Shear Pleasure

She began brushing my hair from one the side to the other. I could tell she was establishing a part on the left side. Not my usual style, but I could go with it. At least I promised myself that I wouldn't wince when she let me look in the mirror.

"Shame - I need to know. Why are you glad that I don't date other guys?" she asked.

Other guys? I thought. Why would she say other?

Now was not the time to be coy, I decided. Take the risk. Go straight to the heart of the matter.

"I think it might make me jealous," I admitted.

Emma stopped brushing. Suddenly, I felt her lean over and hug me from behind. It was quick but meaningful. Then she withdrew.

I still dared not open my eyes. The hair clippings were surely sprinkled generously all over my head, face and shoulders.

"Shame - earlier..." She paused. "Earlier you said your sister fetish was more than a physical attraction. What 'more' is there to it?"

"Sis," I said. "I don't think you want to go there..."

"Let me decide where I want to go, Shame..."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't just want to know, Shame. It's not idle curiosity. I need to know."

"Okay, Sis - here it is. Plain and simple. I've been thinking a lot about it. I've been kinda ashamed of myself, because I can't get you outta my head."

I felt a swish across my face. At first I thought Emma had tried to slap me and missed. But then I realized it was a feather duster, and she was getting the hair trimmings off of me.

"I wanna look you in the eye while you're talking 'bout this," she explained. "Gotta know whether you're messin' with me."

I opened my eyes to the sight of Emma's cleavage staring me straight in the face. I wisely averted my gaze up into her eyes.

"Not messin' with ya, Sis," I confirmed.

"And - what exactly are you not able to get out of your head?"

"I'd be lying if I said your hot bod wasn't a part of it. But it's way more than that."

"Way more?"

"Honestly? Yes. I've been thinkin' 'bout our entire lives. How you're - you're at the center of every happy memory."

"Awww, Shame. That's so... that's so sweet!"

Maintaining eye contact with me, she virtually radiated her own sweetness.

"And when I think about the future - well..." I said.

"Well - what?"

"When I think about what it would take to make my future happy - you're at the center of that, too."

Emma could no longer maintain eye contact. She looked down toward her shoes.

"Of course, dummy. I'm you're sister. I'll always be there for you." It was as if she was fishing for something.

"It's more than that," I said, pulling the Hefty bag off my torso and up over my head, dropping it on the floor. "When I think of the woman of my dreams, she's fantastically smart - like you. She's kind to small animals and moves spiders out of the way instead of squashing them - like you. She loves kids and old people - like you. She's funny and flirty and gets my lame jokes - like you. She has a beautiful smile that goes all the way to her eyes - like you. And she's not simply like you. She is you."

Emma surprised me by bursting into tears.

"Emma!" I said, standing up. I cradled her head on my shoulder. Her shoulders heaved with wracking sobs.

Oh, my god - I've freaked her out, I thought.

"Shhh, baby Sis. It'll be okay," I said. "I'm so, so sorry."

Emma sniffled the sobs to a stop. "Sorry?"

"Yeah, for freaking you out. I shouldn't have stepped across that line."

"Freaked me out? You've just made me the happiest girl on the planet!"

Emma smiled, and it reached her eyes. This was no counterfeit happiness. She hugged me fiercely, squeezing as if she'd never let me go.

My heart swelled with elation. And then something else began to swell. My erection was again immediate and massive. It poked Emma in the belly.

"Feels like somebody's happy to hear from me," she whispered breathily.

Emma reached between us and began to fondle my cock through my jeans. I cupped her ass through her shorts as we continued our hug. She looked up at me with a twinkle in her eye. I rubbed her nose with mine and smiled.

At that moment, I realized how much I wanted to kiss my sister. It wasn't just a physical response - it came from my entire being. I wanted the physical, the emotional, the spiritual connection.

She must have realized the same thing at the same time. Her gaze captured mine. My longing was reflected in her depths. We both leaned in, our lips a hairsbreadth away. Her breath was intoxicating. I closed the gap, initiating contact.

At first, it was a tender pressing of lips on lips. Our heads moved with a gentle persuasion that was mutual. My grip on Emma's shorts-clad ass pulled her closer and lifted her feet off the ground.

She gently released my cock and pulled me into her deep embrace with both arms. There'd be more time for passion later; at this moment, we just needed to express our heartfelt love.

Our kiss deepened. I felt light-headed and tingly. Our pulses moved into synchronization, two hearts melding into one. If the old sports adage was true that a tie was like kissing your sister, I suddenly wanted to tie every game I would ever play, from here to eternity.

The passion ignited and was soon fully ablaze - a wildfire out of control. Emma's tongue danced suggestively with mine. Her hot breath filled my lungs and my soul.

With her feet off the ground in our embrace, and as she leaned further into me, Emma's weight shifted onto mine at the point of contact. Ironically, her center of gravity was lodged completely on my fully burgeoning penis. Unfortunately, it was at her belly rather than somewhat lower.

I thrust into her belly and she giggled.

Coming up for air, she said, "Pretty bad aim there, Mister!"

I laughed and set her down on the floor.

"Got a better target in mind?" I queried.

"Soon," she said. "But first, I have a question for you."

She leaned her head on my shoulder, her hair cascading onto my arm. The feathery touch felt incredibly intimate.

"Okay, sure."

"Do you trust me, Shame?"

"What kinda question is that?"

"A serious one."

"Okay. Yes, absolutely. I can't imagine trusting anyone more."

"You didn't seem to trust me when I asked to cut your hair."

"Oh, that. Yeah, well, you'd never done it before."

"There are a lot of things I've never done before..."

She looked at me meaningfully.

"I, um - I could probably help you with them, too."

She grinned happily at me. Her eyes met mine, then something drew her attention slightly upward.

"And do you like it?"

We hadn't done anything but kiss and fondle up to now. I wasn't sure what she meant.

"Like what?" I asked in confusion.

"Your haircut, silly!"

I hadn't even remembered how this had started. I looked in the mirror. She'd actually done a pretty damned fine job.

"Yeah, you did a great job, Sis," I replied.

"But you didn't really trust me to," she pouted.

"All's well that ends well," I answered.

"Life is about the journey, not the destination," she said. "So I want to take you on a little journey of trust."

Now I was really confused.

"What'cha talkin' 'bout, Sis?"

"I have a little proposition for you."

"I'm starting to like the sound of this..."

"You might not when you hear me out..." She looked a bit uncertain. She literally chewed on her lower lip with her upper incisors.

"Anything - just ask."

"Really - anything?"

"Anything. I trust you."

"Let me shave you," she uttered.

"Um - okay. But I shaved pretty late this morning. See, no five o'clock shadow for me. Or whatever time it is now."

I primped a bit in the mirror and ran my hand along my smoothly shaven face.

"Shame - not there," she said, smirking.

"What?"

"Not there," she repeated. "I'm not talking about shaving your face."

The light bulb finally went on.

"Oh... you mean... down there."

Emma nodded.

"How d'ya know it's not already done?" I asked.

"Just a guess," she said. "Am I right?"

"Ummm... yeah. But - but why would you want to do that?"

"Partly because I want to feel my man skin-on-skin when he takes me. But mainly because I want to know that you trust me."

Part of me wanted to tell her she was a lunatic. But the way she spoke of me being "her man" and the implicit promise of her wanting skin-on-skin - not to mention taking her - was plenty of ammo to shoot down my internal defense mechanisms. My endorphins were firing to the max.

Besides, I really did trust her - even in something as crazy as this. And, to be frank, I was a little turned on that my baby sis appeared to have a kinky side.

"Okay, I'm in," I said.

*****

Emma was wearing nitrile gloves. She appeared to be treating this shave as a clinical exercise rather than a sexual one. The gloves were nitrile, not latex, since Emma was allergic to latex. Mom had bought a 50-pack at the pharmacy to give us an extra measure of COVID-19 safety when we picked up items that people outside the family may have touched. These days, that was limited pretty much to mail in the mailbox and deliveries from the grocery store.

We had checked the basement to make sure Mom and Dad were continuing their weekday work-at-home routine for the rest of the afternoon. Upon our return to Emma's bathroom, she locked the doors that provided entry from the hallway to both her bathroom and bedroom.

"Okay, Mister - time to drop 'em," she said gleefully.

"Just like that?" I asked.

"Just like that! Time for your manscaping!" Emma virtually squealed with delight. Her tits jiggled a bit as her body tremored with anticipation.

Eyes up, Shame, I chastised myself.

I unbuttoned the waistband and unzipped the fly of my jeans. Then I kicked off my flip-flops, aiming them in the general direction of the tub.

Pulling my jeans to the floor, I stepped out and left them in a heap. I was left standing in front of Emma in my boxer briefs and t-shirt.

My boner had deflated significantly with the trip to the basement and the prospect of a razor being in such close proximity. I momentarily worried that Emma would be disappointed with the big reveal. That gave me an idea.

"I may need some help with these," I said, tugging on the elastic band of my underwear.

Emma smiled a Cheshire cat grin.

"That can be arranged," she said.

She moved closer to me. Looking me in the eye, she grasped both edges of my underwear and slowly began to ease them down.

The eye contact was too much for me. My heart was doing backflips. I leaned in to kiss my sister once more, and she responded in kind. My cock began to quickly stir, hardening into a steel rod in seconds.

The elastic caught on my stiffy. Emma noticed the resistance and smiled. She pulled the elastic outward and eased my underwear downward to my knees. Still maintaining eye contact, she reached out and began to stroke my naked penis.

It wasn't the exceptional moment I'd envisioned for so long. Emma was wearing the nitrile gloves. It felt like the doctor was about to check me for a hernia and had lost his way.

"Um, Enny," I said, "maybe you shouldn't do that yet. Let's take care of business before pleasure."

For the first time, Emma broke eye contact and looked down at my dick. Her eyes grew wide. She licked her luscious lips.

"We can have both," she said matter-of-factly.

"Then, um - can you lose the gloves?"

Emma laughed and began removing the hospital-blue nitrile barriers to flesh-on-flesh contact.

They don't make nitrile condoms, do they? After all, she's allergic to latex. The devil on my left shoulder was getting the best of me with his questions and comments.

I pulled my boxer briefs all the way off and cast them aside. Emma reached for the scissors and began to clip my pubes. Despite the promise of pleasure, she was getting down to business first.

"You sure ya know what you're doin'?" I asked.

"Yep. You start by trimming the longer part, and then there are five more steps. I saw a video. You can find anything on YouTube."

"I didn't think they had adult content."

"It didn't actually show the guy's genitals," she laughed, "It just had him giving advice about products, mixed in with a few shots of him trimming and shaving other body parts."

"So you already have his products on hand? I didn't agree to this until today," I noted.

Emma blushed. It spread from her face to her ears and neck, all the way down to her upper chest. She turned away from me and lay the scissors by the sink. She picked up a loofah and began running warm water over it. She turned back to me.

"I might'a used 'em myself recently," she admitted.

I smiled at the mental image that statement conjured up.

She began to wash my cock and balls with the loofah. The warmth felt good. Her hand felt even better, as she moved my dick to the side while washing the bottom of my testicles.

"That's really nice," I sighed. I was hard once again.

"Mmmm," she agreed, giving me a little pump before tossing the loofah into the sink.

I looked over at the straight-edge razor lying on the counter.

"That's not a dull blade over there, is it?" I wasn't going to ask her if she'd used it on herself, but I did worry that she might be re-using it and hadn't thought about needing a sharp blade for me.

Emma laughed. "Correct. It's a brand, spankin' new Schick Quattro disposable. Four blades to reduce irritation. I still remember the quote from the guy on the video: 'Under no circumstances should you ever take a cheap razor to your jewels. If you do, you're asking to get cut.' Of course, I've got no jewels to speak of."

"I beg to differ, Enny. You have the crown jewels." I made a show of staring at her tits and then down at her crotch. She blushed again, even though fully clothed.

"Dork," she replied with a grin. "You know what I mean."

She turned and reached for a large plastic tube from the counter, leaving the blade where it rested.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Shave butter."

"Butter???"

"It's better than shaving cream, at least for the task at hand," she said, giving my cock another quick tug with said hand. "It's much better for sensitive skin."

I couldn't argue with the fact that this skin was sensitive. Sensitive to the touch. Aching with sensitivity.

Emma slathered the butter on my dick, my scrotum, and the rest of the surrounding general area.

This butter would make a really good lubricant, I thought. But hopefully there will be plenty of natural lubricant. My mind was straying to where I hoped we were headed.

Emma washed the shaving butter off her hands with hot water and anti-bacterial soap. I counted off 20 seconds with my internal metronome. We'd gotten into that habit in this COVID-19 world.

She reached for the Quattro and turned to me. She aped a maniacal grin, trying to throw me off balance.

"I don't believe for a second that you're out to hurt me," I said calmly.

She stuck out her tongue.

Yeah, you can use that on me if you want.

She missed my telepathy. She instead used the razor to start scraping off the remaining length of my pubes.

"Against the grain is key," she informed me.

Her work on the surrounding skin wasn't too scary, and I only had a small tuft of hair at the base of my cock. It was when she got to my balls that I nearly flinched.

"One wrong move and I'm having no kids," I clowned.

"Then you're safe. I want us to have kids," she said with sincerity.

Holy shit! I didn't know enough about genetics, but I'd heard plenty of jokes about inbreeding leading to birth defects in certain communities. Hell, the British royals were supposedly victims in centuries gone by.

Then I realized that she was holding me by the balls, with a very sharp object in the other hand. Not the time to argue.

"Good," I said, and let the matter drop.

When she finished shaving me, Emma tossed the razor in the garbage. She grabbed a washcloth from the closet and wet it in the sink, then returned and washed away the shaving butter and loose hairs. It took a couple of times rinsing and wiping until she was satisfied. Then she smeared the area with some moisturizing lotion and rubbed it in.

She knelt down and carefully examined her masterpiece.

"There! Smooth as a baby's behind!" she exclaimed.

She rubbed and fondled the smoothness of my entire pubic region. Of course, I was immediately and massively hard.

I put my hands on her shoulders and gently guided her face closer to my cock.

"I - I have a confession, Shame," she stammered, looking up at me.

"Yeah, baby Sis?"

"It's about my reasons for shaving you."

"Yeah, I know. You have trust issues. And you want to feel my skin on yours."

"Those are both true," she said. "But there's more."

"Like what?" I asked.

"I - I'd never seen or touched one before, other than in porn and those goofy diagrams in health class textbooks," she said, grasping my love tool. "I - I wanted a chance to see it up close and know what I'm in for, without the pressure to immediately perform, so to speak. I - I need to take this slow."

So she's a virgin. "Cool," I said.

"You're okay with that?"

"Yeah, Sis. We have all afternoon. And I have a confession, too."

"Uh-huh?"

She stood up, still holding my cock absent-mindedly in her hand. She leaned toward me, listening intently. I could feel her breath on my face. She looked concerned.

"Um, I'm a virgin, too."

"Really?" Her look of consternation broke into a smile. "I knew you never seemed to date the same girl twice. I just figured it was 'one and done' with each conquest. And I was so jealous of them."

I smiled at her admission.

"I tried to like a bunch of girls, but none of them held my interest long enough to even kiss goodnight. It wasn't until recently that I figured out it was because I was only interested in one girl. You."

"Oh, Shame!" Emma jumped into my arms and straddled my torso, wrapping her legs around my naked butt. The skin of her legs felt great, though I wanted skin-on-skin of another sort. But first things first.

"So, yeah, I'm a virgin. Of course, I whack off all the time," I quipped.

"To - to thoughts of me?" she asked with a blush.

"Daydreams, night dreams, wet dreams, you name it," I answered. "But no vacuum cleaners or one-handed texting."

Emma raised an eyebrow at me.

"I, uh," she said. "I - I sometimes play with myself, too. And lately I can only get off when I'm imagining myself with you. But I always knew I'd have to wait."

"Wait - for what?"

"Until I knew."

"Knew what?"

Emma dropped her legs to the ground and stood in front of me. "That I was in love with you."

"And how do you know?"

"I've known for a long time that I have really strong feelings for you, Shame. Feelings that sisters aren't supposed to have for their brother," she confessed. "But I realized that it's impossible to be 'in love' in a one-sided way. It takes 'we' to be 'in love' - otherwise you're just pathetic. I know I'm in love with you because it's mutual. It takes two to be in love. And I wasn't going to have sex with you just for the sport of it."

"It - takes two. That - that's what the dream was about!"

"What dream?"

I told her about last night's dream, including as many details as I could remember. When I was finished, she beamed and hugged me.

"I was always worried about anyone just wanting to get inside my panties and nothing more. I wanted it to be for love."