Annie's Awakening

I still wore my short nightie and Mark his boxer shorts; we weren't as comfortable being naked together as we are now, but we snuggled under the duvet, my bottom in my brother's groin, his head above mine propped on a cushion.

This time however, instead of stroking my side, Mark's hand made a bee line for my breast. Having brought its nipple to erection through my night dress, his hand plunged between my thighs once again, fingering me with an urgency that was entirely new.

Taken aback, I could do nothing but let him have his way; in truth I wanted nothing other than this, though the pace of his progression was bewildering. Within minutes I was trembling with my first climax and the pungent fishy smell of a girl's vaginal juices in full flow filled the air.

From there on, things get a little hazy.

Mark had made me so aroused with his fingers that I offered almost no resistance when he made it plain that he wanted to go much further. And even that small hesitation was nerves rather than reluctance; I had no idea what I was supposed to do and didn't want to make a fool of myself.

I needn't have worried; Mark took complete control, rolling me onto my back, mounting me gently and manoeuvring the head of his erect cock between my already tingling outer lips. I gasped, staring up into his handsome face as for the first time in my life, I felt a real male penis working its way up and down my slit, seeking my as yet unpenetrated entrance.

It took half a dozen tentative thrusts before he found the right place and the right angle, and his smooth head actually began to enter me. My body went stiff, my legs closed on his as if to keep him out, but there was no conviction in my efforts, and he was far too determined to be put off by them.

Mark's shaft felt simply huge as it began its jerky, back and forth journey into my body. I froze with nerves which must have made his job much harder, but he persevered.

The astonishment of feeling my most intimate place being invaded for the first time was intense. The strange, alien sensation of being filled was beyond anything I had imagined, so bewildering and frightening that I didn't even think about my hymen until a short, sharp sting shot through my tender insides.

I whimpered aloud as the delicate membrane tried to resist his progress, then gasped in shock as a powerful thrust from my brothers hips drove the smooth rounded head of his cock through the last remnant of resistance my virginity had to offer, and deep into the tight, warm passage beyond.

Marks' cock felt simply huge as it entered; bigger than I had ever imagined a cock could be; filling me more completely than I had imagined in my sexiest dreams.

I froze again, my legs stiff, my eyes wide and fixed on my brother's face. But he was gentle and patient, and eventually, with many soft words and even more small, smooth strokes, his cock eventually worked its full length into my trembling body.

Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as for the first time in my life, I felt the weight of a boy's hips on mine, the incredible fullness of an entire erect penis deep in my vagina, and the helpless vulnerability of a girl impaled for the first time.

Mark looked down on me with a worried expression on his face.

"Does it hurt?" he asked in a whisper.

I nodded. "A little."

"Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head emphatically; I did not want him to stop.

"Okay, Annie. I'll try and be gentle."

I bit my lip again as, slowly and carefully, my brother started moving in and out of my over-tight, completely inexperienced vagina. I had expected and was prepared for pain when my body was penetrated for the first time, but the sensation of being repeatedly stuffed full then released was stranger than I had ever imagined, as was the extraordinary sensitivity of my tightly-stretched entrance as my brother's shaft was pulled through its grasping lips over and over again.

"Christ you're tight!" Mark croaked, his face only inches above mine, his hot breath on my cheek. "You feel absolutely amazing!"

Although the gasping thrill of my first vaginal orgasm was several weeks away, the warm feeling that his words of praise brought were at that vital moment, almost as good. I tried to smile but my expression must have appeared more stunned than content.

"Still okay?" he asked, slowing but not pausing in his thrusts.

My eyes fixed on his, I nodded again and was rewarded by the warmest, most adoring smile I had ever seen on my brother's face, followed by a sharp increase in both the speed and force of his thrusting. The discomfort rose sharply; not quite intense enough to be called pain but enough for me to know I needed it to end soon.

Fortunately, my unplanned tightness helped hasten the process. It can't have been more than a minute or two before Mark's thrusts became wild and erratic and his sweet, loving face began to contort.

For a moment I was truly frightened. I had never seen a boy reaching climax like this before and had no idea what effect it had on his body beyond the obvious ejaculation -- and right then even that impending event did not feature in my confused mind.

My first sight of a male climactic grimace and the pure, brutal, masculine energy being unleashed upon my helpless female body was terrifying.

If Mark's ejaculation and ecstatic release hadn't followed so quickly, it might have been enough to frighten me away from sex completely.

But follow it did. As my brother's semen began spurting deep into my body, the anger in his expression broke instantly and was almost immediately replaced by a look of relief and release. I could feel his cock throbbing deep inside me for what felt like ages as for the first time, my vagina and cervix felt the presence of lithe, active male sperm.

Mark's thrusts eventually slowed to a halt, and he held himself motionless above me, both of us panting, his still-firm cock held tightly by my newly awakened vagina. I could feel the throbbing and pulsing dying away as the last few drops of semen were pumped from his body into mine.

Then it was all over. After what we had just done, the stillness and silence were extraordinary.

As we looked into each other's eyes, I could feel his erection softening within me. My vagina closed around it as its hardness faded and I could feel our souls joining as intimately as our bodies

Part of me was flowing into Mark just as surely as his seed was flowing within me.

With a low sigh, he slowly drew his softening cock from my vagina. For a moment, the shock of its departure left me feeling abandoned and empty.

Then he took me in his arms, held me close, and whispered sweet nothings into my ear.

As he led me upstairs to bed, I couldn't stop the tears from coming again.

***

I'm not sure how long it was before Mark mounted my battered body once again, but I do know that the thought of resistance never entered my mind. My freshly deflowered vagina was already sore, but it didn't matter; as long as he wanted me, I wanted him.

This time as his body rose over mine, my legs parted instinctively, and I bit my lip as my brother's smooth rounded head worked its way into me once again. This time, he thrust into me for much longer, and in a much more controlled rhythm before reaching a second, passionate climax.

I could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing deep within me as another dose of semen was smeared over my young cervix.

As the night progressed and my body grew more accustomed to being penetrated, I did feel the first vague suggestions of the wonderful climactic delights that were to come but, like most girls, my first fuck was strange rather than satisfying; an experience rather than an exhilaration.

At no time did it even cross my mind that the pleasure and closeness we were enjoying was very, very wrong.

He made love to me once more before I finally fell asleep on him, exhausted.

***

I was woken very early the next morning by movement alongside me in my bed. I opened my eyes to see the sun trying to find its way through the curtains. Mark was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his face turned towards me, a look of love on his handsome face.

"I'd better go," he whispered. "Mum'll be back soon. Are you okay?"

Was I okay? How could I possibly know; I had never been in that position before? And what position was I in?

As the reality of what we had done dawned on me, a wave of fear, regret and self-disgust washed over me. I began to cry quietly, tears running down my cheeks.

"Annie! What's wrong?"

Mark's voice beside me was anxious and caring.

"It's nothing," I snuffled unconvincingly.

"It's definitely something," he whispered, taking me in his arms and cuddling me close. "No regrets I hope."

I could have asked him if he still respected me, using the corny, familiar words spoken by so many girls after their first experience of real sex. I could have told him I loved him madly, wanted to marry him and live my life with him -- which was and remains the truth.

But I didn't. In answer to his question, all I did was shake my head.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered into my hair, kissing me on the ear then the cheek.

"Don't leave me," I whispered. "Please!"

"I've got to clean up downstairs and go back to my room. Mum mustn't find anything suspicious..." he hissed.

"I don't want you to go," I pleaded, interrupting him.

"I don't want to go either," he smiled. "But the place smells of sex. We can't Mum know... at least not yet."

The feeling of disappointment was intense, but I knew he was right. However wonderful it had felt, Mum must not find out what we had just done.

We kissed slowly and deeply, tongues entwined, mouths pressed hard together. Then my sweet brother patted my cheek with his fingertips and stood beside my bed.

"I'll see you later," he smiled again.

"See you," I replied, trying not to let him know how desperate I was to hear those three magic words every freshly deflowered girl needs to hear.

To my eternal relief, Mark did not let me down. Instead he bent over and kissed me once on the forehead.

"I love you, Annie!"

The warm glow that came over me is one I will never forget.

***

It was too early to get up but going back to sleep was simply impossible. All I could do was lay on my back in bed as my head buzzed with emotion and confusion.

I don't know what usually goes through the mind of a girl who had just lost her virginity -- it can only be lost once after all. I suspect very few girls lose theirs to their older brothers, so all I can do is explain what went through my mind that morning.

In truth, explain might be too strong a word to describe all I can say about the muddled mix of emotions that fuddled my brain, and the powerful physical memories that did the same for my body.

For the first time in my life, a boy's erect penis had been inside my vagina. More than that, it had been thrust in and out of it many times and had ejaculated inside me at least three times.

I had made love; had had sex; had been fucked.

I was a virgin no longer.

If I'm completely honest, I experienced little in the way of sexual pleasure during my defloration, even when the initial pain had faded. I found out later there had been a little blood too which had stained the sheet and had to be explained away to Mum as my period beginning early.

What I had discovered was an entirely new feeling of closeness to another human being that went deeper than anything I had experienced or imagined. If I thought I loved my brother before, that love simply multiplied as our bodies tuned into one another and we became as close physically as we had always been emotionally.

I rolled over and watched the sun rising through the curtains.

My first time had happened!

Did all girls wonder or even dream how their first time would be, where it would take place and who it would be with? Most of my friends had already lost their cherries, but few had been in the warm, romantic circumstances in which mine had been eased from me.

Back seats of cars had featured frequently, as had the floors of bedrooms and in more than one case, the school's cricket pavilion. In several cases it had not been intended; the boy concerned had simply been very persuasive, very forceful or very lucky at the time.

This of course had led to tears and regrets afterwards, to the telling of grossly exaggerated stories and the establishment of unwanted reputations like poor Caroline Buckley's.

In contrast, my defloration had been in my own home, and had continued in my own room with a boy I had known all my life; someone I trusted completely and loved absolutely.

Yes, it was secret, it was certainly forbidden, it was not something that could safely be broadcast, but I did not believe it was fundamentally wicked.

I still genuinely believe this.

I did not however, escape the feelings of insecurity that all girls feel after giving themselves both physically and emotionally to a boy for the first time. Although I knew Mark would never kiss and tell -- the danger of exposure cut both ways - I was too emotionally vulnerable to escape the fear that now he had had his wicked way with me, his feelings would change.

Despite what he had just said, did he really mean it? In the cold light of day, would he still love me as much as I loved him? Had he ever loved me as much as I loved him? Had I given myself too readily? Did he now think me and easy lay or worse, a slut?

In my naivete, I had been surprised that Mark's semen had leaked from me in the night, gluing my pubic hair in knots and drying to a crust on my tummy and the inside of my thighs. As I scrubbed away the evidence of my defloration, I became acutely aware that my outer lips were sore too.

My heart was thumping and my stomach churned as I descended the stairs later that morning, showered and fully dressed, with my pink and puffy labia chafing against the gusset of my knickers.

As I approached the kitchen, I could hear music on the radio and voices as Mum and Mark went through the normal Saturday morning routine of coffee and brunch as if nothing had changed.

For me at least, something had changed and changed profoundly. I hoped and prayed that Mark felt the same, took a deep breath and entered the bright, familiar room feeling faint with anxiety, trying desperately to appear normal while deep inside, my world was spinning.

But I needn't have worried.

The look of what appeared to be adoration that my brother gave me the moment Mum's back was turned gave me hope. The way he took my fingers in his hand and quickly squeezed them as I passed behind him on my way to my usual place at the table made my heart melt. The way his feet played with mine under the table and his eyes sparkled as Mum fussed over her coffee and toast reassured me more.

But it was the way he kissed me as we brushed our teeth together in the bathroom afterwards, mouths open wide, tongues writing over each other that was finally proof enough.

***

For the next couple of days, I wore my considerable soreness like a trophy. I simply floated round the house in a dream world, my constant state of post-coital elation maintained by regular and increasingly intense physical encounters with the boy with whom I had become - and a year on, remain - helplessly in love.

More than once Mum asked me if anything was wrong.

Mark must have assumed I was on some form of birth control, but I was young, inexperienced, stupid and so swept off my feet by my first sexual relationship, that the idea simply did not occur to me. It wasn't until my period came a few days later, that I realised how lucky I had been.

An emergency trip to the sexual health nurse the next day got me secretly on the pill. I hid the packets inside the jewellery box on my dresser where Mum would never look. Embarrassed by my naivete, I have never told Mark how risky our first few weeks of sex really were.

Freed from the risk of pregnancy, and having frequent, real, penetrative sex, for the first time in my life, I began to feel like a real woman rather than the virgin schoolgirl I had so recently been.

I also began to understand what being in love really meant.

From the moment my brother's erect penis entered my body, I was lost. A few weeks later when that same penis induced in me the first real, vaginal orgasm of my life, I knew there could never be another boy for me.

Once that first climax had been achieved, our passion knew no bounds. We made love, had sex, fucked each other whenever we had the chance -- and living in the same house, those chances were frequent. When Mum was at work, after I came home from school and during the holidays, Mark and I spent literally hours in bed together, trying new things, telling each other what felt good and for me at least, falling deeper and deeper in love.

Now, a year on, we are still very much together and as I said, are about to celebrate our first anniversary. Mark wanted to take me out for romantic dinner but we're both short of cash so I'm going to cook him a meal at home when Mum goes out on her next date -- assuming her boyfriend's wife still hasn't found out about the two of them.

I don't know where things will go from here. I know where I want them to go, but is it possible?

Can a sister and brother really stay together all their lives?

Could we live together forever and have children like a normal couple? Right now, it's what I want most in the world.

I suppose it's early days and we're both still young. Maybe the lie we're telling Mum that's it's just a short-term experimental fling will turn out to be the truth.

I truly hope it doesn't.

Mark and I will both go to University in September, if my exam results are good enough. I'm dreading it. Sometimes even the thought of missing him keeps me awake and crying in the night. The thought of losing him completely is a road I daren't even start to go down.

Being sensible for a moment, the chances of any relationship that started so early on in a couple's life surviving three years of separation and temptation are slim. If we were schoolfriends who had started to sleep together, statistically we would have less than a one-in-four chance of remaining together throughout University, let alone our whole lives.

Or so Doctor Google says.

But Mark and I aren't merely schoolfriends. We never could be just friends. We are joined by much more than mere lust or affection.

We are the same blood and whatever happens between us from now on, will always be.