Stacy King and I Ch. 02

"Okay, thanks. That helps," she said as her laughter subsided. Her voice still had that lilt to it that indicated that her previous mood had lightened.

"Now let me ask you something. Are you okay with what we've done?" Please say yes, please say yes!

Without hesitation, she lifted her head up and looked in my eyes with her crooked smile. "Absolutely." She accented it with a quick peck on my lips, staying close when she continued on, "In fact, I don't see why it has to be a one-time thing...Do you?" Her face turned to a nervous furrow she was trying to hide behind a hopeful, yet plastic smile.

Leaning forward to kiss her again, I replied, "Absolutely not." Her doubt faded and her eyes lit up again as she pressed her lips to mine and gave me a momentary, albeit excited kiss of appreciation and unfettered joy. She readily dropped back down to her previous position, now buried much more closely and pulling herself tightly against me. I kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.

"Can I ask you another question, Stace?" More seriously this time.

"I guess." She had picked up on my tone, it appears.

"You seemed disappointed that I hadn't reach under your clothes. Why is that?"

"I don't know," she answered without conviction.

"Uh-uh. I've heard that before. Please tell me."

Continuing to lie on me and coiling my chest hair around her finger idly, she began, "Well...I know you think I'm pretty, but I know I'm...fat. And I just..."

"WHOA! Back up. What do you mean you're 'fat'?" I demanded.

"I know people think I have a pretty face and guys like my boobs, but I'm not exactly thin. For all I know, you're a chubby chaser. I know I'm not really sexy. And I know that 20-year-old guys get boners for no reason all the time or would screw anything that has a hole, so the fact that you would find me convenient to get you off is no big surprise. But you've told me what's going on and I trust you, so it's cool."

It wasn't cool. At all. I sat her up so I could get out from under her, and I scooted back against the headboard. She looked like she was about to cry. "I'm sorry. I made you mad. I ruined it."

"You know what? You did make me mad! No one talks about my sister the way you just did!" She was taken aback, visibly shocked. "If you think all you are is a pretty face and set of great tits, you're screwed in the head. You're amazing, Stacy! And I'm not just talking in the sense that you're brilliant and creative and kind, although you ARE all those things. I'm talking specifically about your body right now." She opened her mouth to say something, but I held my hand up in a sign to wait and continued on without pausing.

"Let's run down the list, shall we, starting at the top: your hair. You have a gorgeous mane of chestnut brown hair that frames your perfect face beautifully and reflects the sun with shimmering gold strands woven throughout. I especially like when it is tucked behind one of your perfect ears, like when you used to help me with homework and when we talked last night at dinner. Your eyes are a deep emerald that pierces my heart with every gaze. Your nose is a perfect slope toward your luscious pink lips which serve as a gateway to your glimmering white teeth and amazingly talented pink tongue.

"Your gorgeous head sits atop a perfect neck which makes me ache to kiss it. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to kiss you beneath that ear that serves to hold back your hair. That same pedestal is mounted on a voluptuous frame, soft to my touch and firm to my grasp. I can feel your muscles move beneath it, your ribs and core muscles rippling at my touch. Your breasts, round and firm create a valley for my pleasure and beg for my attention. They often compete to draw attention from your eyes.

"Your arms must have been taken from the statue of Venus. She would be more famous and more admired were your arms still attached. They are smooth and creamy, soft to my touch, yet firm muscle tensing underneath a layer of warmth. When they reach over your head in pleasure or wrap around to hold me, I am trapped by my own ardor for you. The hands which cap them are regal, crowned with beautifully manicured nails, cared for by the woman of my dreams. They are agile, yet strong, gentle and feminine.

"Your waist tapers in beautifully before curving back out at the hips, the hips which dance with every step, making my blood pressure rise. I'm mesmerized by the sway of your hips, the dance of your butt. When you walk past, I can't help but look up to watch you walk away. That perfect, round butt sits on two ivory pillars, flexing and tensing with each step, yet holding a softness that begs to be touched and admired. The curve of your thighs and your calves draw my eye and I can't look away. My goddess makes contact with the earth with her beautiful feet, soft and smooth. The arch gives your foot a graceful elegance, clearly crafted by the Divine. Each toe curls at my touch and begs for more of it. But even more so, my touch begs for your toe and your foot and your leg and your butt and your hip and your waist and your breast and your arm and your hand and your neck and your face and your ear and your hair."

I had been watching each body part as I described it, following her form with my eyes and my heart. I was lost in her beauty and had not looked at her face since moving to her neck in my tribute. When I looked back to her face, I noticed her eyes red and filled with tears, lines of emotion rolling down her cheeks after overflowing those emerald pools. I hadn't realized it until I felt a tear roll down my own cheek, but I had been moved by my own tribute of my sister's form.

"There." My voice cracked so I cleared my throat. "There," I repeated, lifting my chin in confidence and defiance to Stacy's point of view, "Amazing."

I was caught off guard by Stacy's lunge at me. Instinctively my arms wrapped around her back while she was clinging to my neck, sobbing behind my left ear. She was resting on her right hip on my left side, her legs out to her side, curled under her. She clung to me for several minutes, crying. What must have been years of self-rejection came pouring out on my neck and shoulder. She never said a word. She simply cried. I held one arm around her waist and moved the other to stroke her head and hair in consolation, probably mine as much as hers. Who would have done this to her? Who could have said these kinds of things that would make her hurt so bad and see herself as anything less than beautiful?

I held her in silence, stroking her hair, not moving until she was ready to. After a while I felt her relax. She still clung to me for a couple of minutes before I felt her shift and heard that sniffle that tells me she's trying to pull herself together. I reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a box of tissues to sit on top before removing one and patting her arm with it. She took it from me and then sat back a little, her hair hanging like a curtain to hide her as she cleaned up her nose and eyes. I handed her another one and she shook a little with an embarrassed laugh. I simply smiled.

"So, (sniff), why do you have tissues in your nightstand, dear brother?" she asked, her voice smiling.

"So I don't have to go all the way out to the couch to jerk off."

This made her laugh even more and she looked up at me with that gorgeous smile, even though her eyes and nose were still red. She continued to blot under her eyes as if trying to push the stray tears back through the bottom lashes, and the occasional sniffle would disrupt her breathing.

"Thank you, Thomas," she finally said, her face downcast again for a moment before looking at me again. "I needed to hear that. It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful," I told her. "Maybe one day you can tell me how all that shit got in there," I said, gently poking her forehead.

"Maybe." Another sniffle. "But right now I'm spent and I need to clean up. I must look a fright."

"Not at all."

She smiled at that. "I guess I need to grab my stuff and take a shower. Do you want to go first?"

"Or I could keep you company?"

"Maybe soon. I'm not...ready...for you to see me...like that. Yet."

"I understand. Although," I said as I bounced up off the bed, "you already know how I feel about (waving my hands around awkwardly toward her) all that." I winked at her.

She winked back.

Helping her off the bed, I pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head again.

She tilted her head back and looked up at me, then tapped her lips with her index finger. I leaned down and kissed her for just a moment. But it was enough. She backed up, satisfied and smiled as she turned to gather her stuff from her room to set up the bathroom with her various washes and...whatever girls need all that stuff for.

While she was in the shower, I unmade the couch, throwing the sheets in the hamper and putting the blanket and pillow back in the closet. I checked the weather on the local station which interspersed local news with the national broadcast. Hot and sunny: almost a hundred degrees with 89 percent humidity.

Gee, really? In Georgia?

After a few minutes I heard the shower stop and walked back there to ask her about going out to breakfast. I knocked on the door and after a moment it opened, the heat, steam forced out, mixed with the scent of her shampoo and/or body wash.

"Uh...I..." What had I come back here for? I couldn't remember. Stacy opened the door and was wrapped in one of the dark green oversized bath towels my mother had selected for our bathroom. Her hair was dripping wet and she had just begun to comb it when she opened the door. I knew this because there was a portion with streaks in it while most of her hair was still curly and unkempt. She immediately continued combing it while I stood there.

"Hello? Earth to Thomas."

Not paying attention to her voice, I still tried to remember what I needed. "Yeah, umm...Damn." I took her hand and pulled her from the bathroom into the living room a few feet away. She was surprised, but not resistant.

"AH! What are you doing?!" She stopped when I let go, but then I backed up a few feet and just gazed at her.

"I just needed to see you like this. I mean, that's not why I knocked, but when I saw you in a towel, I wanted to see your body again."

"Thomas," she scolded, "I already told you I'm not ready..."

I waved her off, "No no no. I know that. I'm not talking about that. I just want to see you in your towel."

"What?" She melted.

"You already know how beautiful I think you are. Just let me look at you." I scanned up and down her body. Her arms and shoulders were bare, as were her legs, her skin pink from the hot shower. The towel pressed her breasts together, creating a tight line of cleavage, and the bottom edge of the towel barely covered her butt. "Would you, um, would you turn around for me? Slowly?"

She tilted her head with a crooked smile as if considering my request while also appearing flattered by it. She put her hands on her hips, her right still holding the comb, and turned around, keeping her heels mostly off the ground. "There," she giggled, "Can I go finish getting ready now?"

"Not yet. Would you turn around again and stop with your back to me?" I was getting more nervous with my requests. I felt like an idiot, but here I was, asking anyway.

With a smirk and a huff, she turned around again, stopping as requested. She stuck her arms out to the side, asking the wall, "Like this?"

"Perfect," I muttered. I just sat there admiring her body: her arms and legs, the swell of the towel... "Now drop the towel."

Her head snapped around over her shoulder and she looked at me with an amused gasp, her mouth gaping yet she was not offended.

"No! Not like that! I'm sorry. I mean, could you unwrap it and drop it down to your waist. I won't see anything but your back. But I want to see it."

She looked up as if she was considering it. After a few seconds she turned back around and tossed the comb on the couch then brought her arms in front of her. I saw the towel loosen and stretch out to either side, her knuckles visible at the bunched corners. She slowly worked it down, revealing more of her perfect back, her waist becoming narrower as the towel lowered. The towel stopped just as her hips began to flair. The towel was shaped by two orbs pressing against it as she held it tightly to her ass to prevent it from sagging lower.

For a moment she just stood there, mostly naked in my living room, feet from me. Were I in front of her I would have seen her magnificent breasts and her vulva, but today I would settle for this. After a few seconds, she playfully wiggled her hips back and forth, keeping the towel taut, before quickly pulling it back up and laughing as she tucked it into her breast. She quickly grabbed her comb and hustled back into the bathroom before closing the door.

That was great! She was playing with me, but that was great. I was right about her beauty. It's beyond imagination. I'm smitten with my sister.

End Chapter 2