Only One Bed, Again!

Breakfast was a more meagre meal, in case of needing our emergency rations later, but some of my Angel Delight made with dried milk seemed an appropriate treat, everyone taking a few spoonfuls of the butterscotch-flavoured whip. It improved upon the crackers and nuts and raisins, for sure, though several mugs of boiling tea raised everyone's morale.

We checked the bothy was clean, replaced some firewood, confirmed nothing needed burying with the spade, and stomped wearily into the ice-cold rain. Some snow still lay on the ground off the path, but on the wet trail, it had mostly melted.

It was a grim, but not dangerous, few hours trek to the inn, where we'd be staying for our final night in Scotland.

We trudged through a particularly boggy bit of the valley bottom, where mud and reeds were thinking about becoming quicksand or even a stream.

"Oh, arse," Chris exclaimed, getting wet muddy water over the top of his boot from a hidden hole. I helped pull him out.

"Ta." Morose. My humming, "He ain't heavy, he's my brother," didn't help.

"Only five miles to the pub," I tried to cheer him up, but I didn't sound very cheery myself. I was thinking my boyfriend Carlos would have been a nightmare on this trip, whinging every few minutes. Chris, however, was mostly stoically bearing everything a Scottish winter could throw at us.

I figured I really had to dump Carlos' sorry arse when I got home. He just didn't have enough redeeming features to counteract his whinging. Everything always had to be abouthim.

Chris was coming out of the comparison well. Human, not perfect by any means, but he was trying to be a good companion. I was enjoying hanging out with him -- though not the rain and mud -- more than I'd enjoyed any recent date with Carlos.

I tried very hard not to think about either of their dicks. Chris came out of that comparison pretty well, too.

"Yeah. Five miles." He tried a weak whistle of the Proclaimers' hit, then resorted to humming, mumbling the chorus under his breath. "I would walk five (la-la) miles, just to be the man who lies down next to you..."

"And a warm, dry, hotel!" That was my inspiration, as I trudged on through the driving rain.

"And a hot dinner!"

"And a shower!"

"Bet there's only one bed again,' Chris grumbled.

"I don't care if there is." I was exhausted.

"Oh, yeah? You want to share a bed with me? I suppose Iam well fit and gorgeous..."

It was good to see his humour back. So I ran with it.

"Mm. A well lush man, sleeping in his boxers? How could any woman resist?"

"Even a sister," he teased.

"Especially a sister," I told him. I took a deep breath. I got the impression I'd regret it forever, should I say nothing.

Chris needed the facts, right? "Consensual incest doesn't lead to trauma, not like child abuse. It's a thing, you know. Siblings who grow up separately, then meet as adults, are actually more likely to be attracted to each other than not. Happens all the time, according to research. All those similar desirable genes, or something. I practically grew up without you, so I think you'd qualify."

I tried to keep my voice flat, scientific, continuing the joke. "They did quite a bit about it in my Psychology degree."

"You find me attractive, then? Yeah, right."

The depressive thoughts were getting to him again.

"Chris? I know you're my brother, but fuck that. You reallyare an attractive man."

"Keep your voice down! Everyone here thinks we're married, remember?" We both laughed at that absurdity.

"Not married. You said. Just let them all believe we're a couple."

"A long-established couple, probably," he agreed.

"Like long-established couplesdon't find each other attractive?"

He grinned shyly at me. "Sometimes, they do."

It was him who reached for my hand, not me initiating anything.

Like any other loving couple, we held hands and helped each other through the tough terrain leading to the next hostelry. Slowly we descended towards a minor road, and then a village, all grey and black in the rain.

Welcome lights in the stone building's narrow windows lured us into walking faster for the last few yards. I unclipped my hip strap, let my rucksack fall to the floor, and collapsed onto a Chesterfield sofa. Heaven!

They'd had delays getting our rooms ready -- some cleaners hadn't shown up or there'd been too much partying needing cleaning, or something.

We didn't really care. Either way, all any of the group wanted to do was sit in the cosy bar, get warm, have enormous Sunday dinners brought to us, and drink.

We ate. Glorious Aberdeen Angus roast beef with potent horseradish; roast potatoes (tatties, the menu said), carrots, cabbage, peas, and giant Yorkshire puddings on side plates, for optimum titrating with the gravy. Between those and a few bottles of house wine round the table, we were restored.

An hour later, we enquired as to our room.

Of course, there was only one double bed in it. Dad hadn't considered such things when booking.

"We can upgrade you to our Honey... a large suite, but that's all. Hold on! I suppose, that room does have space for a camp bed. I'll have one sent up, directly."

"That will do nicely, thank you," Chris said, showing more of his charm than I'd seen from him in the last few years.

We hauled our backpacks to their honeymoon suite, though it was merely named, like all the rooms, after a nearby peak. Ben Macdui, in this case. It had white and cream decor, a luxurious mirrored en-suite, heavy blue curtains to keep in the heat, and a four-poster bed. The black oak-turned spindles held up a billowy muslin canopy.

"Romantic," Chris told me, trying to be sarcastic, but not quite hitting the right tone.

"You wanted to get together with a girl, right?" If I were quizzed later, I would swear on five holy books and my mother's life that that had been sarcasm, as well.

Chris didn't answer. So after dessert -- cranachan made from bottled raspberries, cream, oats and of course a wee tot of local whisky, followed by another wee dram from a nearby distillery -- and we'd returned to the room, I asked him again.

Still no straight answer, but he beckoned me into the large glass-fronted shower cubicle with him.

And I went.

We tugged off our own mucky clothes, not looking at each other. We each stepped under the shower. My brother Chris unleashed the torrents of blissful hot water.

"Aaah..." I think we both moaned in bliss simultaneously. I suspect it wasn't just me thinking of other things which might make usboth moan.

I moved so I could thoroughly soak my hair. My back was to him. Or more crudely, my bum was brushing Chris's cock.

He was still silent, but he wrapped his arms around my wet naked body.

I continued teasing out my hair, getting water, then shampoo, into every tangle.

Chris's penis stiffened against me.

Neither of us moved away. He helped rinse out my hair, instead.

Still wordless, I passed him my conditioner sachet. He could wrestle the bloody thing open.

In a moment, he was smoothing the soothing goo through my hair. And then his hands ran down the rest of my body.

I turned, and ran my hands down his back, too. His bum felt so right in my hands. Firm from exercise, but not a body-builder obsessed with his looks.

Chris helped tuck the towel in around my hair. He wrapped another round his waist. All decent again.

Nothing dodgy going on between us.

Except we totally ignored that foldaway bed in the corner, and both collapsed on the huge, wonderfully inviting, double bed. We scurried under the layers of fluffy duvet, instantly. Not even a powerful radiator could make damp bodies warm in a cold Scottish winter.

Lying right alongside each other, on the same mattress, faces alongside, feeling eat other's irresistible warmth... The kiss felt inevitable.

Slow, soft yet powerful, we drank in each other's faces, exploring with our lips. I gave Chris a small reassuring smile when we came up for air.

"You're great," I told him. "Why are you so reluctant to get it on with anyone?"

He shrugged. "Angst over getting together with anyone? All those emotions. It's easy, like this... God, what am Idoing? This is sowrong!"

He looked at me, miserable again. I had to comfort him.

"Oh, buddy! There's nothing wrong with consensual..." I skipped the word 'incest', too reminiscent of misery-lit novels. "Psych issues that people get arise from when there's use of force, or from a power differential. Parent-child, dodgy uncles, that kind of thing. If there'sno coercion, apparently there'snot psychological effects. I'll spare you the quotes from the literature!

"But seriously, apparently 'siblings experimenting as teenagers or young adults' is way more common than anyone would believe -- even researchers didn't believe it for years, until survey results were replicated quite a few times, and they couldn't deny it any more."

"Uh-huh. Well. There's not much else to do, here, is there?"

True, no television in the building. It was more drinking in the bar -- where, really, we'd had enough of the loud raucous chaps -- or staying in our room. In our large, wonderfully comfortable, double bed.

"You say the most romantic things, bruv."

"Hey! Just because you might fuck me doesn't mean you get romance! Screw that! I'm your fucking brother, not your boyfriend." I suspected he was trying to force me to reject him, with his crude words.

"You know something? It makes it crystal clear, if I'd rather fuck you thanhim..."

"Him? That Carlos? You are going to ditch him, then?"

"Yeah. I suppose I should do it now."

"Why now?"

"Oh, no phone reception. Never mind. I suppose it doesn't matter. I was just thinking, cheating would be even worse?"

"You say that, like doingthis is bad?" His hand ran over the towel I'd wrapped round my body, and untucked it, exposing my breasts and crotch to his touch.

Itwasn't bad. It really wasn't.

I'd run out of excuses.

Iwanted to cheat on my about-to-be-dumped boyfriend, by fucking my big brother.

Fucking hell, I was fucked up!

There was a buzz. I must have intermittent phone signal after all.

One bar. Maybe enough for sending a text? Something like, 'Dear Carlos, don't worry about spending any more weekends with me -- you're now single. Byee!'

Instead, there was a new message.

From Carlos, telling me precisely that.

The bastard!

Then the shock followed the anger. Chris took me in his arms as I cried.

I felt more loved than I had in months. His comforting body heat, pressed all down my naked body.

Chris helped me send my succinct reply: 'Good'.

But that was the point we knew we were going to do this. The God of Beds, whoever that was -- Sleepeezi the Great? -- had played their hand, and we'd lost all our attempts to convince ourselves not to.

I lay, nestled in my big brother's arms. Big in all senses. He might only be four inches taller, possibly shy of the six foot he claimed to be, but he was broad-shouldered as well as built. And that great cock was making its presence known, too, despite the white towel over it.

"Your big cock is poking me, brother." I wasn't going to let him pretend he'd forgotten we were related or anything.

"Mm-hm? Tell me, dirty little sister, do you really want my cock?" Last chance, he was warning me, to say no.

"You're hard, poking my arse. Yeah," I rummaged under the crisp bedding, gripped his offending member hard. "You're the kind of guy who wants to fuck his little sister, aren't you?"

Chris gazed into my eyes. I realised he really was deadly serious. "Only the kind of sisters who are holding their big brother's cock."

He breathed, as close to silent as he could, "Like you. You're still holding me. I bet you want me in your mouth again. My cocksucking, little, sister."

I inhaled. I'd always wondered if he remembered that moment in the holiday cottage.

He was saying nothing untrue. Idid want him again, to suck him off properly, this time. But, weakened as it was, there was still that barrier. Propriety on one side; on the other -- filthy, shocking, illegalincest. I didn't want to cross it without him at the same time. Guaranteeing we were as both as dirty as each other, nothing could be held against the other one of us.

"You want my mouth round your cock?" I breathed into his ear. "Not just my hand? Make it worth my while. Seduce me."

He turned his head, confused, but that meant our lips were only an inch apart.

It wasn't just one of us who moved, then, to bring us into a kiss.

Chris's towel disappeared as I dragged him on top of me. He climbed, just as much. His hips pressed into mine, his chest hair rubbed against my nipple.

My brother panted, in between planting kisses all round my shoulder. I nuzzled his curly hair, gasping as his chin stubble scraped my breast.

"Oh, god, bruv," I mumbled.

"Yeah. Dirty little sister, hanging onto her big brother's big cock..."

I rubbed his cock up and down. It was rock hard, in my hand.

Chris moved his face down further, planting his mouth over one of my breasts. When he lifted his head a moment, he grinned, wickedly. "You like that! Moaning away. Getting extra hot because it's your big brother going down on you," he accused.

"Going down? That's not what you're doing, big buddy."

That grin became a full-on smirk. "Yet."

He left my breast, pinching the other until I squirmed, then blew where he'd been sucking, laughing when I yelped from the cold. Then he was as good as his word, kissing down my stomach, bending his back to get his nose to my neat landing strip.

A perfect touchdown. But he called out, "You'll have to let go, if you want more, filthy wee sister."

"Get your face in there, then you might just get that cock-sucking, O brother mine."

Chris flung himself about, throwing his legs up to the pillows. His cock was near my face, again. So, so much better than that previous time.

"Mm, sweet sister cunt." Any possible cringe I'd normally have had from that word 'cunt' vanished, as my brother forced my soft thighs apart and plunged his face in it.

My big brother may have been single for a few years, but he hadn't forgotten what someone must have taught him. He flung my leg over his head and hung onto my other thigh, forcing his lips to my own lower lips, then teased me with his tongue.

"Oh! Bit higher!"

"Get your mouth round my cock, then, sweetheart. Sister."

It was undeniable: we were getting off from breaking that ultimate taboo. Sex between sister and brother.

Must have been. I pulled Chris's dick to my lips, licked the drops he'd leaked already, and it was tastier than any jizz I'd ever encountered.

I opened my mouth wide, stretching, to take the whole head of my brother's cock into it.

Like a right slut.

"God! You dirty, slutty, cock-sucking sister." He thrust into my mouth as much as I'd let him. "Ah!"

I'd merely stroked his balls, but already my brother was desperate not to come. In some ways, we'd had 24 hours of foreplay...

I tried to take more of Chris's fat shaft into my mouth, but my brother's meat was too much.

Especially when he was still going down on me. It was great, but a distraction. I pulled my lower body away, and made him lie on his back. I sat up, the duvet like a cape over my shoulders, keeping me warm. Then I straddled his manly thighs so I could bend down over him.

My brother's cock really was the most beautiful I'd ever seen. Surely, I wasn't biased?

I sank my face down over it. Chris groaned, begging his body not to come, not yet. "Please, Cat. Mercy? Kit-Kat? God!" Those nicknames I'd long-outgrown were suddenly amazing. Cat and Kit-Kat, I mean. Not God. No brother ever calls his sister God.

Not until he's filling her mouth with his cock, and eventually having to send his sperm whooshing into her throat, anyway. Pressing with one fingertip on the suede-soft sensitive skin behind my brother's cock had been too much for him.

Or I really was his God.

I coughed. His copious come had been a bit much for me.

"Sorry, Kit-Kat." He raised himself on an elbow and wiped up his come with a finger.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. I've come, and you haven't."

"That's fixable! And that's the right attitude! Horribly rare in a man... Why the hell are you single, again?"

"Hm. Maybe I have some redeeming features."

"And talents. Go on, prove it some more."

"You, my sweet little sister, you want your big brother's tongue on your clit?"

God, did I!

"Hell, yes."

"Language! That's not the kind of words our parents taught us, is it?"

He was right. Our parents would be more likely to tell each other such things with way more swearing and Scots words. Something like, "Get tae fuckin work, ya clarty bastard, suck ma fuckin cunt! Doan be a wee glaikit bawbag, and but!" I told him.

"Ah'm on it, ya dobber! Actually, no. Not until you ask me, nicely. In English."

I giggled. "Go on, get to it. Filthy bastard big brother, forcing his poor little sister to wait to get an orgasm off him. Take pity on your wee deprived sis, yeah? Suck my wee clit? Like you want to, anyhow."

Once he was applying his mouth usefully again, holding my legs to his ears, I exhaled, happily.

"Oh, yeah. Man, you're good at this! Right, I'm recommending you! Ah! No, not saying I've got first-hand knowledge! I'm not fucking stupid! Ah, so good..."

Any words dwindled into inarticulate squeaks as my brother successfully brought me off. My arse and pussy both pulsed, excited, desperate for more.

More? Hey, why not. We'd come this far.

"Shit. Did you bring any condoms? It didn't occur to me I'd get a chance to use them!"

Chris was calm as ever, or as ever since he'd matured into an adult from an explosive teenager.. "Should be some in my emergency pack. Yes! Still in date, even."

"Still the 'Be Prepared' Boy Scout, then?"

"I was always more prepared than the parents gave me credit for. You want to double up on your Pill, then? Actually, yeah, probably best in the circs..."

We didn't want to dwell on that. I gazed into my brother's eyes as I rubbered him up, him rubbing himself to stay totally hard.

A hard-on for his little sister. I could see why Chris was finding this such a boost to his confidence -- if I was so attractive that my brother was fighting thirty years of conditioning, to fuck his adult sister, the girl he'd known longer than any other... yeah, that certainly bolstered my spirit!

Chris fingered me, stepping our filthy illegal activities up a notch. "God, you're so wet, little sister.Oh, sweet little sister, what have you done?" He intoned the words, invoking Billy Idol.

I continued the lyrics. "And there's nothin' pure in this world. Look for something left in this world." I wasn't pure, that's for sure.

Chris went back to the previous verse. "Hey little sister, who's the only one? I've been away for so long, so long. I've been away for so long, so long. I let you go for so long..

It's a nice day to start agai-ain..."

"And now you're back in my life. And you're fingers are inside me."

"Yeah, inside you. I'm fingering your sweet dripping cunt, sweet little sis. Dirty wee sister, wanting me so bad. Hell, wanting someone so bad, you don't care I'm your brother."

"No! No, that's not it. Not just anyone. You're -- you'reChris. That's who I want."

"Your brother."

"Yeah. I want my brother."

I might have blushed horribly, but Chris leant down to kiss me. "Good. You're my sweet little sexy sister, and don't you forget it."

"I won't. Thanks, big handsome brother."

He kissed me passionately again, hot against my tongue, my lips, fuzzy chest hair over my breasts, and I couldn't help responding. My legs fell open even wider, and I arched myself up into his body.