Charlie and Mindy Bk. 03 Ch. 05

"Mindy," she said, "I hope that Charlie's told you what I've told him. I love you both. I have trouble believing that you've made good choices, but I know that I can't make choices for you."

Mindy, now speechless herself, nodded her head in reply.

Mom went on. "I'm going to do my best to accept your relationship with each other and to support you in something that will be…difficult, at best."

Mindy found her voice. "Oh, Mom, I was so afraid that you wouldn't be able to forgive us. I didn't know what I'd do…"

"Mindy…" Mom began. It was almost a sigh. After a pause, she continued. "…I'm your mother. There's only one bond between people that's stronger than the bond between a mother and her children. That's the bond that you and Charlie have between you now." She smiled. It was a bleak smile, but it was a smile. "I know better than to try to set my bond with either of you against the bond you've formed between yourselves. If I did that, I would lose you both—and that would be the end of me. I couldn't survive losing either of you—let alone both."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Mindy said. "We didn't mean to cause you so much pain."

Mom's smile was now a little less bleak. "I know," she said. "I understand. Sometimes we don't have any choice about whom we love, or how, or how much. It just happens to us.

"But you'll learn as you go through life that we can't separate pain from love. How we handle the pain we cause each other is the ultimate test of our love.

"Someday, you'll hurt Charlie. Someday, he'll hurt you.

"I sincerely hope that neither of those days comes for a long, long time. But they will come. If your love is strong and true, you'll both overcome the pain you give each other—and your love will be stronger and truer for it."

Mindy and I looked at each other. We already knew enough about loving each other that we believed what Mom had just said—and we could see that in each other's eyes.

"Thank you, Mom," Mindy said, "for being so good to us."

"Thank you for trying to understand, Mom," I echoed.

"I think I do understand, Charlie," she answered. "I think I do."

"What about Dad?" Mindy asked. "Does he know?"

"No," Mom said. "I didn't really figure you two out until after he left. But I have to tell him. This isn't the kind of thing that can go in a letter, either, so it'll have to wait until we're together again. Maybe when we're in South America, maybe when we get back home. I'll have to think about when."

Fretfully, Mindy asked, "Does he have to know?"

Mom looked at her. "Mindy, think very carefully. Would you hide something this important from Charlie?"

Mindy hung her head. I hung mine, too—I'd been about to ask the same question when Mindy'd beaten me to it.

"No," she said. "I couldn't."

"How will he take it, do you think?" I asked.

"He won't be pleased—just as I wasn't pleased. But he loves you both, too. And he will try to understand and try to accept. He will support you."

A look I recognized came into Mom's eyes then. It was a look I'd seen in Mindy's eyes many times. And I knew then that Mom hadn't been altogether right when she'd told me that Mindy and I got our determination from our father—who was not the man we called "Dad."

"I guarantee it," she said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement—now or ever, whether from me, or from Mindy, or from Dad.

"But it's late, now—almost nine-thirty—and we have to get up early tomorrow. And we've had a very emotional evening. We should get some sleep.

"Charlie, Mindy and I said some hard things to each other—things we didn't mean. We need to make peace. Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed?" For the first time that evening, Mom seemed at ease.

"Okay," I said. Mindy sat up to let me go. Before she could get away from me, I pulled her close, squeezed her, looked into her eyes, and kissed her briefly on the lips. We exchanged a smile. Then I stepped over to Mom, bent down, kissed her on the cheek, and hugged her. "We love you, too, Mom. More than we know how to say."

"I know," she said as I left the room and headed for the stairs. I heard the smile in her voice.

I went upstairs and began getting ready for bed. As I stripped down to boxers and T-shirt, I heard the gentle buzz of Mom's and Mindy's voices floating up the stairs. I couldn't hear their words, but their tones carried the sound of reconciliation.

I did my bathroom chores, and returned to my room. As I closed my door, I heard Mindy's little feet on the stairs. I set my alarm for five-thirty, turned out my light and, as I got into bed, I heard her in the bathroom. I rolled onto my side and composed myself for sleep.

I was just starting to drift off to sleep when I heard my door open behind me, and then close. Mom must have looked in on me, I thought, only half-awake, as I tried to recapture the onset of sleep. I was briefly aware of a soft, rustling sound, but in my semi-conscious state, I paid it no mind. And then a small female body—as naked as the day it was born—slid into my bed behind me, rolled up against me, and took me into its loving arms.

"Mom just told me," she said, and I could hear both grin and tears in her voice, "that when a woman loves a man who loves her, they should share a bed whenever they can. And that you and I are in the same house so we can."

"I think she's absolutely right!" I said, smiling. Mom's message was clear; she would support us.

"And she said they should be naked," came Mindy's unbelieving whisper. "But you aren't naked."

I peeled off my T-shirt and tossed it onto the floor on my side of the bed. "That's easily fixed," I said—stripping my boxers off. They followed the T-shirt. I rolled over toward my little sister and took her into my arms. I kissed her—softly, gently, lovingly. She held me tightly and her little tits caressed my chest. I felt my cock begin to rise and slip between her thighs.

In the background, I heard Mom walk down the hall, heard the door to the master bedroom close.

"Charlie?" Mindy whispered hesitantly.

"What, love?" I whispered back.

"Can we make love? Quietly? Now? I need you. I don't think I've ever needed you the way I do right now."

My right hand was already stroking her side, sliding over the swell of her hip.

"I need you, too, Mindy," I whispered. "I want to make love to you, and I need you to make love to me. But do you think we should?"

"Yes," she whispered back, her naked little body snuggling up against me. "Do you think we can not make love now that we're naked together in bed?"

She had me there.

"But quietly. Mom knows what we're going to do in here tonight. And she sent me to you because she knows how much we need each other. But we shouldn't be offensive about it."

Now that Mindy lay beside me, naked in my arms and with our mother's permission—though maybe not her blessing—I found that I needed my little sister with an intensity I'd never experienced before. That intensity, sparked by the emotional storm we'd just been through, went beyond lust, beyond love.

We lay there in the darkness, our naked bodies warm against each other. Our hands roamed gently over each other—touching, stroking, feeling, caressing, taking pleasure and bringing it, enjoying and being enjoyed. Our lips met, again and again, communicating our love—responding to need while driving it higher at the same time. When the power of our bodies' desires for each other had risen to an unbearable peak, she rolled onto her back, parted her thighs, and drew me over upon herself.

Joyfully, my flesh entered hers; jubilantly, her flesh received mine. Hungrily, our bodies strove with each other. Irresistible forces gathered in our groins, and we exploded together in fulfillment. All that was part of compelling Before was gone, and we lost ourselves together in incredible Now as my flesh filled hers with the viscid white heat of my love.

We lay there, then, in wondrous After, limbs entangled, bodies joined. We had, for the moment, slaked our physical needs, each for the other. But we knew now that we had deeper needs, unquenchable needs. I knew that I would always need my beloved little sister; she knew that she would always need me. And each of us knew beyond all doubt that, always, as if it were a law of Nature, the other would respond to that need.

After a time, we broke the union of our bodies. I rolled onto my back, and she rolled with me—bringing herself onto her side up against me. Her shoulder slotted itself into its usual place in my armpit, her head rested on my shoulder, and my arm enfolded her. She brought her leg up, folding it across my thighs, and her arm reached across my chest to help me hold us against each other.

The evening's turmoil had drained us, and we thought of sleep.

But, before sleep could come, she whispered softly into my ear, "Big Brother and Little Sister!"

Softly, softly, I whispered back, "Best friends and lovers!"

And then, together to each other, "Now and always!"

She went on. "I love you so much!"

And she reached up with her lips and nibbled on my neck as I completed our ritual: "I love you even more!"

I kissed her forehead, and she returned her head to my shoulder. I held her close, loving the feel of her nakedness against mine. Softly, almost inaudibly, she moaned a little sigh of pleasure, and we subsided.

I still remember the warmth of her sweet little body, the scents of her hair and her skin, and the feel of her heartbeat and her breathing. Sleep came, then, and I remember no more.

(To be Continued)

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