Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Una

Ann brushed my reddened, tear-streaked cheek, kissed my sweaty forehead lightly and tiptoed back to her bed. She was gone before I knew. I lay listening to the whispering tide as it swished outside our window.

I couldn’t sleep after my excitement. Every part of me was tingling. In a trance, I put a hand on my chest. The damp patch showed it hadn’t been a dream: my sister’s mouth had been there, minutes ago, my nipple glazed with her saliva.

Her bed creaked. I wanted to whisper, to ask if she, too, was unable to sleep, but Mum and Dad were in the next room. The walls were thin. I put a finger and thumb on the wetness of the t-shirt. Oh my God. I never knew a nipple could feel so nice. No one had ever told me.

I pressed a finger and thumb on the hard bud through the damp t-shirt. My body reacted instantly. A flush started somewhere behind the ears, seeped into my cheeks, trickling down to warm my neck.

I relaxed my grip, astonished by the chorus of tingles. I squeezed again, cautiously, lightly — not expecting that strange response to be repeated. I’d never touched my nipple before — anyhow, not like that, pressing it sinfully between finger and thumb.

The reaction was so intense, I snatched my hand away as I squirmed in reflex action. Lying perfectly still, I tried to make sense of the combination of pulses that throbbed within me.

Slowly, the surging heat between my legs became an ache. I parted my thighs and raised my knees, then slipped a hand down. A curious middle finger traced the puffy lips. Suddenly it slipped between the soft segments. Inside was hot and slippery, but it was magic. A silken fairy elixir enticed my finger to further exploration.

I felt the raised dot Ann had fingered earlier. It was stiff, snuggling under the slick folds of my inner self. I parted the fleshy layers. Just a passing brush was enough.

The body music started again. Delicious sensations were simmering everywhere. I placed a hand on my chest and caught the nipple in a finger and thumb. I squeezed hard, then harder. How hard I could go before it became painful?

This was incredible. The finger between my legs seemed to have frozen all feeling in the nipple. And yet it was alive — and tingling. I pressed firmly into the juiciness down below.

Oh God! Pressing the dot between my legs harder only seemed to animate the nipple. The two were interconnected: the nipple and the secret bump floating in its magic elixir were sending unseen messages, urging each other to greater heights. No one had ever told me about this, not Mags, not Ellie, not Ann.

I stayed absolutely still. Ann’s bed creaked. I listened intently: she wasn’t asleep. For ages I lay quietly, hoping she’d think me asleep. I didn’t want her to know I was touching myself like this. I knew that this was the sin the nuns had warned us about.

My thoughts turned to Hell. I tried to stop. But the enchanted place held my finger like a magnet. Ann’s bed creaked again. And then I heard it: that distinctive sound she made. It was a barely audible sigh, almost a whimper. Then another sigh and a sudden intake of breath.

I was concentrating so much on the sounds from Ann’s bed that I hadn’t noticed how my fingers had started moving again — faster now. The right finger was circling, like a tiny machine out of control.

My t-shirt had ridden up. My fingers were squeezing the nipple, twisting, like tuning a radio. Oh my God, I can’t stop. Something out of this world had captivated me. There was another sigh. It was mine. My head tossed on the pillow, trying to escape the intensity of these sensations.

Something touched my forehead. Ann’s cool hand was calming, drawing me back to reality. She put her lips to my ear and hissed, “For Christ’s sake, Una! Be quiet or Mother will come!”

The moon through thin curtains showed her silhouette. Dim white light caught the contour of her bare breasts. She was only wearing knickers.

She leaned over, hand under the bedclothes. When she caressed my tummy it was reassuring. For a moment I thought I’d been having a dream. Then she was crouching at the bedside, asking, “Are you all right?”

I whispered, “Yes.” Suddenly, we seemed so close, my sister and me. It was as though, here, in this secret darkness, we were one and the same person.

Her hand moved lower, below my belly button. We were silent. She stroked my lower tummy. It began to tickle — rather, to tingle rather than tickle. The intense sensations that had made me swoon earlier were back in force.

The moving hand went lower. It reached the bump — my legs opened. I didn’t tell them to open, they seemed to have a mind of their own. I was amazed. What if I had told them not to part, would they have obeyed? I wanted to be in control, but wasn’t.

Ann’s palm was cupping the puffy lips of my sex. She put her mouth to my ear. “Did you get satisfaction, then?” she asked. As she spoke, her finger slipped into the wet cleft. Oh God. I squirmed like a trapped animal.

I said yes. I didn’t know what she meant, but at that instant I was wonderfully satisfied.

Ann whispered once more. “I didn’t — I didn’t get satisfaction. Not yet.”

She had taken my hand from under the bedclothes. The dim moonlight showed a thumb hooked in the waistband of her knickers, tugging them down. She widened her legs and guided my hand. I knew now what she meant by satisfaction.

Her knees bent against the bed. I was up on an elbow. She took my finger, steering it into her unseen thatch. The hair was sparse and silky, the sudden heat of her a shock.

My finger was squelching in her warm wetness. She was pushing it deeper into the juicy hole, until it could go no further. She held it there as she began to move her hips. They were rotating. Ann was working herself on my finger.

And then she stopped with a sudden shudder. She breathed deeply and sighed once. We stayed there, transfixed, my hand trapped between her clenched thighs. She gave another sigh, then bent to kiss me — and then she was gone.

*****

When my sister Ann and I headed to the dunes next morning, neither mentioned the night before. It was as though nothing had happened. Perhaps it hadn’t, it had been a dream, I thought. Mother was babbling while no one listened, Father was reading a book, Ann was staring out at the mountains sweeping down to the sea, blue in the far distance. Her eyes didn’t meet mine.

Was it all a dream — or had it been real and was she now immersed in shame or regret?

Although we’d been like two peas in a pod since childhood, there were some things she was unable or unwilling to talk about. I was never sure if it was simply because she thought, at two years younger, I was too juvenile, or that she had dark secrets she was unwilling to reveal.

She sat in the window seat, her face inscrutable, staring into space. I’d have given anything to see into her mind, to ask if she’d really regretted last night. I didn’t.

Ann walked ahead as we stepped onto the beach. Viewed from the back, there was something marvellously attractive about her perfect shoulders and long, light brown hair. I loved her hair — always fresh, with a hint of the apple-fragrant shampoo we used. It smelled different on her.

We were wearing sun-dresses, swim-suits under. It was too cold for the sea, too overcast for sunbathing, but we were prepared in case it changed. Ann swung the bulky shoulder-bag holding our picnic rug, snacks, drinks, towels and fresh undies, in case we had a swim.

She flopped down on the sheltered side of a high dune with a view of the empty beach and mountains. I followed suit. In the distance, we could see Mary and her mother approaching across the wide, flat, deserted beach. Ann and Mary had struck up a friendship two days earlier. They were both fourteen. They tried to exclude me because I was only twelve, at least that’s how it felt.

Mary sat beside us in the sand. Her mother said hello and went some distance off, setting up an easel and art pad to sketch. Mary chattered aimlessly. She was like her mother, I thought — empty-headed. I wanted to tell her to shut up, to go away, but Ann seemed delighted she had joined us.

I needed to talk to Ann, to steer the conversation to the events of last night. There were so many questions I had to ask.

Mary’s presence made me angry. I didn’t want a really serious talk with Ann — just a few words to reassure me about what happened between us. In my mind, I could still feel that special wetness, the silken-smooth hair between her thighs. Did I really hear her sigh as she squirmed on my hand, showing me where to touch, pressing my finger into her sinfully moist folds?

The sun came out. We took our dresses off and lay out, worshipping the radiant heat. Mary took off her polo shirt and shorts, lying back in her undies. She looked disgusting. Her bosom was too large for the bra she wore, and her tummy bulged over the top of faded, baggy knickers.

I disliked her. She was an intruder, and yet my eyes were drawn to the rounded form where her tummy met her legs. I wondered if she was like Ann down there — wispy and soft. I dragged my thoughts away. Why did I have to be so curious? What did it matter how Mary looked? I gazed out to sea.

My mind was racing, filled with unimportant thoughts about Mary and her mother. I desperately wanted not to think about last night, when Ann and I had touched each other in the dark, still bedroom.

I excused myself and walked down the deserted beach, collecting shells, paddling in the tide’s edge. The feelings of last night had melted away. I didn’t need Ann, I decided, not that way. Yes, it was nice to have her as a sister, to be with her, close to her. But I didn’t need to do the sort of things we’d done last night — not with her, not with anyone, not even with myself. Ann and Mary could chat until dark for all I cared. I was perfectly content to be on my own.

Here, in the morning sun, with a pleasant breeze wafting on my bare legs, the idea of touching someone like that seemed strange. I should really forget it all.

I collected some shells. Not many. I had nothing to carry them in.

Finally, I made my way back to the dunes. Mary was leaving, brushing sand from her legs, bent low. Her cleavage revealed that her bust was not that large after all. Who cares? I thought.

We opened our snacks, had a drink. Ann’s mood had changed with the arrival of the sun. She said she was sorry, that she hadn’t meant to sulk at breakfast. I pretended she had nothing to apologise for.

We lay silently. I needed some way to open the conversation, to ask about last night. I pointed to a plume of white smoke on the far mountains. We speculated about it. Casually, I asked if she had cramps. She’d had them before, bad enough to stay off from school. Mum kept her in bed with a hot water bottle.

Ann said no, that it wasn’t her time to have cramps. She was using her grown-up voice. I posed a few related queries about how her friends were affected by them. I already knew. She’d told me before, in whispers. But I was stalking my sister, taking her down a path I suspected she didn’t want to go.

I said I thought she’d had tummy pains last night, late. I’d heard her moan. She flicked a towel at me. We both laughed. The ice was broken. I pressed on. “Well, you were moaning!”

She laughed again, then called me a little bitch. Between us, it was a term of endearment. Mother would have been apoplectic if she’d heard. To her, bitch was an expression worse than one of those really rude words in Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which Mags and I had partially read — the naughty parts, anyhow — up the field one afternoon.

I fixed my gaze on Ann’s sparkling green eyes. They were her most unusual feature: Dad’s eyes. They didn’t match the rest of her. But they were beautiful beyond words when they flashed. She was flashing them now, projecting her smile with the intensity of a theatre spotlight.

Suddenly, the sun seemed warmer, the day brighter. The clouds over the mountains had drifted away and the sky was cobalt blue. I brushed loose sand from my legs and moved closer to her. Ann jumped up quickly. She was going for a dip — was I coming?

She took my hand as we rushed into the ice-cold water. I guessed it had been her way of cutting short our chat. She was so nice to me — and yet there was that gap between us. We were so close. We used to be able to talk about anything. But now, sometimes, she treated me like a child.

We were shivering when we reached the dunes again. Mary and her mother had gone. A lone car at the far end of the beach was the only other sign of human life.

Ann was towelling herself vigorously, teeth chattering as she faced away from the breeze. I dabbed myself dry. My wet shoulders and legs were cold, but I was happily immune. An inner heat was present that warmed me from within.

Ann took down her top, patting breasts and tummy dry, shielded from the chill breeze — and my hungry gaze. Her back was perfect, long and willowy. I could see vertebrae under smooth skin as she stooped. She was nature’s perfect creature. I knew I would never look like that.

When she turned, it seemed as if we’d stepped back in time to when we bathed together years ago. But she had changed, and so had I. This was not how it had been in the past, when we’d frolicked naked before bed.

As she wriggled, struggling free of the wet swimsuit, her full form was displayed — from pink buds on upturned breasts, to the dark triangle where a flat belly met her long legs.

I don’t know how long I stared at her. We both stood transfixed. The beetroot blush on my cheeks had spread to my throat. I was glad Ann couldn’t see my other parts. The tight, damp crotch of my swimming costume was uncomfortable and hot. This was all so new to me.

Ann transfixed me with her gaze. She looked so composed, two hands behind her head like a young Greek goddess, holding back wet hair. Her breasts were pushed forward, as if flaunting the allure of the rosebuds that were her nipples.

“You look scared,” she said at last. “You’d think you’d never seen me without clothes, Sissy.”

It was just one word, but it changed the scene. Ann hadn’t called me Sissy for ages. It was a pet name, used by no one but us. Sea-birds were wheeling and crying. The breeze died, shifting away from the mountains, becoming warm breath bearing the tangy scent of the Mother God of the Sea.

Ann staggered sideways, struggling on the shifting sand to step into her knickers. We giggled. Then her undies were sliding over her hips. It was like a slap on the face for me. This was not at all what I thought would happen. She was getting dressed. Had I read too much into the display of her nakedness?

She picked up her tennis shirt, shook sand from it and stretched it above her head. As she was about to pull it on I found my voice.

“Let’s sit down for a while,” I said, trying to sound off-hand. I really wanted to say, before you get fully dressed, but hadn’t the nerve.

Wordlessly, still topless, Ann shook the big tartan rug and spread it out neatly. I lay beside her, hardly daring to believe that this might lead to something intimate. My ache was intense. I had a hunger for something I couldn’t explain. I wanted Ann to hug me, that was all. Wasn’t it?

We lay with our hips touching. I was still in my wet bathing suit. The outside had been sun-dried, but the heat of the day and the closeness of my sister had it wet inside instead.

“Why don’t you get out of that suit?” Ann said, casually as anything. “I bet you’d feel better without it. Don’t worry — if anyone approaches, we’ll see them long before they’ll see us.”

Without a word, I sat up. Ann undid the halter-neck. I knelt up on the rug and struggled out of the clinging discomfort. I lay with a towel covering from waist to knees. I was breathing hard — I hoped Ann thought that was from the exertion of removing the swimsuit.

We were being bold as brass, stretched bare-breasted beside each other. But I wanted to be bold! It made me feel so free, so alive.

I glanced sideways. Ann’s buds were like raised pink buttons. Oh my God. A rush of sinful thoughts seared through me, flooding like a torrent into my swollen valley. Some devil’s urge made me want to touch one of Ann’s nipples, to smother it in kisses.

The sun was scorching. Ann rolled towards me. She pulled the side of the tartan rug over her upper body. I turned to face her. She covered mine as well, protecting us both from the burning rays.

We put our arms around each other — it was the most convenient way to lie. But this was about more than comfort or convenience. My arms were around Ann’s neck, drawing her face towards mine.

Her fingers were stroking my back, sending shivers along the spine. We hugged tight and wriggled closer. Her bare breasts pressed the swellings on my own chest. Soft and warm, this naked embrace was making me simmer down below. I raised my knee, pushing it against her closed legs, pressing upwards to part her thighs. It was instinct, pure and simple. I wanted to know if she was simmering too, like a juicy, aromatic casserole spreading an appetising aroma.

Suddenly, Ann was pushing me away. We parted, our faces inches apart, breathing as though we’d been playing tennis rather than hugging. She looked at me with troubled eyes. I wanted to agree with her when she said, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

It was the whispered suffix which betrayed her, showed that she didn’t mean what she said. Just one word, moaned in a plaintive voice — “Sissy.”

Then my head was gripped with frantic intensity. She was twisting it, drawing in close, guiding my lips to hers.

When it came, the kiss was more than a kiss. Her tongue entered my mouth like a dart. The tip circled my gums, dancing, exploring inside, settling into languid, deep, penetrating thrusts, repeated again and again.

I’d never been kissed like this. Mags had given me a passionate kiss, shown how lovers fenced with their tongues. It had been thrillingly new. But this was beyond anything she and I had done, beyond anything I could have imagined.

Sis sucked my lower lip, then bit playfully, nibbling like a rabbit. Without even thinking, I was returning her kisses, my tongue joyfully engaging with hers.

As we kissed, Ann stroked my tummy. A finger poked my belly button playfully, symbolically attempting penetration. Then her hand slowly moved lower. When it cupped my mound I jumped, startled at the intimate touch.

She put her lips to my ear. “I love you, Sissy.” I couldn’t reply. I was overwhelmed by affection for her and with the excitement that we had discovered, for this wonderful, special way we now knew to make each other happy.

I could feel it arriving, the Yellow Brick Road stretched ahead. Happiness was down there, and I was speeding ahead, breathless. Her hand pressed between my legs, opening a way for the finger I knew was going to follow.

The picnic rug rose as my knees went up, legs parting wide. When Ann’s finger swept into the wetness, I wanted to squeal with pleasure. Carefully, tenderly, she explored my childish slit. Her finger squelched, and squelched again, moving around until it touched the little man in the boat.

Every muscle in my body froze from the ecstatic effect. I was paralysed with pleasure. Nowhere else existed but this magical place where Sissy’s finger was circling my pink pearl. I knew then that for the rest of my life I’d be unable to go without this sweet intoxication.

Licking my earlobe, Ann whispered: “I want to satisfy you. Will we do it together?”

“Yes,” I breathed. She put my hand on her breast, placing a finger on her stiffened bud. I teased it with my middle finger, marvelling at its springy firmness.

Ann sighed — and sighed again. At another time, these could have been the sounds of boredom or unhappiness. But I knew now that her sighs were a song of pleasure. I was giving her the same deep thrills that were pulsing through me. I felt so close to her. It was as if my body and hers were one, as if our secret hunger was similar as the facial characteristics we shared as siblings.

Suddenly she drew away. For a moment I thought someone was approaching. But her hands were under me, raising my bottom, moving me to the centre of the rug.

She rolled on top, tugging her baggy knicks down her thighs in a one-handed frenzied move. Even that was erotic. This frantic lowering of her pants, her need to bare her downy cleft — it amazed me.

Our eyes met as she struggled into position. With palms on my hips, she lowered her mound until it was touching mine. Oh my God. This is so wicked — our bare cunnies are touching! She pressed into me again — harder this time.

My arms were around her neck. Her thigh went between mine. We rolled sideways, delirious, our legs meshing like scissors. Soft, silk hairs pressed against my naked cleft. My mouth found hers. I was sucking her lip, as she had done with mine.

Her pushing got harder. Each thrust sent a wave of electricity rippling through me.

My sister was in the throes of manic passion. She was clutching my bottom, a hand on each cheek, drawing me towards her with each shove. “You bitch, you lovely, teasing bitch, Sissy.” Her voice was fierce, yet sweetly tender. “I love you. You know that. You make me want to creep inside you — to be part of you always.”

The moisture between us would have been uncomfortable if we hadn’t been distracted by our passion. I felt at one with Ann as our secretions merged. Some had oozed into my groin as we writhed in loving affection. Years later, what I would remember most of all was the wetness of our embrace.

Ann’s strangled cries brought me back to earth. She was transfixed, her soft, puffy peach pressing hard on mine, motionless. I felt her shiver uncontrollably. Sighing, she whispered: “I love you, Una. I really, really love you, Sissy. Forever and always.”

We lay together in silence for several minutes. I could feel her soft breasts heaving against my bumps as Ann slowly got her breath under control. My tingles had gone. Her excitement had been enough to satisfy me.

My skin felt sticky when Ann rolled off. I closed my eyes. The sound of the seabirds and hissing, gentle waves reflected my magical mood.

I never wanted this moment to end.

I opened my eyes to the tickling on my forehead. Ann was leaning over, twirling a long piece of marram grass, teasing me. I remembered that I was still naked and hastily wrapped the rug around me. Her hand slipped underneath, cupping a budding breast, stroking the pale pink nipple with a slow, gentle finger.

I turned towards her. She leaned down to kiss me. Her voice was a barely audible. “I want you to be satisfied, too, Sissy. I’m sorry I was so selfish.”

I knew instantly what she meant. I no longer needed it explained in words. I had felt her being satisfied, shared her exquisite bliss as her naked body writhed against mine.

Now her hand was between my legs, travelling an open road into that special place where the fleshy pearl was to be found. My ache had returned. That inexplicable hunger had me in its grip. I needed to be touched, but was frightened of the intensity her touch would bring.

I wanted to study these things, to stay in control and observe what happened. But Ann was driving me headlong down the road to beautiful madness, determined to whirl me into space where I could share her experience. She wanted to satisfy me, the way I had satisfied her.

When she penetrated me, I felt shock. Not at her finger pressing into the opening, but the way that part of her body had entered mine so easily. One minute, the finger was dancing in the folds of my overflowing desire. The next, it had slipped inside.

She wriggled it into my entrance, creating the most delicious stretching sensation I’d ever known. It went deeper, deeper into the secret tunnel as if pathfinding for a future visit.

Ann shifted nearer. Lowering her face to my chest, she drew a nipple into her mouth and suckled, her tongue swirling around the tiny, incredibly sensitive bud. She purred with pleasure as she nursed from me. I felt like the most sinful girl in the world as I arched my back, thrusting my chest into her face.

Her finger was pleasuring me with slow caresses. At another time, I would have been embarrassed at the distinctively wet sounds it made. But the squishing only raised my hunger to new heights. My magic spring was overflowing.

Her voice was in my ear. “Let it go, Sissy… let it go! Let me take you somewhere only women can go.”

I was shivering, shaking, shuddering — my senses seem to have been invaded by some alien force. My head was thrashing from side to side. I wanted this to stop. I longed for it to go on forever. It was too much to accept, too powerful for any human to cope with.

Suddenly I was crying. Not sobbing tears of sorrow or hurt or anger or frustration, but weeping with joy and the sense of fulfillment that only a woman can give  to another. It would be years before I knew the word orgasm, years before I was challenged by a male who, to boost his ego, aggressively wanted to know if I’d “come.”

But what did it matter? Here in the secret place, with my soulmate sister, she’d taught me what satisfaction meant. I’d shared my satisfaction with her. We didn’t need any other word for it.

In later years, women who spoke to me of coming, or getting off, of orgasms and climaxes, would scoff at the simple childish word which my sister and I used to describe our sexual and emotional gratification. But it suited us — and it seemed appropriate for our relationship, which we thought was unique.

Continue on to Chapter 5

By GrandMoff

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

My name is Bara Kokovinis. I live in a little town called Rich Bar, in northern California. I’m American, with heritage that is mostly Japanese (my mom’s side) and Greek (my dad’s side.) I’m slim and petite, with long black hair which I usually wear up and light brown eyes. I’ll be seventeen in October.

Drawing and painting have been my favorite activities since I was seven or eight years old. Art requires concentration and solitude. I spent a lot of time alone — pencil, brush, or pen in hand. Some people called me strange, but it was how I had to work.

By the time I was thirteen, I drew people — women, men, girls, boys — more than anything else. But I noticed that my art wasn’t improving, and I grew frustrated. I wanted to be much better than I was.

I was sixteen when I decided I had to have a model. It was a dilemma. I didn’t have enough money to pay for one. I didn’t dare ask one of my few friends to do it.

My art teacher, Ms. Wallace, noticed my despondent attitude. At first I didn’t tell her what was wrong, but she insisted. She promised that she would keep it to herself, so I leveled with her. That turned out to be a great move, because she had a great solution. She said she had a few friends who modeled and would be happy to pose for me free of charge, though only for an hour or two per week.

“Oh, Ms. Wallace, thank you so much!” I told her.

“You’re welcome, but there still may be a problem. I met these friends in college, and they live in Chico.”

“But I… I can’t get to Chico,” I said quietly.

“Sure you can; I’ll take you,” Ms. Wallace said cheerfully. “If your parents will let you go, of course.”

“Oh, I couldn’t accept–”

“Please, come with me. I want to see your art improve and I want to help you.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone. I know I shouldn’t have a favorite, but I do. You’re it.”

“Ms. Wallace, thank you. I mean it, thank you.”

*****

Saturday morning saw me in the passenger seat of Ms. Wallace’s sturdy F-150. I was grinning, and she caught me off-guard with her sudden statement. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you,” she said.

“I am happy, Ms. Wallace, very happy!”

“Call me Korrina, okay?”

“Korrina? Your first name’s Roberta, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I don’t like it. Korrina’s my middle name, and it’s much better.”

“You said you’ve gotten a friend to agree to model for me? Who is she, Korrina? What’s she like?”

“Her name’s Rose–”

I giggled.

“What?” my teacher asked.

“It’s a coincidence. My name is the Japanese word for Rose.”

“That’s a coincidence, all right. Bara means Rose? Cool, I didn’t know that.”

“Sorry I interrupted,” I said. “Tell me about her.”

“Let’s see… she’s my age, 28. She’s over 5’7″ tall, and thin enough to make me envious. She’s an artist herself; quiet, but with an easy smile. I think she’ll like you a lot.”

“She doesn’t mind posing for someone as young as I am?”

“Not at all. She was in your position once.”

*****

Ms. Wallace took me to Chico every two weeks. It was great. She had three friends who took turns modeling for me: Rose, Sandra, and Aevry. I liked all of them. They and Ms. Wallace were fun to be with and they loved treating me to cake or pie and tea. My art improved, and so did my self-confidence. I was a bit embarrassed at the beginning, drawing a girl who was standing before me without a stitch of clothing — which is kind of backwards, I suppose! — but they quickly put me at ease.

*****

My sister Ame lived in an apartment in Paradise, but returned to my parents’ house nearly every weekend. She’s twenty, and a very private person, so I was surprised when I was drawing in my room one Saturday and heard her knock. I let her in and she sat across my table, in a comfortable old oak chair. She was in the mood to talk.

“Wow, that’s nice,” she praised, referring to the drawing I was making, a picture of a smiling young woman holding an umbrella.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Much better than a year ago.”

“Thanks,” I said again.

“What have you done to improve so much, Bara?” she asked casually.

“Just working harder, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Ame,” I said, looking her in the eyes, “I’m losing my concentration. Could you please talk about something else?”

“I’m sorry. Something else, then. Mom tells me you’re gone every other Saturday for several hours. Where are you going?”

“Just… out with friends,” I answered as calmly as I could.

“A guy, maybe?”

“No,” I laughed, “not a guy. I just go out — you know — talk, have pie, drink tea, that kind of thing.”

“Well, good for you,” Ame said. “You’ve changed, for the better. You’re happier and more assertive.”

“Am I?”

“Sure you are.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I’ll have to meet your friends some time.”

I was tired of playing defense. “I’d like to meet some of yours too,” I said. “When are you going to let me come visit you at your apartment?”

“Suppertime, girls!” our dad called from downstairs.

*****

The school year was nearly over, so I asked Ms. Wallace if our next trip to Chico would be the last.

“No way!” she said. “I’m too selfish; I like being with you too much to stop our expeditions. And so do Aevry, Rose, and Sandra.”

I blushed. “Thank you. I love being with all of you.”

So our visits to the city continued through the summer. My art looked nothing like it had a year ago. I grew closer to Korrina, Rose, and the others. Sometimes we’d go shopping or swimming, or to the tennis courts after the modeling sessions. I was having the time of my life.

But nothing goes smoothly forever.

It was a Saturday morning in late July. I was riding with my eyes closed, enjoying the smell of the trees and the feel of the wind. Then I felt Korrina take a turn we hadn’t taken before. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Time for a little bad news,” my teacher said with a sigh. “Aevry called me yesterday. Her brother-in-law was killed in a car accident and she’s going to the funeral today.”

“That’s terrible,” I said.

“Oh, not really — Aevry and I hated him. She’s just going to support her sister. The guy cheated on her all the time, but she loved him.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Oh,” I muttered.

“But don’t worry about it, Bara,” Ms. Wallace said quickly. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t trying to bring you down. Anyway, none of that is the real point.”

“It’s not?” I was a little confused.

“There’s good news too, and that’s the point. Aevry called a friend of hers who agreed to model in her place. That’s why we turned early.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I don’t know her very well, but she’s beautiful and seems really nice. She’ll be a great model, I think.”

“How’s Aevry’s sister?” I asked.

“Not so good. We think she’ll get over it, though.”

“Does she have any children?”

“No — he wasn’t able to — well, let’s leave it at ‘No.’ It’s probably a good thing that they didn’t have kids; it would be hard on them. She’s said before that she wants children, but — damn! I think I just missed our turn!”

“Oops,” I said. “I’ll be quiet so you can concentrate.”

“Ah!” Korrina said triumphantly. “I didn’t overshoot after all. Here it is.”

In seconds, we were parked in front of a large yellow three-story house. I grabbed my stuff and Korrina led me into the building and up the steps to the top floor. She knocked. I felt a bit nervous, but excited.

A woman opened the door. I nearly dropped my bag.

“Hi,” Ms. Wallace said.

“Ame!” I said.

“Bara!” she said, just as shocked.

“You two know each other?” Ms. Wallace asked.

“Yes, we–”

“Not very well,” I interrupted. “But we get along when we do see each other. Still… are you sure you don’t mind posing for me, Ame? I mean, I’m sure you have other things to do.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she said, mischief suddenly appearing in her eyes. “Surprised though I am, it’s really good to see you.”

I was suspicious. “It’s nice to see you too,” I answered warily.

“What kind of poses were you looking for?” Ame asked. “I’m new to this; I’m afraid you’ll have to direct me.”

“Should I leave?” Ms. Wallace asked. I’d forgotten she was there!

“No need, please stay,” my sister requested smoothly. “Do what you like — I have movies, books, magazines.”

“I brought my own. Thanks,” Korrina said. She pulled a paperback from her purse and sat on a padded chair near the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

This was a strange situation, but I was here to work on my art. “Could you show me around so I can judge the light and the settings?”

“Certainly.”

After the brief tour, I decided that the living room, with its large south-facing windows, would work the best. “Okay, this spot is quite suitable,” I pronounced. “Let’s try a lying pose first; you may want to use a few of those throw pillows for comfort.”

“Good thinking.” Ame collected four of them and set them on the carpet. She paused very briefly. She opened her robe and shrugged it from her shoulders in one smooth motion.

The last time I had seen Ame naked, I’d been five or six years old. She blew away all my other models. Her flawless skin was a shade darker than mine, with no tan lines. Under that perfect skin were strong, firm muscles. Her wavy black hair fell past her shoulders and gleamed with health. She had no body hair, so all her skin could be seen. Her hips weren’t wide or narrow; they were just very nice to look at. And her chest? I’m a little taller than she is, but she’s always had larger breasts. For the first time, I saw how much larger. They were true D-cups or maybe even a tad bigger, and shaped exquisitely. Her areolas and nipples were large and dark brown, very pretty.

Could this goddess possibly be my sister?

I wanted to stare, but this wasn’t the time. Once I had pencil in hand, I could look all I liked. And from all angles. I was going to have fun that day!

But what was I thinking? This was my sister! Gorgeous, but should I look at her as anything other than my sister? Wasn’t it wrong to feel pleasure from looking at her body, no matter how beautiful it was?

On the other hand, she’d offered to be my model. If she had no objection, why should I? I did want to improve. And she was the ideal subject.

I looked at her as objectively as I could. I put guilt out of my mind.

I started sketching.

I had her take six poses in all. I kept drawing.

“Bara, it’s been almost two hours,” Ms. Wallace said suddenly.

I couldn’t believe it, and Ame looked startled by the revelation also. But it was true. I had 21 sketches, all of excellent quality. The time had flown past.

My sister put on her robe. “Let me make you some tea before you go,” she offered.

“Korrina?” I asked.

“Sounds good,” my teacher said.

We talked idly before Korrina and I set off for Rich Bar. Just before we left, Ame let me know that this was anything but over. She said, “We’ll have to talk when I see you next, Bara. I want to know you better than I do.”

I didn’t think it would be long before I saw her again. I was right. Less than an hour after Ms. Wallace had dropped me off at home, I heard the front door open and close. Then she knocked at the door to my room. “Come in, Ame,” I said, sounding as bored as I could.

She entered and shut the door.

“You got so much better. Now I know how,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uncertainty, I guess. I didn’t know what you’d think. But I know now, don’t I?”

“You have to let me see them!” she said, grinning evilly.

“They aren’t ready; they’re only sketches until I can finish them and turn them into–“

“Come on. I was the model; you owe me.”

“No way. Rose never makes any demands.”

“I’m not Rose.” Ame leaned nearer, her face a few inches from mine. “What’s the harm? Let me see.” She took the sketchbook from my suddenly weak hands.

“Wow! They’re very nice. You’ve made me look so beautiful,” she said, and I could tell she meant it. I blushed, which only embarrassed me more.

“I drew what was there and no more,” I said. “If they’re beautiful, it’s because you are.” She looked happy to hear it, not shocked. I went on. “Aevry is quite good-looking. So are Rose and Sandra. But they don’t compare to you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I never noticed just how beautiful you are.”

“I’ll model for you again, if you’d like,” Ame offered. She gently took my hand and lifted it, touching each finger in turn. “I never noticed how much skill was in this hand of yours.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t want Korrina to know we’re sisters; care to tell me?”

I had to think, unsure of my own motives. “I don’t know. When I saw you, I thought — it seemed smarter to tell her when I was ready. Not right away.”

Ame looked askance at me for a moment. “Tell her when you’re ready, then. In the meantime, give me an answer. Do you want me to model for you again or not?”

“Of course I do.”

*****

Ame picked me up the next Friday and took me to Paradise and posed for me. She had rearranged some of the lights in her apartment, so the lighting was better this time around. She had moved some of the furniture too, I noticed. I drew sketches of her for more than two hours.

When we ended the session, I made tea for us and we started talking. I felt closer to her than I ever had. “I truly appreciate this,” I told her. “I’ll bet it’s hard, stripping for your kid sister.”

We both laughed. “No!” she said. “We are sisters, so I know I’m safe with you. Besides, I’m proud of my body. Showing it to an artist is satisfying.”

“Hm,” I mused, “if I had a body like yours, I’d probably like showing it off too.”

“What was that?” Ame asked slyly.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” I said, turning red. “You’ve always turned heads. You said you’re proud of your body and you should be.”

“That’s sweet,” she said.

I prepared myself to ask what I’d wondered for a while. I cleared my throat and began. “It’s none of my business, but do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?” Ame’s eyes widened. “No, I don’t. I thought you would’ve talked to Aevry about me…”

“If I have a question about you, it’s you I’m going to ask,” I said. “I hate gossip.”

“Good for you; that’s rare among girls your age.” Ame took a deep breath. “Mom and Dad won’t like it, so please don’t tell them.”

I nodded.

“Aevry used to be my lover.”

I tried not to let my shock show. “Really? I mean, you and Jeremy–”

“I’m sorry to spring it on you, Bara-chan,” Ame said quietly, using the Japanese ending she’d used for me when we were kids. “I shouldn’t have blurted it like that, but I couldn’t think of a better way. Jeremy’s just a good friend; he always has been. I didn’t want to get harassed in high school, so he agreed to fake being a couple with me. There’s no need to pretend anymore. Since he moved to Oregon, we haven’t seen each other in quite a while.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “I mean, I had no idea!”

“Please don’t be mad. I’m the same Ame you’ve always known.”

“I’m not mad at all. But, it’s weird, I mean — I never guessed!”

“I wanted to tell you many times,” my sister said. “I was scared that I’d freak you out.”

“Give me a hug, Ame-chan,” I said.

I hugged her and she lightly held me. I wrapped my arms more tightly around her and she got the hint and hugged me normally, like she always had. “You’ll always be my big sister and I’ll always love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too,” she breathed.

We drew apart. I passed her a box of tissues and she wiped her face.

When she got her composure, she smiled at me. “You’re the best,” she said.

“You aren’t off the hook, you know,” I laughed. “You said Aevry ‘used to be’ your lover. What happened?”

“Seriously?” Ame asked. “We didn’t have enough in common, I guess. She doesn’t mind a mess; she’s kind of lazy; things like that. We just didn’t work out.”

“Are you seeing anyone now?”

“No, and I’m not looking. I’m fine by myself at present. But how about you? Anyone special I should know about?”

“Are you kidding? Not interested! Besides, there’s too much going on in my life.”

Continue on to Part Two

By Una

The afterglow of my thrill was still there as I undressed and sponge-washed. Cold water removed tell-tale redness on my cheeks and neck. I slipped on my once beautiful royal blue swimsuit. It was too tight, misshapen. I looked so childish in the mirror. I coveted my sister Ann’s shape. I longed to have her faultless figure, her long legs and quiet confidence about her body.

Thoughts of Ann’s shape inspired a new wave of desire. A mind picture of what I’d seen earlier appeared — Ann, stepping into her swimsuit, straightening slowly to display a dark triangle as she wriggled and tugged the stretch material to her knees.

Did I imagine it, or did she pause in that instant before it moved up her thighs to cover her secret parts? Of course I did. Sometimes my mind runs away — but why, then, did she turn to face me? Why did she flash that special smile as she gripped the swimsuit — her naked form held motionless for that few seconds? Was she flaunting her developed femininity to her skinny sister — or was she flirting?

Of course not! Ann wasn’t like me, wasn’t tortured by temptations of the flesh. Didn’t have silly, silent arguments with herself.

I thought of old Sister Agnes, the Deputy Head nun. She was the perfect counterweight to Ann. It was hard to tell what age she was. She had a moustache and was at least forty. I imagined Sister Agnes, naked, climbing into bed beside me, kissing me with her foul breath. Oh my God! The horror drove all impure thoughts about Ann from my mind.

I felt better. The temptation to give into impure thoughts had gone. My mind turned to a pleasant day on the sunny beach.

I checked my face again for revealing signs of redness. Mother had an unerring way of knowing when I had been bold. I looked fine. I greeted her briefly as I raced through the kitchen. The smouldering lust for Ann had gone. All I wanted now was some cool respite from the summer heat in the rock pool.

She was with another girl when I got there. Mary and I were introduced. The three of us frolicked, splashing and chatting before hunting for sea life at the far end of the rock pool. The tide was coming in. We had to move. Mary checked with her mother, relaxing in the sun some distance up the strand.

We found a suitable spot in the dunes and sprawled on the hot sand, discussing schools, clothes, hairstyles, music and the Beatles. Mary’s mother came up to meet us. Introductions, more chat, then finally, Mary and her mum were heading off to their holiday home a mile along the beach.

Ann and I lay back, lost in our own thoughts. Gentle Irish Sea waves hissed rhythmically on the beach. The rest of the world didn’t seem to exist.

I studied the fine blonde hairs on Ann’s shins. Strange, I hadn’t noticed them before. They were so sparse and white that without wet sand clinging to them they would be invisible. I didn’t mention them. She was easily offended.

I thought of body hair — of the darker hair I’d seen earlier, when Ann pulled on her swimsuit. But I thought of it merely with curiosity. It was as though she was a different creature now: my big sister, my companion for as long as I could remember, how could I ever have thought of her in such sinful terms? I loved her. But it was nicer to love her like this — more as a sister and friend for life than as an occasion of sin.

We talked. I sat up, arms hugging knees. Ann moved behind me. She brushed sand from my shoulders. Oh God, not again! A reflex on my neck made me shiver as her fingers delicately moved under the hairline. Temptation was back with a vengeance, the solitude, the stillness, heat beating down on my body — all were combining to fill my head with the most exquisite, sinful cravings.

Our eyes met for a moment. I knew from that smouldering look that Ann shared my thoughts. But seconds later she was saying we had to get back. We’d no idea of the time and it was near lunch.

We went in the car with Mum and Dad after lunch. Ann and I sat in the back. Our knees touched as we swerved around corners on the winding road. It was stiflingly hot. I felt baked, like a cake in an oven. I was wearing a thin cotton dress, knickers and sandals. Sister Agnes had told us once that heat and immodest summer clothes invited the Devil to visit. I hadn’t understood. Neither had my friends. Now I knew. The warm sun beaming through the car window and my light clothes had me in a strange, excited mood.

I studied the symmetry of the toes peeping from Ann’s flip-flops. She was, I thought, a perfect creature. I wanted to look like her. I crossed my legs. I tried to think of Sister Agnes. But Ann was too close. I could feel her hip against mine.

I asked if she was hot. She waved a hand like a fan and pulled a face to show she was. She was lightly dressed like me. I had a mind-picture of the meeting point between her legs. Under that thigh-length sun dress was a pair of Aertex briefs. In my imagination the cotton clung to the warm dampness between her crossed legs.

I’d been there when she scrambled into her going-out clothes. She’d turned her back modestly as I entered the bedroom. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Now, in the car, my glance kept returning to her chest, a baby-pink nipple visible under the gossamer-thin white fabric. It seemed terribly daring. Mum would scold if she noticed.

I punished myself for having weird thoughts about my sister. Why do I think so differently from other girls? Why don’t I fantasise the way my friends do — about Elvis, or Mick Jagger?

My mind returned to the scene in the bedroom as we prepared to go out with Mum and Dad. I wandered into the room as Ann changed. She had turned her back. Was she sending a message — saying there could be nothing carnal between us — or did she thoughtlessly screen her naked body from my gaze? Was it an instinctive move that would have been the same if Mother had entered instead of me?

We had been sleeping in separate rooms for so long now that it was rare to see Ann dress or undress — and rarer still to see any part of her body unclothed.

The car bumped on. I looked out the window, bored. I had a flashback to our pre-departure preparations. I saw Ann’s womanly hips and buttocks as she stooped to draw those white Aertex pants up from her ankles. I hated Aertex knickers: they were cheap and uncomfortable. It was a myth of my mother’s that they were cooler in hot weather. But on Ann, they looked divine.

I stared at the passing green fields behind — preferring to think of my mother’s sometimes silly notions of what her girls should wear, inside and out, as a way of halting my sinful thoughts.

We stopped, then swerved onto a side road. Ann swayed towards me. Our knees touched. It felt as though a coiled spring had been released somewhere inside me. I had butterflies, unseen shivers along that sensitive part of my back.

I pushed my knee against hers in return. Oh my God. My mouth went dry as she pushed back, deliberately. I stole a glance at her face. She was staring fixedly out the window, as though nothing had happened.

I pushed my knee on hers again. As we rounded another corner, I drew it high along her leg before our knees parted, dragging the hem of her short sundress up to her groin.

She didn’t respond. I thought about Sister Agnes, wondering why she was always cross. She had puffy hands. I’d felt them once, when she’d grabbed my bare arm to warn me for running on the stairs. Funny, how I’d never forgotten that clammy grip.

Ann was asking if we could stop somewhere. She was dying to pee. Father said we were near the hotel, she could wait till then. Mother said no. “Stop somewhere quiet, Jim, and she can go behind a hedge.”

We both climbed over a five-bar gate into a pasture field. Ann had her dress up and pants down before I’d scrambled to join her. I took up position like a sentry, peering this way and that along the deserted road in case of interruption. Even squatting in an undignified pose, Ann looked strangely attractive.

The sight of her exposed, rounded hip made me think there was something special about the shared intimacy between sisters. We’d bathed together for years as children. I knew her body as well as my own then. But now there were different rules. We had to behave modestly in private moments, according to the nuns, my mother and everyone else in the world. We were forbidden the closeness we had as children.

Relieving our bladders together was something we’d done since we were toddlers. But this seemed different. There was an air of expectation in the air as Ann stood, fumbled her clothes into place and gave me another of her enigmatic smiles. Her glance around emphasised that some bond between us had been renewed that day.

She seemed to be checking that her moment of necessity — this moment of private business for both of us — had not been observed by anyone else. But really, her gestures and shy smiles said this was more. This was a conspiracy between sisters.

I was crouching now, following Ann’s example. She picked some wildflowers from the grassy bank as I stood and fixed my clothes. We turned to go. Suddenly, she swept her dress above her hips as if she was alone, and tugged at her pants, making them more comfortable.

A tidal wave of desire washed over me. In the blink of an eye, I’d seen the outline of her sex. The forbidden cleft, that wonderful secret crevice, that opening to her inner self had been profiled on her damp knickers in the instant before she had pulled them clear. Her dress fell as quickly as it had risen.

Breathlessly, I settled back into the car. Had Ann done that deliberately? Had she contrived that gesture, or was my imagination running going wild again?

I tried to think of Sister Agnes and her horrible features. But the picture wouldn’t appear. All I could see in my mind were disjointed images of Ann, secret images that no one else had ever seen.

That full-fronted nakedness as she put on her swimsuit this morning; the teasing glimpse of her unclothed rear as she dressed for our car journey; the pink shape of a nipple under her white sundress, the tantalising view of those peach segments between her legs after we peed — all were overwhelming me.

I bumped my knee against Ann’s, no longer concerned that, as the younger sister, my role should be passive. My forehead was moist and sticky, but it was as nothing compared with the heat and damp elsewhere. I uncrossed my legs and parted them, placing one foot on the seat ahead — feeling air from the open car window rush to cool my ardour. I nudged Ann again with my knee, frantically this time. I wanted a sign that she shared my feelings.

But she didn’t return the gesture. The bitch. I was in a high state of excitement, and she was playing with me, pretending she hadn’t noticed. All my life she had been doing that — teasing, taking toys from me, excluding me when she had friends with her.

I clenched my teeth and stared out the window. I wanted to do something awful to her. I thought of some mad ideas. I’d steal her boyfriend. I’d seduce him. But she didn’t have a boyfriend, and I couldn’t seduce anyone anyhow. I’d only just learned from Margaret how to French kiss.

I decided that I would have an affair with Sister Agnes. That would really embarrass Ann with her friends. They’d say they saw Agnes holding my hand behind the refectory, kissing. Oh my God. I shuddered at the thought of touching my lips the the nun’s wrinkled, moustached mouth. Besides, Ann and her friends would laugh at me, not at her.

We arrived at the hotel. Ann had to go to the loo again. She invited me. I sulked. When she came back, I went alone. I sat quietly during our meal. Mother wanted to know what was wrong. So did Ann. I stayed silent, merely shrugging.

Back at our holiday home, after a couple of hours sulking and listening to the radio, I went to bed. At least Charlie was nice to me. I climbed into bed naked except for a t-shirt. I hugged Charlie chastely. I was still so angry with Ann that I couldn’t even seek comfort in my ragged panda.

I must have fallen asleep. I woke to hear Ann moving quietly about the darkened room. I could see her silhouette as she undressed. She pulled back the covers and climbed into bed without a nightie. I wondered if she had kept her knickers on, or if she was naked.

Oh God, those old thoughts were back again. I fell asleep, exhausted. It must have been midnight when I heard Ann whisper. She was kneeling beside my bed. She wanted to know if I’d been able to get to sleep.

I wasn’t sure, I said. I knew what was next. She agreed it was cold when I pointed out she had no nightie on. I threw aside the bedclothes and she squeezed in. We cuddled as though this was an every-night occurrence.

Her arms were around my waist, drawing me towards her. I was clinging to her neck. Her bare breasts were pressing my chest through the t-shirt.

She regretted offending me today. I said I was sorry. Over and over I told her how bad I felt about sulking. I punctuated my apologies by squeezing close, pushing my knee into the soft damp softness of her knickers.

We were whispering so low that we had to put lips to each other’s ears. Her tongue touched my earlobe, so softly at first that it seemed an illusion. My shoulders rose in a squirm and uncontrollable desire welled up like a magic spring in a steaming, volcanic valley. Her tongue withdrew, leaving its wetness behind.

I pushed my head against her mouth — and was thrilled as the tip of her tongue flicked across the nub of flesh below my ear. I tightened my arms around her neck. She drew my waist to hers, flattening her tummy against my hip, moving subtly as if we were dancing a slow rumba. Oh my God. If this ends now it will have been the most memorable, the most thrilling night of my life.

But it wasn’t going to end. It seemed like hours since Ann first climbed into bed, but it was probably merely minutes since she had licked my earlobe. We hugged, tighter and tighter, wriggling into various positions for mutual pleasure.

Ann had sucked my lobe into her mouth, tonguing it, spreading tingling rivulets of sinful desire to every part of me. I wanted more. My instinct drove me on. I turned my face towards hers. Our mouths met like two magnets. Her tongue was inside me, penetrating, probing, fencing with mine. All that Margaret had taught me about French kissing was there, and more.

I was lost in a misty world of passion now. I wanted to do everything, to feel everything. We tossed, we turned, we squirmed, we wriggled. Each move seemed to inspire in my sister to some greater passion, as it did me.

She rolled on top. My bare mound was pressing on the peach-shaped prominence inside her knickers. Our pleasure centres rubbed — like Eskimos rubbing noses, I thought.

Ann’s grinding had parted my secret lips, revealing the wetness there, tugging some inner part, sending wave after wave of lust crashing over me. My God, how could anything be so intense? I was intoxicated, uncaring about the time or the place — all I wanted was this joy with Ann to last forever and ever.

My hand was on her breast. I kneaded its balloon-like softness with a feather touch. The nipple was firm, as solidly stiff as the rubber on the end of our school pencils. My curious thumb explored its shape, Ann sighed — then sighed again.

Her palms were pressing on my ears. She was kissing my lips sweetly, pushed my head lower, leaning away, her breasts thrust forward. She whispered. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” then she steered my head lower, until it rested in the folds of her small but beautiful cleavage.

I didn’t answer. I was too far gone. I couldn’t speak. But I knew what she wanted. I turned my mouth, lightly kissing her soft skin. She lifted one breast and guided the nipple to my mouth.

I devoured it like a lost soul finding water in a desert. The surge of heat and pleasure which convulsed me as I sucked part of my sister’s body into mine was indescribable. We were flying in the face of every taboo that had ever existed. But here, in this dark room in an unfamiliar room in the middle of the night, it felt sublime.

Wave after wave of pleasure kept crashing over me. Ann sighed and gasped as we drifted, apart yet together, towards our forbidden gratification.

For a moment, I was forced to pause. I had reached the cliff-edge where I often wandered with Charlie. When his knee was between my thighs, then I whirled into a wonderful parallel world, like Dorothy being whirled away from the Yellow Brick Road, over the rainbow.

The bubbling cauldron down below told me I could fly off the cliff at any minute, falling into a warm sea of satisfaction. But I didn’t want any pleasure of mine to interfere with Ann’s thrilling journey. I pulled my mouth from her breast and moved away, breathing deeply to regain control.

Her head was on my chest at once, lips seeking my nipple. Her mouth had latched onto me with a suddenness that made me jump. Her sucking was intense, manic. Her lips tightened on the tingling nub, drawing it deep. She was love-biting my nipple. Oh God. What more can there be?

I held her head, attempting to control her frantic desire. She licked, she sucked, she coated all of my budding growth in delicious, slippery saliva. My little nipple seemed huge as she flicked it inside her mouth. Oh God. I can’t hold back. Charlie never felt like this.

Ann’s hand was on my mouth, covering it, whispering. Shush, shush. I wasn’t aware that I was making any sound. I had left the world and was spinning in space. I dragged Ann’s head away from my breast and whispered, “I love you. I really love you, for always.”

Her hand was between my legs, like a magic wand about to wave me into an enchanted, fairy world. My thighs opened instinctively. My body was ready, I needed a finale, needed to have my sister’s fingers consummate our love.

She parted my hidden crevice so deftly, so expertly, that I knew she’d done it before. A finger slithered along my wetness. It investigated the bumps and bits which I’d only ever seen in a hand-mirror in the bath.

It drifted upwards, rolling back the squishy flesh covering the tiny, swollen, purple triangle which epitomised my desire. I heaved and wriggled. The sensation of bliss was so intense that it was almost painful.

I gasped loudly, so loud that even I was aware of it. But I didn’t care who heard. No one could ever take the memory of this pleasure away. I was hooked on love, a special love, secret sisterly love.

I snuggled against Ann. Resting my head on her shoulder, I cried. I don’t know why I cried. I’d never been so happy in my life.

Continue on to Chapter 4

By Mr. Toasty

{ This story was originally posted at the now-defunct Sisters in Love }

Are you ever under the impression that you’re always the last one to know? I was definitely one of those people. No matter what was going on, be it of global significance or private matters in my own house, I usually didn’t hear about it until the very end, when the next flavor of the month is rearing its myriad of heads. Obviously this wasn’t true all the time. I heard about a few things right before everyone started chatting about them, and sometimes I even got to play the part of the informant or the educator, and would be the one to fan the flames and start the gossip. But more often than not, I felt tragically left out of the loop. The greatest example so far was the time when I discovered my cousin and my aunt on Mom’s side were coming over to visit — about three hours before they arrived.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Mom said, looking at me with innocent confusion. “I thought I told you. Salome and Sabine are coming here today. I could’ve sworn I told you!”

“No, Mom, this is the first I’ve heard of it.” She made a face that indicated she had genuinely believed I knew, and was puzzled to discover something to the contrary.

See what I mean? The worst part is that I discovered this bit of information by accident: I heard Mom on the phone talking to her sister, arranging a meeting. Now, normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, and far be it from me to discourage family members from getting together every once in awhile. But Aunt Salome and her daughter Sabine lived in another state, and the infrequency of our encounters — the last time I saw them was when I was still in middle school — gave me good reason to feel surprised, if not offended that Mom should neglect to reveal all this. They were coming over now?

“I really thought I told you,” she said — gently but firmly, if that makes sense. “Well, all the same, could you get the house ready, please?”

“I—I guess.” I’ve got nothing against doing chores — my poor silly mother needs all the help she can get! I just wished I’d had more time to prepare.

Since, after our striking conversation, I immediately set to work ‘doing’ the house (and I have no doubt you’d rather not know all the mundane details), this might be a good time for me to go over my relationship with Aunt Salome and Sabine. Don’t get me wrong: I was thrilled they were coming over, and in spite of the shock, I was clearly excited.

Sabine had been my best friend during the years we spent growing up, and I might even (might being the key word here) have had an innocent little crush on her. She was about three years older than me, and from what I remember and from what the occasional photograph could tell, she was a very pretty young lady — a beauty with sincerity, the kind of person that can be naturally attractive all the way through. She was intelligent and kind and she treated me like an equal… and how could anybody not think a name like that was cool?

Aunt Salome — I also loved her name — had been forced to move away due to a job transfer, and Mom had fought it all the way. She just couldn’t be separated from her little sister, but who could really blame her? Aunt Salome was as pretty and honest as her daughter, and she never spoke down to me or called me a child. She was a wee bit eccentric (aren’t we all?), and she had that same lovable scatterbrained look my mom sometimes sports, but she was cool and generous and charitable and wise.

She and Mom were best friends; it only seemed fitting that their daughters be so close. My only regret is that I never heard a mention of Aunt Salome’s husband (my own father passed on some time ago). I asked, of course, but she usually pretended she didn’t hear me, or changed the subject. I have the feeling that Sabine came into this world under disreputable circumstances, but I just figured it really was none of my business.

Words are slow. My thoughts rolled through my head at a breakneck pace; I was already planning on how I’d spend these precious days with my family, vacuuming the floors in the process. I definitely wanted to hang out with both of them, but I figured Mom would rather spend time with her sister, which was cool. I’m an only child, so I wouldn’t know what having a sister is like: Sabine’s the closest I’ll ever have. We wrote each other constantly (about once a week at first, then once a month), and when our houses caught the Internet bug, we emailed each other all the time. Sabine and I grew up together even though we were separated by miles and miles; I read (and sometimes watched) as she turned into a beautiful young woman. We rarely fought and  were always able to keep things fresh and interesting. It would be a strange experience to actually speak to her in person again, but as I said, I looked forward to it like Christmas and birthday and summer vacation all at once.

When I reached the kitchen, confident that my slipshod plans would be approved by my arriving cousin, I started cleaning the refrigerator and noticed, to my great dismay, that we didn’t have enough food for the four of us, not even if Sabine and Aunt Salome stayed for a day. I figured Mom would handle the groceries, but I asked her just to be sure.

“Hey, Mom, we don’t have enough to eat. You getting groceries?” She came into the kitchen drying her hands and gave me a glowing smile.

“Actually, I was hoping that you and Sabine could handle that.”

“Uh, sure, but you know I don’t have any money.” Not for lack of trying, I promise you: most of it was spent for college-related purposes. I would be a freshman that fall, so every dollar seemed to slip right out of my fingers. I knew Mom had the money, but I didn’t dare ask her.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, smiling enigmatically, a sure signal that she was about to show her generosity. “I’ve already made a list, but feel free to get anything else you think you’ll need. I want them to have at least one home-cooked meal while they’re here.”

“Yeah.” I was the chef of the family, so it would be my responsibility to feed these girls. I suddenly realized I had no idea what Aunt Salome liked, and made sure to ask Mom before I took another breath. She told me that Salome was no longer a vegan, but I should watch the meat and cheese in case she suddenly changed her mind. I personally have no objection to eating meat, and I knew Sabine shared my enthusiasm, despite the torturous diet her mother pushed on her. I suppose being that finicky paid off, since they were both stunning, healthy, glowing women, the kind poets write about. But that doesn’t mean I’m not attractive! I just can’t survive for long without bacon and burgers, that’s all.

I was right in the middle of dusting the den when the doorbell rang, so I was the first to welcome my relatives into the house. I saw Aunt Salome first; she squealed like a kid and picked me into her arms, spinning around until we were both nearly dizzy. I coughed as she let me go and said, “It’s good to see you too, Aunt Salome, but please don’t ever do that again!”

We hugged properly and she kissed my cheek; I felt at ease now that she was being her reliably warm self again. But what can I say about Sabine that I haven’t already said? I felt like I wanted to kiss her — a real kiss, mind you, not the chaste peck of a cousin. I wanted to hold her and not let go, I wanted to undress her and feel her cool naked skin against my own, I wanted to fuck her and fall in love with her. I have no idea why I was thinking these outrageous thoughts, but I didn’t do anything to push them away. I kept them safely hidden, like treasures for me to pull out and cherish.

Our lips nearly touched as I kissed her cheek. Her face glowed with love; she was just as happy to see me as I was to see her.

“You cut your hair,” she said.

I laughed. “Is that all you can say after all this time?”

“And you got your ears pierced.”

“Ah, brilliant observation. What else has changed about me?” My eyes sparkled with hope and wonder; I didn’t think she could guess this one. You see, Mom got a tattoo for me when I turned eighteen and I never told Sabine. This wasn’t a surprise I was storing up for a special occasion, I just kept forgetting about it. She put her finger to her cheek, furrowing her brow in concentration. Finally she shrugged. “Okay, okay, I give.”

I showed her my prize and she squealed. I’ve heard tell that only a slut get a butterfly tattoo on the small of their back, but I think that’s just nonsense. Some of the chastest people I know have sexy tattoos. “Now I wish I had one,” she sighed, then inevitably directed her attention to her mother, who was chattering nonsensically with her sister. “Mom, can I get a tattoo? Something with skulls and flames and knives?”

“We’ll see,” she stated, before resuming her babbling conversation.

“Can we at least have some money to buy groceries?” I said. I love my mother, but she has a fairly short attention span, and she needs to be reminded of things. My eyes bulged out as she laid two fifty-dollar bills in my palms, and my heart jumped when she said Sabine and I could keep the change.

I really can’t tell you what happened after that because my head was off in the clouds and it didn’t come back until Sabine and I drove out of the garage and onto the street.

*****

“Pretty,” she said, her eyes squinting from her broad smile. I blushed and tried not to lag behind as the light turned green again.

When I reached the parking lot, I wanted to play the chivalrous cousin and open her door for her, but she got it herself. That independence comes from Grandpa’s side and it is something I was blessed with as well. (Grandma gave us our endearing ditziness and natural beauty.) I also had Grandpa’s bravery and boldness, and reached to take Sabine’s hand as we walked up to the store. I’m a little shorter than she is, because of our age difference, so I could literally and figuratively look up to her and smile; she smiled back and even winked.

“So are we going to talk at all? We haven’t seen each other in five years.”

“I know. But you know how there are some moments that are so beautiful and pure, you don’t want to ruin them. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I think it was just what we needed. But now that we’re talking again, does this mean you’re no longer happy?”

She smiled playfully and winked again. “I’m definitely happy, but it’s different. There’s happy and there’s happy, you know. One is more fleeting than the other, and because it’s so brief, we can’t afford to be distracted by anything else when it comes. It’s overwhelming; too much of it would hurt us. But there’s also the ordinary kind of happiness we see all the time.”

“And that’s where we are now,” I concluded. She nodded, and we walked into the store, our hands now freed. Holding her hand, being in such close intimate contact with her, had been one kind of happiness, but hanging out with her in the store was the other kind. The difference was delicate but clear; I felt my heart soaring out of love for Sabine and her wisdom. That she chose to spend her time with me was even more amazing.

“So what do we get first?” she wondered, peering over my shoulder at the list Mom gave me.

I scanned down the paper and pursed my lips anxiously: there was a lot there! It would be impossible for me to do this by myself, so I asked Sabine to take a cart and half the list with her so we could finish this quickly.

“No, I want to do it with you!” she protested, caressing my arm. “You were the one who said we should talk more. Let’s do this together. Our moms can wait.”

“I guess we could,” I answered, “but you have to help me. Let’s go get everything in aisle one first.”

Sabine had not been to that grocery store in years, so I had to step up and show her where everything was. This is another long stretch of time where not too much happened, except that we did talk and catch up on things, we spent good times together and had a lot of fun and became even closer. We loaded the groceries until the cart nearly overflowed, and worked as a team to bag them all. We stuffed everything in the car and put the cart away, then looked at all our change. Sabine and I both made a face as we realized just how little we had left.

“And here I thought Mom was trying to be generous,” I grumbled. It was mostly pocket change and singles; we split it between the two of us and headed back. I prayed quite hard that all the trouble I went through cleaning the house was not in vain: Mom could get pretty messy when she was excited.

Home, I quickly came to the rescue and started cooking for my hungry troops. Mom and Aunt Salome had actually started prepping the kitchen, but were too busy interacting to get much done. I had no choice but to forgive them: Sabine and I would’ve done exactly the same thing. As punishment, they volunteered to wash the dishes while she and I were let free to do as we pleased, but that was little comfort while I was in the trenches. Sabine took care of the simple things I was too busy to handle, like organizing the groceries, finishing what our mothers started, and retrieving whatever I needed, while Mom and Aunt Salome set the table. We went through a lot of trouble, but really bonded as a family, cheesy though that may sound.

“So what colleges have you applied to?” my cousin asked me. She helped put everything on the table and served everyone, while I was given a chance to sit down and rest my feet. I couldn’t complain since Mom works hard to support the two of us, and she said I needed the experience, whatever that meant. I could already take care of myself very well and had even played the role of caretaker for my dear mother. Moving out wouldn’t be difficult; I just wasn’t really ready yet.

But I digress. I answered Sabine and she replied with that prizewinning smile of hers. “Why not move in with me? My last roommate bailed out on me and I can’t cover the rent anymore. I’ve had to live with Mom for a few months and — no offense, Mom — it’s really driving me crazy!”

I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Her offer sent me soaring, and I barely managed to nod my head, the idea enraptured me so. I didn’t hear Aunt Salome’s tart response (something about “How could I drive you crazy?”), I was thinking how wonderful it would be to live with Sabine. I knew for a fact that Mom wouldn’t mind; it seemed only a matter of time now.

“You two can worry about that later,” Salome said to us in her peaceful, sweet matronly voice. “We haven’t eaten at the same table together in years. Rikki, tell me: have you finally decided to start dating?”

Whoops, I almost forgot to introduce my side of the family! I was so obsessed with Sabine that I forgot to make introductions! My mother’s name is Rochelle, but her sister always called her Rikki, and my own name is Cory, which is short for Corrina. I was thankful every day that no one in our family had very common names; it definitely made life nicer.

“And who says I’m not dating now?” Mom answered vaguely, wiping her mouth.

Salome snorted. “You do, in all the emails you send me. It’s nothing to be shy about, Rikki. A beautiful woman your age needs to go out and socialize.”

“Yes, but where would I find anybody who’s interested — or interesting, for that matter? I’m a single mother, remember?”

“Cory’s going off to college soon,” Salome pointed out. “If that’s all that’s holding you back, you can start once she and Sabine move in together. You two were serious about that, right?”

“Definitely,” I said, as Sabine replied, “Yes, indeed.”

“All right, there you go,” she gestured.

Mom wasn’t the type of person to let things go like that, so she turned the question right back at her little sister. “What about you, Sal? You haven’t been with anyone since high school. Don’t tell me you’ve given up.”

“I haven’t,” she insisted, sipping her drink gracefully. “I just don’t make it common knowledge. You obviously don’t know your little sister very well, Rikki. I’ve had plenty of — opportunities.”

“But no big prospects?”

“Plenty of those, too,” she answered clearly, looking her sister right in the eye.

Things had become very serious and intimate all of a sudden, and I felt I was imposing on a very personal conversation. I wanted to leave, but Sabine was still eating and had tuned out the conversation. I resolved to excuse myself and touched Sabine’s shoulder, indicating it was time for us to go. She understood and finished her meal, and our mothers said they would clean up as promised, but not yet. We left them to finish their conversation and made our way upstairs, where my sanctuary awaited.

I shivered once we reached my room. “That was weird,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” We grinned and the tension was forgotten. “But now that we’re thinking about it, what sorts of romantic prospects have you been through?”

“None,” I answered with a shameful grin. “I’ve been way too busy. I spent all of high school with the soccer team. You?”

“I don’t date,” she said, shaking that luxurious russet mane of hers. “It’s not even a question of time for me; I’m just not — well, not interested in the prospects. I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting for that special someone to sweep me off my feet. I just don’t feel inspired with anybody in the local area.”

“So what do you spend your time doing?”

My beautiful Sabine couldn’t restrain her embarrassed smile as her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Watching cartoons and playing video games. My spare time, of course.”

“You don’t exercise?”

“Mm, about once or twice a week at home. I can’t afford the local gym. I guess that’s why you’re in better shape than I am.”

“But you grew up with a vegan mother. My mom’s not like that at all.”

“But dinner was very nice.”

I smiled gently and thanked her. The peaceful silence returned and I felt this was becoming one of those especially happy moments Sabine had described to me earlier. Not wanting to ruin it, I shuffled over to my bed and motioned for her to join me. As she laid down, it felt like a summer afternoon in my room all of a sudden: the warmth of her body, the thrill in my own heart, her fierce, pleasant scent drifting across the room, her gentle touch as she rested her head on my shoulder, the smile that was just for me—

“I love you.” I couldn’t keep it in; I had to say it. Have you ever felt like your own inner dam won’t be able to hold something in anymore? That if you keep it locked in, you’ll just burst? I was overflowing with love for my precious Sabine and couldn’t bear for it to be a secret anymore. I had typed it a thousand times in our corresponding letters and emails, of course, but I’d never actually said it.

I put my moist lips to hers and inhaled quietly; summertime was never better.

I lingered, my mouth still, greedy for Sabine’s taste and the invisible aura of love glowing from her. She moved her head imperceptibly and I felt a soft tenderness touch me, my heart skipping a beat as I realized that my innermost desire had been fulfilled.

I pulled away before anything further could develop and studied her face, wondering just what she was thinking. That had certainly felt like a harmless kiss from her end, but I know I erupted inside when I tasted Sabine’s lips. I’d never kissed anyone like that before, not as a polite gesture or an intimate action, not even my own mother, so of course it was a wonderful sensation. I had prayed — hopelessly at times — that my first kiss would be with someone I loved, so lo and behold! But did she kiss me out of a reflexive action, or a friendly motion, or was it the act of a woman in love?

We grinned at each other as we realized what happened. The happiness between us was so pure and beatific that I feared anything else we did would destroy it. We didn’t even breathe. I kissed her again, pressing my lips upon hers, reaching the impossible treasure I’d wanted ever since we were reunited — and this time, there was no holding back. Sabine drew me into a loving embrace, and I could feel a gust of air push through her nose as she sighed for joy. Her fingers went for my short dark hair again — how enraptured she was by this mane of mine! — and our lips parted, closed, and opened again as we gasped breathlessly.

I felt Sabine’s soft warm moist tongue slide through my lips as I let my defenses slip, and my senses went into overload. The sensation of another woman’s tongue — my own cousin’s tongue inside my mouth, caressing and massaging with the most tender love and desire — it’s something one has to experience for herself. It was beautiful and sweet and erotic and even naughty, all at once. I knew my Sabine loved me, but I had no idea she was that interested. It made a lot of sense, though, to overflow with so many feelings like that, pouring them out for the one you love the most. I loved Sabine more than anyone else in the world, even more than my own mother; I was soon expressing this as only a headstrong young woman intoxicated with lust can.

We were forced to stop, however, to catch our breath. As I’ve said, words are slow; Sabine and I must’ve been French kissing for about ten minutes, maybe less. The time she spent with her head on my shoulder, just absorbing the peace in my room, had gone on even longer. But it felt like years since we came down from our clouds and realized we were two cousins in a room together and not goddesses in the Elysian Fields.

I didn’t want to break the moment with my clumsy words, but I really felt it was necessary. “Umm—wow! That came out of nowhere.”

“Are you sure?” Her wisdom and intimate understanding sliced through my innocence. I knew I was in love with Sabine now. I had been in love with her long before today. In that sense, my affection for her didn’t “come out of nowhere,” it had been inside me since we were children.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” I answered. I swallowed down my nervousness and bared my soul. “I’ve always been in love with you, Sabine. I didn’t think you—” Her eyes glowed with very quiet love; it was tender and patient and it made me feel like a whole person. I know that nothing I’m saying makes any sense, but that’s how I felt. She didn’t even have to tell me she was in love for me to know; I just knew. I chuckled and caressed her pretty face. “I’m always the last one to figure these things out.”

Our kisses inflamed us, our passions took over, throwing away all reason and logic. This was no longer another woman, or my cousin, or even my best friend — this was Sabine, my lover, exposed for what she was, every last honest inch of her.

I undressed her with careful consideration. I exposed her skin, that sensual field of pale pink. Her breasts were revealed before my startled eyes, two cute nipples pointing towards the sky. Pervert that I was, I inhaled the rich scent of her panties as I liberated her from the last formality, and sniffed the air wafting from her maidenhood, intoxicating myself. Sabine had a timid look on her face, but her shining eyes told me she was loving this.

She undressed me, but her lips roamed everywhere. I had merely touched my love, and memorized her scent. My skin is more tanned than hers, thanks to years of playing and working outdoors, and even I have to admit that the enticing layers of plump sensuality coating her muscles were more prominent than my own. Not that Sabine is at all fat, she just has a very shapely body that I adore. I could feel her enviously worshiping my muscles and my taut limbs. She put all my toes in her mouth, nibbling playfully, and in turn I sucked at her fingers. I had no firm idea what sex or lovemaking was supposed to be like. I just did what came naturally, and although it may sound strange or even perverse, it felt very natural making love to my darling Sabine.

“Oh, Cory!” she wailed, sliding up my body. Our breasts came into contact and I squealed as the delicious friction of it stabbed through my core. I squeaked as I felt her body descend upon mine — our sexes were nearly touching now — and we kissed and held each other for what seemed like eons on end.

When we stopped to catch our breath and cool off, I flipped her so I was on top again and thrust my tongue into her beautiful mouth. If this were any other woman, I don’t think I could’ve gone through with it. There was no way I could possibly love anyone more than Sabine. I called her name out again and again and trailed my tongue down her body, over her gorgeous breasts, dipping it into her belly button until at last I came to the end of my journey. There would be plenty of time for me to lavish attention on her magnificent legs, but I wanted to taste my Sabine’s sacred area.

“Pretty,” I purred, echoing her earlier flattery as I caressed her pubic hair. She had a sexy womanly patch of mousy brown curls, and I begged her never to shave it all off; the sight of it drove me crazy with lust.

I was about to indulge myself, but my lover stopped me. “Corrina, wait. Hold on, sweetheart.” Sabine only calls me by my full name if something serious is going on, so I obeyed and looked up, my face still comically hovering over her entrancing vagina. “I really am in love with you, sweetie, and I want to — to be with you like this. It’s what I’ve always wanted. But I don’t want this to just be about sex. I love you and I want to be with you. I want to go through life with you and share it with you. There’s no point in going any further if we don’t do that. We’ll be happy and we’ll suffer, too. We’ll have good days and we’ll have really rotten ones as well. We may even fight. But you’re the only person I could bear to do any of that with. It’s either you or nobody. Do you understand?”

Moving to lie on top of her once more, I kissed Sabine’s lips until she understood that I felt the same way. Her tears came freely; they moistened her bare body. I kissed them all away, and she cooed softly as she felt the depths of my love. What also pleased me was that I was the first one — the only one, really, as far as I knew — to love my precious Sabine in this way. I made sure she knew for certain that I would be her soulmate forever before I resumed my ministrations.

“Time to finish what I started,” I growled sensually. Sabine squealed with delight and braced herself. My head was swimming; time and reason seemed to be ripping each other apart. I was really going to go down on Sabine! I was going to put my tongue in another woman’s vagina! For the briefest moment I hesitated.

My lover, however, was impatient. “Cory,” she whispered softly, “fuck me. Cory, please, fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

I looked up at her heavenly face, so innocent and kind, so wrought with need, and wiped the tears from my own eyes. She had whispered a vulgar word, but in this context, it seemed the most beautiful expression I’d ever heard. I was going to fuck my Sabine — so softly, so sweetly, until her essence flowed forth for me to treasure.

There’s no point describing what I did to her. What could anybody possibly gain from it? I lapped clumsily at her womanhood; I touched it and suckled it, prodding and experimenting, praying that my work would bear fruit. Sabine’s golden moans were melodic; she clasped the sheets with a vice grip and parted her legs as far apart as they could go until her feet hung over the sides of the mattress. My senses were overwhelmed; I was focusing everything on her glorious vagina, wondering if my personal experiences of self-pleasure would work here. It was an adventure to find out what drove Sabine crazy and what made her beg me for more. She whispered until she screamed, all the while whispering, “Please, please fuck me, Cory. I love you. Oh, God, I love you!”

I left Sabine’s vagina to its own devices for awhile — the poor girl actually cried out how mean I was — but her cries became stifled very suddenly as I kissed her rear end. I gently lifted my cousin’s bottom into the air and, as disturbing as this might sound, actually darted my tongue out and licked her puckered little hole. I’m sad to say there’s no civilized or romanticized way of saying that I stuck my tongue up her butt, but I was feeling uncharacteristically wicked and wanted to drive Sabine wild. She gawked and tensed up for a moment as she realized what I was doing, but calmed down and even sang out wonderfully as the sensations overpowered her.

I alternated between this opening and her vagina — still reeling from the incredible wonder of doing this to another girl — until her body twisted and shivered in ecstasy, Sabine not quite able to muffle her cries.

Finally she lay limp and dazed, a gentle smile on her lips. I made sure to clean her up, kissing and slurping as gently as I could. I knew how sensitive she must have been, and didn’t want to put her in overdrive.

I cuddled and caressed my darling cousin as she came down from her pinnacle. I’d experienced a few fairly good orgasms in my time — all by my own hands, so to speak — but I could only imagine what she was going through. The girl of her dreams had delivered her to heaven’s doorstep and her mind was just wrapping itself around that. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter, other than our love. Our shared genders and bloodline, and even our mothers, who had no doubt heard some of what we’d been doing and prudently decided to wait before confronting us… all faded away as Sabine recovered, and I kissed her breasts and jaw, awaiting the moment when she returned the favor.

“Come here, beautiful,” she begged me. Our lips touched sweetly several times and I felt her hands wandering. She had been given full access to my body earlier, but went back there again, tickling and squeezing, trying to find new ways to please me. Her hands folded over my bottom and groped — then she slapped me, quite firmly, giving me an impish smile.

“You bitch,” I giggled, blushing furiously. Mom raised me to never swear, and I followed this rule implicitly, but now I couldn’t help it. We laughed out loud and I asked her to spank me again.

It wasn’t long before I had my tongue around one of her fingers, then she slipped it inside my rear and I saw stars as I was penetrated from behind. Our eyes locked as she used her other hand to explore my maidenhood. I crumpled in her arms and groaned so deeply and hungrily that for a moment, I thought I’d turned into an animal.

“Touch my pussy,” I whispered, feeling empowered by my surprising vulgarity. “Put your fingers in my pussy. Touch me. Sabine, please—”

“I want to hear you say the f-word, lover,” she murmured. I nearly lost control right then and there.

“Fuck me!” I squealed, as she solemnly kissed my shoulders. “God, fuck me, Sabine! Sabine, please fuck me! I want to — to feel you—inside of me!”

I felt my virginity break suddenly and clung to her as tightly as I could; the pain and pleasure of it all was extraordinary. I bit down where Sabine’s neck met her shoulder and suckled it numbly. She shushed me and resumed her work, going slowly and carefully.

I hit orgasm but didn’t dare scream; instead I kissed her to stifle my cries.

“I love you, Cory,” she whispered in my ear.

I wept and hugged her tightly. “I love you too, Sabine! But you know, it’s really not nice to take things without permission!”

“Sorry,” she giggled, her cheeks rosy. I couldn’t help but love her when she made that face, and I caressed her as the brightness of my love shone out.

“It’s all right. I wanted you to have it anyway.”

“Oh? Was this before or after I came over?”

“You’re evil!” I squealed, piling on top of her. I wouldn’t let Sabine get away with being such a naughty girl — umm, yeah, I actually said that to her — and pinned her hands to the bed. I wanted to scare her a little and make her feel defenseless, but that perverted girl just smiled at me, her eyes glistening with lust and longing.

My free hand got straight down to business as my legs wrapped around one of her thighs, and I rubbed up against Sabine while penetrating her at the same time. It was harder than I thought, and it completely drained me, but it was so worth it in the end. Her virginity was mine in a matter of moments — our eyes met and she gave me leave without saying a word — and soon we were both too exhausted to move. I’d never attempted back-to-back orgasms in my life, but with Sabine in my life — well, I would have to get used to them.

It wasn’t until seven o’clock in the morning when I realized Sabine and I had fallen asleep together. I lay there in bed, naked from head to toe, the sheets covering my legs and dear Sabine cuddling me protectively, and thought about what had happened.

So, I’d made love to another woman — my own cousin, no less — and was no longer a virgin. It had all happened so quickly; the dam had burst too fast. I’d been blinded by my own passions and had lost my mind. But I didn’t regret one second of it, not even for an instant, and if I had to do it all over again, I would definitely repeat everything we’d done and more.

Well… I’d have Sabine ask before she deflowered me, but other than that…

I lightly massaged her back and shoulders as she rested against my body, still lost in slumberland and dreaming about me, I hoped. Making love to Sabine and watching as she slept were two kinds of the most sublime happiness; being with her as we shared the sorrows and joys of life would be the simpler kind.

Inevitably, I wondered how our mothers would take this. I know my mom would be okay if I came out as a lesbian, but revealing my affection for my cousin was another matter. I didn’t know how open-minded Aunt Salome would be, but I resolved that I didn’t care: come what may, Sabine and I would spend the rest of our lives together. I did hope that my aunt would be okay with it, though. I didn’t want to create a rupture in the family.

A bleary-eyed Sabine woke up and smiled. “Good morning, sexy,” she quietly said.

“Morning, pretty girl,” I replied, and we rubbed our noses and nipples together in greeting. I so badly wanted to kiss my love, but brushing my teeth came first, and I stated that Sabine wouldn’t be “getting any” until she did the same. The little sneak just laughed and slithered underneath the covers, deciding to bury her lips in my womanhood. I shrieked, I laughed, I sang for joy; I came right in her mouth. She even gave my rear end a few kisses and licked my butthole; I almost hyperventilated from the sensation. No wonder Sabine had erupted like that!

“You’re awful,” I murmured as she climbed back up. But I couldn’t pout at her for long; she was the most amazing woman in the world, and I knew she only teased me like that because she loved me so deeply.

I slapped her gorgeous rear end as she bounced out of bed and, as she moaned and squealed so cutely, I kept smacking her butt as we put some bathrobes on and marched into the bathroom. Our house only has one, which makes sense because there’s only two people in this house most of the time, but I prayed Mom or Aunt Salome hadn’t beat us there. And just how had they spent their night?

“Maybe they had sex too,” my perverted cousin suggested. I slapped her on the rear again, but soon came to realize she hardly considered this punishment. What was worse was that if they had indeed made love — which just might have explained why they didn’t hear us as we shrieked the night away — I would once again be the last one to know. But since that had nothing to do with our trek to the bathroom, we pressed on.

The lights were on, which didn’t startle me. Mom sometimes forgets and keeps them on all night, but that comes in handy in case either of us needs to make a “midnight run”. Someone had beaten us to the shower, which was not very surprising either. Despite her quirks, Mom is an early riser and makes sure I follow her example. She usually wakes me after she takes her shower, leaving me with just enough time to make breakfast, eat, and wash up. I even saw Mom’s silhouette behind the glass curtain and raised my eyebrows. I’m not afraid to admit that my mother is a gorgeous lady and I hope to look as good as her when I reach that age.

The thing that shocked me, though, was the telltale signs that Mom was not alone in there. She clearly had company and it was obvious to both of us who it was. It was also very obvious what they were doing. We heard moans of passion and the sound of wet bodies rubbing together; we saw the blurry shape of two very naked women, sharing a very passionate kiss.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed. We slipped outside, thankfully without being noticed.

Sabine’s mouth was hanging open. “I… I was just kidding!” she blurted. “I didn’t think they’d do it for real!”

I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh. I also couldn’t let this moment pass without making a truly tasteless joke. “Well, like mother like daughter, I guess.”

So with the arrival of my cousin and my aunt, the goddess of love came with them. Sabine and I were now lovers and would spend the rest our lives together. And apparently, Mom decided she couldn’t spend another minute without the love of her little sister, a love that Salome was all too happy to give. It dawned on me that this was quite possibly the healthiest relationship either of them could enter into, and I prayed, as Sabine and I crossed over to the kitchen, that they would be together forever.

Eventually the new couple emerged from the shower, still wearing their bathrobes and glowing as lovers are apt to do. They giggled, flirted, and teased each other; we both watched them enter the kitchen with quiet, understanding smiles. With one exception, I’d never seen anything more adorable and beautiful in all my life — that exception being my beloved Sabine — though I’m sure Mom and Aunt Salome believed we didn’t suspect a thing.

We went through the motions that morning and spent the entire day together, and eventually, the truth came out for all to hear, and there was not an unhappy face in the crowd. Well, maybe that’s exaggerating things.

“Um, care to run that by me again?” I demanded. Mom and Aunt Salome, holding hands as they snuggled close, smiled at each other, and at me.

“It’s not the first time we made love,” Mom said. “It happened once before, when we were even younger than you two. But this is the first time we’ve — considered it seriously.”

“That’s right, girls,” Salome said, pausing to kiss Mom’s cheek. “We want to be a real couple.”

“Oh, jeez.” I rubbed my face wearily, but luckily I had an angel there to unravel my stress.

“It’s okay, Cory,” Sabine whispered. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know either.”

I had to laugh, hearing that. We shared a family hug, and I reflected on how being the last to know what’s up really isn’t that big a deal.

The End