Twisted Fate

"Oh, well we still have time, something will pop up, I just know it."

"Yeah, sure," I grumbled, my eyes drifting up the length of her long legs and coming to a rest on the little mound between them. My mind drifted back to those moments between her thighs. The way she was so tight it felt like she was squeezing the blood from my cock.

I could almost taste her heady flavor against my tongue, almost feel the soft, tender folds of her labia as my mouth rested against it. The delicate pearl of her clit pulled tight between my lips as my tongue strummed against it. God she was delicious. The way she let out a little squeak when I slid my fingers inside, the way her hips pitched against my hand as she worked to let me deeper, the sound of her moan as she came in my mouth.

Fuck, she was all I could think about anymore. I wanted to kiss her again, to feel the soft tendrils of her hair tickling my neck, to immerse myself in the scent of her shampoo. I wanted feel her skin against mine, warm and soft, sweet, just like the petals of a rose. Worse still, I wanted to finish what we'd started, I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to feel the tightness of her walls closing around me as I slipped inside, I wanted to watch her face as I made her cum and feel her body twist in ecstasy beneath mine, to listen to her moan as we climaxed together.

I felt a slight twitch in my groin and quickly looked away. "I'll let you know if I find anything," I said, going back to my book.

"Matt," she muttered, "why won't you tell me what I did?"

"There's nothing to tell." I refused to look at her, refused to even acknowledge she was there and, instead, stared at my book. But I couldn't see the words, couldn't concentrate, it could have been written in Chinese for all I knew. All I could see were her lips and that pout, thinking about what that mouth had done to me and how it'd made me feel, and, shit, how much I wanted to feel that way again.

I tried to focus my energy on the mashed up letters on the page. Marissa would just have to learn to be okay with this mystery conflict, she'd just have to figure out how to be okay with things being different between us now. There was no way I could tell her, but there was also no way I could pretend that everything was fine. It wasn't fine and it seemed very far from ever being that again.

"Why won't you look at me?" she shrieked, punching my shoulder. Sure, it stung for a minute, but I wouldn't give in and eventually she'd go away. "Look at me!" she shrieked again, climbing on top of me and ripping away my book. With a heavy thud it hit the floor and it was just us, Marissa nestled on my lap now dangerously close to the truth. My desire for her just inches away from her thigh.

"I'm not mad," I affirmed, shaking my head, "but I will be if you don't get off me."

"No! Not until you tell me what I did, let me apologize, Matt, tell me what happened. Tell me why you won't talk to me or even look at me anymore, tell me! I love you and you hate me and I don't know why!"

Her words, her quivering lips, were like a sharp blade to my heart, it stopped my breath and left me feeling weak, limp, impotent, unable even to speak. This wasn't her fault, it was mine, and that knowledge broke my heart.

Marissa scrambled farther onto my lap, grasping my face between her hands as she forced our eyes to meet, so close I could practically taste the toothpaste on her tongue. In that moment I wanted to answer her question, I wanted to share with her the truth she was trying so hard to excavate, to tell her with a kiss.

"Please Matt, tell me, I can't do this anymore, I can't have you mad at me, please tell me. This is killing me," she pleaded.

"Marissa..." I gulped, feeling her settle in against the throbbing erection I was trying so desperately to ignore. Her body, her breath against my face, her breasts mere inches from my hands, it was all too much to take. All I wanted to do was kiss her, touch her, taste her, push myself inside and make love to her.

"Please..." I wiggled in an attempt to get out from under her but she was prepared and matched my squirming with a frustrating wiggle of her own. She straddled me now and all that remained between us were our clothes, my cock pressed hard against her warm pussy. I tried to push her back, push her away, but she bucked her hips and dug in her heels, grinding harder against me.

But suddenly she stopped and I felt my breath catch as she stared down between her thighs, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh Matt," she whispered from behind her hands. "Oh... Matt. That night, oh my God, that night," she gasped. "That's why... it was you, wasn't it? I couldn't remember it, it was so fuzzy, and then I thought I'd just imagined... Jesse... but I remember... oh my God Matt, it was you." And with that freaked out, fumbled confession, Marissa scrambled off the bed and launched from my room, slamming her bedroom door seconds later.

***

For almost two weeks Marissa barely came out of her room. On occasion I would hear her at night, in the shower or rushing around the kitchen, but she never once knocked on my door. I guess I should have expected that. She had every right to be pissed, if I were her I wouldn't talk to me either. And maybe she never would, but I deserved that. It seemed appropriate. Either way, I decided not to pressure her and gave her the space she needed to sort it out. Maybe one day she'd forgive me and, if not, that was okay too. Whatever she needed in order to feel better about things, that's what I would give her, that's the way it would be.

"Did we fuck?" Marissa asked from just outside my open door. I hadn't even noticed her standing there but, to be honest, I'd stopped looking a few days earlier when it seemed clear that she was never going to speak to me again. So her voice, her mere presence, was shocking.

"What?" I gulped, uncertain what she'd said.

"Did. We. Fuck?" she said again, more forcefully this time, punctuating every word. "I'm a little hazy on that one and I need to know, so did we?"

"No," I lied, knowing that was the answer she needed to hear.

"Then I don't care about whatever else happened, it was a mistake and it's over now and I've decided that it doesn't matter."

"Oh, um, alright... good, that's really... good." Admittedly my heart sank, there was still a part of me that didn't want it to be a mistake.

"So if you're done being all weird, I'd like to hang out with my brother. For some reason I seem to be missing the jerk lately."

"Yeah, sure," I smiled anemically, patting the bed after sliding to the very edge, offering her the choicest spots to pick from. "A movie would be good, your choice."

"Good," she said firmly.

I watched as Marissa's delicate fingers traced the long line of titles on the shelf beside the television, leaning over my desk to examine them individually. My eyes drank in her curves as she moved, knowing I'd be dead if she caught me but unable to look away. The word Juicy -- god was that true -- was sprawled across her gorgeous ass, her tight sweats clung to every concealed inch. As she leaned across my desk, her tank top pulled free and rose a few inches above her narrow waist, exposing a soft sliver of skin on her back. I clenched my fists, trying to fight back the urge to reach over and touch it.

Had she always been this sexy? Had I just never noticed before? And when had I become such a disaster? No woman had ever made me this jumpy, this absolutely insane. Marissa was in my every waking thought. If I wasn't busy beating myself up, I was beating myself off, thinking about her mouth around my cock or the way she fucked my fingers or those few moments I was inside her, even the little sounds she made when she came. Shit, I was getting hard and before she could catch me, I settled a pillow against my lap.

"I'm not mad you know," she said as she slipped a movie in the DVD player and grabbed the remote. "Just, I don't know, maybe a little freaked."

"Yeah... I'm so sorry Marissa, I never meant..."

"I don't want you to apologize. I don't even want to talk about it, I just want to get past it. You're all I've got Matt, you're everything. If things ever went bad, if I ever lost you, well... there just wouldn't be anything left."

"Alright then, I'm not sorry," I offered, knowing I was treading a dangerous line but hopeful she would see the truth through my feeble attempt at levity.

Ignoring my comment, Marissa grabbed a pillow and made herself comfortable at the opposite end of the bed, her feet coming to a rest against my arm. I studied her delicate little toes, the deep cherry polish seeming to glimmer against her skin. I wanted to touch her, to feel her skin. I promised myself that was all I wanted, but I knew that was a lie; I knew it because not five minutes into the movie my eyes were drifting up her long, lean legs to her firm, round ass and I felt myself getting hard again.

"Tickle my leg?" she asked, peeking back at me before I could tear my eyes from her spectacular ass. "Below the knee," she amended.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I stuttered, certain I'd been caught.

I pushed back the thin fabric of her sweats and revealed the soft, silky skin of her calves. My fingertips threaded up and down, tracing light feathery patterns along her skin. I felt another twitch in my groin as I worked my way up, stopping just short of her thigh.

Marissa's foot moved easily between my legs, allowing me better advantage of her leg. I slowed my breathing, remembering how this was her favorite thing in the world and that it didn't mean anything. But still I wished it did, I wished she'd slip out of those sweats and spread her legs for me so that I could make her cum again. God, what I wouldn't give to suck her clit between my lips as I slipped my fingers inside her, to feel her body twitch, knowing I was the one doing that to her.

My hands began to tremble from the mere thought of her tight pussy just a few feet away, I could practically taste it again, could practically smell it on my fingers. Marissa stretched her leg out and the tips of her toes slipped beneath the pillow, grazing my cock. Only this time I didn't flinch, this time I didn't move away. I wanted her to touch me. I wanted her to know what she was doing to me. So, instead, I pushed back, leaning into the arch of her foot until my cock settled against its soft curve.

I sat absolutely still, waiting, wondering what she would do; terrified that she'd slap me and run screaming from my room, but unable to pull away. Slowly, very slowly, her foot pressed back against me, though her attention remained fixed on the movie. I stared dumbfounded at the pillow between my legs, my heart ricocheting around my chest.

Slowly I pushed back, sliding the length of my shaft along the soft arch of her foot. I closed my eyes and imagined her grinding against me in those tiny silk panties, their moist fabric clinging to her skin as her pussy stroked against my hard dick. I could feel the pressure in my balls as my cock worked against her, slowly drifting up before gliding back down. A few more strokes and I'd be done for. She must have known it too because her foot was moving against me now, pushing harder.

A low groan escaped my lips and I felt the throbbing increase, the pressure building. Quickly I pushed her foot away and grasped my cock, giving it a few firm tugs as I came into my pillowcase. My head rolled back against the headboard and I finally opened my eyes. Marissa's eyes were on the pillow, or maybe on my arm, either way she knew what I'd just done. But she didn't say anything, she simply cleared her throat and went back to the movie.

I sat stock still for the next hour, silently praying for the movie to end so she'd leave. I couldn't even look at her now, I couldn't risk it. The mere thought of what we'd done together, what she'd just done to me, was enough to get me hard again.

"I guess I should go make dinner," Marissa said, pushing off the bed as the credits rolled. "Thanks for hanging with me."

"Sure, absolutely, anytime," I choked out. Anytime you want to jerk me off with your foot or let me touch you, I thought to myself, just come right on in. I watched her walk toward the door, hips swinging like only a girl's can do, a soft melodic sway. She paused and looked back, offering me a quick smile before she tiptoed out, slipping quietly down the hall.

A deep breath escaped from my lungs, heavy with remorse, thick with excitement. My sister had made me cum -- again -- only this time she had to know what she was doing, this time there was no excuse. And just that thought alone made my cock spring to life.

***

Things were definitely different between us, there was no questioning it, but I wasn't at all certain what that meant. No, Marissa wasn't going out of her way to be sexy or cute, she wasn't flirty or suggestive, she was still Marissa. Only now, when we touched, there was a palpable chemistry between us, a spark of sorts. Maybe it was just me, or a head-full of wishful thinking, but something about the way her eyes held my gaze -- more intensely than I could ever remember -- made me think perhaps it wasn't my imagination. And as the days passed, my guilt subsided, until all I was left with was an ever-present desire. So now, instead of finding reasons to avoid her, I was seeking her out, looking for any excuse to be near her.

"I'm going to Club Halo with Kara and Jen," Marissa said as she leaned against my open door, "wanna come?"

I closed my laptop and swiveled my chair to meet her eyes. She looked amazing in her short black dress. It exposed the stunning curves of her legs and clung to her tight body, holding close to every smooth line of her frame. Her fawn-colored hair cascaded around her shoulders and a stray lock lay nestled in the well of her breasts. I wanted to scream. No, that's not right, I wanted to yank her into my room and slam the door. I wanted to peel the dress from her body and wrap her legs around my neck. I wanted to --

"Yeah," I said, shaking the thoughts and images from my head, "just let me get changed." This was a bad idea, I knew that as soon as the words passed my lips, but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to be with her and if she'd asked me to go shovel shit with her at the local animal shelter, I probably would have said yes to that too.

On the drive to the club I developed a new mantra -- don't let her get drunk -- and I repeated it to myself, over and over. If anything were to ever happen between us, it needed to happen organically, not infused with single malt scotch.

Once there, I did allow Marissa a few drinks but monitored her closely, promptly cutting her off when she seemed to be getting a little tipsy. And since, of the two of us, I was the only one legally allowed to buy liquor, she was in no position to negotiate.

"But I'm old enough to get drafted and shot at," she growled.

"I hardly think you're military material," I countered. Marissa offered me a coy pout but this was not a point I was willing to negotiate. Finally she gave up and headed for the dance floor, dragging Jen and Kara behind her.

I watched Marissa's body as she danced with her friends, that little black dress revealing every sumptuous curve, every delicious detail of her exquisite frame. She'd caught me staring a few times but I'd shrugged it off and offered her a wave, trying my best to look bored. When she and Kara began to grind together, I decided it was time to look away. I spent the next hour at the bar, plucking at the tiny straw in my drink, watching the ice melt.

"Hey," Marissa shouted in my ear, her closeness startling me. "Jen and Kara left, you gonna dance with me?"

I wanted to, but shook my head and told her no.

"Come on," she whined, grabbing my hand, "one dance."

I downed the last of my drink and followed her onto the floor. I tried my best to keep a respectful distance between us, making certain none of our more naughty parts ever made contact, but my eyes touched her everywhere. Sprays of light caressed her body, shades of reds and blues and greens, clinging to the gold in her skin. Tiny beads of sweat seemed to dance along her skin, trapping the light and spreading it across every exposed inch. The gauzy fabric of her dress held tight to her hips like a second skin. Her chest heaved, rising and falling, pushing the air through her lungs, her breath ragged. God I wanted to touch her.

Marissa turned her back to me and swept her thick mane from her neck. Tiny wisps of hair lay plastered against her skin, trapped by a thin sheen of sweat. I could almost smell it, taste its sweet flavor against my tongue. She leaned into me, resting her back against my chest as she stopped to capture her breath.

"Guess I won't have to go to the gym tomorrow," she giggled, tilting her head back to look into my eyes.

"No," I stammered, "guess not." Why was this suddenly so difficult? Since when was it so hard to talk to my sister? It felt like I was back in high school, a gawky, gangly freshman who hadn't yet learned how to talk to girls. I hadn't been that guy in years. Besides, this was Marissa.

"I love this song," she squealed.

Marissa's hands snaked behind my neck and I felt her fingers tickling through my hair. Then her hips began to roll, her ass grazing my groin. I found myself drawn to her hair, its luscious, thick waves, heavy with the scent of her shampoo. I contorted myself, leaning sideways, not wanting to break contact with her tight ass but desperate to press my face against the back of her head. It felt stupid, I knew I was far too close to getting sharply and painfully rebuffed, but I needed to smell her.

Finally finding the right angle, I sank my nose into the streams of her hair and breathed her in. It was so luscious and beautiful, I wanted to stay like that forever. But something warm brushed against my fingertips, distracting me, followed by the cool feel of fabric. So I straightened and chanced a peek, and found the bare skin of her thigh just centimeters away.

When Marissa's ass ground against me again I risked a touch, tracing my fingers across the skin of her thigh. She didn't pull away and I left my fingers there, wanting to venture higher but unwilling to take the chance.

Marissa tipped her head back and pressed her face into my neck, and whispered, "Kara was a pissed you didn't hit on her."

"I'm not interested in Kara anymore," I offered with a shrug.

"I never had an orgasm before," she blurted, seeming dazed by the words, as if momentarily possessed.

"I beg to differ," I replied without thinking, immediately kicking myself for revisiting that place after she'd told me not to.

"I meant before that," she corrected. "Now it's all I can think about."

"Me too." More than anything I wished I could ask her what she remembered, what exactly it was she was thinking about, but I knew better than to poke that hornet's nest.

"I need it to stop, Matt. How do I stop thinking about it?"

She was thinking about it, just like me, and the thought of that sent a flutter through my chest. "Don't," I offered, grazing my lips against her neck, my hand inching up her thigh, "don't stop thinking about it."

My fingers trembled as I reached the seam of her panties and followed their arc, knowing where it would lead. I let myself go there because it no longer mattered, I'd already gone too far and there was no going back. I let myself go there because a part of me knew she wanted me to.

I felt my breathing quicken as I reached the soft, warm crotch of her panties, feeling the tiny bristles of her little patch of hair beneath my fingers. Her body shuddered as my middle finger pressed against her clit.

With my free hand I found her waist and pulled her close, letting her know just how hard her words had gotten me. My hips found the rhythm of the bass, the music flooding in and around us, and I ground against her, pulling her tighter, forcing her hips to join mine. Our bodies swayed together, hot and damp with sweat, two connected pieces, and my fingers moved between her legs, softly stroking. Marissa's head lolled back against my chest, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and I pressed my mouth to hers.