Sara's Pregnant

"Oh Godddd." I moaned.

Her eyes went wide, glancing around. I needed to be quiet. My mind racing. Sara raised her hips slid back again, and moved her hand between her legs.

Fuck, oh fuck.

Her hand slid between her legs, and the movement under her robe took on the unmistakable movement and steady rhythm. She was masturbating, squeezing her thighs around her hand. I wanted to kiss her as she did that. Kiss her neck and watch her lift her chin up. I knew I was in love with her. I always had been. That she was doing this. Our bodies were formed to the other. I knew her every thought. Her head turned to the side. She had pulled her robe closed now, not needing to be ready for the distraction of Mark, which next moment actually did occur. He walked in and sat down, she stopped all movement but left her hand where it was.

When, he got up again and wandered off I asked, "What does he do?" surprising her. She began masturbating again as I stroked my cock.

"Oh, he has papers he goes through, things he fixes. The garage."

Silence again, hands roaming. Her cheeks flushed, and she was squirming now.

"Good show." I said signaling to the TV.

"You like it." She smiled.

I just watched, and she continued, breathing deep. Her hand moving faster, chewing her lower lip, tipping her head back. Eyes closed now. It was too much. I ached. My hand running along my cock. I realized that at this point I could not bear a second longer, and began to scratch my fingers along my cock, I needed release. I was going to give my own show, and I needed to cum. Pressing, scratching along the length of my cock. She watched me with her eyes half closed.

I watched until the tell tale spasm of her body, the squeeze of her thighs, signaling a delicious little orgasm; and my cock sprayed inside my pants, leaving a stain.

We couldn't talk, we were idiots, masturbating for each other, watching each other cum.

So this is weaning.

------------------

Weaning can happen with words too.

It was afternoon, a lovely day and we were outside on the back patio.

"Sara. You remember that first night, we shared a bed."

Her eye twinkled a moment, she answered evenly. "What about it?"

"Just seeing if you do. Best night of my life."

"Pervert."

She was cross stitching. A very unlike Sara thing to do.

"I can remember everything." She was silent. That light outside the window made you glow, I can remember how you look when you sleep. You had shifted right next to me, and for some reason, you probably didn't even know, but I lay my hand right at your stomach."

She looked up at me, "I was not asleep. Don't know why I let you. It was - nice. You were sweet."

"It's the first time I thought of you as sexy."

She laughed, "it's the first time I thought of you as a pervert."

"It was innocent."

"it was nice. It wasn't innocent."

"I fell back asleep like that, with my hand on you. And when I woke up my hand was in the exact same spot on you, but your bare skin."

She sighed. "That was because of ME actually. I lay there awake, your hand on my tummy. I wanted to feel it on my skin, it felt so nice against me, warm and heavy. I tugged and tugged my nightshirt up, and when your hand was safe there right against me, the warmth of your bare hand, I lay my head in your shoulder and then, finally, I could sleep. I remember the warmth."

I had never heard that part, she never said anything about it.

"You never said that."

"No, considering what happened next."

"I massaged you."

"Yes, you did." She stretched out at the thought. Yes she was feline.

"I knew you weren't asleep?"

"No. Your hand, the moment it moved. Your every move I was aware of. Little circles over my tummy." She looked down at her swollen belly. "I thought you were going to touch my breast, and that's why I took your hand. But you were a persistent little bugger."

"I wasn't sure you had even been awake. You didn't pull your top down. And you kept holding my hand, so warm. Your breathing."

She closed her eyes. "Stop."

"That is when I looked at you."

She blushed, "Stop."

"We were just covered by that sheet and I peaked at you. The light in the room illuminated your body. Burned in my memory. So beautiful, those white panties. First time I ever saw your breasts.

"I don't have that body any more."

"Oh you are still beautiful."

She smiled. "You can be sweet. And then I let go, and that hand of yours went right back at it. I hoped you would though. It felt nice to be touched, I knew you were looking at me. You looked ridiculous with your head under the covers. I let it happen. I shouldn't have but, I did. You were touching my panties now and I was like, this has to stop. I wanted it, but knew it was wrong. I took your hand again. I had to stop you."

"Oh god. I was so mortified when you looked at me under the sheet. Your growl, 'Get up Here'"

"It was then I knew just how WELL you could see me. Pervert."

"I apologized."

"HA. You are always apologizing."

"You held my hand again."

"Yes I did. 'You like looking don't ya.'" That was same phrase she used before. She remembered everything just like me. "The next night was when I was really conflicted about it, about you. It was so wrong. I was pretty vulnerable then. I did not feel all that pretty, hadn't had a good boyfriend in a long time. Excited about being in a bathing suit, and suddenly I have this boy in my bed."

"It was you who teased me with a description of the panties you were wearing that day. And, YOU also were the one who rolled your top up again."

She continued her stitching, "Guilty as charged. At that point I wanted you to touch me again, I admit it."

"And I did."

"Oh, yeah. You did all right. I was in shock. We did a lot."

"You were wide awake. You were a feline then. I just rubbed you, your hands, arm."

"My breasts. Mmmm." Her mmmm came out without her fully conscious of it.

"You loved it. Your eyes on me as I did it the whole time. I'll never forget. And I was good, I let go when you wanted. We fell asleep with my hands on you."

"I can't call it sleep. I felt everything. I was melting. Every time you woke you would rub my body, and break me down."

"The feel of you. I could do it all night."

"You did."

"You let me rub you everywhere, didn't move at all. You did have small panties, and I so remember running my hand across the very top of them. Mmmmm."

"Make me crazy."

She was squeezing her legs together.

"You were so bad, god how you wanted to touch my breasts. Teasing around them, just along the edges. And THEN! You didn't grab THEM! You grabbed me, god, your hand went right to my pussy. Ohhh, I was not expecting THAT! Pussy tames you good."

"Your first growl."

"God. We weren't even alone in the room that night. I could NOT make noise. Oh," she shook her head. "Stop." She had set the stitching down and lay her hand over her crotch. "It hurts."

"I pushed my hand into those panties. You were such a cat, pushing against me wherever I touched you. I wanted to see if you were wet, and you burst. Oh god you burst."

"It was everything I could do to stop you. Our folks in the next bed. I took your hand then!"

"Yes. And when the negotiations began, the ones that could never hold."

"The summits."

"You can touch me here and not here, you can squeeze my tits but not play with my nipples. Fuck. Jason! You have me so wet right now."

"You were the one who invited me back into your bed. And pulled me up against your back."

"Yes. Next to go, my panties."

She looked at me. Her eyes met mine, liquid lust. I had touched something in her just then.

"It was our first night we had sex." She closed her eyes. "The sweetest, softest, baddest sex I'd ever had. I can't remember how many times."

I slid my chair closer and put my hand on her neck, she lifted her chin, let me draw my hand down her front and lightly stroke her breasts over her top. She did not move, let me stroke her body, her arms, her lips, down her throat. I squeezed and held her breasts, felt their weight. Her chin fell and she watched my hand.

I whispered to her, "You're not the kind of person who anyone gets over."

"You have any idea how horny a pregnant woman is?"

-----------------------------

And those eyes.

I saw tears. "I remember everything. You are not someone I can say no to you know."

And she took my hand, let out such a deep sigh. Held my hand between her knees.

"We can't."

-------------

About a week later:

I came in and sat down by her.

She glanced up, "You going to make me cry again?" Sara said leaning back into the corner of the sofa, nibbling her lower lip, and gazing across at me.

She had on this fantastic yellow crinkle sun dress that fell just below her knees. So cheerful, the fabric was light, supple, but it had weight. Had to be expensive.

She continued, "You have a way of showing up out of the blue haven't you? At my vulnerable moments."

"Like last time? At your wedding."

She blushed. "Yeah. Like that."

"You answering the door in your fucking wedding dress, drinking champagne."

"Ha!! That was a million years ago."

"Well I'm back. Hi," I said reaching her arm and giving it a squeeze. She raised her foot and pushed my hand away, which left the hem of her dress raised high on her thigh, and giving me a peak up her thighs, no panties this time.

She gave a mock frown, "I was mad at you, for leaving. Where were you? Why ARE you here?"

I kept the mystery alive responding, "Don't know if I'm ready to go into it all yet. I appreciate everything you've done. And Mark."

I could tell she was not sure how to respond. Curiosity. Compassion. Loneliness.

I Pointed out the sliding glass window, "A blue-jay."

Silence.

Finally, she says, "I loved my wedding practice. It is the baddest thing we ever did." She let out a breath, "It's taken five years of therapy to get over you."

"You're kidding? A therapist?" My mind racing. I had never thought about us leaving our hermetically sealed world, of moving it outside of US. Of her going to someone else and talking about it. "You tell him about, I mean. Anything about. You know."

"It's a Her. And, yeah, I told her Everything."

"About US. As in, brother and sister. You serious?"

She just nodded. "Just about everything." What a rush, a weird thrill ran through me, the idea of her words reaching another human being about what we had done. She looked so soft and delicate, her hair falling over her shoulders. She was so female, a softness that is hard to put in words. The fabric of her dress, her throat, small chin.

"They didn't like arrest us or anything? Call the paddy wagons."

"It's more common than you think." She put me at ease, "If the ages of the siblings are similar, like less than three years, and circumstances being what they are, or were, there are triggers. Conservative parents. Absent father. It fit, and she helped me make sense, make peace with myself. We were, actually, the postcard dysfunctional family."

Her eyes turned to me. I reached to take her hand. She let me briefly, but pulled away again.

"I've missed you. I miss us."

"Jason."

Silence.

"You are beautiful, you know that?"

"Stop."

"I don't think your husband thinks too highly of me."

"Oh, it's all fine. Mark's fine. He likes things just so, that's all, the house and everything."

"You can't have said very nice things about me. I mean..."

"I never said anything bad."

"What HAVE you said?"

As we talked, I gradually slid closer watching her breathe, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her nose moved as she talked. Her dress dipped down between her breasts, and the bulge of her tummy from beneath where the sun dress cinched at mid chest. The bulge of her tummy, and the dress dipping down between her thighs raised up high across her hips. She made no effort to cover her sex from me. Her breasts were so much bigger. I watched as her long hair slipped down over her cheeks. She was so beautiful. I could feel her warmth as I slid closer, and her smell, sweet and deep. I was drinking her in as we talked.

So comfortable, guards falling. Our bodies were beginning to intertwine. Losing that thread of where one ends and the other begins.

"About us? Nothing. I mean, that your my brother, I don't know where you went, that I missed you. I worried. That's it."

"But still, anytime there is family that is never coming round, one is bound to think not good things."

She tried to change the subject, "So you can't tell me anything Jason? You going to remain a mystery. Why are you here? You break up with someone?"

She hit the target close. "I probably need therapy." I tried a laugh. "Let's say it is better to have loved and..."

She finished it, "Lost..."

"I was going to say abandoned."

She was looking at me, concern in her eyes. "Adults aren't abandoned. We aren't children anymore to be abandoned. When you're ready, tell me. You can tell me anything. Ok?"

"Lets just say...she's the bitch, now." I felt a tear in my eye, trying to be tough. But the words hurt. It's probably the most honest I had been. Sara was staring intently, listening to me and everything else melted. I said it again, "I think you are beautiful, and I missed you." Running my finger along her wrist.

"Stop."

"You said anything."

"You know what I mean."

My eyes misting, "It felt like abandonment though." I left interpretation open, my ex or my sister.

I took her hand and she let me. She slid her small fingers over mine, rubbing my palm like it had a stain in it. I responded. We held our hands out flat between us and then folded our fingers together.

"Feels nice."

She said nothing. Her breathing was quicker. I opened my hand again and ran my fingers down her wrist to her elbow and back again. Over and over.

"This Ok?"

"Mmmm. A little." And we so silently let our hands touch together. Fingers stroking our palms, fingers entwined, simple soft caresses along our arms. Sliding closer, not even realizing our movement.

I asked, "We can hold hands?" She met my eyes, without saying no. My heart lept at that single point of allowed access. Without thinking I spoke, and immediately regretted what I said, "Can I kiss you?"

She looked surprised, "No. Behave," pulling her hand away.

"Sorry." Shit.

We were both still facing each other though. Our knees just about touching. She did not move any further away. I believe she was realizing how much closer we had gotten, with our heads laying against the sofa cushions, relaxed, eying one another. Her dress brushed against my cheek. It felt so right with her, I felt like I could breathe.

"Remember our first kiss?"

Sara closed her eyes, "I remember."

I reached to her and moved a strand of hair from her cheek.

"You need to stop." Eyes closed.

"I'm not doing anything. I love looking in your eyes...your hair was in the way. You have beautiful lips." I touched her lower lip with my finger and added in a whisper, "One kiss."

"Jason! If this is how you are going to be, like this."

"I'm, sorry. It's hard. You have to know, you have to feel some of the same things."

"It's different now. It's wrong. I don't want anything to...I work hard to be where I am."

"I know. I know. I'm not saying run off. I miss your taste, to have one taste. I barely remember." Was I whining?

Her cheeks glowed and her head lay on the cushion. She opened her eyes in little slits, looking at me.

Silence.

I could not help myself as I prattled on, "No one knows. One. One little kiss. Sara. Just surrender, that little bit."

She closed her eyes and I felt the breath go out of her as she froze. Neither a yes or no.

Consent.

I leaned in and touched her lips with mine. She remained there unmoving. No other response. I felt the warmth of her, her smell before she turned.

She opened her eyes, looking back at me - mischievous - and I immediately protested. There was a thin smile on her lips.

"Not what I meant. A kiss. A real kiss."

She leaned to me, our foreheads touching. We were so close, too close for a brother and sister.

"Brat."

Without a word, I leaned in again without her moving away, touching her cheek with my hand and guided her mouth to mine. Our trembling lips, reaching. This time I felt her lips lightly, and I pressed her lower lip between mine. I felt her mouth open, pressed in with my warm tongue. We let our tongues touch. Tip to tip. Soft. Slow. Electric. I turned to her and we pressed ourselves close, folding our bodies slowly molding into one another. Kissing. I have no idea how long we kissed, delicious long lovely kisses. I wrapped my arm around and held my Sara to me. The thin fabric of her dress clung to her body, feelling as if she had nothing on at all. How long had it been?

We stopped and caught our breath, moving back but still within reach of each other. I had my hand at her hip, scraping my fingers up and down, could feel the warmth of her. I lowered the palm of my hand to her ass and then sliding up to her waist, no panties. Watching her breathe, the weight of her breasts. No bra, and felt suddenly very warm. She leaned away from me, letting my hand lay across her tummy, rubbing her through the thin fabric. Her pregnant body was more awkward, not lithe and bendable as I remember.

"Wow!" I said.

She eyed me, "You are so bad." But I could see she was proud of herself, her effect on me.

"You knew we might."

She harrumphed. "You've had your hands all over me. You've been a walking talking seduction. But a kiss. No. I wasn't going to let it."

I moved close, nose to nose, and she did not pull away. Leaning nearer, not asking, I lay my mouth on hers for a third time, as I talked. "I missed you." She could feel my lips brushing hers as I spoke, keeping her head where it was as my words washed over her. Eyes sparkling and fixed on mine. "A thousand times I missed you. I love your taste. You know that. You are beautiful. It all comes back." Breaking our kiss, I let my hand wander up along her side and down across her tummy, brushing the narrow line of her ribs between her tummy and breasts, feeling the top of her breasts at the back of my hand. I once again lay my hand back over the swell of her belly.

"Pregnant," as I caressed her tummy, stroking the bulge and the hem of her dress slipping above her knees. At my touch she shifted herself up and away, but now with knees lifted the dress sliding down her thighs.

"Ok Jason." She said not angry at all, almost sad. "You kissed me. We can't. We can't do this," tugging her dress back over her knees. "Stop," she added as I followed her movement as she slid away. I began pulling at her. Her eyes widening, "Jason! I'm serious."

"Ok. But One, one more."

I kissed her again and she responded by pressing her whole body to me, leaning me back and laying down on me. Her mouth opening, biting into me. Hungry. She was chewing my lips, sucking my lower lip the way I loved, tipping her chin up and I began to nibble her neck. Her breasts pressed to my chest. God, she loved when I nibbled her neck. I clung to her, rocking her in my arms as we kissed. Sliding my knee up between her legs making contact with her groin, we lay side by side, her dress tucked between her legs. My cock was so hard.

As we kissed she was panting, "Stop. Stop." Her rocking body over me, kissing me between her words.

Me protesting, "One minute. One more," and continued nibbling down her neck, soft kisses biting her there, across her collarbone and at her shoulder, running kisses across the top of her breasts. She sighed, rubbing and rocking her pussy along my thigh, humping my leg, giving me her neck, her throat, and tossing back her hair. I could feel her surrender. She was so hot and hungry. God, she was NOT getting any. "Oh, Jason." I knew this was one of her favorite ways to be kissed, and I continued to nibble around her ears, along her shoulder.