Hallowed Sister

Shelly wagged a finger at me. "Yes, but.... we're called to be light in the darkness. We need to shed some light on what's otherwise a very dark night of the year."

"And -- how would we do that?" I asked. "It's not like we can hand out tracts at the door and expect people to be cool with it."

"No, you're right," Shelly said. "It needs to be something that fits with the theme. Something that leverages the rest of the event. Like... like -- costumes!"

"So, you mean, like Bible characters?"

"Not necessarily," she replied. "Something -- creative. Something -- catchy. Like Pastor Ralph did at his garage band's Halloween welcome party in his driveway a few years ago."

Mom spoke up. "You mean the one where he wore a gigantic box of Corn Flakes and had the plastic hatchet embedded in his temple, with fake blood dripping out?"

"Yeah, that's it," Shelly chuckled. "The infamous 'cereal killer' costume."

"So -- something nerdy," I joked.

"Well -- maybe," Shelly replied. "But symbolic. Something meaningful. Something to tell people what the church really is."

"Like 'the body'?" Mom asked. "You know -- someone is the hands, another one's the eye, another's an ear. I think I'm the hemorrhoids...."

"Mom!" Shelly exclaimed, "You definitely have nothing to do with the butt! If anything, you are the smile."

"Thanks, sweetie," Mom replied, "but that would make me part of the head, and we know that Christ is the head of the church."

"Perhaps we need a different metaphor," I interjected, "something that can actually be worn as a costume."

"Like -- like -- the bride!" Shelly nearly jumped out of her seat.

"The bride of Christ?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," said Mom. "The church is the bride of Christ. So you could have someone dressed as a bride... and someone dressed as Jesus."

"Exactly!" Shelly stood and began bouncing up and down excitedly from one foot to the other. I couldn't help but notice the flouncing under her nightshirt. It was apparent that she did not sleep in a bra, and that she hadn't bothered to dress before breakfast.

"So, um, who're we gonna get to do that?" I asked.

"Why, us, of course," Shelly blurted out, scowling with mock indignation.

"You mean you're going to dress up as Jesus, and I'm going to wear a bridal gown?" I taunted.

"Steven Michael Morton, you behave!" Mom shouted while trying to suppress a laugh.

"Okay, okay," I said. "But -- wouldn't it be a little weird for, y'know, brother and sister to play the parts of bride and groom."

Shelly got a serious look on her face, but Mom grinned.

"You two make a cute couple," she answered.

What? Okay, Mom is full of surprises. But surely she doesn't suspect....

Shelly had turned beet red.

"As long as it's not too weird for you, dear brother," she huffed, "I think the two of us can pull it off."

"Indeed you can," Mom said, standing from her seat at the table. "And I can help."

She walked across the kitchen and disappeared.

"How are you going to help, Mom?" I shouted from my seat.

"Just wait there," she hollered back from the living room.

"I think I have an idea where she's going," Shelly said tightly, sitting back down next to me.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded and flashed me a quick smile. I scanned her face for signs of regret, but I saw none.

Shelly was absolutely gorgeous, despite having come to the breakfast table without even running a brush through her lustrous reddish-brown hair. My heart lurched with affection for her, and I leaned forward for a kiss. She smiled at me and nuzzled me nose-to-nose before giving me a brief peck on the lips.

"Can't go making out in front of Mom," she whispered. "Not just yet."

Just then, I heard footsteps padding in our direction. Apparently, Shelly's ears were better than mine.

"I'm ba-ack," Mom announced in a sing-song voice.

Shelly gasped. Then I saw why. Mom was carrying a hanger that held -- her wedding dress.

"Mom!" Shelly said. "I can't ask you to let me wear that for -- a Halloween costume!"

"Oh, pshaw, sweetie. It's not like I'm ever going to wear it again."

"But -- it's from your wedding."

"Of course it is," said Mom. "And at one point, I'd hoped that you would wear it someday for real, but... somehow I don't see that happening anymore."

"You see her as a confirmed bachelorette?" I asked.

Shelly coughed, nearly choking on her coffee.

"Well, something like that," Mom answered. "I just -- don't see things the way I used to."

Okay, Mom, you're freaking me out a little bit, I thought.

"But -- even if I don't get married in a church, you might get remarried someday," Shelly declared.

"Yes -- yes, I might. And it would be in a church. But not in this gown. That was just for Dad."

I felt a lump in my throat, thinking about Dad. Man, I missed the guy. He was the best. The absolute best.

I saw a tear threatening to leak out of Shelly's eye, too. My beautiful, tender-hearted sister. I leaned into her for a brotherly hug.

"My two dear, sweet children," said Mom endearingly. "You love each other so much. And that makes me so happy. I just want you both to be happy. Together."

Mom, what are you saying? I thought.

"So, it's settled, then," she continued, "Shelly will wear my wedding gown and will be your bride, Steve."

"For the haunted house... At the church... And me dressed as Jesus...." I clarified.

"Well, there's always that," she replied.

Shelly shrugged her shoulders at me, her eyebrows raised.

* * * * * *

The haunted house was a rousing success. We had several hundred people that made their way through the scary-themed church building throughout the course of the evening, and we raised several thousand dollars for summer missions. All the youth had a great time -- it was a time of team-building among them, and Shelly was able to share in that camaraderie with a clear conscience.

Our "bride of Christ" metaphor was a hit, too. Visitors seemed to appreciate the idea that the church was really supposed to be all about love, even if the conjugal aspects of the relationship with Christ were a bit of a mystery.

When we arrived home late that Halloween night, Mom had left us a note saying she'd gone to her sister's house to help with trick-or-treaters, and that she planned to spend the night.

Hmmm.... That's a bit odd, Mom, I thought.

Shelly held my hand as we climbed the stairs together. After we walked down the upstairs hallway, I was struck with an impulse: I picked up my sister and carried her across the threshold to her bedroom.

She let out a pleased squeal, pulling the wedding train up so that I didn't trip on it.

I walked to the bed and gently deposited her on it, one arm still around her back as I sat down beside her.

"D'you think Mom suspects?" I asked.

"Nothing gets by Mom," she replied.

"And -- she... sorta seems okay with it?"

"Oddly enough, I think she's quite happy."

"But -- won't it be as difficult for her as it is for us?"

"Where God provides a will, He provides a way," Shelly answered.

"My wise and wonderful bride," I said, "My hallowed sister."

"Your sister who wants to consummate this marriage," she replied.

She reached her hand under the robe that I wore as part of my Jesus costume.

My cock quickly stiffened in anticipation of Shelly's grasp. No post-masturbation limpness to embarrass me this time. Even before she reached her destination, my flagpole was at full mast. She stroked my junk -- my penis -- through my loin cloth.

I leaned back and looked into her eyes. "I can't make this legal, Shelly -- but I pledge my heart, my all to you -- for life. In the eyes of God, I will be your husband."

Shelly's emerald eyes took on a fire of their own. "And I pledge my heart, my all to you, Steve -- for life. In the eyes of God, I will be your wife. A spiritual, emotional and physical union. No piece of paper needed."

I stood and pulled off the robe, dropping it beside me. Dressed in just a loin cloth and sandals, I reached behind Shelly to help her unzip her bridal gown. She turned to the side, easing the process for me. In no time flat, guided by instinct rather than acumen, I'd stripped it carefully off her and laid it over the seat by her dresser.

She was now clad only in white satin bra, white stockings and white satin panties. Her auburn hair was a beautiful contrast to the sea of white.

"Help me get these off," she said, a hint of a plea in her voice.

I knelt in front of her, starting to peel her stockings off as a first measure. But they made her look so sexy, I decided to leave them on. Then, chewing my lip with deliberation, I reached for the front clasp on her bra. I'd never removed one before, and she could easily detect my ineptness. "Here," she said kindly, "I can get that." Seconds later, her bra was discarded to the floor.

My mind had seen Shelly in various states of undress in its masturbation moments many times, but nothing prepared me for the reality of her naked tits. They were perfection personified. Round, creamy globes that hung as mature fruit waiting to be plucked. Dusty pink nipples, protruding with burgeoning desire atop quarter-sized areolae, waiting to be sucked. I instinctively raised my hands to hold them, feeling their softness as if measuring supermarket produce for ripeness.

And then my mouth was on them, and Shelly's hands were on my head, pulling me harder into her chest. She moaned with pleasure, making my cock stiffen uncomfortably within my loin cloth. It was the first time I'd ever experienced a painful erection. Feeling ready to burst, I stood and ripped the loin cloth from my body.

Shelly's eyes grew wide. "It's beautiful," she said, grasping my penis.

"Better than the embarrassing little leftover state you saw it in before, eh?"

She grinned a Cheshire cat grin, then leaned over to kiss the head of my dick.

"There's never anything to be embarrassed about, dear brother," she said. "We're in this together."

And, just to prove her point, she stood and stripped off her white satin panties, casting them to the floor on the other side of the bed. The sight of her trimmed triangle of auburn bush caused my cock to twitch.

"Shelly, you are.... exquisite."

"Better than your masturbation fantasies?"

"A thousand times better. Not just visually. But -- because you want me as much as I want you."

"You've got that right," she said. And to prove her point again, she grasped my hand and pushed my fingers against her dripping snatch.

"You do that to me -- your beautiful penis, silently screaming your desire for me -- even better than when I masturbated to thoughts of you," she murmured.

"You're really wet," I said. "But I think you may need to be wetter than that before we consummate this marriage."

"You -- you mean..."

"Lay back, dear sister -- and spread your legs for me."

She obeyed without hesitation. As she lay back, I kicked off my sandals before leaning in to inspect her most private place. I was struck with the thought of rose petals and artistry. God's creation in the feminine construction was truly amazing. As I took in the beauty of her vulva with my eyes just inches away, my nose caught a whiff of her jasmine aroma. I was ready to touch her treasures.

I didn't really know what I was doing, but I knew that it was important for a girl to be well-lubricated. Especially for her first time.

I leaned my face against her pussy, and I pushed my tongue against her folds. Then I licked up and down her crease. Tentatively, I stuck a finger inside her sopping slit. And then, with my tongue and lips, I found it. Her little nub, protruding out of its little perch at the top of her folds.

I began gently sucking her clit, accompanied by a finger probing her furrow. I increased my pace on both, feeling a feral desire to bring her to orgasm. I savored the scintillating scent of her arousal, the tart taste of her womanly juices.

I lost track of time as I sought her bliss. And it dawned on me that I was receiving as much pleasure as I was giving.

"Steve -- Steve!" she cried out. "You're -- you're gonna make me... cum!" Her hands held my shoulders, pressing my face against her most intimate place.

I felt her pussy flexing, then pulsing, then finally spasming as she thrashed against my face and finger. A minute or so later, her body completely relaxed.

I climbed up on the bed beside her, nuzzling her cheek with my pussy-juice-coated face.

"Steve," she said, "that was wonderful. Now, I need you inside me."

"Give me 60 seconds," I said. "First, I need to cherish your beautiful behind."

"My -- what?"

"Your sweet little ass, dear sister. You can't imagine what it does to me with your little black volleyball shorts on. But I have to see it with them off."

Shelly giggled at that, but she rolled over obligingly.

I was once again mesmerized. Her toned, muscular thighs -- peeking out from above her stockings -- were sculpted seamlessly into two softer, rounded, luscious mounds of precious, creamy, flawless flesh. Her ass was as exquisite as the rest of her.

I trailed kisses up her thighs while massaging her ass cheeks. Then, pausing at the juncture of her thighs, I blew a gust of air across her pussy lips. She flinched and smacked my arm playfully. Then I licked the first two fingers of my right hand and carefully began pushing them into her pussy from behind. I continued to traverse the line of kisses past her thighs and up onto her butt cheeks.

"So lovely," I sighed, in between kisses on her ass. My fingers continued to probe her slit.

"I'm glad you like it, Steve," Shelly whimpered. "The kisses are wonderfully sweet. You make me feel so treasured. But I really need something more than your fingers inside me."

She didn't have to ask twice. I helped her roll back over so we could face each other. Perhaps not too surprisingly, our first time together would be in the missionary position. That's not to say we'd be limited to that going forward.

I kissed her deeply as I positioned my body above hers. She reached down and grasped my cock, guiding it to her blissful opening. She slid my glans up and down her nether lips, coating it for lubrication.

I don't know what actual heaven will be like, but I now know what coital heaven feels like. Her dewy petals gently grasped my penis as it penetrated them, filling me with euphoria as I gazed into her eyes and saw her smile. She kissed me and sighed with satisfaction.

Her lubrication from my earlier oral ministrations and her orgasmic release let my cock slide toward her tight tunnel until it reached the barrier.

"Do it, Steve!" Shelly said, and pulled me by my buttocks to eliminate any argument. My stiff rod pierced the barrier, and her body seemed to wince with the pain of the loss of her virginity.

I immediately suppressed my urge to thrust, giving her time to recover and adjust. Just moments later, her body relaxed into mine, and her vaginal walls expanded to accommodate my girth.

"I love you," we both said simultaneously. She smiled and nuzzled my cheek with her nose.

We started off slowly, simply enjoying the deeper level of connectedness than we'd ever before experienced. The physical connection took us to a new experiential plane, for sure, but the emotional and spiritual connection between the two of us exploded to a new level as well.

I found myself pushing deeper inside her, feeling like I just couldn't get close enough to my beloved sister. She pushed back against me, pulling me deeper into her again by my ass cheeks. Our pressure against each other eventually became kinetic rather than calisthenic, turning into more of a mutual thrusting motion.

We quickly found a satisfying pace, building from the euphoria of love to the craving of sexual release. Before long, the pace of our rutting became frantic. Our primal thrusts were leading us past the point of no return. Seeing her tits bouncing to the beat of our coital friction was about to send me over the edge. And then a thought struck me, and I slowed my thrusts.

"Do we need -- protection?" I asked.

"No -- no, Steve. I want you to cum inside me. If God gives us a baby, then His will be done."

I was overwhelmed with my baby sister's trust in me and in God. And her words of encouragement -- I want you to cum inside me -- did me in. I sped up again, and within a half-dozen thrusts I was blasting her womb with spurt after spurt of my milky semen. I had never before known such ecstasy.

Shelly wrapped her legs around my upper legs, pulling my cock deeper inside her. I held her in my arms and kissed her with all the adoration in my heart.

As we both came down from our orgasmic highs, I rolled over with my deflated dick still embedded in my sister's warm vagina. She kept her legs wrapped around me, trapping my cock inside her as we lay pubic bone to pubic bone, with her on top.

"What's on your mind?" she asked as she grinned down at me.

"You mean besides these beautiful breasts hanging down in my face, waiting to be sucked again?"

"Well, that's a good start...."

"You mean besides this warm, wet, willing, delicious sheath of yours that fits my rock-hard manhood like a glove -- sorta like it was made just for me?"

She smiled. "Okay, now you're not playing fair," she said as my dick twitched within her.

"You really wanna know what's most on my mind?" I asked.

"Yeah, I really do," she said.

"It's that this whole haunted house thing was such a gift from God."

"But -- it made us argue. Like we've never argued before. It made me feel -- so alone...."

"I know. It made me hurt for you. And -- it made me realize that I couldn't stand to hurt you. That I -- truly loved you. And it sent us on a journey that taught us we're not perverts and hopeless sinners for loving each other the way we do."

Shelly sat up, laying her hands on my chest as she straddled me from on top. My now-burgeoning cock was still lodged in her tight, tempting pussy. She began to rock against my hardness.

"Oh, we're sinners, all right -- and maybe a little pervy," Shelly answered with a smile, her body shivering with the excitement of the base of my penis pushing against her clit. "Sinners, but not hopeless. Sinners saved by God's grace."

"Amen to that!" I cried out, thrusting up into her like a jackhammer as we spiraled together into a nighttime of passion, and a lifetime of love.