Charlie and Mindy Bk. 02 Ch. 01

She'd been sleeping on her right side, facing away from the door, and I'd gotten into the bed behind her. My cock, stiff in anticipation, found its usual place between her thighs and against her cloth-covered pussy. She was wearing a t-shirt and panties; no uncultured hussy, she. As my hand found her tit and cupped it, she began to wake.

Her hand found mine and clasped it more tightly to her firm little titty. I squeezed it gently and rolled her nipple between my thumb and the base of my index finger. Not yet fully awake, she moaned, made a little lip-smacking sound, and wiggled herself back against me more tightly. I kissed the back of her neck, and moved up to nibble on her ear lobe.

She moaned as her other hand reached back to stroke my side.

"That gives me goose bumps." She'd muttered it, somewhat fuzzily, as she shivered a little. Her ass wiggled against my boner, and her buttocks clenched around it. Her hand left my side and went down between her thighs, where it found and caressed my cock.

"Mmmm. My big brother's dick! What a nice thing to find between my thighs when I wake up." She was awake, now—sort of.

I kissed her neck again, continued rolling her nipple with my thumb as I cupped her tit. She continued to caress my cock, holding it tightly against her furrow.

We lay there, enjoying each other's touch for a while.

"I've got to pee," she said, as she rolled away from me. "Don't go away."

I had no intention of going away—as she well knew. I lay there waiting for a couple of minutes. Her feet pattered softly as she came back into the room behind me.

"Good morning, Big Brother," she said as she got back into bed where she'd awakened—but facing me this time, and naked, now, herself. Her eyes were still full of sleep, and her hair was in disarray. I thought she had never looked more beautiful.

As I took her into my arms, she reached down and pushed my boner down between her thighs and released it so that its length rested in her cleft. She put an arm around me and folded her other arm between us. We pulled each other closer and enjoyed the day's first deep kiss—our hips gently rocking against each other. I felt her grow hotter, moister, slicker against my cock.

We broke the kiss and looked at each other. Her sleepy eyes were wonderfully blue.

"I love to feel my little sister's naked pussy against my boner," I said. "It really turns me on."

She wiggled her mound against me. "I'd never have guessed," she said with her impish smile. "And what about these?" she asked as she wiggled her shoulders, causing her wonderful little titties to rub against my chest.

"Those, too," I said as I dove in for another deep kiss.

It didn't last long; the feeling of her hot, wet, slippery cleft against my cock was too tempting. I reached down and stroked her clit for a minute or two. Her hips rocked against my hand in response.

"Let's," I suggested.

She giggled. "Men! And their one-track minds."

I kissed her again, rolled her over onto her back, and got to my knees beside her.

"Will you put it in my ass, Charlie?" she asked. "I want to feel you there this time."

As she spoke, she'd rolled clear over onto her right side and reached into the drawer of the nightstand that stood beside her bed. She brought out a tube of KY Jelly. At the time, this was entirely new to me; I didn't know anything about KY Jelly.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Lubricant, dopey. It's slipperier than Vaseline. And it's water-based, so it's easier to wash off." She smiled sleepily at me, looking very much like the legendary cat who'd just eaten the canary.

"Where'd it come from?" I was determined to be a moron, I guess. Maybe some of the blood that usually circulates to my brain was now maintaining my boner.

"I got it at the drugstore yesterday. It was in the sack of 'girl stuff' I wouldn't let you look at. I wanted to surprise you." Her impish smile was still apparent.

"Uhhh," I said, with my usual flair for brilliant repartee, "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

The impish smile morphed into the evil grin.

"Only since…oh…Friday evening, when we put it in my ass for the first time. And there's a towel on the bed behind you that we can use to keep from making a mess of the sheet.

"Do you think we can get it in me from the front? I want to be able to see you and touch you while we do it."

The thought of doing her ass again was turning me on even more than her pussy and her tits had. I'd liked doing that last Friday; it seemed as though she'd liked it, too.

"I sure hope so, because I'd like that, too."

"Here," she said, handing the tube to me. "I've already broken the factory seal. Put some on me and some on you, and let's try it. But first…"

The "first…," it turned out, involved her sitting up, throwing her arms around me, and kissing me deeply and thoroughly. Her firm bare little tits brushed enticingly against my own bare chest, reminding me yet again of her femininity—just in case I'd forgotten the feel of her pussy against my cock. I approved.

She released me, grabbed the towel she'd sneaked into the room after her trip to the bathroom, and lay down on her back with it under her hips and thighs. She brought her thighs up, until they were perpendicular to her body, rotated outward until her knees were nearly on the bed. That gave me the most amazing view of her treasures. There, in full view, was her mound—darker than the creamy white flesh that surrounded it, and cleft by the furrow I loved to slide my cock along. Her inner lips, now engorged, protruded a bit, and her clitoris was just visible below the little dimple at the head of her furrow. And, a little below that cleft was the wrinkled little brown star of her rear orifice—the target of the morning.

I stared, entranced, for about 20 seconds.

"I'm glad you like to look at me, but don't you want to touch, too?" she said with a grin. "And…Do It?"

"Uhhh. Yeah," I replied. The view had diverted more blood from my brain, I guess.

I opened the tube and applied a good fingertip-full of the stuff to her rear opening. She was right; it was very slippery.

She moaned a happy little "Mmmmm" at my touch.

I spread more jelly on the head and the shaft of my cock, wiped my fingers on the towel she was lying on, and positioned myself over her. As I did so, she pulled her lower half up—raising her hips up off of the bed. I guided the slippery tip of my cock toward the opening between her buttocks.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

She was still smiling at me. "I'm ready. Be gentle at first."

My crown was now up against her, seeking the tight little entrance. It slid around a little, before it found what it was after. Slowly, I brought pressure to bear. There was some initial resistance, as there had been the first time we had done this, but now I knew what to expect. I kept on increasing the pressure until her sphincter relaxed and the head of my cock slipped into her—much more easily than the other time we'd done this. As before, the grip of her sphincter just below the head of my cock almost sent me into orbit. I wanted to feel that tight band sliding up and down my shaft again. She moaned. I stopped pushing and looked up at her face; her eyes were closed and she was smiling.

"Ooooohh! There's that telephone pole again. It feels good this time. Don't stop. I want you all the way in me. But go slow."

I wanted me all the way in her, too. I looked back down at where our bodies were joined. I took my hand from where it had supported my cock as I had entered her and moved it to stroke the inside of her thigh. I could see how she had expanded to admit my cock. Above that lay one of my favorite sights. My little sister's outer lips were spread wide, giving me a view of her clitoris, her inner lips—now partially separated, and, between those inner lips, her vaginal entrance. I admired the view and, pushing gently, I slowly buried the full length of Big Brother's boner in Little Sister. We were moaning, now.

When my cock was completely engulfed and our bodies were up against each other, I looked up at her face again. As I did, she opened her eyes and looked at me. She was still smiling.

"God, Charlie. Your cock feels so big and so good in my ass. I think I like it better this way than the last time we put it there. Now I can look at you."

"I like it, too," I said. "Now I can do this."

My hand went to her pussy; my index finger found her clit and began gently stroking it. She closed her eyes and moaned. Her hips began to rock, gently and slowly.

"You can start moving now, Big Brother," she said.

I'd been thinking of that myself, and, slowly, I pulled my cock most of the way out. When I felt the tight ring of her sphincter at the base of my crown, I reversed and pushed back in until I was deeply re-embedded. Then I did it again. And again—continuing, as I did, to stroke her clit.

Eyes still closed, she let her lower legs extend over my shoulders. Her hands came up to clasp my neck and pull me down closer to her. Her hips continued to rock—not much, because of our positions, but enough to tell me that she wanted me to move faster in her. Feeling the need for more speed and friction myself, I responded accordingly.

We grunted and moaned, both out of control now. Had anyone been in the house—anywhere in the house—they'd have heard us for sure. We bounced on the bed as I thrust my cock into her again, again, again. She returned my thrusts as best she could, all thought of "slow and gentle" completely out of our minds. Even my finger was no longer stroking gently, but rubbing furiously.

And so we rode each other off the cliff.

"Oooohh! Shit! I'm coming! I'm coming! Charlie! I'm coming!" she yelled at me.

Meanwhile, I was shouting "Mindy! I'm there! I'm going to come in you!"

With one last thrust, I buried myself deep inside her. She clamped rhythmically around the base of my cock as I exploded. Again, again, again, I pumped my thick white semen deep into her body. I thrashed, writhed, moaned above her while she thrashed, writhed, moaned under me. And, yet again, I experienced that transcendent final paroxysm signaling the end of my orgasm.

Once again, I collapsed onto her, vaguely remembering that I should keep my elbows under me. Somehow, as I went limp, she managed to slide her legs off of my shoulders, keeping me from folding her into a flat little package under me. But my arms kept her from straightening herself all the way out.

We moaned softly to each other as we lay there not quite unmoving, each shuddering every now and then. Her arms, still around my neck, held me tightly. Eventually, she spoke.

"That was really, really good. I love having you in my ass."

"I like it too. It feels different from your pussy."

I raised my head and looked at her. She smiled at me; I smiled back. I kissed her, and she returned the kiss.

"I'm kind of all bent up here," she said when we finished the kiss. "I'd like to straighten out."

I pulled out of her and raised myself to my knees. She lowered her legs, but left me a good view. "I think we'd better head for the shower," I remarked as we got off of the bed.

She got off the bed, too.

"Tradition," she said, with a serious air, "demands a cold shower."

She was referring to the cold mountain water we'd washed with after the first time we'd done this.

I reacted without thinking.

"Bullshit! Once doesn't make a tradition."

I loathed cold water, and she knew it.

She was grinning at me, and I realized that she'd been pulling my leg. I swatted her tight little ass as it wiggled past me on its way to the bathroom.

"Oww! I'll get you for that, you big bully!"

"Then I'd better get a few more in," I said, turning to chase her. She scampered out the door of her room. In my haste, I stumbled over the pile of her shoes, which I'd forgotten, and slammed into a doorpost.

I'd caught myself with my hands, so in spite of the crash, the only injury I got was to my self-esteem. The hoot of derision she gave upon hearing the crash didn't help. But I was after her without much delay.

I did get one more swat in, which caused a shriek. But her arms went around me, and other parts of her trim, naked little body distracted me. Eventually, we broke from the kiss that resulted.

"I call a foul! Illegal use of feminine wiles to avoid just desserts," I said, as I dove in for another kiss.

"Mmmmm," was the reply, suitably postponed. "But we'd better get that shower. And let's not forget to wash that towel and put it back in the closet before anybody gets home this evening."

"Good thing," I said, "that at least one of us has a practical mind."

So we adjusted the water temperature to the usual compromise—somewhat too warm for me and somewhat too cool for her—and got in. Naturally, we engaged in the usual fooling around that prolonged the shower beyond anything half reasonable. And then, as I was moving into the shower stream, eyes closed, to rinse soap off of my face, she struck. She swatted me on the ass—hard—and jumped out of the shower.

I whooped and blinked—getting stinging soap into my eyes. Seconds later, I shrieked as the shower stream turned icily cold. She'd turned off the hot water as she departed!

I heard the bathroom door open as she completed her escape. There was still soap on my face and in my eyes, and I had to stand there in the frigid stream, miserable, suffering, until I could get the soap out of my eyes and off of my face. She'd outsmarted me!

"That was a base and cowardly sneak attack!" I shouted. "Of course you know that this means war!"

That last line was straight out of the Bugs Bunny cartoons we'd loved as children, loved then as almost-grownups, and still love today. We'd used it often with each other, and it was the only step I could take toward vengeance until I'd dealt with the soap in my eyes. A distant giggle was the only answer I got; it could have come from almost any part of the house.

By the time I got out of the shower, she had a good head start. I turned off the water, grabbed my towel, and ran to the bathroom door, drying myself as I went. I looked up and down the hallway; of course she was gone. Her bedroom door was still open, but I didn't think she had gone that way; she would have expected me to look there first.

I went to my own room, and checked it quickly. She wasn't there. I dropped my towel on the floor and headed for the master bedroom, to check in there. But I happened to look down at the floor, and I saw that she hadn't been as smart as she'd thought she'd been. She'd been naked and dripping wet when she'd skedaddled, and there, on the wood floor, her wet footprints led to the staircase. Stealthily, I went to the head of the stairs, peeked around the corner and down. The trail of water droplets went directly down the stairs, across the shiny wood floor, and into the closet on the left side of the front hall; the closet door was closed.

Now, I figured, she was in a trap of her own making. With the door to her hiding place closed, she couldn't see me coming. Silently, I tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding all of the squeakers—which I'd studied and learned in order to avoid being busted for breaking curfew during my misspent youth as a high school senior. After reaching the bottom, I tiptoed down the hall to the closet door. Once there, I turned to my left and reached out. I grabbed the doorknob, and the jaws of the trap closed with a snap!

The snap was completely unexpected and perfectly executed. But it was with the towel that she'd taken from the rack in the bathroom and used to dry herself after she'd made the sucker-bait tracks I'd been following. Now weighted with moisture, it caught me on the naked right cheek of my ass.

I howled at the shock and the searing pain. Not to mention the humiliation of having been outsmarted yet again. She'd been hiding, not in the closet at all, but around the corner in the living room, which opened into the hall right across from the closet.

She was armed and dangerous: She still had the towel—which she'd proved she knew how to use and was rewinding for another snap. This time, though, she'd overplayed her hand. She'd stepped out of the living room and to her right for that second sneak attack—putting herself in the corner where the wall between the living room and the hall joined the front outside wall of the house. I took two quick steps toward her, and that put me close enough to nullify her weapon and to corner her at the same time.

She grinned at me, evilly. "Now what, you big dope!"

I grinned back at her. "Now, after that second cowardly sneak attack, the Forces of Truth and Justice Shall Prevail."

"Says you! I'm going to fix you good—really good!"

"Just try it, little girl," I responded—hoping that the deadly insult would make her careless.

"I am not little!" she fumed.

As she spoke, she feinted to my left, tossed the towel at my face, and tried to sneak around me to my right. Unsuccessfully. I ducked the towel and snaked my right arm around her waist as she tried to pass. I really did have her now.

"Now we'll see who the dope is," I said as menacingly as I knew how.

Her back was toward me as I clamped her to my side. But I was grinning. So was she. She was also wiggling, thrashing, and flailing in an effort to escape. Her firm, warm, naked little body felt wonderful struggling against my own naked body.

I stepped back to the closet, dragging her with me. I opened the door, and there was Dad's trench coat—right where he always kept it. The belt hung from a single loop at the waist of the coat. With my free hand, I pulled the belt free and threw it over my shoulder. I grabbed her left wrist, released her waist, and grabbed her right wrist in my other hand. I'd acted quickly enough that she'd had no clue what I'd intended—and now it was too late for her to do anything about it, other than keep wiggling and thrashing. And snorting, yelling, and screaming.

I ignored her resistance and her pleas for mercy as I pulled her arms behind her so that her wrists crossed. Holding her little wrists in one hand, I found I could easily restrain her. My other hand found the belt again, and I tied her wrists together behind her back. Before very long, I let go of her wrists, threaded the belt through its buckle and tightened it up. Now I'd denied her the use of her arms and her hands, while mine were free. Given a few minutes, she would be able to work herself loose—but I was not about to give her those minutes.

"Foul!" she yelled. "I call a foul! Illegally manhandling a woman!"

"You're about to find out what 'manhandling' is," I threatened.

We were laughing, now. So far, this had been good, clean, brother-and-sister horseplay—except, of course, that it had begun in a shared shower. And we were still bare-ass naked. After turning her around so that she faced me, I stooped, threw my bound prisoner-of-war over my shoulder, and stood up. As I did so, I could not help but notice (and admire) her perfect little titties, the little brown triangle of her bush, and the cleft to which the latter pointed. And as I climbed the stairs with that wonderfully feminine bundle on my shoulder, I noticed that I had a half boner—unlikely as that seemed less than a half an hour after I'd had a thundering orgasm.

I carried her into her room, delivering my best chortles as I did so. She screamed and yelled; she called me a bully, a dope, an asshole, a moron, a bad sport, and a big old meanie. Her legs flailed. It was all to no avail. She was in my power, and we both knew it.