tagIncest/TabooPooling Around

Pooling Around

byCal Y. Pygia©

My sister Ellen looks sexy in jeans (or anything else--or nothing at all) because she has good genes. At sixteen, she looked twelve. Now that she's just turned eighteen, she looks fourteen. Her face has a clean, well-scrubbed, girl-next-door, angelic wholesomeness, but her innocent look doesn't hide the natural beauty of her features. A blonde, Ellen has eyes that shine as brightly as a cloudless sky at noon, and her high cheeks are soft and round as sun-ripened apples. The bridge of her nose is slender, the tip tiny, and her pretty lips, pursed in a perpetual pout, are full, soft, and sensuous. Her pointed chin gives her face a Valentine's heart shape that is beyond cute. Her neck is long and slender and graceful.

Just to look at her makes me want to fuck her, even if she is my sister--and she doesn't even have to be naked. Most of the time, she is, though. Since she was a toddler, she's preferred to wear nothing but her birthday suit. At first, Mom and Dad tried to dissuade her. They forbade it. When she persisted in running around the house naked, they threatened, cajoled, and punished her. Fortunately, she was every bit as determined as they were, and, ultimately, she wore down their resolve, and my parents relented, after extracting from her the promise that she'd stop "parading herself" in front of me. (It was all right, they seemed to think, for them to see her without clothes on, but, somehow, it was wrong for me, her brother, to see her in the altogether.)

Ellen humored them. She promised not to "scandalize" her brother by appearing before me in the nude. Of course, she had no intention of keeping her word, and she went on, as blithely as ever, nakedly going about her business. Mom and Dad eventually stopped demanding that she honor her agreement with them to forego her nudity in my presence, accepting the fact that, like it or not, they had a nudist in the family. Me, I'd liked it from the very start.

As I watched Ellen grow up, I watched her grow out, too. Her breasts--what would become her breasts--budded. At first, she had nothing more than twin beestings. Then, her nipples enlarged, spreading and puffing. They darkened slightly, becoming not red but pinker, like the petals of a blossoming rose. Gradually, the beestings swelled further, taking on round shapes. Had she not been, even at such a tender age, a confirmed nudist, she'd have had to be fitted, soon, for her first bra. Eventually, she might have to wear one to school or elsewhere in public, but she'd put off acquiring one, even for public wear, as long as she could. Her little boobs gained elevation and circumference, but they remained high, firm, and tight. They were buoyant and bouncy, but--judging by sight, and not (yet) by touch--they were also smooth. Her hips remained narrow, and there was no growth, as yet, of hair upon her pubes, the cleft of her sex remaining a visible dimple at the center of her crotch that drew my eye as often as her budding breasts.

Although her boobs and pussy were her most obviously feminine parts, I also paid close and constant attention to the development of her buttocks, as you might imagine, and they no more disappointed me in their progress than did my sister's other increasingly womanly charms. I watched their progress as Ellen turned thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen. Each year, the perfect twin globes became fuller, sleeker, and more magnificent until they surpassed the bottoms of any actress, model, or other celebrity.

Her legs are long, slender, and shapely, the thighs smooth, the knees dimpled, and the calves firm and tight. Her feet are dainty, and her hands are small and soft. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have been able to study my sister's transformation from innocent, cute-but-gangly preteen to gorgeous young woman. How many guys could boast the same privilege?

This morning, right after dawn, my parents went out of town for the weekend. They'd never done so before, afraid, most likely, that Ellen's nudity would lead to something between us that shouldn't happen between siblings. They had little choice, though: Mom had won a weekend's free trip to San Diego, and it was a lose-it-or-lose it proposition for this weekend only.

Upon leaving, Mom gave me a peck on the cheek. "Behave yourself," she admonished me. Looking past me, at my sister, who, as usual, stood naked, Mom said, "And, for God's sake, Ellen, put some clothes on for once!"

"Okay," Ellen said, but, of course, she didn't.

Clutching their bags, Dad said to Mom, "Come on, Harriet. We have to get to the airport."

"You'd better arrive early," Ellen quipped. "They might strip search you."

Mom rolled her eyes. "You're impossible!" she said. Looking at me, the responsible one, Mom said again, "Behave yourself, Drake. I mean it."

"I will," I promised, but, of course, I didn't.

In a moment, Mom and Dad were gone, rushing off to the airport, and Ellen and I had the house to ourselves, but it wasn't the house my nudist sister wanted to herself; it was the backyard swimming pool--and she didn't want that to herself, either.

"Come on," she invited me to join her. "Let's pool around."

That's what Ellen had always said instead of "take a dip" or "go for a swim."

"Okay," I agreed. "Let's."

When Mom and Dad had had the backyard landscaped, they'd done so with privacy in mind. Tall cedars, stately poplars, and a tall fence festooned with bougainvillea shielded the pool, making it invisible to prying eyes. "I think, before we came along, they used to skinny dip," Ellen had told me once. At the time, I'd attributed her suspicion to her own fondness for swimming naked. As a nudist, she'd naturally supposed that everyone else also preferred to swim nude rather than in a suit. Now, I wasn't so sure. Maybe she'd been right. Certainly, the landscaping suggested that Mom and Dad wanted to make sure whatever they did in their backyard stayed private.

Now, as I was waded around the pool, watching her, Ellen lay naked, on her tummy, on an inflated raft floating upon the surface of our backyard swimming pool, the mounds of her tan, wet buttocks glistening in the sun.

She asked me to do a favor for her: "Drake, would you mind rubbing some lotion on me? I don't want to burn."

I smiled. "You talked me into it, sis."

I waded through the chest-high water, climbed the stepladder mounted to the side of the pool, and walked, dripping water, to the chaise lounge, where Ellen had set the suntan lotion, along with other the necessities of the day--a CD player, CD's, headphones, a comb, a brush, a hat with a visor, a couple of beach towels, and a tawdry romance novel--and was back in the pool, wading toward the twin moons dipping and swaying atop the raft, suntan lotion bottle in hand.

Squeezing a dollop onto one palm, I set the bottle on the raft, alongside Ellen's right hip, and, after rubbing my hands together, massaged the lotion into her shoulders and back, working down to the sweeping curves of her derriere. "There you go, sis," I said, repressing the urge to sigh.

"What about my butt?" Ellen asked.

I swallowed. "Your what?"

"And my legs. Don't forget them."

"But, Ellen--"

Her legs flexing and her ass cheeks tightening, she rose onto her elbows, turning to look at me over her bare shoulder, squinting. She looked beautiful, as always, but a little perturbed as well. "I don't want to burn," she declared.

"And I don't want you to burn, either, sis, but--"

"But what, Drake?"

"It's your butt we're talking about."

"It's muscle and fat, flesh and blood," she said.

"And bone," I ventured, hoping a joke might ease my stress. "Don't forget the bone."

"I don't have a bony ass," she said, giving me an arch look. "If anyone has a bone around here, it's you, not me."

I blushed, because I had a "bone," all right--my cock, thick and hard, jutted from my groin, making the front of my trunks into a tent.

Without another word, I squeezed another glob of lotion onto my palm, rubbed my hands together, as before, and spread the white cream over my sister's gorgeous backside, feeling the firm, sleek mounds of her ass under my rotating palms and fanned-out fingers. The lotion thinned, glistening, and looked, I thought, much like semen.

My cock ratcheted up another inch, stiffening and swelling even more inside my swimsuit. It may not have been right, but I couldn't help how I felt. I wanted to stuff my rigid cock between her lotion-smeared buttocks and through the tight opening of her anus, deep into her rectum. I wanted to fuck my sister hard and fast until I lost all control and spurted my thick, warm, white, viscid semen over the perfect globes of her ass.

Instead, I worked my hands down the undersides of those splendid slopes and began to work the lotion into the backs of her sleek, firm thighs. I could see the crescent of her cunt, which she kept shaved, between her legs, and I watched the curved slit of her sex as I kneaded and rubbed the creamy lotion into her upper legs, my balls feeling as if they'd explode at any moment and my rock-hard cock pressing insistently against the liner of my trunks, demanding access to the charms my always-naked sister so openly and shamelessly displayed.

The water splashed, the raft dipped and swayed, and the sun baked our flesh as I continued to massage the lotion into my sister's wet, glistening flesh. Her pink-and-gold complexion was slowly becoming bronze, and beads of water sparkled and glinted upon the tan flesh like diamonds against sand. My sister always looked beautiful and sexy, but, at this moment, she was more desirable to me than any woman had ever been, and I wanted--I needed--to be inside her--in her mouth, her ass, her cunt--more than I needed to breathe. Unfortunately, short of rape, there was no way to satisfy these urges. Ellen had invited me to spread suntan lotion on her, not to fuck her.

I watched the lotion swirl beneath the pressure of my rotating palms and massaging fingers. It streaked and whirled across her thighs and calves, frothing slightly until her skin absorbed the creamy fluid. The bright sunlight gleamed as it danced upon the water and upon her bronzed, oiled flesh. Risking a frown or a scolding rebuke, I gave her buttocks a playful swat and said, "You're basted."

She stretched, her shoulders shrugging as she raised her arms above her head. Replacing the backs of her hands beneath her cheek, to form a makeshift pillow, she yawned before pointing out, "You missed a spot."

"Your feet?"

"My perineum."

"Your perineum?" I repeated, my voice shaky. She was as much as asking me to rub the lotion into her pussy--or, at least, her labia, because there was no way I could rub the lotion between her legs without touching her cunt lips.

"Of course," she insisted. "I especially don't want to burn there."

I took a gulp, to steady my nerves, I guess, and said, my voice hoarse, "Okay."

I spurted some more lotion into a waiting palm. This time, the creamy fluid not only looked like semen, but it also felt like it. It was just my imagination, I told myself, as I rubbed my hands together.

Ready, I hesitated.

"Well?" Ellen called, a note of impatience in her voice.

Here goes, then, I thought, and reached between my sister's legs.

At first, I thought I'd creamed myself, but, no, it was only pre-cum, the Cowper's fluid that helped to lubricate one's cock. I was still hard--almost painfully so.

Ellen's flesh was rose-petal soft. It was moist, too, as if with dew. Water from the pool, I realized, must have splashed between her thighs, wetting her perineum. Light sparkled upon the drops. Lightly, I rubbed the lotion up and down, upon the swell of flesh at either side of my sister's oh-so-pink labia. I heard a sharp intake of breath. It was I, remembering to breathe.

I'd done it! I thought. I'd touched my sister there, between her legs, in that place which both God and man forbid a sister's brother from ever touching.

I expected the sky to darken with storm clouds. I expected God to thunder his outrage. I expected him to discharge his wrath in a bolt of lightning that would incinerate me. The day remained bright, the sky cloudless, and birds sang while gentle wavelets lolled and splashed against my flesh and the flesh of my naked sister, between whose legs I'd just rubbed lotion that looked, more and more, like the fluid of my loins.

"My lips," my sister said. "You forgot my lips."

Her comment made no sense. "You're lying on your stomach," I reminded her.

"Not those lips," she said.

My God! She couldn't be serious, I thought. But I knew Ellen, and I knew she was serious. Nevertheless, I intended to make absolutely sure there was no misunderstanding. If I was going to do what she was asking me to do, I wanted it to be clear to both of us as to exactly what she intended. "Do you mean your labia?" I asked.

"Duh. What other lips, besides those on her face, does a girl have?"

Dry mouthed, I swallowed. "Okay. I just wanted to be sure."

When, even reassured that I'd understood her intention correctly, I hesitated, she said, "Would you rather I do it?"

My answer was to apply the lotion. My thumbs spread the white cream along the slit of her sex, over the pink lips of her cunt, and they were wet, too, I realized, like the flesh of her perineum--but they were wet not with water splashed from the pool but, rather, with her own internal juices. Her cunt was moist with lubricant that she'd supplied herself, from within. She, in her own way, was as aroused as I was in mine.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked. The words were out of my mouth before I'd known I would say them.

She rose onto her elbows, favoring me with a backward glance through eyes squinted against the glare of the sun. "Such as?"

"Anything."

She smiled, and her angel's face was radiant. "How about rubbing some more lotion onto me?"

I frowned. "More lotion?" That wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind.

Her smile broadened, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. "A different kind of lotion," she said.

I returned her smile with a grin of my own. "If you mean what I think you mean, I have plenty--all you could want."

"I doubt you have that much," she answered.

I looked her body up and down. "Where do you want it?"

"All over," she said. "Everywhere."

I guess it was bound to happen. Sooner or later, we were all but destined to become lovers. How could we not become intimate, with my sister running around naked in front of me all the time, since she'd first been able to toddle around by herself? As I'd watched her growing up, blossoming and maturing, I'd entertained thoughts, secretly, about her. I'd masturbated many times--countless times--with images of her, naked, in mind, longing to touch and to hold, to kiss and caress, the forbidden fruit--or the forbidden fruits--of her body--her full lips; the small, round moons of her luscious breasts; her perfect, pink pussy; her glorious, full, firm, sleek ass; her long, tapering legs. I'd craved the chance to transform mere adjectives into sensations, desire into knowledge, fantasy into experience.

Ellen had, indeed, become a woman; her body left no doubt about that--but, at the same time, she'd retained the innocent look of the teenager. Her hair was as soft and lustrous as a girl half her tender age, highlighted by sun and shadow rather than chemicals. Her skin was as flawless and smooth as a fourteen-year-old girl's, and her gaze, like her facial features, held the clear and guileless look of a childlike purity seen less and less often in young women past puberty. Her breasts were high, firm, and tight, yet buoyant, and the nipples were pink and puffy like gumdrops. Her tummy was concave, its navel a dimple. Ellen kept her pubes shaved to reveal the little cleft at the center of her groin. Her legs were lean, but shapely, like those of a girl who was four, or even six, years her junior. Her little bottom was full, but firm and tight.

Looking at my sister made me want to hug and kiss her, just as it made me want to spank and fuck her. It was odd how Ellen's nubile nudity brought out such opposite and contradictory impulses, but it was also a fact. I wanted to make love to her, but I also wanted to hurt her. Maybe violence was always part of sex, an undercurrent to lovemaking.

Ellen slipped off the raft and waded to the aluminum stepladder attached to the side of the pool. I watched her sleek, tight ass sash shay back and forth as, hips swiveling and leg muscles flexing, she climbed the rungs and stepped onto the deck, her nude body gleaming with coursing, dripping water. She crossed the deck, slid open one of the French doors that led into the living room, and, still dripping water, crossed the carpet to the hall that led to my parents' bedroom. I followed her lead, and, in but a few moments, I stood alongside her.

"Wow!" she said, her eyes widening at the sight of my erection, jutting against the fabric of my swimsuit. "You really are anxious do so something for me, aren't you?"

"I am," I admitted. I took my sister in my arms, drawing her to me. Her perfect breasts flattened between us, and my hands, cupping her buttocks, made deep, white indentations in her tanned flesh. My mouth found hers, our lips met, and we exchanged a kiss. Ellen felt wonderful in my arms; she felt wonderful in my hands, too. Sister or not, I wanted to fuck her more than I'd ever wanted to do anything else in my life.

I slipped my tongue into her mouth, where all was wet and warm, and my oral member probed and swirled about hers. Our kiss, deep and wet, enflamed the lust within me even more, and I gripped her ass cheeks tightly.

She stepped back, frowning. "Ouch! I want you to make love to me, Drake, not manhandle me!"

"Sorry, sis. I guess I got a little carried away. You're so beautiful."

"And I'd like to stay that way, so handle the package with care."

"I will," I promised, rubbing her gently where I'd gripped her so fiercely a moment before.

I have to admit that I was surprised at my sister's audacity in having chosen my parents' bedroom as the site at which she wanted to lose her virginity--her sibling virginity, that is. I had no illusions that Ellen was, otherwise, sexually experienced.

My Mom had spent an exorbitant amount of money on the king-size four-poster with intricate, hand-carved posts, headboard, and footboard. The scenes depicted in these carvings had surprised me (but not Ellen). They showed nymphs fleeing from satyrs, the latter of whom had astonishingly long, thick erections jutting upward from their furry groins. Their chests and abdominal muscles were evident, as were the sinews of their thighs and buttocks. The nymphs were naked and nubile, with small, but womanly, breasts, boyish hips, round buttocks, and downy pubes through which the dimples of their sex were clearly visible. Behind them, great trees spread a canopy of foliage.

"I still can't believe Mom would buy such a thing," I told Ellen, surveying these wild, sylvan scenes of imminent ecstasy.

"As hard as it may be for you to believe," my sister replied, "Mom's a woman, Drake."

I shook my head. "I know, but I still can't believe she'd buy something like this--or that Dad would have agreed to keep it."

"I have some more news for you, brother of mine: Dad's a man. Men and women have sex; that's how they become parents."

"Speaking of becoming parents," I said, "there's no chance that you--that we--"

"Who said I was going to fuck you?"

"You did."

"I didn't."

"You implied it."

"In your dreams."

"Then what are we doing here, in Mom and Dad's bedroom, with you naked?"

"I'm always naked, Drake, in case you haven't noticed."

I grinned. "I've noticed, all right. I just never took you for a tease."

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byCal Y. Pygia© 0 comments/ 180458 views/ 19 favorites

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