Summer, My Sister's Best Friend

Whenever she was there with me, pretending that I was her boyfriend and we were visiting my sister, instead of me living with my sister, I'd talk to Summer over coffee as if she was my girlfriend. Apparently, as if afraid to separate from us for fear that her brother would officially be dead, the three of us were always together. Going places together and doing things together, whenever we went to the movies, feeling as if I was dating her, with me on one side of her and my sister on the other side of her, Summer sat in the middle between my sister and me.

In a way, I'm glad my sister didn't marry Hank. I wouldn't want my sexual fantasies and dreams sullied by incest, not that we were blood related but it was too close to incest for me to think of Summer as my sexy, off limits sister-in-law. Not wanting to spoil my dream by thinking of her as forbidden fruit, I'd much rather think of her as just Summer, my sister's best friend. Actually, after having grown to know her and like her as a person, instead of just as a love interest, she was my best friend too. If even only platonically, I couldn't imagine my life without Summer in it.

After years of waiting, it was close to Christmas, 1977, when I was 27-years-old and Summer was 35-years-old that I caught her beneath the mistletoe. As if she was an angel standing there in the soft glow of the Christmas tree light behind her, I was so excited to finally make my move. I couldn't wait to finally tell her how I felt about her. I couldn't wait to take her in my arms and kiss her. Hoping to part her lips with my tongue, I wondered if she'd allow me to slip her my tongue or, perhaps, allow me to even feel her big breasts. My imagination was filled with kissing and kissing her while she reached down to feel my cock through my pants and I reached around her to feel her sweet ass.

Alas, not meant to be, my chance to finally kiss her, my sister beat me to the punch. I just stood there with my mouth open in shock. Having had a little too much to drink, Christine came from out of nowhere to wrap one arm around Summer's slim waist before moving her hand down to squeeze her ass and cup her breast with her other hand. Taking Summer by surprise, she locked lips with her best friend and when she tried parting her lips with her tongue, Summer broke away.

"Christine! What are you doing?" Seemingly oblivious that my sister was lesbian and had been lusting over her, she looked at my sister in total shock. "I'm not that way Christine. I love you like a sister, not as a lover," she said looking from my sister to look at me with sudden sexual interest. "I'd much rather your brother kiss me and feel my ass and my breast than to kiss you and be felt by you," she said.

She looked at me again as if she was about to kiss me or as if she was hoping that I'd kiss her and grope her instead of my sister. Instead, stunned by my sister touching her, feeling her, and kissing her, frozen into inaction by what Summer had just said, I just stood there silently staring as if she was an image that was about to disappear. Instead of professing my love for her, I did nothing. When I should have confessed my feelings for her and when I should have kissed her, I didn't.

Her words, "I'd rather your brother kiss me and feel my ass and my breast than to kiss you and be felt by you," echoed in my mind.

The shock that I felt by what she said overwhelmed my sexual excitement. I didn't know what to do. Such an awkward moment, I didn't know what to say. I should have told her that I loved her. Having missed my chance, in hindsight, I should have taken her in my arms and kissed her. Then, after kissing her, I should have squeezed her ass and felt her breast but, instead, as if I wasn't interested in her when I was, I did nothing and remaining silent, I said nothing.

Running through my head in the way of a runaway freight train gaining speed down a track, her words haunted me for years. What was I thinking? Why didn't I tell her that I loved her and have always loved her. Instead of just standing there, I should have kissed her and I would have kissed her had my sister not kissed her first and ruined my chance. Not wanting to seem like the lecher or the opportunist, a brother and a sister lusting over the same woman, figuring that I'd have another chance one day soon, I allowed my chance to kiss her, hold her, touch her, and feel her to slip through my hands.

Having delayed too long, with her in and out of so many relationships, always on the rebound, my timing with her was never right. I'll kiss her tomorrow when she comes to the house, I thought. I'll kiss her the next day if she doesn't come to the house tomorrow. One day soon, when the time is right, I'll get up the courage to kiss her. Then, if she allows me to kiss her, if she accepts my tongue in her mouth, I'll feel her ass through her skirt, fondle her big breast through her blouse, and finger her nipple through her bra. Every night after that fateful day, knowing full well that I'd be kissing her soon, I dreamt of kissing, touching, holding, hugging, and feeling Summer.

* * * * *

Only and unfortunately, after that fiasco of my sister feeling and kissing Summer, no doubt, uncomfortably embarrassed, Summer didn't come around anymore. In between marriages and before she married another bad man, I lost track of her when she moved out of state. After seeing her and talking to her nearly every day for nine sexually frustrating years, for her to just disappear without even saying goodbye broke my heart. As if her sudden disappearance turned me into a zombie, with her not there to make me smile and give me hope that I'd be with her one day as a couple, I continued living my life just going through the motions.

After a while of getting use to my living the rest of my days without Summer, when I figured that I'd never see her again, it was then that I told my sister how I felt about her best friend. Unable to get her out of my mind, I was unable to have a meaningful relationship with any woman other than the brother and sister non-sexual relationship that I had with my sister. I thought she was gone and left with my heart broken forever. Then, when my sister fell ill with breast cancer eight years later, out of the blue and as if she had never left, Summer returned in Christine's time of need to help care for her.

A good looking man now, I had packed on some muscle meat. I was thirty-five-years-old then and Summer was forty-three-years-old. She didn't look like any forty-three-year-old woman that I ever saw. She more looked thirty-five-years-old than I did.

With her looking younger and me looking older, meeting somewhere in the middle with our middle-aged appearances, we more looked like we belonged together than we did when I was 18 and she was 26. With her no longer riding on the back of motorcycles and wanting bad men, with the both of us more mature, maybe I had a chance with her now. With the timing right, even with my sister so sick, maybe this was my turn to have with Summer. Maybe all along, now that we're older, this was our serendipitous destiny to be thrown together by my sister's deadly illness.

Alas, always gone before I came home from work and still able to smell her perfume, Shalimar, as if the essence of her was haunting me, I never got to see her. Now knowing that I loved her, my sister would tell me how she looked and all that she said, but it wasn't nearly the same as seeing her. If only I could see her just once more, I'd ask her if she was happy. With the emptiness of rejection in the pit of my stomach, I figured that maybe she didn't want to see me. Glad that she was there for Christine, I told myself that she wasn't there to see me but to care for my sick sister.

Then, one day, with my sister resting comfortably, figuring my sister told her how I felt about her, Summer stayed to wait for me. When I came home from work that fateful day, seemingly as if I was coming home to my wife, she was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was so surprised. Seemingly as if she had never left, in the way that the three of us sat around the kitchen table talking and drinking coffee, her sitting there and smiling at me comforted me.

"Summer," I said wanting to run to her to hold her, hug her, and kiss her. Yet fearing that I'd frighten her into disappearing again in the way my sister did when kissing and feeling her, now that she was here, I didn't want her to leave again.

Yet, just as I did eight years before when she told my sister that she'd rather kiss me and have me feel her body than my to have my sister kiss her and feel her body, I just stood there staring at her. So taken by her beauty, I was paralyzed to do anything other than to look at her while imagining being naked and in bed with her.

"Hi Stephen," she said. "Have a cup of coffee with me," she said giving me that smile that made me swoon. "We need to talk."

Talk? About what? My sister? I already knew that my sister was dying. Maybe she wanted to discuss the funeral arrangements. Maybe wanting to rub another one of her bad boyfriends in my face, she wanted to update me on who she was fucking and sucking now.

Seventeen years of lusting over Summer and for what? I never even so much as held her hand, looked deeply in her big, blue eyes, or moved the strands of her blonde hair from her face that always fell in her eyes. Frozen in place as if she was an apparition coming to me in my dream, she stunned me when she stood, walked to me, and put her hands on my hips to give me a pelvis to pelvis dry hug of a hump. Then, as if I was dreaming and as if I was having the sexual fantasy that I had so very many times of kissing her after not kissing her when she stood beneath the mistletoe, she kissed me squarely on the lips.

Summer kissed me. I couldn't believe that Summer kissed me. Right then and right there, nothing else mattered. Forgetting everything that happened over the past seventeen years and forgetting everyone in my life but for my sister, the only thing that mattered was that Summer just kissed me. She kissed me. She really kissed me.

In all the years I had known her, she never hugged me before. In all the years that I lusted over her, she never kissed before. Even though she didn't try to part my lips with her tongue, I wasn't disappointed by her kiss. Rather, I was sexually stimulated by the feel of her lips against mine.

Maybe because I hadn't kissed very many women in my thirty-five years of being a virgin or maybe because it was Summer kissing me and not someone else, never have I been kissed like that before. As if her kiss was meant to be, it was magical. Something that I wouldn't forget for the rest of my life, it was memorable. I heard bells. I heard Heavenly music playing. I heard angels singing. My pulse was racing and my heart was beating as if I had just run and won a marathon. I was in love.

"I missed you," she said smiling at me while making eye contact. Finally, looking in my eyes as if looking in my soul, she noticed me. "How've you been?"

Not one to allow this opportunity to pass after pining over her for nearly two decades, I took her in my arms and returned her kiss with mine. This time, unlike my sister, she allowed me to part her lips. I French kissed Summer. I was French kissing Summer, my sister's best friend while my sister was dying in her sick bed. I was finally French kissing Summer, the woman of my dreams. Still wearing Shalimar, her perfume carried me away with her lips.

"Summer—"

"Don't talk now. We'll talk later," she said putting her manicured finger to my lips to look deeply in my eyes. Her look was if her first time seeing me. "I know everything. Christine told me how you feel about me," she said pausing. "I was blind before but I see you now. After being away from you for so long and thinking about you always, I'm ready to love you Stephen, if you still want to love me."

Teaching me how to love a woman, she kissed and kissed me while surrendering me her tongue. When I didn't move to touch her for fear that she'd flee in the way that she fled when my sister touched her, she put one of my hands on her ass and my other hand on her breast. This time, unlike my sister, she allowed me to feel her through her short skirt, fondle her breast through her blouse, and finger her emerging nipple through her bra. A dream come true and the woman of my dreams, I was finally kissing and feeling up Summer.

"Make love to me Stephen," she said whispering her lust for me in my ear.

"Right here?" I looked at her as if she was drunk or crazy and she wasn't either of those things. "Right now?"

I was shocked. I felt pressured. Sexually excited but nervous, with her finally calling my bluff, I was a thirty-five-year-old virgin and she was so very sexually experienced. With her being with so many men, I feared that I'd disappoint her by not sexually satisfying her.

"Christine is comfortably sleeping. With the medication she's on, she won't awaken for hours," she said.

As soon as she humped me, hugged me, and French kissed me, I had an erection. Obviously feeling my cock pushing against her soft stomach, she reached her hand down the front of my jeans to feel my erection through my pants, something I had dreamed about her doing for years. Then, doing something that I only sexually fantasized she'd do while masturbating over having sex with her, she unzipped me while French kissing me.

As if I was dreaming and fantasizing the whole experience, I felt her hand reach inside my pants. I felt her fingers feeling my cock through my underwear. Then, she pulled my briefs forward and reached her hand inside my underwear. Summer was feeling my stiff prick while kissing and kissing me and while I felt her beautiful body through her clothes.

As if pulling out a gun from a holster, she pulled out my hard cock from my jeans. She kissed me again while fondling the head of my prick with her fingertips and while I squeezed her round ass through her short skirt, felt her big breasts through her blouse, and fingered her erect nipples through her bra. Only this time, with the both of us heating up, everything we did was more passionate than any dream and any sexual fantasy that I ever had of her. Lifting the back of her skirt, I felt her panty clad ass before moving my hand to the front of her to cup her panty clad pussy.

Having never seen the impression of her nipples before, I was staring at them while fingering them now. She had huge nipples and I pulled out her erect nipples more through her blouse and bra while she kissed and kissed me as she fondled my cock. I loved feeling her big breasts through her blouse and bra while kissing and kissing her. Then, when she started to stroke my prick to a harder erection, was when she fell to her knees to take me in her mouth.

Summer was blowing me. Finally, the love of my life, Summer, was sucking my cock. Something that I dreamt of her doing for seventeen long, sexually frustrating years, she was doing now. I couldn't believe the love of my life, my sister's best friend, was sucking my cock.

As if she sucked me for the first time last night instead of forty-five years ago, with the memory of her blowing me permanently etched in my mind, I remember her looking up at me with her bright, blue eyes, while she was poised on her knees with my big, hard, hairy prick in her mouth. All I could do was to look down at her and stare while enjoying the warm, wet sensation of my stiff prick in her mouth. With me still being the virgin that I was, stupidly saving myself for Summer and having never received a blowjob before, I had nothing to compare it to, other than this was the best feeling that I've ever had in my life. All that I could do was to put a gentle hand to the back of her blonde, beautiful head.

Not wanting to prematurely cum, I could feel the passion swelling up inside of me. Even though I so wanted to cum in her beautiful mouth, I needed to know what it felt like to cum inside of her pussy before cumming inside of her mouth. As if I was Tarzan and she was Jane or as if I was Superman and she was Lois Lane, I reached down for her, scooped her up in my arms, and carried her to my bedroom.

Watching her while not believing she was there in my room, she stood by my bed, while I made myself comfortable. I watched her as she slowly stripped off her clothes. A sexy striptease that has played through my mind for years, I've been waiting nearly twenty years to see her naked. Not wanting to rush her undressing by interrupting her show, I didn't want to miss a thing.

As if she was giving me a personal striptease show, I watched her slowly unbutton her blouse while looking at me and watching for my reaction. I watched her remove her blouse and toss it on my bed. Standing there in her sexy, low cut bra and short skirt, unable to control myself from touching her and feeling her, I reached for her and we kissed and kissed while I felt her breasts and fingered her nipples through her bra. So firm yet so soft, she had such a beautiful body.

Standing there in her bra and short skirt, I watched her step back from me to unbutton and unzip her skirt. Now standing there in her low cut bra and white bikini panty, we kissed and kissed again while I felt and squeezed her ass through the thin material of her panty before running my hand between her legs to cup her pussy through her panty. She gasped and, with a pent up lust that I've never known, I quivered with sexual excitement. I was feeling Summer's panty clad pussy. My sexual fantasies and dreams come true, I was finally about to have sex with Summer.

Then, with her still standing, pulling her to me with my arm wrapped around her waist and my face resting against her bra clad breasts, I pushed her panty aside with my finger. Testing the water, something I've only done in my dreams, I felt her warm wetness. I remember her being so very wet. Having never fingered a woman's pussy before, I was stunned that she'd be so wet. I even remember thinking that she peed herself but she hadn't peed herself. She was too thickly, sweetly, sticky for that.

Finally, Summer was wet for me. Finally, Summer wanted me as much as I wanted her. Just as Summer had made me hard, I had made Summer wet.

Just in case she changed her mind about me after we had sex, trying to record every image and every sensation of feeling in my mind, after seventeen long years of waiting for Summer to notice me, I wanted to remember this day forever. Not wanting to let her go, never wanting to let her go, I couldn't stop kissing her, touching her, and feeling her. Then, with the both of us on the bed, she started undressing me. Once I was naked, inexperienced in making love to a woman, she showed me what to do to make love to her. Seemingly, at first, she didn't know that I was a virgin but I was. She didn't know that I had been saving myself for her but I had.

If I thought her blowjob was amazing, it paled in comparison to the first time that my cock parted her pussy lips. Kissing and kissing her while on top of her, I felt her hand reach down for me. Not wanting to rush things, taking my time, I wanted to make sweet love to her instead of fucking her. To this day, I remember the warm gush that I felt when my cock penetrated her and slowly slid in deeper. If this is what it feels like to make love to Summer, I was glad that I waited.

Slowly I humped her while she humped me. No record setter, being that I was the first time that I ejaculated in a woman, she got me off within only a few minutes. Instead of rolling off of her and instead of rolling over to go to sleep, as if she was the best ride at the amusement park, I wanted to make love to her again and again. We made love all night. In between making love to her, I fucked her. I pounded her with all the pent up lust that I had saved for her. Now after making love to Summer, I was fucking Summer, really fucking her and she was fucking me really fucking me.