Falling for Jennifer


She didn't crouch down, either: she bent from the waist and her legs were apart a little so that her perfect ass was projected backwards, the cheeks opening slightly to reveal everything between them only a foot or two from my startled gaze. I saw the crinkled portal of her anus like a tiny closed eye winking at me, and just below it her cunt, moist from the shower and other juices. Her fingers closed over the scrap of material and she held her pose for a moment before she straightened and turned back to me.

"Remember that in your bed tonight, David," she said sweetly, "and weep that you'll never get to taste it." She opened the door and with a final flounce of her perfect ass she was gone, and I heard the sound of her laughter as she walked down the corridor.

When I turned back the covers to climb into bed that night I found her panties under the sheet with a little note in her neat, sloping handwriting. It said: 'Wet panties, wet dreams. Dry your tears on these.' They weren't as good as the real thing, but as a consolation present I could have done a lot worse.


Over the next few weeks the game that started so innocently became more intense. On the surface it was still innocuous - nothing more than sexual teasing, really: a contest to see if we could make the other uncomfortable without pushing them too far. Unspoken rules appeared: not to touch, primarily. I would have broken that rule in an instant, but Jen soon made it clear that any physical activity was off the list and after a couple of half-hearted attempts I complied. There was none of the play when Mum was around either, even if she was in another part of the house. This meant that for quite long periods of time we were models of behaviour towards each other - and then suddenly the coast would be clear and I might be treated to another flash of her pudenda; or another pair of worn panties would appear under my pillow with a little note dripping with innuendo.

For me, it became more than a game. The initial delight in seeing her naked soon wore off and I wanted more. I longed to be able to touch her, to feel the satin lustre of her skin trembling under my fingertips, to press my mouth against the soft curves of her breasts and to taste her - and then, when I had played my game, to feel the tight sucking wetness of her flesh as I penetrated her. Sister or not, I wanted to fuck her.

Even though I couldn't touch her intimately I tried to be with her whenever I could, even if it was only to be in the same room. I made sure there was casual contact as often as possible: my hand brushing against her hair as I walked past, my knee pressing against hers under the table. And when I couldn't touch her I watched instead, seeing things that I had never noticed before - like way she dressed: the colours and fabrics she liked, and the way she did her hair. I observed how she titled her head a little when she was concentrating, and how she caught her bottom lip between her little white teeth when she was lost in thought. I was captivated by her smile and consumed by the tumbling notes of her laughter, and each new discovery drew me deeper into her magic, until I was utterly transfixed. What had started as lust had grown to so much more.

My world narrowed - driven by a need to be with her, to make her notice, to be accepted by her: but the more I tried the more she kept her distance, even avoiding eye contact for the most part. Our little game stopped, each of us aware that it was so much more than what it had been but neither knowing how to deal with it. We became like two strangers living together, each struggling to achieve what we wanted - for me, the desire to become part of her life; for her...well, I wasn't sure.

It wasn't that she rejected me. Somehow she trod the fine line of still engaging me but at the same time drawing back, gradually revoking the licenses of the past few weeks. She knew how I felt about her, I think, and she responded with a brittle cheerfulness that denied any notion of avoidance; but sometimes when she thought I wasn't looking she would glance across at me, her expression serious, and I could sense the uncertainty and confusion and worry in her mind.

One day I was sitting on my bed, holding my head in my hands. I had just left Jen in the lounge and I ached for her. There was a tap on the door and she pushed her head in.

"Are you alright, David?" her voice was soft with concern.

I stared at her. How could she not feel the same as me? "Not really."

"Is it something I can help with?"

I laughed, a bitter sound without humour. "Oh yes. But you won't."

She regarded me for a few seconds and then she turned away without responding and closed the door softly behind her.


"We need to talk, David." It was Saturday and we were at the breakfast table. Mum had just gone into the kitchen and Jen was leaning forward and whispering so that she wouldn't hear.

I nodded, my eyes on her face. She was wearing a crisp white blouse and her hair was tied back loosely so that it hung around the pale column of her neck in a curtain of iridescent gold. Her eyes were a soft misty grey: the colour of a dove's wing, and her lips were soft and pink. God, she looked good. How was it that I hadn't noticed these things before?

I sat awkwardly while Mum fussed around, until Jen finally managed to shoo her out to the shops. She came back into the kitchen without saying anything and she moved to the sink and started washing up, rattling them as if angry. The house was quiet and we didn't speak, and the tension grew until it was almost palpable. I stared at the top of the table, wondering what she was going to say if she ever got around to it.

"We can't go on like this, you know," she said suddenly, turning towards me.

"Like what, Jen?"

Her lips trembled a little. "Like - well, like we weren't brother and sister."

"I don't know what you mean. I haven't touched you - I haven't -"

"But you think it, David! I've seen you looking at me...I see what's in your eyes as plain as day." She brushed a strand of errant hair back from her forehead, leaving a smear of soapy water on her skin. "It's like living with a different person...there's this - thing, between us, you know...like an unspoken -" she struggled to find the words, and after a moment she shook her head. "I can't describe it. It's a barrier between us, you know? I just feel that you're on the edge, waiting all the time for a chance that will never happen. I don't want that, David. I want to go back to how we were."

I remained silent. How could she ever think that things would ever be the same again?

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

I smiled at her, my heart thumping. "What do you want me to say?"

"That it's not true! That I'm imaging it all, and everything between us is the same. Tell me that you don't care, David. Tell me -"

"But it is true, Jen. Everything you said - except for the bit about never happening."

She stopped in mid sentence, her mouth open. I stood up and moved towards her, watching her expression, seeing the wind go out of her. I lifted my hand and touched her cheek with the tip of one finger. "It is true," I repeated. "I do want you."

She made a sound of dismissal. "But I'm your sister."

"It doesn't matter. I still want you. Ever since you came into my room I can't stop thinking about you -"

"That was pay back for the bathroom thing," she interrupted. "Don't you remember? It was a joke."

"Not for me." I shook my head. "Since then I've opened my eyes and seen you for the first time, I think - the way you look and the way you dress." I cupped her face with my hand, my fingertips brushing the soft skin behind her ear. "And the things you do...the little habits and idiosyncrasies. You are perfect, Jen...of course I want you."

She made no effort to pull away. Her eyes were swimming pools of grey emotion, struggling to deal with what I had just said and finding no answer. I could feel the soft skin of her cheek rubbing against my hand and the strands of her hair brushing against the back of my fingers. "We can't, David," she said at last.

"Why not?"

"Because once we start we couldn't stop. It would consume us." She was staring at me, her voice almost pleading. "And it would hurt those who are closest to us."

"So you've thought about it, then."

She didn't reply, but the look in her eyes told me that she had. I suddenly realised that it wasn't me she was worried about. She wanted to play, but was worried about the consequences. My heart lurched a little - what had seemed to be impossible was suddenly attainable.

"You want it too," I said softly. "I can see it. You feel it too."

She gazed at me without replying and I saw her eyes change, the shadows of uncertainty replaced by something else - not longing or desire, exactly, but need. I watched her lips open slightly, soft and pink with the gleam of her little white teeth behind them and I could see a pulse at the base of her throat beating softly as she waited. It was as if she had suddenly given up and surrendered the initiative, and in that instant she looked young and vulnerable and incredibly beautiful.

I curled my fingers around her neck and drew her slowly towards me. For a moment she hesitated, pulling back against my hand, but then she relaxed and she turned her head a little so that her lips fitted over mine, and we kissed.

Her lips were incredibly soft, just as I had imagined they would be, and her tongue moved languorously inside my mouth. My senses were suddenly in overdrive, every neuron in my body aware of her and what she was doing: the pressure of her arms around me, the sweetness of her breath and the taste of her mouth. Her fingers were in my hair, the same ones that had traced a path along the length of my cock and had touched the warm ooze of my pre-cum. The length of her body was pressed against me and I rested my hands on her hips, feeling their warmth through the material of her dress, just as if there was nothing between us. My fingers were on the small of her back and I slid them down to her ass, cupping her buttocks, pulling her closer so that she was crushed against me. My cock was like a steel girder, pressing hard against her belly and I knew she could feel it. I heard her groan into my mouth and then she pulled her face away a little to talk.

"Jesus, David....don't. We shouldn't -" and then her lips were on mine again, pressing hard, her tongue into my mouth.

I remembered how her ass had looked when she bent over - the smooth ivory of her skin and the delicious divide between her buttocks and her anus nestling between then, so fresh and pink - and the moist slit of her vagina beyond. I curled my fingers around her cheeks, pressing the material in between them, my fingertips reaching in, reaching in. She was pressing her body against me and rubbing herself against the logjam in my pants, and her nipples drilled into my chest like heated pebbles.

Her dress had ridden up now and my fingers were touching her panties, pressing into her crack. She lifted one leg and hooked it over my hip and I could feel the heat and wetness there, the gusset slick under my touch, and my heart was pounding. I wanted this to go on forever, to keep touching her. She pressed her face into my shoulder, her hands gripping me tightly, and we clutched at each other in desperation in the quietness of the house, my fingers dipping under the strip of material - touching her there for the first time, slippery with her juices. Her sex was like a flower under my fingers, the labia folded back and the centre wet and open like ripe fruit. I pressed my fingers in, sliding into her body.

"Oh God..." her voice muffled, "Oh, yes."

She was standing on tiptoe now, her other leg curled around me and my fingers were inside her, feeling the juices bubbling at her cunt. So tight. I began to undo my belt with my free hand, fumbling with the clasp.

She shook her head, her voice muffled in my shirt. "No, David, no. Mum will be back soon. Not that, please. Just....do what you're doing." A tremor went through her body. "Ah! Just there, move your fingers...yes, like that, just like that."

She pressed into my shoulder again and the cascade of her hair was against my face, the strands glossy and perfumed. Her hands were clutching me, fluttering like little birds with the intensity of her pleasure, and an occasional groan escaped from her lips. My fingers eased in and out, her juices leaking from her slit and dripping over my hand and she was jerking a little and writhing as I penetrated her. So hot, so hot. She rubbed herself against me, my fingers jammed in her cunt and her mound pressed against my thigh, rubbing, frantic. So hot.

Her face tilting up now, eyes liquid. "I'm going to cum," she whispered, "Yes, David....ah, just there. Oooo, yes." Her hips pressed hard against me and my fingers were dipping, rubbing, pushing in and out. Exquisite, the heat and the smell of her body, quivering as she spiraled up, her head arching back, lips open.

I watched as she came for me: her eyes tightly shut and her face contorted as she rode the long breakers of pleasure. Her pussy was fluttering under my fingers in tight little contractions, creaming me, her labia pressed against my knuckles; her hands clasping, gripping me, clutching me tightly as she writhed in her ecstasy. She was whimpering and I heard my own voice, urging her on, telling her I loved her, telling her she was mine. My heart hammered in my chest and my cock was fit to burst inside my pants. It was so close to her clasping, oozing cunt. I wanted to be inside her.

For a long time we clutched each other frantically, her body twitching with the intensity of her cum and then the waves gradually subsided and she came back from the edge, spiraling down slowly. I eased my fingers out of her pussy, rubbing them lightly over her labia. So horny, so wet. I want to fuck her now, to bend her over and take her.

She turned her face toward me, her eyes shining, her teeth white and even as she smiled up at me and her voice was filled with awe. "Wow! How the hell did that happen?" I bent forward and kissed her open mouth, my tongue inside her. Her taste had changed, somehow, as if she had sex on her lips. She responded, her body still hot against mine.

And suddenly we heard the sound of keys in the front door and the squeak of the hinges as it opened. My mother's voice calling from the hallway as if she somehow knew she should make a sound to give us warning. "Yooo-hoo, I'm back!"

We leapt apart and I stumbled backwards, seeing Jen smooth her dress down and turn back to the sink with an expression of panic on her face. I grabbed the cornflake box and pretended to read it, my heart hammering and my cock still thick in my pants as she came in, her eyes wide with surprise.

"You still having breakfast, David? What a slow coach - haven't you done anything yet?"

She was right...I'd done nothing. A job unfinished and the chance gone.


Lying on her bed that night, breaking the rules because Mum was in her room at the other end of the house. Silent kisses, sweeter than honey. Whispers in the night.

"This is crazy, David. We can't do it, you know that don't you?"

I nodded, my mouth against the skin of her neck, fragrant with her scent.

"It's not that I don't want to," she continued. "We just can't."

"Mmmm". My most non-committal grunt. There was no way I was going to agree with what she was saying. My fingers were on her nightie, silky smooth, grasping the warm curve of her breast. I rolled a nipple in my fingers and it swelled like a ripe gooseberry.

"Are you listening to me?" She seized a handful of my hair and levered me up so she could look at me. Her eyes flashed in the dim light. "You're my brother. We can't...do it, d'you hear?"

I nodded again. She was exquisite, perfect...and nearly mine.

"Promise me," she persisted. Her voice was almost pleading. "Promise me you won't try."

"Alright." I hoped I sounded convincing.

She looked at me for a moment longer, but I must have satisfied her because she pulled me down to her face and her lips opened under mine. So soft...so perfect. I wanted this to last for ever. God, I needed her. The window drapes were back and she was lying on top of the bedclothes, her body bathed in moonlight: hills of silver and valleys of shadow. All that was between us was the scrap of her nightie and my boxers. I squeezed her breast again, the nipple drilling into my palm and she groaned into my mouth.

"Mmmmm. Oh, yes. Touch me more."

I released her breast and slid my hand over the silky material ... across the smooth skin of her belly and into the crease where it met one thigh, then down to their juncture. I was expecting panties but there were none: only her naked flesh. My fingers brushed over her labia and she jerked a little at my touch, groaning in her throat as they teased her vulva, dipping into her again.

Her mouth was pressed against my ear, whispering. "God, I'm so wet for you. You make me wet. Taste it."

I lifted my fingers from her pussy and pressed them between us, feeling her tongue brushing against mine as she licked with me. Her little pink tongue darting between my fingers, scooping the juice into her mouth, licking them clean. The taste of her cunt on my lips. Her breath against my cheek, panting with desire, so hot...my sister, so hot. How had it come to this? I wanted the night to go on forever.

She was mumbling between the kisses, her voice scratchy with lust. "Jesus, David...ah, yes! Touch me there, inside. Oooh, just there." Her body was completely open to me, trembling as my fingers dipped into her and my cock was like an iron bar against her thigh, harder than any time in my life. She moved her hand down to grip the shaft, slipping under the elastic of my shorts and encircling it, her fingers cool against the hot flesh and she groaned again, her words punctuated with hot little kisses on my mouth.

"We can't David...no, this is crazy....we can't do...it."

My mouth moving down to her neck, into the hollow there, the skin soft and fragrant against my lips, then down, across the rumpled material of her nightie, feeling the swell of her nipple pressing through the thin silk...then down further until the skin of her abdomen touched my lips. I was kneeling over her with my fingers still in her pussy, my tongue leaving a little silver trail of saliva on the smooth brown skin of her belly, down towards her liquid core. She released my cock and I saw her licking her fingers again, her lips shiny with my pre-cum, her little pink tongue lapping, lapping and her eyes luminescent in the moonlight. My little pussycat, purring as she licks the cream.

And then I was there, the tip of my tongue at her opening to dip into her essence. She groaned again - a sort of growl as I nuzzled her lips, and she opened her thighs to expose herself fully, one leg either side of my face whilst I knelt at the altar of her sex.

I was kneeling at my sister's cunt, lapping at her honeypot. The weeks of heartache and the long, lonely nights of dreaming had gone, and I was here in her room, eating her pussy. She was writhing under me and gasping, her hands gripping my head and stroke of my tongue drew a groan from her throat...purring, purring. Long, slow strokes with the flat of my tongue from her perineum to her clitoris, flattening the rubbery lips of her vulva and scooping the slippery juices into my greedy mouth.

My sister's nectar on my lips. Curling the tip of my tongue to dip into her to suck her essence into my mouth, my hands on her thighs to hold her against my face...my cheeks and lips soaking wet with her cream. She was amazing, perfect, and I if I played the game right she would be mine for the night.

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