Love Is Close To Home

My sister and I were born only 13 months apart. I don't know what possessed my mother to have me so soon after Michelle, but she did. It probably added to how close the two of us were while growing up, but the first years must have been murder on Mother, and is most likely why she never had any other kids. I don't know that for sure, but Michelle and I both figure that must have been at least part of it. By the way, while most people called my sister by her first name Janet, or some nickname, I called her by her middle name for many years, and do again now.

Our parents raised us a bit differently from the way our friends, and I guess most people, were raised. When we were old enough, our parents treated us as though we knew right from wrong, and when we strayed, would sit us down and talk to us rationally. I remember once, when I was about 12, that a friend snapped me with a wet towel. Man, that hurt! I thought it would be funny to do it to my sister, who ran into her room crying. My dad sat me down and started talking to me. The conversation went something like this:

"So, Janet doesn't seem to appreciate what you did. Why did you do that?"

"Well, Bobby did it to me, and I thought it would be funny to do it to someone else."

"So, you wanted to take it out on someone else?"

"Well, no, I mean, not like that, uhm..."

"Did it hurt when Bobby did it to you?"

"Yeah, smarted like hell."

"Was it funny to you when he did it?"

"Uhm, no, I guess not."

"Mmm, but you thought it must have been funny for the person at the other end."

"Uhm, I guess. Kind of dumb, hunh?"

"Well, that's for you to decide. Do you think that Janet appreciates being treated like one of your male friends?"

"No, I guess not."

"Why is that?"

"Because she's a girl?"

"Well, that may be something to think about. What else?"

"She's my sister."

"Why does that matter?"

"Well, I should be looking out for her. Protecting her."

"Really? From what?"

"Well, I'd get pretty mad if someone else did something like that to her!"

"But it's okay for you to."

"No, I guess not. Pretty dumb, when I think about it that way."

"Hmm. So, what are you going to do now?"

"Apologize."

"Why?"

"Because what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"Being sorry is a good reason. You'll have to decide for yourself the right and wrong of it. But tell me, are you going to do something like that again?"

"No way!"

"Well, then maybe you really are sorry, and I suspect that Janet would appreciate being told that."

That was the kind of upbringing we had. We were taught to respect other people, think about our actions and their consequences, and so on. I've never considered myself the brightest of people, but this kind of parenting made me think a lot more about what's important than any of the straight-A students in my school. I think the same can be said of Michelle, though I've always considered her way smarter than me.

As I said, Michelle and I were incredibly close growing up. Being close in age, we could actually do similar things, talk about common topics, and so on. While friends fought with their siblings, we rarely even had an argument. We enjoyed the same music, movies, you name it. Since I grew up fairly quickly, we were even able to get into PG movies at the same time. They would check her ID, then assume I was her boyfriend and not bother checking mine.

One other thing about Michelle; I always felt she had style. When everyone else was chasing the fad of the day, she always went her own way. She dressed well, and learned to sew when she couldn't find dresses that wouldn't look stupid in two years. When everyone else was wearing god-awful platform shoes, she was wearing low-heeled pumps that may not have been "in fashion", but always looked good. I think it made her look a little more sophisticated than the rest of the school kids. She never lost that design sense.

When Michelle hit 18, we went to a bar together a couple times, but we didn't see the thrill others saw in it. Maybe it was different with a group of friends, or we were too level-headed. I don't know for sure. But then, maybe it was because our parents raised us knowing about alcohol, so it wasn't this big "forbidden" thing that made it "cool". Once we hit 15, they would let us have wine with them during dinner on special occasions. The summer I was 16, dad would toss me a cold one as he sat down with his after we spent a hard day in the garden and mowing the lawn, or working on the car. So a bar, at least the ones near us, seemed pretty cheesy to us.

After graduation, we each moved away to different cities. The town we lived in didn't have the diversity and size for the kinds of things we each wanted to work at. I needed a big arts community if I was going to build stage sets, and Michelle was destined to be a big-time financial planner. Spokane was my stepping stone, while Boise was hers.

When I was 22, our parents died in a car crash. Michelle and I were devastated, and spent a fair bit of time during the following month consoling each other. They had left us in decent financial standing, but we would have given it all away to have our parents back. We weren't rich, but it was enough for us to each buy a house, or get a degree, that sort of thing. In respect, I put my money in the bank until I really knew what I wanted to use it for. Turns out Michelle did the same, locking it up in a ten-year investment fund that could only be touched earlier for education costs. I think we both felt bad about having the money because of where it came from, but we also loved our parents more for knowing they sacrificed some luxuries when they were alive to make sure we would be secure if the unthinkable happened. We both went through lots of emotional turmoil during this time.

It was two years later that Michelle got married. I flew to Boise for the wedding, and gave the bride away. This was probably the first time since we left home that I saw Michelle as anything but my sister. Wow, did she look good! By this time, she was 5'7", probably 34-30-35, definitely a "D" cup, and dressed like a fox. Her husband was one lucky guy. I actually felt jealous that my sister was marrying some guy I hardly knew.

It turns out that the idiot didn't appreciate what he had. Four years later, Michelle phoned me in tears. They were divorcing because she couldn't have children. Seems he only really married her because he wanted a son to continue his family name. He won a princess, but was just looking for a breeder. Michelle couldn't be the trophy wife-progeny producer that he "needed". Michelle and I spoke for endless hours on the phone, with me comforting her through the whole ordeal. The only really good part was that the creep couldn't touch Michelle's money from our parents' accident, so she wasn't any worse off than before. But that was the only bright spark in the gloom.

Another two years passed before I actually saw Michelle, and by then I was in Denver. We had talked a lot on the phone in the meantime, and found we still had a lot of things in common. I guess that may not be too unusual for siblings, but we had taken radically different paths after high school, so it was a bit of a pleasant surprise to find that the old commonalities were still there. She finally came to visit me in Denver in the summer.

I couldn't believe the babe that came off of the airplane! She had grown her wavy red hair long, was dressed to kill, and was any man's wet dream. I got a very enthusiastic hug from her, and I can't exactly say it wasn't enjoyed! We finally parted, got her bags, and headed off. I was going to be her tour guide for the next two weeks.

-------------

The first two days were pretty standard. I showed her around, we ate dinner, watched TV, and then retired to our rooms. Michelle was crashing in my spare room/den. I got to know her then in a way you couldn't over the phone. While she could seem very assertive, she also knew how to make it all seem pleasant. In a restaurant once, she insisted that her steak was overdone and should be replaced, but she did it in a way that didn't offend or upset anyone. It was remarkable watching this strong yet kind woman work her magic, and I almost felt like a hick beside her. Were we really raised in the same family?

The third day started normally, but at some point things changed slightly. I don't know when it happened or how it really started, but as we walked through a park or down the street, or sat on a bench watching the birds, we started holding hands. It felt nice, and made me feel like I was a little special. Once, she even kissed me.

During supper that day, Michelle looked over at me a little pensively. "Do you remember how close we were growing up? How we could talk about anything?"

"Yeah. How could I forget?"

"Do you ever miss having that?"

"All the time. You?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it the last two days. I kind of miss it. No demands. You know? Just being able to talk about anything, with no judgements."

"Yeah."

"I think we were the closest then we'd ever been. Why did it stop?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. I think it was the school load in your last year. You were pretty focused on graduating, and I was having a bit of a hard time to. We never seemed to have time to talk anymore. We only really saw each other at supper that last school year, from what I remember."

"Uhm, if you don't mind me asking, have you ever been close like that with anyone else?"

"Nope. Not even remotely. Part of why I'm still single, I guess. While sex can be fun with almost any girlfriend, for a real lasting relationship I need the ability to talk openly and honestly to someone who won't judge everything I say. You know?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Have you had that?"

A sad look came on her face. "I thought I had that with Frank, but I obviously completely misread him." Shake. "But enough of that."

"You brought it up, sis."

"Yeah, I know. I guess I just wanted to know how you felt about things, not thinking that you'd ask me and that the asshole would then come into it."

"Fair enough, but we've gotten a lot of the old closeness back since dick-weed left."

"Yeah. We have, haven't we?"

"Yep. Now if only you were my girlfriend, I'd be set!" Did I really say that?!?

Michelle gave me a quirky grin. "Let's do the dishes and watch a mindless movie."

"OK. I'll dry. I know where stuff goes, and don't want to find my bowls in with the silverware." She stuck her tongue out at that, though she was smiling again. It looked like a very nice tongue.

After the movie and some gabbing, we got ready for bed. I got the washroom first while Michelle finished her pop, and then I went into the kitchen in my robe to grab a quick glass of water before bed. I heard Michelle finish in the washroom, and she was stepping out into the hallway in her robe just as I was passing. As I stepped into my room, she followed me. I turned around surprised, and she just shrugged off her robe. She then undid mine and pushed it off, and grabbed me in a passionate kiss. She quickly pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top of me, kissing me with an intensity that was unreal. I have to admit, I was rock hard in seconds.

Before I knew it, she impaled herself on my pole, and was fucking me. We weren't making love; it was nothing so civilized. This was pure, animal lust fucking. I pumped desperately in and out of her incredibly slippery hole as she pumped up and down above me like a jackhammer. She came twice before I got enough friction in her soaking wet hole to blast into her. I pumped my cum deep into her cunt for longer than I ever remember coming before. When I was finished and started going soft, she collapsed beside me. Not a word had been spoken; only our moans and the shaking of the bed had broken the silence. I gave no thought to the fact that I had just fucked my sister, cumming deep in her cunt.

When we both recovered, Michelle turned to me and kissed me. Still without saying anything, we began a slow, sensual, love session. This time, it was making love. We slowly explored each other's bodies with our hands. I gave no thought to the fact that it was my sister's lovely breasts, my sister's flat stomach, or my sister's shapely legs that I was caressing. The only thought in my head was how gorgeous this woman beside me was. How good she felt. And that I wanted to be with her. We lasted for over an hour, before I slipped my cock into her again. As my cock slid home, Michelle beamed at me and kissed me deeply, her tongue playing with mine. After what must have been a half hour, I pumped my second load into her. Michelle had come three more times while I pumped in and out of her. We fell asleep in each other's arms.

When I awoke, my sister was still there beside me, a soft smile on her face. It wasn't a dream, after all. I softly brushed some hair from her face, and then I quietly got up, showered and went into the kitchen. As I was eating breakfast, I heard the shower run. She soon came into the kitchen and sat down.

"I'm sorry I took advantage of you. I don't know what came over me. That was wrong of me."

"What do you mean?"

"I needed someone desperately, and I pushed you into it against your will. It was wrong of me, especially considering you're my brother. I'm sorry. That won't happen again. I'll go home if you want me to leave."

"Michelle, while it may have been quite a shock, it wasn't against my will. I was a more than willing participant. I've got no regrets about what we did last night. I've been sitting here thinking about how wonderful it was. OK, the first bit was a bit hard-core, but the rest of it was magic."

"You're not mad at me?" She looked a little stunned.

"No. I'm not mad at you. If anything, I'm in dream land. There's always been a small ember of sexuality between us. Now it's out in the open. What maybe always should have been the obvious continuation of our relationship, perhaps. I can't say that with certainty, but I CAN say I'm the happiest I've been in a long time."

"Are you serious?" Michelle looked serious, but not in any judgmental way, and the stunned look was gone. She really wanted to know.

"Yes, I am. Very serious. I don't know how you feel about it, and I hope it doesn't change what we have, but yes. I'm happy with what happened last night. Very happy."

"You don't think what we did was wrong?"

"We're both consenting adults. It may be wrong in some people's eyes, but not in mine."

"How would you feel if it happened again, though? If I went crazy again."

"I'd be overjoyed. I may even start it myself."

"Really? You'd be tempted?"

"More than just 'tempted,' but only if you said you were OK with it. If you're upset about what we did, then tell me now and I'll be a model brother for the rest of your visit."

"Then, can I ask a favour?"

"My lovely sister can ask anything she wants. Well, almost..."

"Can I move my clothes into your bedroom?"

"Because...?"

"I'd rather not walk naked down the hallway each morning in order to get dressed."

"Then yes. I'd love to share my room and my bed with you. Let's finish breakfast, and then we'll move the dresser you're using into my bedroom. My closet is mostly empty, so there's lots of room for your dresses and things."

That night, we made love again. All of Michelle's stuff was in my room, and she was in my bed. We started slowly, but she got aroused quickly. I figured that since we were lovers now, I would do what I love doing most. So after some kissing and caressing, I started to slide down to eat her pussy.

"No, don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I cream a lot when I'm excited. It turns men off. I don't want you to get grossed out."

"How much is a lot?"

"A LOT. I've soaked through thick cotton panties and had it run down my leg. It's so embarrassing."

"It sounds delicious, actually."

I slid down, and began my assault on her pussy. She was right. Man, did she cream! I loved it, licking her to two organisms before sliding up and slipping my cock into her still-sopping cunt. Again, it took a while for me to cum because of how slippery her hole was. I love fucking, and hate cumming too soon. Michelle came a third time before I could finally pump my load into her.

After we rested a little, I looked at her. "I love your slippery hole."

"Don't you mind not cumming easily?"

"Quite the opposite. The more I have to work at it, the better it feels when I cum. I also love the fact that it means you cum several times before I do."

"Mmmm. Thanks, lover. You're the first person that hasn't minded how wet I get. And that's thought about my cumming as well as their own."

"The others are idiots. It's the loveliest and tastiest pussy I've ever found. Befitting the loveliest woman I've ever known. And it deserves to be thought of, as do you."

"You mean that?"

"Yes, on all counts. I love you, sis, more than I've ever loved anyone before."

"Oh, and I love you, my brother! Thank you!" We kissed softly, and then fell asleep in each other's arms. As it turned out, falling asleep together after sex was how most remaining nights would end.

During the day, we were that much closer. We not only held hands, but she would lean into my shoulder sometimes. We would lean over and kiss each other. We must have looked to the world like two lovebirds. Certainly nobody would have thought we were brother and sister!

Two days later, Michelle surprised me in the kitchen. Once again, I was eating breakfast while she showered. She came into the kitchen and dropped down in front of me. Opening my robe, she started licking my cock. As soon as I was hard, she started the most incredible blow job I've ever had. She worked her mouth up and down, letting up when I was close to cumming. She was able to open her throat, and take me all the way into her mouth. She would bob up and down, then swirl her tongue around my cock. She squeezed the base of my cock a few times to keep me from cumming, and then would continue her amazing fellatio. Up and down and all around. She was able to take me right to the base without problems. I don't know how she could open her throat like that without gagging. She teased me like that for an eternity until she finally let me cum.

She swallowed enthusiastically, and I thought she swallowed my entire load, but she stood up over me and kissed me deeply, pushing a big wad of my semen into my mouth. We continued kissing, tongues dueling, pushing the cum back and forth and mixing it with our saliva until we had swallowed it all. I caressed a breast the entire time. She pulled back and, after giving me a grin full of mischief and delight, poured herself a cup of tea. Not a word had been spoken the entire time.

After a few moments, with me feeling like a wet rag, she asked, "So, did you like that?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely!"

"You don't mind that you ate your own cum?"

"I hadn't really thought of it, but no, I guess not."

"So, you won't mind if I do it again?"

"Not at all. You can give me a mind-blowing blow job any time you want! If swallowing my cum is supposed to turn me off, it doesn't. You can do that as often as you can get me hard."

"Good." And she grinned again.

Another day passed, when the next surprise was sprung on me. That evening, she pushed me back on the bed after I ate her out to an orgasm. She sat down on my pole and began to fuck me. She slid up and down my pole, using her muscles to increase the friction. I finally came after she had cum twice. I flooded her pussy with my load as I massaged her tits. My balls were soaked in her juices, and I was definitely ass-down in a big wet spot. She quickly moved up and dropped her pussy onto my face. I cleaned her out as best I could, swallowing as much of her juice and my cum that I could suck out of her. I licked her to another orgasm, and would have kept going if she hadn't fallen away and held me back.