Blessings Ch. 04

Short, golden-brown hair covered most of her pubic region, but the way she was sitting, with her knees parted just enough, offered him an intriguing view of her slit and just a hint of the glisteningly moist pinkness within.

"I want you," he said, blurting the words in a moment of clarity.

She giggled a moment. "I kind of guessed that."

He shook his head, wishing he could make her understand. "No, I want you." He combed through the curls of her pubic hair, making her shudder. "I want your body," he said. He touched her cheek, and again, she shuddered. "I want all of you."

"Then take me," she whispered.

He nodded and took hold of the panties still wrapped around her knees. He slid them down her calves and over her tiny feet. He put the slip of cotton to his nose and inhaled her essence once more. He wanted to burn the scent into his brain, just in case he lost the courage to continue. He dropped the panties on the floor and gazed hungrily between her parted legs. She appeared pinker and more swollen than she had a moment ago. Bending forward he ran his tongue along her drooling slit, adding his own saliva to the mixture. He tasted the delicate folds of her labia, so pink and delicious. He licked her again, finding the protuberance of her little clit. She gasped when he found that.

Her thighs climbed up on his shoulders; her calves and heels collided with his back. She moaned something about God or Jesus or someone all powerful and relaxed against the back of the sofa. She remained passive for a while as he lapped the moisture from her body. He concentrated on the pink folds and the little button, but every once in a while he would offer a kiss to the insides of her thighs, the cheeks of her buttocks, or the light trail of fuzz that led to her belly button.

He knew she enjoyed his attentions because of the soft mewls she made and the way she tossed her head every now and again. But he wanted to make her feel better than she ever had in her life. He wanted her to forget about every man she'd ever been with, to compare this night and his tongue to every man she would ever be with. He got angry thinking about Amanda and other men. He forced his tongue into her vagina, trying his best to penetrate her. She gasped again, louder, and tried to close her thighs. As she bucked with an orgasm, Kevin reached up to manipulate her stiff little clit with his thumb. She bucked harder, grinding her soft, curly pussy against his face. Her hips slowed as her climax ebbed. Her thighs relaxed. He ceased lapping and went back to delivering gentle kisses to her lower belly.

His hardness caused him discomfort. He hoped that her passion hadn't been quenched.

He joined her on the couch. His heart skipped when she climbed on his lap. She tasted herself on his lips, evidently finding the flavor as pleasing as he had. He held her hips through the silky fabric of the nightgown and lowered his hands to rub her thighs. He loved her legs. She used to complain that they were too fat, but that was just ridiculous. Besides, bony legs didn't do it for him. He liked legs with shape, with substance.

"Kevin?" she kissed his neck and felt his chest through his t-shirt. "I want to make you feel good, too." She removed his shirt and touched his uncovered upper body. "Please let me make you feel good." He nodded and stood. She helped him unfasten his jeans. He let her draw them down his long legs. She grabbed the elastic waist of his boxers and looked up, as if waiting for permission. His eyebrows rose, silently coaxing her to continue. She did. The cool air was instantly negated by the warmth of her breath. She took the shaft in her fist, eliciting a groan from Kevin.

She looked up, as if hoping for instruction. "I'm not very good at sucking it," she admitted. His disappointment was tempered by the realization that lack of skill equaled a lack of experience. No one wanted to discover that their baby sister was a polished cocksucker.

"You don't have to," he said. But she frowned at that and kissed the head of his dick. He felt his toes dig into the discarded blankets. When she kissed it a second time he almost fell over. She put it in her mouth, but it was too much too fast, and she took it out again with a gag and a cough. She opened her mouth to try again, but he stopped her.

"I want to make you feel good," she pouted.

He looked at the wad of blankets under his feet. He knelt down to smooth them out. "I want to make us feel good," he said. With so many lines not only crossed but obliterated, Kevin saw no reason not to cross the final line. He needed to be inside of her; he had decided that the very first time he tasted her. He didn't want to risk making a mess on the sofa, and he didn't want to break the spell by going to her room. They could do it here on the floor. Whatever romance the living room floor lacked would be made up for by the glow of the Christmas tree and the warmth of the fire.

But only if she wanted it. He prayed that she did. He kissed her white thigh, kissed her knee, and blew cold air on the moisture trail he left. She shuddered and laughed, and touched the goose bumps he'd raised. "Do you want it?" he asked. His eyes, which had been studying the golden-brown curls between her legs, rose and met her own.

She chewed her lip, eyeing the bed of fleece blankets he had made on the floor. "I do, but I'm afraid," she admitted. It wasn't her first time; he knew it wasn't her first time. But it was their first time, and that made it different. She, no doubt, wanted it to be perfect, just like him.

She knelt on the blankets next to him. She touched his chest and kissed his chin. He reached for the hem of her nightgown, which had fallen over her hips, covering her treasure. "Rip that sucker open," she teased, repeating the words he had used while she toyed with the wrapping on her present. He didn't heed her advice. He wanted to see her in that nightgown again, almost as much as he wanted to see her out of it. He slowly slid the hem up her body, revealing her pale perfection one inch at a time. He saw the brown curls that covered the pussy he had just feasted on, and longed to feast on again. He saw the seductive curve of her hips, the smoothness of her belly. And he saw her magnificent breasts; when they bobbed free from the nightgown's lace bodice, he thought he would faint.

They were as perfect as he always imagined, two youthful teardrops just beginning to show signs of sagging. He cupped his palm over one fleshy handful. He squeezed, not too hard, and released. The white flesh showed pink fingerprints, marks that slowly faded away. He molded his hands over both of them at once, trying to feel every contour. He squeezed them gently and weighed them in his palms. For the most part, she indulged his infatuation. When she rolled her eyes and mumbled "men," he knew he should find some other form of entertainment. He found something just as fascinating, her pretty pink nipples. They were stiff from his attentions, standing out like two fleshy pencil erasers. He brushed them with his thumbs, causing her to inhale sharply. Her areolas were just as sensitive as her nipples. He traced circles around the rosy pink discs, eliciting gasps and squirms. He knew he had to taste her. He sucked the fleshy nubbin capping her right breast into his mouth. He licked it and nipped it. The instinct to nurse was too strong. He applied suction, drawing the sensitive flesh as far into his mouth as he could. Again, Amanda indulged him; she cradled his head and stroked his back as he feasted on her sweet and salty flesh. She whispered encouragement, telling him how good it felt, but when he released the nipple to try its twin, he noticed the little bruise forming where he'd treated her pristine flesh too roughly. He touched the yellowing spot and apologized. She stroked his back again and fed him the other nipple. He was gentler.

Sated, he kissed his way up the expanse of her bosom, kissed her shoulder, and kissed her neck. "Are you ready?" he whispered as he kissed and nipped her ear. She reclined on the blanket and demurely parted her thighs. She was ready.

The first contact, that moment when the tip of his penis first penetrated into her warm, wet sheath, almost made him cum. He screwed up his face and backed away from her, breaking the contact. When he had sufficiently cooled, he tried again. Slowly he entered her, enjoying the tightness. He was careful not to hurt her. He wasn't huge in that department, but everything was in proportion to the rest of his body, and she was so much smaller than him. When he was part of the way in, she turned her head to the side and released an agonized grunt. He wanted to stop, but she assured him that she wasn't hurt. He continued nudging until he was all the way in. She grunted again and showed her teeth.

"I can stop," he said. "I can do you with my mouth again."

"Will you just fuck me already?" she said. He backed his hips and thrust into her. Her chin reached for the ceiling and her breasts wobbled. He repeated the motion and she grunted. She sounded pleased rather than pained. They found a steady rhythm. The hiss of their breath was joined by the steady beat of their bodies coming together.

Her curvy legs curled around his thighs. Her hips rose to meet his. She was not in the least bit passive. He liked that. He lowered himself to kiss her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. The fact that their bodies were now doubly connected gave him an added thrill. Breaking the kiss, he resumed his thrusts. Her legs spread wider; her hips stilled. Her head tilted back. She opened her mouth but no sounds escaped. She looked at him intently. Her hips moved again, bucking faster than ever before. Her thighs closed like a vice around him. She squeaked and tilted her head again.

He felt the convulsions deep within her body. Her vaginal walls gripped his dick, milking it. That was enough. He reached for her flattened breasts just as the first spray coated her insides. He manipulated her erect nipple as he sprayed again and again. His whole body locked in the process. An incredible feeling started in his toes. It climbed the length of his body, causing his nostrils to flare, and his eyebrows to twitch. The feeling went back down again, like a geyser that had played itself out.

His limp, sticky dick fell out of her. A trickle of milky liquid followed. He watched his cum pool on the fleece blanket beneath her butt.

Freedom from the sexual frenzy meant a return to reality. "Are you safe?" he asked.

"I had my period a few days ago." That didn't answer his question.

As jarring as reality was, it was no match for the beauty of Amanda's naked body. The glow of sex only served to enhance that beauty. Sweat had formed on her back. The fleece blanket was damp and so was she.

"I better wash this," Kevin said. Mom had sewn that fleece blanket herself. She would be furious if he stained it. He wadded the blankets and stuffed them under his arm. He frowned as she slipped the black nightgown back over her body.

She handed him her wadded up cotton panties. "Could you wash these? You made them awfully sticky and messy."

He felt his penis twitch. He wanted to take her again, right there on the carpet. But he opted to avoid Mom's wrath by doing the laundry.

He tossed the red blankets in the sudsy washing machine and started the agitation. He had placed Amanda's panties on top of the dryer. He touched the puddle of gray fabric. The crotch was still a little slick from her arousal. He put the panties to his face and inhaled with his nose and with his mouth. She had to be an angel because she smelled like heaven.

"I never knew my big brother was a perv." The voice startled him, but he made no move to hide the panties or to move them from his nose. "A panty fetish, really Kevin?" the words were not meant to hurt, only to tease, and, perhaps, excite.

"I'm only a pervert with yours," he admitted, tossing them to her.

Her lips curved slyly. She wore a purple jersey bathrobe, but the sash was open, revealing the black lace nightgown beneath. "Then keep them. Hide them in your sock drawer. Or better still, under your pillow. Every night you can smell them and dream of me." She held the fabric to his nose. He wanted to tell her he already dreamed of her.

She put the panties in his hand. "I can't believe you never tried to sniff Cassie's," she said.

The name of his girlfriend was so invasive. Even mentioning it made it feel like she had caught them in the act.

It felt like there was a rock in the pit of Kevin's stomach. He was a cheater. No matter the circumstances, no matter how strongly he loved Mandy, he had committed himself to Cassie. He had bought the ring that symbolized that commitment. He felt sick. And seeing the afterglow on Amanda's beautiful face, and the beads of sweat rolling down the cleavage of her perfect breasts only made him sicker.

"Cassie," he mumbled. "I can't do this to Cassie." His feet shuffled clumsily, like they were asleep.

"What are you doing?" Amanda asked. She seemed amused at first, but when she looked into his eyes she became frightened. She tried to block his way, tried to get him to talk with her, but she was so small and could be moved so easily. "You can't!" he heard her scream up the basement stairs. "You can't do this to me; not after--" She was quiet except for a few muffled sobs. He could picture her leaning against the cold concrete wall, slowly slinking to the ground.

Hurting Mandy was the last thing he ever wanted. But he was such a fool for surrendering to her seductions. No, you stupid asshole, you wanted her. You wanted it. You've wanted Mandy like that forever, but you've been too god damned stupid to admit it. He ignored the chidings of his inner consciousness. His brain was far too drunk on hormones to be trusted. He functioned on instincts and the robotic morals that had been drilled into his head since birth. No matter his feelings for Amanda, whether real or lust-fueled fantasies, he was pledged to Cassie. As he stumbled into the living room, he realized Mandy's panties were still firmly in his grip. He stuffed them under the middle sofa cushion and hastily redressed. The fire had died. Amanda had turned out the Christmas tree lights. It was cold and dark, just like his apartment. He needed to go there. He needed to be away from Amanda. After stuffing his numb feet in his shoes, he went back to the basement stairs. The quiet was eerie, but he did hear a high-pitched sob break through the silence.

He thought about running downstairs, taking her in his arms, and apologizing. He would kiss away her tears. She would forgive him because she loved him without condition. She was his baby sister. But the guilt of what it would do to Cassie overwhelmed him, and he backed away from the stairs.

Amanda had much explaining to do when her parents returned home. Fortunately, Mom and Dad were a little tipsy from the party and accepted her story about Kevin's heat being restored at the apartment complex. She hoped they wouldn't call him.

Kevin never showed up on Christmas morning. The presents he'd bought for Mom and Dad were still under the tree. They had no idea if they should open them or not. They tried calling but his cell phone was turned off. He wasn't at Cassie's house either. Amanda opened her parent's gifts with unusual sloth. Mom and Dad opened their gifts. Mom loved the sneakers, and Dad promised to try out the new rod and reel as soon as the lake thawed. Mom opened the largest package last, the enormous box stuffed with new towels and washrags.

Mom held up a large burgundy bath towel."How great is this?" she asked, showing the towel to Dad. "I'll wash them all today, so we can throw out the old ones." She folded the towel and stacked it on its brethren. "Could you get your things out of the washer, sweetie?"

Amanda wondered what things, before remembering the blankets from yesterday. She felt her Christmas spirit deflate.

The dryer buzzer drew Amanda to the basement. She tiptoed past Mom, who was vacuuming the living room, preparing for company that would never come. Amanda made her way downstairs. She pulled the red fleece blankets out of the dryer. They were warm and when she tried to fold them they crackled with static electricity. She checked for stains but saw none. The blankets were clean. It was as if she and Kevin had never had sex. She wondered if that was how they would act from now on, like it had never happened. She hoped not. She wanted future family events to be marred by tensions. She wanted him to feel pain and sadness every time he looked at her. She wanted to give him knowing smiles as they passed in the hall and wicked little grins at the dinner table. She wanted to take his ugly little blonde children by the hand and make him wonder: What is she whispering to them? Is she telling them about us? It would be torture to be so close to him, but sweet torture. She wanted to make him squirm like a worm on a hook.

It was a pleasant fantasy, even if she loved him too much to actually carry any of it out. Folded blankets in hand, she turned to ascend the stairs. Mom was waiting, one hand on her hip, the other holding something limp and gray.

"Why were my daughter's undergarments beneath the sofa cushion?" Mom held Amanda's panties by the waistband. She dangled them for emphasis. "They wouldn't have anything to do with Kevin's sudden exile, would they? Amanda Crystal Armstrong, answer me!"

Amanda wrung her hands. Her silence and the freshly washed blankets in her arms were admission enough.

"Oh God, what did you do?" she asked, letting the panties flutter to the hard floor.

"You said it was okay," Amanda mumbled. "You said we could be happy." Her mother had said those things. Her silence seemed like a denial to Amanda. "You did!" Amanda insisted. "Why won't you look at me?"

She looked at Amanda, but only because she was pressed to do so.

"I love him, Mom. I told him that I did, and I showed him." She touched her breast. She was still a little sore from his attentions. "But I only made him miserable. I made him think he was some kind of animal for cheating on Cassie." She felt tears, warm, stinging tears. Then she felt her mother's arms around her body. She felt her mother's hands stroking the back of her head.

"It's not your fault." Mom tried to soothe. "You're just a baby." Amanda was twenty, but she feared her mother was right. "We shouldn't have put the idea in your head. We should have known better." She tried to blame herself. It made Amanda feel better for a moment, but she remembered it wasn't right. She had loved Kevin for a long time. Her parent's blessings had only made her realize how much.

"He's going to marry her," Amanda whispered into her mother's hair. Mom shushed her and said that she knew. "They'll be happy, and I'll be miserable and alone." Mom shushed her again. She promised Amanda would have her pick of suitors. Amanda conceded that she might not be alone. "But with anyone else I'll be miserable."

Mom kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. "Does he know how you feel?" she asked.

Amanda touched her breast again. As she caressed the little bruise, she felt the faint beat of her heart. "I told him that I loved him."

"You're his sister, sweetie; he already knows that you love him. You need to tell him why and how you love him. You need to tell him what you told me, that you'd be miserable without him and he'd be miserable without you." Mom played with the wedding ring on her finger. She twisted it, trying to work it off. "I want to show you something, if my fat finger will cooperate." She got the ring off and handed it to Amanda. "Read the inscription."

Amanda held the ring up to the light. The inscription was on the inside. The tiny engraved letters read "soulmate."