Charlie and Mindy Bk. 03 Ch. 06

"Oh, shit!" The words exploded from her. "That feels so good, Charlie!"

I continued to suck and nibble, using mostly lips and tongue, and bringing my teeth into play every now and then—but gently, so gently, trying to stay on the right side of the fuzzy line that separates pleasure from pain.

At length, I rose from her nipple to look into her eyes again; their deep blue fire consumed me. She reached down between our bodies, found my straining cock, clasped it, and began to stroke it. My own hand moved from her side, across her belly—fingers tickling as they sought her furrow.

I separated her outer lips and found the slick, hot wetness of her desire. Her hips rocked, and the little button of her clit found my finger, pressed against it, slid up and down it. She moaned with pleasure. So did I, in response to the action of her hand on my cock and the fragrance of her arousal that now reached my nostrils.

Still lost in the blue that blazed from my sister's eyes, I whispered, "Now you're going to get it!"

"I sure do hope so!" she whispered back, cobalt flaring from her eyes.

Rising to my knees, I moved between her legs. I felt the bedcovers slide off behind me as I tore my gaze from her eyes to look at my target—which now lay open, inviting, demanding my invasion. The hand that had gently stroked her brother's cock only moments before now tugged it insistently, guiding me into the tight, slippery heat of her pussy—my little sister's loving pussy.

We hissed and moaned in delight as our bodies joined and I shifted my weight to my elbows. "Damn!" I whispered into her ear in response to the almost overwhelming sensations her body caused in my cock. Our bodies now hid our junction from my view, and I shifted my gaze back to her eyes. "You feel so good when we put me in you. It takes me by surprise every time."

She wrapped her legs around my thighs, her arms around my neck, and, holding me tightly to herself, she returned my gaze. "Oh, Charlie! I love you so much! When you're in me it makes me feel so close to you."

"I love you even more," I whispered back. "And I love being in you."

We lay there, joined, not moving, gazing into each other's eyes, reveling in the feel of carnal union become spiritual.

And then I lowered my head and nibbled lightly on her ear lobe with my lips. A little shudder ran through her body; it caused her pussy to tighten its grip on my cock. A shudder ran through my own body in response, and my cock thrust itself momentarily a little deeper.

We moaned together. I raised my head and looked again into her eyes. She smiled up at me and chuckled. It was the deep, horny chuckle I had come so much to love hearing. "You dog," she said. "You know what makes me work, don't you."

I answered by lowering my head again, on the other side, and nibbling her other ear lobe. This time, I nipped lightly with my teeth. A more pronounced shudder ran through her, and her pussy clutched at me again.

My hips bucked again, and this time they would not stop moving. I thrust myself into her, withdrew, thrust again, withdrew…

"Yes, yes, yes!" she whispered into my ear. "Harder! Deeper! Faster!" Her own hips moved in counter-rhythm to my own, and my cock slid in, out, in, out, in, out of her hot, clutching, slippery friction.

Compulsion grew within me; I would not—could not—have stopped if the world had ended. Stress mounted in the depths of my groin, grew, became unbearable tension. And then, ecstatic release! I thrust myself into her—deep, deep into her—and my cum raced, again and again and again, through the length of my cock into my little sister's welcoming body.

Vaguely, I was aware that she, too, was in the throes of orgasm as my own ended and I fell limply upon her little body. As awareness returned to me, I felt her slowly subside. My burning lungs demanded oxygen, and that reminded me to pull my elbows in and hoist my weight off of her.

My head still rested, face down, beside her head, on the same pillow that held hers. I turned toward her and nibbled again on her ear. Again, a little shudder ran through her body, and again, her pussy clutched at me. I shuddered, myself, but overpowering desire was spent and my hips didn't buck.

Our bodies satisfied but still joined, we rested there for a while, sharing the lazy sweetness of afterward. Then she turned her own head toward me, and I felt the gentle touch of her hot, moist lips on my neck. They played there for a few moments and withdrew. "I'm so glad I'm in love with you," she whispered.

"I'm even more glad I'm in love with you," I responded. "Being able to spend tonight in bed with you really is an unexpected treat," I whispered back. "But being in love with you is an even better, even more unexpected treat." My hands slipped, palms upward, under her shoulders and pulled her tightly against me.

"Big Brother and Little Sister," she whispered into my ear.

I raised my head and looked into her smiling, deep blue eyes. I smiled back at her, and I recited the response. "Best friends and lovers!"

Together, our smiles deepening at the childish nonsense that was anything but childish, everything but nonsense, we whispered to each other, "Now and always."

I felt my cock, now softened, begin to slide out of her as she whispered, "I love you so much."

I rolled to my left, onto my back and pulled her onto her side against me as I whispered "I love you even more."

She rested her head on my shoulder and threw her arm around my chest. Her near shoulder found its place in my armpit, and I felt her arm slide under the pillow my head rested on. My arm encircled her and held her little body against me. My hand took hers into its clasp, and I felt her fold her leg across my thighs. Her round little boobs pressed pleasantly against my side, and her pussy rested warmly—and wetly—against my thigh.

Silently, we held each other, and I lost myself in the feel of her breathing and her heartbeat against me. The reading light was still on, and we lay naked together in each other's arms without any blankets over us—but neither of us cared.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It must've been two or three hours later when I awoke to find her standing over me. She had my shirt on, and she was pulling blankets over me. Seeing my eyes open, she smiled and whispered, "Hi, sleepyhead! I woke up because I was cold and I had to pee. I didn't want run around the house naked, so I put your shirt on. I don't want you to get cold; you need some blankets over you."

The single window in the room was just three feet away from her side of the bed. The shade was drawn, but it was a very cold night. So a frigid draft poured off the window and cascaded across the bed. I was cold, too, I realized. Lying half drunk, naked, and asleep in that draft, it was a wonder we hadn't gotten hypothermic. The blankets she'd just put over me hadn't had time to warm up; I shivered a bit.

I was, maybe, half awake. The reading light at the bedside gave only dim illumination—which reflected from her disheveled hair, giving it the appearance of a halo. The shirt she'd borrowed was an ordinary man's shirt, casual, cream-colored, and, being my size, far too large for her. On her little body, it resembled nothing more than a gown. She looked like an angel hovering over me, smiling, caring for me.

I looked up at her and smiled sleepily back. "Thanks, Angel," I whispered back. Her hand moved to my cheek, caressed me gently; it was an angel's touch.

Then she took the shirt off and laid it back across the chair where I'd originally left it. She reached to turn off the light, and I rolled toward her side of the bed. The room went dark, and the bed shook slightly as she felt her way around it. She slid under the covers and backed up against me. My arms encompassed my warm, naked little angel as she wiggled back to get closer to me. We hummed happy little moans, and I knew no more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Our schedules being little changed from the fall, it didn't take us long to get back into the routine of classes and homework. As expected, Mindy found herself busier this semester than she had been during the fall. That didn't have a big impact on our time together—though perhaps we spent more of that shared time on schoolwork than we had before.

George was also busier—and he was out of the house more than he had been during the fall. Publicly, Mindy and I sympathized with him. Privately, however—well, his absences gave us private time with each other for which we had good uses.

On the first day of classes, Mindy and Steph were pleasantly surprised to find each other taking the same Introductory Spanish course. That gave us even more reason to spend time with the twins.

Buck, Mindy, and I were all in the same fourth-semester French course; Steph, Mindy, and I were all in the same fourth-semester Calculus course; and now Steph and Mindy were taking first semester Spanish together. It made good sense that the three of us should do a good bit of studying together, and we found ourselves doing exactly that—almost always in their house.

We also ramped up the business of how we were being seen in public. Often, we ended a study session with a trip to Sarge's, where Buck and Mindy would sit together on one side of a booth and Steph and I would sit together on the other side. And Steph and I had been right about the distance between her and me and the distance between Buck and Mindy; those distances did take care of themselves. (And all of us did give them a little help!)

By early February, Mindy and Buck were sitting in close contact with each other one side of what had become "our" booth at Sarge's, and Steph and I were doing the same on the other side of the booth. Hands frequently found thighs, too, on both sides of that table—and feminine heads found it necessary, sometimes, to rest themselves on masculine shoulders. Interesting parts of female bodies rubbed against male bodies—and the other way around.

The time that Mindy and I spent with Buck and Steph, all four of us agreed, was time well spent. Our relationship as couples continued to deepen and improve. Their good will and their generosity seemed beyond measure.

Mindy and I had understood from the outset that finding them had been a wonderful piece of good luck. When we had awakened together in Steph's bed that Sunday morning before spring classes started, we'd begun to appreciate them even more. That morning, they gave us each a key to their house, and the two of them assured us that both of us, whether together or alone, were welcome at any time. We should not, they said, worry about whether they were home, but should just let ourselves in whenever we happened by and needed anything—including, Steph said with a knowing grin, a bed. They wanted us, they emphasized, to think of their house as our house.

So it wasn't long before Mindy and I spent a second night together in their spare bed. After we had lived through a second morning, unwashed, with dirty underwear, shaggy manes, and dragon-breath, we moved some clothing in and got toothbrushes, combs, and other necessities to keep there. Steph's bedroom effectively became ours; she even moved her clothing out of the room so that she could dress without bothering us on mornings when we were there. By mid-February, we were spending a night or two a week with each other in our home together away from our homes apart. We thought it wonderful that we could share a bed once or twice a week.

The four of us were then studying together at their house several evenings every week. And when we finished our studying early enough—which was the rule a good bit more than it was the exception—we would then find ourselves at Sarge's, each of us necking publicly with the someone else's sibling—warming up for our real lovers, so to speak.

By early March, Buck and Steph had become our lifeline in a world that is hostile to sexual relationships between siblings—relationships like the one that Mindy and I shared, and like the one that Steph and Buck shared. (It wasn't until somewhat later that we understood that we had become their lifeline, too.)

My little sister and I had made the best of our circumstances during the preceding fall, and, if the truth be told, we had not been unhappy. But we hadn't known, then, what it was like to have a refuge where we could relax with each other, be ourselves, and know that our love for each other would be not only accepted—but welcomed.

Our academic lives—all four of them—went well during this period. Mindy and I continued to earn A's, while Buck and Steph earned mixtures of A's and B's. So we were all doing work well above the merely satisfactory. But Steph, Buck, and I were all second-semester sophomores, and the college required the three of us to declare a major on or before March 1.

We all understood that our choice of a major was important, being, effectively, a choice of what was supposed to be a lifelong specialty. So we approached the matter with appropriate wariness. Of course, we put the declaration off until 4:00 pm on Tuesday, March 1. That was when we all trooped over to the registrar's office to record our official declarations. Mindy came, too, to give us moral support. Wisely, though, she reserved her own formal declaration until the following year.

When we got there, we found that about three-quarters of the sophomore class was in line ahead of us. Another eighth of the sophomore class joined the line behind us.) The office personnel, it turned out, had long experience in this matter; they had known that there would be a last-minute rush. In fact, they had planned that the office wouldn't open until ten the next morning, so that they could take time off to compensate for having to stay open late this evening.

Buck declared computer science, and I finally committed myself to mathematics. Steph declared a double major—mathematics and Italian. That seemed a strange combination to me, but she said that she was interested in both and wanted to study both—and if it worked for her…

The main thing I regretted during this stretch of time was that neither George nor I had much time to spend on the friendship we'd established with each other over the previous year and a half. He seemed busier than ever with his studies—even busier than justified by the new three-hour course beyond what had already been keeping him pretty well occupied during the fall.

And the new relationship Mindy and I were establishing with Steph and Buck occupied a lot of my time. By mid-February I was spending four or five evenings (and two or three nights) a week out of the house.

George made no complaints about my overnight absences—as the Fundamental Code of Manly Behavior required of him. Although he said very little, it was pretty clear from what he did say that he figured (correctly) that I was getting laid regularly, that he figured (incorrectly) that Steph was hauling my ashes, and that he admired me for my masculine prowess. (The Fundamental Code required the latter admiration—but it seemed genuine.)

That he thought that Steph and I were getting it on was, no doubt, because he'd seen me carrying on with Steph at Sarge's—where he'd also seen Mindy carrying on with Buck. And I'm sure that he knew that she was spending as much time at Steph and Buck's house as I was. So I guessed that he had concluded that she was sleeping with Buck.

What he thought of that, given how she'd refused to go out with him on the ground that she had a boyfriend back home, he never said. But he continued to exchange friendly, even cordial, greetings with her on those now less common mornings when she arrived at our house as he was leaving for his first class. He seemed to bear her no ill will, reckoning, I guess, that his timing had been poor or that he just wasn't a guy she'd be interested in.

I felt a little sorry about that, because those are feeling that guys all know too well. I imagine that girls have parallel troubles, but I can't guess what they are.

In his mind, the assumptions that I was doing Steph and that Mindy was doing Buck probably explained why Steph never spent the night in our house and in my bed. It would seem natural, under those assumptions, that the four of us would get together (to get together) at Steph and Buck's place.

According to Mindy, her roommate, Carol, had worked out conclusions that matched George's. And there was no reason for Carol to wonder why Buck never spent the night in Mindy's bed, because Mindy's bed was in Bussey Hall—a women's dormitory from which men were strictly banned.

About a week into March, Mindy and I got a letter from Mom. It was addressed to Mindy, but meant for both of us. In it Mom told us that, the day after we got the letter, she was leaving for Colombia to meet up with Dad in Bogotá. She was to arrive in Bogotá the next day. When his business there was finished, they would fly from there, by private plane chartered by Dad's firm, to Santiago de Chile. How long they would be in Santiago was uncertain, and she would let us know from there what was up.

She apologized again to Mindy for their spat, apologized again to me for the doubts she'd entertained about the way I might be treating my little sister, told us that she loved us both very much, hoped that school was going well, and wished us well—individually and as a couple. She seemed to be at peace, now, with our love for each other.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That Monday, halfway through the month of March, was the worst day of our lives.

The day began well enough. Mindy and I had spent the evening before with Buck and Steph. It was the twins' twentieth birthday, and Mindy and I had taken them to Randolph's—a local restaurant that was just enough beyond a student budget to make it a treat—for dinner. That we weren't of legal drinking age and couldn't order wine with the meal helped contain the cost. We made up for that by spending the rest of the evening at Sarge's, where they knew us well and therefore didn't care about our ages.

At both establishments, Steph and I sat close to each other, as did Mindy and Buck. And, as the resulting male/female interplay almost guaranteed, Mindy and I had then spent the night in the bed that had formerly been Steph's (while Steph spent the night in her usual place in Buck's bed). We all got a little studying done in the morning, and then went off to our classes as usual.

The day progressed normally until about a quarter past one in the afternoon. That was when a woman I recognized as being from the office of the Dean of Students entered my history classroom and interrupted the professor.

Such interruptions are extremely unusual, and professors are—rightly—outraged at them. Dr. Wallace was no exception. She glared at the woman, who abjectly begged her pardon in Dean Stone's name—and then asked to speak privately with her for a moment. They stepped together out into the hall for a few seconds. We all looked at each other in amazement; we'd never seen anything like it before.

In less than a minute, they stepped back into the classroom. Dr. Wallace no longer appeared wrathful; she looked directly at me over the granny-glasses she wore when she lectured. Not unkindly, she said, "Mr. Magness, the Dean of Students needs to talk to you urgently. Ms. Ritter will take you to his office. Please go with her. You're excused from the rest of the class session."

I couldn't imagine why the Dean of Students needed so urgently to talk to me that he had sent someone to interrupt a class. And then it came to me. Unless, that is, he had learned somehow what my sister Mindy and I were doing with each other. The college, which was affiliated with a medium-sized protestant church body, frowned heavily on what it carefully called "extra-marital sexual intercourse."