Charlie and Mindy Bk. 01 Ch. 03

Knowing that our moment's thoughtlessness had brought us the verge of something we might not be ready for, I pulled my cock away from what her sweetly tempting envelope offered, and I brought my mouth down to Mindy's nipple. Simultaneously, I brought my hand down between us. As I stroked her cleft with the thumb-side edge of my hand and my index finger, I carefully nibbled and tweaked her nipple. She thrust her tit at me and moaned in delight.

The unzipped tops of the sleeping bags had fallen off of us in our thrashing, but the tent provided enough shelter that we didn't care. I rolled my naked little sister over onto her back. That gave me complete access to her little titties, and I took a nipple into my mouth while I cupped her other boob with a hand—nibbling one nipple at the same time I tweaked and caressed the other. She seemed lost in pleasure, aware only of the sensations I was causing.

Wanting to see her naked pussy again, I got to my knees between her legs. I raised her knees and parted them, so that she lay open before me. My cock projected toward her, and she stared at it in hunger and in fear. I had felt the tension in her body as I repositioned her legs, and I could see her apprehension—in her eyes and in the way she held her body. She thought, no doubt, that I meant to take her—there and then. But I had no such intention; I would not break the trust between us. And her apprehension convinced me that I had been right to break the contact we had enjoyed so much.

I wanted her, more than I had ever wanted anything. But she was my little sister, whom I had always protected from any kind of harm. It wasn't the fact that she was my sister that stopped me, but that she was the little sister whom I had always protected. Deciding not to go all the way with her that evening was easy: She wasn't ready, and that was that.

But we knew each other well; she could read the desire in my eyes just as easily as I could read the fear in hers. And I knew that she wouldn't refuse me anything I wanted—whatever the cost to herself. So abiding by the decision I made that moment in the tent was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.

After a brief struggle with myself, I did not do what she both craved and dreaded; rather, I whispered "Chick check," to her, reached down with both hands, and separated her outer lips. The sun was still above the horizon, but the tent filtered out a lot of the light. So, in the dimness, I bent down for a better look at one of my favorite sights.

The hidden inner glories of her femininity had not changed, except perhaps to attract me even more strongly. Holding her open with the fingers of one hand, I used the fingers of the other to stroke her inner lips and her clit, gently, tantalizingly, as I enjoyed the view. And she relaxed—seeing, now, that I would not take from her something she wasn't ready to give—nor give her something she feared.

Instead, I gave her something she wanted very much—but had not known she wanted.

We hadn't bathed since the evening before, and we had worked hard that day—so she had worked up a good sweat. My face was within inches of her naked, open pussy. In the sheltered confines of the tent, its unwashed, musky scent hypnotized me. I had never smelled anything that called to me so strongly, and, without conscious thought, I brought my face even closer.

Before long, I found myself—again without thought—kissing her lower belly and the sweet silky skin of her inner thighs. Then I kissed her hairy little brown triangle, working my tongue through to the skin below.

I could think only of the feel of her skin and the scent of her womanhood.

By now, she was lost in overpowering sensation, too.

I kissed the skin of her outer pussy lips, to each side of her cleft, and her fragrance overcame me completely. I placed my elbows on the sleeping bag, outside her thighs, and brought my hands up over her hips to clasp her thighs. After bringing my tongue to the bottom of her cleft, just below her opening, I slowly, slowly, slowly licked up the center of her furrow, following her inner lips to her clitoris.

I had thought on Monday evening, only two days earlier, that the touch of her fur was electric for both of us. This was more like lightning!

My tongue passed lazily over her opening and up between her inner lips; my cock surged powerfully. As my tongue began its journey, she went limp with a long moaning sigh. And, when I finally touched her clit, she stiffened and, as my tongue began to flutter on and around her little pink button, her hips began to pound and rock. She ground herself against me. She put her hands on my head and caressed me. But I did not mistake that she also held, gently but firmly, my mouth to her center—again as though I might escape if she didn't keep me in place.

As she held me to her center, I licked fervently. Occasionally, I brought my tongue down between her inner lips, sometimes thrusting it into her body. Sometimes I took her clit between my lips and gently sucked it into my mouth to further tweak it with my tongue. Her hips continued to buck, driving her against me, sending the signals for the rhythm that would bring her the greatest pleasure. All the while, she moaned, writhed, sobbed.

Her body tightened as her orgasm began. I felt her coming, and I stiffened my tongue and dug even harder into her clit, bringing her to a shattering climax. As she came, she thrust herself even more violently into my face. Her hands no longer gently prevented me from leaving; they demanded that I remain—even get closer.

"Oooooohhh! Charlie!" she groaned. "Yes! Yes! God! Yes! Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't-stop-don't-stop-don't-stop-don't-stop!" Still holding my face to herself, she collapsed with a shriek.

When she had finished coming, she grasped my hair and pulled my busily insistent tongue away from herself. "No-no-no-no-no!" she cried. "Enough! Enough! She's too sensitive for more!"

And so I lay back down beside her, nibbled briefly on a nipple, took her into my arms, held her, and kissed her again as she came down from what seemed something remarkable.

She lay in my arms for a bit, recovering her composure. "Oh, Charlie! That was wonderful. Better even than last night." She smiled at me, and snuggled against me. After a few moments, she looked back up at me. Her smile slowly morphed, first into the old impish one and then into her evil grin. I thought I knew what she was thinking, and she confirmed it.

"Now, Charlie," she said, "it's time for your dick check. But first…"

She brought her lips to mine for another deep kiss. When it ended, she moved on to my ear, tickling it with her tongue, nibbling it with her lips and then with her teeth. The intense eroticism of that touch surprised me. But she moved on to my neck. She rolled me over and worked hands and mouth on the muscles of my back, all the way down to the cleft of my ass and back up to my neck again. I was powerfully aroused, and I yearned for release.

But she had other ideas. She rolled me back over and worked on my chest for a while. Every now and then, she returned to my mouth for another deep, tongue-thrusting kiss. I returned her kisses, and when she was busy with other parts of me, I stroked parts of her as she knelt beside me and they moved in and out of my reach.

At last, she left my chest behind and treated me to a trail of burning kisses down from my breastbone, on past my belly-button, and into the stiff coarse curls below. My boner rubbed and throbbed against her cheek as she worked her tongue through my tangled hair to the skin of my lower abdomen. I had never experienced anything like this, and soon I was the one thrashing and moaning.

She pulled my knees upward and outward, and knelt between them. She then saw my cock and my balls from the same perspective as the one I'd enjoyed earlier of her pussy. She moved a hand to my balls, and fondled them. Playfully she nipped my sack. Her other hand went to the shaft of my cock; she grasped it lightly with the tips of her fingers and slid the skin slowly, slowly up and down. I could think of nothing but the light touch of her hand and fingers as she played with me, driving my arousal higher than I would have believed possible.

Slowly, as she played with my balls and my cock, she lowered her head toward my groin. She took her hands away and placed them at my sides, almost under my ass, and her head continued its descent. I closed my eyes, thinking that she was about to take my cock into her mouth. But that touch didn't come. Instead, her lips brushed lightly against the inside of my thigh. They moved up and down it, her tongue coming out now and then to lick and tickle, her soft dark hair brushing now and again against my balls and against my cock.

When I thought I could bear it no longer, she switched to the other thigh.

Positioned as she was, I couldn't reach any of her except for her hands; I grasped for them. They responded by taking mine and holding firmly. I opened my eyes and looked down across my belly. My cock stood, hard, stiff, out from my groin. Beyond it her dark hair still brushed softly against it as she moved up and down my inner thigh. And beyond that was her naked body—her back sloping upward away from me, spreading gently into her hips, the rounded cheeks of her ass, and the cleft that separated them. I had not known, not even suspected what the smell, the touch, the sight of her could do to me.

She raised her head and looked back at me. She sensed my intoxication, and her evil grin reappeared, teasing me, taunting me, flaunting her power over me. I was paralyzed with need.

She lowered her head again, and sent her lips and her tongue dancing over the creases where my thighs join my upper body. She began at a hip and passed around toward my cock, down through my crotch past my balls to the base of my ass cheek—right side first, and then left.

When she was satisfied with her work there, she moved again to the hair that surrounded the base of my cock. Alternately, her lips pulled on it and her tongue pierced through it, each time electrifying me again with its touch. As she worked, her soft cheeks again rubbed gently against my cock. Hypnotized, I couldn't stop watching her as she delivered that impossibly welcome torment.

She looked up. Knowing that I was watching her every move, she smiled. And as I watched, her mouth approached, slowly, slowly, slowly, the side of my cock. I saw her tongue flicker out to moisten her lips, and I saw them touch and nibble. Aroused as I was, the gentle, hot, moist feel of those lips on my shaft was incredible, indescribable. My body stiffened; my hands, still in hers, contracted; my cock surged in response. I moaned in delight.

Unbelievably, that was just the beginning. She showered my cock—base, shaft, and head—with kiss after kiss, using hot tongue and moist lips with joyful imagination. Still hypnotically paralyzed, I watched helplessly.

Without warning, she stopped. She released my hands, raised her head again, and looked directly into my eyes. I saw in her smiling eyes a glint that I will never forget. She set her elbows on the sleeping bag underneath us and brought her hands up over my hips, just as I had done—oh, a century or two earlier—with her. She opened her mouth and licked her lips again. Locking her eyes on mine, she slowly brought her head down, and, still smiling, she kissed the tip of my cock, slowly, heatedly, moistly, lovingly, allowing it just between her lips.

I could not decide whether to watch her eyes or her mouth, but I remember seeing her lips part after that kiss and slowly work their hot, moist way over the head of my cock. As she took my crown slowly into her mouth, I felt her tongue flutter against it, tickling it. She paused there, still tickling with her tongue. Her eyes still glinted, were still locked on mine; and her lips were latched just below the rim of my crown.

She raised her head slowly, keeping her lips fully in contact with me, until only half my crown remained in her mouth. There she reversed her motion again and began another slow descent, not stopping until she'd taken in a half-inch more cock than earlier.

Another pause, her tongue still working, and another withdrawal to the same level as before. And then, slowly, maddeningly, another descent, taking in yet another half-inch of my hungry cock.

And so she continued until, somehow, my sweet, inexperienced, innocent, virginal little sister had taken the entire length of her big brother's cock into her mouth and I felt her lips against its root, the back of her throat against its tip.

I was, by then, beyond awareness of anything but the demanding sensations that the heat, the wetness, the clasp of her mouth, and the action of her tongue caused in my cock. She held my full length in her mouth for the longest half-minute of my life. I know it couldn't have been longer, because with my cock in her throat she couldn't breathe—but it felt like she held me there for a year. I dissolved into quivering jelly, hardly able to believe what she was doing to me.

And then…

And then her head moved upward, her lips parted momentarily—but only momentarily—and she gasped for breath. Two quick breaths were all she needed, before her lips closed again around my shaft. Slowly at first, but with increasing speed, she moved up and down, taking me in, out, in, out, alternately in, out, stroking most of my length with her demanding mouth, still working her tongue on me.

My hips bucked, of their own volition, in that ancient rhythm. She matched me, stroke for stroke. I lost all sense of time and place; I was, could be, aware only of what was happening to my cock.

We were inexperienced. She had just invented masterful (or should that be "mistressful"?) technique, but I had yet to master control—which can't be invented and was beyond me then. Given what she was doing, I couldn't last long, and I didn't. After about two dozen strokes—barely long enough for her to match my rhythm—I began to shudder. My cock surged, and my cum spurted, again, again, again, as I continued to pulsate and throb. Never had I experienced so intense an orgasm, and it continued for longer than any I'd ever had before. For several minutes, I lay there throbbing intensely and moaning—aware of nothing outside myself.

As my orgasm subsided and my awareness returned, it came to me with a shock that Mindy still had my—now shrinking—cock in her mouth; she was gently sucking on it and massaging it with her tongue. And I realized that she hadn't removed it when I had come. She had taken my full load of cum into her mouth and, evidently, swallowed it without flinching.

I was young and naïve, and I had little understanding of what can, and often does, pass between a man and a woman when each is capable of being lost in the other's desire. Most of what I "knew" about adult sexual activity came from reading cheap, paperback porn books (we'd called them "cock books") that the men in the freshman dormitory at school had passed around. Those books had led me to believe that only a depraved man would pump his cum into a woman's mouth, and that only a degraded woman would willingly allow him to. I still had much to learn: This was my first lesson.

Just as it dawned upon me that I had come into her mouth, she released my softened cock, and stretched her naked body out beside mine. She pulled the flaps of the sleeping bag over us, rolled onto her side against me, put her head on my shoulder and her hand and arm on my chest, and heaved a sigh of contentment. My own arm automatically went around her. Her shoulder fit snugly into my armpit, and I held her close. I could feel her chest expanding and contracting as she breathed; her heart pounded in mismatched rhythm with mine.

But I was appalled at what I had just done.

"Mindy," I began, "I'm sorry I lost control. I shouldn't have come in your mouth…"

I paused, searching for words. I meant to continue, to abase myself for my stupidity and for the "unclean" act I had perpetrated upon her, and to beg her forgiveness. She stopped me before I could further make a fool of myself.

"Don't be silly, Charlie!" she said. "You ate my pussy. I've always wondered why a guy would want to do something I thought was so gross. And then you did it to me. It felt so good, and you made me come so hard, that I kind of understood. And it made me want to eat your cock and make you come. And when I got part of your nice, big, hot, hard cock in my mouth, it turned me on and made me want to deep-throat you."

I was so surprised to hear her say "deep-throat" that I missed her next few words. When I forced my attention back to her, she was continuing, "…turned you on, it turned me on even more. It turned me on so much that I wanted to taste your cum…

"No. I needed to taste it. I had to taste it. And so I did!" She paused momentarily before continuing. "And making you come that way made me understand why you'd want to eat my pussy."

She raised her head from my shoulder, turned my face toward hers, and kissed me deeply and sincerely. I suspected that I knew exactly what caused the musky, slightly salty, taste her mouth carried, and I began (but only began) to understand another of the mysteries of femininity. If my conscience wasn't put at rest, at least I was absolved, so I pursued that matter no further with her.

I guess, I said to myself, I have some old tapes to erase.

She put her head back down on my shoulder. "Ummm…" I said. "Where did you learn what 'deep-throating' a guy means?"

"Don't guys talk about what they do with girls?"

I was naïve, as I've already said, but I was not naïve enough to believe very many of the claims my friends had made about their successes with the ladies. I might even have told a stretcher or two in that department myself. I replied, "Well, mostly, I think they lie about it."

She giggled. I was struck at how good a woman's giggle can feel when you're both naked and lying with your bodies pressed against each other.

"Yeah. But girls talk about what they've done with guys, too. Now that you mention it, I'll bet girls lie a lot, too. But some of my friends have talked about giving guys 'blowjobs' and 'deep-throating' them. I don't know whether they've ever really done those things or not. But that's how I learned about it.

"I usually just said 'Eww,' because until now, I thought putting a cock in your mouth was pretty gross, too. But then I really wanted your cock in my mouth. And I really, really liked having it there. I loved making it go in and out, and seeing how I was making it feel good for you. It was so big and so hot and so hard.

"And then you came—and every time more cum spurted into my mouth, you expanded and contracted again. Feeling you do that was the best.

"But I almost gagged when I deep-throated you. I need more practice."

Her face was buried where my neck joins my shoulder, but I could hear her evil grin.

"And I loved the feel of your hot, wet pussy against my mouth. But I need practice, too."

She squeezed me and nestled her head a little closer. "I'm so happy to be here with you," she said again.

I didn't really want to break the mood, but we had to deal with the elephant in the tent.

"Mindy," I said, "where are we going with this?"

She was quiet for a moment, while she gathered her thoughts. And then she answered, "I know what you wanted us to do tonight. I wanted that, too. When we rubbed your cock against my pussy, I wanted it in me so much. But it made me afraid. When you knelt over me, between my legs, I wanted to. I wanted you inside me. But I was so afraid that we would. I didn't know what to do."