Kissing in Dreams

"I'm sorry, brother," she speaks that last word pointedly, "I couldn't hear you. Did you want me to stop?"

"N-n-no. Please."

Oh, God, her hand is working in a kind of corkscrew motion now. Swirling up and down and around. Slathering as it goes. "Please? Please what?"

"Please, don't stop."

Her fingers pick up the pace, sending droplets of juice flying. My pelivs pumps frantically. I can't last much longer. Just before I'm about to soar, she says calmly, "Grant? You look like you're in heaven right about now."

"Yesss." I gasp. Tears are running down my face and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm drooling. Any trace of inhibition is burned away in a haze of lust.

"I want you to remember this moment - how you're feeling - the next time I ask you to come to the clearing with me, okay?"

"Anything. Please..."

Emma's left hand grabs the back of my head and pulls it up so that our faces are almost touching. "Look at me." Her right hand hastens over my streaming length. I struggle to bring my eyes into focus. "You can cum now."

Godalmighty.

Her fingers sail up my slickened pole, over the crown and I uncoil, bawling hoarsely. Ass cheeks flex, cock rams into her fist and I spew my seed in a creamy shower.

My hips and her hand continue their partnership in bliss, but their rhythms ease. Though my orgasm has passed, afterspill bubbles up with each upstroke of her fingers, until my thrusting finally halts altogether.

For a moment, she and I are motionless, but for the heaving of my chest and the trembling of my extremities. I'm transfixed by the intensity of her gaze until she blurts, "Fuck, but that was unbelievable." My reply is half chuckle, half groan, "Yeah. Yeah, it really was," as my buttocks descend to the boulder's surface.

"Bet that feels a helluva lot better when someone else is doing it to you, huh?"

"Whew. You have no idea."

Emma unbuttons her blouse, a wide grin animating her features. "I want you to do me now."

When I fail to respond, she halts her activities to peer at me. My reluctance must be apparent. "Christ. Not that again. Look, Grant. I tossed and turned last night before I finally had that wank. I worried about what we did. That maybe it was perverted. Sick. And you know what I figured out?"

"What?"

"I love you more than anybody on this idiot planet and I know you feel the same way about me. We do everything together and share everything. No one looks out for me the way you do. I like to think I do a pretty good job of watching out for you too."

"You do."

"I think you're beautiful," I blush to hear her say those words. "And I've seen the way you look at me." God knows what colour my complexion is now, but it certainly sets her to giggling. "You just better hope nobody else sees it." Before my mind can fully digest that playful admonition, her tone becomes serious again. "Can you give me even one intelligent reason why we shouldn't make each other feel good?"

I try to find a logical argument that will refute her premise, but I can't. Of course, it doesn't help that I'm distracted by her open blouse. Only a slender strip of her skin is revealed down the center of her torso, but oh how it fires my imagination. Then I realise. "Emma! Where's your bra?"

She giggles mischievously, "I took it off in the locker room just before I came out to meet you at the fence."

"Huh. So you were pretty confident you could convince me to come back here."

"Let's just say I didn't think I'd have to twist your arm."

I'd only have to brush aside the plackets of her blouse to see her breasts.

I ache to see them.

Touch them.

Suckle them.

Such treasure - just on the other side of that open shirt.

Fuck. I have to stop thinking like this. She's my sister, dammit.

As if my thoughts are written on my face, Emma snaps, "Fine. You're gonna leave me hanging after I took care of you? I'll take care of myself. Sit there and watch if you want to. Or go the hell home. It's all the same to me."

She reclines on her elbows. Her legs are open, but her skirt is draped between them. Still, most of her shapely thighs are revealed. What's more, her recumbent position has caused her blouse to fall aside, confessing her tits to my hungry eyes. My belly clenches as she cups one of those soft mounds and begins to knead it. Her head lolls back and a sigh escapes her lips. Making me cum must've had her engines roaring. She's already lost in bliss and she's hardly touched herself yet.

Rising to a sitting position, she cradles her breast with one hand while teasing the nipple with the other. The bud is swollen and rosy, obviously thrilling to her attentions. I hear her burble, "Oh my God. That's sooo good. I can feel it clear down in my clit." I'm hypnotised by the sight of her gently rocking, eyes closed as she bites her lip. A downward glance confirms that my erection is returning, though it's still dripping from my recent climax.

I'm barely conscious of what I'm doing as I close the distance between us on my hands and knees. I watch the movement of her fingers on her tit as if it were the only thing happening in all the universe. Leaning in, almost as if impelled by an outside force, I feather my tongue on the tip of her nipple.

She gasps and her lashes fly open. Our eyes meet for an instant before she whimpers, "Do it again."

I can't resist the longing in her voice. Bending to her chest, I lave the entire areola she's been massaging. Around and around with the flat of my tongue. Teasing swipes at the tautened bud have her moaning again, "Ohhh yes." Her back arches, shoving the nipple and much of her breast into my mouth. I inhale it eagerly, cheeks hollowing, then allow it to ease out again. "Fuuuuck..." The word comes out as a snarl that's more lioness than schoolgirl.

The scent of her excitement fills my nostrils. A wet squelching sound tells me she's playing in her folds. "Oh Grant," her breathless voice is right in my ear. I continue nursing her as the ache between my legs grows like a fever, making me crazy with want. The wet sounds below me seem different somehow. Pulling away to look down, I'm met with the sight of her cunt impaled over and over by her glistening fingers while her other hand rotates on her clit. Her entire body is aquiver.

"Don't stop, Grant. Keep sucking..." I latch onto the hardened nub, drawing it in and releasing it at a frantic pace. I can hear her fingers below working just as urgently. "Oh m-make me cum, gonna cumgonna cum gonna—!"

All at once, she's quaking and arching, her hand shoved deep inside, my mouth performing on her tit for all I'm worth. Being joined at her breast that way when she climaxes is incredible. I feel the intensity coursing through her. Knowing I had a part in it is even more thrilling.

"Christ almighty," she pants, leaning back again with her dripping hand resting on her belly. "That was un-fucking-believable."

"It looked like it," I answer softly. She meets my eyes with a tired, blissful smile. Then she leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Grant. I knew you wouldn't let me down." Her glance shifts down and her grin widens, "You look like you could use some more attention already." I follow her glance to my rigid sex. It pulses with need. The clarity of the stuff oozing from the tip means it's fresh pre-cum and not more afterspill.

Reaching down, she collects the dripping fluid and daubs it over my crown. I flinch and groan in response, assailed with a vision of sliding my cock up and down her labia. Slowly, tantalisingly, spreading our mingled sap all over her delicate petals. Until, at last I center myself at her trembling entrance and thrust home. I almost cum at the thought of it.

"We'd better get home," I mutter in a shaky voice, "It's getting late and Mom's gonna wonder where the hell we are."

I can see the disappointment on her face, but the setting sun reinforces my argument.

*****

Over the next couple of weeks, we make our way to the clearing almost every day. I've stopped resisting when she asks. On one or two occasions, I'm the one who's suggested it. Unsurprisingly, we become less and less inhibited with one another. Watching each other masturbate, asking questions about how the other does something and why they do it that way. And of course, putting our hands on each other more and more, stimulating one another to orgasm.

Today, we're kissing rapaciously while I fuck her with my fingers. The feeling of having part of my body inside hers is indescribable. Her pussy spasms around my invading digits, gushing warm juices down over my hands, wrists and even to my forearm, as she groans into my mouth.

Though her throes subside, our lips and tongues continue moving together hungrily. I hold her face in my hands, her still-warm cream on my fingers, smearing her cheeks and jaw. The heady perfume curls into our nostrils.

The instant we come up for air, her fingers wrap around my dick to begin an urgent rise and fall. Within seconds, my head is arched back, ecstatic sounds gurgling from my throat. While I'm lost in the bliss of her well-coated fist stroking my pole, I'm startled by the addition of a new sensation. A warm, wetness enveloping my cockhead. My head snaps up to see what she's doing and I'm met with the breathtaking sight of my crown sheathed in her lips, her hand still shuttling along my length.

Somewhere in the recesses of my sex-addled brain, I know I should stop her.

It's not right.

We shouldn't be doing this. It's going too far.

But that voice is drowned in the roaring ecstasy. Her tongue is liquid fire playing on the most intimate, sensitive part of me. And witnessing it all just adds to the intensity. Watching her cheeks draw in as she suckles, pre-cum dribbling from her lips and down my hardness. Her eyes lock on mine, watching the toll of pleasure written on my face. I hear myself gasp amid the slippery sounds of her jacking fingers.

I'm close.

Damn close.

Limbs tremble, balls tighten, glutes clench as I fuck her face. Engulfed in a white heat. No conscious thought. Just the need to shoot my jism into her. All of my being focused laser-like on this instant...

...when she stops.

Her mouth forsakes my quivering pole and her grip tightens at the base. My howl of frustration is piercing in the quiet of the wood.

"Ssshhh."

"Why'd you stop?"

"I wanna try something."

"Now? Fuckinghell! I was gonna cum! And Christonastick, I really, really needed to cum!" I don't usually curse like that, but I'm still shivering with unrequited lust.

"I know, baby." She's never called me that. Something about her using that endearment makes my skin prickle. Fuck. I didn't think I could be any more turned on.

The next instant proves me wrong.

Pressing my cock flat against my belly, she scoots forward until her sex is poised over mine. She lowers herself until the weeping folds of her pussy splay on the underside of my shaft.

"What're you...?"

Her fingers press gently to my lips as she makes a hushing sound again. But, what really silences me is the feeling of her sex gliding atop mine. Slowly. Sensuously. Spreading her cream and mine. I can only moan and shudder in response. Leaning forward until her breasts flatten on me and her nose touches mine, she gazes into my eyes, "Just this once, okay?"

I'm not sure of her meaning, and it's impossible to think while she's moving on me that way. Sliding back and forth on my over-stimulated nerve endings.

Her whispered intensity brings me into focus again, "Nothing bad'll happen if we only do it the one time."

Emma's folds lift as her hand grasps my cock to aim it at her opening. She husks, "I should be your first and you should be mine."

My glans sliding into her oozing furrow. Oh, God oh Christ. She's going to put me inside her. I feel as if I might fly apart.

"No one's ever gonna love you like I do." She's so close I feel the words on my face as well as hear them. Our mouths come together in a punishing kiss as she eases the tight sleeve of her pussy onto my hardness. Down, down, until her cheeks settle on my groin.

I'm inside her.

All the way.

For a moment, we're motionless, gazing into each other's eyes, when she murmurs, "I love you."

And there it is.

Out in the open.

No pretense of chaste, sibling affection.

Not simply helping each other to get off.

This is an overt, romantic declaration.

And it thrills me through and through.

"I love you too." I realise, as I say the words, that tears are streaming down my cheeks. I look up at her splendid beauty, feel her warmth enveloping me, her comforting weight atop me and I wish with all my being that this moment would never end. I have the feeling, that in my heart, it never will.

She lifts herself slowly, squeezing my shaft as she rises. Just as I'm about to slip out of her, her folds swallow me again. Up and down she sleeks at a tantalising pace. Our mouths meet again and her tongue brushes my lower lip. Despite the fact that our bodies are already joined in passion, the intimacy of my sister tasting me this way makes me catch my breath. Now she's laving my upper lip, then nibbling and sucking them both. My groan of pleasure is cut short by her tongue entering my mouth, twirling over my teeth and tongue.

I'm assailed by a riot of intense sensation: the tightness of her pussy, the warm softness of her breasts, the blazing heat of our deepening kiss. All at once. All of it new. And all of it unspeakably beautiful.

I break our kiss to warn her, "Emma..."

Her breath is coming in staccato gasps, "I-I know. Me too."

"But..."

She cradles my face in her hands and quickens her pace. "Just ride it out with me... Oh fucking GOD it feels so good... just... just ride it out, baby." That endearment again, sending another thrill through me in the midst of all this bliss, "just this once. Just. This. Once..."

I hear the urgency in her voice, sense the control being ripped away from her and suddenly I'm caught in the shrieking tempest with her. Jesuschrist. Our hands clench each other in desperation. Trying to hang on through the fury. Hips pump. I spurt inside her. She spasms around me. Our voices cry out as synapses spark, fuse and explode.

When I begin to recall who and where I am, I look down upon her head, which is lying flat against my heaving chest. Her face is hidden from me, but her laboured breathing sounds almost like sobbing.

"Emma?"

She doesn't stir, except for the oddness of her respiration.

"You okay?"

That queer sound she's making coalesces into a convulsive weeping that can't be mistaken for anything else. Panic flashes through me, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Without looking up at me, she manages to blurt, "No. Be still. I-I'll explain in a minute."

I lie unmoving, waiting for her tremors to subside. When her breathing calms at last, I ask, "You ready to talk to me?"

She rises up to plant her elbows on my chest. Gazing piercingly at me with red-rimmed, puffy eyes, she replies with a question of her own, "The things we just did with each other, to each other... what did they mean to you?"

"What? I... Emma, they meant everything to me."

"So, you wouldn't do those things with another girl?" The last two words come out tight, forced. More tears gather.

"Huh? No. Of course not."

"Why's that? Because you're faithful to me?" Her grief overflows and streams down her cheeks.

"Emma, where are you going with this?"

"You planning on marrying me?"

"You know we can't."

"D'ya want me to have your babies?"

"What the hell's gotten into you? Why are you doing this?"

"I just finished seducing you. Promising you, 'just this once'. But after we were done, 'just this once' hit me like a sledgehammer. The idea of never sharing with you this way again. And then the thought... oh, God, the thought of you... or me... making love to someone else. Marrying someone else. Jeezus, Grant. It makes me feel ill."

I'm beset by a mind's eye image of her in the arms of another. Grief and jealousy roil in my guts with a startling force and immediacy. My vision blurs and tears spill over my lashes.

Wiping her own face and then mine, she simply rasps, "Yeah. Exactly."

As she begins to rise, my softened cock slips out of her. A forsaken feeling sweeps through me. Will I never be joined with her again? Were we given but the one glimpse of how things ought to be?

We put our clothes on in silence. Her haunted eyes speak eloquently enough, though she avoids turning them in my direction.

We're halfway home when I realise we haven't been holding hands. When I reach out to twine my fingers with hers, she gently disengages them. The sense of loss is devastating. I want to ask her why, but can't trust myself to speak.

After dinner, she disappears into her room and locks the door.

The next day, I wait for her after school at our usual spot by the fence. When it becomes obvious she's not going to show, I make my way home to find she's already sequestered in her room again. A knock on the door results in the terse reply, "I'm doing homework."

Later, when Mom tells us it's our turn to do the dishes, Emma asks to be excused, "I'm not feeling that great." As she makes her way upstairs, it's obvious she hears me behind her because she suddenly picks up her pace.

I muscle my way into her room after she tries to shut the door on me. "Why are you so angry with me?" I don't know how successful I am at keeping an aggrieved tone out of my voice, but I do my damnedest.

"I'm not angry. Well, not at you, anyway."

"Then why are you treating me this way?"

"What do you expect me to do, Grant? I have to change the way I think about you. The way I feel about you. I can't do that if you keep, if we keep..." She wheels about and climbs into bed, with her back to me, her face to the wall.

I stand in the middle of her room, trying desperately to summon the magic words that will return my Emma to me. But inspiration seems to have fled and taken hope with it. Unable to bear her silence any longer, I retreat to my own room. I haven't a clue how long I spend crying before exhaustion forces me to sleep.

*****

The next couple of weeks are torturous. She slips further and further away from me and I feel helpless to stop the terrible process. No cycling together, no basketball, no reading to each other, no walking hand-in-hand to and from school. I've never felt so alone in my life.

So it comes as a pleasant shock to hear her call my name as I'm walking home from school one Friday afternoon. I turn to see her jogging to catch up with me. "Wait up. I wanna talk to you."

"Okay."

We walk for a few minutes in silence. I can tell she's trying to figure out how to express whatever it is she wants to tell me. When we reach the path through the woods, I veer off onto a different route than she's used to. "Where're you going?"

"Home. I don't cut through the woods anymore."

No need to ask me why. Instead, she asks, "How much money do you have in the bank?"

I've saved a decent sum from neighborhood yard work after school, my paper route and last year's summer job. "A little less than a thousand."

"I want you to give it to me."

Without breaking my stride, I turn to look at her, "All of it? What for? You have plenty of your own money."

"You have to promise you won't tell anyone."

"Okay."

She wheels to face me, "Uh-uh. This is important. You have to promise."

"I said I wouldn't and I meant it. Now what gives?"

She looks down and starts fiddling with her hands. I wait.

"I'm, um..." she takes a deep breath and exhales, "I'm going to go away."

It feels like the words have a physical force to them. I'm disoriented by the blow. "You can't." My protest is muted because I can scarcely breathe. My legs are unsteady so I stumble over to a nearby maple tree and take a seat amongst its roots.