Bro and Sis Homestay Guests

Jane (matter-of-factly): And this. This is so hard.

Me (jocularly): What is this? Biology lab?

She paid me no mind. Took it all in for a moment. She squeezed my penis a little. Stroked it. Feeling all around.

Me: Do you mind if I ask if this is your first, up close and personal?

Jane: Yes. I want it to be a long first time.

Me: It will be our long night's journey into day.

Jane: I love the way the skin stretches as you grow. The way the head gets bigger and bigger. Those first little drops of excitement. And the way your balls tighten up.

She cupped them like treasured objects with one hand.

Jane: Then, they loosen again, hanging down and swinging. Then tightening up.

Me: I didn't know you can be so poetic. On the venerable subject of balls.

Jane deftly used a finger to move them back and forth, fondling them, just slightly swinging them as if they were bells. All in slow motion. No hurry. A studious look on her face.

She halted. She grasped my penis with her whole hand. Held it there. Felt its thickness and hardness. Squeezed it ever so slightly every few seconds.

It was driving me closer to the edge. But, I could tell she was just getting a sense of my physicality. My feeling was indescribable.

With her thumb and index finger, she encircled my penis. Grabbed it right below the head, ascertaining its circumference.

Jane: Marvelous. A work of art.

Me: Now, you are making fun of me.

Jane: No. No. It is so beautiful. A life all its own. You can will it, and yet, it has a stubborn persistent will force of its own. Kind of like our free will. We have it for all intents and purposes, and yet, do we really? It is so you, and yet, not you. Spasming. Swaying. A poetic beast. It takes my breath away to watch how fabulous your body is.

Me: All this philosophy. All this metaphysics. This side of you... You surprise me, for an investor trader with a killer instinct.

Jane: Well, this is a night of surprises...And discovery.

She touched the tip of my penis with her index finger, teasing more drops to seep out. She rolled her finger in the liquid. She lightly spread the moistness over the head of my penis. Coating it. She leaned over for a closer look. I loved watching her breasts with her every move. Her undulating arcs. Her nipples, hard and pointed. They, too, seemed to have a life of their own.

She held my erection straight up, at a ninety-degree angle to my stomach. She wrapped her fingers around it. She began stroking. Then, slowly pumping up and down. I am slippery from my own fluids, and am in such a state. She bent over closer, her face hovering above the head of my penis. A saliva drop. Her finger smoothed her saliva around the head. Not that I needed extra lubrication. She was just having fun.

She pumped more. Up and down. Then, with her hand firmly at my base, she held it there, my shaft sticking straight up, like some spire. My penis wavered a little, leaked even more, the drops dribbling down my shaft. This would not take long. More pumping. My body jerked. I groaned. She froze. Stared at it. I spurted straight up, a good two feet. Then, a second spurt, even higher, falling down and landing on her knee. One or two more followed, falling back on her hand.

Jane: My God! Amazing! Simply amazing.

Me: I am sorry I came so fast.

Jane: I am not. It is a testament to my skills.

Me: Are you sure you are a newbie in this?

Jane: Are you alluding that I am a slut?

Me: No. Just that you are a natural. Your initial wonder, and tentative experimental exploration, is telling that this is your first manhood in the flesh.

Jane: Do you think this is sick?

Me: Probably, by societal norms. That said, consensual sibling sex is not illegal in some countries. Spain, Portugal, Netherlands, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Russia.

Jane: Hmmm... you seem to have researched this. But, the law and societal norms don't necessarily always align. What is legal, or not illegal, may be frowned upon by society.

Me: That is quite true. But regardless, I liked it. I can't begin to tell you how much I liked it.

Jane: Me too. And regardless, no one else needs to know. This is just about us. This makes societal norms tangential, if not irrelevant.

Some moments passed. Again, she lightly touched my penis.

Jane: And now it retreats. Losing all its power. Quiesced. Getting soft and quiet.

She traced an imaginary line down, around my balls, then took my flaccidness in her hand, as if it is a valuable artifact. She seemed to be emotional now. Her eyes watered.

Jane: But, even now, it is still so beautiful. Such a marvelous mystery.

We sat side by side for awhile reflecting on what had just transpired. In the aftermath, there was a creeping awkwardness between us. Quietly, Jane drew her legs up, turned sideways on the futon, and stretched them across my lap. She placed her head on my shoulder. We nuzzled.

Jane (low voice): We are going to break all the rules, tonight, aren't we? We are going to do this. It will be our secret.

I did not answer. I was doubly conflicted. One, that this was happening. Two, I would be my little sister's first. Jane had earlier shushed me on the latter. I had no wish to make her uncomfortable, and us, awkward.

I put my hand on her bare legs. I began caressing her soft skin. With just the tips of my fingers, I brushed, ever so slightly, down to her knees, then back up her thighs, higher, just short of her mound.

My sister slowly opened her legs wider on my lap. I stroked her thighs again, desiring to feel all the way to the silkiness of her mound. My fingers touched soft hair, even softer puffed lips, and the moist opening.

She laid down. Head on a scatter cushion. Legs still across my lap. She opened her legs wider. There was a raw nakedness to her. It sent a quiver to my very core.

I paused. Then, slid a finger inside her, gliding in easily, engulfed in warmth. Another finger. Withdrew my fingers slowly. My fingertips traced a light path around the edges of her opening. Everywhere I touched was glistening in warm moisture. My fingers glided all around. I loved her slightly sticky wetness. Through the dim nightlight, I saw her studying my face.

I wanted to go fast. To mount her and take her with abandon. Like a teenaged boy sowing his wild oats first time. But, I resisted. This should last. Go slow. Take our time. The night too precious to waste by hot haste. We would go by our plan. A long night's journey into day.

I traced the soft opening and those most secret small hidden lips with my fingers. I quickly grew to love that. I inhaled her sex as more liquid coated my fingers, and dribbled down into the crevice of her buttocks. Not without difficulty, I found her clitoris. I played softly with it. I caressed it experimentally until I discovered what brought a reaction. Moving my thumb across her clit, then back down. That worked. Sighs. Shudders. My sister moved one of her hands down to the slight bulge of her mons and her pubic hair. She began caressing herself there, just above my thumb. We were in tandem. Heavier breathing. More shudders.

My two fingers were still inside Jane, moving in and out slowly. My thumb up and down on her clit. I let my little finger slip down, below to the crevice. Found the opening to her anus. Small, moist, oily. Rubbed my finger around it. Pushed on it a little. Breathing heavier now. My thumb, fingers all moving in steady, slow rhythm, in and out, back and forth, pushing into both her openings. All in one back-and-forth motion. Slow. Over and over again.

And then, a sequence of shudders and low groans. Stronger, convulsing. Pelvis undulating.

Jane curled up in my lap. Hair ruffled, skin warm, face flush. She grew quiet. Tender and soft.

I strayed my hands over her. From her shoulders. Down the back. To her haunches. Toward those dark, secret places. They were still warm and wet. She was perched on my lap. My erection poked up between her legs. She touched it. Stroked it. Held my balls. Gathered the liquid from the head of my penis with her fingers, brought them to her lips. Then, held my erection.

Jane: So powerful. So strong. You could split me asunder.

Me: I would never.

Jane: This is what is so amazing. You could really hurt me bad. But, I know you won't.

She ran her fingers around the head of my penis. Played with the gathering droplets. I fought for control.

Jane: A little terrifying.

Me: Actually, in the locker room parade, I am just average.

Jane: No, no. Don't tease. It is really frightening. But, beautiful. With you inside of me, I could really lose myself.

She pulled my face to hers. We kissed. Her lips tasted a little salty. Just lips lightly against lips. She stuck her tongue out. Traced it around my lips. Slipped it into my mouth. Tongues exploring tongues. Warmth spreading. Somehow, it didn't seem strange. I thought of her not as my sis, but as Jane. This lovely woman, this girl next door, I had known all my life. But, in an instant, I do think of her as my sister. I couldn't help it. So unreal. Like a dream. Lovely. But wanton. Lewd. Depraved. Perverted.

Our legs entwined. Lips in motion everywhere.

Jane laid on her back. Arms stretched out beyond her head. An act of surrender.

Jane: Suck my nipples. Bite them. Make them hurt.

Take me, she was screaming silently. Her nipples were thick once again, and painfully pointed. Her areola soft and puffy. I sucked them, bit down, burrowed my face into them. Faint gurgling in her throat.

I reached down. Pulled her knees up to her chest. Moved my face down, kissing it, licking, smelling it, the smell that I knew will be with me from this day on. My tongue caressed, darted inside her and back out. Found her clit again. Back and forth over it, this time with the tip of my tongue. She came on my face. A little orgasm. But even after, there was liquid pouring out onto my nose and cheeks.

Her passion escalated. My head was clamped between her thighs. She began squeezing wildly as a second orgasm neared. This one evidently harder, stronger. She squeezed my head harder. Was she going to crush my skull? Finally, she groaned. Relaxed. Wiped her hair out of her eyes.

Jane (pleading softly): Come in me, big bro. Come in me. Now.

Her pussy. Tender, vulnerable. I put the head of my penis at its entrance. Moved in some. Back out. Her first. Her slit seemed small.

I started again. Slowly. Slowly. Slid half way in, then back out. Then a little farther. Now, a final push. All the way in. A transcending sharp muted shriek marked the moment that would redefine who we were.

I pulled her knees back down around my waist. She wrapped her long legs around me.

I began moving in and out. Kind of at an angle. A slow rhythm. Took it slow. The side of my face against the side of hers. Our bodies sweating, hair wet.The smell of us all around. I moved back and forth.

Jane (whispering): We will never tell. Our little secret. Always. We will keep our secrets.

Out the bay window, the first streaks of light of day crept up the far horizon.

I kept the rhythm inside her. I lifted up on my arms for a few seconds. Sweat dripped down my chest, dropping onto her breasts, mixing with her own. Her nipples covered in sweat. Our eyes locked in the dimness. The look from her was impossibly one of agony and exhilaration, in equal measures.

I fell back down atop her. Still moving in her, back and forth. She whimpered into my ear in a mewing kittenspeak.

I began moving faster, picking up pace. Her breathing labored to keep up. We were getting close.

We groaned. Her legs still around my waist, squeezing. I felt muscles deep in her pussy clamping me. Squeezing it. But, I was not about to give in to it. I was too hard, too strong to surrender. Not just yet. I pushed. Felt that I have reached the end of her insides. She groaned loudly for the first time, in what must be a little stab of pain. Back and forth, in a spacetime of our own.

My sister yelled my name. I was spewing warmth. She wailed into the new dawn air.

Jane (pensively): This will be our only time.

Me: The best things... they come in singular instances.

DAY TWELVE

Patio. Brilliant morning.

Chloe: All too soon, our stay is drawing to a close. We will be departing tomorrow. The weather is heavenly. Cole and I plan to have a picnic on the coral island this morning. Would you like to join us?

Jane: We will love to. Let us pack a picnic. It is a weekday today. We will have the coral island to ourselves.

John: For the swim to the coral island, we have a waterproof bag for the picnic stuff, cellphones, cameras and whatever.

Cole: That's great! I will pack my DSLR camera. Last opportunity for us to snap some quality pictures besides the cellphone selfies and wefies.

We trooped down from the penthouse to the condominium garden. Chloe was in her usual skimpy bikini. Cole in his thong brief, his cock sock. But, he had wrapped a towel around his waist to lend a modicum of modesty in case we met other condominium residents in the common areas. I was in my speedo. By normal standards, it was brief. But, held against Cole's costume, it was pedestrian. Jane was in her one-piece. She was overdressed. Dressed to the nine, in modesty.

At the entry access to the cliff path, we stooped and entered a kind of hollowed lair sanctum in the tangle of high bushes. The quintessential secret passage. The only missing feature was having to whisper a secret codeword three times to enter. Once inside, we moved a few metres into the hollowed obscurity to the left, and exited through an opening. Voila! The elusive cliff path. It snaked down giddily to the cove. Jane was particularly nimble-footed negotiating the path. A combination of familiarity and the lithe athlete in her. Shortly, we landed at the cove. Not a soul.

A craggy arc of forbidding cliff face bounded by austere rocks at each end jealously guarded the beach. A soft shelter of greenery. Eighteen feet of beach. Pristine fine white sand filtered through our toes, pampering our feet. The picture postcard coral island shimmered in pristine waters a mere hundred metres offshore. A world unto itself.

Cole crashed dramatically on the sand relishing its softness. We rested at the cove enjoying its tranquility.

We started our 100 meter swim to the coral island. Two pool lengths equivalent. Chloe and Jane swam ahead. Cole and I took turns to lug the waterproof bag. Shortly, we arrived at the land-facing rocky side of the island. We picked our way across to the ocean-facing side.

We arrived at the beach. Again, not a soul. Where the cove had a secluded, cocooned, cosy ambience, this open beach stared defiantly into the ocean. A gear shift in mood. The sand was even more pristine than at the cove. The far horizon of the ocean gave a sense of austere remoteness and solitude.

We crashed on the snow sand in euphoric exhaustion. After five minutes of processing the imagery before our eyes, we got down to unpacking our waterproof bag stash, and setup our picnic.

We lazed on the beach towel groundsheet. Cole and Chloe on on side facing off Jane and I on the other.

Chloe: This is so lovely. John, Jane, I do so envy you. You can do this every single day of the year.

Me: Chloe, Cole, you know, Jane and I are cool if you like to be your usual au naturel selves. This is your last call to soak in the rays, to make your tans complete. And this morning is just brilliant.

Jane: Yes. It will be no different from when we are in the penthouse.

Chloe: This is very kind of you. We will do just that.

Chloe stood up. In a semblance of ritual modesty, she faced away. Curiously, Cole went behind his sister. He unfastened her back-clasp bikini top. His next move surprised us even more. He knelt in front of his sister. He hooked his fingers on her nominal thong, and then, perfunctorily, pulled it down, as Chloe held his shoulder to balance herself on the uneven sand. She leveraged herself on Cole's shoulder as she lifted one foot, then the other, to take off her thong. For a few seconds, Chloe's silken mound was inches from her brother's face. Then, as Chloe pivoted her torso, she inadvertently grazed her mound against Cole's cheek.

Chloe (quipping): Oh, I don't know what I'll do without Cole. No sister should be without a bro like him.

In a similar customary modicum of modesty, Cole turned away from us. In a reversal of roles, Chloe knelt in front of Cole as if in veneration of an Adonis god, hooked her fingers at the top of his thong, then, drew it down with rapt attention in what was a delicate extrication operation, and when past the critical point, pulled it down in a single flurry of motion.

The siblings faced us in their full glory. An imagery that Jane and I were not unfamiliar with. But at this coral island beach, on this brilliant morning, there was a renewal of our senses, and an expectant air of new possibilities.

Chloe sat on the sand towel facing us. Her hands propped her torso up in a slightly reclined languid posture. Breasts with just the right sag. Her left leg was stretched straight out, toes pointed. Her right leg was bent, coquettishly, calf tucked below her left thigh. Her silken mound displayed no evidence of slit. This feminine charm was artfully stashed away low on her mound. A curious bodily concoction. Buxom and nubile. Mature and pubescent. Ballerina and go-go dancer.

Cole's right leg extended straight out. His left leg raised and bent. His chin rested on his left knee, as if in contemplation of something deeply profound. His penis rested on his right thigh. Well, not quite. It appeared levitated ever so slightly over his thigh in his trademark permanently semi-erect state.

Wine. A silky social lubricant. We talked about their holiday experience with us. We meandered on about Jane's and my life on this coast. Their travel experiences. Our travel experiences. Our homestay hosting experiences. The Arts. The inane politics of our day. And then...

Chloe: You must have wondered about Cole and I?

Me: We can see that you are close...

Chloe: That would be the politest understatement of the year. Even though there is a 5-year gap between our ages, we were close growing up together in the southern English countryside. And then marriage, family responsibilities, mortgages, kids' education crept up and commandeered us. So, this holiday has been a heaven-sent opportunity for Cole and I to reconnect. To recapture a bit of our sibling intimacy. Such felicity is rare. We have to live it fully as it presents itself.

Jane and I instinctively gazed at Cole. We didn't quite expect him to stamp his foot on the sand and bellow "Hear, hear!", but that he would say something. He did not disappoint.

Cole (languidly): Indeed, we had happy memories. Chloe being five years ahead on the curve was a lovely elder sis in my angsty growing up years.

Jane: Well, John and I are glad that we have contributed to your rebonding in our small way.

Cole got up. It was getting warm. He wanted to get into the water to cool some. He extended his hand to his sister. He playfully scooped her up in one swoop, and carried her over the threshold of shoreline, into the inviting turquoise. They splashed and frolicked like newly unleashed teens, and then locked into embrace.

Me: Should we join them?

Jane: I have been thinking about it. I feel farcically overdressed in my one-piece.

Me: Well, I meant joining them in the water.

Jane (somewhat embarrassed): Oh!

Me: But, yes, what you have said has crossed my mind too. I am comfortable going nude with them if you are. There is no compulsion on us of course. But, it seems so right in the context we are in right now. This seclusion. Brilliant sunshine. Trustworthy guests who have warmed up to be our friends. Remember our homestay business objective of broadening our lived experience? This is one such moment.