Michael Smith - Siblings

My sister tumbled over the front seat before I was out of Bill's driveway and had Marianne's red panties off by the time we reached the end of the block. She sniffed the crotch delicately.

"Yep. She's still there! So am I. There's a gift for you, Michael -two girls in one!" She rubbed the satin laughingly beneath my nose.

"Very nice," I agreed. "What do you suppose she'll do with your black ones?"

"She'll probably wash them," Alex replied, stuffing the trophy in her purse. "She's not as kinky as I am," she added with a straight face.

That night, as I was reading in bed, waiting for my hormones to calm down, Alex strolled into my room and stretched out on the bed beside me, clad only in her comfortable old tee-shirt. She propped herself up on one elbow and her foot slid over and stroked my shin. I smiled and kept reading my book.

"Well? How was she?" She sounded a touch impatient.

"What do you mean, 'How was she?' What kind of question is that?" This wasn't like Alex. We told each other everything, but in our own time.

"I mean, what kind of fuck was she?" She traced designs on the quilt with her finger. "Was she- was she better than me?"

I closed my book and looked at my sister in some consternation. This *really* wasn't like her! She always had the self-confidence of a wolverine. And she knew quite well how I felt about her. Moreover, her present mood was inconsistent with her behavior at the drive-in and on the way home. I began to wonder if I should worry.

"Alex, what's the matter?" I covered her hand with mine. "You aren't jealous, are you? Because that would be really stupid. Don't you know yet that*I love you*? More than anything else in the world, Alex, more than myself – I love you. And wasn't it you who decided we weren't seeing other people enough?"

She glanced up and then looked back at the quilt. Her shoulders seemed to hunch. "She*was* better than me, wasn't she? At sex." This was bewildering. I took her face in the palms of my hands and made her look at me.

"Alex," I said softly, staring into her eyes as hard as I could, "she was terrific! And she was a virgin, for all practical purposes. Marianne is sweet, and loving, and passionate, and charming, and she has a really great body, and I really enjoyed-" (I almost said "making love" but changed my mind) "-having sex with her tonight. And NONE of that has ANYTHING to do with you and me. You're my darling, the center of my life, Alex. How could you ever doubt that?

"Marianne is a really nice girl, and I think we're going to be very good friends. So what? You certainly enjoyed your evening with Bill, didn't you? I*know* you did, you came like the San Francisco Earthquake! I think that's great. And I think our coming simultaneously is the sexiest thing you and I have done in a long time. Sex is usually part of love, but love doesn't have to be part of sex. You know that; I*know* you know that. Having sex with Marianne was terrific fun, sure. Having sex with you is*making love*, Alex. I could never be jealous of Bill, because I know you love me." I stroked her cheek and kissed her lightly.

"You hold my heart in your hands, Alexandra." I spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. "Don't ever doubt that. Not ever."

I don't know what brought on that spasm of self-doubt, but I must have become nearly telepathic in my earnestness to make her believe what I was saying. She*had* to believe it, I thought. It was all*true*. And she did believe me because she threw her arms around my neck and pulled me down into a fierce kiss. After a few minutes, she put her cheek against mine and spoke softly into my ear.

"Michael, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to doubt you. You*are* my darling and my love. I*do* know you love me. And I love you so much, so much. God, I love you!"

We finally fell asleep there with her head snuggled up on my shoulder and my arm around her. She slept peacefully, smiling, all doubts erased. And when I awoke too early in the morning, I lay there for half an hour, unwilling to move and disturb her. I wanted only to absorb her beauty and her love, and to reflect on how fortunate I was. How lucky we*both* were, for that matter, each to have found our hearts' desire so early in life.

In July following my junior year in high school, my sister and I reached a new plateau in our physical relationship. I bought or borrowed porno magazines on occasion, from curiosity or for jacking off to, and I knew Alex studied them too. Not that she made a secret of it – we had no secrets – but sometimes I saw her stare at a photo more intensely than usual and then turn the page hurriedly. When she wasn't around, I'd leaf through the magazine and try to identify the picture that had startled even her. I knew about "regular" sex by now, so I usually bought magazines that featured the most perverse or perverted acts I could imagine. And I soon discovered that the most graphically explicit photos were the ones that mesmerized Alex.

That summer, I was on a secondhand anal sex binge. Those photos seemed to arouse me even more than the pictures of oral sex in which I had submerged myself the year before. What I found definitely unappealing, however – in addition to the often bored expressions of the professional models – was the fact that their presumed long experience with anal sex left them with gaping assholes that rivaled their cunts. Not very sexy, I thought.

One afternoon, when Dad had driven Mother over to her sister's house and we had the place to ourselves, Alex came in from playing tennis. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, studying again one of the ass-fucking magazines. The humidity was high and she was running with sweat. Her knit shirt was stuck to her back and even her white socks looked soggy. She clumped into my room, sat down heavily in my desk chair, and blew out her cheeks. Her coppery hair was tied back in a damp ponytail and her freckled face was red from exertion. A definite locker room aroma surrounded her but I found it somehow erotic.

I studied her over the top of my magazine. "Just a guess, sis, but I think you need a shower. A*long* one."

"Boy, do I ever!" She pushed off her shoes without untying the laces and wrinkled her nose. "I smell like the animal tent at the circus." She stood and pulled the shirt over her head; there were also sweat marks on her bra and rivulets running down between her breasts. As she pushed her shorts down and stepped out of them, she saw what I had been reading and grinned.

"Interesting pictures, aren't they? Have you ever done that? Screwed a girl in the ass?" She knew perfectly well I hadn't. For that matter, except for each other, we were both still virgins.

"I wonder what it really feels like…" She unhooked her bra and dropped it with her shorts and socks on the floor. We were so casual now about undressing in front of each other, I was aware of her increasing nudity only peripherally.

"Wanna join me?" I looked up as she pushed down her panties, managing to wiggle twice as much as necessary to get out of them. At sixteen, she was already becoming wise in the ways of seducing a man. But she'd had more practice with a more appreciative audience than most of her girlfriends. Why not? I thought. We were sharing showers pretty regularly, now; it was nice to have someone scrub your back for you and to do it for them. And wet, slippery bodies were fun for other reasons.

"Yeah, okay." I stood and shucked off the jams I usually wore around the house in hot weather. Alex was already headed out the door and I noticed that the sweat coursing down her back was now continuing over the swell of her ass.

When I arrived in the bathroom a few seconds later she was already filling it up with steam. Alex loved very hot showers – she claimed it opened up her pores so she could scrub off the dirt easier. She swung open the door and looked over her shoulder expectantly. I was right behind her and I stood back out of the spray while she rotated under the shower head, arms upstretched, the water ricocheting off her head.