C18 (1)

Saaaa-ra. I always feel like I am asking for something. I Love the name Sara, and would beg her say it when we got back from OUR vacation, watching those red lips - Saa-ra - ending with her mouth open and its lewd meaning shared only by us. The obsession has only grown since we parted. To the world she is my sister, sweet and oh so innocent, the top of her head even with my eyes, brunette and darkening each year. I can just lean forward and kiss her forehead. Can anyone match my Sa-ra, especially the Sara that has driven my fantasies by absence?

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What is it about a hot summers day and the smell of sea water that brings it all back? The fresh smell of warm humid Seattle air and I can feel her skin, her body sliding on me, those sweaty Florida nights. So here I am, chasing my siren, watching the rocks emerge, their spray forms on my upper lip. I am sweating. Envy, want, weakness. My seraph, Sa-ra. My brow is wet as I wear this crown of thorns.

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First. I didn't call ahead because there was no way of knowing what she'd say, and I really had nowhere else to go. I figured if I was just standing at her door she'd HAVE to let me in. It had been quite a while since I'd seen her. After Sara got married, I went to college and got in my own now dissolved relationship, and I tried to be with Sara. I flirted, played, called, emailed. We were close. We were still brother and sister I told her. We were normal I guess, in a dysfunctional sort of way.

I knew she was home, knew she was still married, and heard through mom and dad that she was pregnant. I got her address from them, feeding their hopes we may reconcile from a break for reasons they knew not. Pregnant. Fucking-A. I was so curious. What would my Sara look like pregnant?

Now, before I go on - and I will deny it forever, but a man can dream. Maybe she was ready to cross those little lines again? And for me dreaming was also remembering. But pregnant. Wow! I was trying to imagine her naked, pregnant and naked, what she would look like? Engorged breasts, hard nipples, and that perfect belly, sinking low hiding her pussy hairs down between her legs. Fat pussy lips. Mmmmm. It had been too long.

It was a building urge that started on our car trip, and I wished to fetch my Sara once again. But here is where deniability sets in. I mean, what else could I do but dream? Sara was married. Life goes on. So, absolutely, while I imbibed in these fantasies, my head thoroughly informed me of the 'reality.' Was she Happily married? Was she satisfied? In bed? Stop it!! These questions that lurked at the edges of my mind. Once you have sex with your sister, the erotic tension never leaves your relationship. I should know. And especially with my little Sara, the freest most erotic woman I had ever known, and with the most outrageous libido of any woman I had ever met. I mean, did she like to fuck! God dammit.

Stop!!

I could feel a wet spot forming in my pants as I walked up the steps to her house. No way she was fully satisfied.

At the very least I could SEE her, she was everything I desired, and could fulfill my visions that were fading. Her jerk-off factor was declining with my memory of her, and I needed it refilled. My heroin(e), my Sara, and I needed this fix bad.

DING

I knew that, if I stayed, I could lay in her guest bedroom and conjure up her vision freshly seen, imagining her -pregnant- young body as I stroked my stiffy. Would she do the same after seeing me?? All this is happening in a split second by the way, standing at the door of a completely normal suburban home while waiting for the door to open. My heart pounding a million times a second.

I was mapping a path to her bed, no doubt about it. But at minimum a bed that was separated from her by a door, a wall, a shower curtain? Mmmmm. Maybe I'd hear her and hubby do the naughty. How fantastic would that be? Jerking off to her moans.

I felt myself grow hard, danger. Great, she answers the door and I got a tent in my pants. Shifting my thoughts. Dripping is one thing but to stand there stiff. Do I hug her? Yes. That is normal. She will be opening this door, standing right there, a light flipped on.

DING.

I would touch her, more than once. How could I find a way to 'feel' her, which is a step more than a touch. A lingering caress. To hold my hand on her skin, a second too long. First she had to let me stay.

Calm.

I breathed. No more than ten seconds had passed.

When the door swung open, she froze like a deer. And what I saw bordered on obscene; all the innocence I ever remembered all that naughty lurking in the corners, and in all the right places. Sara, innocence at the edge of perverted. It was all in the mouth. A permanent pout and smile. That lower lip! I melted. My Sara. Sara!! Surprise in her eyes, a surge of adrenaline, and cheeks that went instantly red.

"Holy shit," My pregnant Sara exclaimed.

She looked so hot in a tight pair of stretchy jeans and red V-sweater.

And I had to be real careful.

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She looked a little tired. And, my oh my, pregnant!

In a flash as she turned, her swollen belly peeking out from under that red sweater. The jeans nicely stretched, straining the zipper and button. I knew she would let me feel her belly, and at the thought I was stiffening again.

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Well, after hearing my woes, she or I should say THEY let me stay.

I say 'they' because Mark had to agree to it. From the beginning he never liked me, and that had not changed. Jealousy? How could it be? He never knew. No way had she told him. It made me nervous the way he was looking at me though.

"What are you doing here?" her voice breathless, I loved the surprise. I saw her hand involuntarily reach, ready to hold mine. But Mark was there and that hand stayed dutifully by her side.

And I did get the room of my dreams.

A room right next to theirs, which was the guest room. Oh to be wealthy enough to have a guest room. I leaned against the wall that we shared. This was getting to be too much.

That evening I took a shower, a nice long slow shower. I loved the idea of being naked in the same house, rubbing soap across my chest. I began to fantasize about Sara naked, or walking about the house in a towel or nightie. Come in here, I thought. I remembered the times I had seen her, pulling back the shower curtain, the way she would turn toward me without covering herself. I began to lather up my crotch, all nice and slippery, feeling the warm water cascade down my back and began to stroke. Mmmmmm. I was so hard, if felt heavy in my hand.

I closed my eyes, picturing her body. My voice low mumbles, "Do you always make coffee naked." "Mmmmm, yes, early before anyone else rises." "Where is Mark?" "Gone already." Mmmmmmm. "Yes. Someone else is rising early too."

Sara kneeling down in front of me, looking at my cock, as I am slapping at her cheek with it. Her mouth on me, wrapping her lips around its head. Popping inside. Oh God. I can see it. The softness of her slick pussy, all tight and hungry. Her eyes looking up at me, her white teeth, red mouth. Licking her lips. Ahhhhh.

Fuck.

"Welcome back." I breath in my own voice, and began convulsing in the shower as spurt after spurt of cum sprayed into the shower.

Delicious. I rinsed and got out. I wiped the steamed mirror and looked, held my hands out in front of me. These hands had done just about everything with my sister. I stood naked and felt my cock rising again. Are you kidding me?

I wrapped myself in a towel - would she see me? Trotted off to my room. Nope. And got dressed in jeans and a T shirt, before going downstairs.

As I settled onto the sofa Sara caught my eye. That smirk. Was I imagining it? The corners lifted, and her eyes twinkling. What was she thinking?

She said, "Have a nice shower?"

You would have made it nicer. I felt myself blush, I looked away.

"Yeah."

Sara was still in jeans, but that would not be for too much longer. Her belly was really straining at the zipper and snaps. She was so fucking sexy. I kept peeking at her, and she was pretty much just ignoring me. Busy. Pregnancy does something to a woman's body. Her breasts were fantastic, pendulous. Her hair shined, her lips were swollen and red. She had this glowing look, ripe and full and I so wanted to run my hand over her hips.

I blurted out, "You're Pregnant! Mom told me. You look happy."

She just smiled and walked by.

When she came by again I said, "You look great." My eyes following a line down her body. She paused a beat, letting me look at her.

"Thanks." Her smile, the kind that forms a softening at her eyes.

My heart began to pound. "When you due?"

"Its my third trimester, like nine more weeks."

"Holy shit. Baby move much?"

"All the time," she had moved herself to the sofa. Her top was riding up leaving a bare swelling belly.

"Can I..." Oh god. First night. I wanted to.

She moved a little closer.

"Sure. It's moving a bit now." Her tone all innocent, she slid close. I lay the flat of my hand on her belly, and touched her soft bare skin. My fingers were trembling. I about exploded. Could she feel it? Was she? My little Sara. "Here, it's little foot is right here." She took my hand and slid it low under her belly, and beneath her navel. My fingers just grazing the edge of her jeans. Soft downy hairs running up her abdomen. "Feel it?"

I didn't. I wanted to and was sliding my hand along the edge of her jeans. She took my hand and pressed hard.

Ohhhh, this was too much. My fingers tucked just into her jeans. Her belly tight, the soft swell of her abdomen. Soft downy hair. And a ridge of hair up toward her navel.

"Yes. Yes. There." I could so totally feel it.

"Been kicking at me all day. So active. It makes my back hurt."

"It's so cool."

She was still smiling, enjoying my response. All I could think of was her smell, and the warmth of her skin.