Crazy Together

Tammy was surprised. He had started to shoplift, it seemed, soon after she had stormed out of his apartment, scared off by their kiss.

"Well, it's juvenile teenage rebellion," she said, imitating their mother. "I've got a few choice books waiting for you at home in my library for parenting shitty kids."

Tammy felt strange. She was driving Max's car, back to his place. She hadn't asked, nor was she scared to be alone with him. Max turned the radio to her favorite station, and Tammy allowed herself a brief moment of gazing at his hands, his long, slender fingers, which had once played piano for her as a little girl. His arms had held her when she fell down and skinned her knee trying to climb the old tree behind their grandmother's house. She'd ridden on those shoulders before.

What would my ankles look like up there?

Tammy realized that Max was the bravest person she'd ever known. He'd kissed her—he'd put himself out there, admitted his feelings and acted on them, when she was too afraid too. She had only run away like a coward. She'd replayed that night in her head every day since she'd left, with different outcomes. Sometimes, she just imagined a soft kiss, a sharing of chaste, tender love. Other times, though, when she was alone at night, she let her mind wander to the other possibilities, and she touched herself the way she wanted her brother to touch her. She never found it easy to climax, even by herself, but those fantasies always put her body in a state of intense arousal. The shame of such feelings was almost absent, though, because she knew she wasn't alone, wasn't crazy: Max felt it too.

When they got home—our home? she asked herself—Max was the first to speak.

"So...I've got a confession to make," he said.

Tammy's whole body tensed with frenetic energy; she had a secret now, and keeping it in was too much.

"Spill," she said, her legs tapping like they had that first night, when the shoe had been on the other foot.

"I've been doing this for months now," he said, "shoplifting, I mean. And I figured that when I got caught, then that was the time to call you again."

"It's a little...poetic, don't you think?" she asked.

"It's probably lame," he replied, "but I just wanted to see you again, to tell you I'm sorry."

Tammy wished she was bold enough to drop the pretense, to proclaim her love for him, but she wasn't. He looked so handsome tonight, clean-shaven, with his prominent jaw and crisp, dark hair. She couldn't speak unless she was sure of his feelings, so she let him continue.

"I...I let things get out of hand. I fucked up bad, and I get why you ran away. I won't do anything like that again. I just don't want you to feel weird around me and stay away."

"Like you did before?" she asked.

Max felt guilty.

"Yeah. Like me. If you want to live here, you totally can. No rent or anything. Just...don't hold one stupid thing against me."

Tammy didn't plan to toy with him, at least not directly. But she wanted to press him, because deep down, she knew he wouldn't lie to her.

"...because you're never going to do it again?"

"Right."

"...because you don't really see me that way. I mean, like a girl—a woman?"

Max started to sweat a bit.

"Yes—I mean, no. What I...I won't do anything, you know, like that, again, because....because I have more self-control than that."

Tammy smiled. She had him right where she wanted him.

"And what do you need self-control for?"

Max realized he'd said too much already.

"Because...Tammy—"

"Who's Tammy?" she asked playfully.

Max searched her eyes, trying to discover the purpose of the game she was playing with him.

"My sister," he said. "She looks a lot like you, Joelle."

Tammy smiled. He was playing back now.

"She must be very beautiful," she said. "What do you like most about her?"

Max paused. She was baiting him. What could he say? Something lame and innocuous? Something sexy and wrong? Did he want to wriggle out of this situation, or was something happening here that was out of his control?

"I like everything about her," he replied. "Mostly, I like that when I'm with her, I feel more alive than I ever have before."

Tammy's eyes widened.

"That and her tits," Max said, shocked at his own cheekiness.

Tammy had planned to string this game out, to make Max profess his undying love for her in full before she ever let on that she had finally accepted her own feelings for him. Suddenly, the game, designed as it was to allay her fears of rejection, seemed unimportant.

"Max," she said, coming in close to him. "I want you. Now."

She took his hands in hers and guided them to her breasts. A moment passed, where everything could have been shrugged off as a joke. They looked into each others' eyes, a look of complicity, longing, and lust. While both had come, begrudgingly at first, to accept that they harbored romantic feelings for one another, they now confronted the reality of their desire, physical and emotional at the same time, to have each other, to feel pleasure and to give it, to act on the things they had both only imagined alone in the dark.

Max moved to speak, but Tammy touched his lips with her finger. She felt Max's warm tongue reach out, pulling her finger into his mouth. It was such an intimate, erotic act to someone like her, who only knew sex as a joyless, hurried experience. Max pulled her in close, and when she withdrew her finger, she allowed her hand to trace his chest, until she reached his belt.

When they kissed, for the second time, she felt her lingering fears and doubts fade away. This was right. This was where she belonged. His tongue explored her mouth, dancing with her own. Her neck burned, ever so slightly, as she had to crane her head upwards to meet his mouth. She suddenly wished they were on a bed, though that could come soon enough.

Max turned off that part of his brain that normally held control. It didn't go away though, only became a passenger. It watched and listened, but didn't speak. It raised no objection when his hands cupped his sister's round, toned ass, squeezing her provocatively. It didn't warn him about trying to take off her top, and never told him he was moving too fast, that this was all still just as wrong now as it was before, that this was his sister stroking his cock in his pants.

Tammy was glad that Max helped her to slow down. She felt so rushed, as if she would wake up from an impossibly perfect dream, and wanted it reach the good part before her slumber ended. Max, though, never seemed hurried. His touch, the way he carefully removed her bra, letting her heavy, soft breasts hang free before him, the way he kissed down her neck, the way he guided her with a simple hand on her back to the sofa: all of it was cool, tender, as if he was savoring every moment and not simply rushing towards some pre-determined end.

Yet he wasn't distant or dispassionate. His eyes burned for her, and she knew she had aroused him fiercely. He was a cold-burning flame, but he burned for her nonetheless. He felt stronger than she had expected, and she felt small and fragile in his arms, even as he reveled in her strong, firm thighs and the ripples of sinewy muscle in her back. She didn't think about the things that had always ruined moments like this in the past, didn't worry about if her neck looked too chunky, or if her ankles were too thick. For his part, Max felt a confidence that normally eluded him: he knew he could make this moment perfect for her. He would make her feel better than she ever had before, and she would love him for it.

Tammy gasped when Max took her nipple into his mouth, and her typical nervous energy was amplified immensely. Her body squirmed beneath his, as Max slowly peeled off her last remaining shred of clothing. He thrilled in feeling her pussy already wet for him, and she delighted in the cool air enveloping her sex. Kissing his way down her body, he rose up slightly, so that he could take in the sight of her feminine flower. She was so lovely that he felt a small pang: he didn't deserve her. For only a moment, the conscious, worrying part of his mind wrested control once more. Was he taking advantage of her? Was he ruining her life?

For once, pure lust saved him. He dove in between her shapely thighs, his tongue dancing its way across her slit. She shuddered with pleasure, and he returned to his blissful state of sexual trance. The only thing that mattered at that moment was bringing the gorgeous woman laid out before him to a state of ecstatic joy. Even his own throbbing cock ceased to concern him. She had to come first.

Tammy had never felt anything like this before. She'd had a guy go down on her, of course, but never had anyone so worshiped her body, made her feel both owner and owned, lover and loved, with no thought of anything else in the world. Max's tongue was working some kind of magic on her, while his hand caressed her hips and stomach. She felt like a woman for the first time, in love with a man. Even if she could speak, words seemed unnecessary. Only sensations mattered.

Max had avoided her clit thus far, hoping to gradually build up her arousal to a point of complete abandonment. When he began, teasingly at first and only slowly more insistently, to stroke her engorged bud with his soft, wet tongue, he felt a tension, a good kind of tension, build inside her. Her muscles seemed to contract, and he could tell, without seeing it, that his sister was rolling her head back and forth, her hands stroking her hair as she loved to do. He reached his hands as far as he could and took hold of her nipples, pinching and rolling them firmly with his fingers. This was enough to drive her over the edge.

What came out of Tammy's mouth was a sound of pure physical ecstasy, as if she tried to tell him how she felt about him, all at once, words blending incomprehensibly into a cry of absolute bliss and sexual release. Max didn't stop stroking her until he knew her orgasm had subsided; when he looked up at her, his face glistening with her nectar, her eyes looked lost in a sea of lust and devotion.

"That was..." the whispered, out of breath, "...crazy. I feel crazy—but...good crazy."

Max stroked the inside of her thighs, themselves slick with juices.

"Will you kiss me?" he asked, aware some women don't like tasting themselves.

Tammy didn't give that a moment's thought. She tugged at him, until he was beside her on the sofa, and she brought him in for a passionate kiss. She didn't recoil, tasting herself for the first time: in fact, she decided it was actually nice to taste what he tasted. Her lust and desire momentarily sated, she felt like it was the time to explain herself, her disappearing act after he had kissed her.

"Max?"

Max held her close, stroking her back and butt.

"Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry. About before."

"You don't have to apologize. I love you."

"No, I do. It's just...guys treat me like a piece of ass. And...I didn't want it to be like that with you."

"Like I said, I love you," he replied, with a heavy heart for the pain she had felt before.

"Max, are we crazy? Is this crazy?"

Max paused for a moment, though his hands never ceased to caress her curves.

"Yes," he said in a whisper. "But I don't care."

It was exactly what she needed to hear.

"OK"

Tammy reached down to unbuckle Max's belt. She had almost forgotten that his pants hadn't come off yet.

"Don't be disappointed," he said.

Tammy stripped him and took hold of his cock. It was the perfect size, she thought, and best of all, it was rock hard for her. She stroked it lightly.

"I don't want to give you a blowjob," she said. "I mean, not just that. I want to feel you inside me. So, don't come. Please."

It was Tammy's turn to lower herself down off the couch, onto the floor, where she took her position between his long, hairy legs. She stared for a moment at his cock, proudly, almost painfully erect in her soft fingers, and his balls, covered in dark hair. Max had made her feel so good—the least she could do was return the favor.

Max was about to tell his sister that she didn't have to do this when she took one of his balls into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue. Meanwhile, her hands stroked his shaft, and after a minute she shifted her attentions to his other testicle. To see his beautiful sister, lavishing his cock and balls with attention, was like having an unreal sexual fantasy come to life.

Wordlessly, she took his ball out of her mouth and plunged her mouth over the head of his cock. Though he knew this was all simply a prelude, he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to spray his seed into his sister's inviting mouth, to release what would unquestionably be a massive load of cum down her throat. The sensations he felt, combined with the exquisite torture of watching her bob her pretty head up and down at his crotch were all too much.

"You gotta stop," he said, "before I come."

Tammy smiled up at him.

"I'm that good, huh?"

Max heard a voice speak; surely it wasn't his own, though he had no idea from where it arose:

"Ride my cock, right now!"

Tammy was startled to hear her brother take charge like that, though the dripping from her pussy made it clear that she liked it.

"Yes, sir!" she purred.

It wasn't hard to get him inside her. She only wished she was more flexible, because straddling him on the sofa meant that she couldn't get him all the way inside. Still, the feeling of his cock as it slowly spread her well-lubed pussy and his firm hands squeezing her ass cheeks was an indescribable feeling. She looked down at him, as he stared, seemingly mesmerized, by her full, luscious tits in his face. She watched him, as if from a distance, as he licked and sucked at her breasts like a madman. She had never seen—could never imagine—Max so visceral, so physical and raw.

She wanted him to use her, to take her for himself. If she could make him like this, frenzied with lust, then she would always know he'd love her.

"Fuck me, Max," she begged. "Fuck me hard!"

Tammy wasn't prepared for what happened next, though. With a strength she couldn't believe he possessed, Max lifted her off the sofa, still impaled on his cock and all but threw her down. Without a moment to pause, he dove back on top of her and shoved his cock back into her cunt, pumping away furiously. Then she felt a hand reach across her stomach, until it rested flat along her mons.

Though he looked lost in blind, unthinking lust, Max retained his wits enough to know that she would feel things on another level if he stimulated her clit, too. When she felt his thumb began to circle the very top of her clit, then stroke it up and down, she thought she had found heaven on earth. Her low moans suddenly became high pitched cries, and she began to babble, calling out Max's name over and over again.

Sweat cascaded off his forehead as he slapped his pelvis hard against hers, a note of pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure she felt. She'd always been quiet during sex, afraid to say the wrong thing, to kill the mood. Now she wanted to urge Max on.

"Don't...stop...fucking me...ever."

Max smiled down at her, his facing unclenching to seem almost normal.

"Never," he said breathlessly, before bending down to kiss her.

Their lips pressed together, mouths open in passionate embrace, Tammy began to rock her hips against his, their animalistic fury giving way as if by mutual desire to a slower, more sensual rhythm.

"Come inside me Max," she whispered. "I want to feel it."

He redoubled his efforts on her clit, and she found that the slower pace, combined with his expert fingers, was bringing her quickly to the point of ecstasy once more.

"I'm...oh god...I'm coming," she cried out.

Max felt a swell of pride for bringing her to orgasm again.

"Come for me baby. Come on my dick," he urged her.

He had only a moment before her clenching, velvet-soft pussy pushed him to his limit as well. He had no time to warn her or call out—suddenly, he was filling her with spurt after spurt of warm cum from his twitching, aching cock.

Tammy had never had sex without a condom before, and the feeling of a man coming inside her was thrilling. Knowing that that man loved her intensely, almost dangerously, made it all the more meaningful. She never wanted him to leave. She wanted that cock to belong to her now, to make her feel like this always. She'd have it every way she wanted, and all it would take was to offer her body, mind, and soul to Max. It would be perfect.

After a few moments of wordless bliss, though, Max withdrew from her. She felt empty, but fulfilled. He was right, of course: all that anti-sex shit was out the window.

"Joelle?"

She looked into his eyes.

"It's Tammy."

"Are you sure?"

She paused. No use in holding back.

"Max, I'm your sister. You're my brother, and I'm in love with you. We both know this won't be the last time. God, I didn't know the first time would be so good."

Max rolled her over, playfully, to her side, to spoon her. She could feel his wet, sticky cock pressed against her backside, as his arms enveloped her across her breasts.

"Tammy, I was so scared of this, even though I wanted it so bad. I just...I'm terrified that I'll hurt you."

"You will," she said. "I get hurt a lot. But I'll heal. I won't break. I'll hurt you, too, even if you'd rather die than admit it."

Max felt a kind of weightless calm, a feeling he knew couldn't last forever. It was strange talking to her like this, her facing away from him, but somehow it made it easier to say what had to be said.

"Relationships are hard."

"So's your cock," she laughed. "Still."

"Yeah," he said dreamily. "But that's your fault."

"I won't freak out on you," she said. "I mean, I know what you're like. And I won't let you pull that drifting away shit either. But I get it. I don't want some make-believe version of you. You're enough for me just the way you are."

"It's all a little fucked, though, right?"

"Totally," she laughed, "a lot fucked."

"But that's OK?"

"Better than OK," she said thoughtfully. "It's as crazy as we are."

Max didn't feel crazy. He didn't feel depressed. In fact, he had only felt like this once before in his life: when he woke up in the hospital, alive, and realized that he was happy to still be there. Then, his joy came from merely continuing to live and breathe; now, it was all because of his sister.

"Tammy—this is it."

He didn't expect her to understand him; it was all to set-up his next line. She surprised him.

"I know," she said with a smile. "I told you I'd find the real you."

Whatever was in store for them, Max knew that he'd found something—someone—worth living for. He still harbored doubts and fears, but they were about himself. Could he make her happy? Would he hold her back or lift her up? Somehow, not knowing the answers was itself a kind of pleasure. The future felt so open.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered in her ear.

"I know," she said jokingly, "but here I am. I'm yours."

Unlike Max, Tammy felt no fear or doubt. In time they would return; life couldn't go on as perfect as this. Ugly realities would intrude. They'd fight, second guess themselves, wonder what their lives were supposed to be about. But that was called being human. What mattered to her then was that she'd turned the page on a long, dark chapter of her life. Wrapped in Max's arms and still intoxicated by their lovemaking, Tammy knew, as if she was remembering something she'd forgotten, that life was more than avoiding pain, running away from the bad. She was going to chase her happiness, and she wouldn't have to do it alone.

I'm his.