MATT AND MICHELLE

The first week of October was not a pleasurable one for me. My stable of porn just wasn't doing it. I was 19 years old, and for the first time in my life, I was having a hard time achieving an orgasm. I was tense and in desperate need of relief. When that relief finally came, it was unsatisfying. I'd mindlessly click through images and videos which at one point would have pushed me over the edge within minutes, but they did nothing.

On Tuesday night, it took me twenty minutes of rubbing, yanking and pulling before my cock dribbled a pathetic few drops of cum into my fist. My dick softened, but the entire experience felt unsatisfying.

On Wednesday night, after sitting through an entire 45 minutes of random hardcore porn, I gave up and went to sleep. I know I needed the release because I woke up with my boxers stuck to my crotch. Nocturnal emission.

On Thursday night I decided to try a different strategy. I dimmed the lights in my room, put on headphones, and listened to jazz. I was laying on my back in the dark, completely naked, hoping the change in scenery would do the trick. By midnight, I threw off the headphones, rolled over, and went to sleep.

Friday morning I woke up with a very stiff cock. I went to the bathroom, pissed uncomfortably, then slithered into a warm shower, hoping I'd finally find relief. My cock was rock hard and throbbing. It was an angry purple. I lathered up and started stroking slowly, feeling an ache in my balls. I squeezed the head of my dick, then sped up my strokes. I desperately needed to cum. A few minutes letter, I could feel my balls tighten and the cum bubble up, but again, a few sad drops sputtered out and washed off my hand, down the drain within a second. I leaned my forearm on the wall of the shower and let out a sob. My cock was still half hard, and I was done. Dejected. Finished.

********

"What's the deal, grump?" My mother tussled the hair on my head as I slumped into a chair in the breakfast nook. She had that patented Worried Mom look.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You look like someone took away your favorite toy," my father quipped, barely looking up over his paper.

My mother shot him a disapproving look. "Matthew, honey, if the stress of college is too much, let us know what we can do to help. You've got a lot on your plate, with a full load of classes and a job."

"It's only part time work, Mom, and it's not that bad. I'm fine. I guess I'm just tired or something."

"OK. Well you know to speak up if you need anything, right?" My mother is a therapist. She has a hard time leaving the work at work. Sometimes I think she's analyzing my every move.

"Where's Michelle?" Dad wondered aloud. Both my mother and I shrugged. My 18 year old sister Michelle was something of a prodigy, and was probably still in her room doing last minute studying for her AP classes. Don't get me wrong, I was a good student too and on full scholarship to state university, but Michelle was something else. We were a very close family, and my parents and I dreaded the day when she'd pick any one of a number of universities which would undoubtedly accept her for admission; she could probably go to an Ivy League across the country.

The thought of Michelle sent a little pang through me. We were only 11 months apart in age, so we were extremely close growing up. They say that girls are more emotionally mature than boys, so there was a period of a few years there where I think she was elder sibling, even if not chronologically. I had become so accustomed to having her around, even if she was huddled in the corner of the room with her nose buried in a book. I was accepted to a few schools, but I stayed local. I know she is one of the reasons. Even though she never expresses so, I know it isn't easy for her at school. She has a few friends, but they're high-strung honor students with whom she has little in common, other than academics. I am her best friend. Who am I kidding? She's mine. Even though I was something of a jock, I dated regularly, and I had my buds, she was still my closest friend in the world.

"Michelle!" Mom called up the stairs. "Michelle! Breakfast!" I heard a rumbling then a loud thump upstairs, followed by a few choice expletives. My sister came stumbling down the stairs, clutching her left foot, jacket half off, books in a precarious stack on one arm, bag slung across her body. She was such a klutz. It's a miracle she made it down in one piece.

"Sorry! I spent a little too much time in the bathroom this morning." Michelle dropped everything on the floor behind her chair. She threw her body into the chair next to me. Her dark brown hair was still damp from the shower, and hung loosely down the middle of her back. Her big almond shaped hazel colored eyes had a tinge of color; they must have been bloodshot from another night of studying. She yawned a huge yawn, stretching her arms high above her head, which pulled her flannel top open a little more than she probably intended. Her breasts, which were rather large for her frame, strained against the dark green tank top she was wearing. I caught myself staring and quickly looked away. My sister was beautiful. She wasn't aware of how beautiful she was, which made her all that much more beautiful. I reached across the table and handed her the carafe of orange juice. I knew it was part of her morning ritual. I knew all of her rituals, her habits, her needs.

"Thanks Mathy" She smiled warmly. Her childhood nickname for me stuck, but at some point a few years ago my parents stopped using it. She never did, and rarely called me anything else. She took the carafe and nudged my shoulder with hers in appreciation.

"Any Friday night or weekend plans, kids?" Dad finally put down his newspaper and started gulping his coffee. He wasn't grilling us. As far as rules and curfews, our parents were very easygoing on us. I think it's because we were both never in any real trouble. In fact, my mom half-hoped we'd rebel a little and do something out of character.

"Kelsey is coming over after school today and we're going over some AP Chem stuff," said Michelle between bites of her English Muffin. "Nothing planned this weekend." She licked the crumbs off her bee stung lips. I felt inappropriate heat between my legs.

The three of them glanced over at me. "I've got an Anthro paper. I'll probably hole myself up in my room this weekend and work on it." I wasn't in any mood to go anywhere. I hadn't been on a date in over two months. Most of my high school buddies were gone. My job was only Tuesdays and Thursdays. Maybe it was depression, I don't know, but the idea of spending an entire weekend in the house didn't seem all that bad.

Mom's brows knotted in concern. "Do you want to join me and your dad in Santa Barbara?"

"Yeah Ma," Michelle chimed in, "That's exactly what a 19 year old boy wants to do: join his parents on a romantic anniversary weekend." She rolled her eyes as my dad chuckled.

"It's cool." I tried to act nonchalant. I knew Mom was already a little bit worried about me, I didn't want to give her a reason to fret while on her annual anniversary weekender. "There are a couple of concerts actually, I might go to one. I'd rather stay in town just in case I score tickets." (In my head: "Oh, I'll be in my room, frantically whacking off.") I saw Michelle's eyes get a little wide. She could always tell when I lied. My phone chimed in my pocket and I lifted it out. "So full of shit big bro" was the text on the screen. My sister was stealth-texting under the table again. "There's a bunch of stuff in town that I'd like to do this weekend, Mom." I lobbed the second attempt over the net.

That seemed to do the trick with Mom. I could tell by her body language that she relaxed a bit, and would be off my case. Michelle glanced at me realizing I'd conned Mom, and then when the parents were wrapped up in conversation about where they'd have their anniversary dinner, she winked at me. I scrunched my face and gave her a huge, cheeseball smile. She snort-laughed and we shared a moment.

"Can you drop me off at school Mathy?"

"Only if you're ready to go now. I need to stop at Target before class and I need to get going."

Michelle grabbed her stuff from the floor and shoved her backpack into my chest. She pushed so close I could smell her shampoo, her lotion, even her deodorant. They blended together and barely masked the natural, sweet scent that always seemed to linger on her skin. "Take this for me, will ya?" We gathered our things and bid our parents goodbye for the weekend; they'd be gone until Sunday night.

When we reached the car, Michelle threw open the back seat, and reached in, headfirst. "I think I dropped my headphones in your backseat a few days ago." I stood a few feet away, watching her wiggle her ass up in the air as she maneuvered in the back of my car, hunting for the earphones. Was it my imagination, or was she wearing tighter jeans than she ever had? Her tank top barely covered her midriff, and her flannel was now riding up her back, giving me a nice view of her jeans-covered ass. I was lost in thought, staring dully, mouth agape. I must have looked like quite a sight. "Shit!" she stuttered, before losing her feet slipped out from under her. Within seconds, she was doing a faceplant into the passenger side back seat. That clumsiness caught up with her, again. I threw her backpack into the passenger front seat, and hurried back to where her body was now slumped awkwardly in the back of my car. I gripped her hips and yanked her up, pulling her body toward me. She steadied herself by placing one hand on top of my car, and leaned back into me.

"Thanks." My right arm slipped down below her arms and around her waist. I pressed gently, and she relaxed her body back into mine. Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned my face forward and buried it in the back of her hair. I inhaled deeply. She pushed her body back against me, a little more firmly this time, and I whimpered. I could smell her lavender shampoo in her near-damp hair.

"Shelly..." I stammered out, but couldn't manage any more words. I squeezed tighter, but suddenly realized that the growing bulge in my jeans was pressing back into her ass. "Sorry. Sorry." I apologized for nothing in particular. I loosened my grip on her, and she chuckled.

"Getting sentimental in your old age, big brother?" Either she didn't notice the bulge, or she decided to ignore it. She beamed that beautiful smile that she rarely shared with anyone outside the family.

"I guess so. Maybe a little bit."

She smiled and slid her body into the front seat. I closed her door, and walked around the car to the driver's side. It gave me an opportunity to shift my growing cock in my pants, which was now feeling more uncomfortable than ever. I was also feeling like a complete and utter creep. I was so aroused by my own sister's body, I was practically panting.

The drive to school was quiet. Often, she would plug her iPod into the car's stereo and share some of her favorite songs with me, but this morning she spent the five minutes of our commute to her school thumbing through some of her chemistry notes.

"Need me to pick you up after school?"

"No. Kelsey and I are going to study, so she'll bring me home." She squinted her eyes and studied my face.

"OK. Text me if something changes."

She leaned over and kissed me. It was a gentle peck, mostly on the cheek, but the corner of her mouth brushed mine. "Thanks Mathy. Beats walking." I smiled and drank her in. She hovered just a few inches from my face. I reached my hand up and tugged a lock of her hair.

"You really are sentimental today. You ok?" She had the same worried look that Mom had earlier.

"Yeah. Yeah. It's good. I'm good." This time, I'm not sure I was convincing.

"We'll talk tonight," she offered, and grabbed her stuff, leaving my car. Everything suddenly felt empty and lonely, just like that.

As I drove off, I my head was muddled with thoughts of pain, of love, of arousal. Most of all: of guilt. I was entertaining impure thoughts about my sister.

********

I got home at 2 pm, and the house was empty. My parents had started their drive for their anniversary weekend, and Michelle wasn't home from school. I pulled the car more forward than usual in our drive, because Kelsey was as horrible at parking as she was at driving. In fact, there was a lot about Kelsey that was wrong. I decided that I'd make myself very scarce for her visit.

Once I got inside, I started a load of laundry and cleaned up my room a bit before deciding that I really needed to find something to clear my head. I felt like jerking off again, but didn't want to get started knowing that my sister and her friend would be home shortly. A jog seemed like a good idea.

For the first mile and a half, I could think of nothing but Michelle. For every fifth or sixth step, the thought of the curve of Michelle's hip or her ass or the scent of her neck would seep into my head, and I'd purge it out. The thought would come back, and I'd purge it again. I'd pick up my pace, run a little harder. This continued, step after step, until finally I stopped running and stood in place, gasping for air. I looked up and realized I had gotten further than I usually do before turning around, so I made the turn and hustled back in the direction of the house. When I got to the house, I was practically wheezing, and soak in sweat. Still no car in the driveway.

I stumbled up the stairs and stripped my clothes, dropping them in the hamper in my closet. I walked naked across the hall to the bathroom. It gave me a little thrill, because we weren't one of those "walk around naked" families. But no one was home, so what was the harm, right? I turned on the shower and got in, not even bothering to close the door. My head was still swimming, and despite the exertion, my erection was back with a vengeance. I thought about wanking it there in the shower, but after the last unsatisfying shower ejaculation, I thought I'd wait until I was in my room tonight.

In my post-run state, I forgot that my sister and Kelsey would be home. As soon as I turned off the water, I heard their voices. Kelsey's shrill, shrieking voice cut through the sound of Michelle's more muted, raspy voice. I reached for a towel and realized two things. First, the bathroom door was open, and at some point if they had walked past the bathroom (which they must have had to do in order to get to Michelle's room), they would have seen my naked body, right through the shower glass. It must have been of my backside, because I didn't see them walk. The second thing I realized was that I was in the bathroom without any clothes, and would have to walk out into the hallway, past Michelle's room, to get to my bedroom and some clothes. I looked on the back of the bathroom door for my dad's robe, but it was gone; he must have packed it on his trip. The meager little bath towel would have to do. I wrapped it firmly around my waist. I didn't even bother to dry my body. I just wanted to scramble into my room, get the door closed, and get dressed.

For a brief moment, I entertained the thought of asking Michelle to bring me some clothes, but then I thought that seemed silly. I was overreacting.

I ran quickly into the hallway and past Michelle's room. I must have been nothing but a blur, because they both snapped their heads up but didn't say anything. I got to my room and closed the door, and not two seconds later was someone there, knocking.

"Yo, kid. It's Kelsey."

Shit. I just wanted to ignore her. "Hey Kelsey. What's going on?"

"You going to open the door?"

"Sorry, getting dressed."

"I don't mind." She said it in the most obnoxious, exaggerated flirtatious voice. Nothing subtle about this girl.

"Right," I chuckled. "Well I'll be out in a few."

"I'll be in your sister's room," she said, then dropped her voice unnaturally a couple of octaves, "I'll be waiting for you." She was such a boner killer. I glanced down and noticed that everything going on earlier around my crotch had settled.

I threw myself onto my bed, letting my still-wet back dampen the sheets. I needed to change the sheets anyway, I reasoned. I quickly dried off and threw on some pull-on basketball shorts and a t-shirt.

********

"Knock knock." I stood in the doorway of Michelle's room. The girls were huddled over her desk, and displayed on her monitor was one of a series of photos from a beach day trip they took a few months earlier. There were five girls, and of the five, Michelle stood out in every photo as the most stunning. She was in a black bikini, but it wasn't too skimpy. Her natural thick, wavy brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders to her breasts. Her narrow waist flared out to perfect hips. Her legs were lean, toned and unblemished. The skin on her entire body was so soft, and even though she was fairly pale, her skin had a beautiful glow.

They looked back at me for a moment, and turned back to the photos.

"We're just putting up the pics from this album onto Facebook. Kelsey thinks we'll score some hot guys in school if we do," Michelle said, rolling her eyes.

"Know any college guys who might want to hit this?" Kelsey sputtered, putting her hands behind her head and contorting into an awkward, mock pinup girl pose.

"I'm sure there must be some," I politely offered. I wasn't having any part of her flirting, but didn't want to seem callous.

"OK ladies, I'm ordering pizza for dinner. Speak now about what toppings you'd like, or you'll be stuck eating whatever I get."

"Kelsey isn't going to be here," Michelle said, not taking her eyes off what she was doing on the computer. "It'll just be you and me, you know what I like." I know she meant on her pizza, but my dick twitched at the way she said the words "you know what I like". She was still captioning photos, and I was still riveted by them. Even from a few feet away, I could make out quite a bit of detail.

"I can stay for dinner if you want the company," said Kelsey. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or to Michelle. I didn't want to chance it, so I responded, "That's ok. You go ahead and do whatever it is you had planned, we're fine."

"Suit yourself," she said, "But I am a good time. You're missing out."

Michelle laughed, assuming that Kelsey was joking. Meanwhile, Kelsey was still looking back toward me, leering at me. She glanced down toward my crotch, where I know there were signs of life, because I was still enthralled by the beach photos. I excused myself to my room, and spend the next few hours working on a paper. By the time I ordered the pizza (with Michelle's favorite toppings, of course), Kelsey was gone, and mercifully she didn't pop by my room to say goodbye.

I arranged two plates, cloth napkins, silverware, and two wine goblets at the dining room table. I opened a bottle of wine. Our parents were fairly liberal about letting us drink beer or wine at home, and we rarely did. I also made a couple of small bowls of salad. I lit some very under-used candles. I almost chickened out and blew out the candles, when I heard Michelle behind me, "Very nice big bro! If only I could score a date with a guy who would do this!"

"It's just pizza," I must have been blushing.

"So? This is the way you get into a girl's pants!" she winked. "Are you practicing on me?"

I started to talk but just stammered. My cock was again springing to life, even though in my mind I knew everything she was saying was in jest. My body was not cooperating. I pulled her chair out, then hurried over to my side of the table and sat, dropping the napkin into my uncooperative lap. I scooted my chair in as close to the table as possible. My dick was rock hard and aching, and it didn't help that Michelle was now wearing a tank top with no bra, and pajama shorts.We ate mostly in silence, just occasionally making small talk. The wine was making me feel warm. At least, I think it was the wine.

"What do you think Mom and Dad are doing right now?" I wondered out loud.

"Blow job, a little fingering, a little penetration...." I couldn't believe she just said that. My sister was never this bawdy. I turned ten different shades of red.

"Gross, Shelly. Those are our parents you're talking about. We were the result of immaculate conception."

"Oh come on, Mathy. You think they don't do it? They probably do it all of the time. Good for them. At least someone in this house is getting some."

"You're not getting some?"

"Me? No. Not some. Not any."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Just no one interested in me."

"Bullshit."

"OK, let me qualify that: there is no one interested in fucking me that I'd also let fuck me."

"Fair enough." I really wanted to change the subject. Just hearing her say the last sentence made me want to blow a load in my pants, without even touching myself.

I looked up and she was studying me. I shifted a little uncomfortably, and she glanced back down at her plate, smiling just a little. I think she knew I was uncomfortable, and she liked it. My sister wasn't sadistic, what was that all about?

When we were finally done eating, she offered to clean up since I set up dinner. She took our plates and went to the kitchen, and I took the opportunity to run upstairs out of her site, my raging hard-on leading the way.

When I made it up to my room, I closed the door and ripped off my shirt and dropped my pants right away. This time, I knew I could blow a good load. I knew it was wrong, but my body was again overriding my brain; I dropped myself into my computer chair, browsed to my sister's Facebook page, and pulled up one of those shots of her on the beach. She was posed with four of her friends. She was standing on the end, and while the rest of the girls had big smiles, she was looking at the camera with a smoldering intensity.

"Uhnnnnn," I groaned, as soon as the page loaded. I was pumping pretty hard by now, and slowed down because for the first time in a while, it felt really good. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I pushed back from the desk a little and stretched my legs out. I was now stroking a little slower and would periodically open my eyes to glance at the photo. Each time I did, it brought me closer to the edge. Finally, I decided to let myself cum.

I was now staring so hard at the computer, I didn't notice my bedroom door open. My dick started to spew a thick, creamy rope of semen. I was so caught up I didn't even have something on hand to catch it, which is something I almost always did. "Guhhhh," I moaned and out of the corner of my eye I saw her. Michelle was standing just two feet away from me, a step in past the doorway, and her eyes were on my spouting cock. Her eyes on me made me feel like I was going to come even harder. I felt like I was going to black out from sheer pleasure. It took me a second before I realized, "This isn't right." I gasped and stumbled out of the chair, trying to cover my spewing cock. There was no covering it though, and no stopping it. Two more thick ribbons of cum shot out, over my and and onto the carpet in front of her feet. I turned my body and lurched for my bed, grabbing for my shorts.

"Shit! Shit Michelle, I'm sorry! Don't you knock! Why didn't you knock? Shit!"

She stood, frozen, and for the first time since walking in on me, her eyes moved up to my face.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" She stood wide-eyed while she made her apology. Then she did what I hoped she wouldn't do: she looked over to my computer monitor. There it was, taking up practically the full screen. The beach photo. For a second, she looked like her knees wobbled, but she braced herself on the door frame. "Sorry," this time more quiet, "I'll let you clean up."

She ran out of my room and down the hall toward her own room. I was mortified. I was mortified that she saw me, and mortified that I was so completely aroused, and that I'd cum so hard.

I grabbed my towel from my shower earlier and wiped myself down quickly, then pulled on my shorts. I hurried down the hall to her room to apologize and think up some kind of excuse. When I got to her doorway, I stopped cold. She was on her bed, on her side, facing away from the door. Oh god, she's sobbing, I thought. I made her cry. I saw her back shudder, and I ran in to put my hand on her shoulder and comfort her. It wasn't until I got close enough to touch her that I saw that she wasn't crying. Both of her hands were between her legs, and one hand was in her panties. She was rubbing herself. Rubbing hard. She was in the throes of an orgasm. Before I could stop myself, I lowered myself to sitting right behind her, and placed my hand on her back. I could feel the bed rock from how her hand was moving. She let out a very load moan, and pressed both hands firmly against her mound. I was hard again. A little grunt escaped my throat.

Her eyes opened and she leaned back, looking up at me. "Is this because you're mad?" Her voice was very quiet. "Are you mad that I walked in on you?"

"No, it was an accident."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to tell you I was sorry."

She shifted her body to a sitting position, and now we were facing each other. She had her hands placed delicately in her lap, and I could see the glimmering from her juices on her fingers. I wanted so badly to touch her fingers, to feel the moisture, but I resisted.

"Do you want me to call Kelsey for you? She'll go out with you," she offered.

"Wait, what?" I was utterly confused. "You think because I masturbate that I need a date or something?"

"No," she said, equally confused. "It's just that you were looking at the beach photo, and I saw her flirting with you earlier, so I just figured-"

"No, Michelle, I'm not interested in her."

"Oh. One of the other girls in the picture? Jessica?"

"No, not Jessica."

"Was it just one of those 'girls in bikinis' things?" She was fishing.

I had a decision to make. I wasn't sure why, but I decided I wanted to be truthful with her. "It was you. You make my dick hard." That last part was barely audible.

She gasped. I couldn't believe I was so bold. I also couldn't believe how bold she was about to get.

"Is it hard right now? Guys have a refractory period, right? So it probably won't be hard for a while now that you've cum?"

I sighed. "It's hard again. It's almost always hard when you're around. I'm sorry."

She looked at my lap. She reached over and gently moved my arm away. I could feel her fingers, which were now a little sticky. "Can I see it?"

My eyes got wide. Was she asking me to take it out of my shorts? She had already gotten a pretty good look in my room. That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn't put two and two together. The site of me cumming made her run to her room to touch herself. Again, my dick lurched in my shorts.

She reached with her other hand and held on to my waistband. As she pulled the waistband away, she reached in with her hand and grabbed onto my dick. Her hands were so soft, even if a little sticky. I groaned and bit my lip. She bit her lip too, and leaned herself closer. My dick was so hard it was up against my stomach. She pulled it away a bit, and lowered my waistband even more. She loosened and tightened her grip a couple of times, weighing my dick, pulling it, feeling its ridges and veins. She slid her thumbs up and down it. "It seems big," she offered.

"It's just...average," I was having a hard time forming complete sentences.

She began to stroke it more decisively, and I grabbed on to her wrists. "Please stop. Please."

"That doesn't feel good?" It came out in a whisper.

"No, it feels really good. Too good. You're going -- uhhhh -- to make me cum... if you keep doing that." I stuttered the entire time.

"Isn't that a good thing? She was gasping and breathy. She slowed her strokes, but leaned her head forward toward mine until our foreheads were touching. We both closed our eyes. I moved my hands to her waist.

"Mathy, does this make you feel guilty?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Uhhhhhhhh," it was her turn to moan. I couldn't believe this was turning her on.

"I'm so horny," she admitted. "I want you to touch me so badly."

"I'm your brother," this came out more as a question than a statement of fact. It was as though I was trying to explain why I wouldn't, but I knew my resolve wasn't going to be very strong.

"I won't tell," she promised. "Please, just touch me a little right now, and you won't ever have to do it again, and I won't tell anyone," her stroking was now a little more quick and firm.

"Shelly...." I was lost. If I hadn't cum just a few minutes before, her strokes would have had me bursting by now. It felt too good.

"Please?" she panted.

I couldn't refuse her. I could never refuse her. "If I do this and touch you, I'm not going to want to stop. I'll never stop."

She whimpered and took her hand off my cock, pressing her entire body forward onto me. Her lips met mine, and at first her kiss was soft and gentle, but still a little insistent. Her hands were up by my face. I pulled her tank top up over her breasts, and moved both hands up from her stomach, palms down. I pressed into the area just below her breasts, then gripped around her ribs. She moaned, and we kissed harder. I slid my tongue forward and brushed it across her lower lip. The taste of her mouth made me dizzy. Slowly, she slid her tongue forward, and the tips of our tongues met. Within a minute, I was kneading her firm, full breasts, and our tongues were pressing into eachother's mouths. Her nipples were like firm pebbles underneath my hands. I moved my palms over them, feeling them react.

I pulled her body off mine, and placed her carefully next to me on the bed. I wanted to see her, see all of her. As my eyes were drinking her in, she pulled my shorts off entirely, then undressed herself. We lay like that, side by side, glancing our hands softly over eachother's bodies. I couldn't remember any moment of my life that was more perfect than this one. Her skin was so soft, and certain parts of her would raise up into goosebumps as my fingers trailed over them. I leaned in and kissed her shoulder. She took my hand, and kissed it.

After what was probably only ten or fifteen minutes of this, but felt like hours, she arched her back and reached over with one hand, gripping my cock. She put her other hand between her legs. We moaned at the same time. She began to stroke me slowly, and press into her own pussy. I moved her hand away with one of mine, and slid two fingers up and down her slit. She was soaked. I wanted so badly to taste her, but it felt like everything we were doing was so slow, so careful, I didn't want to spoil it.

I very carefully slid in a finger. "Mmmmmm," her voice was barely there.

"Shelly. Shelly, if you keep doing that, it's going to make me cum." Her hand was not moving more quickly on my cock, and I in turn sped up moving my finger in and out of her now dripping pussy. "Shelly. Slow down."

I knew what was inevitable, and I didn't know what to do. Even though I already came not long before, I was close once again. Would I let her do it? Would I let her take me over the edge? The thought of her coming in contact with my cum sent a shock through my body, and that was enough to do it. As I felt the cum quickly bubbling up in my balls, I pressed my thumb over her clit, and began to flick furiously. Her body was so responsive, she immediately shuddered, and her pussy clenched around my two inserted fingers. I tried to focus on her body, her tight pussy gripping around my fingers, her hardened clit under my thumb, foolishly hoping it would delay my own orgasm. As my hand sent her spiraling into a powerful, body-convulsing orgasm for her, I uttered, "God, Michelle. You're so beautiful! You're so beautiful when you cum!"

Her breathing was uneven and she moved one hand up to her head to clear her hair out of her face. In the passion of her climax, he had stopped stroking my cock. She started up again.

"Watch out --- watch out Michelle --- I'm going to --- oh gg-g-od -- I'm cumming!" She ignored my warning, scooting her body down the bed so her entire upper body was hovering over my purple, pulsing cock. She squeezed the tip and I groaned. Then, she started pumping her hand up and down faster and faster, until I couldn't contain it anymore. I hollered, and despite the copious amount of cum that had expelled from my body in my room, I came again, and hard. Stream after stream of milky white cum shot out of me with more force than I have ever felt. The first spurt landed over her hand, just above where she gripped me. A second arced up and landed on the left side of Michelle's chin, slowly dripping onto her chest. Another hit on her face, just above her upper lip and under her nose. The last two landed squarely over her glorious tits. I closed my eyes for just a moment as I felt the room spin. I opened them, and saw her lift her cum-covered hand to her face. She reached her tongue out to first lick the stray drop that had landed below her nose, then she placed the top of her hand against her open mouth and sucked in what was left on her hand. She glanced down to her chest, where the other drops had landed. Using her hand, she smeared the drops into her skin, while she closed her eyes and hummed appreciatively. "Does it always taste like that?" I didn't know what to say.

I couldn't move an inch of my body. I was afraid she would come to her senses, and realize what we had done was wrong. She lowered her body next to mine, resting her head on my arm. I squeezed her in tighter. Her soft body molded perfectly to mine. "Wait," I said, "Can we get under the covers?" She glanced up at me with those big gorgeous eyes and nodded. There wasn't an ounce of regret on her face. We shifted our bodies momentarily so we could pull the covers down beneath our spent bodies.

"Mathy, will you stay the night? Or at least a little while?"

"If you want me."

"I want you."

"I mean if you want me to stay here."

"I do. And I want you."

"If I stay, I may not be able to stop. It might not stop, Shelly. I might do something to you that you don't want."

"I want you to do what you want. I want you to do everything."

I pulled the covers up over us and pulled her in close to me.

"I love you Shelly."

"I love you big brother."

I didn't know what the rest of the weekend had in store for us. Or the rest of our lives. But that moment in the afterglow of what we had done was perfect.