Part One of this story is posted in Erotic couplings. You might want to read it also, to see how this started.
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He was an hour late for work, unshaved and he looked like hell as he made his way through the maze of desks and cubicles to his corner office. He closed the door behind him, threw his coat over a chair and closed the blinds to the outer offices. He needed time to think about last night, and he didn't need any interruptions.
He sat down at his desk and gazed out the window at the surrounding buildings and the traffic, 10 floors below. He wished he could fly. Fly away.
He spun his chair back to his desk and that's when he saw it. The simple white envelope extending from his partially closed laptop. He lifted the screen to the computer and picked up the envelope. Nothing was written on the outside, but he knew who it was from.
It was from her. It was from his sister. He opened it and read the first words, "To my dearest Brother." A choke caught in his throat.
He laid his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes, clasping the letter in his hand. His mind rushed past the events of last night to an evening seven years before.
He was twenty one and home for the winter break before his final semester at college. He and his sister lived with their father in an affluent suburb of a large Midwestern city. Their mother died when he was thirteen and his sister ten. It had been a brain tumor, and she had suffered horribly. And so his father had been left to take care of the boy and girl on his own. The father was an executive for a major pharmaceutical company and was away on business a lot, so it was left to the boy to look after his little sister. They had grown very close.
This night was his sister's eighteenth birthday, and her friends had taken her out for her initiation into the world of adulthood, basically to buy her a few 'legal' beers. Their father had been called out of town for a business appointment, leaving the son alone in the house with his sister. He did not expect to see her until bar closing time.
So, he was very surprised when the doorbell rang at 9:30, and he opened it to see his sister's limp body splayed across the front porch. He stepped out into the night chill to see if anyone else was there, but there was no one. He grabbed her shoulder and shook it, but she did not respond. The smell of beer was strong on her breath. She was passed out.
He slid his arms under her legs and shoulders and lifted her slight frame to his chest. He pushed the door open with his foot and carried her into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He slowly carried his unconscious sister up the stairs to her room.
The room was dark except for the ambient glow from the hallway lamp. He gently laid her on the bed and pulled off her fur-lined parka. As he did this, she groaned and rolled toward him, her soft blue cashmere sweater riding up, exposing the smooth skin of her belly. He looked at her breasts, barely hidden now, as they rose and fell with her breathing. He could plainly see the outline of her nipples through the fabric. There was no bra. He pushed the thought from his mind and moved to the end of the bed.
He pulled off her loafers and socks and looked up the length of her legs. He knew he should just throw the covers over her and let her sleep it off. But he didn't. Instead, he decided that he would undress her, put her pajamas on and let her sleep it off comfortably. She was his sister, after all. They had taken baths together when they were little, hadn't they?
He reached for the waistband of her pleated skirt and undid the top two buttons. He hesitated one last second and then pulled off the skirt. He was stunned to see his little sister wearing no panties. He couldn't believe it. It had to be a trick her friends had played on her before they dumped her on the doorstep.
He wanted not to look, but he couldn't help himself. He pulled her leg toward him spreading her as he did. He saw her feminine folds open to his view and noticed that the dark hair had been neatly trimmed away from the lips. He gasped as he felt himself harden. His thoughts were turning to those he knew were wrong, but he wasn't sure he could stop them.
He moved further up the bed and gently pulled the sweater over her head. And then he had to stand up to look at the full length of his sister. She was more than he could have imagined. Her hair was long and dark and had fallen over her face. Her breasts were small but turned up with perfect brown nipples. Her stomach was flat and her waist slender. Her legs were long and elegantly shaped. My God, she was beautiful.
He was rock-hard now, as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. His mind was reeling, but he couldn't stop. He placed his hand between her legs and quietly began to stroke her. She stirred, but remained asleep. He reached his other hand to feel the supple firmness of her breasts, taking one nipple between his fingers, feeling it harden to his touch. His fingers began to move faster in her as she became more and more moist. He increased the pressure on her tiny sensitive button, and she seemed to respond by moving her hips slightly against his hand. It was more than he could take.
He removed his hand from her breasts and undid his belt, hurriedly pulling his pants and underwear down and over his hips allowing his straining erection to come free.
As he continued to bury his fingers inside his sister, he began to pump himself furiously, knowing he didn't have long. And then he heard a slight moan escape her throat and he felt her legs clamp together, trapping his fingers. He continued stroking himself as he saw her body start to shudder. It was too much. He felt the eruption from within him in agonizing spurts, that felt so good. He saw the semen arc from him onto his sister belly and breasts. It seemed to keep coming forever. He wanted it to. He closed his eyes and stroked the last drops out of himself, just as his sister's legs relaxed their grip on him. Her hips slumped back into the bed.
Moments later, as his senses came back to him, he felt a panic. He pulled her beautiful hair way from her face but she remained unconscious, her breathing returning to normal. He looked down at her body with his white seed covering her and guilt overcame him.
"What have I done," he thought, "what have I done?"
He walked into the bathroom they shared across the hall and ran warm water over a washcloth. He wiped himself off first and pulled his slacks back up. He rinsed out the washcloth again and moved back to her. He cleaned himself off of her. He moved to her dresser and got out her pajamas. After only a small struggle, he had her clothed and under the covers. He looked down at his beautiful little sister lying there, passed out, and not so little anymore. He bent over and kissed the top of her head. And then he left, closing her door behind him.
He walked back downstairs, put on his parka and stepped out the back patio doors, into the cold December night air. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and leaned back against the house. He knew he had done wrong. She was his sister and it was forbidden. But he had been unable to stop and, God help him, it had felt so good. Thankfully, she had not awakened. He began to cry.
That was seven years ago, and it was like yesterday. His sister had awakened the next day with a gigantic hangover. She had come down into the kitchen, still in her pajamas. She had asked him if he had put them on her and he told her yes. She thanked him, kissed his cheek and then never said another word. It would remain his secret, his terrible secret. And it did. Until last night.
He opened his eyes to the present and began to read the letter his sister had written.
"My dearest Brother,
I believe I know what you are thinking after last night. You're thinking what we did was wrong. And me, I don't know what I think about last night. But I know what I felt, and it didn't feel wrong. It felt good. It felt very good. I loved your touch on me and in me. And I loved taking you into my mouth and feeling you swell and hearing you groan. And I loved having your tongue taste me. I have wanted this to happen for a long time now. Seven years, to be exact. Yes, my brother, I know what happened that night. I was drunk, but I was aware. I know you thought I was still passed out, but your touch brought me awake. I acted asleep because I knew you would stop and run if you knew I was awake. Your fingers in me that night made me cum like no one ever had or has since. I can make myself wet just thinking about it. And when you came all over me, well, it was thrilling to have that effect on you. But, I didn't know what to do afterward, so I pretended. And then you went back to school and graduated and got this job so far away. And, so for the past seven years I have wondered. All through college, I fucked lots of boys. I say fucked not made love, because I have never made love or felt it since that night. And with you throwing yourself into your writing and not getting married, well, I just had to know what it would be like with you for real. And, now I know. And I loved it. I loved it so much it made me laugh. And even though you left so quickly, I know you loved it too. I also know your guilt is eating away at you. We 'broke the rules' we did the 'forbidden.' But whose rules? Not mine. And if you really think about how you felt seven years ago and how you were last night, I think you know they are not your rules either. So, I will be coming to you again soon. I won't tell you when, but very soon. And we will taste each other again. Until then, I love you.
