Pure, Respectful, & Passionate

I pondered her use of the word "edgy". It conveyed more meanings than simply not being able to sleep early. What was it that was making her feel edgy, that's what I wanted to know?

I threw my two bits worth at her: "Yeah. Me too. I am having trouble sleeping as well." In a way, I tried to tell her that I was feeling "edgy" as well, hoping that she would read into it and realize that something was up on my side as well.

By coming back to my room, she had made the first move to end the awkwardness that had crept up between us. Only it was an indirect move and there was no clear-cut way for me to respond to it. I just sat there quietly, thinking of what to say next, as did she while standing next to me.

She was the first to come up with something after a long pause. "You haven't seen the farm yet. How about tomorrow I take you around?"

I smiled with relief. "Yeah, that would be nice. I'll look forward to it."

She smiled as well, as the tension faded from her body.

"Good. So, it's a date."

"Yeah, it's a date." I felt quite at ease.

She folded her hands behind her back, bent a little forward, and swayed her torso as she said: "Shall we try our goodnight thing again?"

There was a glint of playfulness in her eyes and a touch of naughtiness on her lips. She looked cute and I was moved by her subtle way of bringing up a subject that I had no idea about how to bring it up. There was acknowledgement of the fact that we had overreacted and of the fact that there was something to overreact to; only we shouldn't have and she was now trying to undo whatever that needed to be undone. In other words, she wanted to start over and get past the earlier incident. I felt relieved, especially for not being the only one who had felt awkward.

"We can, only that I am not as decent now as I was earlier."

She laughed a good, hearty laugh. "Well, in that case, I will only look above your bellybutton."

"No, really." I said with seriousness. "I am not decent. I am only in my briefs. First turn around and let me get decent."

Once she realized my seriousness, she quickly turned around. I was reluctant in getting out from under the blanket, but I eventually did. I went to the closet and put my pants on quickly and then retrieved my undershirt from the dresser. Once I was "decent", I said: "Okay. I am now ready." As a joke, I wrapped the bed sheet around my waist pretending to do it for the sake of modesty. She had another laugh as I stood in front of her.

She put her arms around my neck and I placed my arms around her waist. As she pressed into me, I realized that her T-shirt was even more effective than her one piece dress in enhancing the contours of her back. At the same time, there was a lot less material between her and me, so the softness was even more penetrating than before. Her breasts felt good on my chest even though her bra was taking away some of the heavenly feelings oozing out of her T-shirt.

I deliberately caressed the small of her back and she squeezed me on purpose to show that it didn't matter this time. Just to drive the point home, we held each other longer than we had done previously. She lingered on as I was reluctant to open my arms. Our conversation about not being decent and about looking above my bellybutton had put some ease into our hug. We were relaxed about it and it was okay with both of us to be in each other's arms like that. She was comfortable with my pretend semi-nakedness and I was comfortable with her breasts pressing into my heart. It was after all only a goodnight hug. Nothing more.

When we eventually separated, she said enthusiastically: "Well...goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sis." I responded with equal zeal. I had no guilt about hugging her and I enjoyed the softness of her body and warmth of her breasts with more contentment.

She stopped at the door and turned around to give me a full look. Then said: "Tomorrow. Early."

I smiled and replied: "Yes, early."

I had trouble sleeping again for a long time, but this time the restlessness was for different reasons.

We were barely two acres away from the house the next morning when one of the help came running after us. My mom had sent her to inform us that I had a special visitor. My sister asked her: "Who is it?"

"It's Maria," she replied.

I was surprised to hear that name. I didn't expect her to come and see me, but she did come and I had to go and see her.

My sister wasn't happy at this interruption in our plans and particularly because it was Maria who interrupted us. She said, rather gruffly: "What the hell does she want?"

"I'll go find out," I replied as I came back to the house.

Maria was my past and my sister knew the history. My heart was still bleeding from the breakup, when she had told me that she couldn't wait for me while I went away to study. I had never quite gotten over her or over the fact that she didn't even wait that long before getting married to someone else. Apparently, neither did my sister, who never forgave her.

After Maria's visit, which lasted a couple of hours, another surprise came looking for me. The dean of the Imperial Valley College came to see me with a few of the faculty members and they took me for a tour of the campus. I ended up spending the whole day with them which was followed by a nice dinner afterwards. I didn't get back home until late at night when everyone seemed to have turned in by that time.

I took my time freshening up as I mulled over the day's proceedings. When I came out, I only had my towel wrapped around me, thinking that no one was coming into my room. I was somewhat surprised to see my sister sitting on my bed waiting for me. I felt a little self-conscious, but she seemed upset for some reason. I wanted to at least put my undershirt on, but seeing the gloom on her face, I decided to just tend to her. That seemed more urgent.

She asked: "So, how was the visit."

I replied in a tired voice: "It was nice. I have the opportunity to start a new department at the college. Even though I only have a BS, the dean and the faculty are willing to ..."

She cut me short: "I am talking about the other visit."

I had to think for a second before realizing that she meant Maria. "Oh, that. It was okay."

"Okay." She was very serious. "What do you mean okay?"

"How shall I put it?" I thought carefully before giving my answer. "It was sad."

"Sad," she seemed surprised. "How so?"

"You know how crazy I was about her. Well, I am still crazy about her, but it wasn't the same. I used to think...no, I used to feel that my life ended with her loss, but now I can't help but wonder why I used to feel that way, or rather that strongly."

She just listened while looking at me, again with those vacant eyes of hers.

I continued: "I don't think she is happy with her life, and I find that sad as well."

"Well, it serves her right. She doesn't deserve to be happy."

I found her remark to be rather cruel, but I decided to let it go. I didn't expect her to hold a grudge on my behalf, but apparently she did and she was feeling some sort of resentment towards Maria. I couldn't help but notice that there was more to her seriousness and I couldn't figure out what it could be or why it was that way.

I looked at her and found her deep in thought, staring at the nails of her right hand. Her hair was a little disheveled. I stood in front of her and moved one strand away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. I asked: "What's the matter, Cris? You look upset."

She didn't answer. Instead she bit one of her nails and dropped her hands to her knees. I felt like there was something she wanted to say, but couldn't. Another strand fell and blocked her other eye. While I moved it away and tucked it behind her other ear, she reached forward with her hand and gently held the edge of my towel which was hanging in front of my thighs. I felt this sudden rush in my groin.

The way she had reached out nonchalantly and held the flap in her fingers, tugging at it a little, feeling the fabric, I found that to be very erotic. Whether my mind wanted to or not, my body responded and I felt some movement between my legs. The longer she held that flap, the more aroused I became and my cock stiffened along with it. I could see the towel rising slowly and steadily. Because she was sitting at almost eye level with it, I was afraid that she would probably notice my reaction. I didn't want her to see my erection but at the same time I didn't want her to move her hand away either.

She asked, softly: "So...how did it feel to be in her presence?"

I looked at her carefully before answering that question. Her interest in Maria wasn't just casual. Apparently, she was fishing for something, but what, I could only guess. I guessed she didn't want me to entertain any ideas of picking up with Maria, knowing that she was now married. Most likely she didn't want me to get hurt again because it was quite devastating the last time.

But there was something else that troubled me. There was a shadow on her face that betrayed her emotions. If she didn't want me to get hurt, all she had to do was to just come out and tell me to be careful. It seemed like she didn't want me to feel about Maria the way I used to feel for some other reason; something deeper and more personal. It was almost like she was being territorial, but what gave her that right, I couldn't fathom. Even her being territorial was rather passive; almost like she was hoping for me not to be interested in Maria any longer, but if I was, she would have to accept it.

She had stopped moving her fingers around the flap of my towel; she only held it while waiting for my answer. I was fully erect by that time. My heartbeat had increased considerably and my breathing had become uneven as a result. I decided to say nothing. She was looking at her fingers, which meant she was looking at my towel, which further meant that she was looking at the bulge in the towel. She waited for my answer as I waited for her next move. There was something very attractive about her portfolio at that time that I found myself drawn to the image in front of me.

She looked up to see my face, basically to see why I wasn't answering her. I was at an arm's length from her. When her face came up, I moved closer, slightly pushing her hand towards her with my thigh. I reached with both hands and held her face with them. I said: "Don't worry, Cris. Things are not the same as before."

"But you said that you are still crazy about her," She said in a sad voice and I could see a little quiver in her lips. Something dawned on, as if I understood what was going on in her mind. It was as if she was feeling jealous and wanted me to reassure her for something that I never thought I would have to worry about, that my feelings for Maria meant nothing.

I looked straight into her eyes, feeling soft and gentle towards her, still holding her face in my hands, and with as much sincerity as I could muster in my look, I said: "Maria means nothing to me, Cris. She was my past and she is now history. So, don't worry."

With those words, I reached down and held her hand that was holding my towel and gently pulled her up. She was reluctant to get up but I persisted until she gave in and stood in front of me. I then took her other hand in my other hand and brought both of them to my waist. After placing them there, I reached around her shoulders with my arms to give her a hug and waited for her to move into me; which she did, after some hesitation. I held her gently against me as she rested her head on my shoulder.

We stood like that for a long time. I had to shift my weight from one foot to another while holding her like that and found us both swaying to silence. It was a very tender moment between us, with me holding her knowing that she needed a hug, and her resting into me, almost melted into me, happy to be held and thankful for the emotional support, whatever reason there was for her needing such support. I had successfully diffused her dilemma while creating a new one for myself.

When we did separate, we didn't quite let go of each other. I held my hands on her arms and her hands fell down to my hips, at the top part of the towel that was wrapped around me. We stood there like that for a while; me trying to figure out from her face what she was thinking, while she looked at my chest as if trying to avoid my gaze.

I noticed that the front of her T-shirt had gotten wet from the residual water on my body that I hadn't quite dried completely. Wherever the moisture went into the fabric of her shirt, it clung to her body in a very sensuous way. That was the second erotic thing for the evening.

At first I thought of not saying anything, but the moment seemed right for me to show some additional tenderness towards her. I reached slowly and rubbed my hand on her T-shirt, while saying: "I am sorry, Sis. I made you wet."

She looked down on my hand which was caressing the area between her neck and her cleavage, and replied: "It's okay. I kind of like the feelings."

I knew we had bonded at a different level. It wasn't a brother offering a shoulder to his sister. It was—and the realization sent a chill through my body, almost a wave of fear—a man providing just the right response to a woman. I had created a new dimension in our relationship and I wasn't quite sure what that meant. May be our relationship now included friendship as part of its ingredients, or even more. If that was true, then it was indeed a very special thing for us both in addition to being brother and sister.

There was no denying that there was a certain amount of intimacy between us, but there was no way for me to consider it sexual, although my responses were quite clearly sexually motivated. I was feeling aroused. I had a tremendous erection. My body was warm all over. My breathing was irregular. But, nowhere in my mind were the thoughts of actually having sex with my sister, and I wasn't entertaining any fantasies about laying her.

Yes, we were overly affectionate, but I attributed it to the rubber band effect of our separation. We had extended quite far in one direction because of the distance I had created between us, and were now just snapping back in the other direction. But, I expected us to soon stabilize and get back to our normal, natural state of being. The moment seemed perfect for me to pull her into myself once again for another hug and she responded by moving against me. We held each other once again, listening to the silence of the night and the sounds of our breathing.

I don't know if she came back to my room later that night or not because I fell asleep soon after hitting the bed. When I woke up the next morning and looked for her, she had gone to the city for some errands. I wanted to take her up on that tour offer but I had to leave it for another day.

I did finally get a chance to spend some time with my mom.

She gave me breakfast and joined me with her cup of coffee when I finished. We made some small talk and then finally I asked her: "So, how are you mom?"

She replied: "I am okay son. It is nice to have you back."

"No, mom. How are you, really?"

"I am okay son." She repeated her answer. I guess she didn't quite catch my emphasis. "A bit lonely, but okay otherwise." Then again, maybe she did.

"Well, this place can do that to you. Have you made any efforts to counter that?"

"There is not much one can do about it. This place is too small and the possibilities are little to nil."

I sort of knew what she was talking about but I didn't want to dig too deep. It was my mother we were talking about and I had a limited number of suggestions before things became uncomfortable for the both of us. I just listened.

"Things have changed quite a bit in the last few years. People have changed as well. It is becoming harder and harder to determine the true nature of friends and acquaintances."

"Surely there are some people one can trust, or hang out with." I offered my opinion, rather reluctantly.

"Used to be. Even youngsters today are having the same kind of problems that I am having."

"I find that hard to believe. I mean, forget about the normal hangouts. What about the college? There must be a ton of smart intelligent youngsters one can associate with. Even some adults like you." I was basically shooting in the dark. I felt odd talking about the youngsters like that; as if I was from a totally different generation.

"Well, the normal hangouts no longer exist because of two main problems that seem to be plaguing the young people of today: drugs and gangs. The college scene requires more energy than it is worth. Students there are temporary; they have nothing long term to offer."

"But, what I remember from a few years back, there must be plenty of people one can hang out with."

"Son, I am not talking about sex here. There are plenty of guys willing to go to bed with you...well, with us, me and your sister that is. We are talking about something deeper, something that doesn't make you feel cheap and tawdry."

Well, that is not how far I wanted the conversation to go. Since it had gone that far, I had no choice but to carry it further.

"So, Cris is also going through the same things as you are. But she is a beautiful girl. She shouldn't have any problems."

"Sadly, she does. We both are in the same boat. Only, she is not as bad now as she used to be."

"What do you mean? What has changed for her? Maybe the same can change for you."

She was quiet. She didn't want to answer me even though I could sense the words just stuck on her tongue.

I prodded further: "What has changed for her, mom? How are things different for her? Why is she not as bad as she used to be? Whatever the reason, it can also benefit you."

She deliberated for a while, then said: "She is happier, or rather more content, now. She doesn't seem to be as moody or as volatile as she was before. She has found a placebo for her so called ailment, and this placebo is helping her just like the real medicine would."

"Okay, now you are talking in riddles, mom. You need to make some sense."

"I don't want to put words to things that are better left alone, son. She has found a solution to her dilemma. It doesn't matter if the solution is somewhat unorthodox. What matters is that she has accepted the solution as her only recourse under the circumstances. As long as she is fine with it, no one should care, or know for that matter."

"But you know, mom. Doesn't that make a difference?"

"Well, I am her sister-in-arms, so it makes no difference that I know. I just hope she is more secretive where others are concerned."

"But you approve of it, or rather, you don't disapprove of it." I was starting to get a hint about what my mother was talking about and I felt a chill run down my spine.

"I have decided that it is probably the best thing for her; as long as things stay under control. There is nothing that I want more than to see my daughter get some joy out of her youth."

"What about you then? Doesn't the same thing work for you? Don't you want to get some joy out of your youth?" My heart skipped a beat as I finished those sentences. I was quite sure I knew what we were talking about, and it made me feel petrified.

"I have thought about it, but I am afraid—no, I am sure—I will not get the same response as her, and I won't be able to undo the damage as easily as she will, being young and wild."

I took my mother's words in and carefully thought of the significance of her confession. It must have been very difficult for her to tell me as much as she did. At the same time, my mind was having trouble grasping the enormity of her words or the implications hidden between the lines.

I thought for a while and then asked: "But, how is this going to be a substitute for the real thing. I mean, the placebo has its benefits, but it can't replace the real medicine when only the real medicine will do."