Bro and Sis Homestay Guests

Jane slipped me a funny look.

Chloe then excused herself to go to the washroom. I looked at Jane. My somewhat conservative sis.

I asked: "Do you get the sense that Chloe is obliquely requesting our permission for Cole and her to range nude in our penthouse?"

Jane replied: "Sounds like it."

I said: "This would certainly make their homestay experience whole and satisfying. I'm OK to tell her to go for it. Would you be cool with it?

Jane replied: "I'm cool. They're decent folks. They just want to have a memorable holiday. And again, one of our aims of our homestay business is to meet interesting people from all over, and live experiences, wherever they may range".

I applauded: "Very noble!"

Jane smacked my chin in mock displeasure, and said: "Yes, I'll admit that there is a certain undercurrent of tingling charm in this."

I said: "It'll be a 'treat' for you, he he!"

Jane countered: "Hmmm... I have seen you checking out Chloe furtively."

Just then, Chloe rejoined us. I told Chloe that Jane and I should be the ones to apologize for barging into the patio unannounced. I added that we were cool with Cole and her living the nudist lifestyle in the penthouse, if that was what they wanted. It just didn't make sense that they had to slip on and off clothing each time they moved in and out of their bedroom. They could enjoy the sun in the patio and the pool.

Chloe beamed. She asked: "Would this be awkward for you? You've been more than kind. Cole and I wouldn't want to impose on you both."

And then turning to Jane, she asked: "Cole is still adjusting to this new freedom, if you know what I mean. He will have his moments of... hmmm... bodily exuberance. Do you mind?"

I looked interestedly at Jane's reaction. This was an implementation detail in the plan that had eluded Jane's consideration earlier.

Jane appeared mildly flustered momentarily, and then recovered. "Well, it will be a new experience for John and I. If John can survive this, so can I. One of our aims of running a homestay is to broaden our lived experience by sharing experiences with our guests. This is one such biodiversity opportunity."

Hmmm... women are so adept at reframing matters to their convenience.

I teased Jane: "Sharing experiences...? Do you mean we..."

Jane punched my arm in mock mortification. All three of us broke into good natured laughter. That was the seismic ice-breaking moment.

I said: "So, Chloe, feel free to start anytime tomorrow."

Jane teased: "My, my, isn't he an eager beaver!"

More infectious laughter.

DAY SIX

Jane and I were enjoying our morning espresso fix in the patio when Cole and Chloe emerged from their bedroom and joined us, in their full glory, with tea cups in hand. There was no awkwardness.

Chloe carried a mature demeanor on her five feet four inches form. She was degrees shy of buxom. Chloe had her obligatory share of flabs and sags of her age. Medium pendulous breasts. A sprinkle dusting of freckles on upper chest accentuated her cleavage. Softly contoured rump, prominent, but short of provocative. Soft rise of tummy. An artful delicate caesarean section cut filament line just above her mound. Legs flared into wide hips. Rubenesque.

Somewhat incongruently, where I had expected to see a lurid flowering of petals at her lady part, her silken mons pubis was a minimalist dainty gash that started low on her mound. A smooth impish hint cleft with no inner lips protruding. If you gazed at her from a distance, you are apt to wonder where her vagina slit is.

A curious confluence abstraction of buxom and nubile, of pubescent and mature. It all came together earthily into a sensual womanly whole that was alluring. Easy to identify, but hard to define precisely.

Cole had his rightful legacy allocation of mellowed contours. He was scrupulously shaven, matching his sister. His uncircumcised penis was above average in length, but by not much. His girth was decent sized, but not fat in a crass lewd way. His penis pointed down obliquely. He had one of those penises where it was difficult to tell whether it was semi-erect, or it was in its normal state. It exuded a kind of silent persistent soft power that could be called to action at short notice. And when he moved, his penis did not sway. It maintained a kind of statuesque dignity.

I looked at Jane. This detail was not lost on her. Her eyes lingered on Cole in a swirl of curiosity and awe.

The spell broke when they sat down, partially obscured by the table-top. We chatted breezily as a casual Starbucks coffee party would. And that new dawn on the patio marked the start of a new chapter in the homestay.

DAY SEVEN AND EIGHT

We got comfortable with the new dynamics. The initial frisson simmered down to a pleasant equilibrium of humming sensual tranquility. Jane and I were at ease facing off Cole and Chloe, whether they were chilling on the patio lounger, or luxuriating on the lounge couch when we were watching TV.

Cole in his most exuberant state of flourish, notwithstanding his statuesque penis, was still within socially correct bounds, and on a few isolated occasions, only just so. How Cole managed this was a commendable feat in itself, being a relative newbie in the game, in the sublime company of a voluptuous naked woman, even if that was his sister, and a pair of well-turned legs.

DAY NINE

We were watching a late movie in the lounge. We were buoyed by good wine. As we had the patio door open, it was getting a tad chilly. It was OK for Jane and I because we were clothed. I asked Chloe and Cole if they were OK since they were in a state of nature. Cole said he was fine. Chloe said it was indeed a wee draughty, but it was still OK. Curiously, Chloe scooted over to her brother. She sat in front of him, pausing momentarily, as if giving him notice of her next move. She then lazed in front of him like he was a lounge chair, and then made some fine bodily adjustments. Brother and sister molded into a unified whole. Brother wrapped his arms around his sister's waist as if he was buckling her down in a seatbelt. He tightened his arms momentarily, and then relaxed them as if she was now secured.

Chloe cooed: "Thanks Cole, lovely..."

Cole then placed his right hand just above his sister's mound. His forefinger doodled on her silken skin in an algorithmic motion.

Jane turned to look at me with quivering arched eyebrows. I winked. I couldn't resist the tingle of the moment.

I teased: "Jane, are you warm and comfy?"

Jane glared at me with vengeance, and then grinned.

I went to the washroom. On my way, I dimmed the lounge lights. When I returned, I sidled next to Jane.

Muffled mewing noises emanated from the direction of Cole's and Chloe's couch. Light rustling movements.

Jane flashed me a questioning look. I shrugged.

Jane went to fetch some beers. When she returned, she lazed along the length of the couch. She rested her head on my lap. She had changed into a nude-colored camisole. A sheer brief number. I gazed down the length of her body. I had never seen my sister in anything less than a one-piece sensible swimsuit. This was a revelation. It was evident that Jane was braless. Jane had modest breasts. An outline soft rise of arc like that of a budding pubescent teen that promised bloom in the fullness of time.

I could see the top of her breasts. Her nipples were obscured by a crease in the camisole. My eyes drifted south. I could not be sure if she had panties on. Her hand rested gingerly on her crotch, as if restraining her restive hemline from drifting.

I was aroused by this intimacy. And by Chloe's and Cole's sensual allusions. I stiffened. Jane looked up. Our eyes locked momentarily. A muted bonding moment, although I didn't know of what. I brushed Jane's cheek. She returned her eyes to the TV screen. In the sedate quieter sequences of the movie, my hand stroked Jane's hair in a musical motion.

The movie ended. It was 1am. We were all heavy-eyed.

Jane and I watched Cole and Chloe with interest as they disentangled. Cole was in flourish. His shaft glistened in the soft light. Chloe's mound had a moist sheen. Was that a musty smell in the air? They said their goodnights and ambled to their room.

Jane and I got up. At my room door, she surprised me. She touched my hand and whispered. "Little sis needs to be cuddled to sleep tonight".

In the darkness of her room, I crashed on her bed. Jane cuddled up. Shortly, we drifted into transcendental slumber.

I dreamt I was sitting on a couch. A buxom luscious woman was sitting on my penis, facing away from me. I was thrusting her with strong deep strokes. In the midst of our passionate lovemaking, the woman turned to face me. It was Jane. I looked down at her body. It was as I had feared. Lissom. Supple. It was at that moment of agonizing rapture that I came. The woman flashed a wicked smirk.

DAY TEN

A cloud of dissonance. This was not my room. Then, I pleasantly remembered cuddling up with Jane. And vivid fragments of my dream.

The penthouse was empty. Jane was on her 5 kilometer dawn run. Cole and Chloe must be at the beach, or somewhere.

I had my espresso fix at the patio.

The day passed uneventfully. Jane chose not to discuss the events of the night before. I was happy to leave it at that. Alcohol. Palpable frisson instigated by Cole and Chloe. The late hour. Sleepiness. A perfect storm. We did what we did under the conspiring influence of these forces.

I caught up on some writing work that night in my room. And then hit the sack.

DAY ELEVEN

My cellphone chimed. It read 2am. A message from Jane. Hmmm... my girl next door. The one I grew up with. She wants to be cuddled to sleep again?

It read: Come over, this may interest you...

Jane's room was dark, save for a nightlight. She was seated at one end of her bay window cushioned lounging platform.

The bay window overlooked the patio, and beyond, the overhang of infinity pool. The window was coated with a film that permitted one-way vision from the room to the outside.

Jane was in her camisole. The same nude-colored short and sheer number. She sat with her right leg on the floor. Her left leg was on the seat, foot tucked beneath her right thigh. Her hemline dipped just below her crotch, deliciously only just so.

I couldn't make out if Jane wore undergarments. In the soft illumination of the sepia hued optics, Jane appeared naked.

I flopped beside Jane. I followed her intense gaze to the far corner of the pool. A submerged pool light illuminated the corner. A watery beacon in the night.

Cole sat languidly at the corner. Legs apart. His head was tossed back over the edge, precariously, in a kind of writhing agonized bliss. Chloe's head was bobbing in a harmonic motion at his crotch. The tantalizing pear outline of Chloe's torso was riveted down by her prominent sacral dimples.

Me: How long have they been at this?

Jane: I was closing my internet online trading to call it a night, when I heard light splashing noises. They were cuddling in the pool. Stargazing. I messaged you when Cole clambered onto the far corner ledge, and Chloe homed in on him, starting her ministrations.

Me: Hmmm... quite a show!

Jane: Do you think it is right that we should be watching this? Are we violating our guests' privacy?

Me (rationalizing): Hmmm... They could have done this in the privacy of their room. But, they chose to do this under moonlight, knowing that your window overlooks the pool. I don't know... Maybe there are some exhibitionist undercurrents simmering here? The clammy tangle intimacy on the couch the other night is a case in point. I am not going to agonize over this.

Jane nestled close to me in a sort of tacit agreement.

Me: Let's be good voyeurs. We do the needful, and enjoy this.

Jane (the freemarket investor): A freemarket of rational willing exhibitionists and willing voyeurs, he he!

Me: Let us swap positions. I know a position where we will both be comfy, as we view this spectacle.

I sat and leaned against the side of the bay window. I guided Jane to sit in front of me. I nudged her to recline on me. As if I was a lounger.

Jane (cheekily): Hmmm... I know this assemblage...

Chloe went through cycles of rapidfire oral pistoning ministrations, and then measured slo-mo. Her motor mouth was throttling her brother at whim. Cole was helpless pulp. Dramatic as this appeared, it seemed like a torturous rhythm that they were not altogether unattuned to.

Jane (squirming against me): Oh God! Chloe is merciless! And Cole is on the cusp of rapture.

And just when it looked like Cole was about to shoot the stars, Chloe stopped dead by some telepathic signal.

There was a flurry of body movement marked by soft lapping of water. Cole remained in his sitting position. Chloe hovered her buttocks over his crotch without contact. Brother and sister were facing us, but they couldn't see us because of our one-way window. We could see them clearly, courtesy of the underwater pool light which projected upwards. It was as if we were watching a compelling stage act, spotlight trained on the principal actors. Dreamlike, bordering on freakish.

For the first time tonight, we could see Cole's penis. Cole was true to form. His shaft remained its usual length, but now apparently more regally rigid. Even then, it pointed a taut forty-five, and not the custom true north ninety degrees.

Cole slithered his bulbous head along Chloe's pubescent gash, back and forth, in dramatic rapid, then slow cycles, returning his sister's earlier favor. This time, the tables were turned. His sister was vulnerable whimpering shuddering pulp before him.

Jane (hesitatingly): You know, I don't have alot of experience in these matters... Cole doesn't look very different from his normal to aroused state. And yet, his charge is palpable. This is personal. Tell me, are you like that?

Me: No. The opposite. From a weeny, worthy of a pubescent teen, to quite something else.

Jane: Hmmm... I struggle to imagine my big bro of 5 feet 10 inches, hulking over me, sporting a weeny. But, I will take your modest word for it.

Me: And since we are on this subject, Chloe's shorn lady part could pass off as a pubescent teen. A mere gash. Tell me, are you like that?

Jane: Hmmm... We are traipsing into uncharted topography. Since you have answered my question, I guess I have to answer yours. I am not mown. I guess I don't need to. Naturally minimalist.

Me: And, and...

Jane: I am somewhat the opposite of Chloe, but not quite...

Me: Huh?

Jane (sheepishly): My outers are puffed up. My inners, stashed away, never having seen light of day. Imagine an elongated heart shape, split right down the middle. There! I said it. The most intimate description of me ever.

We refocused our attention on Cole and Chloe. Cole had stopped gliding his shaft head along Chloe's slit. He now redirected his mast head to the top of his sister's slit, grinding this nether spot, again in alternating slow and tormenting rapid cycles. Chloe quivered, then shuddered into tremor.

Brother and sister cuddled as Chloe climbed down from her climax.

Chloe crept up, catlike, on the watery ledge. For a lush woman, she looked surprisingly supple. Cole positioned behind her rump. His hands cupped, then kneaded her pliant breasts. In an instant, Cole broke her hermetic seal.

Curiously, Cole froze. Chloe started shunting her rump back and forth, again in alternate bruising rapid, and tantalizing slow cycles. This seemed to be the tacitly agreed pattern, for every position of engagement.

The scene played out before Jane's and my eyes was surreal, to say the least. The side view of a brother and sister in passionate doggy engagement, illuminated by an upward spotlight that bore on their epicenter of coitus, water sloshing around their knees, on an overhang of edge, juxtaposed against a backlit screen of moonlit night sky.

And then in an apparent change of play script, Chloe froze. Cole took over. Again in alternating fast and slow thrust cycles. A sensually choreographed division of sibling labor.

Cole was building up to a peak. His thrusts became wild and forceful, bordering on savagery, as he emitted a spiel of guttural noises. An ascendant Chloe was mewing in a musical kittenspeak which spoke of urgency.

Brother and sister climaxed in harmony and in unison. The sibling tangled mass collapsed, and slipped off the watery ledge, thankfully on the pool, and not the dark abyss side, in a dramatic splash symbolic of their rapturous landing. They surfaced, and hugged each other in hot embrace.

Me: This is so hot!

Jane pulled me nervously to her futon bed. I laid on the bed. Jane stood before me, conflicted look on face, in her nominal camisole. She stood shyly in a demure knock-knee posture, her back to the bay window backlit night sky.

Jane (whispering): I want this is to be slow and memorable.

Me: You know, I won't have it any other way.

Jane: I don't think you are quite getting me...

Me: I'm not?

Jane: You see, you get the privilege to cherry pick tonight.

Me: What? You mean...

Jane placed her finger on my lips to

shush me. The unstated massive significance of the journey which we were about to embark on dawned on me. Once started, there would be no turning back. The journey would redefine who we were, to ourselves, and to each other. I was conflicted.

Me: Are you sure about this?

Jane: Is there anything more sure than a brother and a sister?

Me: You know, we can get comfortable, cuddle up, bond, and get to know each other better...

Jane pirouetted like a ballerina. Her hemline billowed to a peek-a-boo dance. I spied enticing glimpses of her lady part, and her buttocks.

Her genitals were as she had described earlier. Piquant heart of puffed pussy.

Her behind, firm and pert. Each buttock conspicuously separated. Each cheek defined. The kind one would expect on a limber athletic woman.

Long, slender, supple legs.

Jane spun down from her twirl. She crouched next to me. She peeled my boxers off. I was naked.

Jane (coyly): Now, let us have a look at that weeny you described so vividly.

Jane saw my raging erection.

Jane (mischievously): Hmmm... If this is the weeny, it petrifies me to think of the monstrosity it will become!

Me: You are a wee too late for the weeny show.

Jane: You are bigger than Cole. You are only the second manhood I have seen.

I lifted Jane's camisole. A vision of loveliness. Pretty face. Soft arc of pubescent breasts. Dainty puffed pussy. Cute ass. Killer legs. The antithesis to Chloe.

Me: Pirouette again.

Jane did just that. And more. Executed a perfect ballerina arabesque position. Stood on one leg. En pointe. The other leg turned out, extended behind her body. Both legs held straight in ninety degrees. Her slit gaped deliciously ever so slightly.

I whistled. Jane was pleased. We cuddled on the futon, enjoying our mutual warmth, and processing, unpacking the bridge too far, over the Rubicon, that we would be crossing.

As if she had made up her mind, Jane sat up cross-legged with her knees resting, one on my thigh, the other against the side of my chest. Her willowy nakedness was on full display. Soft arc of breasts. Thighs silky and sleek in the nightlight. Her wisps of pubic hair close enough to inspect, to see the few little droplets of moisture in it. I can smell her sex.

She didn't grab me. Not at first. She ran her fingernails experimentally up and down my penis slowly, softly. Her first touch. Then again. On one side. Then the other. She traced an imaginary axis line up to the bulbous head.

Jane: Your are pleasing to the eye, big bro.

She examined me closely. She bent down to look. She touched it.