Pete Doesn't Just Tell Me Ch. 03

When it finally did, we both collapsed, completely exhausted. We knew it had been too much. When I eventually rolled off him, we just exchanged soft hums. Without a kiss or words, I went to my room and fell asleep, wondering if the muscles in my pussy would ache in the morning.

I had been sound asleep, when I was stirred by movement of the covers. When his hand slid around my ass, I woke up enough to realize that his head was down there too, and then that his legs were getting on the bed in front of my face. My still sleepy reflex was to do what I always did, when he wanted to lick my pussy and wanted me to suck his cock. When our thighs were under each other's head, I was fully awake, a little surprised by his silently joining me that way, but his cock was bobbing in front of my nose, wanting to be sucked.

He nodded with a hum, when I did, and then his tongue was all over my pussy. I nodded, sucking and licking, understanding that we also had to do it this way one more time. He also hadn't been able to lick my pussy as often the past few nights. It seemed that he was desperate to. He had his other arm under my waist, both hands hugging the cheeks of my ass. That had happened before, when one of them wasn't holding my breast, but not like this time. His fingers were deep in my crevice, rubbing the base of my spine and a little below it. That felt good. Would it for him too? His nod suggested that it did.

"Uhnn," his fingers were clasping deeper between the cheeks of my ass. Had he intended to touch me there, on my asshole?! That had never happened before. Felt kind of funny, but not bad. What did it feel like for his fingers? I had never touched mine without toilet paper or a washcloth. But his fingers didn't seem to mind touching it. Did he know they were? The way he was licking my pussy, he could be unaware of what his fingers were doing. Washing or wiping had never felt like that. Shit! It felt good, arousing! Had he done it before, and just been too diffident to do it with me? Did he want me to, too. He had liked that my fingers were nearer his than they ever had been.

If he wanted me to; it had to feel good for him too.

"Uhnnn!" he moaned. In surprise, or as encouragement, because he had been waiting for me to? If he hadn't recognized where his fingers were rubbing before, they did now, and he wasn't minding that mine also were, even when it twitched under my fingers. Had his cocked twitched at the same time in response? Oooh! It just had to have; when mine twitched, I felt my vagina contract.

With our newly discovered way to arouse each other, we both came, came as good as ever before that way. He crawled around and held my breast, then murmured apologetically:

"I just had to, one last time."

"I wanted to, too, had missed doing what we've done so often."

We kissed and just lay there for a minute or two. It was still much too early to have to worry about getting up. Finally, I asked:

"And that, with your fingers?"

"Hmm? They were just there. I guess, just wanting to get as close to your pussy as they could, and then ...? I really didn't think about where they were - hm-hmm! - until yours were, and then I knew why you hadn't complained."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, and we both chuckled.

We dozed off, waking up in time to get up and use the bathroom before breakfast. I offered to drive him to airport, so we got to kiss goodby, both of us chuckling after we had seen that no one we knew was around; kissing in public like siblings shouldn't, maybe like some older people thought no one should in public.

Did we again? Of course, when I was in college and also at home. The good thing about incest, at least ours, was that when we could, we did; no more "we shouldn't," even when we both had other partners. A couple, no, a few - several? - times we both had to find an excuse for why we couldn't be with them so that we could enjoy a weekend together: hotel rooms, registered as a married couple with the same family name. If I went to one of his track meets, or he came to my college, we avoided introducing each other with our family name. At aftergame parties and the like, when others starting making out, we did too, of course, but with handicap of having to temper how far we went to what the others were doing. We spent a lot more time just kissing than we had before.

And girls, for me? What are college roommates for? Not all of them, of course, but a couple. It just happens, happened. Didn't we all play with ourselves, secretly at first, but assuming that she did too, then at some point it stops being a secret? Maybe I helped its not remaining a secret with the couple. The one seemed almost to have been waiting for it to happen. She never mentioned that she already had with another girl, but, of course, she knew how to do it without experience, like Marsha had.

The other one was more surprised, but after we had admitted that we played with ourselves and did it without trying to hide what we were doing, we talked about what we had done with guys. She was again surprised, when I told her everything Pete and I did, of course, not mentioning that he was my brother. It took a week or two after that before she let me show her how good that could be.

With both of them -- different years -- we then enjoyed something to do weekend nights when we didn't have date, agreeing that it let us avoid the social pressure to have one every weekend. We also agreed that it made it easier not to do more than we wanted to on some dates, since we knew that we could satisfy our arousal back in our room.

There was another girl in Marsha's situation, not a roommate, but I consoled her about his having broken up with her. She was a little like Marsha, from her looks and attitude and, as it turned out, her also liking girls more than other girls did. I didn't know that, but I consoled her, with my arm around her. She didn't rub my breast with her arm, but wanted to be held, and I reached across and put my other arm around her, and it brushed her breasts, entirely inadvertently. That must have reminded me of Marsha. Did I move my arm to touch her breasts, of did she take a deep breath and press them against my arm?

I guess I also like girls more than some others do. No guess; I know I do. So I consoled her by telling about Marsha, but with reversed roles: Marsha consoling me. The girl was breathing deeply, while I told -- not mentioning Marsha's having rubbed my breast. Hers were pressing on my arm, and she wasn't objecting that my arm was pressing on them.

My version of what happened with Marsha let me -- knowing where I wanted the story go -- tell that Marsha consoled me with the suggestion that maybe she could help me forget him, and I let her. Before I told her what we did, the girl almost moaned, looking at me and asking:

"You did, you did that, ... with her?"

I nodded, liking that I didn't have tell more. She rocked her shoulders, moving her breasts on my arm. Like with Marsha, it was now clear that she knew she was rubbing them on my arm. She almost moaned again and murmured:

Did you like it? What she did? ... Did you too?"

I nodded again, looking in her eyes, having to press my thighs together. I think she did too.

"Did it help?" she murmured, sighing and taking a deeper breath.

"Um-hmm, until we both had new boyfriends."

"Hmm? Mmmmm" she responded, licking her lips.

It helped her too, but after that I never saw her on dates with boys.

Pete and the girls didn't impinge on mine or his relationships with our partners, when we had one. They never knew that sex with them was so good, because Pete and I were so compatible and had already done everything we did with them.

I have thought about trying to tell my husband. Maybe he would understand if he had a sister, but he doesn't. Don't all sibling at some time think about doing more than others should know? Oh, and our kids? Have they already played "doctor"? Can I really be upset if I discover them playing that way? What if she looks up and says: "Hi Mommy. This is fun. What else can we do?"

I guess I wouldn't tell her: "Ask your Uncle Pete, he told me."

Pete and I had missed out on that. Could that be why we had to make up for it so much better years later?

*

Just a reminder: I warned that this story was not for readers wanting repetitive sex scenes, but if you've read to here, you know that. I hope you enjoyed the story, that you didn't just plow on to know how it ended, innerly wishing you hadn't started to read it. I hope not. It you didn't like the story, others do, so please let them rate it. Thank you.