Charlie and Mindy Bk. 01 Ch. 06

This is the sixth chapter of seven in Book 1 of the Charlie and Mindy tetralogy—which is a story of forbidden love between a brother and a sister. I am rewriting and reposting a series I removed over two years ago.

It takes time for the chaste love between a brother and a sister to become erotic love between a man and a woman, and the first few chapters of this book chronicle that transformation, so the early chapters of this series may not be what you're looking for. While there is sexual activity in every chapter, the "good parts" of the story don't appear until later chapters.

You can follow Charlie and Mindy's hike on USGS topographical maps or on on-line versions of them. (There are a number of good ones on the Web.) Their Belford Lake campsite is at 42° 56' 26" N, 109° 37' 51" W.

I value your comments and your feedback. When circumstances permit, I will try to respond to each.

—CarlusMagnus

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Saturday

The night hadn't been as cold as the night before: We were 700 feet lower, and we weren't as exposed to the nighttime downhill breeze. We had slept in the tent, though we'd left the door open. This was the fifth consecutive night I had spent in the doubled sleeping bag with my little sister. We had become thoroughly re-accustomed to sleeping together—as we had when we were children.

I woke once, around midnight, I think, needing to unload the extra cup of cocoa. I was on my side, and she was snuggled up against my back. I tried to sneak in and out of the sleeping bag without waking her, but I failed. She, too, had to unload. She didn't take long, but I was almost asleep again, on my other side, when she crawled back in. I remember how she backed up against me and pulled my arm around her. I remember, too, that I squeezed her and heard her "Mmmm" as I drifted back to sleep.

We slept soundly for the rest of the night. We awoke together in the early light, and I felt—knew—that we had kept in close contact through the night. We were still in close contact; we had surely flipped and flopped through the night, but we awoke in almost the same positions in which we'd gone back to sleep. My arm was draped over her waist.

Her first waking act was to bring my hand up to cup her bare tit. Naturally, I squeezed it. She responded, just as naturally, by clenching my boner—which extended, in its accustomed way, from the fly of my boxers—between her ass cheeks.

She spoke first. "Do you have a boner every morning?"

I replied, "Yeah. Almost. Even when I sleep alone."

"God!" she said. "You are so randy!"

"Nah. I don't think it has anything to do with being randy. I didn't even notice it this morning until you squeezed it."

"Like that?" she asked, clenching her ass cheeks again.

My cock surged, earning me another clench. I squeezed her boob again. That earned still another clench.

I went on. "I think most guys wake up with boners. There are even jokes about it. I think it's just the way cocks work."

"Isn't it inconvenient?"

"Well, yeah, it can be. It even made me think I ought to lie to my favorite little sister one morning not long ago. But what do you think I ought to do about it?"

"Charlie, I'm really sorry I was so hard on you—"

I interrupted: "I think I was the one who was hard on you, so to speak."

That got me an elbow in the ribs—poorly directed because she had a bad angle. I said "Oof!" anyway to prevent another, better aimed, one.

"Bozo! You know what I meant. Settle down. I'm trying to apologize. You knew I would think you'd gotten hard because of me. You were embarrassed because you hadn't, and you were afraid I'd think that you were…" She paused, searching for a word. "…molesting me. When you weren't."

"That was it exactly."

"I'm sorry, Charlie." She was contrite. "I was the asshole that morning—not you."

"You weren't being an asshole; you didn't know about morning boners."

I went on, "I tried to get right with you later that morning. But I was still confused. All I'd figured out was why you were mad at me, and I didn't get the rest. You really are better with words than me, because I couldn't put that part in words until you just did it for me. Except for the part where I tried to lie. That was dumb, and I'm really sorry I did it."

"I'm sorry we misunderstood each other."

She turned her head and grinned at me. "And now you know that you can molest me any time you want to. The oftener, the better!"

"Now who's being randy?" I said as I squeezed her tit again and kissed her on the back of her neck. And got a shiver and a big ass-clench in return. But we had to pee, so not much more happened then.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The morning chores were soon done, and we were on the trail again. The weather continued to hold; it looked like it was going to be another clear warm day. Once again, we had a good bit of ground to cover—including the lower two of the three Pole Creek crossings. From there on, though, it would be mostly downhill.

It took us a little less than an hour to reach the middle crossing. Before long, we'd made both crossings. As before, Mindy had no trouble. Following a short break, we headed up over the rise toward the Chain Lakes.

It was too early for lunch when we passed the northernmost of the Chain Lakes, and reached the spot where we'd taken our lunch break on Tuesday. So we walked until we reached the large grassy area above the north end of Barnes Lake. There we stopped in the shade of a small pine grove that commands a view of the entire length of the lake. We shed our packs, sat down and munched on trail food. We had plenty of time, so we extended the break to work on our journals, read, even nap a little.

Eventually we set out again. In about a half hour, we reached the junction with the Timico Lake Trail and made our turn. A bit later, Lake Jacqueline came into sight. Soon, we passed the point where we'd met the skunk, and yielded right-of-way. There was no sign of him (her?) this day. Around mid-afternoon, we came down a rather steep quarter-mile descent to see, on the left side of the trail, the ruin of Black's Cabin.

The campsite we'd used on Monday was unoccupied when we arrived. We were well practiced at setting up camp by then, and we were done within an hour—laundry included. We had also checked my shin, and found that it was healing well. But, just to be safe, we had smeared more antibiotic over it, and taped a new piece of sterile gauze over it.

It was late afternoon when I put water on the stove. We had used most of our food, so there wasn't much choice that night: We could have chicken, we could have noodles, or we could have chicken and noodles. I picked the latter—planning to add our remaining freeze-dried peas to it. There were also some dried apples left; while we ate the main dish, I would stew them with some brown sugar for dessert. We would have to wait a bit for them to cool, but time wasn't a problem.

I needed only a minute or so to dive into the food bags, and gather what I would need to fix the meal. When I finished, the water was nowhere near boiling, so I looked around for Mindy. She was standing about 30 yards away—near the lakeshore, looking out over the lake. Knowing that it would be a while before there was more to do to get supper ready, I walked over to her. She heard me coming and looked around, smiling. I stepped up close to her side and put my arm around her waist. She wrapped her arm around me, and we held each other close, side-to-side, as we looked at the lake.

We stood there for a minute or two, drinking in the beauty that surrounded us.

I broke the silence: "I think this is the loveliest of the campsites we've used."

"I do, too. I'm glad you shared these mountains with me over the last week." She turned her head to look up at me; I looked back down at her. She went on, "And I'm glad we had this time together alone to reconnect with each other."

I smiled at her. "I think we've done more than just reconnect."

She smiled back at me, and nodded. Together, we turned to face each other. My free arm found her waist; she placed her other hand on my shoulder, resting her arm on mine. We held each other, not tightly, but close. She looked up at me expectantly. Wordlessly, I lowered my head and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Tenderly, she returned my kiss.

Our mouths remained closed; it wasn't passion's demanding kiss. But neither was it the chaste kiss proper between brother and sister. That kiss was a lovers' kiss, and with it I communicated the new bond I felt deepening and strengthening between us. I finally recognized that bond for what it was—and for what it entailed. In that kiss, I accepted and acknowledged a new relationship with her.

The kiss ended, and our lips parted, but we continued, wordlessly, to hold each other close. I looked at her with new eyes, and I believed that she saw newness in my eyes—as I saw newness in hers. From that moment on, I knew beyond all doubt that we were no longer merely brother and sister, but that, at some future time, we would come together as man and woman.

She had not been ready for that on Wednesday evening, and we hadn't known then if she ever would be. I looked into her lovely blue eyes. In them I could see that she would resolve the problem of half-measures, of whether. She would resolve it in favor of what we both wanted: One day, we would be lovers. We would commit ourselves to something that is forbidden. I would embrace that commitment, because I understood, now, what we had come to mean to each other. We would overcome the prohibition.

We kissed again, briefly, holding each other tightly this time. When we finally parted, we walked, hand in hand, back to our wilderness kitchen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After the supper dishes were done and the water was hot, I poured our evening cocoa. She got our pads and placed them so we could sit beside each other, backs against a handy log, looking out over the lake. I brought both cups and handed hers to her.

I knew that soon we would touch each other intimately. Her smiling eyes told me that she knew that, too—and looked forward to it as eagerly as I did.

As she took the cup, I sat down at her right side. I put my arm diagonally around her so that her shoulder fit under my arm. and my hand clasped her waist. Her hand fell on my thigh. and gently squeezed me.

We each took a ritual sip. We sat there for a moment or two, enjoying the contact with each other. We looked each other in the eyes. I can't say which of us was the first to turn body toward the other, but we both did; her shoulder slipped out from under my arm, and my hand slipped from her waist to the middle of her back.

Our lips met as if of their own wills. As our tongues played the old, but always new, hide-and-seek game, we set our cups down out of the way. She drew me close, and my hand slipped between us to cup her tit through her shirt. I felt her nipple stiffen as I rolled it between thumb and finger.

As we broke our kiss, she caressed my cheek. I turned my head, kissed her fingers, drew one into my mouth, and nibbled it lightly. Her finger lingered for a bit, and then she caressed my ear. Again, the powerful eroticism of her touch on my ear surprised me. I drew her to me and kissed her, deeply and hungrily. She returned the kiss as hungrily, while my hand continued to cup her tit and tweak her nipple.

While we kissed, she reached to the uppermost button of my shirt and undid it. Quickly, she undid a few more, and, reaching inside, began stroking my bare chest.

I broke from the kiss. "Let's lie down," I suggested.

She grinned. "I'm not sure why we didn't do that in the first place."

Separating, we got up and moved the pads away from the log. I stepped over the pads toward her, and took her into my arms. She came happily to me, and placed her arms on mine.

She looked up at me, smiling. I smiled down at her as I reveled in the feel of her wonderful little body against my own body. I brought my hand up to support the back of her head as I bent down and kissed her again, deeply, hungrily, passionately. Time stopped as we held that kiss, each lost in the taste, the smell, the gentle touch of the other.

Without breaking the kiss, she locked her forearms behind my neck. I felt her transfer her weight to my neck and shoulders, and I stooped a bit and lowered my hands to her ass cheeks. I took all of her weight upon my neck, shoulders, and hands, and I straightened as she wrapped her legs around the upper part of my hips. Together, as we kissed, we ground my hardened cock against her mound.

At length, she broke the kiss, but she kept her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips. I straightened my head some, but I continued to look at her.

"I love to feel your hard cock against my pussy like this. And to feel the rest of you against me," she whispered to me.

"What did I tell you about a naughty little babe rubbing her tits and her pussy against me?"

"I'm not naughty, I'm not a babe, and I am not little." She pouted a bit, tried to kick me without unwrapping a leg from my hips or knocking herself loose. The kick failed miserably, but she didn't come loose.

"You are little, and you are a babe—maybe even a major babe. And if you were a good girl, you wouldn't know what a cock is—let alone that they get hard or why they might."

"Then I'll take naughty any day. I love making you hard. It turns me on. Kiss me again, while I rub my tits and my pussy against you some more."

Sometimes I'm good at obeying orders. This was one of those times. I did exactly what she'd told me, and she did exactly what she'd said she would.

We broke that kiss, and I set her down on her feet.

"Now," I said, "I'm going to get you naked." I started unbuttoning her shirt.

"I'm going to get you naked, too."

"My hands are busy," I replied. "Too busy to stop a naughty little babe who likes her men naked."

As I finished with her shirt buttons, her hands found the remaining buttons on my shirt. When she'd finished, I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face away from me. I peeled her shirt back over her shoulders and dropped it on the ground.

Stepping close to her, I brought my arms under hers, and cupped her perfect little tits. Her hands stroked the outsides of my thighs. I held her shoulders and her back against myself, and I reached around to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear. She tilted her head in response, so that my lips could reach her more easily. I continued to hold her tits in my hands, gently squeezing and massaging them.

After a bit, she turned her head toward me, and searched for my lips with her own. Finding them, she kissed me deeply over her shoulder. At the same time, she rubbed the top of her ass against my bulging cock.

She broke the kiss and looked at me with mock reproach. "You interrupted me," she said, turning back to face me. Smiling, she pulled my shirttail out of my hiking shorts, put her hands on my hips, turned me around so that I faced the pads. She peeled my shirt off my back.

"Dammit, you big oaf! I can't reach your ear to kiss it," she complained. But she'd tried, probably on tiptoe, and I had felt her firm little tits, naked against my bare back. Failing in her initial design, she improvised. I felt the hot, moist touch of her lips, and then of her tongue, in the small of my back. Her hands came around my hips and unhooked my belt-buckle. She undid the top button of my hiking shorts and inched them down a little. I thought I was going to collapse from powerful, unexpected sensations when her tongue found its way down to the upper end of the crack of my ass. I moaned as my cock pulsed repeatedly, fighting to find its way out of my pants.

Sensing my near paralysis, she slipped in front of me and knelt on the nearer pad, facing me. She lowered my zipper and slowly, looking up at me and grinning, she drew my shorts and my boxers down, down, down, over the bulge of my stiffened cock—until it bounded to freedom, right at her eye level. She stopped its bouncing by taking it into her hand; she stroked it a few times.

Knowing that she had my undivided attention, she brought her mouth to my crown and kissed it gently. Keeping her hand around the base, she brought her hot, wet mouth over my length.

As my little sister took me into her mouth, she fluttered her tongue. She withdrew until only my crown remained in her mouth, and then moved forward to take me in again. She did it several times in quick succession, her tongue tickling me throughout. My hips bucked. Again, I thought I was going to collapse. But while I could still stand, she removed her hand and her mouth.

Smiling up at me, she said, "Not yet, buster. We don't want him to go off too soon."

She bent down, undid, and removed my shoes. She lowered my pants, and I stepped out of them. Except for my socks, I was naked. She kissed my cock again, stood up, stepped back from me, and looked me up and down.

"I must be a naughty girl," she said. "I do like my men naked."

I stepped up to her and took her into my arms. Again, she came happily. My cock rested between us, raised upward between our bellies. Her naked tits rubbed against me, and I bent to kiss her. "At least," she said, "I like this man naked." Our kiss swallowed the last syllable.

When that kiss ended, I worked my way down her neck, past her shoulder, to her nipple. I took it between my lips and fondled it with my tongue. She sighed and thrust toward me, driving her nipple deeper into my mouth. I closed my lips around it, carefully protecting it from my teeth, and sucked on it. She moaned, and I could tell that I'd paralyzed her.

When I removed my mouth from her nipple to move on, she held me tightly.

"It feels really good when you do that. I can feel it all over my body, but especially in my clit and deep inside my pussy. I think it's my uterus contracting. It feels a little bit like when you make me come, but it's gentler and slower."

"In that case," I said, "let's do it again." And I did—but with the other nipple. Again, she thrust her tit toward me, moaned, and went almost limp.

As enjoyable as I found playing with her tits, I remembered that she still had some clothes on. After a bit, I removed my mouth.

"We dirty old men like our women naked," I said, as I knelt in front of her. "And I especially like you naked. Put your hands on my shoulders."

She did, and as she used me for balance, I raised her foot and removed her shoe. Then the other. Still kneeling, I unhooked her buckle, undid button and zipper, and slid her shorts and boxers down. She stepped out of them. I found myself looking directly at the dark brown triangle of her pubic hair and, immediately below it, the mound of her pussy.

I put my hands on her ass and pulled her gently toward me. She straddled my thighs as she came forward, and I kissed the little dimple at the top of her cleft. My nose buried itself in her fur, and her mesmerizing female aroma wafted up to me. I extended my tongue and inserted its tip into her furrow, just managing to reach the base of her clit. I wiggled my tongue a bit to let her know what I'd found.

She moaned again, and her hands came to my head to hold me gently against herself. She rolled her hips, so that I could reach the upper part of her inner lips with my tongue. But after I'd given them a few strokes, she pulled away.

"Not yet, Charlie," she said. "First I want to hold you. I want to touch you, and I want you to hold me and touch me."

We lay down on the pads, I on my back, Mindy at my right. She rolled so that her body rested against mine, and put her head on my shoulder, her arm across my waist. As she drew herself close to me, I played the fingers of my hand up and down her spine, my fingernails scratching her lightly; she shivered at my touch.