Charlie and Mindy Bk. 01 Ch. 02

In her renewed grasp, I quickly hardened. As my cock stiffened, she pumped it a few times, experimentally sliding the skin of my shaft up and then down…up, and then down…up, and then down…

I squirmed a bit. She pumped a few more times with more enthusiasm.

I squirmed with more enthusiasm. My hips began to plunge against the insistent beat her hand adopted, meeting her downward motions, withdrawing from her upward ones.

Inspired, maybe, by her pussy's wetness, she leaned over, and I felt some of her saliva run down between her hand and my cock. As she stroked my lubricated shaft with one hand, she explored my belly, my chest, my neck, my face, my lips, with the other.

The lubrication was new, something I hadn't expected, hadn't ever felt before. I moaned at the sensation her hand gave me, sliding slickly up and down, up and down, up and down my cock.

Soon, so soon, too soon, my climax was nearly upon me. Sensing this, she stopped exploring with her other hand, and she joined her hands to form a long, slippery, wet tunnel enclosing and pumping my full length. Soon, very soon, it was my turn to stiffen, writhe, groan, as I thrust into the cavity formed by those enveloping hands, and my cum pumped out of my pulsing, pulsing cock.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We lay there for a while, naked in each other's arms. When we were ready to consider practicalities, we found that we'd made something of a mess of ourselves, so we had some cleaning up to do. Fortunately, it had been a warm day in the high country, and sunset was still over an hour away. It was noticeably cooler than it had been when we'd eaten, but it was not yet cold enough to make us uncomfortable. Thus, it wasn't necessary to get clothes on immediately.

Time for baths, we decided. We'd had two days of hard, sweaty work, and neither of us had bathed. We had brought a good supply of biodegradable soap. Our large water carrier was still three-quarters full, and there was more water in the nearby stream.

I looked at her, and grinned at the thought of lathering and rinsing her little body. Her grin—and the glint in her eyes—told me that she, too, had more than our cleanliness in mind.

There was just one unpleasant fact our plan did not take into account: Only hours earlier, the water in the stream, and the water in our carrier, had been snow. It still thought it ought to be snow. It was not yet fully convinced that it was not snow!

Mindy guessed what we were facing as she filled our three pots from the carrier—but she said nothing. I saw her impish smile when she approached me with soap-bottle in one hand and pot full of water in the other, and I mistakenly attributed it to her anticipation of washing me. I was thinking about that, too, and looking forward to it. And to washing her.

I was—very briefly!—mildly surprised when the impish smile turned into the familiar evil grin. Then she dashed the contents of that pot at my still-overheated groin.

Of what ensued, only three things need be mentioned. First, I recall how she marveled at the difference between the big, hard, stiff cock she'd handled only a little earlier and the wizened, floppy little stub she was washing.

Second, she had known only intellectually that she was getting a bath, too. It didn't dawn upon her until it was too late that ice-cold sauce for the gander is also ice-cold sauce for the goose. The fix she found herself in gave an entirely new meaning to the maxim that "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

Third, when we finished cleaning ourselves up, we were still big brother and little sister, best friends, now and always: laughing, cold ones.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Early as it still was, we reckoned that the frigid torment had earned us each another cup of hot chocolate. As the water—newly fetched from the stream—heated, we got back into our clothes, each putting on a spare pair of boxers, setting the old pair aside for the next evening's laundry, and adding some warmer layers on the outside.

We fixed the drinks and sat on our Ensolite pads, our backs against another handy boulder. I put my arm around her and gently pulled her close. She sighed, in pleasure and comfort, and rested her forearm on my thigh. Neither of us needed to say anything, nor did either of us need more from the other than the pure, simple, physical contact.

Darkness gathered and, silently, we sat, sipped our cocoa, and enjoyed each other's close presence, as we had done when we were little children.

(To be continued)

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