My little sister, Joan, was kneeling over me, her hands on the bed, either side of my abdomen. She supported herself in an arch over my groin, terminating at the shapely vulva between her spread legs. She gazed intensely into my eyes. It was her turn.
"If it's pure practicality we're talking about," I said, "I might just lick you, if that's OK. I've never been able to get a woman off with my hands alone."
We swapped positions. I took a moment to touch her body. I ran the palms of my hands down the sides of her torso and the tops of her thighs, my thumbs resting lightly on her ribs, her waist, her pubic mound.
I took her breasts in my hands, giving her nipples each a couple of gentle flicks with the tips of my thumbs. Then, lowering myself gently to her abdomen, I ran my lips and nose over her belly, not quite kissing, breathing in the smell of her body.
I shuffled my way inch by inch down the bed until my face was between her legs. Stroking the insides of her thighs, I inhaled her scent deeply.
As I breathed her in, I understood what this little olfactory signal was communicating to me: my little sister was a woman, a sexually mature adult capable of breeding, capable of who knows what manner of horny naughtiness, a woman who fucked.
I kissed her pussy lips.
Joan let out a long, low moan. I could only imagine what was going through her head.
I tongued the entrance to her vagina. I gave her a long, slow, wet lick along the insides of her labia. I flicked the tiny hooded bud at the apex with my tongue.
I sucked my sister's clitoris and slipped two fingers into her warm, wet hole aching for cock. I savoured her taste, taking her fluids into my body. She quickly reached orgasm.
"Is it intentionally sexual now?" Joan said.
At this point a discussion will have followed around whether we had broken the ground rule and whether the ground rule was misguided.
What does "intentionally sexual" even mean? Whenever I had looked at my naked sister and found her attractive, had that been "intentionally sexual"? Whenever I had masturbated, fantasising about her, and she only in the next room, knowing full well what I was doing, had that been "intentionally sexual"?
The key thing was: we had still not committed incest. Surely that was the hard rule we had been avoiding all along: no penetration.
Is it really any great crime if a sibling sucks or licks another to completion? Certainly it does no harm to anyone, in itself.
Over the weeks that followed we got increasingly intentionally sexual with each other. The floodgates were open, and all of the pent up lust was pouring out. Yet, even so, we strictly adhered to the final ground rule: no penetration.
After all, many couples can't have penetrative sex for lots of reasons, and nevertheless have fulfilling sexual lives.
Joan and I were both disinclined, for the moment, to seek out sexual partners from among the public. We both had needs, and now we had a way to meet those needs. I think we were equally fulfilled.
We knew it couldn't last. Before long, we would both seek romance again, and family. These are things that are denied to siblings by a kind of natural law that goes back to our prehistoric, prehuman ancestors.
No penetration. In the meantime, however, we could rub up against each other, licking and sucking and touching and stroking to our hearts' content. We weren't harming anyone.
Of course, when I say we strictly conformed to the interdiction against penetration, that's not to say we didn't push that boundary about as far as it could reasonably be pushed.
One evening, lying on the couch watching TV, Joan said to me, "Can we put something else on?"
"Sure," I said, flicking back to the main menu.
After looking at a few of the options, she said, "Actually, I might just go to bed."
She got up from the couch and started making her way toward the hall. I watched the rhythmic movement of her shapely butt as she walked.
"I might do the same," I said, turning the TV off.
"Want to come to mine for a bit?"
"That sounds nice."
Getting under the covers of Joan's bed, we held each other and, for a moment, didn't move. I found the skin on skin contact soothing, and for a moment everything seemed at peace.
There was no need for me to do this with someone I could actually breed with. Have you, dear reader, never shared a bed platonically? It might not be common but I don't think it's unusual. Skin to skin touch is very soothing with someone close to you, regardless of their relationship.
Of course, it wasn't platonic. Joan's wandering hands reached for my buttocks, her fingertips on my lower back and waist. I reciprocated with wandering touches of my own, pressing the sides of her breasts.
When she reached for my cock, I reached for her pussy, relishing the warm wetness between her legs. I was hard in her hands. She stroked me as I stroked her.
"Mm," she said, "lick me again, Will."
I did so, as I would many times over the coming weeks, tasting each fold of her vulva, coaxing her clitoris out of its hood and giving it soft, sweet kisses.
"Mm," she said again. "I want to suck you."
We swapped positions, and she got on her knees between my legs, wrapping her lips around my phallus with a tenderness that had my whole body lighting up in electric shivers.
So warm, so wet. Her mouth felt amazing.
Soon she got up and straddled my groin with her legs, bringing her throbbing pussy close, pressing its wet folds against the shaft.
"Fuck, Will."
Soon she was rubbing the head of my cock against her clitoris. There is no feeling more exquisite and maddening, least of all with one's sister.
We did this often. Sometimes we did it for hours, prolonging the inevitable mutual orgasm, just so we could linger in that forbidden space, so naughty, so unspeakable, so delicious.
Soon the nude swim rolled around again. It was now late October. British Summer Time would be over in a matter of days, and daily temperatures would soon fall, once again, into single digits. Joan decided to sit this one out.
Sure enough, walking onto the beach, completely naked and carrying a mostly empty backpack, I noticed the crowd had thinned considerably. The sun was already setting when I arrived.
There, among the faithful few, was Dave. I went over and said hello.
"Oh, Will, where's your sister?"
"Sitting this one out."
"That's a shame, but I don't blame her." He shivered a little and rubbed his arms. "It's getting cold."
We went into the water together. Neither of us felt like staying in very long. The water was magnificent, as always, but the cold can stress the body after a while. We were soon back on the sand.
We caught up a bit. Janine was back in Liverpool. I learned that she was originally from Berlin, but had been in Liverpool for nearly ten years.
Dave was doing well. He had some kind of computer-related job I didn't really understand, but it sounded like he had had some successes, so I wished him the best, as always.
I asked him if he was still single, and he told me about his various dates with women from dating apps. I'd met Sarah on such an app, so I couldn't say they didn't work.
He asked how I was coping with the breakup.
"Not hurting. Just in no hurry to get back into a relationship."
"Meanwhile," he said, "you've got the company of your fine younger sister."
I nodded in agreement, but, in the back of my mind, there was something about his tone I didn't like.
"Will," he said, "I have to ask... it's really none of my business, you know you don't have to tell me anything..."
I was curious. "Shoot."
"You and Joan..."
I felt an itchy heat under my skin, coming from somewhere on the back of my neck and spreading to my face.
"I'm just going to say it," he said. "Are you two... shagging?"
