Looking for Trouble Ch. 03

As we relaxed against each other, my mind raced with the enormity of what we had just done, with the forbidden union we had just shared. Pressure, not of the lust we had just sated, but of a different kind, built up within me. I felt her move—adjusting her position for comfort, I guessed—and the wave crested within me.

"What have we done, Bree?" I asked. My doubts must have been evident in my voice. "What have we done?"

She squeezed me. "Hush, Brye," she said. Her voice was full of sleep, but she went on to reassure me. "Not now. We're okay. What's done is done. I'm glad we did it; and, even if you aren't, talking about now it won't change anything. We need to get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow." She was, evidently, too nearly asleep to raise her head, but I felt her lips, tender and moist, as she kissed my chest.

She isn't upset at all, I thought. Maybe this will work out. The tension of my doubts lessened, and, moments later I slept.

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I woke, briefly and incompletely, several times that night. Each time, I found her snuggled against me. Later, I remembered, vaguely, that we woke together once and spoke to each other, softly and gently—but I never recalled what either of us said. And, each time I woke, I was thrilled by her presence, warm, feminine, naked, next to me.

I had never spent a night in a bed with a girl before; I was discovering how much I liked it—even though my bed was scarcely big enough for the two of us. Now I was, for the first time, jealous of the double bed she'd gotten for Christmas and almost wished I had asked for one instead of for a new computer.

I think the last of my short periods of near wakefulness was at about four; then I fell into a sound sleep that lasted until she stirred against me around half past six.

I took her into my arms again. She drew herself against me and, briefly, I felt again the pressure of her lips as she kissed my chest. We both yawned prodigiously, neither quite awake.

We lay there groggily, naked in each other's arms, for a while. The night's sleep we had gotten together had been a bit short. We should have gone to bed earlier, I thought, when, eventually, I was awake enough to think.

But then I recalled why my sister was in my bed when I woke, why we were both naked, and what we had done with each other during the night—which latter was the reason behind a short night's sleep.

I had fucked my sister.

My sister had fucked me.

She had taken the lead, but she'd made it clear that she'd stop if I told her to. And even if she wouldn't have, I was the bigger, the stronger, and I could have stopped her at any time. She hadn't decided for me, nor had I decided for her. The deed hadn't been hers. Nor had it been mine. It had been ours; we were equally guilty.

Guilty? The word flamed in my mind. Guilty! The state of bearing guilt. Of having done something that is forbidden. At the thought, I felt that guilt. Along with the guilt came sorrow and remorse. This was my sister lying naked against my own naked body. I was her brother. Only a few hours earlier, we had slid my cock into her pussy—into and out of, into and out of her pussy—my sister's pussy. And we, siblings, had pumped my sister full of her brother's cum—my cum.

Potential ramifications of what we had done churned in my mind. What if we were found out? What would the neighbors say? What would our friends say? And our parents! Our parents! What if they found out? What would they say? What might they do?

And what… what… what… if she were pregnant? I hadn't merely fucked my sister—I had fucked my sister bareback! That frightened me. And not only because pregnancy would guarantee we'd be found out. I also understood that, at eighteen, neither of us was ready for a child.

Those thoughts caused chaos in my head, but I had found her naked beside me when I awoke, and I knew that I was glad about that. We snuggled as we finished waking up. Her presence at my side, her scent, her softness, her femininity, all were welcome; they reminded me of my guilt, but, at the same time, they reassured me: whatever this all meant, we were in it together. At least there is nothing wrong, I thought, with a guy's waking up naked in the same bed as his naked twin sister.

(I didn't think until later, that although it isn't necessarily wrong to lie in bed with your sister, the two of you naked against each other, it's what probably led to that, or what it could lead to, that might be a bit of an issue.)

As tumult roiled inside me, Bree wiggled herself in closer to me and hummed a little moan. Automatically, I squeezed her in return.

And she said, "Are you okay, Brye? Or are you still worried?"

I thought for a moment, and then I said, "I'm trying to sort out how I feel, Bree. We shouldn't have done that. But I needed you, and you needed me."

She reached up and gave me a quick kiss on the lips before she said, "I did need you. Like I said last night, I'm glad we did it. We needed to. I've been wanting to. And so have you. But it was wrong. And I guess we shouldn't have."

I answered her, "We've done some bad things, but…" I stopped, not sure how to continue.

She continued for me: "…but this was Bad—with a capital 'B'. Girls aren't supposed to fuck their brothers. Guys aren't supposed to fuck their sisters. We fucked each other—and I'm glad! I guess we're… evil! But I'm still glad!"

We paused while that sank in, and then I said, "I'm glad, too. But we can't get caught. Nobody can ever know. We'd be in so much trouble if anyone found out."

"Boy, that's for sure!" she agreed. "But I don't plan to tell anyone. I sure hope you aren't going to, either!"

"No way am I going to suggest to anyone that I'd even think about fucking my sister! Let alone that I've done it! But what if you're pregnant? We'll get caught for sure. And getting caught will be the least of our troubles!"

For a moment, there was a stunned look on her face, and then she said, "I wasn't even thinking about that. I can see why you'd worry. But don't. When I decided I wanted to fuck Mark, I started taking the Pill. After I broke up with him, I hoped I'd find another guy, so I never stopped taking it." She kissed me again, and said, "And I guess I did find another guy!" Then, smiling at me, she went on, "A lot of guys wouldn't think about pregnancy. I'm glad you did, even if it was little bit late…"

We held each other silently for another minute, and then I said, "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "We can't undo what we've done. We aren't lightbulbs: we can't unscrew each other. Even if we want to. And I don't want to, because I'm glad we did it." She kissed me again before she continued, "But we don't have to decide right now. It's Friday, and Dad won't be home until next Thursday. So we have at least until then to figure it out."

That made sense. I answered her, "I guess we don't have to have a complete answer, even when Dad gets home. And I think I'm glad we did it, too—no matter how wrong it was. I know I'm glad I found you beside me when I woke up this morning. If we're both okay with each other, we can straighten it out together."

"We are," she said. "We can. And we will!" She kissed me again and squeezed me.

I squeezed back and held her tightly for a moment. Somehow I managed to ignore the boner her touch, her warmth, and her aroma had caused, and I said, "Yes, we will. But we don't have time right now. I have to get ready for work, or I'll be late. My boss wouldn't like that."

She answered me, "You do need to get moving. But come come home right after work; we need to talk."

There it was: the dreaded "need to talk." But this time I knew we really did need to. "That works for me," I said.

We rolled apart to get out of bed. As we sat up on opposite sides of the bed, she said, "Brye?"

I turned to see that she was looking at me. "What?" I asked.

"You were right." She said it with an air of seriousness. "We can't get caught. Nobody can ever know that we fucked each other. Not anybody. Not ever."

"Damn right!" I answered her. Before I turned to go and get my morning shower, I looked into her eyes; they smiled at me. I smiled back, knowing, now, that she'd been right, too. We were okay with each other, in spite of what we'd done. We could work this out, and we would.

To be continued