Irrational Exuberance

"Did it mean anything to you," she said into my shoulder.

I didn't know what she was getting at. "What?"

She pushed off me and looked into my eyes through glasses that were slightly askew on her nose, "You know."

Now, I thought I did, "That took courage, Alice, real courage," it still blew me away every time I thought about it, which was a lot.

She kissed me on the lips, lightly, "No it didn't, I've wanted to do that for years."

"Have sex with me?" I didn't think I had it right.

"I know they call it incest, I know it's supposed to be wrong but I got over that a long time ago. It isn't wrong to me." She gave me another sisterly kiss, "You're the only one I've ever wanted."

I couldn't think, couldn't process her words but she was going to force me to.

She turned on me again, putting her arms around my chest again. "Look, I want you and need you and you need me. You said so, and you do, I know it." She hesitated for a moment, "I don't want you to be my brother any more, Jim, I don't want to be your sister. I don't want to remember our family either, and how our parents died. I want you to be you, not my brother, OK?" I was working hard to understand all this. "And I want you to call me Allie from now on, will you? Alice is dead as far as I'm concerned, as dead as the family."

I wanted to run, I needed space, I needed to think about all of this. I knew I needed her, I had thought about that all week, convinced myself of that, I knew it was true. But that was as a sister, someone with a shared past, as if that would provide a more solid platform for my future. But my sister as a lover? "You can't just turn something like that on, can you?"

She nestled into me and laughed, "Interesting choice of words," she said, and she kissed me, not sisterly this time, affectionately, provocatively, then she laughed again, "Maybe you can't just turn it on, but I want to turn you on, Jim, I can't tell you how much I want to be able to do that — I want you to want to make love to me."

This whole thing was surreal: I felt dizzy, confused. "Doesn't the taboo bother you?" It sure as fuck bothered me.

"Ya, right," she said, dismissively, "if I hadn't done what I did with Freddie would we be here right now, actually discussing our relationship?" She didn't wait for my response, "No, we wouldn't." She hesitated and when she spoke again she put the same question a different way, "Do you think we could have a real relationship if we didn't do that?"

I had been thinking about that, too, not directly, but I'd been thinking that if I continued to see my sister would/could/should sex be a part of it. No, it shouldn't and I couldn't see why I was so much more troubled by this than she was, I mean, it isn't done, is it?

She looked up at me, "Are you going to take me to bed?" She kissed me lightly again.

All I could think to say was, and I know it was cowardly, "Do you want me to?"

She kissed me a little more affectionately this time, "Of course I want you to. Do you think I meant what I did that night as a one-time thing. I want a real relationship with you, Jim and I want it to include that."

Like I said, I've been pretty much emotionally dead all my life. To me, chasing pussy is an unbelievable high but actually getting it isn't, that always leaves me emotionally fucked, I mean what are you suppose to do with them afterwards — I've never figured that out. And what do you do if it's your sister? You can't just fuck and run. So my emotions have been in a deep turmoil the past week: when she got between my legs that night she so fucked me up that I haven't been able to look at anything the same way any more, her particularly.

She put her arms around my neck and when she squeezed me, I could feel her lithe body slide upward on mine until she was looking down on me, her eyes just a few inches from mine. "Look, I love you, you're the only one I've ever loved and you may just be the only one I ever will love." She kissed me, but in a sisterly way. "You're never going to care about me like I care about you, I know that, but do you think you could care enough about me to take an interest in me, to talk to me, to wonder what I think, to let me lie against you once in while?"

You've got to understand, this was really difficult for me, I knew diddly about emotional connections, diddly about relationships. Could I care about my sister? Really care? No, I couldn't, but that was before all of this, that was before she told me, convinced me, she loved me — that was so foreign to me, it shocked me, got me thinking and, well, I started to think of her in a different way, in a possessive way and she didn't seem to be the same person any more. And, I'm not proud of it, but the sight of her that night, framed in the doorway, totally nude with that gorgeous, rail thin body — she was right, that had been the tipping point, it had shocked me into thinking of her as a person, a woman, a desirable woman, something I should have understood a long time ago; when I say 'desirable' I don't just mean sexually desirable, honest, I mean interesting, complex, vital and a thousand other things that make us all so interesting, once we take the time to notice.

As if in answer to her questions I tightened my arms around her and I held her close to me, reassuringly, pressing her into me and I rubbed her back, nervously: what could I say? Could I care about her? I didn't honestly know, but I knew for sure that I wanted to care about her, and that's what I told her.

She didn't say anything, not with her voice but she pressed herself hard into me, I could feel her fantastic mound just a few layers of clothe from my prick and with the thought of that unbelievable vulva my hands went under her sweat shirt and when I massaged the tight hot muscles of her back I felt a charge of guilt race through me. That was it! It was the one thing that had been bothering me about all of this and I hadn't figured it out, not until this very second: she was giving me sex — as a gift, and in return she wanted me to be nice to her! God, it just sucked the strength right out of me; I felt like the worst kind of slime-bag; I struggled to get away.

But she wouldn't let me. She was squeezing me with her arms and legs, holding me down; fear contorted her face as she looked down on me. "What's the matter?"

So I told her, or, at least, I tried to but she stopped me before I got going. "I masturbate, quite a lot. I always think of you when I do and only you, always. Only you. I've had sex a couple of times, well, sort of, just to see what it was like, but I've never wanted to have sex with anyone, just with you. I dream about it all the time, and not just when I masturbate."

She shifted on me and put her head on my chest. "Sometimes I'll think of you all day, as if you were watching me. I'd do something, anything, and when I did it, I'd kind of exaggerate what I was doing to make it more dramatic for you. It was fun and it kept you close to me." She laughed, "And you were close to me in another way, too. When I started working and making money I started buying really sexy underwear, it was my one extravagance, and on days when I knew I wasn't going to be super busy, and I'd have time to imagine you were with me, I'd put them on in the morning and the underwear and my thoughts made me unbelievably hot all day. Sometimes I'd come home and go at myself for hours, always imagining you were with me, watching me." She looked up at me and smiled but without embarrassment. "Funny, ah?"

Then she put her head back down on my chest, "And I dream of being like we are right now, with me lying on you; you holding me, your arms around me and I can feel you against me." She looked up again, "I don't want to give you sex, Jim, I want to have sex with you, I want to be as close to you as I can, I want you in me, I dream about it all the time. This has nothing to do with a gift; it's about being together."

I don't know why I reacted like I did. Sex to me had always been fucking, the more frantic and wet the better. But this was different and it wasn't just because I was with my sister, either, I was feeling different, my lust was coming from an entirely different place – I knew I cared about this woman and that realization was really starting to turn me on; that I COULD care, that I COULD connect emotionally — not just physically; that the body in my hands had a soul, too, and a beauty that was evident to all my sense, not just my eyes.

I went back under her shirt and when I felt her hot flesh I probably moaned, I know she did and she was writhing in my hands now, more turned on then any woman I'd ever been with.

It would have been easy to speed past the point of irrational exuberance, to let my body trump my brain, to just let myself go but not this time, this time I was determined that my brain would beat off my body: I wanted to show Alice that I cared, all of me cared, not just my prick — but mostly, I wanted to prove that to myself, too, that I could care.

I took my hands from her back and placed them flat against the sides of her face and when I pulled her lips into mine I could never have imagined what this would mean to her. She just went nuts, her hands clamped roughly on the back of my head; she forced her mouth into mine and seemed to suck my tongue right out of me as she beat her pussy against my thigh. But not for long. Suddenly she pulled back, her mouth glistening with spit, her eyes wide with lust, "I'm losing it, Jim."

I bucked her sideways on the couch and slide my hand inside her sweat pants, inside her panties. She was soaking, unbelievably soaking and when I slid a finger into her she squeezed at my neck, went back to my mouth and as she sucked on me and beat herself against my finger I remembered the sounds she had made that night , the passion that boiled up from deep inside her and when I felt her flood onto my fingers I felt my heart rush to her in a surge of love. And she felt it too, I swear she did because even before she stopped writhing on my finger, she pulled back and when she looked at me a look of surprise quickly turned to joy and her cry was not from her orgasm but from delight and she was back on my mouth again, frantically sucking on my tongue and she was moaning so hard I could feel it.

And I could feel the last shudder in her pussy, too, it felt warm and wet and intimate and when I felt her finally relax I slowly slipped my finger from her but she quickly gripped my wrist and held me in her, then her hand went over mine and she caressed my hand as I caressed her pussy.

I have lost myself in sexual abandonment many times, but this wasn't about to be one of them; my mind was racing too fast for that; I was trying to make sense of this. It's one thing to begin to care about your sister as an interesting, loving person; it's quite another to care about your sister as a sexual mate. That first time, a couple of weeks ago, was an accident, an aberration; the next time, if there was going to be one, would mean a commitment.

Part of the fascination of sex is how you deal with the moment of irrational exuberance, the moment of body over mind, I mean some of the time you're not really into it, maybe she has bad breath, a lousy body, hair on her nipples, a lousy personality, whatever, you're sort of slowly going at it, hesitantly, even reluctantly, trying to make up your mind, trying to prepare your body — you're rational, your mind is working, you're making conscious decisions, you can still back away, and then it gets you, the irrational exuberance, and you suspend all rational thought and you just let your body do whatever the fuck it wants to.

I was there now, lying against my sister, with my lips on her forehead, my finger in her pussy — I was at the moment of irrational exuberance, the tipping point. But I couldn't just say 'fuck it' and get at it, like I've done every other time — just give in to the body and deal with the consequences later. This was my sister for Chrissake. I had to intellectually decide what I was going to do, with full consideration of all foreseeable consequences.

She must have sensed I was wrestling with my conscience for her words succinctly summarized everything, "We need each other, Jim, can't you see that?"

I could, I first understood that about a week ago when I began to realize that I cared about her, that I didn't want to hurt her any more, that I wanted to protect her, a woman I had never given a shit about. And for the past week I've loved how I've felt, loved thinking about her, loved thinking about someone other than myself. That's why I went up to her a few minutes ago when she was at the sink; that's why I held her. I wanted to tell her, however awkwardly, that I needed her. And that's what I wanted to say now, knowing that if I did I would pass the point-of-no-return.

I took my finger from her pussy and brought it to her hair, which I stroked for a few moments before saying, "I want this, Alice."

I hadn't realized how keyed up she was; even relaxed, she had been coiled like a spring because with my words I could feel her sag against me as if all her tension had just drained away. "I want this, too," she said, "I want this more than you could possibly imagine."

And it was done, we had made a contract — the future was merely detail.

I was surprised how business-like she was, how efficient. She got off the couch and helped me up. When she led me to the bedroom it all seemed so pragmatic that for an instant I felt like I was walking to a sacrificial ceremony, I mean something profound was going to happen to me and it seemed like it had been planned, even choreographed.

But I liked it, I liked that we were still in the rational state, that we were consciously going to make love to each other — that we weren't just giving in to the passion boiling beneath the surface. And I liked it that when we got to the bed she faced me, kissed me lightly and began to undress me, slapping away my hand when I tried to take off her shirt. She was making a production of it, as if she was unwrapping a present and she was doing it in that way of hers when she starts and stops, as if all her actions are measured in units of energy. But I liked it — because she was so happy and not just sexually happy either, she looked like she was opening a gift knowing that what's inside was something she had always wanted, and she was in no hurry to see it.

When she finished undressing me she sat on the bed and brought me into her, pushing her face into my belly, rubbing the small of my back with one hand and my ass with the other. She just stayed like that for maybe a minute while I caressed her hair. Then she leaned back and looked up at me. "I want this to be a new beginning for us, Jim — girl and boy, not brother and sister."

When she looked up at me there was fear in her eyes, as if I might object, but I didn't, I pulled her gently to her feet, brought her into my arms and kissed her, like I meant it but when she kissed me back, excited that I had agreed, well, I was back to the tipping point again but now there was no reason to hold back — I pulled off her shirt, unclasped her bra, pushed her pants and panties down and my idea was to push her onto the bed and get at it. But she had other ideas.

She pushed away from me and when she sat on the bed again, she brought me in, as she did before, pressing her facing into my belly for a minute then she leaned back and took my erect penis in her fingers and studied it, playfully moving it from side to side like a windshild wiper. She looked up at me and smiled, "It's beautiful, Jim," then she kissed my helmet a few times then she dragged her tongue along its length before taking me in her mouth and sucking, at first just the head but then she slide along me until I bumped into the back of her throat, then she backed off and sucked a few times, experimenting, applying different pressures and speeds.

That did it! I moved to pull away but she wouldn't let me, her hands gripped my cheeks and as I tried to escape she pulled me closer as she clamped tighter on my prick. But I had to have her pussy. When I pushed her onto the bed she laughed and scrambled into the centre then I almost dove at her sex but when I landed with my lips just inches from a pussy I'd had dreams about, she spoke, "Oh, no you don't," she was pulling me away from that fantastic mound. "I've waited a long time for you, you can have all the time you want with that later."

She pulled me onto my back and had her arms around me, squeezing me, laughing, getting a leg under me so she could crush her sex against mine; it was at once erotic and playful.

"Do you know what I've dreamed of … for our first time together … that last time doesn't count. I dreamed that when we did this for the first time it would be fun, liberating, that I looked at you, you looked at me, we poked and prodded, I told you want I thought, you told me what you thought, you know, about our bodies, that it was a kind of discovery, a really exciting discovery. I want to do that, I want to inspect you, have fun with it, and I want you to inspect me."

The first thing I thought of was inspecting that fantastic twat of hers — but that was a mistake; I was already on fire, ready to fire. I pushed her off me and put her hand on my prick, "I can't wait, Allie."

She turned around in a flash and she kissed my prick as she slowly pumped it but not fast enough. Furiously, I thrust at her fingers and I heard her laugh when it started to come and then I felt her lips on me, sucking as I spasmed into her mouth and I felt her fingers on my balls, softly massaging and then I pulled her into me, pushing my face into her flat, taunt stomach, squeezing her to me until the waves of ecstasy calmed to a ripple, then became still.

Sexually spent, I expected to be hit with a pang of guilt— that's what always happens to me after sex; release meant retreat. But not this time. This time it was more like a pang of joy. My face remained pressed against her stomach, her lips remained on my now-flaccid penis.

"Jim?"

I pulled my face just off her skin, "Ya?"

"That was the most exciting moment of my life." She waited a moment before adding, "I can't possibly love you more."

I was going to say something, but I fought it off and pushed my face back into her stomach. I wanted to think … but not right now. Right now, I wanted to enjoy.

She pulled away and was leaning over me, kissing my stomach. I pulled at her leg; I wanted my face in her pussy, but she pushed my hand away. "Relax," she said, "When I've dreamed of doing this you don't move. You let me; you want me to; you surrender to me; you let me kiss and suck your entire body." She turned, put a pillow under my head, kissed my lips, then returned to my stomach and for the next hour she lived out her dream on every inch of me, turning me over at the 30 minute mark and then back again in 59 minutes so she could suck me off again, this time to feel me splash on her breasts. And then she thanked me, got up and ran me a bath.

We went out to dinner that night and as she sat across from me, talking the whole time, talking about, well, I don't remember, I was too busy with my thoughts. She was beautiful, not in comparison to beautiful people, but for her she was stunning beautiful. Gone was the severe look of the cantankerous librarian. There was laughter in her eyes, cheerfulness in her voice and hope in the aura she cast and in the spell that was enveloping me.

I guess she noticed that I was a bit pre-possessed because after a half hour into dinner she asked me what I was thinking.

"I'm giving you a past."

"A past? Why?"

"Allie."

"Yes?"

"That's why."

"I don't understand."

"Your name is Allie, not Alice, I'm wondering who you are and why I'm feeling this much love."