Sweet Nectar

When she heard what I was doing, she took hold of my face and pulled me tight against her pussy. I pulled my finger out of her and drank deeply of her juices. Then I let her pull me up her body and kissed her deeply, letting her lick her own juices from my face.

She looked at me and asked me if I knew she loved me. Then she rolled us over so she was on top again.

******

My sister’s entire body was flushed and wet from the sweaty workout I’d given her. My face was soaked with her juices and now she was rubbing her wet, open flower against my stiffened manhood. My own breathing was getting as ragged as hers. My sensitive shaft took in the contours of her patch of need. She looked me in the eye and told me to keep reading. I told her I wasn’t sure I could do that with her moving like she was.

She pouted a little, but she stopped moving and folded her hands on my chest, putting her full weight on me and told me to go ahead.

In the story, the bowler continued to kiss his mystery woman as she grasped him and pulled his engorged cock into her pussy. He started to rock back and forth; sliding himself in and almost out of her with slow, even strokes. She in turn moved in a counter rhythm meeting his thrusts and using her muscles to grip him as they each pulled back with anticipation for the next plunge.

My sister, not able to help herself, began her own slow slide up and down against my shaft. I could feel her little nub as she dragged it over the head of my rod.

The woman in the story wrapped her legs tighter around the bowler as his thrusts became more urgent. Her head was thrown back as he kissed her breasts and teased her nipples. Their bodies became a mass of wet, trembling movement as they continued to go faster and faster with their drive to achieve mutual orgasm.

At this, my sister started to kiss my chest and slowly slide downwards on my body.

In the story, the bowler stopped his movements and pulled slowly out of her pussy, she objected, mewling her no’s trying to use her legs to keep him inside her. But he pulled out anyway and pressed her flat while he crawled up her body and placed himself between her breasts. Then he started swinging his hips again and she took his cue and pressed her mounds against his slick shaft to create what friction she could.

By now, my sister was washing my belly button with her tongue and I could feel the bottom of her breasts swaying against the top of my shaft.

In the story the woman leaned her head up and flicked the tip of his rod each time he pushed through the valley of her breasts. He pushed harder and harder until she was able to grasp him in her mouth, giving a little suck on him.

My sister slid the rest of the way down, my body, looking at me as I tried to read. I could feel her hard nipples burn their way across my skin. As I watched, she let the tip of my shaft rise up in front of her face; then took hold of it with both of her hands. I gasped at the feel of her fingers as they almost choked my tool and she ran a thumb up the side closest to her. A clear round drop of liquid appeared at the top and she grinned at me.

She stuck her tongue out and touched it to the drop. I shuddered as she kissed the end and ran her tongue along the little slit. She looked up at me and told me to keep reading. I told her I didn’t think that would be easy, and she told me to try.

In the story, the woman continued to tease the end of the bowler’s cock with her tongue as he marveled at the feel of her pillowy soft breasts.

My sister licked me each time the story mentioned the woman’s mouth. I could not tell if I was continuing to leak, or if all the wetness came from her mouth.

When the man pushed himself over her breasts and started to use her mouth, my sister placed hers over the end of my shaft and sucked on me like a Popsicle.

I could not read as she did this because fireworks went off behind my eyes. I had never felt something so completely engulfing in my life. It was wet, it stung, where her teeth dragged against my straining skin, it was warm and comforting, it was so intense and so wonderful I wanted the moment to last forever and knew I would die first.

My body shook like an earthquake had centered in me. I erupted as she bobbed her head, sucking my life through my shaft, moaning around the head of my cock as I groaned my own prayer of thanks.

I must have blacked-out, because I awoke, completely at peace with the world, and watching her run her finger below her chin, then putting it in her mouth and making a popping sound as she pulled it back out.

She smiled at me and told me to keep reading.

I don’t know where I found the strength, but I picked the book up and found my place.

*****

In the story I was reading to my sister, the bowler got off the chest of the mystery woman that had come to his room, naked, and turned her over on her stomach. Then he had her get on her knees and he scooted up to her rear. With one swift stroke, he buried himself in her and she yelped from the pleasure of his thrust.

When I said this, my sister reached between her legs and took my shaft in her hand. Even with all that had happened, I was firm and felt strength returning as she stroked my manhood.

The woman in the story rocked back at him every time he pushed into her, trying to make him go deeper into her body. My sister held me in place as she rocked her wet opening across the tip of my shaft.

As the bowler grabbed the woman’s hips and pounded harder into her, my sister aligned my shaft with her hole and slid me into her quivering body.

I interrupted my reading as I experienced this new sensation. She felt at once warm, and wet, like velvet, with cream. I held my breath while I watched her, with her eyes closed, as she reached for her own breast and closed her hand over the bottom, pinching and pulling her nipple. She whispered to me to go on and read more.

With my voice shaking and hoarse, I continued. In the story, the bowler lifted the woman’s hips a little so he could hit the spot in her pussy that would give her the most pleasure and that would give him the extra friction he needed against the tip of his cock.

My sister began to rock back and forth as she sat on me, each movement making my voice catch as I tried to read.

In the story, the man leaned forward over the woman’s body and ran one of his hands from her hip up to her breast. He ran his hand all over her breast and nipple. He squeezed her, roughly, and pulled on her hard nipple as she cried out her encouragement.

My sister grabbed my hand and mashed it to her breast, rubbing it briskly over her own aroused nipple.

The bowler and the woman collapsed on the bed while he continued to pound into her and torture her breast. She moved her leg and he was able to reach more deeply into her.

My sister also collapsed on top of me and sought my mouth with hers. We grappled with our tongues, the book forgotten as she humped against my body. Out of instinct, I raised my knees, pinning her in the right place as I responded to her movements, sliding back and forth inside her.

No lessons are needed to learn the necessary movements of love. I was lost in another world of fluid movements, at once wet as the ocean, and warm as the womb. Maybe man seeks only to return to that safe harbor with what little he can fit in place. Maybe his most sensitive organ is a maestro of the symphony of feelings that can be performed for his rapt attention. How anyone could ever put to simple words the complex beauty of making love, I will never know. All I know is that we danced in each other’s embrace amid a glorious profusion of sight, color, and wetness. When finally we broke our kiss and gasped while lightning flashed through our bodies, we fell, exhausted into welcome oblivion.

My sister woke first, and shook me. She said we needed to get in the shower as she crawled off my body, slipping onto the floor. I followed, my knees wobbly, shivering from the movement of air across my wet body as we went into the bathroom.

*****

It was warm in the shower, and my sister stepped immediately under the water, soaking her hair. I followed her into the water and she put her arms around my neck and we kissed.

This kiss was not filled with the urgency and hunger of our earlier kisses. It was gentle and probing as we simply explored each other’s mouth. Somehow we were transported as though we were in the flow of a waterfall, kissing and drinking of each other as the water sluiced over our bodies.

My sister broke the kiss and took a bar of soap from its niche. She turned me so my back was against the wall and started to rub my chest. As she lathered my body, I took the time to look at her more closely than I ever had before. I knew I loved her, as I always had, but I also knew I was in love with her in a way a brother would not normally think about.

She had a smaller nose than I, thanks to one of my father’s horses. She had been kicked and plastic surgery had been required to repair the damage. She had gotten a prettier face as a result, and no shortage of guys wanting her on their arm, or probably in her bed, ever since. Her ears were close to her head with no perforations. She never seemed to wear jewelry of any kind, which seemed completely reasonable to me. Why try to improve upon perfection? Her eyes were a deep brown and flecked with glints of gold.

As I ran my gaze down her body, taking in her unblemished shoulders, her perfect little conical breasts, the curve of her belly and hips, her hand dipped and grasped my limp manhood, spreading the slippery lather over me. My shaft grew as though it were something alive and separate from the rest of me. My sister giggled and kissed me again while she covered every expanded millimeter of my organ with the soap.

She handed me the soap and asked me if I would clean her front. As she leaned back, her hands around my neck, I eagerly consented and proceeded to work up lather and spread it all over her breasts. She moaned a little and I continued to work the soap down over her tummy and hips. When I hesitated at her pubes, she told me to go ahead and make sure she was especially clean down there.

I carefully rubbed the lather through her curls and over every bit of her outside. Then I squatted down on my haunches and used the edge of the bar of soap to open her lips. Once I had run the bar back and forth enough to create more lather, I used my fingers to wash the inside of her lips and as far up inside as I could reach.

My sister did not make this an easy thing to do, as she swayed back and forth while I cleaned her snatch. When I stood up, she grabbed my head and kissed me hard, while she moved her knee up along my side.

Between her earlier ministrations, and the closeness of how I had just cleaned her, my brave and vigilant shaft was hard once more. She felt me bounce against her leg and adjusted herself, using my shoulders to lift herself just a little, and all of a sudden I was back inside her.

It was like being transported to another world. I knew we were in her shower, but in my mind all I could see was the waterfall again. There, we were locked in this intimate embrace and we were the only two people in the world, following God’s admonition to multiply and replenish. There was no doubt in my mind that we were made of the same cloth, the same flesh, and the same soul.

We rocked back and forth; somehow she ended up against the wall with me pushing up into her, her legs wrapped around my back. As we began to slide down to the floor, we broke our kiss, laughing as we collapsed. She pulled me to her and I began to rock in and out of her body, but she stopped me. The floor was too hard and she would get the worst of further pounding from that angle. So we got up. Except she leaned over, away from me and looked back, telling me that her back wouldn’t get hurt from this angle.

I readily moved into her from this rear angle and proceeded to piston in and out of her wonderful pussy. We continued in this position for a while. Then she reached underneath herself and grasped my balls and started massaging them. I cried out as I emptied the last of my fluids into her in what felt like my very spirit was being sucked out through my cock.

I collapsed on the floor again and watched as she cleaned herself and then me. She gave me a final kiss and turned off the shower.

After we had dried off and dressed, she asked me to strip her bed and throw her sheets in the wash.

I put our book away and took out another, a best seller. After she put a nightgown on and got back in bed, I proceeded to read to her.

Our father and step-mother got home a couple hours later. I was in the living room, my sister asleep in her bed. They checked in on her and told me I had done a good job.

I thought so too.

The end… for now.

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