold north."

"Still--"

"I know what I'm talking about. The same thing happened to me. From Mumbai I was whisked off to Boston and Harvard when I was her age. They're passionless up there. So there's your poor, hot-blooded sister, yearning for a man who'll rouse her to the heights of erotic pleasure--"

I wasn't sure that the Doc's description of Melissa was one hundred percent accurate but I shut up anyway.

"—and thinking that the years of her college freedom would finally unleash a tsunami of orgasmic feelings that were just waiting to be unleashed by large, throbbing, thrusting penises--"

"Christ, you're as bad as Emmanuelle doc," I complained.

Doc Singh stopped talking for a second, then gave me a look and said, "You want to know the bottom line on this Robert?" Of course I did. "What Melissa needs is a man."

"I sorta had figured that out Doc."

"Is your sister bringing the French lesbian home for Christmas?" he asked.

"No."

"Good. So that'll give you three weeks to find her a man. To 'get her laid' as you Americans love to describe it. Properly laid. By someone who knows what he's doing. Who's got a nice, big cock."

The doc wasn't pulling any punches. "I don't think it'll be that easy sir."

"Would you prefer to celebrate Easter at a lesbian wedding on South Beach?" I shook my head, it was impossible to imagine such an event. Dad would shoot Emmanuelle before such a travesty befell the family. "Well then?"

"It's not much time to find a man for her. She'll be back home in just a couple of weeks."

"It's her final year up there isn't it?" I nodded. "That'll be the most dangerous time for all of you then. Two girls, in love, a huge decision facing them. Should they stay together? Get married? Go and live in Paris? You better do something at Christmas my boy," the doctor warned.

What could I say to that?

"You know Robert, in India it's up to the male members of the girl's family to act when a problem like this arises."

"Up to them to do what?"

"Cure her. Robert, if you can't find any other man to do the job then you or your dad will have to do step up to the plate and perform your duty. It's your responsibility."

"Sleep with my sister? Or have her sleep with dad? Are you nuts?" I asked incredulously.

"Why not? You love her don't you?"

"Well sure but--"

"Well then, you're halfway there."

"She's my sister."

"Were you sexually aroused when you saw her naked on the beach?" the doctor demanded.

"She's good looking," I answered warily.

"Did you get an erection?"

"There were other girls there, Emmanuelle ... tourists..."

"Have you dreamed about her since that day?" Doctor Singh pressed. He saw the answer in my eyes and pressed on. "She's a wonderful, beautiful girl. It's perfectly natural for a brother to have sexual thoughts about his sister. All boys do. Her future happiness is in your hands my boy."

"It's against the law," I protested.

"In India a man would act to save his sister no matter what the law said. His honor and his family's honor are at stake. Maybe Latino men aren't as concerned about such things," he answered.

He knew better than that! And so did I! "That's easy for you to say, you don't have to sleep with your sister."

"And how do you know I didn't have to?" the doctor snapped back. And in such a way and with such a tone in his voice that he momentarily stopped me.

"You didn't did you?" I finally asked.

"My father died when I was thirteen Robert. My mother and my three sisters were alone ... unprotected. Sometimes you have do things you didn't expect you were going to have to do Robert, sometimes you have to grow up faster than you thought you would," the doctor said, then stood up and walked towards his house. Just before entering through the patio doors he turned and said, "Come back tomorrow and we'll discuss your game plan." Then he disappeared inside. Our consultation was evidently over.

Doctor Singh had slept with his mother?

I dreamt of my sister that night. Naked. Knew I'd never find a boy for her in time. Knew that dad would never be able to do what was required. Could I, I asked myself even as my hand stroked my raging penis. Make her come? Put my seed inside her? Cure her of French bisexual lesbianism...

I'd have to I decided as the sperm spurted from the end of my cock. The only choice was me or a life of childless sorrow for Melissa.

I also realized as I watched my penis, still jerking out its thick cream, that I wanted to do it. That I'd wanted to it almost since I'd been capable of it, but that the desire had lain dormant below the surface for years. Melissa had always turned me on...

The next afternoon I told Paloma what the doctor had said. She surprised me when she reacted by saying, "Of course it has to be you. I've known that since I saw the two of them rubbing up against each other."

"You saw them rubbing--"

"Oh I saw a lot more than that," young, innocent Paloma answered.

"But it's wrong."

"Melissa is going to come back home to Miami," my sister answered, her words delivered with a fierce intensity in them that I'd never heard from her before. "She's going to come home, she's eventually going to get married ... and have children..."

"Still," I delayed.

"And it's up to you to make sure it happens." It was an order.

Paloma was onside. "You'll have to help," I told my little sister.

"Of course I will," she agreed.

7 - Miami Beach, Florida, Thursday December 16th 2010

Melissa flew home on the night of the fifteenth of December. I didn't get a chance to talk to her alone that first night. Father, on my suggestion, and with Paloma's agreement, had decided to bunk her in with her sister for the holidays. I'd wanted her close to Paloma -- I needed a spy. Our ruse was facilitated by dad having hired a contractor to redo Meli's old room and so my older sister had been faced with an empty, half painted room when she'd arrived.

"We wanted it perfect for when you arrive home in the spring," dad had explained.

"What if I don't come home in the Spring?" Melissa asked back.

"Then you'll have cost your poor father, a man who's slaved every day of his life since the raft carrying him from godless communism landed on American shores to provide for the children he loves so much, not only thousands and thousands of dollars but also his future happiness--" Paloma started.

She'd laid it on pretty thick but we'd wanted to get Melissa on the defensive right from the start. We only had three weeks.

That night, as Paloma and Melissa lay in their beds, my younger sister questioned her sister closely on her lesbian lifestyle.

And at eight a.m. the next morning I was shaken awake by my little sister. But it took me a second to realize who had roused me. The first thing I became aware of, a normal morning wake-up occurrence for me, was the tingling warmth radiating up through my body from my cock. As I stretched my body languorously I reached down to corral my hardness. My palm closed around my penis. I started to—

"Whaaaat are you doing?"

My eyes flew open. Paloma, in a pair of shorts and tank top, and sitting on the edge of my bed, was staring with mouth agape at my penis.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I certainly didn't come to watch you doing that."

"You're supposed to knock," I grumbled as I covered my penis with my hand.

"It's very big," Paloma answered. Her eyes were still locked on my groin.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"They've talked about getting married," my little sister started. Oh Fuck!

"They have?"

My sister spent the next twenty minutes briefing me on what Melissa had told her the night before. "She still wants to have children," Paloma finally said.

"Melissa?"

"Uh huh. And she wants to live in Miami. It's not even that she hates men. Or their penises," she added as I caught her checking me out again. And it hadn't been the first time in the last few minutes that Paloma had let her eyes drift downward. "She's confused. She loves Emmanuelle but ..."

I circled my penis with my palm and lifted up off my thigh and into air. "We'll just have to get her to love this," I said.

"Yes we will," Paloma agreed. Then she licked her lips.

****

"Beach?" I asked Melissa casually across the kitchen table two hours later. It was ten in the morning. Everyone else was out doing errands. It was time to start to put my plan into place. She nodded her agreement. She'd been home for fourteen hours.

"Can we take your bike?" she asked hopefully. My sister loved my motorcycle.

"Sure," I agreed.

"Can I drive?"

"No way."

"Roberto! Pleeeaaase?"

"I'll let you on the way home. If you've been good," I teased. Meli stuck out her tongue.

Ten minutes later she was on the back of my bike with her arms wrapped around my stomach. The breasts my eyes had feasted on at Thanksgiving were pushing against my back.

"This okay?" I asked over my shoulder as I turned my bike north.

"Haulover? Just us?" she asked while placing her lips against my ear, trying to be heard over the roar of the motorcycle.

"Yes," I yelled into the wind.

"We shouldn't, let's go to South Beach," she yelled back as she tightened her arms around my stomach. Her erect nipples were unmistakable as they poked through the t-shirt I was wearing. I revved the bike and kept driving north.

"What if someone recognizes us?" sis asked when we finally pulled into the parking lot.

"No one will be looking at your face," I promised my sister as I dismounted.

It was different that second time. We'd both known it as we stood self consciously over our towels. Without asking each other where we wanted to set up our things we'd both wandered to the most deserted section of the beach, a spot with no one within twenty-five yards of us.

We shyly removed our clothes, even turning our backs on each other as we stripped.

"This is weird," Meli said when she'd finally organized herself and was sitting naked on her towel. "A brother and a sister. We shouldn't have come. We're not French."

"I liked it last time. And besides, no one knows you're my sister," I said as I pushed my shorts down my legs. "People will think we're lovers."

"That's so gross. And you liked what?" Melissa's eyes were locked on my groin as she spoke.

"People watching me. Seeing you. You looking at my cock." I said nonchalantly as I stood in front of her.

"I didn't look at your cock," she protested.

"Liar." Then I noticed the short black curls that had sprouted over her mound since I'd seen her at Thanksgiving, "You're letting it grow back?"

"What?"

"Your hair," I said as my eyes roamed over her mound. A mound now sporting a frizzy coat of short, dark pubic hair.

"I just haven't shaved for a while," she said nonchalantly as she ran her fingers through her curls.

"I prefer it like that."

"You do? You shouldn't be looking anyway," she said as she sat and then lay back. Her languid posture and her spread knees belied her words. Her pose invited my eyes towards the pink slit of her pussy. Girls just love being looked at.

"Turn over then, I'll do your back," I said as I picked up the tube of lotion. My penis felt heavy hanging between my legs.

"You liked Manny didn't you? When we were here the last time," she added needlessly as my lotion filled hands moved over her upper back.

"She was okay... for a blond anyway." My hands moved caressingly over the firm roundness of her bum. "But I prefer Latinas."

"Hah! I was afraid you were going to try to steal her from me."

"Were you?" I asked as I gave her a quick slap on her rear.

"Stop that," she said with a giggle. Her body was hot under my hands. I could feel the tremors of her excitement. I lightly ran my fingers up and down her anal crack.

"It's your turn, do me now," I said after giving her ass another little slap. I lay down on my back. My sister slowly squeezed the tube of sun block and then both of us watched as a fat drop of cream fell onto my stomach and then pooled over my belly button. Melissa's hands started to spread the lotion over my chest.

"I bet you'd prefer that it was Emmanuelle doing this don't you?" she asked as her fingers moved over my nipples.

"No way," I denied.

"I'll bet you do."

"My cock too," I instructed when my sister made to move away.

"You're my brother," she answered even as she lifted my half hard penis from my thigh. "I'll need more cream," she added as she grabbed the lotion in her other hand and then squeezed a big gob of the white sauce over the head of my cock. "Don't you dare get an erection," sis warned as her fingers started to spread the cream.

Yeah sure, I thought. "My balls too."

"It certainly showed," sis said as her fingers found my balls.

"What did," I groaned out as I lengthened under her touch.

"Manny certainly knew you found her sexy, you had an erection almost the whole time we were here last time... Hey, I told you not to get one now. That's disgusting, I'm your sister." But she didn't seem in any rush to finish lathering up my private parts.

"How do you know it was because of her last time?"

"It was obvious."

"You're better looking."

"No I not, she's beautiful."

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