Summer At The Lake With My Sister

So I fucked her, standing up, my sister in my arms, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, her hair falling every which way, reflecting the early amber morning glow, moans escaping her mouth that drove me beyond the limits of mad lust.

Most of the time I stared straight into her face, because I loved seeing that expression -- loved seeing how much joy the push of my cock gave her. Her face was a wild thing, out of control, full of feral joy. Her squeals erupted in sync with my thrusts.

But after a while I looked up and away, at the stark alpine amphitheater around us, the scenery that framed our lovemaking. This lake -- Baskin Lake -- had had meaning for me for so many years. But now it meant something more important and more sacred than ever before.

Sara and I fucked like that for a long time, moving fast and furiously against one another to stave off the cold and to impel ourselves to the orgasm we both wanted.

Sara came first. Her body quivered and the nails of her fingers dug into my neck. She shook her head and her hair spun wildly around. At last her pelvis rocked and I knew it had happened. That set me over the edge, and not 20 seconds later the spasm inside me surged and I filled her with all I had.

After perhaps another minute my cock and her pussy disengaged and I set her down. We still clung to each other on the lake's edge, gasping. I looked down and cum dripped off my cock and out of the opening of her cunt.

"Oh my God, Christopher," she said.

"Sara, that was . . . I don't have words. Incredible."

After what seemed like a long time, and when the sun finally rose high enough to warm us so we no longer needed one another's body heat, we pulled away from each other. We fumbled at our clothes and pulled them back on.

The rest of the morning happened in a hazy dream. Sara made coffee and I made breakfast. We said a few words to one another and then after our meal was done we broke down the tent and got dressed and prepared our backpacks to get ready for the hike back.

By 10 a.m. we were ready to go, with nothing left to do but to hoist the packs onto our backs, when Sara spoke.

"Christopher, I want to talk about this. About what happened."

"OK," I said.

She walked up to me and put her hands on my face and kissed my lips first and then my cheeks.

"I don't want this to stop," she said.

"I don't either," I said.

"I mean it," she said. "I don't know what this is, exactly. We can't get married. But I love you, and I'm always going to love you, and I think you'll always love me."

I pulled her closer.

"I do, and I will," I said. "We can't undo this. It's always going to be part of us. I want it that way."

"Let's make a promise," Sara said. "Right now. That whatever happens in the future, whatever happens in our lives, whoever we meet or fall in love with or marry, sometime -- I don't know when or where or how -- we'll do this again. I want that so much."

"I want it too, Sara," I said. And I meant it with every part of my being. "I promise."

We kissed then, for a long time, as the sun rose over us and the waterfall kept falling, until at last we broke apart and took up our backpacks and began the trek back to the trailhead.

I don't remember the hike back well. I remember bits and pieces of the scenery, and I remember Sara's lithe figure in her shorts and t-shirt, and I remember the cascade of blond hair that fell over her back and shoulders, but mostly what I remember is the feelings that crowded my brain as I walked. Feelings I could not make go away and did not want to make go away.

At last we returned to the trailhead and to the car, and we drove back home. We didn't talk that much, and we said nothing about what had happened at Baskin Lake.

* * * *

It's been seven days since Sara and I returned from the lake. I stare out the window from my seat in the airplane. It's about to taxi toward the runway. The plane will take me a thousand miles away from home. I will start my senior year of college.

All I can think about is my sister Sara.

We have pledged ourselves to each other; yet, I don't know when I'll see her again. She left home for college yesterday. But I see her like she's right next to me. Her eyes are shining, and her body is lean and supple and eager, and I want to embrace her with more passion than I've ever felt for anything or anyone else.

I don't know how or when it will happen. But I know, with every cell in my body, that Sara and I will go to the lake again, someday, high in the mountains, far away from everyone and everything else, and we'll fuck under the light of a late summer moon -- my sister and my lover, two become one, now and forever.