Michael Smith - Siblings

And as I thought that, she brought her hands up flat on my chest and firmly pushed herself back from me. Hell, I thought, I messed it up. Or she's suddenly come awake and realized what's happening. But that wasn't it at all.

Instead, she propped herself up on her elbow, her long hair falling across her face, and tugged one arm out of the sleeve of her tee shirt. Then it went over her head and she lay back, slipped out her other arm, and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. She looked over at me and smiled lazily again. She had to be fully awake she wanted to pretend she wasn't. That way, she didn't have to take responsibility for what was happening.

I didn't understand all this at the time, of course. I was up on my elbow, gazing at her breasts and face and hair, and thinking in wonderment how really beautiful and desirable my sister was. Neither of us ever tanned much and there was an obvious flush spreading down her pale, freckled collarbone. These aren't "tits" or "boobs," I remember thinking; these are the genuine thing. Things.

I hesitated another moment. It was like a jerk-off fantasy. She took my hand and carried it to her left breast. When she lay on her back, it had flattened out some but her nipple stood up like a tiny missile. Her breastbone moved slowly up and down. I covered her breast with my hand, which began moving in circular motions, apparently knowing what it wanted more clearly than the rest of me did. Except for my cock, which was searching for the opening in the front of my briefs.

My propped-up arm was quivering with tension so I lay back down on my side and continued rhythmically kneading and massaging one breast. But there was another one that wanted attention, too, so I leaned over and put out the flat of my tongue and dragged it across her other nipple. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her eyelids flutter and her lips part. That removed the last bit of guilt I felt; we were sharing this experience now.

I sucked at her nipple and tasted the texture of its resilience and Alex made a sucking sound in reply. Her left hand was jammed behind her pillow and her right hand had wrapped itself half around my neck and over the top of my head. Her fingers tugged lightly at my hair in syncopation to what my mouth was doing.

I loved Alex so much at that moment, in so many different ways, I knew I had to kiss her immediately. That was what you did with someone you loved. Or someone you were making out with. My motives were confused but my feelings were real enough.

I gripped her arms and shoulders and pulled her off the pillow so we could stare into each other's eyes. I had never seen passion or sexual hunger in a girl's eyes before – I had never seen it anywhere – but I recognized it instinctively. Her arms circled my neck and pulled me back down, and she made that little noise in her throat again. When our lips touched, there was an actual, physical shock, a spark. The emotional pressure almost made our teeth click together. I put out my tongue a little and hers attacked it. In ten seconds we were slobbering all over each other's faces, both of us moaning together. I wasn't sixteen yet but I was in love. That was all that mattered.

My left arm was under her shoulders while I stabbed kisses up and down the front of her throat, but my other hand was feeling left out. I don't think I knew where it was as it traveled confidently down Alex's diaphragm and across her flat, trembling stomach. But the instant my fingers reached her navel, her hand shot southward like lightning and grabbed them.

"No, Michael. No further than that – please."

I lifted my head and looked at her face, a little bewildered. No what? Then I realized my hand was pinned firmly by hers, my middle finger stroking her belly-button. Oh.

"Okay," I said hoarsely. What else was I going to say? I moved my hand back up along her side, buried my face in her neck, and hugged her to me.

Looking back, I marvel at my restraint, my self-control. The animal was loose, I knew that, and partly I didn't care – but my better side managed to keep it on a choke chain. If my hand had reached its objective unobstructed, I'm not sure what I could have done about it, that night anyway. Just as well it didn't happen. I loved Alex, I knew she loved me, and I was happy.

A little while later we drifted off, our arms wrapped around each other. We moved back to our own pillows during the night, still asleep, but I believe we slept facing each other the entire night, and when we awoke in the morning we were still holding hands. Alex smiled at me briefly but intensely and gave me a lingering kiss on the lips before her practical side took over.

"We'll be late for school!"

She scooted out of bed and bent quickly to pick up her tee shirt, which had fallen to the floor. Gravity did a marvelous thing to her small breasts as she bent. In profile, each formed a perfect shallow arc punctuated by a nipple. Another astounding image for my mental projection screen. Then she was out the door, headed for the bathroom, her bottom moving tightly beneath the cotton, always in control. I lay there another moment and replayed the marvel of the night just ended. This was the girl I wanted to spend all my time with and she was already right here with me

… and now there were whole new dimensions to that thought. I grinned idiotically at the ceiling.

One night a month or so later, I was lying in bed late, reading a book I had to finish for a report. As I turned a page, beginning to drift off to sleep, I heard a low, smothered moan from across the hall. My sister's door was half-open, as usual (as was mine), but her light was out. I heard the sound again and wondered vaguely what the matter was. Maybe Alex was ill. Even after my previous voyeuristic experience, the obvious conclusion escaped me completely (I could be incredibly thick at that age).

Yawning and still thinking about the story I was reading, I got out of bed and went across to check on her; I knew she had been experiencing painful menstrual periods lately and I felt especially helpless about such things. Leaving my door open to spill a little light, I opened her door all the way and paused while my eyes adjusted. She seemed to be asleep, or at least her eyes were closed. She made an odd whimpering sound and moved her head from side to side. Her covers were wadded up around her waist and her hands were out of sight. I stepped over to the bed where she was tossing, and touched her shoulder. Still dense as I stone, I was.

"Alex?" I asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

Her eyes and her mouth both popped open, startled, and she pulled up the covers a few inches. Then she lay very still.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay. Why? What's the matter?" Even in the dim light, I could see how flushed her face was.

"Well, I heard all these strange sounds…" It was beginning to dawn on me that this was a repeat of my recent experience. I knew I should be embarrassed, but instead I was very interested. Fascinated, in fact. I took a chance and sat on the edge of her bed. My sister began to squirm.

"Alex, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were… I mean, I thought you…" Now*I* was becoming embarrassed.

There was a glow in her eyes that I was coming to recognize as sexual arousal. And my sister, once aroused, was not to be denied. She licked her lips several times and seemed to be making up her mind. Then she stared straight into my eyes.

"I was… I was feeling myself up. Masturbating," she added slowly. "Does that… does that make you horny?"

My God, did it ever! Just hearing her talk like that raised my temperature. My mouth went dry and my tongue swelled up. I could only nod slowly. Alex hesitated and licked her lips again. Then, still keeping strong eye contact, she began moving her hand beneath the covers again.

This wasn't like the casual exposure she had offered me the first time I watched her change her tampon. It wasn't even like watching her from the hall without her knowledge. This was sex. Nonparticipatory, but still sex. I stared back with my jaw hanging loosely and watched her pupils dilate. Finally, I could take no more of the mounting tension. Very carefully, with both hands, I pulled Alex's covers down to her knees. She knew it was going to happen and she didn't flinch.