Bluebird Pt 02

I lay in my bed, unable to sleep that night; my consciousness berating me incessantly; guilt making it impossible to find a comfortable position. Tossing and turning, I watched the shadows play out the deviant behavior exhibited before the world went dark. As the song of the bluebird penetrated the cold morning, I arose, lambasted by restlessness and shame. I hobbled to the door, grabbing my towel on the way, and turned the knob.

"Good morning." The soft serenade of the greeting rejuvenated my being far more than my guilt-ridden night.

I looked up to view the siren; her song dramatically eclipsed by her beauty. She stood with her back toward me, gazing out at the lake, bathed in the muted light of dawn. Her vacant back fascinated my naive mind. Gaping at her repetitive neglect for suitable clothing, I marveled at her aesthetic audacity to solely don floral-print skivvies. Such beauty captivated me, confining my thoughts to the cell of impropriety.

"Wanna cup?" she offered, turning slightly to make visible the white mug in hand.

My jaw fell, as I glimpsed a tiny, chestnut region of her modest breast, distinct from her olive complexion. The sight stirred me as Danielle resumed her former position staring into the reflective lake, concealing the appreciable areola.

"Wait!" I shouted in hopes that her response would reveal the intimate, but Danielle refused to respond.

I stepped toward her, longing for another frame of exhibition. The inappropriate nature of simply asking blatantly disregarded my upbringing; though, the brash request had been implemented on me. I felt powerless, left clinging to a memory of an exotic image. My feet refused to provide a more appropriate angle to view the pornographic. My mind flickered upon the possibility of accepting the coffee offered thirty seconds ago.

"Yeah, I'll take a cup." I called with the volume needed in a crowded Starbucks.

"The kettle's on." Danielle turned her head and smiled slyly.

Dumbfounded by her answer, I dropped the towel, abandoning my design to shower and skipped to the range. The French press, though alluring, ceased to be a viable option due to my salacious appetites. Though I didn't much care for hot chocolate, I pulled the full canister out of the cupboard. In less than half a minute, I stood alongside Danielle, finding her arm across her breasts obscuring the indecent she had so willingly neglected to cover a minute ago. Failing in my object, I sipped the unfulfilling brew, conceding defeat.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Danielle confessed softly, her eyes not turning from the lake.

"Yeah," I agreed guiltily.

Silence followed as I forced myself to shift my attention on the gorgeous lake.

"I enjoy this place because I can be myself," she admitted. "I'm free here. And I'm sorry if I took that freedom away from you."

Her sentiments resonated within me. I loved the lake and its surrounding mountains, not just because of their stunning beauty, but because of the authenticity I felt here. Initially, I allowed Danielle to view my genitals for no other reason than my desires. It had been my decision to pull down the swim briefs, not once, but twice. Those actions reflected who I truly am.

"I hope you can still be yourself around me Sam," Danielle expressed, her gaze turning from the lake to me.

I hesitated to answer. The experiences of yesterday had left such an indelible impression on my conscience that I no longer could define myself. The characteristics of virtue and stalwartness were often attributed to me, not only by teachers and parents, but by my peers also. To describe the abhorrent events of my public masturbation as distressing would be to describe the deluge of Noah as a shower.

I stole a glance at Danielle's concealed breasts, hoping that she had grown tired of her folded arm, but it remained unmoved. My eyes fell naturally to her flat abs and exposed navel, eventually nestling on her seductive, low-cut underwear. I snapped back to the now, to the existential crisis that my sister, this lake house, and the allure of nature had so blatantly exposed.

Danielle's attention remained fixed on the charming lake at dawn. Her poised frame sharply contradicted mine in regards to the previous day when our attire was more or less identical. Shame eluded her, when it had consumed me. But this was her constitution; she always had an air of confidence about her.

"Sam," she spoke casually. "Wanna go for a run?"

-----

We reached the shore opposite the lake house when Danielle slowed to a stop. The pace had been hurried, but the view from second didn't disappoint.

"Ha!" I exhaled. "I haven't run that quick since Cross Country."

Danielle turned and smiled. She pulled her hair out of the neat bun it had been tied up in, and began untying her shoes.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

"Going for a swim," she replied.

I looked at her funny, unsettled by her apparent disregard to my enjoyable run. My mind grew uneasy with the prospect of losing out on my view her tight glutes.

"Aren't you going to join me?" Danielle said.

I stood shocked, looking down at my apparel more suitable for the previously-appointed exercise, but Danielle continued to remove the necessary articles of clothing to continue.

"Look," Danielle remarked after seeing my hesitancy to follow, "I'll make it worth it."

I sighed and quietly complied, pulling off my shirt. As I bent to untie my shoes, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the back of my sister's sports bra rise with her elbows. I stifled my reaction to call her out on the inappropriateness of her behavior as my identity compelled. Instead, I hastened untying my shoes and shucking my socks. I abolished my shorts, leaving me only with briefs. Looking up, I saw Danielle craning to watch as I undressed.

"Take them off," she commanded.

I stared at her blankly. I couldn't fathom how she could request such an action and put my hands up in rejection.

"Take them off, or I'm not turning around."

Caught between guilt and desire, I conceded and slowly inched down the briefs, again exposing my hairless genitals. Asking myself how I had come to this conclusion, I clutched my small penis in my cupped hands, anxiously awaiting the revelation of the pornographic.

Turning fully, Danielle exhibited her breathtaking body, gloriously bare and actual. Her abdominals, framed by lean obliques, surrounded an astounding, recessed navel. Rising abruptly, her small breasts culminated in modest, chestnut areolas. Her protruding nipples stood erect in the cool, mountain breeze. Open and engaging, imagination could never excite more exquisitely than the authentic. Shamelessly and silently, Danielle strolled passed my astounded form, strands of her hair catching innocently on her nipples.

She stopped, a foot or so shy of the rippling water; her thumbs slipping under the figure-hugging Lycra. Her hands shot downward, revealing two spectacular gems; my regret from abandoning the run instantly disappeared. As Danielle stepped out of her exercise shorts, I hobbled toward her, unwilling to miss any ostentatious behavior disclosed by my older sibling.

As I followed her into the cold water, she turned, exhibiting her perfect frame. She laughed and kicked the ankle-deep liquid at me. Her groin, significantly paler than the rest of her body, appeared immaculate, funneling to two, suspended, adipose mounds. Split by a short furrow, the bare, knobby labia were without blemish and unyielding. They bulged slightly outward on either side of the cleft, enhancing the intrigue.

"No, God!" I cried in dismay.

My sister's shaftless groin and exposed bust had brought me to the height of arousal. Frantically, my hands revealed my small erection, flying to my hair in fear. I felt the demoralizing surge of semen swell from my testicles, vociferating its release. I moaned helplessly to Danielle, to the open sky, begging them to depart.

Danielle's face portrayed the terror she felt. It wasn't right for her to see this again, even if she hadn't witnessed masturbation. Her confidence lost in my clear panic, she hid her intimates with her hands.

"No, God," I sobbed more solemnly once more, the inevitability of ejaculation breaking me.

As I felt the first contraction, I knew no power could stop it. Semen followed a few contractions later, spurting out my urethral opening into the cool, mountain air. Not only was this happening in front of Danielle, there were no walls, only world. Orgasm ceased to be excluded to the intimate.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled somberly, turning back to the shore dejected.

"It's okay," my sister stammered, her voice not concealing her shock.

I dipped my hand in the water and washed my soiled penis; my erection waning gradually. Upset and confused, I refused to give attention to the spectacle of my naked sibling advancing to me.

"It's okay Sam," she gently spoke. "I understand."

I didn't look up.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I only wanted to skinny dip because I've always wanted to." Her words gave me pause to the shame.

"Yeah, me too." I admitted.

"So why don't we?" Danielle extended her hand to me.

I smiled as I viewed my naked sister, her enticing body beautifully reflecting on the surface of the lake.