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by Charles E. Magness
Cover Artwork by Moira Nelligar
© 2014 Boruma Publishing, LLC
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I was a college sophomore, and Mindy, my main squeeze, was a freshman at our small liberal arts college that fall of 1987. On the evening of the first Friday in November, a vicious dog—known across the college campus as "The Doberman"—had attacked us and bitten Mindy badly. She'd needed surgery to repair torn muscle tissue, but her injuries were now improving a little with each passing day.
I'd fallen and knocked myself out when I'd tried to protect my lover, and then she'd wound up having to protect me—not to mention having to bear the brunt of The Doberman's attack. So we'd both found ourselves in the emergency room—after one of the cops who'd happened to be in the neighborhood had shot and killed the dog. We'd been lucky that they'd been nearby, and I didn't like to think about what could've happened if they hadn't been there.
No—that's wrong! I hated to think about what would have happened if not for those two cops.
By the following Wednesday, she'd been able to give up one of the crutches she'd had to use in order to get around. Traveling on one crutch is a lot easier than traveling on two, so from then on she was no longer restricted to the immediate environs of our campus. Thus, we easily fell back into our routine of studying our school work at my apartment when my apartment mate, George, was around—and taking every opportunity to study the other's body there when he wasn't.
The next day, Mindy mentioned to Stephanie Young, who always sat next to her in our calculus class, that we would not be leaving town for Thanksgiving Break—the break being too short for the distance we would have to travel. Upon hearing that, Stephanie had immediately invited the two of us to their off-campus house for a Thanksgiving dinner with her and her twin brother Steve, whom Mindy and I didn't know.
We'd accepted gratefully—we'd been feeling a bit sorry for ourselves at the idea of spending the holiday with just ourselves. Not that either of us was ever sorry about being alone with the other, but that we wanted to share the holiday a little more widely. Stephanie was already planning to cook a turkey, so Mindy offered to make a pie and to help with the other fixings. I promised several bottles of suitable wine—say, a pinot grigio—and, that very evening, I placed an order with Frank—one of the seniors who lived downstairs in my house and was old enough to buy alcohol. (And, thinking ahead to the rest of the break, I ordered several more bottles of wine and a case of beer.)
Stephanie and her twin brother shared an old one-story house about three blocks from ours. They, too, were staying in town for the break. Mindy, who was very good at the necessary small talk, had long since teased their background out of Steph.
Their circumstances were a bit different from ours. They were born in March of 1968, just two months after I was born. Their parents had died in a boating accident in the summer of 1986, when the twins were 18 and just before they and I had begun our freshman year at the college.
They had no other siblings, and they weren't close to their remaining family. Those other family members, uncles, aunts, and younger cousins, were scattered along the West Coast—even farther from the college than our home in Fort Collins, Colorado. Steph, Mindy, and I were all pleased at the prospect of having friends to share the holiday meal with; Steph assured us that Steve would be, too.
Mindy's period arrived on time on the fifteenth, and lasted through the eighteenth. We got pretty horny again while we waited it out, but we were happy, nevertheless, when it came. She was still on the Pill, of course, but we knew that no birth control method is perfect. Pregnancy wasn't on our agenda, and it was good to have her state of non-pregnancy confirmed.
I had a visit from Li'l Abner and Sgt. Andy—the cops who had rescued us from The Doberman—just after eleven that Tuesday while I was at home and Mindy was in her English Comp class. Thus, I finally got to thank Abner for saving Mindy's life, but that wasn't the reason for their visit. They wanted to take a statement from me as part of a criminal proceeding against one Riley Carter for harboring a vicious animal, and, particularly, for criminal negligence.
The Doberman's bad disposition was well known throughout the town, and both Abner and Andy had witnessed the attack, so my statement wasn't completely necessary to support the harboring charge. But I was the only person who'd seen that the dog's gate hadn't been latched, and my testimony might make or break the negligence case. They would be looking for Mindy, too, to get a statement from her.
Our encounter with The Doberman turned out to be the second time that animal had attacked someone. Riley Carter, its owner, had been convicted of a misdemeanor and fined heavily for the first incident. This second offense meant a felony charge, one that, according to Sgt. Andy, ordinarily carried a prison sentence of up to four years. But Riley had done time on two previous felony convictions, and as a three-time loser could get up to eight years. If the negligence case stood up, it could result in even more time. Carter had sworn, they said, that he wasn't going back to prison.
Riley had managed to elude arrest until a few days earlier, when he'd been caught and jailed. He'd made bail earlier the morning that Abner and Andy talked to me, and so was out of jail. The two of them thought it would be a good idea for me and Mindy to try to keep our distance from Carter's house—known on the campus as "The Dog House"—for a while.
That night, The Dog House burned to the ground.
According to the newspaper, a neighbor had heard a shot from inside the house. He'd called the police, who found the house on fire when they arrived. The fire department had arrived quickly, but the house was already engulfed in flame. Onlookers reported that the smell of burning flesh hung heavily in the area as the firefighters tried, without success, to extinguish the blaze. They had managed, however, to prevent damage to nearby homes.
A day later, the paper reported that investigators had found two empty gasoline cans and Carter's body, a pistol beside it, in the ashes—and that all appearances indicated that he had committed suicide after setting the house afire.
Riley Carter had avoided going back to prison; he would not now find himself forsworn.
Our own problems seemed pretty mild in comparison with Riley's—and his solution. Both of us had three exams that Friday. That was a drag, but we both thought we'd done reasonably well on all of them. However, we did miss our Friday morning love-making owing to nervous pre-exam preparation during the hour before our first class—while George was out of the house.
Horny as we were that Friday evening, we didn't want to establish a pattern by often using the bottom floor of the library, whose security system I'd figured out how to penetrate, so I let Mindy in on the deepest secret that George and I kept. The two of us had spent many nights the previous year borrowing lock cylinders from doors in each of several different campus buildings. We had taken each of those locks apart and measured its tumblers with a micrometer. Then we had put the locks back together and returned them to the doors from which we'd swiped them—always later the same night we'd borrowed each.
After we'd made measurements on several locks from a single building, it was pretty easy to see the master-key configuration for that building. We'd found that the handle of an aluminum kitchen measuring spoon could be fashioned easily into a blank key and then filed appropriately. So each of us had made a key ring that gave him admission to many places on the campus at times when they were supposed to be locked up tight. We didn't want to steal anything or commit any crimes—we just didn't like being locked out of places.
That evening, before I let Mindy in on the secret, I took her to the empty football stadium. The gates weren't generally locked, so we had no trouble getting into the stands. But it was a cold November night, and—knowing what activity I surely had in mind—she looked at me as though she suspected I was crazy. She wasn't, she said, going to put her bare ass on one of those metal benches out there in the sub-freezing cold—even with our old quilt under her, and no matter what the reward might be.
I led her to the entrance to the press box, pulled out my magic key ring, and let us in. Then we had to put off what we had in mind while I explained to her where that key ring had come from. She looked at the other keys on it, wanting to know what buildings they worked in. When I told her, she got a familiar glint in her eyes. "Maybe," she suggested, "we should see how many different buildings we can do It in before school's out in the spring."
There was a game scheduled for the next day, and the athletic department had turned up the heat in the box, so that important sports reporters wouldn't freeze their asses off. The press box had almost as much floor space as my apartment, and there were some armchairs scattered about—as well as a pretty decent couch against the back wall. We had a very comfortable session on that couch, and we didn't freeze our own asses off, either. We figured that any tracks we left on the fabric of the couch would dry out by game-time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was nearly nine when I woke up on the day before Thanksgiving. I found myself lying on my side, naked, and in my own bed. Mindy's warm, naked little body lay in my arms, her back up against me. She was still asleep, breathing slowly and deeply. My hand cupped her tit, and the cleft of her ass accommodated my morning wood nicely. It throbbed its pleasure, and mine, as awareness returned.
My housemates were gone for the break. Technically, it began today, but Frank had left town on Friday—almost a week early. (Luckily, he'd gotten my beer and wine first.) Earl and George had left at about lunchtime on Tuesday, and so had Mindy's roommate, Carol. Bussey Hall, the freshman women's dormitory where Mindy lived, would be closed for the break. Under the circumstances, we saw no reason why she shouldn't spend her nights where we both thought she belonged—sharing a bed with me.
On account of our house- and roommates, we hadn't been able to spend a night in the same bed for almost three months. Of course, doing so in the women's dorm was out of the question. As far as my housemates were concerned, I knew that, generally speaking, they wouldn't much mind my having a woman in my bed. Ordinarily, they would applaud—probably even congratulate me on getting laid.
But the circumstances weren't ordinary, because Mindy is my little sister, and we couldn't be open about the erotic nature of our love. Neither of us was very happy about needing to keep it a secret that we were deeply in love with each other, but we didn't see what else we could do. We couldn't be openly romantic with each other, because too many people about the campus knew that we were siblings. Our story for public consumption was that, during the break, she was sleeping in the spare bed in my apartment.
But, we were almost the only people on or near the campus, and we were determined to make the most of the five nights we could spend with each other. And I had just rediscovered how much I loved sharing bodies with Mindy before falling asleep with her—and then waking up the next morning to find her in my arms, naked, snuggled up against my own nakedness.
Gently, almost automatically, I began to knead her boob, and I felt her nipple begin to stiffen against my palm. After a minute or so, her breathing altered and she moved a little bit. I continued my action—a little more robustly.
"Mmmmmm." She hummed a little moan of pleasure—still half asleep.
"Mmmmmm." I hummed my own little moan back at her and kept kneading. Her hand found and stroked mine where I held her boob.
"Mmmmmm. Mmmmmm." She gave me two sleepy little moans.
"Mmmmmm. Mmmmmm." I returned them, still a little sleepy myself.
And then, waking up a little more, I reached down and planted a big kiss on the back of her neck. Her wonderful little body shivered against me.
"Ooohh, Charlie!" It came out fuzzily. "That feels so good. But it gives me goose-bumps."
Her butt-cheeks clenched around my boner—which throbbed its approval. That elicited another butt-clench—which caused another throb. And so on for six or eight cycles.
She was mostly awake, now, and so was I.
"I like waking up to find you next to me, naked, with your dick hard and where it is now." She mumbled it, still fuzzy with sleep. "I love you so much."
"I like it, too." I squeezed her as she wiggled back toward me. "And I love you even more."
"I'm going to go to the bathroom," she said. "And then I'm going to come back here and make love to you."
"That's a plan. But I'm going to the bathroom, too. I'll go downstairs; you can use the bathroom up here. Can we snuggle a little more before we do It?"
"Good idea. I like snuggling like this. We'll add that to the plan." She wiggled out of my arms and rolled to the edge of the bed. I watched as she stood up, naked, beside the bed. It was a lovely view. She looked at me and saw how my eyes caressed her body. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. She started toward the bedroom door, limping slightly, favoring her left leg.
"How's your leg this morning?" I asked.
"It still hurts a little when I walk," she replied. "But it's nothing I can't handle. And it keeps getting a little better every day. It should be okay before long."
"I'll be glad when it's completely healed," I said. "Then we can stop thinking about that goddamn dog."
She stepped back, reached over, and stroked my upper arm as I lay there. She was still smiling. "Go, lover. We can talk after, while you hold me." Goose-bumps were appearing in earnest on her skin, now. I'd turned the thermostat down the evening before, and it was chilly in the drafty old house.
"I'd better," I said. "Before I wet the bed."
I got up and followed her out of the bedroom. She turned left toward the bathroom, and I turned right toward the stairs. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have gone downstairs, because that was a different apartment from the upstairs. But there were no locked doors separating the two apartments, and Mindy and I were the only ones in the house. And I knew that Earl and Frank, the men who shared the downstairs apartment, didn't mind if I used their bathroom when they weren't home—or, even, sometimes, when they were home. Our unspoken gentlemen's agreement was simply that we'd announce ourselves and wait for acknowledgement before entering the other apartment when somebody was there.
When I finished, I kicked the thermostat from 60° back up to 72° as I passed it. Turning the heat down at night saved on the gas bill, but there was no good reason to stay cold through the day.
By the time I got back to the bedroom, she was back in bed—enjoying the warmth of the two old quilts we'd slept under. I felt her eyes caressing me as I walked naked back to the bed, and it made me smile at her. She smiled back.
I slid back into my place behind her and took her back into my arms. My cock had known what it would find in my bed and had stiffened again. It reoccupied her butt-cleft, and she wiggled back against me. I throbbed, and she clenched. Again. Again. Still again.
"Are you okay, Charlie? Are you still having those dreams?"
I'd had some nightmares. I'd awakened in tears a couple of times, after dreaming that the Doberman had killed her while I'd lain unconscious, unable to defend her.
"I haven't had one since late last week. How about you?"
She'd had some dreams, too. Her dreams had ended with me dead, the dog having chewed through the collar of my old leather bomber jacket, and then my throat, before she could divert it to herself. She'd awakened screaming one night in her dormitory room, and her roommate and some of the other women on her floor had comforted her.
"My last one was sometime last week. Are you still feeling bad about getting knocked out when you thought I needed you?"
"You did need me, and it's not so much that I feel bad about it," I said, "any more than you feel bad about your leg injuries. But your leg hurts you, and it hurts me that I wasn't there when you needed me to protect you.
"But I went down, and then I needed you. And it makes me feel really good to know that you took care of me."
She rolled over in my arms and scooched up the bed a bit, so that we were face to face. Blue fire crackled in her eyes.
"Charles Edward Magness! How could I ever not take care of you! You're my big brother! And my lover! And I can't live without you! If you think that I shouldn't take care you because men don't need it, or because I'm a girl, or because I'm too little, you are in so much trouble…"
She had my attention. She only used my full name when she was about to give me a thumping, verbal or otherwise. But I wasn't going to backpedal.
I smiled at her. "I can't live without you, either, Melinda Lee Magness. And you are a girl. Not that that makes any difference where love and courage matter. And I'm pretty much in favor of you being a girl—as you might have noticed. But, at least to outward appearances, you are little." She was only five feet tall, against my six feet, so she really was small. And she was sensitive about it. I paused, knowing what was coming.
"I am not—"
I shushed her with a finger across her lips.
"You are on the outside," I said. "But you didn't hear what Sergeant Andy said about you that evening in the emergency room—right after you told us that you aren't little, and they wheeled you away."
"Whatever it was, it had better be good," she allowed. The blue fire in her eyes danced; I didn't have to stretch my imagination to hear it crackle.
"He said that he's been a cop for over thirty years, and he's never seen anything like the way you took on that dog after I went down. And then he said, near as I can remember, 'She might be little on the outside, even if she don't think so, but inside, where it counts, she's every bit as big as Li'l Abner. And she's got a lion's heart.' And, Ms. Magness, you'd better believe that I agree with every word of that."
Li'l Abner was the cop who had killed the dog; he was about 6' 10" tall and made mostly of bone and muscle—he was a true mountain of a man. Sergeant Andy was his partner.
The blue fire became less intense. "Did he really say that? That on the inside I'm as big as Li'l Abner? Nobody's that big!"
"You are," I said. "And he did say that. And that was when I realized that I'd known it all along without knowing that I did. I think it's part of why I love you so much.
"Mindy, I've always thought it was my job to protect you, and I've always welcomed that job and done it with my whole heart. But I never really thought about it. You and The Doberman made me think. Now I know that it's always been your job to take care of me, too, every bit as much as it's been mine to take care of you. I think I've always known that, but, like I said, without knowing that I knew it.
"You're a good, smart, strong, courageous woman—my good, smart, strong, courageous woman, and I'm really glad that I'm in love with you."
She looked at me, the blue fire in her eyes had strengthened again, but now it was the softer, gentler fire of love.
"Charlie, you're good, smart, strong, and courageous, too. More of each than me. And you're my good, smart, strong, courageous man. I couldn't be happier that I'm in love with you."
I squeezed her. "And now, my sweet little sister, turn around so that I can snuggle you properly for a little while."
She was smiling. "I will, 'cause I like it when we make spoons and I can feel your whole body against me. But first…"
And she kissed me. It was a gentle, loving kiss, and we lingered in it a while. When it was over, she did turn around and back up against me. I took her warm little body into my arms and held her close. I cupped her tit again, and I continued to knead it as I'd been doing earlier.
"Mmmmm," she hummed again. "You know what I like, don't you." And she wiggled her ass against my boner.
"And you know what I like," I returned, pumping my hips a little.
My cock wasn't lying along her cleft, as it had been before, because she'd moved upward in the bed when she'd rolled over to talk to me. But my crown had slipped between her ass-cheeks, and I could feel it bumping up against the soft little depression of her rear orifice. I pushed a little harder, and felt her sphincter relax so that my tip just entered her. And right then, I knew that I wanted the rest of my cock in her there.
"Maybe," I said, "I'll put it in here this time." I wiggled my hips back and forth just a bit, for emphasis.
"What a dirty thing to do so early in the day," she said, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "We haven't done that for a long time. I hope you have some lube so we can."
"As a matter of fact…" I said, abandoning her for a moment to roll over, sit up, reach into the drawer of the nightstand beside my bed, and bring out a tube. "…ta-dah!" I held it up as she looked back over her shoulder at me.
"What a well-equipped bedroom you have," she said, grinning at me.
"Well," I replied, "a fellow never can tell what his girlfriends will want to do."
She reached back to swat me, but I intercepted the swat, brought the offending hand to my mouth, and nibbled on it lightly. She started to roll toward me.
"No," I said. "Let's try it while we snuggle."
I released her hand and she rolled back. I opened the lube and slathered some on myself. The stuff was frigid, but I was hot enough that I hardly noticed.
Then I squeezed a good dollop onto my finger. The covers had fallen off of us as I'd sat up, and I had no trouble getting my finger to the right place. She raised her leg a little to help, and I spread the slippery stuff around, penetrating her slightly with my fingertip.
"God, that stuff is cold," she offered, shivering a little.
"I bet we'll warm it up pretty quickly," I pointed out as I lay down again behind her and guided the tip of my cock toward its intended destination. She threw the covers back over us and raised her leg again to give me better access.
She reached between her legs and grasped my shaft. Seeing that she was going to guide me, I let go and wrapped my arms around her. I held her close, and cupped her tit again. I squeezed it gently a couple of times as she stroked my cock a bit. And then she guided me to her rear entrance. I pushed gently, while she held me in place.
She relaxed her sphincter so that my tip entered her—more easily and more deeply than a bit earlier. But, as when we'd done this before, her tight little ring resisted complete penetration.
"You feel so good on the head of my cock," I said. "Are you ready for more?'
She didn't say anything; but I felt pressure as she pushed back against me. I took that for a "Yes," and I pushed, too, gently but firmly. For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then her sphincter gave up the unequal battle, and my entire crown surged into her. I felt her ring of muscle gripping me tightly. We lay there for a moment, enjoying what we had accomplished. But that couldn't last for long.
"Ooohh! Charlie! You feel so big and so good in there. I want more of him!"
We both pushed again, and I slowly slid almost all the way into her. We lay, quietly again, for a while, enjoying the sensations as she adjusted to the intruder's presence. I continued to knead her little boob with my right hand, and I felt her sphincter contracting and releasing in slow rhythm around me in response.
"Oh, damn!" I whispered. "It feels like you're milking me!"
She chuckled. It was that deep throaty chuckle that I'd only heard two or three times—always when she was feeling very turned on. And then she really contracted around me.
"It's only fair. You're milking me with your hand. And that feels really good. It makes you feel even better in me."
"I won't last long if you keep squeezing me like you just did."
She chuckled again; another of those deep throaty ones. She clamped on me again, and my hips responded automatically—thrusting me into her and pulling me back.
"Ooohh! That was nice! I think I have you figured out, now." No chuckle this time—just another clamp of that tight, tight ring.
I squawked, as my hips bucked again and my cock plunged and retreated. And plunged and retreated. And…
My cock knew what it wanted, and there was no stopping it from getting it. Dimly, I realized that her hips were moving, too, conspiring with mine to drive me in and out, in and out, in and out…
"Mmmmm!" she moaned. Pressure welled up inside me and she continued, "Pound your big hot cock into me! Come for me!"
I knew it wouldn't be long. I could tell that my coordination was failing and that, all unintentionally, I was squeezing her tit roughly, probably painfully.
"Come in my ass! Come in your little sister's ass!"
And I did. I shouted in my ecstasy as I rammed myself into her one last time. I felt the first explosion race through the length of my cock and into her, to be followed by another, and another, and another, until, in my rapture, I lost count.
Then I lay there, holding her close, my cock still embedded in her, while I recovered. I kissed the back of her neck to announce my eventual return. When I did that, she reached for me, where I still held her boob. Wordlessly she caressed my hand and then, taking it into hers, she pulled it downward to her pussy.
I got the hint. Gently, I pushed a finger into her cleft and stroked her inner lips. They were slick with her moisture. I stroked them again and moved to her clit. She moaned when I found it, gentle as I was being. And then I began to tickle it, gently. Her hips rocked in response. My cock was still hard, still in her, and the motion drove it in and out of her again.
"That's so good," she moaned. "Do it a little harder with your finger. And with your cock, too."
Her hips' movements got stronger, more insistent, and she whimpered in her need. I had some difficulty keeping my hand in place, but I persisted. I tickled her clit harder and more directly, and I rocked my own hips in response to hers—driving the tight band of her sphincter up and down my shaft again and keeping my cock stiff, even after its earlier exertions.
"Don't stop! Don't stop!" I heard in her whimpers. And then she rammed herself back into me and clutched my hand to her pussy as she exploded in my arms. She moaned and quivered in her spasms as her climax transported her to some other world. I had just been in my own version of that other world, and I shared her journey through her rhythmic contractions on my cock.
Gradually she subsided, and at length she lay limp in my arms. She gently pulled my hand away from her clit; as always after she'd come, it was too sensitive to bear my slightest touch. I brought the hand back to her tit, and kneaded it gently—knowing that doing so prolonged her enjoyment. Under my touch, she stiffened a bit, resuming some of her backward pressure, seeking to get herself more deeply impaled on my cock. Then, more slowly, more gently than before, she continued her contractions around me.
"Oooohh, that feels so good," she moaned softly. And then she whispered, "You're so good to me, Charlie."
I kissed the back of her neck—another big wet one. She moaned again in response and quivered in my arms. I continued to squeeze her boob, massaging it gently, and her slow rhythmic contractions continued.
"You're good to me, you know," I pointed out. "You deserve everything I can give you, and more than I can give you."
"Big Brother and Little Sister," she crooned. It was the first line of our childhood litany, which we'd revived and enhanced after we'd become lovers.
"Best friends and lovers," I crooned back the response.
"Now and always," we whispered in chorus.
"I love you so much," she continued.
"I love you even more," I replied, squeezing her lovely little body.
We lay there a little while, until at last her contractions pushed my shrinking cock out of her.
"I like having your cock in me," she whispered. "I wish it would stay longer."
"I like having it in you. And I love holding you close. I'm really glad we have a few nights we can spend together."
"Mmmmm," she moaned as she wiggled herself back against me more tightly.
I held her close and kissed the back of her neck again, causing another moan and another shiver.
"But I think we'd better get a shower and get to work," she finally said.
"I'm afraid you're right," I agreed. "And we'd better get the sheets off the bed and get the spares out. It's probably time to change them, anyway."
"How long has it been, Charlie?"
"Ohh," I said, "I don't think it's been much more than six weeks."
She elbowed me in the ribs. "Charlie! Do you mean to tell me that we've been Doing It on these same sheets for six weeks?" She looked back at me over her shoulder, an expression of mild shock on her face.
I grinned. "Well, you didn't have any objections when you got into bed with me last night, did you? So they couldn't have been all that bad."
"You're a lazy, filthy bum, Charlie," she said. She craned her neck back to kiss me. "But," she went on after the kiss, "you're my lazy, filthy bum."
We lay there for few more minutes, and then we rolled away from each other. Together, we headed for the shower and the official beginning of the new day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By the time we'd finished our shower and gotten dressed, it was half-past-ten. We got a quick breakfast and walked to Krojer to get the makings for the two apple pies Mindy planned to make. She had also promised to fix Mom's cranberry sauce—which both of us loved—and a green salad. So we got the fixings for those items as well.
The cranberry sauce was easy—we just had to measure things, put them together, and let the mixture simmer for a while before pouring it into a soup bowl—which made a dandy substitute for a more formal mold—and then put it in the refrigerator. After we'd gotten that done, we spent a good bit of the afternoon on the pies. I hadn't mastered the mysteries of piecrust—but Mom said that Mindy was an expert, and I was happy to take her word for it. I cored, peeled, sliced, and did other tasks as directed; Mindy did the important parts. It was late afternoon by the time the pies were done. They smelled wonderful. We would take one pie to Steph's the next day, and we would eat the other one—but not, Mindy was adamant, until Friday.
I couldn't budge her on that—not even by pointing out that we weren't even sure that those pies were fit for human consumption and we owed it to Steph and Steve to test them for edibility. It would not do, she said, for us to enjoy ours until we'd shared the other one with our hosts. I sulked a bit, but she used her feminine wiles to raise my spirits.
We had supper that night at Arlene's, our favorite local greasy spoon, so I did get to have some pie that day—but it was cherry, and not apple.
After supper, we went to a movie downtown. I'd put a couple of bottles of white wine—in addition to the ones we were going to take with us the next day—in the refrigerator, and we worked on them until bedtime. So we went to bed—naked, of course—happy with life and with each other. Once in bed, we engaged in a snuggle—followed by more joyful lovemaking. After which, we fell asleep in each other's arms.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was about nine-thirty on Thanksgiving morning when I woke up on my side. Mindy's warm little body was snuggled up against my back, and she was gently pumping my morning boner.
I moaned happily to announce that I was awake, aware of what she was doing, and liked it. Then I added, "That feels really good."
She kissed me between the shoulders—not being quite able to reach my neck. "I like your cock, mister!" she said. "I'm going to the bathroom, and then—"
Having rolled over and taken her into my arms, I interrupted her with a kiss, and then I looked her in the eyes. She smiled at me, and I at her. "…and then we're going to Do the Nasty!" I finished for her. "And the sooner the better!"
Simultaneously, we rolled out from under the quilts and into the November chill of the house. Again, I used the downstairs toilet while she used the upstairs one. Again, I kicked the thermostat back up to a comfortable temperature as I returned to the stairs. Again, knowing what it would find in my bed, my boner reasserted itself on the way up the stairs. Again, she was waiting for me in the bed when I got back.
I slid under the quilts and took my lovely little sister's naked body into my arms as she took mine into hers. I kissed her as her bare little boobs caressed my chest and my hard-on rubbed against her thighs.
As we broke the kiss, I looked into her eyes—their deep, deep blue engulfed me again. She stroked my back and my side, and I caressed her cheek. We both moaned and leaned in for another, longer, deeper kiss. Her hips moved up against me; her legs opened and admitted my cock between her thighs. She clasped it between those thighs and against the wet heat of her pussy—which was opening like a budding flower. She wiggled, and her slippery furrow slid along my length.
When the kiss ended, she folded an arm between us, against my chest. Looking again into my eyes, she whispered, "I love you so much, Charlie."
"Mindy, I love you even more." My arms folded her to me tightly again, and her face moved into the juncture of my neck and my shoulder. But I saw the smile on her lips before I lost sight of them as she delivered hot, moist kisses to my neck.
She rocked her hips, driving her cleft along the length of my cock again; my hips responded. We both moaned.
"Do you remember the first time we touched each other this way?" she asked. Her face was still buried in my neck, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
"God, yes!" I replied. "It really turned me on. You came within a gnat's eyelash of losing your virginity right then and there."
She nibbled on my neck, using lips first, and then—gently—teeth. Our hips continued to rock. We both moaned again.
"It turned me on, too. You should've just taken me then. I'd kind of invited you to." She hadn't raised her face from my neck; her lips went back to work.
"I wanted to. But you didn't know—neither of us knew—how good this feels. You didn't know that what you'd done would be such an invitation. I knew you wouldn't stop me. But I could see that you were afraid to do It."
"I was. You're my brother, and Doing It with you is so wrong. At least, it was then." She nipped me; it stung.
I pinched her ass lightly in retaliation. The pain made her drive herself against me harder, forcing my cock to rub against her pussy more strongly.
She raised her head from my neck, and I saw what I had heard: She was smiling at me. Gently, she pushed me over onto my back and climbed up onto me. She sat up and straddled me, and I felt her desire in the seething kisses her lower lips delivered just below my belly button. The covers fell off of us as she rose, but neither of us noticed the chill in the room.
I reached for her boobs, caressed them, kneaded them. Gently, I tweaked her stiffened nipples. Her hips rocked, and I felt her slipperiness again on my lower belly. She'd backed up some, and my hard, hard cock slipped along the upper part of the cleft between her ass-cheeks.
She put her hands down on the bed to either side of me and transferred the weight of her upper body to them. Slowly, teasingly, her deep blue eyes locked on my own eyes, she bent down toward me until her mouth found mine. Our tongues intertwined as I continued to knead her tits and we rocked our hips against each other.
When she broke the kiss, she rose to the vertical again, taking her hands off of the bed. Her eyes were again locked on mine. She rose to her knees and backed up a bit, until the tip of my cock reached into the cleft of her pussy. Grasping my shaft, then, she guided it into herself as she lowered her body—still vertical—straight down onto me.
We both moaned our delight, and slowly, eyes now closed and mouth slack, she bent down until she lay upon me. She laid her head on my chest. Her hands slid, palm up, under my shoulders, and clasped me. My own arms enveloped her.
We lay there awhile, lost in the sensations that her pussy and my cock brought each other. Gradually, I began to move my hands, stroking and tickling her back. She moaned. I reached down and cupped her ass-cheeks in my hands, drawing her down more tightly against me, embedding my cock even more firmly in her hot, tight warmth.
"Jesus!" I said. "You always feel so good." My cock throbbed and pulsed inside her as I said it; she contracted around it, did it again, and again.
"Oh, Charlie! I love to feel you in me." It was more a moan than a statement. Her hands, still under my shoulders, tightened their grasp in an effort to bring our upper bodies closer than close.
"Do you remember the first time we did this?" I murmured.
"I do; we did it just the way we're doing it now. It was at Belford Lake, when we spent that week alone with each other in the Wind River Mountains. It was such a beautiful place. And you felt so good, just like you feel now. It made me so happy to have your big hard cock so deep in me—just like it does now."
She raised her head and looked into my eyes. The blue fire of her love burned in her eyes; it enveloped me, just as her pussy enveloped my cock. She stretched toward me; I raised my head from the pillow where it lay and reached for her. In spite of the difference in our sizes and the way we'd anchored our hips to each other, our lips met, and we exchanged a long, gentle kiss.