I Need to Process This Ch. 03

Shuddering violently, I shot cum into Mel's mouth as she gurgled and laughed. She took my cock out of her mouth, swallowed and coughed slightly. "You didn't last long did you? Mmmm." She licked my cock again and squeezed it gently, licking the head and making me twitch as lightning-bolts of pleasure ran through me. "Felt good though."

"That's got to be a contender for understatement of the century," I grinned. "It felt awesome."

She lay with the side of her head flat on my stomach and said, very quietly, "You know, I've not done this very much. I've thought about it quite a lot, and I've seen it when I've watched porn. But I've only done it a few times, and it's never been like this. Nothing's ever been like it is with you, Davie." She pulled herself up until she was leaning over me, looking intently into my eyes. "I think that's what's frightens me. It's all going so fast, but it's all so amazing."

I took her face in my hands and kissed her softly, almost chastely, on the lips. "We can slow down if you want to Mel. We can stop for a while if you'd prefer. Something this wonderful shouldn't be scary. It really is your call, darling." I kissed her again and wrapped my arms right round her.

"I am sorry, Davie, but I can't help being scared," she said, her face against my chest. "I know I joke about being a slut, but I'm not. I only had sex with six other men apart from Doug, and I've never really liked it, to be honest. And I've only done, you know, the other things with three people apart from you." I felt her shaking her head. "And like I said, it's never been as good as this. Never."

"I know. I guess I'm more experienced than you are, but I've never felt like this either." I eased up on to my elbow, looking down at her. "And it's not just the sex, either. I really love being with you... it feels so right."

She gave a half smile, but there was a tear in the corner of her eye. She pulled me down, dragged the sheets over us both, and put her head on my chest. "One step at a time, Davie. Please."

I kissed the top of her head. "Yes, darling Mel," I whispered. "One step at a time." We lay there, nicely sated, warm and sleepy, and I could feel Mel drifting away, her head becoming heavier on my chest, her arm on my stomach slowly relaxing. I could feel myself going as well, and the last thing I thought was how my life had never been better. And then it got immeasurably worse.

It must have been two or three hours later, maybe more, because it was dark. But I still don't know what happened. I was half dreaming, half awake, and as I came out of a deep sleep I found that my cock was rock-hard - and buried in Mel. We were on our sides, facing each other, and she was moving slowly against me. Her face was close to mine, and I could feel her breathing heavily. I suppose I should have realised that she wasn't fully awake, but I was past that, and I pulled her slightly towards me. As I did so, she woke up, realised what was happening, then stiffened and pushed me off, punching my chest hard and screaming, "No, stop it, stop fucking me!"

I pulled back, and tried to reach out for her at the same time, but she was out of bed, and in the half-light I could see her standing, the sheet wrapped round her. "I'm sorry, Mel, I thought you wanted it," I said, which was entirely the wrong thing to say.

"No, no, you know I didn't. I said no fucking. What were you thinking about, you were fucking me? Get out, go to your own bed, go away, leave me alone." Her voice was loud, hoarse, angry, tearful. "I said no fucking! You said you wouldn't fuck me. And you did fuck me. Go away, leave me alone. Go away."

I was crying as well, but I pulled backwards out of the bed, out of the door and into my own room. I sat on the edge of my (sheetless) bed, shivering -- but out of fear and loathing (for myself) rather than the cold. Mel's door opened, and I heard her go into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later, I heard her taking a shower. I tried to imagine my beautiful sister naked, soaping herself, but I knew she was washing away all traces of me, and I couldn't bear to think of that. I crawled under my duvet and huddled up like a foetus, hugging myself tight against my fear of the future and the loss, yet again, of my darling Mel.

The noise of the shower stopped, and I heard Mel come out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. The house became quiet. I tried to work out what had happened, but I couldn't. Somehow I must have penetrated her in my sleep, and she must have let me. I didn't even dream it, but when I woke up, I was inside her, deep inside, and she was responding. At least she seemed to be responding. I didn't rape her, but clearly she hated it and didn't want me to do it, so I suppose it amounted to the same thing. I just hope she realised that I would never do anything to hurt her. But as I drifted off to sleep, I wasn't sure.

I woke up early the following morning from a troubled sleep, pulled on some clothes and crept downstairs. Mel was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed and nursing a mug of coffee. She looked at me, her eyes red-rimmed, like she'd been crying all night. "There's coffee in the pot. Fresh," she said quietly.

I poured some for myself and sat opposite her. I started to speak, but she held her hand up to stop me. "I don't want to talk about what happened. Maybe one day, but not now. And before you start taking the piss again, yes, I do need to process it." She looked at me in a challenging way, as if daring me to say something.

I shook my head. No, I wasn't going to take the piss, I just wanted to talk. But I daren't say anything in case I burst into tears. I looked down at my drink and waited. Eventually, the silence became overbearing: "I just wanted to say sorry," I said.

There was more silence. Eventually she spoke, quietly, looking down at her own coffee cup. "No need to be sorry. It was my fault, all of it. I liked it when you said you found me attractive and sexy and that was stupid and dangerous. All because I needed some affection, some flattery. I kidded myself that it was just fun, and we could stop, but it was incest all the way, and I should never have let it get started. I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself because I led you on." She put up her hand again to stop my protests. "No, Davie, don't talk, don't say anything because I'm not listening. It was my fault, and I'll never forgive myself."

She was crying now, her tears dripping on to the table, and I desperately wanted just to take her in my arms and comfort her, but I was rooted to the spot. She looked at me: "I'm going home today. And I really am going home this time. I'll be back for the meeting with the solicitor on Thursday then the funeral, but I can't hang about here. You'll have to finish off, get the cleaners in. OK? You don't need me for that, do you?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "No, it'll be fine. I can sort it. But there's no need for you to go -- I'll leave you alone. I promise."

"No," she said, "I need to go. I'm due a meeting with the divorce lawyer, so I'll see her and sort a few things out. I left in a hurry. I'll be back Thursday morning. OK?" Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and left. I heard her moving about upstairs, and a few minutes later, she walked into the kitchen. "I'm going, then. I'll see you at the solicitor's on Thursday. Yes?"

I nodded, again afraid to speak, and she was gone. I heard the front door close and then her car drive away. I sat alone, holding my mug of cold coffee, staring into the middle-distance and asking myself, how the hell had that happened? In the days since our mother had died, I had lived a lifetime of emotions. Sounds like a cliché, but I really had soared with the eagles -- and crashed back to earth. I recalled that just the previous morning, I was thinking how I'd re-discovered my sister, and found a lover. Now I'd lost her - again.

Fuck it.

*

That's the end of Chapter 3 of this story. The final part, Chapter 4, will follow once this has been published. I hope you enjoyed reading, and I look forward to your comments.