Are These Things Planned Somehow? Ch. 01

These thoughts have little time to linger. She turns onto her back, eyes now open, meeting mine as I face her lying on my side. Her breasts, so perfect for her body, have flattened out a little. The nipples a light pink, much larger than I would have imagined, knobby and hard, protruding from fairly small areola. She catches my male gaze.

"Too much?" she asks as she covers each breast with the palms of her hands. "I guess I'm giving you a real show. Sorry about that."

I wish I had a witty repost. It's just that I don't know how to answer some of these questions from her. She seems somewhat quicker than me nowadays.

"You're staring at them," she says.

What can one expect when your sister is topless and lying less than a foot from you. And so I say what any guy my age would be thinking.

"Your nipples are so thick." I say in a croaky voice

She looks down at them pensively.

"Is that it? You get a private, free show and this is the best I'm going to get from you - my nipples are thick?" She laughs a little, her breasts wobbling a little, it's probably at the situation. Mostly at the bumbling mouth of her now feeling socially inept brother.

"Oh, they get bigger than this," she says, suddenly turning half-serious. She presses down on the areola of one breast with her index and middle finger. Holds it down and with the other hand uses her thumb and index finger to pull the nipple out. Does it again with the other nipple. And I am close enough to make out the few bumps and tiny cracks on her nipples.

"See," she says. "I've always thought they were too big."

I summon some courage.

"No they're not. Sit up for a moment. Will you?"

I'm surprised that she acquiesces. She sits cross-legged, facing me. Her breasts fill out, sagging slightly from their weight and gravity. Her nipples seem even more pronounced now.

I can hardly see her face through her hair, matted tendrils everywhere falling in her eyes. Bringing her hands up she cups each pert breast pushing them up. She leans down toward me just slightly. Holds them out to me for a better look.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" she asks, looking down at them again, caressing the underside of her breasts like I know she's done a thousand times. I'm now wishing they were my hands.

"That's them in all their glory." she says, moving her hands to brush her hair back behind her ears. "Sometimes I think my nipples are to big, makes it so difficult to go braless."

I know from the way she is now fondling her breasts that she likes them a lot. Hell, I like them a lot too at that moment.

I just look, well stare and admire them, taking in every little detail I can. Wanting to burn this image permanently into my memory.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

"About how lucky any man would be to be with you and have those to play with. I never really knew how they would look naked to be honest."

She lies down on her back, head on her pillow, folds her arms behind her head. Her breasts flattening out slightly once again. This time she makes no move to cover them up. She's inviting me to look. This shy girl, who never once entered my mind as a woman, has transformed before my eyes. Her nipples are still rigid and tight. "Can the way I show my breasts make me look like a bimbo more than an intelligent woman?" she asks quietly.

It's best for me to remain silent on this. I'd only say the wrong thing as my brain's still in letch mode.

"Oh, they are nice to have and I like them a hell of a lot," she says. "But, you know, people, well mostly men, notice them more than they notice me sometimes, which I'm getting used to now. It made me cross to begin with though."

Does this mean she is unhappy?

She continues "You've never seemed to be like that, maybe I feel even closer to you now that we're both grown adults. You've always been the confident one and I look up to you more than you probably know."

She moves her arms down and starts to smooth her stomach with her hands as she talks to me, alternately rubbing, then lightly caressing, first right around her navel. Then lower. All of this done instinctively. Her fingers trailing down to the top of her knickers, lazily letting two fingers slip just under the waistband. She presses her skin down a little, rubbing lightly, stroking herself a little, all the while she is talking about her body to me, which I'm only half listening to. Suddenly, she realises what she is doing. She stops. Pulls her fingers back out. We are both aware what she was about to do. I can now picture her doing this absent-mindedly on mornings alone in her bed at home. I'm curious. Does she masturbate as much as I do? She must do I thought.

And then she startles me out of my thoughts.

"You're hard, Alex. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is that your basic morning wood as it's known?"

My erection is running down my left leg, pushing the cotton material outward, trying to get free. And a wet spot on my boxers where I have been leaking. An erection that feels harder than all my previous erections, and she has been watching it getting harder by degrees the entire time.

"I'm not sure whether it's morning wood as you put it, or just looking at your body and especially your nipples." I say seriously.

"You're being sarcastic. I can tell," she says.

"No. I'm not." I retort forcefully.

"My nipples are too big, my hair's got sea salt and sand in it , my skin is too pale. Sure I'm not bad for 18 well nearly 19, but I can't compare to some of those girls you've brought home to mum and dad."

"You're just in denial," I tell her. "You know you've got it really. Look what you've done to me?" I say pointing at my mid-rift.

She swings her feet to the floor and heads to the shower, pretending not to have heard what I just said. Why is she comparing herself to the girls I brought home? I've never compared them to her, but perhaps, with what I know now, that's what I should have done.

* * *

I'm in the kitchen when she comes out of the shower. She stops in the doorway. Still in panties, fresh light green ones, and has a fresh tee shirt that she has half slipped on her arms. Before she begins lowering it down over her head, she hesitates.

"On or off? What do you think, Alex?"

"Off. Definitely off," I tell her. With absolutely no emotion, she tosses the tee shirt onto the bed behind her.

I fry locally bought sausage and eggs for breakfast, which is always what we have the first morning after we arrive, then we sit across from each other at the ridiculously small kitchen table. How did we fit four around it before. Her naked breasts jiggle a little as she butters some toast. Though she is fair skinned, her breasts are even whiter, almost like the floor marble you get in hotels. Nipples still hard, pointed and staring at me. I can't keep my eyes off them. Can't help but think they are calling out to me. But that's just the teenager still lurking somewhere in the red blooded male that is me. Under the table I have a painful hard on in my shorts that thankfully is out of site.

She sees me staring. Seems not to mind. Looks down at herself. "They're stiff again, I see. What can I say? I'm not great, but I really like my body being looked at."

We have a jar of chocolaty hazelnut cream on the table, a passion of hers that I bought on the way here. Instead of using a knife to spread some on her toast, she dips a finger into the jar, pulls out a dab of chocolate. She holds her finger up for me to see. Then spreads it around her nipples, ever so slowly making sure the whole areola is covered and also knowing that I'm frozen in amazement. Brown chocolate covering up her pink nipples and areola. First the left breast. Then another dab for the right. She arches her back to me, holds out each breast with her hands. Strikes a sultry runway model's look of boredom.

"You think Playboy magazine would want me on its cover like this?"

Now that's more the kind of humour I've grown up with. Her pose is also poking fun at me for my stash of girlie magazines she found years ago when I still lived at home. She was rooting through a draw for my calculator, so she said.

With her long, slender index finger, she gathers chocolate from her nipple, holds it up to her mouth, sucks it slowly off her finger. I watch, transfixed.

She does the same with her other breast, but this time holds her chocolate-covered finger out to me, right in front of my mouth.

"Try some. You might like it." Her smile is slight, but noticeable. She is teasing me. Daring me.

I lick it off, then suck her finger until all is gone. This is my sister doing this. What am I supposed to read into this? Am I supposed to do something in return?

* * *

Today we decide to stay at our own beach for the morning at least, lounging in the sun, riding waves on inflatable's, reading trashy magazines left in the cottage, taking a long walk along the shoreline to a fishing pier where we buy lunch to take back to the cottage. We meander back and sit inside with the ceiling fans humming above us, windows also open, a nice breeze coming in. Cold refreshing carbonated drinks in our hands.

"What fun this is," she says.

"You probably don't know Alex, but this trip for me is mostly just to remain connected to you. I know the day is coming when you're marry one of those girlfriends of yours. Today, I feel so close now, especially on this trip. I don't want that to end. And I know it will have to."

"How could it possibly end," I tell her. "Don't you remember our pact?" I hold up my closed fist, extend my little finger out, and she breaks into a smile. She does the same, and we lock fingers. "Let's say it together," she tells me.

Let's swear

Each with our little finger

We'll be the best of friends

Until we are old and wrinkly!

"That seems so long ago," she says. "I just loved those times." A momentary seriousness in her eyes, now a little watery. For the first time since we arrived, she seems a little more on edge.

We go for a post lunch walk, stay at our beach again. She cheers up, laughing, clasping my hand and holding it, both of us weaving in and out among families, children and lovers running back and forth on the darker wet sand at the edge of the surf. Warm water washes over our toes as we go. Sandpipers cross our paths, back and forth, making tiny footprints in the sand.

Finally, back at our umbrella and beach chairs we put out earlier, my sister leans in and kisses me briefly on the lips. She seems to grows solemn. Her eyes watery once again."No matter what happens," she says, "You will always be my true love. My one true love." She bends over to lay a beach towel atop the back of her chair. As she raises up, I come up behind. Reach my arm around her waist and hold her to me for a second, her back against my stomach and chest. Then kiss the side of her neck.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asks, looking a little surprised at my sudden display of affection.

"It's just that I've realised I like being with you again," I tell her. "And I especially like it when you tell me things about yourself that I didn't know."

And it's true. Though I'm afraid of where we might be headed, I long to peel back the layers and learn more of my sister's inner thoughts. She has become so much more interesting.

I scoot my chair closer to hers so the arm rests are touching. We go back to reading. She looks up to give me a contented smile.

"You've always known more about me than anyone else does, really you do." she says.

* * *

We get in from the beach late in the afternoon. Sand in our swimsuits and hair again, skin baked and reddish. Both of us done in by the sun. Walking into the bedroom, I see my sister has already stripped her suit down to her waist. And there, once again, are those breasts. I wonder will I ever get used to seeing them. She rubs them as she's done hundreds of times, massages her nipples, flicks them with her thumbs after freeing them from the constraints of her swimsuit. They must itch. I realise I love watching her touch herself. And she's allowing me to look. But I make another observation, as toned and fit as she is, her breasts look tender, delicate, vulnerable somehow. I find myself wanting to protect her and her sexuality from the rest of the world. A part of me wants her for myself. And part of me is also sickened at these thoughts of mine.

"I'm sorry I've been so emotional on you this afternoon, Alex," she says, taking a step toward me. "I'm not usually this way. It's just that I like being close to you. I can fake being comfortable with anyone. I'm good at that like mum is. But with you here, now, I really am contented. At rest with myself. When we're together, I have this sense of being restored. I feel some kind of energy, a new me."

She steps closer and puts her arms loosely around my neck, gives me a quick peck on the lips. For the first time, I feel those soft breasts and stiff nipples brushing lightly against me, her nipples teasing the hair on my chest. Before I can reach my arms around her, she backs away.

"But I don't want to get pathetically sentimental about this," she says."We're here to have fun."

Her gaze drops from me down to her breasts.

"So what do you think, Alex? Is it time to just go stark naked?"

"You mean everything off stark naked?"

"Is that too much for you?"

She heads for the shower. I walk around the cottage, not sure what to do.

So, I'm thinking to myself, did we agree to that? We're going to be naked. But when is this supposed to start? We didn't set a time. Is it tonight, maybe at 6 pm? Or maybe tomorrow morning? I think back to this image of her large naked breasts swinging softly back and forth as she stepped in to kiss me. I know that's another moment that will be with me from now on. Whatever happened to that shy sister I once knew... it's like there's a plan she has, every detail calculated... more like my mother in a way. She was the one who always planned these holidays down to the last minute.

Those thoughts end as she comes out of the bedroom. It is to start now as she is naked. I can't stop staring. She stands looking at me, or maybe just letting me look at her. And for the first time, I take advantage of it. Her stomach nearly flat, mostly from healthy eating. The V where her legs meet her torso clean and hairless. But I know better. At least I think I do. I'm not sure of anything about her now. But that smoothness is so natural looking, inviting even. The narrow slit, the opening to her vagina, is clearly visible. The outer lips look soft and slightly puffy. All of it a quiet, dignified young beauty.

I catch her look, eyebrows raised.

"Your turn Alex. Put your suit in the sink with mine. We can wash the sand out later."

And so, with a flushed face and obvious embarrassment, I pull mine down and toss it next to hers. Why am I embarrassed? I'm the confident one normally.

She stands - each of us in front of the other - observing me, staring openly. I see her eyes move down my chest to my abs. Then lower. She is looking at the precise moment that I feel blood beginning to rush into my penis. My dick begins getting hard. She watches it swell in thickness, begin rising, grow longer, start bouncing up and down.

After regarding me for a moment, she says, "You have no shortage of erections from staring at me, don't you?"

"I can't will it to go away," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughs. "It looks good that way." She begins straightening up the place. I take my cue and proceed to clean the kitchen from the breakfast dishes. As if we do this all the time.

I must admit, after a short while I find I like being naked with my sister. Walking around the place, parading for each other, stealing secret glances. That's what we are doing. My erection goes down. She looks at it some more. Moments later, she bends over to pick up something off the floor in the kitchen. So nimble that she can bend over with her knees still locked, her legs straight. I am in the living room, looking at her from behind. At the top of her legs, I see her beautiful ass cheeks that jiggle a little as she walks. And before me is her dark little asshole. And those soft little labia, just barely protruding from below. She waits a few seconds before straightening back up. That was on purpose. It had to be. That vision of her and seeing her boobs begins making me hard again.

We carry on. My erection, weaving all about in the air, thrusting forward, right at her. I like that. My balls swaying slightly. Her watchful eye taking it all in. After all, I'm 21, my body at its peak of physical conditioning. I don't look half bad.

We're flirting with danger, here. And I know now that I might not be able to stop. But I don't want to think about that.

* * *

Evening and another storm arrives. Dark clouds, steady rain. We're out on the covered deck, both naked still. We don't believe anyone can see us, but we're not sure. My sister drags one of the chairs around so we can be facing each other. We sit, talk, listen to the rain & thunder in the distance, watch the deserted beach. A kind of peacefulness settling over us.

She watches me. I watch her. Each taking in the other's body. I just can't stop looking. At both her beauty and the full nakedness of her.

I break the silence. "Isn't it odd, Sarah, that two people like you and I can be so close, siblings, act like friends for all these years. Yet until now we've never seen each other naked for quite a few years- at least not since you were younger. Isn't it peculiar. It's so nice to have this together, don't you think?"

"Especially when one has a brother like you," she says.

She casually lowers her eyes, back to my growing erection.

"You like sex, don't you, Sarah," I say. "I mean all girls like sex I guess. But your behaviour here is of a girl who really adores it. All aspects of it perhaps."

"Maybe," she tells me. Suddenly the shyness is back.

"I like sex a lot too," I say. "The addictiveness of it. How it's passive and unhurried sometimes. Fast and feverish at other moments. So beautiful. But also naughty. I love the whole naughtiness about it."

"I take sex seriously," I continue to say. "I think you may do too. If that is the case, then can I ask you a personal question?"

"I think that's another one of those bridges we've crossed already," she says.

"If you like sex so much, why have you never talked to me about it until now. Or have you turned to other confidents?"

"I've only just found myself Alex," she says. "As for other confidents - nope. Haven't confided in any."

She sees my puzzled look.

"You want to know what I do? I read racy stories online, go into chat rooms. I daydream. Everyone should daydream. And as for orgasms, no one knows how to give them to me better than I do myself. That again is only between you and me Alex" she's blushing more by the second.

"I wouldn't think that would be enough for you, though I'd love to see you masturbating" I tell her, wishing my brain would keep my mouth in check!

She doesn't answer. Lets the awkwardness of the moment pass. Then surprises me yet again.

My sister raises her right leg to put her foot on the edge of her chair seat, parting her legs, looking down at herself. And affording me the perfect view of the opening to her vagina. I can even see a little pink. She is, once again, inviting me to look.

My desire escalates. If I were to just lightly touch the head of my cock, I think I would explode all over her. I can't calm down.

"Aren't penises and pussies just strange and wonderful," she says in a deep, hushed voice, looking at her own slit, then back at my dick. "So astonishing."

"I'm just astonished to hear you say the word pussy." I reply.

She laughs, but not long. I grow harder, and feel like I may lose control.