Beautiful Mourning

I couldn't believe the news. My best friend was going to be my new stepsister.

My father was a widower, my mother having died when I was just four. We had moved cities when I was five, as Dad couldn't stand living in the same house he had shared with Mom.

We weren't the only ones. A single mom moved into the house next door a month later, bringing her five-year-old son with her. Naturally, we boys bonded quickly. We told each other everything.

Of course, it did not come as a surprise when Ken told me he was actually a woman. Her mom had a very nice payout when her dad had died, and was able to get her the hormones she needed. Kate had gone through puberty and become a very pretty young woman. And we'd remained the best of friends.

Kate's mom and my dad, both unattached, both sharing the bond of losing a spouse, gradually drew closer together. But I really didn't think they'd actually get married.

Thus, it came as a great surprise when Kate strolled over one day. "Vince, my mom and your dad are engaged."

"So... we'll be... step-siblings?"

"Um... yes. Once it goes through."

Several months later, it did go through. Dad sold his house, Kate's mom sold hers, and the two of them -- and us -- moved into a spacious new place. By now Kate and I were about to graduate from high school.

And it stayed that way as Kate and I finished college at the local four-year. We even both got stable, though low-paying, employment after we graduated. We saw no reason to move out of our very nice living quarters, even if our parents were still in the house with us.

October 21 started like many other days. We kids went off to work, and our parents drove out to the park to picnic and people-watch. But we hadn't counted on the prison break.

The escaped prisoners, armed with guns, seized the park and took hostages, including our parents. The SWAT team estimated that a frontal attack would only lose 25% of the hostages and kill every escapee, who had refused all efforts to negotiate. "The only way you'll get me back in prison is inside a bodybag," the leader of the escapees had said during the attempted negotiations.

He got his bodybag. As did all the other escapees. And the SWAT team leader's estimate wasn't far wrong. 28% -- 14 out of 50 hostages taken -- were lost. Unfortunately, those 14 included our parents.

The police broke the news to us when we returned from work. Kate and I were, naturally, devastated.

Money wasn't an issue. The house was owned free and clear, and passed to us. Both our parents left a considerable sum in life insurance. And by "considerable sum", I mean 7 figures. They also had in their wills that if they died simultaneously and the kids -- us -- were under 25, which was the case (we were both 23), most of the money would be put into 30-year T-bills, leaving us each 100,000 plus expenses for funeral, etc and letting us live off the interest, until we got the principal back after 30 years. Presumably by the time we hit our 50's, we'd be mature enough not to blow the money.

Neither Kate nor I touch alcohol. That's never a good way to deal with bad things. The bad things are still there, plus you're drunk.

We walked over to the couch and sat down. The crying took about an hour, then that was done. Oh, we'd still miss our parents every single day for the rest of our lives. But the part of grieving that involved crying was over.

Obviously, we still weren't exactly cheerful. Somehow, it seemed natural for Kate to scoot over on the couch and nestle against me. I wrapped my arms around her and just silently held her. The close contact made both of us feel less sad.

We broke apart to use the restroom, then went straight back to the couch and resumed me holding her, with her head on my chest. No words were passed: none were needed.

After a while, I looked at the clock on the table and found we'd been quietly sitting there for four hours. It was almost 10:30.

"We'd better call our jobs and request time off."

"I guess so."

We both spoke to a night shift manager. Both managers were very understanding. Obviously, word had gotten around, and they knew already that our parents were killed. We were told to take a week off.

"Vince?"

"Yes, Kate?"

"Would you mind sleeping in my bed with me and holding me? It's... comforting."

"I wouldn't in the least mind."

The first night, that's all we did was hold each other. And the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh.

By now, it had become a habit for us to sleep in the same bed. We continued doing so after the week was up and we returned to our jobs. That gave us both a slight feeling of normalcy, but we wouldn't be "over" what happened for a long time, if ever.

It was about six weeks after the incident that something new happened. I was in bed, holding Kate, and she turned in my arms to face me.

"Vince?"

"Yes, Kate?"

She moved her lips forward and lightly pressed them against mine. I tensed up momentarily, then relaxed.

"Thank you."

The next night, she kissed me again, and this time I let her slip her tongue inside my mouth. That's as far as we went for two more weeks. Every night, kissing.

I was both surprised and not surprised when one night in bed, Kate removed her shirt, exposing her breasts.

"Would you mind kissing my chest?"

"I will kiss your chest with pleasure, Kate."

I kissed slowly down Kate's neck, then made my way to the top of her breasts. I kissed every inch of them, slowly and tenderly, then kissed down her cleavage.

"Suck my nipples, please."

I obligingly took a nipple in my mouth and suckled. Kate purred, then used her arms to secure my face where it was. I alternated between her nipples for a while.

We did that for another month, and Kate took to removing my shirt and kissing my chest as well. I had to admit it felt good.

I knew what we were leading towards, but I was quite content to let Kate set the pace. Then one night, she stripped entirely and asked me to, as well.

"I want more from you than just kissing."

"Whatever you desire, Kate."

We did start with something familiar. First she kissed my chest, then I kissed and suckled her breasts. She instructed me to caress her legs while I suckled, and I obliged.

Then she guided my mouth from her chest down over her belly and towards her pole. I hadn't realized that she was slightly larger than me in that department.

"Start by kissing the head, Vince."

"Okay, Kate."

I gave the bulbous head of her erect pole soft kisses. Next, she had me use my tongue and take the whole tip in my mouth. Soon, under her guidance, I was taking her rod halfway down and licking along the shaft.

She then had me kiss and lick her heavy balls while I slowly stroked her. Her breathing seemed to deepen. I ran my tongue from the base all the way to the tip and back.

"That does feel great. But I don't want to cum in your mouth tonight."

With that, Kate positioned me on all fours. She rubbed her cockhead at the entrance to my pucker.

"Be gentle, please."

"Of course."

She moved it inwards a millimeter at a time, letting my body adjust. Eventually, she was buried to the hilt. She then pulled back maybe a centimeter and pushed back in, very slowly.

"You're so tight. I won't last long."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Very much so."

By the time Kate got a slow rhythm going, my cock was hard and Kate's body was tensing up. Sure enough, she didn't last long. It was... interesting, to have her fill me. Not unpleasant, but something I would have to get used to.

She pulled out and got on her hands and knees. "Your turn."

I did the same thing she did. Moved in very slowly, to let her adjust.

"I know I came kind of quick. Sorry. If you cum quickly, I won't be offended."

"I'll do my best to hold out."

It wasn't easy. Kate was incredibly tight, and even moving slowly, I felt the cum boiling up in my balls.

"Oh no..."

I filled her rear with my sperm. Then I pulled out.

"I guess we both needed a release," Kate smiled as she led me to the shower. "I assume we'll both last longer tomorrow."

It had been a long time since either of us had climaxed before tonight, I realized.

"You're right."

We cleaned up and climbed back into the bed. The next evening, we engaged in a 69, and both of us did last a lot longer.

"Now what?" I asked her as we snuggled afterwards.

"Now we keep on keeping on," Kate grinned. "I love you, Vince."

"I love you too, Kate."

And we have indeed kept on keeping on. We don't have sex every night, but we have it quite often.