Covidiots Pt. 05

Covidiots part 5

Another Covid Confession

By

de Vere

My sister smells good.

You know how everyone has their own scent? Not the nasty, sweaty one, but the one they have after a shower. An aroma that rises over the lingering smell of shampoo. We were in lockdown, so she never used perfume, and that pleased me, because I didn't want anything masking her fragrance.

Her hair had its own scent, too. Different, yet similar. That hair lay across the pillow and tickled my nose. Amazing as it smelled, her hair looks even better, although the dark robbed it of the spectacular reddish-orange color that sparkled a thousand different colors in sunlight.

The bedside clock read 4:20. I pulled her closer with a hand cupped over her breast.

Red and I are still in lockdown together.

If you have not read the previous memoirs of quarantining with my sister, Red is what I call her because it is the color of her hair. No, you won't get more details out of me. All you get is to hear what happens when you lock me up for months with a red hot MILF. Red is in her early 50s, could pass for 40, and still weighed almost the same as when she graduated from high school as a skinny teenager. The boob I held in my hand is a solid B—I eventually did the laundry specifically to check, and confirmed my guess correct. Firm like I was holding a woman half her age.

The way her small, round bum fit into the curve of my lap as we spooned is what woke me up. Nearly every night, I woke up several times, although this was only the second night I woke up with Red's tit in my hand.

Red is nature's warning color.

That night is seared into my memory. The night before, the first night we slept together, I barely slept at all. I remember that one, too, even though all we did was make out again. Only the second time in our lives we kissed. Well, third, if you count the one night we went down on each other. That was probably a month ago.

Neither of us expected things to last this long. To be honest, it was mid-May, and I had begun thinking it might be time to head back home, even thought I had nothing to do once I got there. My job was not coming back any time soon.

Things were looking up back then. They were opening beaches in time for Memorial Day, although they might not have announced it yet.

So, why did I stay? Have you read the earlier parts? If not, stop right now, go back and read them. No man in his right mind would leave.

If not for the fact that we were using each other as sex toys, lockdown would have been boring as shit. Now they were opening things back up, and it looked like we might have missed anything bad happening. But my goal was to corrupt my sister in my own image. No way was I leaving—not until my sister seduced me.

Everyone needs goals, right? Sure, I could have screwed her. It would not have been rape, because she got as wound up as me and wanted it as much as I did. It would have been simple. But Red was a challenge. All redheads are—I should know. In my life I dated several and even married one.

See, the thing about Red is she freaked out about everything we did. A month had passed since she let me bury my face between those firm, milky white thighs and rubbed my nose raw on her patch of red pubes while I licked two orgasms out of her. After that, the only thing I got for weeks was she let me watch her shower. She watched me, too. I kept biding my time.

Then we got freaky with our feet. We gave each other foot jobs. First time for both of us. If you haven't fucked a woman's feet, try it sometime. If it's your sister's feet, even better. And each time we did something, she pulled back.

"I'm not that kind of woman is all," she explained.

"You've been married four times."

"None of those times to my brother," she answered. Like that made a difference.

To be fair, if there was one thing I learned over the previous two months is that it does make a difference. Okay, I learned her huge, two-inch-across nipples are the lightest pink color imaginable, and her bush is a light pale, even lighter than the color of her eyebrows. And I learned how she moans and screams when she comes.

But I also learned how hot it is to violate a taboo. I never had any mommy issues, and although both of Red's daughters are beautiful, I never really thought about them in too inappropriate ways. Well, not very often, at least. But my sister had always been beautiful. Far back as I can remember, I loved trying to peek down her shirt, but I never thought I would actually do anything with her.

Those days in self-isolation, I thought about almost nothing else.

The only way it would work out is if she took the initiative. She had to think screwing me was her decision. Otherwise, she would resent me for talking her into it, and I really didn't want to screw things up with my sister. Literally. No, the only way it would work is if she broke down and begged for it. Only then would we not only do it, but it would not be a one-night-stand with my sis. I mean, shit, you can't break up with your sister, right? And no matter how much fun it would be, I didn't want years of hostility for taking advantage of her.

So, she must take advantage of me. My job was to convince her to do it.

It was the most fun game I ever played in my life.

We bathed together a few times after our foot jobs. Feet jobs. Whatever it is. Then she started bathing alone. Locking the bathroom door. But she still entertained me by going braless around the house, and we just hung out.

Until two nights before where we started this part.

We were sitting there watching movies. "What about something scary?"

She agreed. I picked the Kate Beckinsale movie, Haunted. I did my research. It was hot, particularly the incredible sex scene with Kate riding that guy. Then, we find out she is a ghost who died in a fire with her two brothers. The brothers she had sex with. Then she turns into the ghost of his own sister or something—it gets a little weird—and Red started asking, "Did you know about this?"

"I've never seen this movie," I said, avoiding her actual question.

"Pretty convenient, isn't it?"

"Pretty hot, if you ask me. Don't you think it is sexy?"

"Yeah, well..."

"You aren't a ghost, are you?"

"Could be. Maybe we both died of Covid already, and this is how we will spend all eternity—stuck in this house forever."

"I'm pretty sure that is what happened," I said. "Like the Mariell siblings." Those were the family who played together in the film.

"Exactly," she said.

"Well, except that they all got to screw each other before Christina killed them."

"Do you think she kept screwing the ghosts of her brothers all that time?"

"Probably. Can you imagine how pissed her brothers were when she screwed that professor right there in their house?"

"Yeah, no wonder she had to follow him home—her brothers probably threw the slut out!"

We laughed, then I asked her, "You aren't a ghost, are you?"

"How can we be sure?"

We sat a respectable distance apart on the couch, close enough to reach out and touch her, so I squeezed her thigh about halfway up. "You don't feel like a ghost."

"Christina must not have felt like a ghost," she said. "The professor didn't notice."

"Good point." I slid closer. "You feel great for a ghost."

"I bet you say that to all the dead girls you meet."

"Pretty much." We just stared at each other for a long minute. "We should make out or something."

"I've never made out with a ghost."

"Should be hot," I said before kissing her. We kissed a few times since those two nights a month ago, but not so much. Too personal. Too real. In the bathtub and in the shower, we just got down to business, foot jobs and occasionally sucking on her wet, luscious boobies. But I wanted personal. I love kissing my sister. She loves it too, even though it makes her so vulnerable. My fingers caressed her cheek. Lightly, barely touching her warm skin, thumb tenderly pushing the pink skin of her lips slowly up, then down. Following my lead, her palm cradled the side of my face, then her finger traced my lip. The green of her irises grew more intense.

Green means go!

Our lips slammed into each other with the force of our suppressed desire unleashed with the pent-up force of an avalanche. Our tongues immediately found each other's, dancing forcefully in circles, slowing and speeding up as perfectly as if we choreographed the whole thing beforehand. Our hands were all over each other. One hand dug into those lovely curls while the other stroked her hip and around to her ass, while she squeezed my chest with one and her other rubbed my thigh. In less than a minute, we had each sampled much of the other's bodies.

I honestly don't know how her top came off. Although I like to think I did it, it is almost better to think she did. Either way, it was gone and I was sucking her shoulder, a boob in each hand, and she wrapped a leg around my back and somehow straddled my lap.

She yelled at me when I started sucking her neck.

"No one will see it," I explained.

"Oh, right," she said, pulling her hair away and tilting her head to offer me her neck. I marked her with a massive hickey and she laughed. Then I kissed my way back up her neck to her cheek, her eyes, those sweet light eyebrows. This had her lit like a fuse on a stick of dynamite, and her hips ground against me. I wonder if my arousal unaided by modern medicine still surprised her? My teeth held her lower lip as she tilted her head back, hands holding onto my neck and her crotch rubbing my stick hard as a contestant on Survivor trying to light a fire.

When her tongue went into my mouth again, this time we moved slowly. Her tits must be bruised by now, but she pressed her chest into me with passionate force.

Her fingers slipped inside the top of my pants and slid down the skin of the lower part of my stomach.

Suddenly, Red was on her feet, again with the handbra, all the skin above her boobs bright red. "Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," she said, and ran off without even looking for her shirt.

What the actual fuck?

I'd picked up an adult-sized bottle of proper Irish Whiskey and poured myself three fingers while trying to figure out where it went wrong. I mean, she was really enjoying herself, right up until that unscripted exit, leaving me with a plank in my pants and a heart beating 500 times a minute. As I poured a second glass, a sound behind me made me turn.

"I swear to god I am not teasing you."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Apologizing." Dressed in another shirt now, she looked embarrassed. Probably because my pants were sticking straight out in front of me.

"I don't know what to do, or what you want. You are like that damn garden hose—either on full blast or completely shut off."

"Can I make it up to you?"

Okay, I had a few ideas how. Probably a dozen flashed through my mind. "Now you are talking."

"Not like that. But still fun—I hope." Disappointment must have shown on my face, or maybe frustration. But through that whiskey already in my brain, my goal suddenly pushed aside the anger. Steady, boy, she's close to cracking.

"Would you like to...I want you to sleep with me tonight." Very quickly, she clarified. "Not sex. Not making out, because we know what will happen then. Just holding each other."

"Just holding?"

"It's okay if you, you know—touch a little. I'd like that."

"Just don't light the fuse."

"Exactly! Holding me will be nice."

I pretty much had already decided to spend the night wanking, but even without sex, this seemed more fun. Last time I slept with my sister, we were maybe ten, twelve, something like that. Our grandparents only had 2 guest beds. Probably neither of us even knew about sex then—our parents thought we were too young to hear about it until we were older. "Yeah, that will be nice."

So that is how I slept with her that first night. Red wore PJs, and tied the drawstring tight. I know. I checked. But it was better than sleeping alone. Much better. She wanted to be spooned, and I wanted to hold her tit. We both got what we wanted. The way she kept that little ass pressed into my lap against the weapon I threatened her with all night was seriously worth the frustration.

I held onto that boob all night, and can reasonably be sure that is accurate because if I slept more than an hour, I would be shocked. And I woke up boob in hand. It really is a lovely boob, a perfect fit for my hand. Almost like we were made for each other.

Which brings us to last night.

Her first mistake was to let me pick the movie again. I upped my game. The Cement Garden is about an Irish family. After their father dies, the oldest, about twenty, tries to raise his siblings on their own. The two youngest are still kids. Well, his oldest sister is about his age and does help a lot. She's hot, too. Pretty soon, they are screwing and having a wonderful time. Subtlety is sometimes overrated. Red snuggled against me while they were banging each other, and I put my arm around her. It was the best date I have been on in at least a decade.

"I owe you for last night," she said.

She sure did. "No you don't," I lied.

"Will you hold me again? Maybe with benefits?"

"Benefits? That sounds promising."

She greeted me at her bedroom door wearing those same pink, flowery PJs as the night before, but this time she had painted on a camisole top. "Promise me you won't do anything I don't want?"

I thought there were going to be benefits! "I'm a pervert, not a rapist. Remember?"

Propped up on a pillow, she sat watching as I did the same. There we sat, side by side in bed, me wondering if she was going to offer me dental coverage or maybe a 401k.

"I know I left you hanging last night." That's okay, I rubbed one out in the shower this morning, but instead of telling her about that, I let her continue. "This is so hard for me... oh, shit. I didn't mean to say hard. It's hard for you, too."

"I cannot help that."

"Here I am, freaking out, trying to figure out what to do. We have loved each other all our lives, and suddenly we want each other, and I feel like someone who's always wanted to skydive, but as soon as I am up in the plane with a parachute strapped on, I look down at the ground a mile below and just want to fly home. But that is not fair to you."

"So, no tandem jump?"

"Maybe. More bungee jump than parachute."

"I am so fucking confused right now," I said, and that made her laugh, which at least was a good sign.

"Just take your damn pants off!" Now she was making sense! I tossed them onto a chair. "Took your Viagra, I see."

"No, that tight little top you are wearing did the trick."

"Do you like handjobs?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"There's nothing wrong with hand-jobs, right?"

"Nothing at all."

"Good, because I think you deserve one."

She made more sense by the minute. "Under one condition—take off your shirt."

Don't you just love the way boobs look when a woman pulls her shirt over her head? All high and tight, with that little bounce when they pop free out the bottom of the shirt?

"And your pants."

By then she was completely in my control, although she did not realize it. I watched the pink flannel slide down those slender, white legs, and made a point of looking down at that wispy little bush of hers, almost pink in the dim light. Then up to those round, perky breasts, those delicious rosy pokies surrounded by the most amazing, pale nipples you can imagine, although they disappeared in the low light. She enjoyed me looking at her. Enjoyed the power her body has on me. Enjoyed being lusted after.

After giving me a long look, she reached over tentatively as she might if I had a rattlesnake coiled in my lap. Her fingers held it like it might break.

"One final condition," I added, my hand caressing her thigh. "We do each other at the same time."

Her head nodded slowly as she began rubbing dryly. Her skin sent shivers up my spine, and she watched the goosebumps form on my skin. Before my fingers even reached the soft flesh between her thighs, the heat rose off her. Felt it from inches away as she slowly rubbed up and down. My fingers traced her velvety folds as tenderly as she rubbed my cock, my fingers wet even before I pulled those lips apart.

Inside, she was so wet it felt like it had in the bathtub, only much hotter, like she had a fever. I probably should have been worried she had Covid, but that did not cross my mind until later. Her button was easy to find, swollen already and waiting. Touching it made her grip me tighter, and to move her hand more quickly.

The expression on her face when I pulled her hand away from my rod with my free hand almost made me laugh out loud. Almost. Guiding it into her own lap, I took it in my dripping hand and rubbed her palm against herself. When convinced her hand was wet as mine, I pulled it back and she again wrapped it around my cock. She smiled knowingly. My sister's lubrication and her small soft hand felt like paradise. Maybe not quite as incredible as her mouth, but, then again, maybe so.

Need to compare in the future.

Three fingers inside her, she closed her eyes and her head fell back against the headboard with a slight thud as her fingers tightened and moved with more purpose. So did mine. We followed each other's lead, one intensifying, then the other. Those bottle-green eyes opened, locked onto mine as I rubbed up and down forcefully, middle finger digging a little against her clit. She was pumping me like a bicycle tire hand pump. My two middle fingers dug in and I pulled up, almost making her scream.

"Scooch down and lay back," I managed to get out, sounding like a moan. Without questioning why, she did, taking my hand with her while not missing a beat herself.

"Oh, Jesus!" I said.

"Oh god," she answered.

The holy ghost left out, I got to my knees, facing her. "Make me come on your breast," I instructed. She guided me over, rubbing my head against her boob and leaving a little silvery trail behind. She circled it around her nipple, then began flicking it back and forth against that pink eraser. No man could withstand that for long. I exploded, covering my sister's boob with pearlescent cum. Three or four times it shot out, and I fucking screamed.

I screamed her name. Later, I hoped her windows are pretty soundproof, or at least her neighbors' are, because there was no mistaking the tone of my voice. She used my cock as a paintbrush to smear me around on her breast until she was sure I had nothing left to give. "They say it's good for the skin," I assured her.

'Um-hum" she said, biting her lip as I could finally focus on her. She took a little longer, so I paid careful attention to her sounds and body movements to let me know what turned her up to 11. Her hips moved in concert with my fingers. Unable to control myself, I took her dry breast in my free hand and massaged it for a while. But when I began playing with her nipple? Well, that set her off.

She moaned and sighed and said my name over and over while I continued rubbing her as she came. That girl takes a while! I mean, she was squirming and squeezing her thighs together and gasping for two or three minutes, and I kept it up until she lay still, looking up at me.

Then, as my final act, I slowly licked her juices off my fingers one by one. You guessed it. "Finger licking good!"

Red laughed and her boobs shook and I held her naked body until she insisted I put my damn pants back on. She put her PJ pants on, too, and painted that sexy top back on her before turning off the light and spooning.

That night, I held my finger-licking-good sister's boob again as I went to sleep. And that is where we started this episode of our quarantine story, so I will wrap it up here. Don't worry—that was only May. As I write this, it is July, and I am still here at Red's house, so there is still plenty more to come.