Ticks

(This story is an entry in the Summer Lovin Contest. It was inspired by real life experiences, so if it doesn't turn out the way you expected, don't blame me. Thanks for stopping by.)

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My sister is perfect. A little angel. She's been that way ever since she was twelve. Church choir, Bible study, honor roll, it's as if she was blessed by the Lord Himself. Sure, we squabbled some when we were growing up, but don't all siblings do that? The important thing about Sis is her great ass, which is sort of a cross between a heart-shaped valentine and a puffy white marshmallow.

Unfortunately, because of her sexually repressed state, nobody's ever actually seen her great ass, which is a real shame. Where does the Lord say "Thou shalt not show thine ass"? Is that in the Bible? I don't think so. She has nice tits too, sort of like those foil-wrapped candy-kisses, but, again, she keeps them hidden away underneath her extra large T-shirts and her baggy sweaters.

Should I feel guilty about wanting to see my sister's candy-kisses tits and marshmallow ass? I look at it this way; I'm a man, she's a woman. Why fight it? Males need to mate. Females need mates to enable reproduction. You can try to make it more complicated, but that's all there is to it. Not that I'm going to mate with my sister, but why let such a perfect young body go to waste?.

I was hoping to see my sister's tits and ass during our summer camping trip this year. Now that I'm in college, it's the only time the family actually gets together. I brought swim trunks, I brought spf 50 to rub all over my sister's tits and ass, but did we go swimming? Of course not. Sis and I went on a freakin' hike instead. Okay, I did get a teensy weensy little peek of my sister's cleavage all beaded with sweat when she undid a button on her polo shirt out on the trail, but her tits and ass remained conspicuously absent. Lucky for me, that was about to change.

When we got back from our hike I was pleased to discover that our campsite was deserted. Our folks had gone into town to do some last minute shopping, and the old fart couple at the campsite next door had left, thank God. I suggested to Sis that perhaps we should take advantage of the deserted bathing facility before the hoards of screaming kids and frazzled parents descended upon our campground at the end of the day and turned the place into a freakin' zoo.

"Hey Sis," I asked, "you got an extra towel in your bag?" We were both in our little tent, the same one we'd been sharing since we were kids. I guess it never occurred to our folks that an eighteen year-old born again Christian girl and her sweetheart of a brother could get into any mischief sleeping in the same tent. My folks are almost as naïve as my sister.

"Bobby!" my sister frowned, "for someone working on a college degree, you seem to lack the most basic of life skills. The idea is to pack an extra towel so that you won't have to borrow one from your sister." She was bent over, rummaging through her duffel bag, her polo shirt riding up, her jeans riding down far enough to expose the waist band of her white granny panties. I smiled to myself. I'd much rather put in the extra work required to claim a pair of granny panties off some young virgin than peel the soiled thong off a drunk tramp-stamp skank.

"Sorry Sis. I'll make it up to you."

"I've heard that before," she snapped, flinging a pink towel over her shoulder at me. That was so typical of Sis; disapproving, disgusted, always ready to dismiss me as nothing but an inconsequential annoyance. No problem. I was used to it. In fact, I thought it was kind of cute, seeing such a babe getting all riled up over a slacker like me. Perhaps that was what got me so turned on every time I was around her. If she was a holy terror when she was mad, surely she'd be a holy terror when she was in the sack.

We marched down to the showers together, she pretending she was still annoyed with me for being such a flake, me trying to catch a whiff of her ripe body odor. Call me a pervert, but there's nothing like the smell of a sweaty woman to get my blood pumping.

When we reached the bathing facility, I couldn't help but fantasize about her stripping naked in the shower, her white untanned body so vulnerable looking in the dim light. I imagined how she'd squirm and giggle if I was rubbing soap all over her, tickling her nipples and teasing her cunt. Would she piss herself when my finger found her slit? Would she swoon when we kissed, her soapy chest pressed against mine?

"Wait for me?" she asked as she stepped into the girl's shower room. This was the standard routine: Sis taking a twenty minute shower, me getting done in under ten and then hanging around to walk her back to the campsite, but I didn't mind. I also like the smell of a woman right after a shower, so it's a win-win for me.

My shower finished, standing around waiting for my darling little sister to finish whatever little sisters do during a twenty minute shower, I noticed a flier on the bulletin board.

Tick Alert! The Western Black Legged Tick (Ixodes Pacificus) may carry Lyme Disease and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. To avoid ticks, stay in the center of trails and avoid contact with overhanging grass and brush. Daily full-body tick checks of all family members and pets are your first and most important prevention against Lyme and other tick-borne diseases.

The flier went into more detail about what sort of clothing to wear to ward off the evil ticks, and how to remove them, but the full-body check was what caught my eye. I made a mental note to show the flier to Sis, hoping I could assist her in the full-body check. Finally, her precious tits and ass would get the attention they deserved. But would she fall for it? Naive as she was, I was pretty certain that my plan was foolproof. Ten minutes later, when she emerged from the shower in her white terry cloth robe, her tits jiggling like a pair of frisky ferrets under the fluffy cloth, I lost my nerve. All I could do was stand there speechless, trying not to stare at the commotion going on under her robe.

"Much better," she sighed, fluffing her hair with her towel. I had to let out a quiet sigh. Knowing she was naked underneath her robe was torture. Sure, it was torture at home too, but this was different. Out here in the woods, anything could happen. A tree could fall, the branches accidentally stripping the robe from her naked body. A gust of wind could whip her robe open, turning it into a cape billowing majestically behind her, her tits jutting out like the maiden masthead of a pirate ship. Just as I was fantasizing about that very thing, a gust of wind did whip up, but all it did was blow a plastic garbage bag past us and up into the trees.

As we strolled back to the campsite, I watched out of the corner of my eye as the bottom flap of her robe kept blowing open, revealing a slender white thigh. Sis seemed unconcerned. Was she finally loosening up? Was she finally accepting her body for what it was - a glorious work of art destined to enrich the world (or at least her big brother's world) with its curvaceous and jiggly beauty? By the time we reached our tent, I was tied up in knots, my desire to gain carnal knowledge of my sister overriding any last vestige of common sense I might have possessed prior to our little shower adventure.

"You first, or me?" she asked, standing in front of our tent. This was the standard routine: one of us would change clothes inside the tent while the other one waited outside - in my case, listening for that telltale rustle of fabric as her granny panties slipped up her long legs.

"Actually," I said, mustering every ounce of resolve that existed in my perverted slacker brain, "I should probably check you for ticks." I held my breath, waiting for her response.

"Ticks" she blurted in her disgusted monotone. "What ticks?" She looked down at her robe-ensconced body.

"Ixodes Pacificus. Didn't you see flier on the bulletin board down at the bathrooms?"

"No," she sighed, raising her foot and peering at her heel.

"They're bad news Sis; Lyme disease, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever."

She stood there thinking for a moment, inspected her other foot for the evil little suckers. Looking back at me skeptically, she said: "Really Bobby, if there was a tick biting me, don't you think I'd feel it?"

"They inject a neurotoxin when they bite you, and you don't feel it until later."

"Really?" she said, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Really, Sis. I mean, normally, you wouldn't have to worry about being exposed to ticks, but since you just had to go traipsing off the trail and into the brush to find a place to tinkle, it's much more likely that you picked one up. They sit on the ends of blades of grass and the leaves of bushes, waiting for you to brush past. That's when they hop on, climb up inside your clothes, and impale you with their anesthetizing stinger.

"Son of a biscuit!" she mumbled. staring at her pretty feet. She turned to look at me, her robe draping open a bit in the front, making it hard for me to concentrate on what I was saying.

"I suppose you could wait for Mom to get back so she could check you for ticks, but the flier said that it's imperative to do a full-body check immediately, before they get a chance to burrow under your skin.

"Gross," she moaned, scuffing the brown earth with the toe of her flip flop.

"So?" I asked, anxious to get started.

"So what?"

"So, do you want me to check you for ticks, or do you want to wait and take a chance on contracting Lyme Disease?"

"Alright," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "You win." She ducked into the tent and I followed, feeling like I'd just hit the jackpot at the quarter slots. The progressive jackpot.

"We'll start with the back side," I said, amazed that she was falling for my evil plan, "so just turn around and undo your robe."

I watched in awe as the robe slithered down her back, stopping just above the crack of her peachy marshmallow ass. I could see the sides of her full round boobs as I slithered my fingertips up and down her spine. "So far so good," I said, trying to disguise the excitement in my voice as I lifted up the hair on her neck. I saw the little round scar from where I shot her with my BB gun all those years ago. A pang of guilt shuddered through my body, making my growing hard-on tingle with desire. Fighting back the urge to kiss her neck and nibble on her ear, I said: "Um, Sis, you're going to have to drop your robe now."

She let it flutter to the ground, and suddenly I was staring at her round, white ass, like a pair of volleyballs straddling a dark, hairy canyon. How many nights had I dreamed about this moment, listening to the thump of her boombox in the next room while I fondled my aching dick? How many mornings had I awoken with a giant hard-on, wishing my sister could come in and sit down on the bed with me, her hand slithering under the covers to jack me off? I was so incredibly ready for this moment, it was all I could do to control myself.

I let my fingers slide down her firm cheeks, noticing her tensing up as I touched her. Her ass was so beautiful, I wanted to press my cheek up against it. I wanted to lick it. I wanted to whip out my dick and cum on it. Instead, I got down on one knee and slid my fingers up inside her thighs.

"Tickles!" she squealed, hopping from one foot to the other, sort of like a girl will do when her brother tells her there's a spider crawling up her leg. But there was no spider crawling up my sister's leg, just my trembling fingers, dying to probe the smooth hairy slit peeking out at me from between her legs. "Okay Sis," I said, getting back to my feet, "time for the front side."

I watched as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and then slowly turned to face me. For an instant, I felt guilty. Who was I to trick her into exposing herself to me? On the other hand, would she really be exposing herself to me if she didn't want to? It was a vexing question, made all the more mysterious by her calm, almost bored, demeanor. I gazed at her lovingly, her ample tits all smooshed up behind her forearms, and the guilt disappeared, replaced with burning animal lust.

"Chin up," I said, trying to deflect her attention from my ogling. I peeked under her ears. I ran my fingers slowly down her collarbones towards her hidden boobs. "Arm up," I commanded. "Those ticks like dark warm places."

"Of course," she sighed, complying with my request. As she lifted her arm, her right tit oozed out, but I pretended not to notice her stiff pink nipple, and the luscious heft of her boob, like a pointed grapefruit.

"Other arm," I said, curious if her left tit matched her right. It did. She stood there stoically while I inspected the smattering of freckles dotting her cleavage. A little brown mark sitting on the edge of her left breast caught my eye. Was that another BB gun scar? In that instant I wanted to apologize for all the bad things I'd done to her over the years, but then it occurred to me that what I was doing now was also a bad thing, so I let it go. In spite of my guilt, I couldn't help but let out a little sigh, gazing lovingly at my sister's perfect candy-kisses tits.

"You okay Bobby?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Fine Sis," I stammered, startled by my sister's nonchalant manner. "I'm just worried about the ticks." Actually, I was more worried about cumming in my shorts, but there was no need to tell her that. I got down on my knees, my hands trailing down her sides and onto her hips. Staring at her fluffy bush, I inhaled deeply, searching for that hidden fragrance that had been haunting the hallways of our house these last few years. There were times when I could detect whether or not Sis was home simply by the existence of that wonderful odor. Crouched between her legs now, her perfect pink pussy like a budding flower just inches from my face, I detected nothing but Dove soap, but I was not disappointed.

"This is a favorite place for them to hide," I said, gently combing my fingers through her chestnut curls.

"Tickles!" she squealed, scrunching her legs together.

"Sorry Sis," I said, applying a firmer touch as my fingers approached the hood over her clit.

"Do you see anything?" she asked quietly, staring down at me.

"Actually..." I said, lost for words.

"Actually what?" she whined, her legs open again, her smooth pink labia exposed.

"Actually, I think you'd better lay down and pull your legs up, you know, like you do for an OBGYN exam?"

"Really?" she asked, as if this specific request was a little over the top.

"Look Sis," I said, "it's your choice. They say Lyme disease is a very painful way to die." I inched my nose closer to her slit, finally catching the slightest whiff of that earthy Butterscotch odor that used to greet me every day when I came home from school.

"Whatever you say, Bobby. I trust you."

I winced when she said that. Trust me? Was she serious? After the BB gun incident, and all the other slimeball things I'd done to her over the years? Apparently she was, because a moment later she collapsed onto the sleeping bag, eased onto her back and pulling her legs up. Staring at her pussy now, all exposed in the dim light of the tent, I hesitated. Should I actually go through with it? Would God smite me dead if I did? In that instant, I decided that even if He did, it would be worth it.

I climbed down onto my stomach between her legs, staring longingly at the slimy pink prize winking at me. "If a tick was going to live anywhere, it'd be here," I said, grabbing her inner thighs firmly. She jumped. Slowly, I slid my fingers up until there were nudging her labia. She gasped. I pulled her slit open. She whimpered. I moved one hand up above her mound and lifted the cover over her clit. She twitched.

"Sis?"

"What?" she gasped, helplessly.

"I'm afraid I found one," I said, hoping that she couldn't tell when I was lying. But what were the chances of that? After all these years, she knew me better than anyone.

"Oh no," she moaned, "what do we do?"

Letting out a sigh of relief, I recited the little speech I had been working on for the last 20 minutes. "Don't worry Sis. It's easy. We smother him. It forces him to let go and try to come up for air. That's when I grab him."

"How are you going to smother him?"

"With my tongue," I said, trying to hide my glee, "but you're going to have to help."

"How can I help?"

"When you feel my tongue touching you, start flexing, you know, like you do when you finish peeing? The action of you flexing your muscles will make it harder for him to hold on. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she said solemnly, "I can do that."

"Okay Sis. Here goes."

I laid my tongue on her precious little red button, barely touching it. She twitched. Big time. Good thing I was expecting it. Otherwise I could have broken my nose on her pubic bone when her hips jerked up into the air. After she calmed down, I let the fat part of my tongue settle gently on her clit, with the tip slithering down into the top of her slit. As she started flexing, her snatch started alternating between sucking on the tip of my tongue and spitting it back out again. I was impressed.

Feeling her rhythm building, I couldn't help but wonder: What kind of jerk would trick his little sister into cumming on his face? Sis was always so trusting, so conscientious. Was I ruining her? Was I breaking the sacred trust between siblings? If I was, it was too late to stop now.

"Bobby!" she warbled, "it feels funny down there!"

"It's supposed to feel funny, Sis. The tick is releasing toxins, and your body is reacting to those toxins. If we do this right, you'll feel a sort of explosion down there. That's what's going to make him let go.

"Will it hurt?" she moaned, her hips starting to buck gently with each contraction.

"It won't hurt, but it could feel really intense, so just go with it Sis."

"Kay," she sighed, her breath coming in short little gasps. The butterscotch smell was getting stronger now, tinged with another smell. Ranch dressing? I worked on her for another minute or two, slow and steady, just how a woman likes it, or at least the ones I've been with.

"Hurry Bobby," she gasped frantically, "I can feel the explosion coming."

I pulled back a bit, anticipating the bucking pubic bone. Good thing I did, because a few seconds later she let loose, her body shuddering like a dam breaking, releasing years of pent up sexual repression.

"Bobbeeee!" she whimpered, her voice small and delicate, just like her trim little labia.

"Hold on, Sis," I shouted, like a rescuer throwing a lifeline to a drowning woman (with no clothes on) "I think I've got the tick." I gave her pussy lips a little pinch, as if I was picking the nefarious insect off her snatch, and her hips flew up into the air. Instantly, her hand was on the top of my head, shoving my face off her, only to tug on my hair a few seconds later, jamming my face back up against her slobbery cunt. If I didn't know better...

"Oh my God," she moaned, her tits jiggling back and forth on her chest. I kept working on her, feeling so connected to her, it was as if we were the same person. How could something so wonderful be considered so taboo? Obviously, we were a perfect match for each other, and I had no reason to doubt the advisability of engaging in our forbidden act. In a fit of passion, I buried my tongue in her pussy, which elicited a frightened whimper from my twitching partner. As her hips kept grinding, and her tummy kept fluttering, I began to wonder if her orgasm would ever end.

Finally, she settled down, shoving my face away and shutting her legs tight. Rolling over on her side in the fetal position, all I could do was sit there and stare at her pink asshole, so dainty and cute. I wiped my face on the corner of my shirt and sat up, shrugging off the pangs of guilt that still lingered. She looked so innocent, so helpless, so vulnerable, so slick and drippy, I had a sudden urge to apologize for stealing her precious innocence.