Sowing and Reaping

THE FIRST NIGHT

The house was asleep.

Except for me.

I was lying in bed, wide awake, my mind awhirl, with my fingers wrapped tightly around my penis. Lying next to me, fast asleep, was my little sister Jane. Her breathing was as deep and regular as waves on a beach, and I knew that she was immersed in her own dream world, swimming in the deep ocean of her subconscious. I wondered what was happening for her, what strange adventures she was having.

Jane has always been hard to wake once she is asleep and that knowledge was doing me no good at all. What on earth made me think that fondling myself while lying next to my sleeping sister would be a good idea? What would she think if she woke? What would I say? How would I explain that it wasn't anything untoward, nothing incestuous. I should take my hands off my cock and go to sleep, I told myself. But some mad impulse made me ignore my thinking mind.

I'm not normally confronted by this kind of problem, but we were travelling and staying for a few days at our uncle's. We were hitch hiking across the country on our way to our dad's house in fact. Our folks had been separated since we were teens and he'd moved away. We decided to pay him a visit after her 18th birthday, to reconnect. We'd both spent a lot of years blaming him for what happened, especially Jane, and it was time to let go of that. Becoming a legal adult seemed like a good opportunity to do so.

So here we were, couch surfing as we made our way up the country. Our dads brother suggested that we stay with him for a few days on the way and get to know him again. We accepted gratefully. The spare room had one king bed, but we had separate duvets and anyway we weren't worried about sleeping in the same bed. We did it for years on family holidays. We'd seen each other in our undies lots of times in the past (although not since we'd grown up I guess) and sleeping in our pyjamas next to each other was hardly something to feel uptight about.

Not uptight maybe, but in the dark hours I discovered that I was definitely feeling something. In those deep drowsy recesses of the night everything seems different. I love my sister, feel protective toward her, but something else had begun growing inside me now. Feeling her warmth lying next to me, her scent filling my nostrils, was intoxicating me. I could smell her hair, some kind of fruity shampoo, and her girlish perfume, now mostly worn off by the activities of the day. And beneath it all an undertone of sweat and skin. My cock fattened and I couldn't help touching it gently, then squeezing it in my hand.

Nothing incestuous? Who was I kidding? It was HER scent, HER proximity that had fuelled my ever ready lust. She'd always been cute, fresh faced and full of life, but this was something else.

I knew she trusted me, relied on me. I was her safety as we travelled, her immovable rock. One part of my mind was reassuring me, telling me that I would never take advantage of that. The other part had just stopped thinking about consequences. Unable to stop myself, I crept my hand under her duvet.

The rational part of me was shouting 'stop, you have to stop' inside my head. My throat felt swollen and full and I was trying to keep my breathing soft and quiet. I was lying on my back, she on her side facing away from me, but kind of 3/4 facing down. My fingers touched her back where her t-shirt had ridden up, gently stroking that smooth skin above her buttocks. I love those fine hairs there, at the base of the spine. I'd normally spend ages teasing a girl there with gentle tickles, but then the girls aren't usually asleep when I do that. I crept my fingers lower, stroking her over her flannel pyjama bottoms and she stirred a little, shuffling her bum and pushing against me. I wondered if my gentle caresses had entered her dreams, who it was that she imagined caressing her so.

I very carefully moved my hand to the elastic at the top and started to ease her pyjama bottoms down. It took ages. I worked patiently, every cm a victory, stopping often whenever I sensed she was starting to surface. It must have been a good half hour before I had uncovered her bum. I imagined her pale skin, the curves and sweeps of her arse like something from the lurid mind of a pervert luthier. My cock was hard and throbbing by this stage, leaking a little at the tip. I really wanted to pull back the covers and have a good look at her nakedness but I didn't dare. I wanted to pull her exposed flesh against my throbbing erection and bring myself off between the cheeks of her arse, pumping semen over her back. But I didn't dare.

Instead I lightly touched her, around where I guessed her pussy was peeking from between her thighs, and started to gently explore. I discovered she has hair around her anus, and it was the most erotic thing I could imagine. I stoked and caressed, touching her crinkled anal ring lightly with my fingers, feeling the puckered skin. I worked my finger around and around, aghast at myself for the violation of my sister, the abandonment of any sense of decency or morality. This was plain wrong.

I pulled my cock out of the front flap of my pyjamas, lubed my fingertip with precum and moved it back to her anus. I rubbed around it, the ring of muscle like a tight rubber grommet, and started working my way in it, dipping the tip of my finger into her back door. I licked my finger, tasting the musk from her sweaty arse after a day of walking and hot sticky car rides, then carefully moved it back, foraying further afield to touch her slowly engorging labia. To my excitement and delight I found a hint of moisture seeping out, and I smeared it around her swelling lips, lubricating them. Then it was back to her anus, slowly working my finger inside, a bit at a time, in and out. So slowly, so carefully, until eventually it was in up to the first knuckle, gripped by her smooth tight anal passage.

I started wanking my cock with my other hand, now slippery from the clear fluid dribbling out the end. I managed to keep enough presence of mind not to just roll over, stick my cock in there and rape her in her dirty fucking bumhole. Even so, it was a miracle she hadn't woken up.

And then, as I started to cum with big ropey spurts all over my stomach, I felt her stiffen, gasp, and I knew she'd come to. I froze, horrified at what I had just done.

I waited for a few seconds then slowly pulled my finger out of her used hole. I couldn't help taking a sniff before wiping it clean, and then I lay still, as if she hadn't just caught me red-handed in the act of violating her arse. She didn't say anything, just lay there, and I had no idea what to do. I stayed still for a bit then reached for my undies to wipe up the mess, trying to be as quiet as possible, wondering what she was thinking. God I felt so bad, so ashamed of myself, and I stoked her back, trying to soothe her, assuage my unforgivable betrayal. I expected her to shrug me away, turn away in anger, but she just lay there without reacting. Oh God, what if she says something to our uncle? To dad, when we get there? To mum? Will the police get involved? I'll be ruined. You fucking idiot, I told myself over and over through the long sleepless night.

In the morning she said nothing. When she looked at me I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Was it reproach in her eyes? No, it seemed like something else, something resolute, calculating. I felt terrible. I know I did wrong. But I'm not a bad guy. I just couldn't help myself. She enjoyed it, didn't she? I know she got wet when I was touching her. That's what I told myself anyway, and I spent the day trying to do nice things for her, to try to make up.

THE SECOND NIGHT

I went to bed early. Exhausted from getting no sleep the night before, I excused myself shortly after dinner and went up to our room. I contemplated sleeping on the floor, certain that Jane wouldn't want to share the bed, but I couldn't face the thought of such an uncomfortable night.

I didn't feel anything when she got into bed. I was dead to the world until something pulled me from the inky blackness of sleep. A pleasurable tingling sensation at my crotch woke me and I became aware that my penis was hard and throbbing. It poked out of the front of my pyjamas, exposed to the night air. A touch so light as to be almost imperceptible was moving up and down my shaft, like butterfly kisses. My hips were working involuntarily, and I was thrusting my cock into empty space, trying -- even in my sleep sodden state -- to get purchase against those teasing fingers. For fingers they were. Jane's fingers, stroking and caressing my erection, bringing it to life. I could feel her full breasts crushed against my back, her crotch grinding into my buttocks.

It felt like it went on for ever. Maddening, frustrating, exquisite. I think she must have kept me in that aroused state for an hour or more. It was hard to tell.

I wanted to grab her hand, thrust it against me, bring myself off, or to say something, to demand she give me relief, but I didn't dare. My violation of her the night before clove my tongue to the roof of my mouth. So I just twitched and thrust and whimpered while she brought me closer and closer to climax without ever letting me reach it.

She brought her thumb and first finger together in a ring and encircled my swollen, leaking knob, jacking me gently, pulling my foreskin slowly back and forth over the sensitive tip, using the least amount of friction possible to do so. Precum provided ample lubrication but then she took her fingers away, brought them back coated in thick goo. She rubbed them against my lips, thrust her fingers into my mouth so I could taste the secretions covering her fingers, salty and tangy like she had cracked open fresh oysters, plunged her fingers into the essence of the sea. I licked them eagerly and she pushed them back between her thighs, brought them again to my cock and smeared her juices around my knob.

"Oh God, Jane, Jane..." I whimpered and she leaned forward and bit my ear, hard.

"You filthy rapist. You dirty fucker. Like this do you?"

I nodded my head, but I wasn't prepared for what happened next, when she brought her other hand, similarly lubricated, to the crevice of my bum and pushed her fingers into my sphincter. Fingers plural. Well, one finger led the way but once I was loosened up, a second soon followed. Then a third. She thrust deep and hard inside me, churning her hand in my arse, opening me up and plundering my virgin rectum without mercy. And now, finally, she gripped my penis tightly, pumping me front and back, until I jetted my semen into the sheets, squirting again and again in a haze of shame and pleasure and humiliation.

I lay there, dazed, my arse sore and my penis growing limp, until she coldly commanded me to roll over into the wet patch of my own cum. I did so without question. When I reached over to touch her, she told me sharply to NEVER touch her again without permission. Then I had to listen to her masturbating herself to an intense orgasm, her squelching cunt and her panting leaving me in no doubt as to the power of her arousal.

I fell asleep that night wondering about what would happen tomorrow, our last night in that house. I both longed for and dreaded what was coming.