Charlie and Mindy Bk. 02 Ch. 02

She sat there on me a moment, eyes closed, jaw slack, before folding slowly over onto my chest. She placed her elbows just outside of mine, her palms under my shoulders, and drew her upper body tightly to me.

"Oh, Charlie," she murmured. "I've missed you so.

"Now! Do it!" She rose up onto her hands and raised her hips until only the head of my cock remained within her.

She didn't have to tell me twice. As she brought her hips back down, I loosed the animal we'd discovered inside me, and my hips pumped upward with all the strength I could put into them. We slammed together and retreated for another thrust.

She had brought me to a state where I could not last. It took only a scant half-dozen strokes to bring me to the point of no return. The inferno that had raged through my body coalesced into a ball of lightning deep in my groin, and a stroke or two later my first eruption blasted into her depths, scalding the length of my cock as it flowed.

Again, and again! Again! Again! My semen flooded into her as cataclysm engulfed me. The elemental forces she'd built up in my groin discharged themselves through my cock, and my universe contracted to encompass only the overwhelming sensations that dissipation brought.

I lay there a while, my little sister lying on top of me, my cock buried in her, before a measure of my awareness returned. When it did, I realized that she had been stroking my jaw and my neck and cooing mindlessly at me for a little while.

"Oh, God!" I muttered. "Mindy, that was unbelievable."

She raised her head and looked at me.

"I think I made you come," she said, somehow maintaining a straight face.

It was the understatement of the year.

"God, yes," I agreed. "But you didn't come."

"Not yet, I didn't. But you're going to take care of that."

Her smile told me that she loved me deeply, that she knew exactly why she hadn't come, that she bore no grudges on that account, and—most of all—that she knew she was about to get her turn.

"You'd better untie me," I suggested, hopefully. In spite of the orgasm I had just experienced, I still wanted to run my hands over her wonderful bare little body.

"I don't think so," she said. She smiled sweetly and came to her knees over me. My cock, now only half hard, plopped wetly out of her. "Application of a semen extraction apparatus is only the beginning of your DSB treatment. And you've proved that you can't restrain yourself properly while you're being treated.

"Now we need to move on to the oral phase of your therapy."

She'd raised herself off of me, and now she knelt at my side.

"The oral phase?" I asked, weakly. I wasn't at all sure what she was up to now. But I was sure I'd soon be learning. Whether I wanted to or not.

I made a mental note to myself not to leave webbing lying around in plain view in the future.

"Yes. We have to administer certain medication orally, while we continue to build up the pressure of any semen still backed up inside you."

I had my doubts about there being any semen—any at all—left inside me after the explosion I'd just been through, but I didn't want to give her any excuses for further torment, so I kept my peace.

As she'd spoken, she'd continued to move, so that she was now kneeling at a point even with my shoulder. She turned to face my feet and threw her leg over me. Her pussy, dripping with her juices and my cum commingled, was now directly above my mouth, only a few inches away from my face.

I enjoyed the view—briefly—as she lowered herself onto my mouth. My tongue went willingly, happily to work. As it did, I felt her mouth engulfing my limp cock—which was itself coated with a blend of semen and vagina juice.

How much had changed in the last four weeks! When we two had left for our trip, with only each other for company, into the Wind River Range, we'd been merely brother and sister—extraordinarily close, maybe, but still just brother and sister. I'd believed that it was an act of purest degradation for a woman to take a man's cum into her mouth. Now my sister and I were lovers, completely committed to each other as man and woman. And here I was joyfully lapping my own cum, mixed with her juices, from my little sister's pussy—while she enthusiastically slurped a helping of the same mixture from my cock.

As I licked and sucked, her hips began to rock. Their action was barely perceptible at first, but it intensified as I continued to lick. Gradually, I shifted the action of my tongue from her lips to her clit, tickling it, teasing it, circling it as I knew she liked. Soon, she was grinding against my mouth, paying less and less attention to what she was doing to my cock with her own mouth. Nevertheless, the warmth and moisture of her mouth, the touch of her naked body against my own, the mingled perfume of our emissions, the taste and feel of her secret place, and what remained of her mouth's action had their effect. My cock was stiffening.

She moaned, groaned, removed her mouth from my re-hardened cock, and thrust her pussy firmly against my mouth, grinding it against me with a circular motion.

"Harder, harder…" my little sister pleaded.

I stiffened my tongue, prodded her clit more directly, prodded again, again, again, in synchrony with her own motions. She groaned rhythmically as she thrust herself against my mouth. Her tempo increased, and I kept pace. Soon, she was on the verge, shuddering in anticipation.

And her paroxysm was upon her. She groaned and threw herself back onto my mouth. Against her weight, it was all I could do to keep my lips between her and my teeth—preventing them from digging in to her most sensitive flesh. She bounced up and down on me, using my chin more than my mouth to stimulate her little button—all the while moaning, whimpering, uttering nonsense.

Gradually, she subsided. She collapsed back onto me; the pressure on the lower part of my face diminished. Gently, very gently, I essayed a lick, barely touching her clit.

"Mmmm," she hummed at me. "No more right now."

Her clit was always very sensitive right after she came. I gave one more little touch, eliciting a little jump, and then I quit—fearing that, still having me at her mercy, she would avenge any misbehavior with fresh torment of some kind. For the moment, I simply enjoyed the touch of her feminine treasure against my face. My own treasure, I noticed, had hardened fully—and rested against her right cheek.

After a few minutes, she realized what it was that rubbed against the side of her face. Her right hand came up to it, grasped it gently and stroked it.

"How about that!" she said lazily.

She continued to stroke it for a bit. Eventually, she raised her head and brought it back down, once again enveloping my cock with her mouth. I discovered that my own hips were now rocking. Slowly, Little Sister stroked Big Brother's cock with her mouth, completing one full up-and-down cycle for every five or six of my own. Soon, I was moaning again and thrusting into her mouth with more definite purpose.

Feeling that purpose, she raised her head, removing her mouth from my rod, and came up to her hands and knees above me. She moved herself off of me and to my right, turned around to bring her face up to mine—still on all fours. She looked into my eyes again, and I into hers. She smiled, nuzzled me, and kissed me gently on the lips.

"Please, Mindy! Please untie me!"

"Not just yet. I can see by the return of that growth of yours that your DSB isn't fully controlled yet." She smiled; it was a gentler version of the wicked smile I'd seen so much of in the last hour or so.

Surely, I thought to myself, she isn't going to put me through that again! I strained against the webbing again; it was still there, no more forgiving than it had ever been.

But she wasn't going to torture me more. Either she was being merciful, or she herself was too aroused, or both. Instead of toying with me, she got right down to business. Face-to-face with me now, she straddled me again. Once again, Little Sister guided Big Brother's shaft into her sheath as she lowered herself on to me.

In spite of the orgasm I'd had scant minutes earlier, in spite of the doubt I'd had just a few minutes earlier, I found that I did have more semen backed up inside me—and that I really thought she should extract it. We took longer this time than we had the first time, and she had three more spectacular orgasms as we worked on it. Her last set off my second explosion. When we finished, we collapsed into a heap.

We'd forgotten to breathe while coming, so we gasped for air, recovering. I nuzzled her; she nuzzled me back and her hands roamed gently over the sides of my chest and my upper arms. At length, she raised her head and looked me in the eyes again.

"There, I think we've arrested your DSB. Roll over."

As she said the latter, she brought herself up on all fours and rolled off to one side. I rolled the other way, and shortly I felt her gentle hands untying the knot that had held my wrists. When I was, at long last, free again, I rolled back toward her as she laid herself back down beside me. She rolled over against me, put her head on my shoulder, brought her leg up, and folded it across my thighs. I took her into my arms.

"Mmmmm" she hummed, throwing her arm around my chest and wiggling herself even more tightly against me. Her perfect little tits rested against my side and my chest. Her pussy, dripping, once again, with our juices, rested against my hip.

We lay there for a minute or two. Gently I stroked her.

She raised her head and looked directly into my eyes. Deep blue fire flashed from her eyes.

"Charles Edward Magness," she said, severely.

I was in trouble; she'd used the name they whip me by.

"My heart about stopped when I saw you there on the couch looking so weak and so helpless. Don't you ever, ever make me think you're sick or injured again unless you really are." But, in spite of the severe tone of her voice, there was a hint of a smile on her face as she spoke.

"If you ever make me think you need to go to the hospital again," she continued, "you will need to go to the hospital—one way or another. Do you get me?"

"Yes, ma'am!" I replied. I couldn't suppress a chuckle. Neither could she.

"Deadly Semen Backup!" she snorted.

"Ummm," I said, "no worse, I think, than 'semen extraction apparatus'. 'SSDD'?"

"Severe Semen Deficiency Disease." She kissed me. "It's a female affliction that's at least as bad for women as DSB is for men. And, like DSB, it can be arrested but not cured."

"Have we treated it successfully?"

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed as she laid her head back on my shoulder, snuggled in. "For now."

"Big Brother and Little Sister," I murmured to her.

She squeezed in tightly against me and murmured back, "Best friends and lovers."

I squeezed her as together we murmured, "Now and always!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The smell of baking potatoes eventually got us moving again. It was about a quarter after six when we started putting our clothes back on.

"Are you fixing me supper?" She flashed me an award-winning smile, partially compensating me for the fact that her pussy was about to disappear into her pants. "What are we having?"

"Steak ow plover and peanut noyer," I answered. It was our private joke, born in a Wyoming steakhouse where that was what they'd called steak au poivre and pinot noir.

It got me a squeeze and a kiss.

"This isn't Wyoming," she pointed out. "But I'll take it."

Fortunately, I'd anticipated a distraction, and I'd set the oven temperature a little low—so the potatoes weren't more than a little overdone when I finished making the salad and sautéing the steaks.

When all was ready, I seated her at the kitchen table and served it up, pouring each of us a glass of wine. And I'd been right; a week of dormitory food had made her grateful for a home-cooked meal.

As we ate, she told me about her week. It had been, I knew, a very busy one. She'd already made a number of friends. She was getting along well with Carol, her roommate, and it even seemed like they might become fast friends. They'd gone to most of the social events together and had enjoyed them.

"Guys seem to like Carol quite a bit," she said, as she stabbed the last piece of her steak with her fork. "They kind of flock around her."

"Mmm-hmm," I said. I wasn't the least surprised. "If I were an unattached freshman guy, I'd probably be part of that flock. Carol is a babe.

"And, of course, none of those guys are flocking around you at all."

She lowered her eyes, tried to suppress a little smile as she put the steak to her mouth.

"Well, maybe a little," she admitted, around the meat she was chewing. "But I'm not in Carol's league as a babe."

"I have to agree," I said. "She's a minor league babe. You're major league."

She grinned at me. "I couldn't help noticing," she pointed out, "that she was major league enough to give you… ummm…, ideas last weekend."

"Uhh," I said, giving myself time to think. "But they were only minor league ideas. And besides, I'm already under contract. It's a major league contract, and I hope I don't get traded."

She looked at me. She was still smiling, but there was an air of seriousness that hadn't been there a moment earlier. By now, we were picking up the dishes from the table to put them near the sink.

"Charlie," she said, "I love you and I'm not planning any trades. But I'd never stop you if you found someone else and needed to move on."

"Little Sister, to me, that guys come flocking around you just means that I've got really good taste. I'm lucky. I'm the one you picked and want to hang onto. I'm not looking for anyone else, and I don't plan to—ever."

I reached for her. She saw me coming and reached back, taking me into her arms as I took her into mine. Her smile was light-hearted again.

"I'm the lucky one," she said. "I've found the world's greatest guy," she continued as she took me into her arms. "It's just a little bit annoying that he's my brother. But that isn't his fault, and it certainly isn't mine. I think I'll keep him. He's a good cook, and he's really good in bed!" And she reached up for a kiss. Our lips connected, stayed connected for a while, while we held each other.

"Oh, by the way," she added, as our lips finally parted. "I told Carol that your roommate wasn't due until late tomorrow, and that I would probably sleep over here on your couch tonight. I brought my toothbrush, comb, and so forth, in my backpack. I hope that's okay." There was a sly grin on her face as she said the latter.

"I hope you find the couch comfortable," I said—with a sly grin of my own.

WHAM!

She'd punched me again. But I was still holding her, and she had a bad angle—so it didn't even hurt as much a usual.

"A true gentleman," she said, "would offer to sleep on the couch himself so that I could sleep in his bed."

"We'll compromise," I said, grinning. "You can sleep in my bed. And so will I. You can tell Carol that your gentleman of a brother slept on the couch. Or, better yet, that we threw a sheet on the spare bed in the front room and you slept on it."

"An excellent solution to a vexing problem. I forgot that there's a spare bed here," she said, with a grin of her own, as she reached up for another kiss.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

About a third of the bottle of wine I'd opened still remained from dinner, along with a whole bottle still unopened. So after we'd cleaned up the kitchen, we took the open bottle and the other out onto the front porch, along with a corkscrew and a couple of glasses. We arranged a couple of the lawn chairs next to each other and split the remaining wine in the open bottle between the two glasses. She took the chair on the right, farther from the door. I took the other chair and reached for her hand. She put her hand in mine and looked at me. She smiled and leaned toward me, shared a quick kiss.

There was something on my mind; some things she'd said as we finished our dinner bothered me.

"Mindy," I said, "You said it's annoying that I'm your brother. And you said that right after you told me I'm free to go. Are you having second thoughts? About us, I mean? Do you need to get out?"

"Oh, Charlie! Don't ever think that." Her hand tightened on mine; a pained expression spread over her face.

"First, I meant that I love you too much to try to keep you in something you don't want.

"And second, it is annoying that you're my brother, because I can't tell other people, or show them, just how I love you and how much."

"On the other hand," I pointed out, "you don't have to worry about introducing me to your parents and wondering if they'll like me."

"Charlie!" She was growling now. "Will you be serious for just one minute?"

"I'm sorry, Mindy." I said it apologetically. "You're right. This is real."

"I've never thought of 'getting out,' as you put it. I don't want that at all."

She paused. After a few moments, she turned toward me, brought her other hand around, took my hand into hers, and held it. She looked directly at me; I could feel myself sinking into her deep blue eyes.

"Charlie, it's more than annoying. We can never marry." She said it with grief and finality as though announcing the death of someone close. And then, earnestly, "But if we could, I would marry you tonight—this very evening. You're the man I want—the man I need. I want, I need, to be beside you for the rest of our lives."

"I need you, too, Mindy, and I want to share our lives, too. I promise you that we'll find a way to do that." I brought my other hand around and added it to the three hands we'd already joined. "I would marry you tonight, too, if I could. You're the woman I want and need, and I won't leave you unless you send me away."

She smiled. "That will never happen. You'll have to send me away first."

I smiled back. "Never. I'm yours whether you want me or not!"

Her smile deepened. "Ditto!"

I took my hands from hers so that I could pick up the wineglasses. I handed hers to her and raised mine. "To us! And to you, my beloved!"

Still smiling, she raised hers and clinked it against mine. "To us! And to my beloved!" she agreed.

We drained our glasses and grinned at each other.

"Big Brother and Little Sister." She whispered the reminder to me.

"Best friends and lovers." I whispered back the response.

"Now and always," we whispered to each other.

I looked directly into her deep blue eyes; they enveloped me once again.

"Always!" she repeated, still whispering.

Her eyes danced as it dawned on me that what we had said to each other in the last few minutes wasn't new. We'd been saying it to each other ever since we were little. It had deeper meaning in the context of our new relationship, but always had always meant always.

"Always!" I agreed.

I set down my glass and I reached for the corkscrew and the other bottle.

(To be continued)

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Comments are welcome. I don't comment on my own stories, so I have no way to respond to anonymous comments; I will try to respond to others.

—CarlusMagnus