Only When We Dance

I wondered if I should forgive her.

Yes, I had been frustrated that my plan to eat her pussy and fuck her like never before had been thwarted by Nick's sudden arrival. I wanted to celebrate our success with her. I couldn't deny that a part of me was quite upset about that missed moment.

But, that wasn't the real source of my fury.

I had done Gia a favor, and not any simple, ten minute deal like fixing a flat tire. I had sacrificed weeks of time to help her in a jam. I was happy to do it for her.

I needed a thank you. I needed an "I couldn't have done it without you." I needed more than an "All fine. You can go."

I understood that the rekindling of her relationship with Nick consumed her time and energy. But, she couldn't take a few minutes to see me off to school? Or call me, thank me, and wish me well?

I heard Gia move under the sheets behind me.

She probably fucked Nick that night, I suddenly thought.

I silently cursed and rage burned within me.

When it passed, I wondered if, maybe, I was wrong. Maybe it was about sex.

My body jolted when a soft hand touched my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Gia whispered.

I glanced at her, and then back out the window.

"It's beautiful," she said, watching the snowflakes.

Her hand slid up and down the skin on my back. It felt incredible, but I had to know. "Did you fuck him that night?"

Gia looked up at me, and her hand stopped.

"Nick," I said. "After the recital. Did you fuck him?"

Her eyes grew watery as she looked up at me. The room remained silent except for the soft thrumming of the heater.

She sniffed and nodded.

I turned to the window, shook my head and whispered, "For fuck's fuckin' fuck, Gia." I looked at the snowflakes for a few seconds, and then I turned around and laid back down in my bed.

She watched me.

"I'm the one who came back. I'm the one who practiced every day, sometimes twice. I'm the one who supported you. I'm the one who took you out for a night to be social again, and I picked you up when you were drunk. Shit, I'm the one who fucking danced!" I was digging my index finger into my own chest. In my anger, my upper body has risen off the bed. I sunk back to the pillow.

She stepped toward the bed, wiping her eyes.

"The minute Nick shows up, I'm forgotten. Dismissed." I brought my hands up as if I were texting on a cell phone. "'You can go.' The fuck was that? You never thank me? You never come to say goodbye when I leave for school? You never even fucking called me!" I was almost upright. My face was red with rage. Thrusting my finger at my chest, I hollered, "I'm the one who earned it!"

"Is that what this is about? Earning me? Earning my pussy?" Her face went red. She called to the room, yelling, "Who gets to fuck Gia?" She turned to me and answered her own question with bitter sarcasm. "Whoever earns it."

She was right to be angry. "It's not...it's not just about sex. I misspoke. I'm sorry."

"Explain what you just said then, if it's not just about fucking me."

"It's about being the one who takes you places, the one who brings a smile to your face, the one you call when you need help, and...yes, I'll admit it: the one you want to sleep beside and touch and fuck. It's all of that together. It's being the one you love."

She remained quiet for a few moments. My words had softened her anger. Finally, she said, "That's a beautiful thing to say, but I can't marry you," she said, "and even if I could, I wouldn't because of our family."

"I know that."

"So?"

"So, on the night of the recital, everything went perfectly. I was jacked for you. You were beautiful and sexy and everyone loved you that night. I drove you home, and you told me 'only when we dance.' I think, yes, this is the perfect way to end these two amazing weeks. We fuck each other's brains out, and we go to sleep in each other's arms. Yes. One part of our relationship—the sex—ends, a new part—how intimately we know and love each other as brother and sister—begins. We thank each other. We say good-bye to each other. Our lives move forward. It's the perfect ending."

Gia sat on the bed.

I quietly said, "That's how it was supposed to be."

She nodded, wiping away more tears. "It would have been beautiful that way. I'm sorry that I took you for granted that night. I'm sorry that I let you down...let us down. Can you forgive me, please?"

"I forgive you, Gia, and I'm sorry for being a dick to you these past six months."

"It's okay. I deserved a lot of it." She rubbed my leg, and then she rose from the bed and went to the bathroom.

I sighed, glad that it was behind me and still a little wistful at what had been lost.

Gia came out, and she walked to the window. She pulled the curtains closed, leaving a much smaller opening. I could still see the snowfall. "Is that dark enough for you to sleep?"

"Fine. Yes."

The room was much darker, but not pitch black. Silhouettes were clear. Colors were barely distinguishable. Gia walked towards the door to the hall.

"Goodnight, Gia. I love you," I called to her.

She stopped and turned, standing at the corner where the closet and bathroom wall met the hallway to the door. She was looking at me. I heard a deep breath.

"Gia?"

"You were amazing tonight," she said.

"I was?"

"Mm-hmm." She began walking toward me. "I want you to know how grateful I am for you coming home, practicing with me, and dancing at the recital tonight."

I wasn't sure what to say.

"There was no recital without you. You saved it. But, more than that," she went on, "I want to thank you for making me feel loved again these past weeks."

She stopped beside the bed, standing next to my hip. I was speechless.

"I know you have to leave tomorrow and we have to say good-bye, but I'll come to some of your games. Then, we'll see each other at Christmas. There's the wedding, too. We'll see each other there, won't we?"

I swallowed and said, "Yeah."

She pulled her mini-dress over her head and dropped it to the floor. She unhooked her bra. It fell. Then, she slid down a pair of tiny, string panties. She knelt beside me, and her soft hands began to rub my chest and belly. "Maybe," she said, "we can dance together at the wedding. Would you like that?"

"Yeah, Gia. I would."

Her fingertips slid under my boxers. I raised my hips, and Gia drew my underwear off.

She was smiling. I could see the glistening of her teeth in the near darkness. Holy shit, she was beautiful.

"Me, too," she whispered, wrapping her fingers around my cock and stroking two, three, four times. "Because you know what happens only when we dance."

She slowly cranked my erection towards my right hip where her mouth awaited its arrival. She bent toward it, and she kissed the tip. She licked it, and then she clasped it with her lips.

What followed was the slowest and most sensual blow job I ever experienced. Gia nursed and suckled on the tip while her fingers massaged up and down the shaft. She climbed onto the bed between my legs. There, she stroked me at a crawling pace while she sucked on each my testicles in turn, giving both the soft, caring attention of her wet mouth for minutes on end.

Satisfied, she rose and hovered over the tip as the shaft twitched in anticipation. She planted her hands beside my hips, and then her head fell in slow motion. I watched my entire cock vanish through her lips.

The noises she made—little hums of satisfaction, slurps of savoriness, and gasps of rapture—drove me past the limit of ecstasy. Twice, she brought me to the brink, only to ease off and let me slide back down where she started all over again.

Her pace never increased. I watched every inch of my cock disappear and emerge, over and again, in and out of Gia's mouth with the languor of a sleeper's breathing. For the third time, I peaked. She knew, but this time she held in place, with her lips tightly securing the root of my cock and the rest nestled snugly in the wet warmth of her throat.

I grunted her name. She issued a short, high moan. Then, my body released.

Gia didn't move as my penis swelled inside her throat. The throbbing contractions meted out what felt like wave upon wave of liquid power.

When it ended, she remained, unmoving, for a long time. I heard her swallow. Her mouth opened with a gasp. Rushes of air swept up and down the shaft as it gradually emerged from her mouth.

I pulled her to me, and she rested her head on my chest. I kissed her, thanked her, and told her how amazing it had felt. She told me that she loved everything about my cock. She said that if she were my wife, she would suck on it every day.

I rubbed her back, thinking about her words. I wondered what I would do to her every day. I could think of a lot of things. What wouldn't I do? I supposed that I couldn't fuck her tits. They were too small for that.

Then it dawned on me how Gia, though never once mentioning it, perhaps sometimes felt envious of other women's breasts. I had certainly neglected Gia's tits as a lover. I imagined other men in her life had, too. With such legs, such a pussy and ass, what was the point?

I gently moved her onto her back. I climbed between her legs, and I whispered, "I've got to have your tits, Gia. Just been dreaming about them."

She looked up at me as if I were joking.

I didn't give it the time. I wanted her to know how serious I was. I kissed them and stroked them. "Fuck, yes," I whispered. I pinched a nipple and sucked on the other one.

Her small breasts made me want to be gentle and loving, never rough. I felt like a kid with a strange, new toy—one he wasn't quite sure how it worked, but one that he knew he could make "go." All of my senses and energies were focused on Gia's tits. I explored everything about them.

What finally triggered Gia was feeling me grow hard against her. It was then, I think, she knew that I wasn't kidding—that I really liked her little tits.

When I sucked her nipples, she began to moan and tell me, "Yes."

After ten minutes of unceasing, yet soft breast and nipple play, I rose above her.

She pulled my face towards her and kissed me, machine gun-like, all over my cheeks and lips. When she stopped, she said, "No guy has ever done that to me before. I never thought my tits were very exciting for guys."

"Not exciting?" I asked, and then I pushed the head of my cock against Gia's pussy.

"Oh!" she cried, and then an enormously joyful grin spread on her face.

I bent down and licked one of her nipples.

When I came back up, she said, "Lay down."

We switched places. Gia straddled me. She reached back, grabbed my cock and lined it up. When she let go, she sat back against it, grunting as my erection stretched and charged her body.

Once fully connected, she bent down and kissed me. Our tongues intermeshed, and she began to ride my cock.

I didn't move. I let her do what she wanted with me.

She started slowly, and at some point, she found her spot. Her energy ramped up. The bed rocked to her rhythm. She rode hard. Her head sagged toward her chest, and her hair obscured her face as it shook.

Gia collapsed on my chest, but her ass continued to drive down into me. She called my name, and I grabbed her ass and began to thrust with her. Our bodies slapped, and she cried out several times before sighing and melting into me, it seemed.

I held her butt and continued to push inside her gently. A minute later, she rose and said, "You don't know how good that feels."

I used my leverage on her ass to lift myself to her lips.

We kissed, and she said, "I like your hands on my ass."


"So do I."

"Feels good in your hands?"

I nodded.

She stopped me. "I'll let you look and feel." Gia climbed off me and spun around. On all fours, she scooted back toward me, and I groaned at the sight. In position, I guided myself into her pussy, and she let her body weight drive my cock home.

She held for a moment, adjusting herself, and then she did something that made me gasp, made my cock throb inside her, and made my hands almost instinctively reach out and clutch the two curvy halves of her ass.

She arched her back.

In my experience, more often than not women were most comfortable curling forward in the reverse cowgirl position. Their backs pushed out, and their asses almost disappeared. Gia did the exact opposite. She drew her lower back in, pushing out her butt in a swooping curve that presented that part of her body in the most erotic way imaginable.

Then, she rode me, occasionally looking back at me over her shoulder.

I could not help but thrust along with her as my hands caressed and squeezed her ass.

"I'm going to cum, Gia."

"I know," she said.

I tried to respond, but the feeling was so good that I gasped. I snatched a breath and uttered, "Gia, let me kiss you when I cum."

She stopped moving, and I quickly repositioned us in the missionary. When I penetrated her, we kissed. She moaned.

She liked it. Holy shit. The kissing and fucking brought her to climax even before me. She broke it only to issue a piercing cry, sustaining it as her fingers dug into my ass. Her pleasure pushed me over. I covered her lips with mine, grunting as my cock surged inside her and fed her body my hot fuel.

I broke the kiss to let out a rumbling growl as the feeling crested.

"I love you," she cried. Again. Again. Each time she said the words, her voice diminished until, finally, it was a whisper in my ear.

***

Years passed. Careers started, stopped, and re-started. Marriages happened. Children arrived. Through it all, Gia and I remained close, talking on the phone at least twice a week and spending family holidays and vacations together with our own spouses and kids.

It might amaze some to discover how often a brother and sister who love one another can find opportunities to dance.

*****

Thank you for reading. Errors herein are entirely mine. -FS