Sharing Dirty Stories With Sister

"Good," I said, "Let me know when they go further."

"He's kissing her breasts," Jennifer said.

I leaned forward. Took a coral pink nipple into my mouth and lightly suckled. I switched back and forth between my sister's boobs. Tickled at each stiff nipple with my tongue. She arched her back slightly and kicked out her legs. A little pre-sex stretch.

"He's moving his mouth lower," Jennifer said.

I kissed down her tummy to her twat. I opened my sister's legs as far as I could and buried my tongue in her center. Any awkwardness, any feelings of 'wrong,' had been shoved away. I lapped slowly at my sister's snatch, gradually working my tongue towards her clit.

I wish I could say that I performed incredible cunnilingus on Jennifer. That I had her screaming in ecstasy with every lick. In truth, my ex had never been big on oral (giving or receiving) and it wasn't something I'd ever gotten good at.

I hope I was at least serviceable. Jennifer moaned and shifted. I could tell I wasn't exactly blowing my sister's mind. I pressed my tongue flat on her clit and rubbed back and forth. I curled my tongue and slipped it inside.

She tasted good. Musky and not too strong. Mostly, I just liked being this intimate with her. Jennifer's legs around my head. Her pussy in my mouth. Her most private place, now completely exposed.

"He's kissing back up her stomach," Jennifer said, maybe a bit sooner than I'd hoped she'd want to. "He's reaching down, grabbing his cock.

I smiled to myself. This was my big surprise. I reached down for my dick. Quickly covered it in lube. Then brought it up where Jennifer couldn't see it.

"He's centering it over her pussy," Jennifer said, "Pressing the head against her... OH!"

I'd placed the head at her opening. My sister's eyes went wide, afraid. For a moment, she thought I'd actually done it. Then she looked down and saw the truth: I was holding a dildo in my hands.

She laughed. "That's very clever," she said, beaming.

I'd picked it up on the way home from work a few days before. Finding a sex toy shop in NYC is about as easy as getting good pizza. There's a place in every neighborhood. Or at least it feels that way sometimes.

I know it's silly, but I'd looked for one that I thought was at least reminiscent of my own protuberance. Pink with good-sized balls at the end. Neither ridiculously tiny nor straight up ridiculous. After, I'd purchased the rubber penis, I brought it home and washed it thoroughly. Finally, I hid it under the bed, waiting for this exact moment.

"Let's try this again," Jennifer said. My big reveal had, ironically, messed with the mood a little. She repeated the last few lines. I kissed my way up her stomach again. I put more lube on the dildo, just in case. This time, my sister knew to expect my rubber replacement.

I kissed the head at her opening, then slowly slid forward into her opening. Jennifer's breath quickened. She gasped.

"Wait," she said. She put her hand on my chest, pushing me back.

I looked back at her, worried and surprised.

"Is everything OK?" I asked.

"It's fine," Jennifer said, "I just..." She seemed to be making a decision. "I'm not in the mood for it right now."

"Oh," I said, "OK." I tried to hide my disappointment. The fact that my sister was setting a boundary was a good thing. "Did I mess up?"

"Oh God no. That was such a good idea, Matt. With the toy. I mean, in the moment I really thought you were about to. You know?"

"I thought you'd like it," I said.

"You put a lot of thought into it," Jennifer said, "That's what means so much to me."

"But not for tonight," I said, "Do you want me to do other things?"

"No, it's OK," Jennifer said, "Just come here. Hold me for a moment."

I tossed the dildo to the side and scooched next to my sister. Wrapped my arm around her arms and pulled her close. Her naked body pressed against mine. Jennifer let her head rest on my shoulder. She let out a big, satisfied sigh.

"This is nice," she said as I stroked her hair. I kissed the top of her head.

"Very," I said. I hated to keep comparing, but with my ex we almost never lay down together like this. It was always too hot or awkward. Our arms feeling extra, like they were locked in the wrong spot.

With Jennifer, it was like we fit together. She just slid into her spot. I could have stayed that way for hours. Even in the epic heat, her body felt comfortable next to mine. Like it was meant to be there. She played her fingers through my chest hair. We didn't say a word. Our heartbeats slowly matched.

"Hey Matt?" Jennifer looked up at me. Our faces were so close. We leaned forward.

Our lips touched.

It was like electricity. Like sharing souls. We kissed and, for a moment, we combined into one ecstatic, incredible being.

Then Jennifer jumped out of the bed.

"OhshitI'msorry," she said. One long frantic word. My sister didn't even bother with her clothing, just fled from my room, slamming the door behind her.

I got out of bed and went after her.

"Jennifer?"

She was in the living room. Her suitcase was open, and she was stuffing it full while throwing on clothes.

"I have to go," she said.

"It's OK," I said.

"No, it's not," Jennifer said. She pulled her shirt over her head. Shimmied her pants up her legs.

"Let's talk about this," I said, "Please."

"Let's not," she said.

"Where will you go?" I asked.

"I have a friend from work. I'll text her on the way. I'm sure she'll let me crash."

"Jen, I..."

The door was already shut.

My sister was gone.

*

Jennifer came back two days later, looking bedraggled and wan. I'd been texting her like crazy, but she only responded twice. Once to tell me she was alive, another to say she was coming back to the apartment.

But, as soon as I saw her, I knew it was never going to be the same. Jennifer unpacked her things like she was unloading a coffin.

"I'm glad you're home," I told her, standing off to the side. I feared if I came any closer, she'd scamper.

"I'm heading out for work in a minute," she replied. It was a Saturday. But as soon as her things were unpacked, Jennifer fled the apartment.

We reached an unspoken agreement. Like the sun and the moon, we lived in the same place, but we never shared the sky. At first, I kept up my steady diet of texts, but after a few days I realized I was only making things worse. I wrote her a long email missive, apologizing for everything and begging for her forgiveness. She never wrote me back.

We settled into our respective lives, keeping them as separate as possible. I stayed long hours at the office. It did wonders for my career ("Matt's really got his nose to the grindstone," I overheard my boss tell someone), but it broke me. I slept at home, fitful, then slipped out at first light.

I could only assume Jennifer was doing the same. I saw the evidence that she still lived with me. The mussed sheets on the futon. A used coffee mug in the sink. A couple of times, we crossed paths for a moment. We just grunted at each other, like even one word would be too much to say.

Over time, the wounds didn't heal, but they stopped festering. We didn't get any kinder to each other, but we didn't get mean, either. We settled into what I would say was a perfectly appropriate, shared living situation for two siblings. It wasn't pleasant, but it was probably for the best.

So, of course, my Mom had to go and mess it up.

*

It's your cousin Izzy's bar mitzvah," Mom said, "You have to be there."

Jennifer and I stood on opposite sides of the room, staring at the iPhone like it might detonate at any second. Arms crossed.

"I didn't even know I had a Cousin Izzy," Jennifer said, cagily.

"He's your father's sister's daughter's kid," Mom said. The speakerphone made her voice even more nasal than usual -- a feat that I'd previously thought was impossible.

"He's like, barely related to us, Mom," I said.

"I don't care," Mom said, "You were invited so you're going. Besides, it'll be good for both of you to get out of that smelly city for a while."

I looked over at Jennifer and we shared an eyeroll. My mother's best arguments were irrational, that was how she kept you from arguing back.

"Good," Mom said, taking our silence to mean acceptance, "Your father and I will pick you up Saturday morning."

*

We took turns in the shower. Got dressed in our separate rooms.

"Ready to go?" I asked, as I stepped into the living room. I was wearing a grey sport coat with a light blue dress shirt and no tie. Jennifer had on a short black dress, tight to her body. She looked amazing, of course. I made myself gaze away.

"Go downstairs," Jennifer said, "I'll join you in a sec."

That's how distant we'd become. We couldn't even share an elevator together.

We stood on the curb, silent, scanning the traffic for my parent's car like lions eyeing a passing herd of antelope.

"You look nice," Jennifer said, not looking at me.

"You, too."

"Let's just get through this and then we can get back to our lives, OK?" Jennifer said.

"Fine," I said. It was more like a hostage negotiation than a conversation.

My Dad's silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb and we climbed into the back. We said a quick hello to my parents, then stared out our respective windows.

"So, how are things?" Mom asked, turning back to look at the both of us.

"Fine," I said.

"Fine," Jennifer said.

Mom turned back around. My Dad turned up the music. We went up through the Bronx and into Yonkers. Slowly, the city ebbed away. We drove down quiet, forested streets. We were twenty miles north of Manhattan, at most. It looked like another world.

We didn't say a word the entire way. You'd think we were going to a funeral. At one point, I accidentally touched my sister's hand. She glared at me like I'd grabbed her boob.

Finally, my father turned off the main road and pulled up to what looked like a classic, massive mansion. We got out of the car and a valet took the keys. Inside, it was clearly someone's home that had been turned into an event space. According to my Dad, it used to be owned by Mark Twain, but I was dubious.

A host led us to a grand, glass-walled room with stone tile floors where they were having a cocktail hour. Warm music tinkled in the background. A waitress handed us glasses of white wine. Jennifer downed hers like she was taking a shot.

It didn't take long for the room to fill up with family. I recognized a few of the faces, but I did my best to maintain my distance. I hadn't seen most of these people in years and I would have been more than happy to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, my Aunt Cassie managed to corner me. "Matthew! I haven't seen you in ages!" she declared, advancing on me like a brigade thrusting at a weak spot in the enemy's lines.

"Hi," I said, bringing out my best fake smile.

"Where's Beth?" Aunt Cassie asked.

"We're separated," I said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Aunt Cassie said, "She was such a nice girl."

I did my best to slip away, but it was only the beginning. The rest of the afternoon, anytime I found a free moment, someone grabbed my arm and asked about my ex-wife. Had my parents seriously not told anyone about the divorce?

Between the alcohol and the constant questioning, I started to get a bit rowdy. Finally, I was standing in the corner when I was accosted by my Cousin Betsy. She used her broad body to wedge me into a corner. I was overpowered by the smell of old flowers.

"So, how's Beth?" she asked immediately. Not even a hello.

"We're divorced," I said.

"Oh, that's a shame," Betsy said, "She's so beautiful and worldly. You could tell she was going places, you know?"

"I suppose," I said.

"Did you have any kids?" Betsy asked. She fixed her oversized glasses on her nose. Smiled at me with yellowing teeth.

"None," I said.

"With how successful she is, I bet Beth didn't want kids to keep her back."

"Oh, she wanted kids," I replied, harshly, "She just wanted them with the dude who lives down the street."

Betsy gasped, putting her hand on her chest. I braced myself for the next barrage. Then I felt a sharp tug on my elbow.

"Sorry, he's had way too much to drink."

I looked back and saw Jennifer standing behind me. She pulled at my arm even harder. "Come on, Matt, let's leave the nice people alone."

My sister strongarmed me out of the room, through a pair of glass doors and out to a stone patio. Even in my anger, I noticed that the view was stunning. Rolling green hills flanked by the wide, sparkling Hudson River. The day had gotten warm, but with the breeze, it was actually comfortable. A few other people were out there, too, crowded around small tables. They didn't even look up as my sister dragged me along.

Finally, Jennifer let go of my arm and stared at me, arms crossed around her chest.

"So," she said. I winced, waiting for her to unload on me like everyone else. "How's Beth doing?" Then she burst out laughing.

My jaw dropped. Her mirth overwhelmed my anger and I started to laugh, too. "You see it right?" I said, "Do they really not know or are they being rude on purpose?"

"You think you have it bad?" Jennifer asked, "All day in there. When are you getting married? When are you having kids? I'm twenty-two for fucks sake."

"Sorry," I said.

"Fucking family," Jennifer said. She took a big swig of her drink.

We stood out there and stared out at the view, silent. We'd had a moment, yes, but the tension between us was still there. I focused on the view -- it was the kind of thing you saw in paintings, but never experienced in real life. Easy to forget that the city loomed behind us, cacophonous and chaotic.

After a while, we were called in for dinner. They opened up a gorgeous, grand ballroom in some other part of the house and we went inside. My Dad gave me a grim smile when he saw me. I wondered if he was aware of what I was going through that day.

A table at the front of the ballroom had cards with seat assignments on them. My parents were placed with my Dad's siblings, but they split Jennifer and I by age. My sister ended up with the younger, college crowd. Meanwhile, I found myself sitting with a bunch of couples in their forties. All they wanted to talk about was the Jets or their kids. I couldn't care less about either.

Again, I was reminded of the age difference between Jennifer and me. I was at an 'adult' table, surrounded by people with thinning hairlines and growing bellies. Parents and executives. My sister was sitting with, well, college kids. They all looked so young -- gawky and giggling, coming into themselves. If I felt too young for my table, my sister seemed too mature for hers. Both of us meeting somewhere in the middle.

After dinner, a DJ came out and started playing music. The kids all ran out and the place turned into the world's dorkiest nightclub. I don't think I ever even saw the bar mitzvah boy. I just sat back in my chair, alone, and stared at my phone.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked up. Jennifer smiled down at me. She took the seat next to me with a loud sigh.

"I think Uncle Dave is fucking his daughter," she said.

I looked up. I hadn't noticed it, but the music had slowed down. There were only couples on the dance floor. Sure enough, Uncle Dave and Cousin Sarah were standing close as anyone, rocking slowly to the music. My uncle's hand rested in a spot on his daughter's bare back that I wouldn't dare reach for on a first date.

"I caught Cousin Debbie getting a little close with her brother before," I said.

"Uncle Chaim pinched my ass," Jennifer said.

"Seriously?"

"Can't make stuff like that up," Jennifer said, "Oh, and did you notice how Uncle Paul and Aunt Cassie spent the whole evening glued to Uncle Abe and Aunt Patrice?"

"They're totally swapping," I said, "There's no doubt."

It wasn't all that funny, but Jennifer laughed so hard her face went red and tears rolled down her cheeks. Like letting out weeks of tension all at once. She put her hand over mine and gave it a little squeeze.

"I wonder if incest runs in families," I said, idly.

"It would explain a good many things," Jennifer said.

We spent the rest of the night, sitting at the table together. At one point, we even got up and danced. Unlike our randy relatives, though, we stayed like proper siblings, giving plenty of distance. Playfully sniping at each other as we spun around on the parquet floors.

"Is it weird that I kind of enjoyed today?" Jennifer said, as we moved to the music.

"I guess it was OK," I said.

"I hate it when Mom is right," Jennifer said.

"It was only fun because you were here," I said. As soon as the words slipped past my lips, I regretted them.

But instead of freaking out as I feared she would, my sister simply leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Same."

*

Dad got the car from the valet and we all piled in. He eased out of the circular driveway and out onto the dark roads. Nothing was well lit out here. It felt like we'd travelled to an alternate dimension or gone backward in time.

"You should take off your sport coat," Jennifer said to me, "It's too hot for that in here."

I gave her an odd look but obeyed her request. I wrestled my way out of my jacket. With nowhere to put it, I left it on my lap. Jennifer reached over and smoothed the cloth till it covered my legs like a blanket.

Once she was satisfied, Jennifer slipped her hand under the coat and, in one swift movement, reached right for my crotch. I gasped.

"You two OK back there?" Dad asked.

"Fine," I croaked out.

Jennifer didn't even respond. She just started slowly dragging down my zipper. I hadn't been hard when I got in the car -- I was pretty whiskey-dicked to be honest -- but it didn't matter. As soon as my sister went for my cock it was hard as a rock. Jennifer wrapped her cool fingers around my dick and started to rub me.

I made another strangled sound. Like a choked-out groan.

"Hey Dad, how about some music?" Jennifer asked.

My father went to reach for the radio, but Mom stopped him.

"Actually," she said, "I want to talk to both of you." She turned around slightly in her seat. Jennifer didn't slow her stroking even a little bit. If anything, she gripped my dick even tighter. Thank God for sport coats and dark streets.

"I can tell you two aren't getting along," Mom said.

"Honestly we're..."

"Arguing all the time," Mom continued, "As if I didn't raise you two to get along. I know there's an age difference but you're brother and sister. You're supposed to be friends."

We were way more than that, based on how my sister was getting me off in the backseat of my parents' car.

"I know being on top of each other can be hard," Mom said.

"Very hard," Jennifer said.

"I know that your sister makes for a tight fit," Mom said.

"Very tight," Jennifer said.

"But you two have to work together to reach your goals. Give and take. Matthew?"

"Yes Mom," I said, my voice as throttled as if Jennifer had her hand around my neck rather than my penis.

"Your little sister is soft and sensitive," Mom said, "You can't just plow into her. You have to build her up slowly. She can be playful, yes, but you need to remember she's a young girl who's looking to her big brother to help her along. Jennifer?"

"Yes Mom?" Jennifer said.

"You need to trust your big brother. I know you like to be in control. But Matthew has a lot more experience than you and that means, sometimes, laying back and letting him take charge. Just hang on and enjoy the ride. OK?"

She eyed us both very seriously, awaiting our response.

"Understood," Jennifer said.

"Got it," I said.

Finally, my mother turned around. My Dad turned on the music. But my sister didn't speed her stroking. Instead, she kept a nice steady pace. Working my dick up and down. What started out as pure bliss became something a lot like torture. Boys are simple. We want to cum. Anything in between is nice, but we like to get to the grand finale.