Charlie and Mindy Bk. 01 Ch. 07

As I worked on her hair, I saw that she'd closed her eyes to keep the soap out. But she was grinning for all she was worth. So was I.

"Turn around," I said, "so that I can get the back better." She did. As I worked on the back of her head, she backed up into me. My hard wet cock slid up her spine, and she trapped it between our bodies. She wiggled a bit.

"Stop that, woman!" I protested. "You aren't helping!"

She giggled, but stopped wiggling. She didn't move away.

I finished, and stepped her back into the stream to rinse the shampoo out. Then I had to get down on my knees so that she could reach my hair. As she poured shampoo into her hands, I couldn't help but notice that, once I was on my knees, her tits weren't very far from my mouth.

She set the shampoo bottle down, rubbed her palms together as I had done, and raised them to my head, one on either side. I grabbed her by the waist and, like a striking snake, I latched onto a nipple, sucked it into my mouth.

"You stop that!" She was laughing. "Now you're not helping!"

I sucked on the trapped nipple for a second or two, just because we enjoyed it so much, and then stopped that. I closed my eyes and let her wash my hair without further interruption.

At length, she stood me up, eyes still closed, and backed me into the shower stream to rinse. As soon as I could open my eyes, I reached for a bar of soap and turned her around, so that her back was toward me. I soaped her arms, her sides, and her back, all the way down to the base of her ass. Once I had her lathered up, I set the soap down and used both hands to clean her up—arms first, then sides, then ass. Of course I paid special attention to her ass, and I made sure to slide a soapy finger into the cleft between her ass-cheeks. And, that soapy finger being in the right neighborhood, I slipped it an inch or so through her sphincter.

She jumped a bit and snorted; I'd surprised her. "Asshole!" she griped at me.

"That's what it is!" I replied.

She was laughing again. I picked the soap up and lathered her neck, all the way around. I stepped up against her. My hard cock again slid up her spine and got trapped between us. I reached down over her shoulders and began lathering her front—tits first, followed by waist, abdomen, fur patch, and cleft. Then I put the soap aside and, my body still pressed up against her back, I began using both hands to clean her front.

I started with her tits. Cupping each soapy little boob in one of my hands, I washed it slowly, gently, carefully. She moaned.

"We want to be sure that these are clean," I whispered to her.

"Mmmmm. Yes. Clean." She melted backwards into me.

Eventually, I reached down over her shoulders to her waist, trapping her between my arms and my body.

Dreamily, she complained, "I call a foul! Illegal use of a masculine growth disorder to do something to me I can't do to you."

"You bet!" I replied, my soapy hand making sure that the cleft of her pussy, her clit in particular, was sparkling clean. "And before long I'm going to use another of my masculine attributes to do something to you that you can't do to me."

"Mmmmm, I sure hope so."

She looked back over her shoulder, reached her soapy arms back over her head to grasp my head, and pulled me down into a long, deep, soulful kiss. I continued, gently but thoroughly, to make sure that her clit was clean.

After a while, she brought her hands down to pull my hand away from her pussy, complaining, "I'll fall down right here if you don't stop." I pulled her around me into the shower stream, to rinse the soap off. Then, turning to face me, evil grin on her face, she announced, "Now I'm going to wash you."

"Do you think you can reach?" I asked, slyly.

That got me a punch in the gut. I saw it coming and tightened the muscles.

"Ow! Another illegal use of a masculine attribute!"

"Maybe I'll stop when you stop using your feminine wiles." I smiled at her.

"Yeah. Right!" She smiled back. "Like that's going to happen. Turn around, Big Brother."

I did, and she lathered me from behind, all the way down to the base of my ass—as I had done with her. She put the soap aside and cleaned me, arms, sides, back, ass. For some reason, I wasn't surprised when a soapy finger slid between the cheeks of my ass and slipped into me.

"Oh! My God! I've been violated!" I yelped melodramatically—head thrown back, back of a hand against my forehead.

"Asshole!"

"Yep! That's where."

"Turn around, you big oaf!"

I did. She was trying not to laugh, without much success. She picked up the soap and began lathering my neck. Slowly, she worked her way all the way down to my balls and my engorged cock. When she was satisfied that she'd gotten enough lather on me, she started again at my neck, cleaning me.

By the time she pushed me around her into the stream to rinse me, we were both moaning. As the lather sluiced off, she reached around from behind and wrapped her hand around the shaft of my cock. She pumped it slowly and gently.

It wasn't long before I had to remove her hand—or collapse, myself. I turned around in the shower stream to rinse my back. She continued to run her hands gently over me as I did.

Once the soap was gone, I scooped her into my arms, stepped out of the shower, and carried her toward the beds.

"I call a foul," she said—dreamily again. "Illegal use of masculine strength to sweep a girl off her feet."

"And into bed," I amended her complaint.

I set her down long enough to pull the bedcovers off, and then I eased her onto the bed. Lying down beside her, I took her into my arms as she took me into hers. We held each other tightly and kissed passionately.

When we broke the kiss, I caressed her cheek.

She smiled at me, said, "We're getting the bed sopping wet."

"There's another one, right over there," I said. "We can truthfully tell Mom that we used both beds."

"Asshole!" she said. And kissed me again.

My hand found and cupped a boob, tweaked the nipple a bit. She moaned into our kiss.

I took my lips from hers and rolled her onto her back. I took a nipple between my lips, and nibbled it a bit as I tweaked it with my tongue. I sucked on her nipple and rasped my tongue against it. She thrust her chest toward me, asking for more. I supplied it.

My left hand found her cleft. Her thighs parted, and I stroked the length of her furrow. We were wet from the shower, but her pussy was wet in a hotter, different way. Her hips bucked in response.

Taking my lips from her tit and pulling back my hand, I moved over and raised myself onto my knees between her thighs. As I did, she brought her knees up, opening again the heart of her femininity to me.

"Yes, Charlie! Yes! I want your big, hot, hard cock in me!"

She brought her hands down and spread herself open before me. I walked myself toward her on my knees, until my thighs were under hers and my lower legs folded up tightly against my thighs. I could look directly downward to where my boner rested between her hands and against the cleft of her mound. I moved my hips back a bit, and then forward—as I guided my cock directly into her welcoming heat.

I glided deep into my little sister's body. We remained there, motionless, for a few moments.

"God, you feel big in me," she breathed. "It feels so good!"

"Now I can look at your pussy," I said. "It really turns me on."

I brought a hand down to her cleft. Gently, I began to stroke the area around her clit, the way I knew she liked. She closed her eyes and seemed to be in another world.

As I stroked, rubbed, and teased, her breath came more quickly. I felt her contracting rhythmically around me, squeezing me, making me pulsate. She cupped her tits with her own hands, massaged them, tweaked her own nipples.

As her excitement grew, so did mine. I continued to stroke her clit. I found myself moving my cock in and out of her. Slowly, I pulled it almost all the way out; and, just as slowly, I pushed it back in. Again. Again. Her moisture glistened on my shaft when I withdrew. When I sank into her again, I saw how the folds of her inner lips enveloped me. Again. Again. And on, and on…

"Oh, God, Charlie! Your cock goes so deep in me when you do it this way! Keep doing it, but do it harder!"

I stepped up the pace a little. I stroked her clit a little harder. Again I pulled my cock nearly all the way out of her; pushed it all the way in. Again. Again. More, more, more.

She was about to come. I was getting pretty close myself, but I needed to move more quickly. Taking my hands from her body, I leaned forward and put my weight on them—one to either side of her. At the bottom of an in-stroke, I slid my knees downward and extended my legs. I dropped to my elbows. More and more quickly, I thrust myself in and out of her.

She writhed and thrashed under me.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm coming! Shit! Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop!" She clutched at me, clasped me to herself, grunted, moaned.

As she subsided, my own orgasm began. I thrust myself into her one final time, and the first spurt of fiery cum traveled the length of my cock into her depths. Another. And another. I arched my back as I ground my groin tightly against hers. Nature wanted Mindy's big brother to plant his sperm deep inside his little sister, and that seemed like a good plan to me. Another spurt. Again.

And, another time, came the rapturous spasm that held me rigid, made me forget all else, as I pumped the last of my cum into her.

We lay awhile in each other's arms, my cock still deep in her. We nibbled and kissed each other, wherever mouths and lips would reach.

Eventually, a strange rushing noise intruded on my awareness. It sounded a lot like…well…like a running shower.

"Umm," I said. "I think we might've left the shower running."

"Of course we did," she replied. "We aren't done with it. We've only washed ourselves down to the hips."

"Good thing one of us has a practical mind."

When we finally forced ourselves to separate and stand up, we looked back at the bed, and saw that it was muddy where our dirty wet legs had been. Laughing, we returned to the shower to finish what we'd interrupted. Naturally, I had to re-wash her pussy, and she had to re-wash my cock. I could see there the potential for what computer programmers call an infinite loop, but my equipment was down for maintenance and we avoided that problem.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By the time we'd finished cleaning ourselves, dressing, and sorting gear, we agreed that it was suppertime. And, after a week of eating portable food, we were ready for something real. We'd noticed a steakhouse, the Stockman, just down the street. We were in the mood for a steak and a salad, so we thought we'd give it a try.

We arrived well before any evening rush, and they seated us immediately. The menu wasn't extensive, but we weren't looking for breadth. It wasn't a high-class restaurant, but we weren't expecting one in Pinedale. We did have to laugh at the "steak au plover" menu item, which was described as "pepper-encrusted steak." (It should have been steak au poivre. "Au poivre" is French for "with pepper", and steak au poivre is steak encrusted with crushed black pepper. It was one of Dad's favorite ways to have steak.)

Probably, we thought, they pronounced "au" as "ow" instead of "oh." But we both decided to order it.

When the waitress came, we placed our orders. Mindy told her that she wanted the pepper-encrusted steak.

The waitress said "Oh, yeah. The steak ow plover."

We'd been right. I winked at Mindy and saw her bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

For the last few years, Mom and Dad had sometimes let us have some wine with supper, so I decided I'd see if I could get some with the steak. (I didn't know much about wine then, but there was an inexpensive pinot noir available by the glass. And I did know that I liked pinot noir with steak.)

Colorado had just raised the drinking age from 18 to 21 at the beginning of the previous month, depriving me of the right—which I'd possessed for a year and a half—of drinking legally at home. I didn't know what the situation was in Wyoming. Figuring that if I asked what the drinking age was, I was asking to get carded, I just pointed at what I wanted on the menu, saying, "And I'll have of a glass of this."

That didn't work. "You got ID?" the waitress asked.

Trying not to look like I'd been caught red-handed, I produced my driver's license, which showed clearly that I was 19.

She examined it; said "Okay, honey."

Then Mindy said, "I'd like a glass of the same."

The waitress didn't bother asking Mindy for ID; she just said "Okay, hon. You guys can go to the salad bar whenever you want."

We later learned that I'd been legal, but Mindy hadn't. The drinking age in Wyoming was 19 then—and was raised to 21 the following year. I'd heard before that, in a lot of places, if the guy is legal, the girl's age isn't very important. It worked here.

We got our salads, and we were just digging in when the waitress arrived with two glasses of wine.

"Here's your peanut noyer," she announced and returned to the kitchen.

So, after our salads, we had "steak ow plover" with a glass of "peanut noyer" for dinner.

The salad bar was good; the baked potato was large, well-cooked, and well-supplied with butter and sour cream; the steak wasn't overcooked; and the wine went well with the meal. Of course, we might have been biased by a week of backcountry menus—however superb my cooking might have been.

After we'd eaten, the waitress brought the check: "Just pay at the register, honey."

Mindy went to the ladies' room, and while she was gone, I went to the front of the restaurant to pay. After the person ahead of me finished his transaction, I stepped up to the counter, produced the check, and proffered my money.

The old man who ran the cash register looked at me. "Son," he said, "you're one lucky young feller. I seen the way that purty little gal looks at you. She's got class, and she adores you. She's a keeper. You take good care of her. Treat her good, and she'll still be beside you when you're an old man like me."

"I know I'm lucky," I replied with a smile. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I adore her. I plan to take the best care of her that I can. I hope she'll keep me."

"That's the ticket!" He gave me my change, and winked at me. "Thanks for your business."

Mindy rejoined me just in time to hear his last two sentences. When we were outside, she asked what "the ticket" was, and I recounted the conversation.

"And I plan to take the best care of you that I can, and I hope you'll keep me," I finished.

"You do take good care of me. You always have. I hope you'll keep me."

"He was right about one thing for sure: You're a keeper."

She put her arm around my waist and squeezed me as we walked down the street. I put my arm around her and squeezed back. If the old fellow could see us, he probably approved.

Once back, we spent an hour or so unloading packs, rinsing cookware and water bottles, reorganizing gear, and repacking things for the trip home. We spent another hour lying on the other bed—the dry, unmuddied one—side-by-side and each with an arm around the other, watching unmemorable junk on TV, just for something to do.

We'd had a week of early rising. Moreover, we'd spent it doing hard work, both physical and emotional. So we were tired. The meal and the wine contributed, and we would have a long drive the next day. So it was still pretty early when we decided to call it an evening.

Having decided that it was not uncultured for lovers to sleep naked together, we stripped to our skins. Mindy stepped up to me and, grinning evilly, made a show of rubbing her tits and her pussy against me. We laughed at the barely noticeable effort my poor, tired cock put forth. I pointed out that it hadn't even been five hours, yet, since we'd Done It.

"Men!" she replied contemptuously—but with a sly grin and a squeeze that carried promise for what could happen after the service interruption was over.

We adopted the same sides of the bed as we had gotten used to in the doubled sleeping bag. As we'd liked in the bag, she rolled toward me until she lay on her side, body against me, head on my shoulder, arm around my waist, leg folded across my thighs. I wrapped my arm around her. She melted against me. The combination of soft warm bed and soft warm woman was heavenly.

"Mmmmm," we hummed together.

"Big Brother and Little Sister," she whispered to me.

"Best friends…and lovers," I murmured back. The pause was for emphasis, not because I'd forgotten.

And then the chorus: "Now and always!"

A few minutes later, before I'd quite drifted off to sleep, her sleepy voice came to me.

"I'm a keeper; treat me good."

"Always," I mumbled. "You've got class, and I'm one lucky young feller."

Epilogue

Monday

We awoke early, pretty much together. Being in a bed instead of on the ground, we'd slept soundly through the night. I was on my side, spooned against Mindy's back. The maintenance interruption was over, and my morning boner occupied her cleft.

One of my arms was under her pillow. The other hung over her waist—but as I became more fully aware, I moved it so that my hand cupped one of her tits. She was stirring, too. Shortly after I found her boob, she clenched her ass on my cock. I tweaked her nipple in response, and pulled her more tightly against myself.

"Mmmmm," she responded. "You feel even better in a bed than in a sleeping bag."

"You'd better enjoy it while you can. It's going to be a while before we can wake up together in the morning again," I pointed out as I squeezed her. "I don't think we want to tell Mom and Dad about us. We'll have to talk about that on the way home."

"I think you're right," she said. "Let me hit the bathroom. I'll be back."

We both made bathroom trips, but she was soon back in my arms, and my boner returned quickly. She rewarded it with another clench.

"Somebody," she said, "is in the mood for some morning delight."

She wiggled her ass against me. I felt her wet heat against the head of my cock.

"Two somebodies," I pointed out. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken."

"Mmm-hmmm. No mistake. But will you just hold me like this and touch me for a little while? I love to feel you naked against me."

I replied by gently massaging her tit, cupped as it was in my hand. She moaned, grasped my hand, and held it more tightly to her boob. She wiggled her ass from side to side against me again, then back to front, stroking my cock along her slippery moistness.

I stroked her side from her armpit down to the curve of her hip and back. Did it again. She continued to move her hips, alternating between side-to-side and backward-and-forward.

I kissed the back of her neck and stroked her ear. She shivered and moaned. I stroked down her side again, to her hip. This time I reached around, found the upper end of her cleft, and tickled her clit. I gently stroked the area around it. She seemed paralyzed for a few moments.

When I removed my hand to stroke her hip again, her own hand sought between her thighs and found my cock. She moved her hips away from me a bit, until my cock had cleared her entrance. Pressing my boner into her cleft with her hand, she pushed backward with her hips and neatly slipped my crown, along with about a third of my shaft, into herself.

"God, she feels good around him!" I breathed into her ear.

"She sure does," Mindy breathed. "Can we get him deeper?"

We tried. Eventually, we found that she needed to bend forward from her hips, separating her upper body from mine, in order to sink him all the way into her.