Better Late Than Never Ch. 2bySalteena©
“Nice pad Sis…very nice, and quite a feminine feel to it…”
It was six months after E.’s visit home. I was in Auckland at her invitation to go and stay for a few days in her flat after going to the Mystery Creek Agricultural Show, near Hamilton. There had been no repeat of our intimacy in the rest of her stay in the country. Although she did cause our mother to purse her lips in disapproval one evening by throwing her arms around me and giving me a big hug before I left the big house for my cottage for the night.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, sweet brother, I am a girl…”
“Ah! Is that why your voice is higher than mine is…!”
“Dork! Here, this is where you’ll sleep…”
The room was small and plainly decorated with most of the floor space taken up by a single bed. One wall was a built-in wardrobe with full-length mirror doors.
E. saw me looking, “My room is on the other side of there…”
I thought that that was good. At least there would be some sound insulation if she and Justin decided to do some ‘swinging off the chandeliers’ during the night.
She took hold of my hand, “Come on…I’ll show you around the rest of the flat.”
There wasn’t a lot to see. Her room, about two-and-a-half times the size of mine, dominated by a double bed with a large incongruously pink teddy bear resting its head on a pillow; another mirror-doored clothes closet; tidy; no scattered clothes; womanly scents. The bathroom small, functional, just a shower and hand basin with the toilet hidden behind a sliding door. Open plan kitchen-dining-living room. You have to love the person you are sharing the working area with, because there isn’t a lot of it. The dining and living room furniture expensively modern, but soft edged and comfortable. Flat screen TV on one wall. Small laundry, washer and drier. The postage-stamp patio, with gas BBQ in one corner, faces north over the Mt Eden suburbs to the Waitakeres.
It was my sister’s space and she showed her pride in it.
“Ummmm, am I allowed to observe…?”
“Yeah, it’s tiny…not like the farmhouse at home…”
“No, not that…I like it…I see only one toothbrush…no razor, dirty socks or underpants…”
“We broke up four months ago…had a terrible row about implants and had been fencing with each other over a couple of other things for some time. Another thing, it offended his macho self-image that I am the owner here. He wanted me to sell up and put the money into a joint property with him, but I said ‘No way!’”
“I cried myself to sleep for a week and then decided it was time to stop playing the maudlin teenager…”
“Got a replacement in view?”
“Someone does occupy my thoughts, but he is not free…”
“Tut, tut! Married man, eh?”
“Hopelessly…look, what do you want to do this evening? How about we go down to the village and get some steaks and a bottle of Cabernet? You can do the caveman thing and burn the meat while I make some salad.”
“Sounds great to me…”
The ‘bottle of Cabernet’ ended up an Auckland-priced Martinborough Vineyards Pinot Noir, which was delicious, as were the steaks. The salads weren’t bad either, although my sister insisted that the comparative excellence of the meat and the salads was the other way around. We finished the wine sitting companionably on the settee listening to a Cassandra Wilson CD played on the Bose Lifestyle hi-fi system that was so small I hadn’t noticed it in my earlier tour. Somehow we ended up with her laid out with her head in my lap and me stroking her hair.
You don’t know how hearts burn for love that cannot live yet never dies until you reached each dawn with sleepless nights you don't know what love is.
“Why don’t you come home, kiddo?” I asked. “We sure would love to see you more.”
“Same answer as Justin got…no way! This is my world, my life…”
She sat up abruptly, “You don’t realise just how good I am at what I do, my brother…just because I drive my own Honda Civic and live in a pokey little place like this! I’m not just a grunt; I run the QA Department, here and in Australia! I earn six figures starting with a 2, which is over four times what you get paid, even if you are General Manager. And I am part of the top management team…”
“Ok, ok! I get the picture!” I kissed her forehead, “No wonder Justin felt intimidated…”
E. thumped her head down in my lap again, only just missing out on damaging me for life, “He wasn’t intimidated, he wanted to be the typical Polynesian male and take charge of the spoils!”
“Aha! The picture gets clearer…anyway, this flat isn’t pokey…I like it, I feel comfortable here…”
“Then you’ll have to come and see me more often…” She yawned, “I’ll give you a job as General Manager Hair-stroking…”
“I accept with gratitude…”
“So you should…”
She fell asleep, but woke again the instant the CD finished, “C’mon, mister, bedtime! You farmers think you start early, but I have to be at work by 6.00am to take calls from Europe and The States…”
“The price of power, my love…oh, if you hear the telephone during the night, it’s more of the same…some of the idiots over there can’t tell the time…”
Outside my bedroom door, she put her arms around me and snuggled up close, “I’m so glad you came,” she murmured into my chest.
She felt so good tucked in there! “Not half as glad as I am,” I told her, kissing the top of her head.
“See you in the morning, bro…” She hugged up closer, almost as if she was trying to climb inside me.
“Sleep tight, sis…”
Wordlessly, she banged her head gently on my chest, then disengaged herself and headed for her room.
About ten minutes later, E. opened my bedroom door without knocking. She was wearing silk pyjamas that clung to every curve and line of her body. Her diminutive breasts made hard points in the fine fabric.
“I’m finished with the bathroom…Cooooer, nice package!” she exclaimed when she saw me stood there clad in my Underdaks and nothing else.
“Not so dusty yerself…” I murmured, looking her up and down with equal appreciation.
“I also came to tell you that you’re on tea duty in the ayem…and just one toast please…”
She didn’t seem to be able to tear her eyes away from my lower body and the stirring, swelling bulge in my underpants.
“Slice of lemon and no sugar…?”
“Huh…? Oh yes, that’s right…there’s Olivio…olive oil spread in the ‘fridge’ for the toast…”
Time seemed to stretch. I ached to take her in my arms again. Then her mobile shrilled ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’ and the moment was gone.
“See what I mean,” she said wryly.
When I came out of the bathroom and returned to my room, E. was still sat at the dining table, talking technical gibberish and scribbling on a large notepad. It was a further twenty minutes before I heard her close her bedroom door.
There were two more calls before I rose at 5 o’clock, pretty much my normal time, and made Her Ladyship a mug of tea and one toast as ordered. Tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed, E. tossed the edge of her duvet to one side and stretched luxuriously. The top and bottoms of her pyjamas had parted company in the night and now she was making the situation worse, confronting me with an expanse of bare flesh that started just below her breasts and ended just above her pubic hair. My hand shook as I put the mug down on her bedside cabinet, spilling some of the tea on the carpet.
“Do you always sleep in just your underpants?” she asked, interestedly eyeing the growing prominence inside my underwear.
“Only when I sleep alone…”
“Hmmmm…I think we shall have to make you into a eunuch. I can’t have the servants coming in here in the mornings and getting me all flustered…”
“Not to mention the servants getting all flustered as well. But, to quote a near and dear relative of mine…’no way!’ I like me just as I am.”
I sat on the end of E.’s bed as far away from her as possible. If I hadn’t have done, my man would have poked his head up over the waistband of my Underdaks and said “Good morning” to her.
She sat up, resting her back against the padded headboard and, thankfully, covering some of her nudity. “What do you want to do this evening?” she asked, nibbling at the corner of her toast.
“I’m a visitor to your city…I have no idea what is on…”
“Weeeell, there is a lot more happening here than there is in Palmy! I tell you what though, there is a Hugh Grant movie on that I don’t want to miss. It’s due to finish its run any day now…”
“You’re a fan…?”
“His diffident charm reminds me of a certain brother of mine when he sets out to be super nice to someone…”
“And he’s got a Guid Scawttish name…”
“That as well…how about it?”
“It’s on at the Berkley over in Mission Bay, can you find your way?”
“Right…about seven…and we’ll have a meal afterwards, there’s lots of good restaurants nearby…”
“Now, get out of here and let a lady get ready for work…and thanks for the tea…I’ll keep you on…”
“Madam is too kind…”
We were lucky to get in; the cinema was packed out. The only seats we could score were up against the wall on the right hand side, halfway down the auditorium. My sister took the seat next to the wall. It wasn’t a bad movie. Hugh Grant did a reasonable impression of Hugh Grant, and there were laughs and love scenes - the usual stuff. About half way through I put my arm along the back of E.’s seat and stroked her bare arm with the tips of my fingers. She had changed out of her ‘power dressing’ management gear before leaving work and was wearing a loose, sleeveless cotton shirt over a microscopic mini that caused a few wrenched male necks as we walked along the sidewalk to the movie house entrance. My sister has fabulous long legs!
She lifted her hand to scratch her head and my fingers slipped under her arm to encounter the soft warm skin below her armpit. The loose shirt was very loose. E. jumped a little when my fingers first found her; then she settled down again, not attempting to get me to shift my hand.
I stroked her gently. For me, Hugh Grant and his antics disappeared into mere background noise. My entire being became focussed on the feel of Her. My fingertips found the side of her breast. She was not wearing a bra. Her breasts are so small she can easily get away with not wearing support, and usually does so, only wearing bras, custom made ones because of her lack of inches, to maintain managerial decorum at work. And to placate our straight-laced mother at home! E. shivered and I sensed the goosebumps rising on her arms.
I cupped the underside of her breast in my fingers. She moaned softly under her breath. It was like holding a fledgling baby bird. I could feel E.’s heart fluttering in her chest. I clasped her bullet-hard nipple between my index and middle fingers and tweaked it lightly.
My sister was not exaggerating when she told me back at the farm that touching her breasts in the right way made her ‘go off like a firecracker’. She barely suppressed the strangled wail that burst from within her and our whole row of seats shook with the force of her orgasm. She also kicked the back of the seat in front of her violently, causing much stirring and muttering from all around us.
“Shhhhhh…!” The middle-aged woman sitting next to me turned and glared at us malevolently.
“I leaned my head towards her and whispered, “Sorry! My sister forgot to take her pill…”
“What do you mean?” she whispered back.
“She gets very anxious in crowded places, which sometimes brings on a minor epileptic fit. She has pills to stop it happening, but she forgot. She’ll be Ok now though, she only has one episode usually…”
“Is that why you have your arm around her?”
“To make her feel more secure, yes…and to stop her hurting herself.”
“Poor girl…such a lovely looking one too. She’s lucky to have a brother like you to look after her…”
I released my grip on E.’s nipple, causing her to ‘go off’ again and making a ‘one episode’ liar out of me. But this time the ‘cause’ was rapidly relayed in whispers, along our row at least.
At the end of the film, we all stood as the lights went up and the credits started rolling. The ‘dragon’ next to me, now turned into a kindly, twinkle-eyed woman, took E.’s hand and patted it in a motherly way, “Now, don’t you forget your medicine next time, young lady…”
“What was all that about?” my sister asked when the woman had turned and walked away.
“I told her that you are a nutter who can’t stand crowds and has epileptic fits…”
“Bastard!” she hissed, short-arm jabbing me in the gut with her fist and knocking the wind out of me. “I’ll get you back for that!”
“Can I buy you dinner instead?” I gasped in my best, charming, Hugh Grant manner.
“Very well then…but be warned, orgasms give me an appetite!”
E. wasn’t joking! At a restaurant called Portofino, I watched in bemused amazement while she shovelled down two entrees, a gigantic main course with vegetables, and a salad on the side. Following that, she dragged me a short way along the street to ‘Death By Chocolate’ and consumed a mountainous dessert. Afterwards, she kissed me softly on the cheek and thanked me…’for everything’.
“Come on,” she grabbed hold of my hand after I settled the bill, “it’s too early to go home yet, let’s walk!”
I looked at my watch. It was after 11.30, on a weeknight too, but the whole of Mission Bay was humming. ‘You’ll be like death at 5.00am!’ I thought to myself, but shrugged mentally and said nothing. E. was happy, perhaps happier than she had been for months, and I wasn’t about to be a Jeremiah.
To the two and a half million Kiwis who don’t live in Auckland, it is a prick of a place. Overcrowded and gobbling up good farming land at a frightening speed with its maniacal expansion; crime-ridden; polluted and with nightmare traffic, Auckland is universally despised, and grudgingly envied for its wealth and power. But on a balmy late autumn night, clasping his sister by the hand as we strolled along, this ‘Other New Zealander’ thought the place was pure magic!
We made our way towards Kohimarama and St Heliers Bay, not saying much, just enjoying each other, the sound of the sea and the twinkling North Shore lights from across the harbour. Just after we passed the Tamaki Yacht Club at Kohi, E. took it into her head to revert to childhood behaviours and walk along the top of the metre-high wall that separates the sidewalk from the sea. No problem! Although the surface is very uneven, she only tripped in the dark and nearly fell into the waves four times in all. I just walked alongside her, mentally apologising to all the other strollers for the mental retard I was with.
“Would you come after me if I fell in?”
“In your dreams!”
“But, you’re happy to have me up here so that you can look up my skirt at my knickers!”
“I am not!”
“Oh yes you are! I’ve seen you hunching down so that you can see!”
“Bullsdust! I’m not even interested!” This was an out-and-out lie. No red-blooded male could possibly be uninterested in those gorgeous legs just inches from his shoulder, and what lay hidden between them at their apex.
“Oh yes you are…!” She tripped and almost went over the edge for the fourth time. This time I did get a flash of white covered backside as she wavered on one leg, trying to regain her balance. I caught her wrist and steadied her.
“Ok, you win, kiddo, I confess…I have been trying to look up your skirt for ages! But dammit to hell, either you’re not tall enough or I am not short enough, and I haven’t been able to see a thing…”
“Ohhh! Poor Richie! How about this?”
E.’s white panties picked out in the headlights of passing cars as she faced me and raised her skirt up high drew forth a chorus of tooting car horns. Plus a sudden screech of brakes as the driver of a Ford Escort slowed too quickly and almost had a Nissan FWD climb up his tailpipe. I simply stared at her, dumbstruck by this crazy woman. Then just for good measure, she spun around, bent over and flipped her skirt up at the back. More traffic chaos ensued, which galvanised me into action, grabbing her around the waist and bringing her down to ground level before she caused a serious accident. Laughing like a loon, E. spun in my grasp, threw her arms around my neck and planted a huge kiss on my mouth.
Before I knew it, I was responding, The whole of Auckland disappeared. Rangitoto, the sleeping young volcano out in the harbour that will one day explode and wipe half the city off the map, could have done its thing there and then, and we wouldn’t have noticed. Don’t ask me how long that kiss lasted; I have no idea. All I remember clearly is that when we finally broke apart, E. gazed into my face earnestly and murmured, “I’ve taken time off for the rest of your stay. I want to go home now.”
We were in two cars. Of course, E. knew the way off by heart and drove like a maniac because she was in a hurry. Of course I got caught by a set of traffic signals and lost sight of her. Of course I took a wrong turning and ended up most of the way to the airport before I realised my mistake. And of course, after a further confusing series of wrong turns, nearly an hour later when I let myself into the flat with the key she had given me, the whole place was in darkness. Quietly, so as not to disturb her, I went to the bathroom to take a leak and clean my teeth, and then crept to my room.
I was just about to climb into bed when she opened the door behind me. She had on her silk pyjama top, which covered her down below her hips and underneath that, just her panties. She was simply breathtaking! My manhood swelled erect in my underpants, seeking her.
“I was wondering if you’d headed off to K-Road…”
“You lost me and then I lost me even more…”
She came up close to me. I took hold of the silk material just above the top button and rubbed it between my finger and thumb while we searched each other’s eyes for decisions. I could feel the glow of her body on my knuckles.
“I wish you weren’t so married to those damned farms,” she sighed. Then my sister took hold of my wrist and led me to her room.
“Undress me Richie…”
Propped up on one elbow beside her, I watched my fingers undo the buttons on her pyjama top. I finally parted the material and revealed her perfect little breasts.
“You really like them, don’t you…I can see it in your face…”
“They are beautiful!” I breathed. “You are beautiful!”
E.’s breasts really are, diminutive, rounded, tip-tilted perfection. Any pubescent young teenager would be inordinately proud of them. My sister’s breasts just have not developed much beyond that stage.
“May I kiss them?”
“Please…but be very careful, you know how sensitive I am…I love it, but I don’t want it to happen like that again tonight.”
Although I was extra careful, E. came so close so quickly, she had to push me away. But before she did, her nipples swelled like ripe plums in my mouth.
“Go down on me, Richie…please…you were so wonderful last time…”
By the time I had kissed my way down past her navel to her pubic tuft, my sister already had her panties halfway down her legs. I helped her take them right off, then plunged between her spread thighs; drinking her juices; revelling in her musk; teasing her clitoris with my tongue and exploring every millimetre of her, even into the sharp-tasting crack of her buttocks. Writhing fingers grasped and tangled in the undersheet. Soft pleasure sighs, sharp intakes of breath and liquid noises were the only sounds to break the nighttime silence. Seven times, taut as a violin string, she stopped me when she was right on the edge and seven times I aroused her again. The last time, she almost lost it, but pulled me away just in time.
“Richie,” she gasped, “do you think we could possibly make believe…?”
In our hearts, I took my sister’s virginity and she wept tears of joy. It was my ‘first time’ as well, just as it would have been years before. And we climaxed together…utterly lost in each other…better late than never.