I Need to Process This Ch. 02

"Six months ago. About." She gave a humourless smile. "He's traded me in for a newer version. Left me for a 25-year-old trader whose tits don't sag, and who's got no wrinkles." She finished her wine, put down her glass and stared at me: there was that look again - slightly defiant, but with tears in her eyes.

I took a pace towards her and wrapped her in my arms for the second time that day. "He's a fucking moron," I said quietly into her ear. "I haven't seen you for a dozen years or more, but I can tell you, you're even more beautiful now than you were before, and you were bloody gorgeous then." I drew her closer and she lowered her head to my shoulder, crying softly, and she put her arms round me. Again, her smell, her softness, her closeness had the predictable effect, but this time my cock came up even harder, and I could feel it prodding into her stomach.

I pulled my groin away from her so that I was no longer pressing myself hard against her, although I could still feel her belly on my cock. She let go of me and stepped back. I muttered that I was sorry and she shrugged, shaking her head slightly, looking downwards. "It's OK. It's men. Not all men. Just... Anyway, don't worry about it."

Again, the spell was broken and intimacy between us had gone, blown away into the night. And whatever she said, I was going to worry about it. "So no," she said with a humourless smile, "Doug's not coming. He doesn't even know that Mum is dead yet, not that he'll be too worried." She took a deep breath and stepped further back. "Anyway, I'd better be going. Lots to do tomorrow. Shall we meet up here in the morning? Nine-ish?"

I mumbled my assent, and she leant forward and kissed my cheek. "Thanks for being kind to me today, Davie. It means a lot." And with that, she was gone.

The silence after she'd left was deafening. I was kind of relieved that she'd thanked me for being kind, because without that I would have been appalled at what had happened. I was still worried about it, though: it was bad enough having private fantasies about Mel, but actually getting an erection when I was trying to comfort her was dreadful. It had happened twice within few hours, and her saying "It's men" showed she must have felt at least one of them. It would have been impossible not to. Oh, for fuck's sake!

I grabbed the wine bottle and poured the last half-glassful and drank it slowly. I'd have to apologise to her, promise not to let it happen again, and from now on behave myself and keep my fantasies to myself. Mind you, once I'd stripped off, had a shower and climbed into bed, the thoughts of Mel came washing over me again. I'd had my arms around her because she was sad, so maybe that is why she was so meltingly soft, but the sensation of holding her was utterly wonderful, and it all came flooding back.

Immediately I was hard, and as I closed my eyes, I could again feel her body, smell her hair, sense once again the soft fullness of her breasts, her thighs against mine, my cock prodding into her stomach. It was all so real, and I lasted no more than a minute before the exquisite relief came and I shot cum all over my belly. But as soon as I had finished, the full horror of what had happened during the day came back to me.

I buried my head in my pillow, groaning out loud at the thought. No use, I would just have to avoid holding her again, because I knew I was going to get hard every time and if I did it a third time, Mel would probably knee me in the balls. Or cut them off. I'd apologise to her tomorrow. I just had to find the right time.

In fact, the following day was really busy. We rang the solicitor and arranged to meet him the following day, then we went and had a look at possible venues for the post-funeral buffet lunch. After that it was back to the house for more sorting out, so that by early evening, we were well on top of the various things we had to do.

We had talked about cooking one of Mum's frozen meals -- she had lots - but decided to leave that until for another day, and instead went out for something to eat. There was an Italian place not far from Mel's hotel, so we drove there in Mel's car -- I'd walk home after the meal -- then strolled over to the restaurant and settled down at a corner table. It was quite early, so it wasn't crowded.

We ordered drinks, and there followed a slightly awkward silence that ended when we both started speaking at once and then went into one of those "Sorry, after you," "No, after you" exchanges. Mel insisted that I speak first, so I took a deep breath and said "We, erm, well it's embarrassing for me, and I guess, well, for you as well, but maybe not." Hardly the most articulate way to discuss not-very-random boners. Another deep breath, and I continued, "The thing is, I just wanted to talk about, you know, about the elephant in the room... about, you know..."

Before I could apologise for my involuntary erections, Mel said, "Yes. It's something we need to talk about, and I've been trying to find the right time, ever since, you know, the hospital." She had tears in her eyes, and I was completely confused: did I have a hard-on at the hospital? "It's more difficult because you've been so nice, and I know I don't deserve it, the way I treated you."

Where had this come from? Had she really not felt my erections? It felt massive to me, but maybe my dick's not that big? She paused for a moment, looking down at the wine glass in her hand. I waited - all will be revealed, I thought. She took a sip of wine and said, "I was shitty to you when we were growing up, and I know that I hurt you a lot. Especially when... when... you know. I'm really sorry about everything, but especially about that."

Oh, that. I looked at her and smiled. I hope my relief didn't translate into smugness. "Honestly, Mel, don't be. OK, so it was a bit embarrassing at the time, but I don't think it harmed me -- it was no more than what I did to myself if you think about it. I got over it. The really sad thing is that we didn't really talk for all those years, when I should have been there for you. All it would have taken is a phone call from me, but I wasn't man enough."

The waiter loomed over us, and we quickly ordered before carrying on. I said, "I feel dreadful because Mum tried so hard to get me to speak to you, but I never did, and I'm sorry for that. She'd love to have seen us out together like this."

Mel smiled and said, "Yes, it would have been good. As you said on Saturday, it was good she saw us together before she died." She paused. "I was shitty to you about that as well, wasn't I? I am sorry, so sorry for everything I did to you. I promise I'll try to make it up to you. I promise not to be shitty again. Promise. Mind you, I might break my promise, but if I do, remind me."

I reached out and stroked the back of her hand. "It's in the past, Mel. I was just as nasty to you, but we're not going to let it happen again. We need to stay close, for both our sakes. So, forget it. Yes?"

She picked up her glass, raised it slightly towards me and said, "I won't forget it, but yes, here's to us. We need to be there for each other." We chinked glasses, and Mel said "So how about you? You're still not married?"

"Nope," I said with a smile. "Still resolutely single."

She stared at me with a slight frown. "Umm. Do you mind me asking? Er, are you, well, not that it matters of course, but are you gay?"

I laughed, probably too loudly, and said, "Me? Gay? Hell no! I've had a few girlfriends, just nothing special." Another pause.

She looked unsure of whether to continue, but took a breath and said, "OK. It's just, with you not being married and so on. And at the wedding, I know it was a long time ago, but you didn't really dance with any of the girls. And Mum never mentioned any girlfriends. Then yesterday, you said you had spoken to your partner, Jim you said, to say you'd have to stay another week. I mean, what's that about?"

I laughed. "Jim's my business partner. Jim the nerd. We work together and make money." I laughed. "Even if I were gay, I wouldn't fancy him. He's ugly as sin!"

She smiled, but looked slightly puzzled. "Ah, OK. But when you held me, yesterday, when I was being silly, it felt so unthreatening, so natural. I mean, I know it should be like that, you being my brother and so on, but it felt like you were gay."

I shook my head and laughed. "Well, that's good. You obviously didn't feel my erection?" Fuuuuck! Where did that come from? Where's the delete button? "I'm really sorry, Mel. So sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I apologise. I'm really sorry."

Mel sat back in her seat, and looked down at her glass. I thought she was going to throw her wine all over me, but instead she said in a serious voice, "It's OK, Davie. No problem." She took another sip of the wine and looked at me, leaning forward with her arms on the table. "But maybe not talk about that? It's not a problem, honestly it's not. It's just a bit of a surprise, and I need to kind of, well, I need to process it. OK?" I nodded, and she said in a bright, somewhat brittle voice, "Change the subject, eh? Good idea?"

"Yes. Very good idea." As I said this, the waiter -- with impeccable timing -- arrived with our food, giving me time to hide my blushes. Once he'd served and gone away, I asked Mel if she wanted to talk about Doug, and what had happened there. "No problem if not," I said, "but just to talk about it might help." Anything to take the subject away from me and my over-active cock. Fuck!

"There's nothing to talk about, really," said Mel. "He just stopped loving me, assuming he ever really loved me in the first place." Mel paused, looking at her plate and moving a piece of avocado around. "Well, it was OK to start with, but it got worse five or six years ago. Six. We'd been trying for kids, unsuccessfully, and we went for tests. You know, sperm count and so on. And... Well..."

She put down her knife and fork and wiped her eyes with a tissue. "They found out I had a problem with my ovaries. It meant I couldn't have children. Doug's sperm was a hundred percent. You know, all man." She looked at me and gave a humourless smile, then shook her head, almost angrily. She didn't speak for a few minutes, and I put my hand out and stroked the back of hers. She looked up, smiled, and squeezed my hand.

"I'm really sorry Mel," I said. I waited a moment before asking, "So what happened?"

"He, well, he was sympathetic to start with, but it bothered him, especially as his mother and father kept going on about it, asking when they would hear the patter of little feet and all that shit. He didn't want to tell them. Like he was ashamed. You know, the biblical thing? The barren wife?"

"Cowardly prick," I snorted. "He didn't deserve someone as lovely as you."

She smiled. "Thanks, Davie." She sipped her wine, and waved her hand to one side, almost dismissively. "It wasn't how he saw it. Then, about three months later, the doctors said I should have a hysterectomy, to prevent any longer-term problems. And that's what they did, and that made it final."

"I didn't know, Mel. I am so sorry. I had no idea. Mum never mentioned it."

"No, I know. She didn't know. I didn't tell her. Not sure why. Maybe I was ashamed as well. But nobody knew, and Doug and I never talked about it. You're the only person I've ever told. Sorry for burdening you."

"It's not a burden, Mel, absolutely not. I'm glad you told me. I just wish I had known before. Just wish we could have talked about these things."

She sighed deeply. "Yeah, it would have been good to have someone to talk to. Someone nice." She looked down at her plate, and shook her head. "I'd like to have talked to you. I mean, it's good to tell you now. Anyway, now you know." She looked up and smiled at me and nodded. "Now you know."

"You really are incredible, Mel. So brave, and you handled it all on your own." I reached out and squeezed her hand again. "That never happens again, OK?" I said urgently. "You don't do stuff on your own. You've always got me, understand? Always."

She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. "Yeah. That's good." She laughed. "Even if you're not gay."

We finished our meal, talked some more about Doug and his new 20-something child-bride, about my business and my non-gay partner Jim, and then we walked slowly back to Mel's hotel. Saying goodnight could have been an issue, but Mel simply put her arm round me, kissed me quickly on the cheek and said "Thanks, Davie, thanks for everything. It's been lovely. Take care and sleep well." Then she waved, and walked into the hotel before I had the chance to say anything.

The following day we had a meeting with Mum's solicitor, an elderly man called Barrett whom she had been using all her married life. Mum had planned it all out, including paying his bill several years previously. "There was an annual augmentation," he said, "an arrangement which suited us both. Of course," he smiled mordantly, "I must now start to earn my keep."

He was quite sharp, though, and to be fair he had the initial paperwork sorted out, ready for us to deal with. It took an hour to get everything out of the way, at the end of which Barrett announced, rather portentously, that we should convene the following week for the reading of Mum's will: "On Thursday afternoon, if I may suggest, unless that coincides with the obsequies?" I'd seen that word written down before, but never heard it used, so I just shook my head. We didn't know exactly when the funeral would be, but we'd keep Thursday afternoon free. Barrett nodded slightly to show his approval.

After a quick lunch, we went back to the house to carry on with sorting things out. Mel seemed happier much today, and pottered around humming to herself, dealing with different rooms. Meanwhile, I had managed to hack Mum's computer -- not difficult, given that I'd set it up for her -- and put together an email list for the funeral invitations.

We stopped at around seven and, having discussed and discounted the idea of going out for a meal again, we ate one of Mum's fish pies that I had defrosted earlier in the day. We raided mum's collection of wine, and drank a very nice Pinot Grigio with the fish. We'd cleared the plates away, and were sitting on the sofa in silence, listening to music, when Mel turned to me and said, "So can I ask you? You know, what you said yesterday about getting, sort of excited, when you gave me a hug?"

Bloody hell, this was going to be so embarrassing. "Yes, Mel, I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's OK, Davie. Just a bit of a shock, that's all. You know, after what's gone on before?"

I looked down at my wine glass. What do I say now? I looked back at her, and in the half-light she looked utterly beautiful. I took a deep breath. "To tell you the truth Mel, I usually get an erection when I think about you. And I think about you a lot."

Her eyes were open wide, and once more I thought she was going to sling the dregs of her wine all over me. "Gosh, so you're definitely not gay!" She smiled, sadly. "It's a pity we're brother and sister, isn't it?"

I laughed. "Yeah. I wish you'd been telling the truth when you told everyone I was adopted."

"I suppose so. It is kind of flattering, though. Maybe it shouldn't but it makes me feel like a woman. More of a woman. Makes me feel attractive." She laughed. "So, when do you think about me? Or shouldn't I ask?"

"When I masturbate. I think about you when I wank. Think about you wanking me." Did I just say that out loud? Oh, come on, get a fucking grip, Davie.

There was a ringing in my ears and I waited for her to come flying at me with a kitchen knife. But instead she just cocked her head on one side and said "Really? You think of me? Doing it to you? I know when, you know... but that was a long time ago. Isn't that a bit, well, weird, to think about it now? You know, your sister doing it?"

"I think we should stop talking about it, Mel. I'm really sorry... I shouldn't have said anything at all. I think the wine has loosened my tongue. Sorry. We should stop."

"I don't mind. It's intriguing. Like I say, a bit weird maybe, but not too much." She laughed lightly.

"More than a bit weird, Mel. Definitely weird." I shook my head. "But I never stopped thinking of you, even when you avoided me. I don't think I've every masturbated without thinking about you. Every time. Sorry, too much information there, but you did ask." I could hear the words, but couldn't believe I was saying them. This was going to end badly. I just knew it.

Mel smiled and shook her head. "Yes, I did ask, and you answered." She paused for a moment, as if thinking. "It's OK. Just a bit of a shock to the system. But at least there's one man in the world who finds me sexy, even if it is my own brother." She finished her wine and put down her glass on the table and looked straight at me, her head on one side. "You think about me literally every time? Wow!" She laughed. "Sorry, Davie, I shouldn't pester you about it."

"Yep, every time. I think about you every time. Last night, the night before. Tonight." Oh, shut the fuck up, will you.

"Amazing. I can't believe it. And all these years I thought you hated me."

"Like I said, my only regret is that you are my sister." Oh hell, what a nasty thing to say. "Sorry, Mel, I shouldn't have said that. I like having you as my sister."

She looked at me as if hearing it for the first time. "No, it's OK." She paused, looking at me. "Right," she said. "So, I'll probably regret this in the morning, but let's go upstairs." Abruptly she got to her feet and stood close to me. "Come on, before I change my mind." I got shakily to my feet and followed her out of the room. As she started up the stairs, she turned to me. She was slightly looking down on me. "No sex, OK? I'll play with you, but nothing else. Yes?"

She turned and carried on walking upstairs. I muttered my agreement and stumbled after her up the stairs. Did she really say she was going to play with me? Was this really happening? I followed her into my room. Good job I had made the bed. She said "OK, are you going to lie down?"

I was breathing deeply and I nodded, not able to speak. I undid my belt, and started to take down my trousers. "Lie down," Mel said, taking charge. "I'll do that." I lay on the bed, and Mel knelt to pull off my shoes and socks. Now she eased my trousers down and neatly folded them over the foot of the bed. How bizarre was that? She pulled off my shirt, put a pillow under my head, and then knelt down between my outstretched legs, stroking my cock through my boxers. She smiled, and said softly, "You get hard very quickly." I nodded. I didn't dare speak, in case the spell was broken.

Slowly she eased down my shorts and my dick spilled out. I had been for a wax the previous weekend, and it was smooth and clean. "Wow, it's lovely," Mel said. She smiled at me. "Though I am not an expert." Slowly she began to run her fingernails up and down my cock, using her other hand to do the same on my ball-sac. Then she wrapped one hand round the shaft, using the other to cup my balls with a fondling motion. Slowly she moved her hand up and down, round and round. The pleasure came in waves, a growing feeling of sheer ecstasy. I found myself holding my breath, and Mel stroked my belly with the flat of her hands, whispering in a husky voice, "Breathe, Davie, just relax."

Her hands were everywhere on my body, one moment tweaking my nipples, the next between my thighs and playing with my arse. She pressed behind my ball-sac, stimulated my prostate, she stroked my inner thighs, she fondled my balls and she rubbed the palm of her hand gently over the head of my cock. The feelings continued to grow, and she alternated the speeds of her movements, one moment hard and quickly, then slowing down to an almost imperceptible touch of her palms.