Stacy King and I Ch. 03

"Whoa," she broke away and looked me in the eye with a smile, but didn't move my hand away, "someone's getting fresh. And it feels like you're getting worked up again."

"I can't help it," I argued. "You know you're hot."

She responded with a playful kiss. "Be that as it may," she let go of my erection and pulled my hand out of her shorts before backing away, causing my hand to fall away from her bra, "we have some plans for this afternoon and evening. I promise if you can wait, I'll make it worth your while."

Walking out of the bathroom, she gathered both of our t-shirts, tossed mine to me and put hers on. "You can't go out like that, she said, pointing down. Most places require pants."

"Okay, let me go change my underwear," I replied.

"No. I cleaned you up enough that you should be okay. Besides, if I have to sit in my own cum, you should have to, too." With that she winked at me. I hadn't even thought about the fact that she hasn't changed either. Her panties must be soaked.

She walked back into the bathroom to check her hair and, reapplying her lipstick, asked if I was ready to go. I pulled up my pants as she watched, leaning on the sink, and I nodded my head like an idiot.

"Good. Let's go have some fun." With that, she walked past me, an extra wiggle in her hips. I couldn't help but reach down and slap it. "OH!" she squealed, jumping at the shot, and turning to look at me, laughing and rubbing her right cheek, tried to soothe the sting. She smiled that crooked smile and wagged her finger at me before taking a few steps to the couch and placing her hands on the arm rest, arching her back and sticking her hips out, shaking them at me.

"You missed a spot," she said. I approached her, waiting for her to stand up and say, "Are you kidding? I'm not giving you a free shot!" Instead she just stood there, ass out, facing forward. She wasn't even looking back to see if I was coming. I walked over to her, raised my arm back and held it, waiting for her hand to come back and cover her ass.

She never moved. I let my hand fly and my palm stung when I made contact with the denim covering her left cheek. THWACK! She flinched, but didn't grunt or complain. Standing up, she rubbed her butt and turned to me with an innocent smile. "There," she said, "Now I'm balanced out. Thank you." Without another word, she walked toward the front door, grabbed her phone and purse off the ottoman, turned the knob and walked out into the breezeway.

I don't know if I was stunned or just stupid, but I was expecting her to come get me. I guess I just snapped out of it because I quickly followed her, pulling the locked door closed. She was at the bottom of the stairs by the time I caught up with her. She continued to work those hips as we walked to the truck. She stood outside the passenger door waiting for me. I opened the door for her and when she stepped onto the runner, I reached for her ass again.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped.

I froze, panicked. "I, uh, I was just...uh...helping you in?"

"I don't think so." She dropped into the seat and looked out the front window, ignoring me.

Shit. I've pissed her off. I crossed a line. I closed her door and my stomach was in knots as I walked around the back of the truck. A million thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. I opened the driver's side door and climbed inside. With my stomach tense, I turned to Stacy to apologize.

"Stace..." I looked up.

"Yes?" Her eyebrows were raised and she was smiling. She broke into a fit of laughter.

"You bitch!" I said, laughing myself.

Her jaw dropped as she had a look of amused shock. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

"Yes, I did!"

"Come here!" she said, grabbing my shirt. She planted a kiss on me, then with our lips still touching, said, "I love you," then backed up and stroked my cheek. She started laughing a little and shook her head.

I smiled at her and started the truck before backing out of the space and heading out for the evening. We lived pretty close to two state lines. One mid-sized city almost straddled the state line, with some of the outlying neighborhoods being in our state. In the other direction was another mid-size city, this one with a major university and businesses that catered to the college crowd. We decided to visit the university town since I acknowledge that it was more likely to have a more relaxed atmosphere and more variety to our tastes. It would take us about an hour-and-a-half to get there.

As we traveled the back road to the interstate, I rested my hand on the armrest between us and Stacy automatically placed her hand on top, her thumb idly grazing back and forth over the back of my hand as we rode and talked. I enjoyed our ride together, but figured I would use this time to address a serious issue.

"I was thinking."

"Uh oh. That's never good," she replied, deadpan.

"I know, but I'm getting better at it. Sometimes it actually produces an idea."

"Oooh, you ARE making progress." She smiled and winked, giving my hand a squeeze. "So, you've been thinking..."

"Since you haven't unpacked your things yet and your bed is still unmade, how do you feel about staying in my room? With me."

"Funny you should ask. I didn't want to impose, but..."

"Well, I wouldn't say it's not an imposition, but being the gentleman, I'm willing to make the sacrifice." I glanced at her sideways before returning my eyes to the winding side road that would lead us to the interstate.

"Gentleman, huh? Would this be the same gentlemanly behavior that makes you hit women at random?"

"Why, yes. Yes it would."

"And why would I want to share my bed with you?"

"Why WOULDN'T you want to share your bed with me? I'm an Adonis!"

That got a laugh, maybe even a little too exaggerated. She was mocking me now.

"Okay," I laughed. "Maybe not an Adonis."

"Yeah, maybe not. I was thinking maybe Larry the Cable Guy or Ernest."

"Hey! Easy..." Another laugh, causing her breasts to move invitingly. Not that I was looking. She IS my sister, after all. And that would be inappropriate.

"I would love to share your bed! I really have been thinking about it, but honestly I didn't want to push myself into your space. I do have my own room, so I didn't want to do that to you."

"Well, since you got here, you've spent EVERY night in my bed. It's getting old."

"Every night. I guess technically...since I only got here yesterday." Another wink. "But I still think we should make up my bed and unpack my stuff in there. Since the apartment is pretty small, this would give me my own closet and changing room. And if we ever had visitors, it would look suspicious if my room looked untouched and all my stuff was in yours. What do you think?"

"Wow. You've got it all planned out. I like the way you think. Except for the 'visitors' part. I don't like the thought of anyone coming in and imposing on our love nest."

"Well," she said, leaning into me, "we don't have to have any visitors. I'm just thinking, you know, just in case."

"No, you're right," I said. I smiled at her insightfulness, and was a little proud that she would want to share my bed. "I have to say, dear sister, that I hope our bed gets a lot more use than just sleeping."

"What do you have in mind."

"Everything."

"Everything?" she asked, emphasizing the "every."

"You heard me."

Leaning her head back against the headrest and turning her head to face me, she squeezed my hand. I made the turn onto the interstate. "Not long now," I said, indicating our arrival time.

"Be more specific," she said, breathlessly.

"It's just over the state line, so we're looking at about 20 minutes."

"No. Be more specific about 'everything.'" She squeezed my hand again. Her other hand settled between her thighs like she does when she's cold.

Nervous that I was going to go too far, I cleared my throat before beginning. "First, I want to see more of you. I want to undress you until you are down to your bra and panties. While in your underwear, I want to touch your body until you cum. Nothing is going to be off-limits, sibling or not." I heard a sharp intake of breath, but didn't look at her. "I want to peel your bra off of you until your beautiful breasts are fully exposed to my gaze. I will gaze upon them longingly, finally seeing the treasure I've been waiting for. Barely able to contain myself, I'll cup them in my hands, feeling the smoothness of the skin and the weight of your magnificent tits." Another shudder and moan. "Unable to control myself, I'll bring my mouth down and take a nipple into my mouth, feeling it rise against my tongue. I will be so enraptured I will probably ignore the second nipple for a little while...but I'll get to it soon enough.

"Having tasted of your breasts, I will begin to abuse them with my fingers, pinching and pulling on your nipples, still wet with my saliva, until you cum again." This time I heard a moan and saw movement out of the corner of my eye, her feet moving on the floorboard. "Not satisfied with only giving you two orgasms, my hands will trap your wrists and pin them to the bed over your head and I will kiss you with an urgent passion like you've never known. My mouth will likely travel back and forth from your mouth to your nipples, tasting the skin of your neck, jaw and ears, maybe licking along your cleavage," I said matter-of-factly, "but I'll decide that at the time. Who knows? I may not be able to leave your nipples, even to suck on your tongue." I shrugged my shoulders as if it didn't matter if it happened or not.

"Oh my God," she muttered, her feet slipping back and forth past each other on the carpet of the floor mat. I glanced over and her eyes were closed, the hand between her thighs moving subtly, the back of her thumb touching her crotch.

With a sly, satisfied smile (I couldn't help myself) I carried on.

"So," I sighed, "there you will be, topless on my bed, your nipples slick and shining with my saliva. I will rise up onto my knees and you'll try to follow, but I'll demand that you stay, definitely with a commanding bark, possibly calling you a bitch." She spasmed, her tits jiggling beneath her shirt. "But that won't be enough. I'll remove my shirt and demand that you unbutton my jeans. You'll probably try to touch my chest or abs when I move to straddle your hips, but I won't let you. Your job will be to unfasten my pants, not seek your own pleasure. You will unbutton my pants, and pull down my zipper, then return your hands over your head where I put them.

"Of course I'll have to stand up to remove my jeans, but I'll stand by the bed in those red boxer briefs I'm sure you'll love, given the passion you showed for my black ones." Her hips were swiveling and her breath catching. She was humping her hand.

"Wait," I said. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes and stopped moving, staring right at me with obvious lust. Maybe she liked being controlled. Dominated.

"Unbutton your jeans. You don't have to hide from me. I know you're rubbing your pussy. You may as well do it right." She bit her bottom lip and nodded. Her hands quickly unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. "Go ahead, slide them down if you need to." She hesitated. I hadn't seen her panties yet. She must have been debating.

"Did I stutter? I said pull your pants down so you can play with yourself." I turned my eyes back to the windshield, watching the road, but catching Stacy's movement in my periphery. She was doing it. Holy shit, she was doing it!

"Tell me, Stace. Are your panties still wet?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

"What was that?" I asked more boldly.

"Yes," she quickly replied.

"Yes what?" I hoped she knew where I was going with this. She should. We heard it all the time growing up. I also hoped I wasn't going too far with our game. The last thing I wanted was to make her freeze up.

After a momentary pause, "Yes, sir."

"Very good. Now touch yourself for me." I saw her hand reach between her legs as her other hand squeezed mine on the armrest. "Give it here." I leaned toward her a little, my eyes still facing forward. Her right hand raised up and she brought it close to my face. I leaned forward a little bit and smelled her fingers.

There it was. That smell from last night. That unforgettable scent of her arousal. "Again," I requested. Again, her hand disappeared in her crotch before it arrived beneath my nose again. "Closer," I requested. Her hand touched my lips. I opened my mouth and took her fingers in, causing Stacy to squeak as her breath escaped in a rush. My tongue played over the fingers in my mouth, savoring the light salty flavor. I closed my eyes for a moment, enraptured by the aroma and taste, marking them in my memory forever. I looked at her, her green eyes again piercing me. "Delicious," I whispered. "I'll have to get more of that. Her eyes closed and her shoulders hunched as her hand remained, levitating before my lips.

"Shall I go on?" I asked, quickly leaning away to my upright, all business posture.

My sister nodded absently, staring at me, almost zombified, her hand retreating to her panties. I looked down as her hand entered the waistband of her underwear. "Pink and black. Nice." She looked down at her underwear, then looked back to my face. Without a smile I looked her in the eye, then turned back toward the road.

"Where was I? Oh, that's right. I'm standing over your nearly naked form in just my underwear. Because your body is incredible, of course I'm hard as a rock, my cock pressing out the front of my underwear. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that you've taken off my jeans, I notice a dark spot at the head of my prick, where I'm leaking pre-cum into my briefs." I hear a whimper and notice her hand is really working hard. "Looking over your body, I see that your nipples are still extremely hard. And now the pink of your panties is growing darker. I can smell your arousal."

"Your pussy smells amazing. We both notice the twitch in my shorts. It's undeniable. The wet spot grows a little larger as I release more pre-cum in preparation to make love to you. With both of us this aroused, there's no stopping it now. So I'll climb up on the bed, spread your legs with my knee, and lean down to take your nipple...Oh, here we are. You'd better hurry up, Stacy."

"What?" She was kind of confused. She looked from me to the front window and noticed we were getting off the interstate. "Shit, Thomas," she complained as she scrambled to pull her jeans up, I was almost there. That was a shitty thing to do."

"Stacy," I said.

"What?!"

"Stacy."

She turned to look at me, a look of frustration on her face. I simply opened my mouth a little bit. She slowly took her hand, the one that had been in her panties, and as if reading my mind, reached toward my mouth. I turned my eyes back to the road to avoid an accident, confident that her sex-flavored fingers would soon be on my lips. Her fingertips tickled my bottom lip just as I slowed on my approach to the red light at the top of the ramp. I looked into her eyes with pure passion as I tasted her essence. I closed my eyes for just a moment, signaling that I was savoring the flavor. I pulled her close and planted a kiss on her mouth, letting her taste herself on my mouth. Before she pulled away, I whispered, "I can't wait to taste it right from the source."

Another shiver accompanied a returned whisper of "I can't either. I want you to taste my pussy." She kissed me once more before we were abruptly interrupted by a car horn.

We broke loose and I gave the "sorry" wave as I pulled forward to turn onto the main road. Of course the driver behind me probably didn't see it since the rear and side windows are tinted. While I merged into the evening traffic, Stacy finished pulling her pants on before pulling the visor down and checking her makeup in the mirror.

"God, T. I was almost there," she said, looking at me with a mix of irritation and amusement.

"I know. And I'll make it up to you, I promise." I gave her a light smile and kissed the back of her hand.

That crooked smile. "You better."

"So, I said, changing the subject, "Any moods for dinner?"

We finally settled on one of those fake southwestern chain restaurants, where little you would find on the menu would be in the southwestern or "Tex-mex" region except in other restaurants in the chain. After the waitress brought Stacy's Dr. Pepper and my Mountain Dew, Stacy was scanning over the tri-fold standup with the picture displays of specialty desserts.

"I was thinking," I said, drawing her attention away from the picture of the molten chocolate cake, "that we could go to the dollar movie after dinner."

"Oooh," she said with a mock flourish. "The dollar movie! You really know how to spoil a girl." She laughed at herself and gave me a wink. In fact, our little town growing up had a second-run movie theater that was very similar and we used to frequent it as a family before Stace and I would go on our own once I could drive. "That sounds like fun. What's playing?"

"I don't know. This theater has four screens and the floor is considerably less sticky than the one back home," I noted, raising my eyebrows as if trying to be a high-end critic, a game we used to play when we would watch movies growing up. Fortunately, both of us liked to talk, make snide remarks and throw our predictions at each other, in hushed tones, during the course of the movies we would watch together. That's one of the reasons our parents used to sit away from us and eventually stopped going altogether, opting to go on dates while we made plans to go to the movies. We would do it at home, too, much to the chagrin of our parents. Until they bought a DVD player for my room, at which point we began watching movies there, lying on my bed while spilling Reese's Pieces and pretzel salt on my bedspread.

"Is there a dollar store on the way?" she asked, expectantly.

"Mike and Ikes?"

"And Junior Mints."

"Perfect. And this theater is really well-maintained. And they have wonderful giant pretzels to round out the treats for your evening away," I had gradually moved to a cheesy British accent, straightening my posture and picking up my glass as I said it before bringing the straw to my mouth and pulling the soda through it with a downturned mouth and raised eyebrows.

"Splendid," Stacy replied in like gesture and accent. Extending her glass toward me, she continued the charade. "Cheers."

"Cheers," I replied, bringing my glass to hers and clinking the edges together before smiling at each other.

"Well," she said, looking at the menu, "if we're getting snacks at the movie as well, then we don't need a big meal. What kind of sampler do they have?" I looked on with her, sharing the menu (well, she was reading, I was trying to read it sideways, invading her personal space by leaning in over the table, where we were seated on touching edges, again, rather than across from each other. I took advantage and placed my hand on hers where she was pinning the menu down while following the description with her extended index finger. As soon as my hand touched hers, she looked up, smiling, before continuing her reading.

"Okay, here's a three-item sampler where you choose three, but I can't decide which three."

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm thinking the chips and salsa, quesadilla, fried cheese, and loaded potato skins."

"Their fried cheese is the best here, it's a creamy pepper jack unlike any other fried cheese I've ever had, so we have to get that. The other stuff is good, too. Their salsa has kind of a sweet taste to it, so it's worth trying, but I hate to kick out the quesadilla or potato skins for it. We could always get the sampler and then get the cheapest of the other appetizers."