Infatuation Ch. 03

"You think I enjoy lying in bed at night thinking about my sister, for God's sake? Because I don't; but that's what happens: I sit there, thinking, 'I wonder what Jemma's doing', 'I wonder if Jemma's asleep yet', 'I wonder what bloody Jemma's wearing to bed tonight'. And try as I might, I can't get those freaking thoughts out of my head. Because of you! You and your..." I gestured frantically, "nakedness."

For the record, yes, I was aware that I was being completely irrational, but there is nothing so irrational in this world as love. Or so people who use corny phrases like that say. But wait, there's more...

"Why couldn't you have been ugly?" I demanded fervently. "I mean, mom and dad aren't good-looking people, and I very much doubt that I am, but you ... you had to be a total babe, didn't you? Well, excuse me for noticing that!

"And you know," I said, sitting down on the edge of Jemma's bed, "I think you tampered with my clock that day. I think you wanted me to see you naked, so that you could get this little power trip and make my life a living hell. Well, guess what? Mission accomplished! Now, on top of all my previous pathetic achievements, I can add the one about being crazy about my sister. Congratulations. I hope you're happy!"

And with that I stormed out for the third time in as many minutes, refusing even to register the expression on Jemma's face. This time I only made it to the door.

"Are you ... happy?" I asked in a softer tone, the anger gone from my voice. "I mean, 'cause you should be happy."

That was when I noticed that Jemma had gone into a kind of trance, as though she was staring through her bedroom wall at some strange occurrence taking place on the other side. But, as far as I knew, this was the strangest occurrence that had ever taken place in this house.

"Uh ... Jem?" I said, as I began to worry about her health.

She finally blinked her eyes and looked up dazedly for a moment. "You need to stop saying those things," she said seriously, as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Why?" I asked.

Jemma ignored me and simply tried to leave, but I caught her around the waist and pulled her back. "James!" she admonished me, resting one of her hands on mine, but doing nothing to remove it.

"Come on, just stay here for a bit," I said, wrapping my arms around her.

"No!" she hissed reproachfully, and tried to struggle free. But then... "Oh, my God," she groaned miserably, as though she'd just swallowed a snail. "You're hard." She looked as though she was about to be sick. Which, again, not all that great for the self-esteem.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I was. I didn't want something like that to get in the way of our intimate embrace.

"Just let me go," Jemma implored me as she tried to wriggle free.

I loosened my arms a bit, so that it didn't seem as though I was holding her against her will – even though, technically, I was – but I couldn't relinquish my hold on her altogether. "Wait, please," I said, trying to look into her eyes; it was difficult though, on account of the fact that she was twisting her head furiously from side to side. "Pleeease," I begged her. "Please just stay. Please?"

But Jemma was having none of it, and so I employed my guaranteed, all-purpose, problem-solving method. Yup, I tickled her again.

Jemma began to laugh vigorously and alternated between trying to pull free and moving closer to me, so as to prevent my errant fingers from getting at her ticklish sides. But all that happened was that we moved up against the wall, so that she was leaning back against it and was looking up into my face. God, I wanted her.

To let her realise the full impact of this special 'moment' of ours, I stopped tickling her and let her just look at me, you know the way guys and girls look at each other in those bad teenage dramas. Yeah, that's the way. She looked so young then, and so vulnerable, and for once she wasn't looking at me with disgust or impatience or anything other than fearful curiosity. Or at least that's what I thought it was. I was sure about the fearful bit, but not so much about the curiosity.

"I love you," I said, and lowered my mouth to her neck.

"Yeah, and I love you, too," said Jemma, trying to force my head away. "You're my brother."

"I don't mean it like that," I said, and managed to reach her neck despite her resisting hands. I kissed her soft, warm flesh and suddenly I was drowning in a vat of pleasure. I hugged her closer and became gradually unaware of her protests. Again, I was sure she could have broken free if she had really wanted to, so I didn't worry about forcing her to do something she didn't want to do. Plus, I hadn't even kissed her on the mouth yet. Well, except for that peck she'd given me a few days back, but that didn't count.

"You're so beautiful," I said, kissing her furiously in every place I could reach. I was greatly encouraged when Jemma leaned her head back, exposing the entirety of her neck to me. She was still protesting as best she could, but instead of trying to push me away, her hands were now gripping my arms like vices.

I kissed my way towards her throat, past her clavicles and down into Cleavage Country. Jemma actually moaned. How cool is that?

By now I was trying to lift her top up a bit as well, hoping that she'd let me see her breasts again. But I was wary of suddenly jarring her out of this strange, quasi-amiable state she seemed to be in, so I backtracked to her neck again, just to reassure her. My hands were underneath her top now, though, running around to her spine. Her skin was so amazing. Why even bother describing it to you when I can't describe it to myself?

"James," Jemma said, or possibly groaned. But that's when I took the plunge. I lifted my mouth until it was level with hers, and mashed them both together with abandon. Well, 'mashed' makes it sound rougher than it really was, but it was a pretty intense kiss, at least for me. At first Jemma made the predictable, "Mmmmfff" sound, as though I was suffocating her, but then her arms went all the way around me and she was kissing me back far more furiously than I was kissing her. And that, my friends, was a revelation.

I don't know how long the kiss lasted. Five seconds? Ten seconds? Maybe even thirty. But however long it was, it wasn't long enough. Before my brain had even begun to process what was happening (and there was a lot to process – the feel of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the texture of her tongue) Jemma was pushing me away and wiping her mouth. She looked quite upset. "Never again," she said, and walked away.

But it took several minutes for me to realise she had left. I was swaying perilously on my feet, threatening to crash into her bed and nightstand. What had just happened? Scratch that – I knew what had happened. But why? Why in God's name had she kissed me back? And why had she kissed me like that? So passionately. So ... hungrily.

It was my first kiss, too. My very first. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, kiddies. But you know what? I'm glad that that was my first. First kisses should always be memorable and, well, mashing lips with your sister for a single, passionate moment must weigh in pretty high on the memorable scale.

So there that was. My first kiss, my first official 'action' with Jemma, and the first time in my life that I'd almost fainted. 'Almost' being the operative word there.

So where did I go from there? Well, to tell you the truth, I hadn't a bloody clue. In the short term, I simply staggered into my room and fell heavily onto my bed. I missed it entirely at first, but I managed to land squarely in the middle on my second attempt.

And then I fell asleep. Yeah, okay ... not the most romantic thing to do post-first kiss, but I was drained. I felt like the energy had been sucked out of me. Of course, the idea that my lovely sister Jemma was actually an evil succubus did occur to me, but even if she were evil, I wouldn't have cared. When you look as good as she does you can steal as many souls as you like, in my opinion. I'd already lost mine anyway, that moment I'd seen my sister in all her naked glory. She had everything of mine now: my heart, my thoughts, my attention – everything! But, of course, a single kiss wasn't anywhere near enough to satisfy my appetites. And things did go further than that, but I think we'll leave that for next chapter, because, let's face it, I don't want to overload you with too much eroticism all at once. What's that? There was no eroticism in this chapter? What are you, kidding me? Did I not describe how intense that kiss was? And the tickling? And the toe plucking? Jeez. It's all blowjobs and anal sex with you kids these days, isn't it? Okay, so technically I'm a kid as well, but if I can appreciate the beauty in a simple French kiss, then you should be able to as well. But if you can't – for some reason – then keep reading anyway, because things might just get a little hotter.