It Started with a Kiss Ch. 02

Very gently, with a trained touch, he ran his fingertips along the edge of her pussy lips until he arrived at her clit. It was hard and sticking up, begging for the attention that it knew he was about to lavish upon it.

The heat that was radiating from between her legs was staggering. Not only was she steaming hot down there but also springing a leak. Frank had to admit that he preferred girls that got wet. Some girls don't – at least not very much – and it's always difficult to tell how horny they are due to it.

However, with Monica, the juices flowed like he was rafting down an insane rapid.

For over half an hour he continued to squeeze, rub and stroke her body. Both of them were hardly aware of the film as he played with her, toyed with her. By the time he slipped two digits inside her tight opening she had gone way beyond being putty in his arms – she had turned to absolute slush.

"Mmm, shit Frank, this feels so good."

He kissed her on the cheek and licked her warm skin. "It's supposed to feel good, that's the point."

"No, I mean it feelsreally good. The rumors are true."

"What rumors?" he asked, still working his fingers in and out of her.

"Do you remember when you dated Wendy Hughes?"

"Sunny?"

Back a couple of years ago he'd dated a fiery redhead called Wendy Hughes. She was very pretty and had a fiercely independent streak in her. Earlier in high school she'd adopted the nickname Sunny, simply because it was the perpetual state of her disposition. The sex had been pretty incredible while it lasted, with Sunny being overly aggressive and domineering with all things concerning coitus. If he remembered correctly they'd parted on even terms, both citing that their personalities hadn't clicked.

"Yeah," Monica sighed, arching her back as he probed her perspiring pussy and groped her soft breasts. "Well, when you guys split she told everyone about how bloody good you were in bed. Not only that, she also admitted that you would...um...that you would spend hours dedicating yourself to her. You know, playing with her."

He swallowed nervously and felt droplets of sweat slide down his brow. Oh shit, he thought, she divulged their sex life to everyone?

"How many people know about this," he asked.

"Probably every girl at Grammacy. Hell Frank, it's practically folklore amongst the girls."

"Great," he groaned. "That's real great."

"Didn't you ever wonder why girls flocked to you? Jesus, you're hot but you aren't that hot!"

"That's it, I don't want to know any more."

"That's probably for the best," she replied cryptically.

Frank shook his head and laughed. Like most males, he didn't have a clue when it came to women. He thought he had it all in perspective, only now he realized that he'd been deluding himself the whole time. Even with his extensive carnal knowledge he still didn't know squat about the girl in his arms. She remained a huge mystery even though he'd lived with her all his life.

None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was getting Monica off, to make her cum all over his invading fingers. Her pussy was now a sticky mess, making sexy squishy noises each time he thrust completely into her, right up to the knuckles. God she was tight. So tight and smooth and warm, and with each consecutive jerk of his fingers she was becoming a well of wetness – his two fingers being the pump.

Her body was writhing atop of his and her ass was grinding pleasantly into his crotch. There was a small degree of stirring, like the teasing puff of smoke emerging from a thousand-year-old volcano, yet things still lay dormant between his legs. She really had killed him earlier that afternoon.

Frank upped the fingering level to stage two. Using his thumb, he managed to maneuver it so that he could brush it against her clit as his fingers continued their assault on her pussy. This caused Monica to shudder, emit a squeal of pleasure, and writhe in his arms like she was experiencing an epileptic fit.

"Fuck!" Monica cried out. Her hips lifted out from between his thighs and surged against his hand. Frank began to have trouble controlling her, so his left hand gave each breast a goodbye squeeze and ventured back down to her waist in an effort to hold her steady.

"You like that, do you?" he asked.

"Y-yes, you co-could say th-that."

"Want me to stop?" he teased.

"S-stop and you're a d-d-dead man."

Nothing in the world came close to rivaling the sheer pleasure of watching a girl have an orgasm. Each girl is different in how their bodies react; their mannerisms and traits all produce a contrasting effect when they come. Frank particularly enjoyed Monica's deliciously saucy reaction. It seemed that she enjoyed it more than any girl he'd had the pleasure of...well, pleasuring.

"Mon, are you going to cum?"

The only response he received was a protracted sigh and a slight whimper. If he had one of those magic eight balls and shook it right at this instant, he was positive it would confess to 'all signs point to yes.'

At last, with his fingers sloshing in and out of her tight opening at a frenzied rate and the manic rubbing of her hardened clit, her body went as stiff as a plank of wood and her pussy exploded with thousands of jolting sensations, all shooting up to her brain with one crystal clear message – pleasure – and lots of it.

"Oh yes, Franky, oh god yes," Monica panted. Blonde strands of hair flew in his face and he was forced to relinquish his hold on her as the power of her orgasm overtook her. Her pussy convulsed around his fingers and secreted a river of wetness that bathed his intruding digits. "Fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Each utterance of the word 'fuck' was punctuated with a jerk of her hips, resulting in her Garfield t-shirt being pushed up her body. When Frank returned his hand to her stomach he met hot, smooth skin, which sent tingles speeding through his body.

It lasted another minute and then she began to coast down, until she finally stopped squealing and her body lay limp against his. Monica was still panting heavily and moaning softly, so he decided to extract his fingers from between her legs before he did any further damage. They were sticky and soaked in her warm juices.

"Phew," she sighed. "That was...really something else."

He kissed her cheek and wiped his fingers on her Garfield t-shirt. "Are you sure you didn't fake it?"

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "It was all an elaborate act. Hell, I wouldn't even know where to begin faking something like that! You should know, I'm a terrible liar."

Monica disentangled herself from Frank and tried to stand. She took a tentative step, wobbled on shaky legs, buckled at the knees and went crashing to the floor in a fit of giggles and laughter.

"See what you've done to me," she grinned, then combed her hair away from her face. "I can't even walk properly."

He crawled over to her on his hands and knees, a frown crinkling his brow. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Monica gripped his wrist and guided it between her legs. His hand brushed against her soft thighs and then met her sopping wet pussy.

"Am I okay?" she echoed incredulously. "Frank, can you feel what you've done to me down there? I'm more than okay. Every part of me has fallen head over heels in love with you, especially my pussy."

"I'm doing my best to please the both of you."

"Well, you're succeeding in spades."

Exercising furious strength – not for the first time, either – Monica rolled him onto his back and scaled his body with movements that could match the speed of Superman. Or, more aptly put, Supergirl. She showered his face in kisses and her long blonde hair fell all around him, trapping him in a golden canopy that shielded his view of everything except her gorgeous face.

For the first time he realized that he couldn't hear the movie playing, which meant that he had spent over two hours exploring her wonderful body. What Monica had concluded earlier had been dead-on: he couldn't keep his hands off her. Even now, after playing with her for hours, they were magnetized to her, drawn by her potent sexuality and her mouth-watering body. They began massaging her neck, caressing and kneading her through the soft, thin fabric of her t-shirt. Then they traced their way down the gentle curve of her spine until they arrived at her beautiful ass. Each cheek filled a hand and he squeezed and groped her supple flesh, eliciting a giggle from her when he gave her a playful spank.

"You've been naughty," he whispered.

"Have I?" she breathed sexily. "What's my punishment?"

"Copious amounts of sex."

"Ooh, I am a lucky girl then, aren't I?"

Their lips touched and their tongues intertwined. Invisible sparks flew as their passion ignited, the power of their loins taking a backseat to the sweet and tender art of making out. Their kiss was hot and sexy, soft lips and wet tongues searching and exploring. Even when kissing at a leisurely pace there was an undercurrent of intensity crackling between them. Each gentle flick of the tongue and every cry of delight reinforced that it wasn't just primitive lust that had delivered them into one another's arms – but a strange yearning for a love that should never be.

The hour glass had been tipped over as they made out, because time had come to a standstill. Nothing else registered. Nothing else mattered. All Frank could think about was kissing his lovely sister, she of the blonde hair and green eyes. The girl he'd watched over since he could remember, whom he had loved and cherished since the time she was born. His hands were glued to her tight, firm ass, and his tongue was deep inside her mouth, sucking on hers with pure delight.

There was no weirdness. They were siblings yet it seemed like they were long-time lovers. It wasn't his sister he was kissing, but a beautiful blonde that was smart and who had a killer body – she just happened to be related to him.

It was wrong, so very wrong, but at the same time it was devastatingly right.

They made out on the floor of their parents' lounge room, their hands stroking and bodies writhing. Making out with a girl had never been so exciting. Monica completely immersed herself in their kissing and seemed to love rolling around on the floor with him in her arms, until finally, after what may have been hours of sensual pashing, the sound of a revving engine broke through the dizzying spell they'd been cast under.

They were up on their feet in no time and Monica's panties were returned to her body. They hastily retreated to the kitchen and dispensed with the cleaning of their dishes.

It wasn't unnatural for Monica to be in such a skimpy outfit in hot weather, so when their parents breezed through the front door they didn't suspect anything.

"Hey kids, how was your day at the funny farm?" their mother asked. Sometimes she referred to school as the funny farm, it was just another glimpse of her strange brand of humor shining through.

"Insane," replied Frank.

"Totally and utterly despicable," Monica added. "You wouldn't believe it, crazy people as far as the eye can see."

"Bart, Lisa," Nathan Cassidy greeted. Simpsons fan that he was, sometimes he would call his children by Homer and Marge's kids' names. Their family was as weird, if not weirder, than those of the yellow-faced and four-fingered variety.

"Hey Homer, how was your day at the plant?" Frank asked.

Frank and Monica finished with drying their dishes and returned them to their rightful homes. Their parents moved into the kitchen holding hands, then poured a glass of sparkling white wine. Occasionally they would share the same wine glass, which was really romantic if you took time to think about it.

"Not bad," Nathan said. "Oh, I was searching around in the basement and found that Kirsten Dunst poster you've been hankering for. Quite a cutie with that red hair, isn't she?"

Out of the corner of his eye Frank caught Monica placing a hand over her mouth, a poor attempt at trying to stifle a breath-taking smile and a giggle or two.

"Uh...yeah, thanks Dad."

"I wouldn't laugh too soon," Jean said, staring at Monica.

Monica flashed her mother a 'who, me?' look, managing to appear amazingly cute in the process. In her attire, a pair of pink panties and a Garfield t-shirt, it would've been almost impossible for her not to look cute.

"Yeah, you. Nathan also found that Brad Pitt poster you wanted. So don't go acting all high and mighty, missy."

Frank started to laugh and a red hue suddenly materialized on Monica's cheeks. Her face formed a pout and she tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears. It was a nervous trait that Monica had adopted since she was a little girl, one of many tell-tale signs that highlighted her embarrassment.

For a while they stood in the kitchen and talked about their respective days. None of them had much to report to one another, other than the fact that Monica had lost her virginity to Frank, but that was perhaps a tad too controversial for general discussion. Instead, they talked about school, the cinema, movies that were going to be released and the county fair that was arriving on Saturday.

When they said goodnight to their parents they made a bee-line for Monica's room, which lay halfway down the darkened hallway and out of their parents' line of sight. Just as they were about to enter her abode Frank heard his father shout out, "Hey Frank! Thanks for leaving the DVD player running and the television turned on!"

Whoops. "No problem!" Frank shouted back with a grin.

They crossed into her room and shut the door behind them. Monica switched the light on and sat down on the edge of her bed, leaning back and bracing herself with her arms – which made her breasts strain against the cotton fabric housing them – and let her legs splay apart in a lazy, nonchalant fashion. You could see the clear outline of her slit and that entire area of her crotch was a darker shade of pink than the rest. Her smooth, well-toned legs dangled over the bed's precipice, and his hands itched to glide along the milky contours of her calves and thighs. Painted to her lips was a knowing smile and her head was cocked to the side, causing her blonde hair to fan around her right shoulder in a disheveled, yet totally alluring, heap.

This picturesque image was now burnt into his retinas for all-time. If he were to be blinded this instant then he would forever carry that image as if just seen – it was that powerful.

"You're quite the exhibitionist, aren't you?" he asked, standing in front of her with his eyes glued to her body.

She flashed him a sly smile, reached down between her legs and pulled her panties to the side, revealing her slick, gorgeous pussy. The overhead light glimmered off the moist skin and her lips were puffy and red. Soft, downy blonde curls could be seen resting above, and her little clit could be seen poking its head out of her folds, saluting him over a job well done.

"Gee Frank, I think you're a little bit of a voyeur," she teased.

"Huh?" He lifted his gaze to her face and he encountered an incredible smile. "Oh, right, gotcha. You may have something there."

"May?" she laughed. "Frank, if you stared at my pussy any harder you'd strain your eyes."

Eventually, after letting him ogle her wares for a very long time, she let her panties snap snuggly against her pussy and closed down the peepshow. Then Monica patted the bed next to her and invited him to take a load off.

"Would you like to go on a date tomorrow?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

Monica's face lit up and she nodded her head vigorously. "Oh yes, most definitely," she answered.

"How about dinner and a movie? Pick you up at...say, seven o'clock?"

"Sounds perfect. Do you know where I live?"

"I think I'll be able to find the place," he grinned.

They twisted their bodies sideways and he embraced her, delivering a single kiss to her trembling lips. Gently, noticing her 'Fragile: Handle with Care' sticker, he pushed at her shoulders and laid her down on her back. The bed was much too tiny for them both to lie down in comfort, therefore he remained on the edge, reaching down to caress her cheek affectionately and stroke her hair.

"We have to be careful though, okay?" he said.

"I know. We've both got to be on our best behavior."

She kissed his hand and smiled up at him. It was a dreamy smile, aimed right at him with all the deliberation a girl could muster. A smile like that told a guy a lot of things, maybe too many things, but if you've never seen that smile then you're missing out. Smiles of that nature are priceless, worth more than any Picasso or pirate's treasure ever could be.

"You really are a great guy," she whispered. "You're so sweet and gentle, a wonderful kisser, and you know how to make a girl's first time special. Thank you."

He kissed her softly on the lips and took her hand in his. "I just want you to know that I would've waited as long as you wanted, it didn't have to be today."

"I know that, but I wanted you today. I wanted you yesterday. Hell, I've wanted you for a long, long time. Is that naughty of me?" she asked with a cute smirk.

"Very naughty," he replied.

"And my punishment is...?"

"Lots and lots of sex."

"Mmm," she moaned, snuggling into her pillow. "I can't wait."

Frank continued to stroke her blonde hair and watched as her eyelids grew heavy and started to droop. The gentle rhythm of her breathing caused her chest to rise and fall slowly, with Garfield and Arlene traveling along for the ride.

It was too warm to sleep under the covers, therefore it was no surprise when Monica finally submitted to sleep's gentle grasp and left Frank for the world of dreams and fantasies.

She was so cute. Pale pink panties, a bare midriff, the most beautiful face framed with lovely golden-blonde hair...and asleep, Jesus, she looked like an angelic Goddess that had descended from the heavens, too beautiful for a mere mortal such as himself.

When he was certain that she was fast asleep he bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then, as much as he didn't want to, he left her where she lay and carefully made his retreat. The coast was clear and he arrived at his bedroom riddled with conflicting emotions. At his age, confusion ran rife; it was part and parcel of growing older. However, falling in love with your sister is not the cause of textbook teenage anxiety.

He met his muddy-brown eyes in his closet mirror, wondering how he'd become embroiled in a torrid love affair with his younger sibling.

Was he sick? Had something in his mind snapped and sent him deviating from his somewhat normal, everyday lifestyle? He did love his sister, but how far was too far?

While he was with her the sun shone and the birds sang, it felt so natural that half the time the fact she was his sister didn't even play in his mind. Away from her, like now, things tended to cloud over and the birds stopped tweeting. It was a depressing road they were venturing down, one filled with pressure and the constant paranoia of always having to look over your shoulder. If they were caught, their lives would be ruined. It was that simple.

They could never have a normal relationship, but things had progressed beyond the point of no return. The lever controlling the rollercoaster had been thrown and they were hastily ascending the steep incline. Both of them were about to partake in a dangerous thrill-ride that was tumultuous and filled with blind corners, only Frank prayed to God that there were no gaps in the track.

If there were, they were both going to be in a world of hurt.

Tomorrow was Friday, another day of school and a date with the girl he loved. The future had always appeared hazy and ill-defined, like looking through a dirty window. Now, things were spiraling out of control with kaleidoscopic proportions, swirling so fast that a headache ensues.