Cold Sister

"Of course I do, you're my sister."

"Not love. Love."

"I don't think so," I said, after some consideration. To be honest it wasn't all that clear cut. Love isn't a switch that's either on or off. There are all sorts of in-between spots we don't have words for. I didn't feel about Betsy what I thought love would feel like (I wasn't naive enough to think I'd ever been in love with any of my previous girlfriends), so I figured I was probably OK saying 'no.'

"Right," Betsy said, "It's functional. You're keeping me warm, that's all."

And so I let my little sister triumph. Like I said, I was rooting for her to win. Besides, I was moving out of the house in a few months anyway. So even if things were progressing a bit further than they should, it wouldn't matter for too much longer. What's a bit of oral between blood relatives, after all?

Betsy's smiled, warmly, but then she shivered. "Good. Because I need another dose before I freeze to death."

We both lay back on the bed. I pulled the covers over us. Betsy nestled in the crook of my shoulder. I tilted my head and kissed her. I assumed, if it was all transactional as my sister claimed, that she would start pushing me to produce my precious fluids. Instead, though, Betsy lay back and let us share in each other.

I tried to think of a time when I'd felt this connected, this safe, with another human being. I'd been close with Melissa, yes, but it was only a physical adjacency. My previous girlfriends had been high school trifles or after party hookups, nothing even worth considering. This was on a totally different scale from either of those experiences.

Because it was Betsy, the girl I'd grown up with, we already had that emotional connection. I wasn't caught up in my concerns because our relationship was already well-defined. Concurrently, that closeness should have also made the physical aspect more upsetting. But whatever unnatural, naughty feelings our make out session brought out in me, they only amplified the experience. Heightened it. Like the difference between acoustic and electric. Everything was just more.

My little sister slid her hand down my bare chest and straight down the front of my bottoms. She grabbed my dick, commanding, and hummed into my mouth.

"There's my new best buddy," she said, smiling at me. "And he seems like he's more than ready to come out and play. You want to do that big guy? Give me your special gift?"

Without waiting for a response, Betsy pushed my pajamas down. I kicked them the rest of the way off. Now I was completely naked in bed with my baby sister, my dick sticking up hard as ever.

I reached for Betsy's top, but she slipped past me, grabbed my dick, and steered it straight into her mouth. At that point, I couldn't complain about our outfit imbalance. She could have kicked me in the shins and I wouldn't have said a word.

My sister didn't just suck my dick, she worked at it. Put the job in blowjob I suppose. She wasn't satisfied to repeat the same actions from before, either. She added all new possibilities and permutations -- kissing, licking, nibbling -- like trying to figure out every potential trigger. All the while smiling, happy and hungry. Like I'd introduced her to the best thing in the world. As if she was the one getting pleasure rather than giving it.

Finally, though, I gave out.

"Bets, I'm almost..."

"MmmHm," Betsy said, as if my words were obvious and inevitable. I guess because they were.

I groaned, loud, as my spend shot into my sister's waiting mouth. She grunted and coughed on the first blast, but happily gulped the rest as I emptied myself. The ecstasy was wonderfully familiar, yet freshly intense.

Betsy sat back on her haunches and wiped her chin. Then she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tight.

"So good," I gasped out, still coming down from that incredible precipice.

"So warm," Betsy said, almost a moan as she rocked herself back and forth. "I swear I can feel it like a fireball in my belly."

I felt so many emotions, staring up at my sister, it was almost as overwhelming as my orgasm. I knew I wanted to show her how good she'd made me feel. How amazing it was to be the object of her efforts. I could only settle on a single thing.

Before Betsy could react, I leapt up and tackled her to the bed. She shrieked (hopefully not too loudly) in surprise as both of us bounced on the mattress. I held her body tight in my arms and began lightly kissing her lips. Her face, her neck.

Betsy was so overwhelmed, she seemed unable to select a reaction -- so she had them all. My sister laughed, ticklish. Screeched, uncomfortable. Groaned, aroused. Words barely able to surface as I worshipped whatever exposed skin I could find. There wasn't much.

"Bran, what are you...?"

I didn't give her a chance to finish her thought and reached down to the waistband of her sweatpants. I grabbed whatever cloth I could get hold of and ripped it down her legs. Just like that, Betsy was bare from her waist down to her knees. I was staring at my baby sister's naked sex.

Betsy gasped. She tried to close her legs, but I wouldn't let her. That little glimpse -- her thighs and a bit of her calves -- felt like a forbidden sight. They were thin but not skinny, well-muscled from running yet quite feminine. Her skin so soft and almost creamy. But what was between her thighs was what held my focus.

My little sister's pussy was divine. Fat, outer lips practically ruddy with arousal. Precious pink folds barely hidden behind that, fighting to flower out. A tuft of light brown hair at the top, surprisingly thick and full.

"Brandon?" Betsy asked. Her voice thrummed with excitement and nervousness.

"I want to return the favor," I said.

"I told you, I tried that, it doesn't make me warmer," Betsy said.

"Don't care," I replied.

In one violent motion, I shoved my head between my sister's legs. Nose, mouth, tongue all pressed into her pussy. Betsy was dripping wet. Her scent heady. Her flesh soft and pliant. It didn't seem fair to compare my sister's vagina to another girl's. It's not like she could control it; this wasn't something that she'd achieved. And yet her sex was so amazing next to any I'd ever experienced, I almost felt bad for my exes.

I matched my sister's earlier enthusiasm with my own actions. I licked at her with abandon, hoping that if I moved fast enough, she would forget about her misgivings. Sure enough, I felt Betsy's legs go from stiff with stress to tight with desire, wrapping like a python around my head. Heard the low groans she let out as she felt someone lick her most intimate place for the first time.

Brothers aren't supposed to see their sisters' pussies. They certainly aren't allowed to know what they taste like. And feeling what happens when your sister cums, well that's definitely out. But I didn't care. I worked Betsy to her peak like I would die if I didn't.

Betsy's legs snapped so tight I saw stars. She arched her back, letting out a high-pitched squeal. The kind of sound that would set the neighborhood dogs on high alert. It sounded almost pained, like the pleasure was being wrung out of her. Squeezed out of every cell.

Finally, my sister fell back into the bed. Gasping.

I managed to extricate myself from her legs, untangling them like picking myself out of the wreckage. Betsy lay back on the bed. Her face was cherry red. Her eyes unfocused. She looked at me and started to laugh.

"You're dripping," she said.

I felt around my face. It was sticky, like I'd buried my whole head in a pot of honey, Winnie-the-Pooh-style.

"I liked it," I said.

"Me too," Betsy said, oddly wistful.

She sat up, looking at some spot behind me. Finally, her golden caramel eyes seemed to center. She sat up and pulled her pants back on. Wrapped her arms around me tight.

"Thanks, Bran," she said, "You didn't have to do that for me."

"I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed what you're doing for me," I said, "How wonderful you make me feel. Not just the orgasms."

"Well now I know for sure," Betsy said, "That was incredible. Like nothing I've ever experienced. I don't exactly feel warmer than before, but I'm less cold. If that makes sense."

I nodded. I held my sister close as I could. She kissed me, her mouth smelling of my spend. My own still dripping with hers.

"I should probably go," she said as she slipped out of my arms. "While I can."

I nodded. Feeling my sister cum around me had been almost as intense as my own peak. Sleep overtook me so fast, I don't even remember Betsy closing the door behind her.

*

I assumed that we'd reached equilibrium. That this was as far as we would go. There was no place left to escalate, so I figured we'd stay there at the top till it was time for me to move out and for us to move on.

As if to reinforce all that, the next few days passed and little changed. Our new routine slowly solidified. Betsy would sneak into my bed after hours and suck me off. I would lick her to completion. We'd kiss, snuggle, and call it a night. Betsy continued to prove that she was queen of the cocksuckers. And as I learned my sister's body, I showed that own my cunnilingual skills could conquer her just as easily.

My sister had finally found a way to warm herself up. And she seemed more than willing to allow me to return the favor afterwards. But what I'd thought of as hard, craggy stone was actually made of gelatin. And the supposedly solid structure of our relationship was for more pliant than I'd pictured.

Game 7 of the NBA Finals was on a Friday night, and we settled down to watch. I made a bowl of popcorn and Betsy snuggled in by my side.

"Are you sure you don't want to go upstairs?" I asked.

"No, that can wait till later," Betsy said, "I'm invested in my orange team."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't what they were called. I honestly didn't care who won, I was mostly watching because I liked basketball. But since Betsy had adopted 'the oranges' I guessed that meant I had to root for the 'the greens' since that's how human nature works. If you choose "A" I must take "B." And we wonder why we all can't get along.

The game was close. At the half, my verdant fellows were leading by a mere two points over Betsy's mandarin men. I got up to use the bathroom and got us a couple sodas. My parents, who'd barely been speaking since the so-called 'cookie-gate' both waved goodnight and went upstairs. I flicked off the light before sitting back down for the second half.

"This is nice," Betsy said, and I agreed with her. With other girlfriends, I'd be thinking about how to get in their pants right now. Or so worried about what they were thinking in the moment that I couldn't focus. I'd be in my own head, in other words.

With Betsy, this felt easy. Natural. I didn't worry about what was to come, I just enjoyed what we had together.

All this time, I'd been thinking that I wanted a relationship that was about more than sex. I hadn't realized that my own attitudes and assumptions were part of the problem. Now that I felt what it was like, to have a closeness that went beyond the carnal, I realized it was even better than I'd imagined.

Then my sister took off her shirt.

Well, that's not exactly what happened. As the third quarter began, my green guys (my sister had me thinking that way and now I couldn't stop) made the first basket. Betsy watched it happen and made a little 'hmph' noise.

She reached for the bottom of her hoodie and pulled it off. She shook her long, plaited braid back and forth as she tossed her grey top to the side. It wasn't that revealing. My little sister had on a long sleeve shirt under that, and she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. I assumed she was getting more comfortable.

Her oranges replied with a basket of their own. Betsy looked at me and gestured with her hands. What she wanted was abundantly clear. I paused for a moment, then shrugged. Was I really going to argue about this?

I reached for my own top and took it off. Unlike my sister, I wasn't layered at all, so it left me bare-chested. Betsy gave me a satisfied-looking smile.

Again, the greens went down the court and scored. This time, Betsy reached under the blanket and shimmied her butt. I couldn't see anything, but a moment later, her grey sweatpants fell in a limp pile on the tile floor of the TV room.

Stupidly, I turned to my sister. "If we keep going like this, we're going to be naked pretty quick," I said.

"And that's a problem because why?"

She had a point there.

The oranges tried to answer once again, but the greens got a steal and dropped a layup the other way. I stared at my sister expectantly and she didn't disappoint. She took off her long sleeve shirt, revealing the bright, scarlet straps of what I assumed was another conservatively cut bra.

I couldn't see for sure because the blanket was there, but there was a very good chance that my sister was wearing nothing but underwear now. Amazing to think after everything we'd done, but if I moved the covers, it would be the closest to naked that I'd ever seen her. And boy-oh-boy did I want to see that.

It wasn't just hormones (although yeah, lots of that too). I had this intense curiosity about Betsy's body, all only amplified by the partial reveals I'd seen so far. I knew she was in good shape because of all the running she'd done in high school. I had a sense of her sexiness because of the glimpses I'd gotten to that point. But the full reveal, the total package, had yet to be uncovered. And now I wanted it so badly it hurt.

But Betsy's team went on a run. And in short order the imbalance tipped the other way. I went from mostly clothed to completely naked, while my sister was still quite covered. She didn't even move the blanket -- she could have been wearing a full snowsuit under there. I could never be quite sure.

It wasn't fair. Betsy had already seen me completely naked, and far more exposed than this. Although, I have to admit there was something quite exciting about being bare on the couch. The leather cushions were sticky, and the room felt oddly cool, but the thought of being caught made me nervous in a way that also turned me on.

The game went to a TV timeout. I didn't know what would happen when they came back. I had to hope, desperately, that my team would score, and I'd at least earn the hint that my sister was stripping down. Would she take away the blanket? Or would she tease me even more?

And what would happen if Betsy's team kept going? I had nothing left to take off. What would she demand next?

I don't know why I assumed my sister had a plan for all this. That she wasn't winging it the same way I was. Somehow, I was convinced Betsy had the path cleared, and all I had to do was follow the way. Although, based on what happened next, maybe she did.

Before the ads could end, Betsy tossed the blanket off both of us. She stood. As I'd suspected, my little sister was down to a cherry red bra and matching panties. Both of them were so conservative, covered so much, that it didn't make for much of a reveal.

I saw Betsy's taut tummy, the little divot of her bellybutton. Her shoulders and hips. Nothing all that untoward. Less than you'd see in a bathing suit; only made enticing by the fact that I knew it was her underwear.

Yet the act of it felt so brazen I could barely breathe. I didn't notice my own nakedness, my dick standing so straight it could warn ships from the shore. I was so entranced by what my sister was offering.

I grabbed the remote and switched off the TV. Betsy grinned at me. A giddy, goofy kind of happy that was right on the edge of wild.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked, continuing my tradition of saying dumb things at the oddest moments.

"I'm sure I'll be warm soon enough," Betsy said.

Suddenly, the thought occurred to me. My prize, my naked sister, was very much within reach. All I had to do was catch her. I leapt off the couch like a predator. Betsy's lizard brain reacted. She shrieked and jumped back.

"Quiet!" I hissed. But I didn't stop chasing.

Betsy scampered up the stairs and I scrambled after her. When we got to the top, I lunged and got told of her ankle. My sister tumbled to the ground, and I fell with her, my elbows and knees scraping on the carpet like it was made of little knives.

Both of us paused mid-chase. We looked back at my parents' bedroom, our eyes wide with worry. The light under the door stayed dark. The hallway remained quiet.

Betsy lay on the ground, snickering and gasping at the same time. I used my grip on her ankle as purchase and pulled myself up closer to her.

"Brandon," she said my name like a prayer, "Bran. Please."

I couldn't tell if she was pleading with me to stop or begging me to keep going. I interpreted it the way I wanted. I felt the muscles of my sister's legs under my fingertips. The wondrous curves of her calves and thighs. Smooth, soft, yet also strong. Responsive. Again, almost hot to the touch. Where did the heat go that she never felt it, herself?

My hands reached the gusset of her underwear. I'd gone here before, quite a few times now. Yet something about it still felt forbidden. I hooked my fingers into the material and slowly pulled it down. Practically daring my sister to stop me. She didn't. She just watched, panting. Brown eyes wide with something like shock. Yet also an unmistakable hint of hunger.

I had Betsy's panties down to her knees before she could say anything. But it wasn't the word I was expecting.

"Bedroom," Betsy said. I nodded.

We stayed on the ground, crawling to my room, and dragged ourselves inside. I closed the door behind me with my foot. Betsy stayed on the floor, lying back on the beige carpet. She slipped her bottoms all the way off.

I made my way over to her. I kissed my sister's ankle and made my way up her legs. Like following a twisting road to the top of a mountain. Betsy spread her legs and bent her knees. Open and welcoming. Readily anticipating what I'd already done with her.

But I didn't stop at her waist. Didn't even pause at her pussy. In fact, I skipped it entirely. You'd never think a kiss on a stomach could mean so much, but my sister gasped as my mouth climbed ever higher. Distantly, I felt my hard cock drag past Betsy's knee. I barely even noticed it.

Instead, I made my way determinedly to my prize. Betsy's bright red bra dazzled in the little bit of light sneaking through my window. There was a little bow in the center between the cups. I reached around to her back. Tucked my fingers in the hooks. One, two, three, four -- I popped them till the bra snapped away in my fingers.

Betsy stared at me, bouncing between confused and bemused. I pulled the bra away with my teeth and dropped it to the side. There she was. My sister. Finally, fully naked before me.

"Stand," I commanded. Maybe it was the tone of my voice or perhaps my sister understood the magic of the moment, what she was sharing with me. She did exactly as I asked.

Betsy stood up straight before me. I could not control my gasp as I spied her, truly, for the first time.

I knew my sister was attractive. I had the sense that she was sexy. But this was beyond my comprehension. Betsy was perfect. Flawless. Something that should not exist in reality; should only be in sculptures or sketched in books.

The breadth of her shoulders and the flare of her hips. The ratio of bicep to forearm to fingers. Hip to knee to ankle. The way her brown hair -- twisted in that long, cute braid -- hung down over her shoulder and kissed the tops of her breasts. That cute, shy smile that spread across her face and filled her dark, lustrous eyes.

Even Betsy's imperfections only enhanced what she had. Her stomach wasn't completely flat, but cutely rounded. Her arms were a bit too skinny, her shoulders slightly too wide. Her breasts -- magnificent, pointed orbs capped with light pink nipples -- were a little oversized for the rest of her body. Full and supple; nipples like sharp, strawberry nubs.