Michael Smith: Siblings

"Oh, God,… I don't believe it." She was gasping for breath and seemed on the verge of fainting. "I came,… I actually came,… incredible feeling,… I feel… so full,… like… like your cock… is ten times bigger."

I began to ease myself out of her but she immediately fumbled behind her, trying to grab my body. "No! – Not yet! – Don't leave yet…"

My own body was trembling and I wasn't sure how well I could support even her weight. One careful step at a time, I turned around where I stood. One slip and someone could break something, and it might be my cock. The water now beating against Connie's body seemed to revive her, and she raised one hand to cover her face. I backed up and braced myself against the wall.

"Connie? I have to sit down before I fall down. If we're careful, you can sit in my lap and I'll stay in you. Okay? Bend as I bend."

I anchored my heels on the nonskid strips in the floor of the shower and lowered myself to a sitting position, trying to keep my pelvis pushed forward so as not to lose possession of Connie. She kept her ass pressed back against my crotch and her palms braced against the shower walls.

We made it almost all the way down, but the last couple of inches I was overbalanced. My ass landed with a thump and my knees splayed out; I was lucky not to crack my tailbone. Connie had unavoidably let half the length of my still hard cock escape from her. When I landed, so did she, and my penis plunged back into her with real force. She let out a little cry of pain, but then stroked my thighs as she caught her breath, to let me know she was okay.

I scooted my lower body forward a little and Connie pressed herself down even farther. She sank her fingers in the sides of my thighs as she moaned.

"Michael,… help me turn around. You'll have to turn my hips around so I don't lose you…"

I rotated her body slowly and carefully on my cock and she lifted one leg almost vertically to get it past my chest. I bent my knees so she could lean back against them, and she lifted her own legs with a hand behind each knee. Her legs were spread as far up and apart as it was possible to do, even for a gymnastic body like hers. But to my amazement, her weight added almost another inch of penetration. The union between us was so tight, strands of my pubic hair were tucked up into her rectum. She smiled, a little shakily.

"I had no idea," she said huskily. "I never came like that before, without a guy in my pussy or eating me, or without bringing myself off. I love having you in me like this! I'll be sore for days and I don't know when I can do this again, but I don't care. It felt so fantastically different… I'm going to find a long vibrator, not so big around, and have a*lot* of fun. Oh, Michael, you're so beautiful! This'll sound strange, but you've given me a gift, a discovery. I'll never forget the last twelve hours – never!"

Connie was back in her tan suit, looking businesslike and professional and academic, but still sexy and sensual… or maybe that was just my recent memories. Just before we left the room with our bags, she leaned against me and pulled my head down, and we shared a lengthy, soft, gentle kiss. Not passion this time, exactly, but affection. And maybe a little love. Then she hugged me tightly around the neck and spoke quietly into my ear.

"Michael, you are something else. And so am I. You fucked me and I fucked you more times last night, and in more different ways, than I've ever managed in any 24-hour period. God, you're good for me!" She squeezed me again and there was a choke in her voice. "You're good for me in other ways besides sex, too."

I squeezed her back. Even though I was going home to Alex, I knew I would also miss this fantastic woman. "Connie, you don't know how good you are for me, too. I told you I loved Alex, and I meant it, absolutely

… but if she weren't there I'd be madly in love with you by now. You're beautiful, sexy, smart, athletic, you have a personality that any guy would fall for… Did I mention 'sexy'? I don't know why you aren't married. I know it's none of my business, but I sure don't understand it."

Her voice softened even more, her lips brushing my ear. "Remember, I said I had two relationships that ended badly? I've been proposed to twice, Michael, and I said 'No' both times. That's why they ended. I was in love both times, too. The first guy was really terrific but I turned him down because I was afraid of the commitment. Maybe that was a mistake, but I'll never know. Because if I ever marry someone, it will be permanent and I'll be absolutely faithful. I couldn't do it any other way.

"Then, when I fell in love the second time, I proved I was right not to say 'Yes' the first time. See what I mean? I like men too much and I'd probably fall in love once a week if I let myself. Hell, Michael, I'm half in love with you right now, too! How could I give up an experience like last night? I wouldn't run around on the man I married – but what if we got bored with each other? What if the sex got to be too ordinary? I'm afraid to take the chance! I'm afraid of myself, I guess."

I could feel the tears and the fluttering of her eyelashes against my ear. I stroked the small of her back and her hair and held her close for a few silent minutes. How could someone this wonderful be afraid of anything? I almost felt like crying with her, or for her.

But there was a bond between us now, I had no doubt of that. I also felt certain we'd be seeing each other again.

Alex and I stood at the big window by Gate 29A and watched as the brightly painted Aloha Airlines jet was hauled the last few yards up to the telescoping walkway. I was nervous and it showed. My sister found this amusing; she kept patting me on the shoulder and cooing such constructive advice as "It's okay, Michael, it won't be long now…" I might have found her playful condescension annoying except that I recognized my own silliness. We were only meeting Connie Liang's plane, after all.

Fourteen months it had been since my brief, serendipitous affair in San Diego with that tiny beauty and I hadn't actually seen her in all that time, though she sent me snapshots regularly. Connie and I had kept in touch, just as we had said we would.

I had always been a lousy correspondent before this. I preferred to simply pick up a phone and talk with someone in real-time. Telephone rates California-to-Hawaii made that economically unfeasible, so I learned to write letters.

Connie's letters to me arrived every three or four weeks – usually with extra postage because of their bulk. A single letter might sprawl across several kinds of note paper and lined tablets, in several colors of ink: She was writing whenever and wherever she had something she wanted to say to me, which I took as a compliment. And she communicated as beautifully, and as idiosyncratically, on paper as she had in person, going on at length about anything in which she had an interest.

I heard her opinions on Hawaiian politics, the best way to build a sand castle, the personalities of the people she worked with in her new job with the Museum of the Pacific in Honolulu, and why I absolutely*must* read a certain book or see a certain movie. And I heard her thoughtful ruminations about life and the people in it, including me.

I also heard about her sex life in some detail… partly, I believed, because she knew it would turn me on. As she had told me in San Diego, her enjoyment of sex was moderate in quantity but always enthusiastic in quality.

Letters like that seem to demand that the recipient hold up his end of the exchange, so I learned. My first discovery was that my high school experience in journalism didn't help much. My first few attempts at literate replies were pitiful reactions to things she had said, but soon I was initiating discussions and venturing my own opinions. And I began following her example by jotting a few paragraphs at odd moments on a note pad I carried around in my briefcase. The thickness of my letters to Connie began to rival hers.