In Dreams Ch. 01

Tuesday night took bloody forever to arrive. I deleted my scheduled tweet 150 times, not only because we knew by then that it was my sister who was projecting her incestuous fantasies into my dreams. I was totally cool with that. In fact, I only wished she had asserted her fantasies about me years ago, when we both lived in our parents' house and could have acted upon it--because I sure as hell would have had I any clue she would not freak out and tell our parents and probably the cops if I tried anything.

Heck, I'd have taken just sending me her perverted, wonderful dreams years ago--or even before we both married. Imagine all those missed Christmas and Thanksgiving celebrations we could have shared when back from college or--hell--even last Christmas. No one would have batted an eye if we decided to go stocking-stuffer shopping and checked into a hotel, instead.

So, I knew what would happen. No dream, and my tweet sent out to the world would be seen by all my followers, only one of them having a clue. All it said was Wide World of Sports, scheduled to be tweeted out at 10:16--her birthdate is October 16--Wednesday morning.

I crawled into bed, kissed my wife goodnight, and rolled over.

Alyssa was the star of her college field hockey team. Really, she was amazing until she blew out her ACL during her senior year. But her uniforms had never been so tight. The white shorts she was wearing were much smaller than anyone else's on the field, and soon as she turned around and ran by, it was clear she was not wearing the sports bra she always wore under her uniform when she played.

She looked damn amazing!

Played good as she had back then, too. A couple of passes and she was down shooting into the goal past a hapless keeper.

The coach turned to me. "J.C., get in there!"

"Right, coach!" I looked down to see I was wearing red, so I must be on the other team. Damn it! I don't want to keep my sister from scoring! I want to score with her!

I've never played field hockey in my life, although I did pass the ball with those funny sticks with her back in the day. All I know of the sport is what I learned watching her games. But I sprinted out onto the field ready to take her on.

Nobody seemed to have a problem with the red team having a guy on the field. Least of all Alyssa. I was on her tight as that shirt, which hugged her so well her nipples poked at the fabric and bounced all over the place when she ran. I blocked her, and she turned her back to me, shielding the ball with her body. Bent over like she was, her ass jutted out just enough to grind against my rod. And it was a rod, hard as the wooden hockey stick in my hands, and it felt almost as big in my shorts. She tried to spin around me, so I thrust my hips forward, pushing my cock against her tight shorts.

It was funny, seeing her in that tight uniform, because she wears XS, and it was hard to imagine where she found one two sizes smaller than XS.

"You think you're tough? Have some of this, big boy!" She spun and started to go by me, but it was a dream and the laws of physics apparently were optional, and somehow got an arm out to block her. Right at boob height. Her breast smashed up against my knuckles and she fell on top of me.

"Get off me, you..." she stopped, eyes panning down to my crotch. "Better put that thing away--I'm you sister!"

Then she laughed, got up and scored while I was still laying there with my boner.

Next thing I know, I was behind her again, once more using her lovely little ass to protect the ball, and I was reaching around her ignoring the ball, grabbing instead for tit. She was laughing like crazy, moving her shoulders to dodge my hands, then started shaking that little tail against me until...

I awakened mid-climax, gasping for air. I just kept shooting shot after ecstatic shot into my shorts, gasping and remembering how her bum felt rubbing me.

Then, I looked at the clock.

"It was exactly 3:39."

"Oh my god, same with me," she said, her face showing genuine shock. "Why are you in your car?"

"I thought it would be private."

"Looks like you are in a parking lot."

"No one's around. Is that really important?"

"We had a simultaneous orgasm hundreds of miles away in our sleep, and you are calling me from a grocery store to talk about it?"

"There's a nice little park a few miles away. If you want, I can drive over there and we can make it more like a date."

She laughed much harder than I thought that joke deserved. We had agreed to check what time we woke up coming, and now we knew we were literally experiencing our orgasms with each other at exactly the same time. "You know, this is my first simultaneous orgasm."

"Really?"

"Well, I guess the others were too, but we didn't know."

"That's kinda sad."

"Yeah, well, some might describe having mutual orgasms with my brother on a regular basis in other terms."

"It's crazy," I said. "A good crazy. Probably the coolest thing that has ever happened to me in my life, and I can't tell anyone about it except you."

"You better not tell anyone about it--if you do, I will deny even knowing who you are." I really wanted to Skype her because I needed to look at her face, to see if she was as pretty as my mind made her out in dreams. She was, although I suppose I knew that and just wanted to look at her, to see her lips and her eyes and that amazing copper hair and eyebrows. She snapped me back to what reality we now found ourselves. "We need to figure this out."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Experiments."

"Mmm, that could be fun."

"Right? Here is what I'm thinking..."

We figured trying every night might be a bit greedy--not to mention the increased risk one of us might wake our spouse in the middle of the night screaming out our sibling's name while creaming our PJs. In the interest of science, though, we needed to get on our experiments right away, so we figured every other night was a reasonable schedule.

Frankly, I didn't think it would work. In the first place, all I could think about every night as I lay in bed was my sister making me come before dawn. Also, the fact that I spent every night lying in bed fantasizing about my sister makes it hard to fall asleep. I kept worrying my wife was going to roll over, lay a knee across me and wake up wondering why I was laying there awake all night with a chunk of wood in my pants.

But, despite the anticipation, that second night, I fell asleep...

We were at the beach. Alyssa was in a bikini far sexier than any she would ever wear outside in public, and looked fantastic in it. I mean, truly amazing. Redheads don't tan, so her skin was the color of the sand. I had to tan my back because my hard-on pitching a tent was a bad idea, particularly with her husband lying there right on the other side of her like that.

"I'm hot," she said, and before I could agree with her assessment, she added, "want to go swimming with me?"

Was that a trick question? So there we were, splashing around in crystal clear water that had no bottom, and she kept floating away from me every time I tried to touch her or rub up against her wet body. She started floating on her back, boobies sticking out of the water like the sexiest shark fins you ever saw, and I held her up. Of course I had one hand on her ass! She said something about not wanting tan lines, so she took off her top.

This is where I usually lost it, but this time, I just marveled at them. They were perfect. B-cups, most likely, but a perfect proportion for her. Huge nipples of the lightest pink, the pointy center the color of bubble gum aimed at the sun surrounded by alabaster, jiggling slightly with the waves. Something was written on one, I noticed. In red.

KISS HERE with an arrow pointing to her left nipple. Was that lipstick?

Of course I kissed it. Sucked for a while, too, before our long-distance simultaneous climax together ended it.

"Seriously? The message you wrote to me on your boob was Kiss Me?"

"It said Kiss Here, and I considered other things. It did work, though."

And, it raised about a million new questions. We decided to write messages to see if we could actually communicate. She actually wrote Kiss Here in lipstick on her breast, and it worked.

Was it in her mind, or was I able to actually see her real naked body somehow? Was it even a dream or something else entirely? And, the other experiment was to determine if we could actually do something more than kissing before getting off on each other.

Two nights from now was my turn to communicate to her. Already, I had a list of about 100 possible messages. How to pick only one?

Check back soon--there is more to come.

Literally.

© de Vere Literary, LLC, 2021