“I know you will,” she said, wiggling her hips. My soft cock still clung to her labia. She pushed her mouth deeper into my ear canal, and lowered her voice. “How about this is just the way it is for us? We can see whoever we want… but you and me… this is just how we love each other.”
“That can’t-” I started.
She shushed me. “You don’t have to fuck me if you don’t want to. Just… if you need to…”
“When does that end?” I said. “When we’re married? When we’re living across the country from each other?”
“Never,” she whispered into my ear. “It’ll be our secret. And it won’t be cheating. Is it cheating when you hug me?”
“No,” I said.
“When you kiss me?”
“Where?”
“This is just how we are,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s how it normally goes,” I said, halfway to sleep.
“Will your wife ever fuck you like I do?”
She might have had a point. A terrible, incestuous point… Monica eased me out of her, and took my face, and drew me up to look her in the eye. She licked her lips. “You want this too,” she said. “I’m just saying what you won’t.”
It would have been the height of condescension to tell her this was just a phase and she’d find someone else – someone not related to her by blood – and someday this would all be a weird memory…
I had come home that afternoon with my bag slung over my shoulder, with stories and weariness to share with my father about grad school. He, my mother and my sister had gathered around the table and eaten dinner together for the first time in ages, and there was no awkwardness anywhere. I told them about Pam, the girl I was seeing, and Monica asked about her like any disinterested sister would. My mother was glad I was finally dating someone again.
That night my dad and I drank beers on the porch and talked about the companies that were open. He’d been in the business for years and I’d already put in several years of my own. I’d be fine. I was on the right track, and in a couple years I knew I’d be designing the buildings I’d always dreamed of.
I retired late that night, book in hand, in bed. The hours crept by and, near midnight, there was a knock at my door. Monica, in nothing provocative (a simple shirt, simple shorts, no makeup), softly smiled and asked if she could sleep on my side of the bed. I laughed, and without thinking, scooted over to let her lie down. I continued to read, and the minutes crept by, and softly I heard her stir.
“It’s too hot in here,” she said. And without turning, her eyes closed, she hooked her thumbs into her shorts and slid them down her shapely ass. And then, her hair falling over her shoulder, she batted her eyes at me. “You want to put it in there?”
I didn’t think. My cock was hard and ready before the book fell out of my hand. She was ready too, and we both hissed as I slid it in.
We kissed like we’d been separated by ages, by uncountable miles, as I fucked her from behind and reached into her shirt to clasp her heavy breasts – the breasts that swayed so hypnotically whenever she didn’t wear a bra. Like tonight. Like at the dinner table. Like when she came so innocently into my room. I pulled her hair. She bit my lip. She grinded against me. I touched her everywhere, and she moaned into my mouth as I came in her. Then she, with a strength I scarcely recognized, forced herself down against me so she could cum with my full length inside of her.
As if we’d saved the foreplay for reverse, I pulled her shirt off and kissed her then, kissed her a hundred times as she wound her naked limbs through mine and collapsed with me on the bed. The two of us, our tongues tangled, giggled softly at each other as we shared the reunion we’d both been waiting for.
But I was seeing someone. Wasn’t I? Didn’t that mean something? Or did it mean nothing next to the jungle lust I stoked for my sister. I woke later in the night to read, and to think about that. And after an hour of thinking and reading Monica turned her eyes up to me, told me not to be mad, and we’d done it all over again.
Now, gazing down at her as she told me her little plan, I didn’t know what to think.
“My love for you is complicated,” I said.
“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered. “But I know a good thing when I fuck it.”
“You do fuck it very well.”
She gave a chivalrous little nod. Then she coughed, and said quietly, “I slept in here a few times, after you left…”
“I missed you, too.”
“Good.”
I looked at the clock. It was no longer the wee morning hours. It was almost the normal morning hours. Almost time to go back to the world where we were just brother and sister. No benefits.
“I just don’t want us to pretend this never happened,” she said. “Don’t do that thing where you take the moral high ground. That’s bullshit.” She gave me her best little sister glare, so I shut up. “I just want us to agree this is part of who we are.”
“For better or worse,” I intoned.
“I’m not asking for more than that,” she said.
“So, if I’ve got this straight, we’ll try to live normal, productive lives as normal, productive siblings… who occasionally sleep together.”
“Not so much sleeping,” she amended.
“Who occasionally rut like stoats.”
“Sure,” she said. “There’s no way that can go wrong.”
Well, I probably don’t have to tell you this, but it went wrong all over the place.