Cold Sister

After dinner, I knew going to bed early was a bad idea. Betsy wasn't coming. Despite three days of disturbed sleep, I could tell I was in for another evening of staring at the ceiling. So, after my evening shower, I went back down to the living room and turned on the NBA Finals. I had to hope this series went seven, or else I was going to be in real trouble in a few days.

I got on the couch, wearing my pj bottoms and an old t-shirt. For some reason I can't explain, I grabbed the fleece blanket from behind the couch and put it on my lap. It's not like I was cold.

I was starting to get into the game when I saw Betsy bound down the stairs. She was in another heavy outfit -- this time a big, brown fluffy sweater and sweatpants. She glanced my way and I got myself ready, knowing that things were about to get super awkward.

Instead, my sister hurried over to the couch and slipped in next to me. "You're all set up for me," she said, a tinge of awe in her voice. She pulled the blanket over herself and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

Our mom came out of the kitchen holding a stack of small, round cookies. She saw us sitting on the couch and stopped. "How cute," she said, "Sibling snuggle time."

"Brandon is so warm, Mom," Betsy said.

"Is he now?" Mom asked. She gave me a little knowing smile.

"It really is the best," Betsy said.

I stared at the game, pretending like the two of them weren't talking about me. Something about all of this made me feel on display and it was upsetting.

"Well don't stay up too late, OK?" Mom said, walking up the stairs to her bedroom.

"We're both adults, Mom," Betsy said, "I think we can figure it out."

Mom shook her head at both of us, but she kept going. Once she was out of earshot, Betsy poked me in the ribs.

"See, I told you she doesn't care," Betsy said.

"Seeing us on the couch in front of the TV and finding us in bed at 2am are two very different things, Bets."

Betsy made a little moue, but she didn't have an answer for that. Instead, she stared at the TV in silence. However she felt about the night before, she didn't show it. She stayed hooked on to me. Her level of comfort with the whole thing made me strangely uncomfortable.

"Oh, the orange team lost all of its orange-y-ness," Betsy said.

"They're called away jerseys," I said.

"Whatever," Betsy said. She rested her head against my chest. Her brown hair was back in its usual braid.

I tried to leave things as they were. Clearly my sister was fine with everything, but I found I couldn't be. Finally, I gave up and said it.

"Betsy, about last night. I'm sorry."

"About what?" Betsy asked, turning to look at me. Her cute face was crinkled with concern, only making her look more adorable.

"The, um, the kiss," I said, "It was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. I'm really sorry. All the time we've been spending together lately, I'm enjoying it. If I did something to mess that up, I don't think I could forgive myself."

"Personally, I liked it," Betsy said.

"You liked it," I said, "The kiss."

"Yes," Betsy said, brightly. "Didn't you?"

I paused. Well, I knew what I was supposed to say. That she was my sister and so it was icky and gross. Except that would be a colossal lie.

"It was nice," I said, underselling it by a mile. But I couldn't come out with the complete truth: that a quick peck with my sister had been the best kiss I'd ever had in my life. The fact that it was honest didn't make it any easier to admit. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

"You want to do it again?" Betsy asked.

She turned her head up to me. Put her hand on my cheek and leaned in. Betsy didn't wait for me to answer, she just pressed her lips to mine.

Betsy didn't give me a little peck on the lips. It wasn't a quick touch. She straight up kissed me, hard. I felt her teeth press through our lips. She teased her tongue against my mouth.

Instinctually, I opened so she could slip her tongue inside. The room filled with wet, smacking sounds. Little mmms and aahhs. Betsy kept her hand on my face, lovingly caressing my cheek while we made out. I squeezed her close against me, like trying to pull her body into my own.

"So warm," Betsy said, as we kissed on the couch. Not like siblings at all. Like lovers. "But then, you make me go away and you keep the warmth with you."

"We can snuggle in bed," I said, "For a little bit."

"And kiss some more?" Betsy asked.

"Yes," I said.

I turned off the TV and we both hurried back to my bedroom. I climbed under the covers and Betsy followed me. As soon as we laid down, her lips reached for mine like she'd been holding her breath the whole time.

Betsy grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head. Again, I usually slept that way. I'd always been topless when my sister was with me before. But something about her stripping me seemed so sexual in the moment.

"This is so wrong," I said, unable to stop myself.

Betsy drew back, a look of confusion etched on her adorable face. "Why?"

"We're siblings," I said, as if I was making some shocking pronouncement. "We're not supposed to do this stuff."

"Oh," Betsy said. She paused to think about it for a moment. "I guess, for me, it's not like that. So, it doesn't bother me."

Now I was the one looking befuddled back at my sister.

"It's the same as the cuddling," Betsy said, "It's not romantic. You're right, that would be wrong if we were doing it that way. It's more functional for me. Kissing you makes me feel warm. Warmer than when we hug. So, you're helping me out. That's all."

"Oh," I said, unsure if I was supposed to feel mollified or hurt. "OK."

"So, we can keep kissing?" Betsy asked.

That was all I needed to hear, I realized. How could I be upset if I got to keep doing this, whatever it was, with my little sister? Rather than answer her question, I simply leaned in, and we reconnected.

"You're warm now?" I asked, after a few minutes of sliding our lips and tongues together.

"Definitely," Betsy said, "This is all I want. I'm tired of being cold all the time."

I'm not sure how much time we spent in my bed. I lost track of everything except for the feel of my sister under my fingers. The sweetness of her breath on my cheek. Neither of us fell asleep, that was for sure.

Eventually, Betsy pulled back. My lips ached from all the kissing we'd been doing, but I still felt the disappointment well up in my chest.

"That should keep me," Betsy said, "At least for a few hours."

I raised my eyebrow at her.

"Right now, I feel pretty warm," Betsy said, "As warm as I get anyway. But once we break apart it slips away. I'm cold by the time I'm back in bed. But last night, after the kiss, it kinda lasted for a while. Long enough for me to fall asleep. I guess it's like charging up my heat battery. Your kisses are more efficient than your hugs or something."

"And you feel like you'll be OK now?"

"Hope so," Betsy said. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before she scampered out of my room.

I lay back, arms behind my head on the pillow. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me. I felt completely at ease with the world. Like I was drifting down a broad stream on a warm summer day.

My door popped back open.

"Hey," Betsy called into my room, "Camp is off tomorrow for some reason, you want to meet for lunch?"

My work schedule was busy, but never so much that I couldn't step out for a quick bite. I nodded my agreement and my little sister smiled so bright it lit the room.

*

We met at an outdoor cafe, one of those cute seafood places on a dock near the water that you find every three feet on the Florida coast. We sat in the afternoon heat and ate our sandwiches (we both got the mahi-mahi), chatting idly about school and life. Even though we were out on a metal jetty under the blistering sun, Betsy was dressed in her usual heavy outfit; like it might snow at any second. I got sweaty just looking at her.

We didn't make out or even kiss. At one point, Betsy held my hand, but only for a little bit. We didn't act in any way different than what we were, a brother and sister enjoying lunch together. And yet, it so very much obviously a date between the two of us, it felt scandalous.

Midway through our meal, Betsy's head popped up. Like a thought had just occurred to her.

"Why are you single?" she asked, out of nowhere.

"What?" I nearly fell back out of my chair. I knew my sister wasn't trying to be hurtful, but the question was so direct I didn't know how to respond to it.

"Sorry," Betsy said, "You only caught the tail end of the conversation I was having in my head."

I nodded like that made any sense.

"I was thinking about how nice it was to sit here with you," Betsy said, tossing her long brown braid behind her shoulder, "And how it would be a nice date if we weren't well, you know."

"Related?"

"Exactly," Betsy said, "And that got me thinking about what a great boyfriend you'd be. I mean, you're cute and tall. You've got a good body. Your hugs are lovely, and your kisses are, well, better than a sister should know, anyway."

I felt my cheeks go hot. I looked down and tried to hide it with my sandwich, but I was smiling too hard to take a bite.

"And you're a good guy. Funny and caring. I like spending time with you more than just about anyone. Truly."

"Which led you to the thought you finally spoke aloud," I said, "Why am I single?"

"Yes," Betsy said. She looked positively thrilled with my ability to complete her broken thoughts. "Do you want to be?"

"No," I said, "I miss a lot of things that go with being in a relationship. Of course, there's the, um, physical stuff. You know?"

This time, Betsy looked down and blushed.

"But mostly I just like having that emotional connection. That's why Mel and I broke up. I realized that we were faking it. I wanted more. But finding that is hard. You don't get there after a few dates, if you even get that far."

"Having the finish line feel so distant makes it hard to start," Betsy said, "But you still have to begin."

"I've tried," I said, "Am trying. But right now, not so much. What about you? You're cute and funny. Smart and se... I mean, you're alright for a sister. So, are you choosing to be single or has the universe forced it on you?"

"Somewhere in between," Betsy said.

The waitress came by and cleared our plates. I sat patiently and waited while that business was done so that my sister could explain herself.

"Unlike my brother, who is pretty great for a brother, most guys are only interested in one thing," Betsy said.

"Icthyology," I said, nodding empathetically.

Betsy tried not to laugh at my dad joke, but she did anyway. Then she glared at me for making her do it.

"In any case, I'm not ready for that yet," Betsy said, "I'm not a prude. I'd like to do more stuff. But I need to cross the emotional bridge before I can get there, and most guys aren't willing to take the time. So, I'm single by choice, in that the world is full of stupid boys who can't be bothered to fill my heart before they stuff it in... Well, other places."

"I'm sorry, Bets," I said, meaning it.

"Sometimes I'm glad that I'm cold all the time," Betsy said. She gestured at her outfit of sweats, more sweats, and then more sweats. "Wearing all of this? It's like a suit of armor that keeps me protected and safe. Imagine if I walked around like her."

Betsy pointed to a skinny blonde wearing an outfit that may as well have been two hand towels strapped to her body with rubber bands. I had to admit, while parts of me might have liked that look, my brain thought it looked pretty ridiculous.

"Maybe somewhere in between would be alright," I said.

Betsy smiled at me, wistfully. "Maybe. If I was warm."

After we paid the check, Betsy got up from her seat and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I drove back to the office, feeling so high that I could have walked the whole way. My feet wouldn't have ever touched the ground.

*

Betsy practically tackled me into bed that night.

"Brrrrr," she said, gripping onto me with surprising strength, "I think Dad turned the A/C up or something."

She wasn't kidding about being cold, Betsy's whole body trembled as I pulled her close to me under the covers. She was shivering like crazy, so bad we couldn't even kiss for a bit. Instead, she just held onto me, tight, like a life raft in the ocean.

Finally, I felt my little sister settle into her usual spot. Her head notched in the nook of my neck. Hand rested on my bare chest. I squeezed her tight to me. She gripped me back.

We stayed still for a bit, like savoring our connection. But soon enough we were back to kissing. I don't know how these make out sessions started, honestly. We kind of slipped into them. A furtive glance. A shared look. Then pow, duo-directional lipus-lockus.

Again, I stroked my sister's back. She ran her hand up and down my bare torso. Abruptly, I felt something bump against my dick.

I haven't mentioned it to this point, mostly because I assumed it would be fairly obvious. But I was getting truly, epically erect during these little pre-sleep sessions with my sister. I mean, hard as I'd ever felt. My balls would ache like crazy, too, which was probably part of what was keeping me up all night.

You'd assume, therefore, that after Betsy left or the next morning or whatever, that I would give myself some relief. Except I couldn't. Because rubbing away my sibling-induced erection felt far too close to other, more incestuous ideas.

So, instead, I was in a constant state of pained, semi-arousal until Betsy and I were together. Then I'd shift to an even more excruciating, completely unquantifiable level of aroused-out-of-my-mind.

To this point, however, Betsy and I had kept everything over the clothes and above the waist. My sister must have gotten a little more enthusiastic than usual, reached a little further than she ordinarily might, and bumped into my tumescent member. Considering how huge it felt between my legs -- like a fleshy, throbbing redwood sprouting in the middle of Kansas -- I'm actually kind of surprised that this had never happened before.

"Oh!" Betsy squeaked, adorably. She flinched back from me. Her eyes were wide.

"Sorry," I said, "It's not. That is, I'm not. We're."

Betsy saw me struggling but instead of reaching out to help she sat back and watched me thrash. Sweet girl, that. Glad we never went mountain climbing together, because I'd already be a black smudge on a rock by now.

"It's natural," I said, finally catching my rational mind, "A reaction to being here with a girl. Any girl."

"It's fine," Betsy said, shifting from a smirk to a friendly smile. "I understand. You can't control it."

"Right," I said, breathing normally for the first time in what felt like hours but had been less than a minute. "It's a biological response. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Betsy said. She rubbed my arm affectionately. "It's totally normal. I'm not upset, at all."

"Thanks," I said. I leaned over to kiss her, but Betsy slid back.

"It's just, well, as much as I can appreciate our happy little friend. He's kind of getting in the way of our warm-up time," Betsy said.

"Oh," I said, suddenly feeling very shy. "Well, if you want to go back to your bedroom, I understand."

"I'm not nearly warm enough for that," Betsy said, "Can't we do something about him? You know, help him settle in for the night?"

"OH!" I said, suddenly feeling even shyer. "I mean, I guess I could, um, take care of it. If you'll give me a minute."

"That's, alright, I've got it."

My baby sister's hand shot out and grabbed my dick. It was over my pajamas. Far too sudden. And my sister. But it didn't matter. It's like I was a supercharged engine waiting to leap off the starting line. And Betsy had found my accelerator.

I groaned as my sister grabbed hold. It felt better than anything I'd ever experienced. The combination of the buildup of the last week, the situation itself, even the surprise of my sister -- it made the experience feel more powerful than even intercourse. And Betsy hadn't even truly done anything yet.

My sister squeezed my member through the fabric of the pjs, tightly. Smiling sweetly the whole time.

"Feels good?" Betsy asked.

"It's a little tight," I said.

"Oops!" Betsy said. She loosened her grip. "I've never actually touched one, myself."

"You're not actually touching it," I said, before I could stop myself.

"True," Betsy said. She reached into my fly and pulled out my erect penis.

Holy fuck.

I'm not that big, I swear. I have a perfectly normal sized dick. Really. But after all the arousal I had saved up and compared to the petite hand that was holding it, I swear it looked like I'd been keeping a fleshy Eiffel Tower in my pants this whole time.

Betsy took one look at my cock and giggled with delight. "Oh wow. OK. That's awesome," she said. She slowly manipulated my cock while she dipped her head to examine it at every angle. "Those are your balls, right?"

"Yes," I said, my breath tight while my overeager sister lightly squeezed my scrotum.

"Sensitive?"

"Yes," I gasped out again.

"OK, I'll be careful," Betsy said. She gave a little shiver, and I couldn't tell if it was the usual chill or more of an incestuous thrill.

Again, my sister gripped my dick. But now it was skin on skin. For a girl that was always cold, Betsy's hand felt plenty warm wrapped around my shaft. She held it there, tight, then looked at me expectantly.

"So, when does it go down?"

"What?"

"How do I make it spit?" Betsy asked, "So we can get back to our cuddle time."

"You honestly don't know?"

"Don't be rude," Betsy said, "I've heard about this stuff, watched a few videos, but it always seems simpler than it really is."

I nodded, doing my best to keep my expression neutral. My sister was holding my cock -- I had nothing to complain about in that moment.

I wrapped my hand around my sister's and showed her, gently, how to move her fist up and down. Betsy nodded, earnestly. The perfect sexy student. After a few strokes, she showed me she got it and I leaned back.

Betsy's little pink hand ran up my thick, purpling shaft. Her quick little fingers urgently pumped my penis, her tongue buried in the corner of her mouth.

"Come on now, little man," Betsy said, "Time to go night-night."

"It's a little dry," I said.

"Oh!" Betsy said. She gave her palm a long, sloppy lick, then returned to stroking. On a scale of 1 to 10, my sister grabbing my dick through my pjs had been a 15. So, we had to be somewhere in the hundreds by now.

Betsy tucked her braid back and returned to rubbing me off. Her hand made wet sounds as she pushed and pulled. The power of the moment overwhelmed me.

It wasn't just the motion or the touch, though that was plenty. It was seeing my sister up on her knees, bent over my cock. The look of concentration on her face. The fervent little quirk of her mouth. I swear, I could have gone numb from the crown down and I still would have been about to blow my load from what my sister was doing.

"Close?" Betsy asked.

"Yuh-huh," I said. Barely able to speak.

And then I had a thought. An inspiration, really. A lightning strike of ingenuity I've yet to match in my lifetime.

"When I... When it, well, you know. It's going to go everywhere," I said.

Betsy looked at me like I was speaking ancient Celtic.

"When it spits," I said, using her term.

"There's a lot?" Betsy asked. She slowed her movements, allowing me to regain the ability to speak for a moment.

"A lot a lot," I said, "So you might want to, like, take off your sweatshirt. So, you don't get it all messed up."

What can I say? It was a desperate gamble. I mean, there were plenty of tissues not two feet away from us. But when you've got your sister stroking you, I mean, you kind of have to try to get her shirt off. That's just common sense.