Charlie and Mindy Bk. 04 Ch. 06

"You weren't kidding! You really do have a boner every morning, don't you?" she said as she stroked. "I don't think I've ever woken up beside you and not found you hard."

I was more fully awake, now. "Maybe there's a connection," I said. "I can't think of a better reason for having a boner than having my little sister—my soft, warm, naked little sister—pressed up against my back."

She giggled her approval of the compliment. "Turn over and face me," she offered, "and I'll give you a better reason!"

I did, and she did—the front of her soft warm naked body pressed against my front was definitely a better reason. We shared the day's first kiss. It was a long, gentle, deep one, and the "better reason" got better still.

"Mmmmmmm!" I moaned. "You win. That's better." My arms enfolded her and pulled her tightly against me. My hard-on slipped between her thighs, where her hot wet furrow cradled it. Our hips found a gentle rhythm against each other, and I went on, "That's much better."

"I have to go," she said. "But then I'm coming back."

"Me, too," I said, with all of my usual originality and wit.

We both got out of bed. Mindy headed for the bathroom that opened off of our bedroom, while I headed for the other. I was awake enough to delay leaving until she'd passed out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. It had been a rear view, but seeing her naked body was worth the wait. As she entered the bathroom, she turned and smiled at me. I smiled back; she knew exactly what I'd been up to. She liked it when I looked at her—almost, I think, as much as I liked it. And, we both knew, she would get a front view of my naked body when I came back to bed from the other bathroom. We both liked that, too.

I had a double incentive to get back quickly. The heat was on, but it was late May, and the house was still chilly. That would've been enough. But I knew that Mindy—soft, warm, and naked—would be waiting for me to join her. And her morning embraces had assured me that she had in mind what I had in mind—the same thing we always had in mind when we woke up in bed together.

My morning hard-on made it difficult, as always, to empty my bladder; it had to soften so that I could. So she was back in bed by the time I re-entered the bedroom. I felt her eyes on my body—my cock in particular—as I walked back to the bed. She grinned at me, and I returned her grin as I climbed back in bed to take her into my arms.

"I hope," she said, as her little body pressed up against me, "that you can get it back up again."

I held her close to me as I lay there on my side with one arm under her and one over; my cock, not yet stiff, but growing rapidly, again slid between her thighs to rest against her pussy. Her hips moved in response—sliding her cleft up and down along my hardening cock.

"I think that's your job," I said. "And you're doing it so well!"

"Mmmmm," she moaned, her hips still in motion. "It is rising to the occasion, isn't it?"

She put her arms around me and held me even closer to her wonderful little body. She sought my lips with hers for the second kiss of the day. As we kissed, her perfect little boobs pressed against my chest, and her cleft continued to stroke along my shaft—which was by then almost fully hard. I stroked her side, from her armpit down across the swale of her little waist and over the swell of her hip to her thigh—and back again. Her skin was smooth, silky, and gloriously feminine. She moaned into my mouth. I did it again, and she moaned again.

We broke the kiss; we continued to hold each other, but loosely. Our upper bodies separated a bit; her nipples just grazed my chest, but my prong remained against her slit—though our hips came to rest for the moment. I looked into her eyes, and I lost myself in the deep blue that looked back at me.

"You really are the best thing that's ever happened to me," I said. "You make me so happy. What did I ever do to deserve such love?"

Laughter danced in those deep blue pools. "You're Charlie Magness—my Charlie," she said, smiling, "and you've always been the best thing that ever happened to me.

"I'm the one," she continued, "who doesn't deserve you."

I kissed her nose and said, "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, whether you deserve me or not."

She reached under my chin and kissed my neck. "That makes me so happy," she whispered when her lips broke that contact. I shuddered from the kiss and the feel of her breath against the skin of my neck.

She raised her head, and I looked again into deep, deep blue. I cupped her boob. I squeezed it, and then I took her nipple between thumb and forefinger. I pinched that hardness gently and rolled it back and forth.

Now it was her turn to shudder. Her hips began to move again, stroking the upper side of my cock with her heat and her moisture. She sighed, and said, "Oh, Charlie! It feels so good when you touch my boob like that."

I raised my body and nudged her over onto her back. And I brought my mouth to her chest and found a nipple with my lips. It was hard—maybe even harder than the one I'd touched a moment ago. I nibbled it, first with my lips, and then gently, gently, with my teeth.

She sighed deeply as she arched her back and thrust her chest forward, seeking to get her nipple even more deeply into my mouth. I brought my lips over my teeth so that I wouldn't hurt tender flesh, and then I sucked nipple and areola into my mouth. I pressed her against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, and her body went almost limp as a result. She sighed again, even more deeply than before.

I continued for a while. Her breathing was now ragged, and she held my head against her chest.

I felt her hips rock beside me, and, gently, I pulled away from her nipple against the restraining pressure of her hand. I looked up at her face, and saw that her eyes were closed and, though her mouth was slack, it bore the shadow of a smile.

I kissed my way from her nipple down the mound of her tit toward her bellybutton, still looking up at her face. As I did so, I saw her eyelids flutter open. The deep blue flames of her desire looked down at me again, and she spoke: "You make me feel so good and so horny for you." She caressed my head as I continued to kiss her chest and her belly.

Downward, ever downward, but slowly, slowly, my lips found their way, and the touch of her hands followed my head. I moved my mouth from her nipple to her bellybutton, where my tongue swirled joyfully. That always tickled her, and she squirmed and laughed at the touch this time, too.

I had planned to taste and tease most of her body, but by now my cock was rock hard. It had its own ideas about what should happen—and about how long it should have to wait. So my lips traveled—more quickly and certainly now, kissing and nibbling as they went—due south from her belly button toward the cleft at the juncture of her thighs, following the musky scent whose intense femininity now commanded me.

Soon, very soon, my lips nibbled and pulled at the wiry curls of her little triangular bush, and my tongue reached through the sparse thicket to tickle the underlying skin. I felt her rolling a bit, from side to side, as I touched her there; and I felt her hands gently encouraging me to head farther south. She parted her thighs, and brought one upward, so that my head would have room for what she knew I wanted to do—and which she wanted, too.

Still nibbling and tickling her bush, I raised my body and moved it down, over her leg until I knelt beside her knee. Once I'd placed myself, she brought her other leg up, too—opening the heart of her womanhood to my searching mouth.

I kissed and licked my way on, backing on my knees as necessary. She rested her legs on my back, and I found the little dimple at the head of her cleft with my tongue. I continued on downward and extended my touch until my tongue touched the little button of her clit. She inhaled sharply at my first contact, and stiffened as I tickled that little bud.

"Oh, shit! Yes!" she shouted. "Eat me! Eat my pussy!"

Once again, her hips rocked—establishing for me the rhythm she most needed from my touch. I matched her rhythm, circling her clit, touching it gently, tickling it softly, from time to time.

Her motions, her breathing, and the moans she uttered all signaled that she was near the edge. Gently, I brought her closer still. And, as I touched her with lips and tongue, her shapes, her folds, and her hypnotizing aroma pumped my own desire higher and higher.

And then she pushed my head away, and I looked up to see her looking at me. Urgently she said, "I'm gonna come. I want you in me when I do. Put it in me! Now!"

My cock definitely thought that was a good idea. I wanted that, too.

Seeing that I wanted what she wanted, she reached down for my arms and pulled me up from where I knelt between her thighs. When I started moving, she spoke again.

"Can I be on top?" she asked.

In answer, I rolled aside, over her leg; I came to rest beside her on my back. She came to her knees and straddled me; her hand went to my rigid cock, moved it against herself so that it would part her inner and outer lips as she descended upon me. She looked again into my eyes; the blue fire of her love consumed me. And she lowered herself onto my boner—inserting my hardness into her tight wet channel.

Usually when she enveloped me, we lay there together for a minute or two—adjusting to the sensations, each of us knowing what the other's body would soon give to our own. But it was different this time. We were both too aroused for such passive enjoyment. She started to move up and down on me as soon as I was well in her; my hips replied with their own motion.

I pounded in and out of her—in and out, in and out, in and out. She closed her eyes, and a look of intense concentration came over her. Her body's motion grew stronger, then stronger yet and more determined—and my hips replied in kind.

Her breath came in gasps—shorter and shorter. And then, eyes still closed, lost in the beginning of her body's cataclysm, she made three short, sharp intakes of breath. Immediately upon the end of that third gasp, she convulsed and dropped forward onto me as her orgasm overpowered her and took her away from me, into herself. Her sheath rippled around my cock, clutching it, grasping at me as I continued to drive myself in and out of her. In her body's tumult, her lovely face contorted as she fell onto my chest. She announced her arrival with a shattering, sobbing, shriek.

And then I was lost in my own orgasm, and I knew no more. Fire erupted in my head and my groin; conflagration pulsed through my cock, and the world stood still. My cum raced through the length of my cock, again and again and again, as I thrust myself deep into my little sister's body. Cataclysm engulfed me, and there was room in my mind for nothing else.

At our orgasms' ends, we lay there—in each other's arms, gasping for breath, barely aware of each other—for an undetermined time. And when I came to myself, I heard her take a deep breath, expel it, and take another.

And she said, "That was so good, Charlie. That was one of our best."

My cock, beginning to shrink, was still embedded in her. My arms, which surrounded her limply, regained their strength and pressed her naked little body against me. "It was, Mindy. You really made me come," I answered her. And her little arms wormed their way under my shoulders and pulled us even closer together. She sighed against me in happiness, and my own sigh returned my own joy. My boner continued to shrink within her.

In a minute or so, she raised herself, pulling herself off of my cock—which fell into a sad little heap of soft wet flesh. She rolled to my side and rested on her own side, laying her head on my shoulder and leaning the front of her body against me. Her firm little boobs pushed against my side and my chest, and I felt the tickle of her little bush on my hip—along with the trickle of our fluids that seeped out of her. My arm still encircled her and I held her against me. She wiggled her hips, and her pussy slid against me as its lips—both inner and outer—painted my side with our slick juices. She settled, then, against me with a happy little moan.

And both of us fell asleep.

It was daylight when she moved against me in her sleep, and I awoke. She was still asleep. The automatic thermostat had turned the furnace on while we were generating our own heat, and the room was no longer chilly.

Her breathing and her heartbeat against me called forth even more of my love, and, gently, I pulled her closer. I held her soft warm naked body against myself for a minute or two—and I reveled in the feel of her and in the knowledge of the absolute trust we'd shown by falling asleep against each other.

And then I happened to glance over at the clock, and I saw that it was almost nine.

We were supposed to be at Quent's office at ten. We were still half asleep; we had yet to get showered and dressed; and we still had to get some breakfast. Not to mention the ten-minute drive.

Somehow, I managed to restrain myself. Instead of jumping up in a panic, I reached over my body with my right arm and gently stroked my little sister until she woke up. As she came back to consciousness, she growled a waking-up groan, and rolled over to stretch herself against me—thus pressing all of my favorite things tightly against me. I rolled toward her and encircled her with my arms. She pressed even more strongly against me and put her own arms around me.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on what you're thinking about—my equipment was down for maintenance again. Her naked little body was certainly stimulating, but mine refused to respond.

I squeezed her and kissed her, and, after that, her eyes at last fluttered open. "It's so nice to feel you against me when I wake up. Even if it is the second time I woke up today," she mumbled.

"I like it, too," I replied. "But we have to be at Quent's office in just a little more than an hour."

She looked lazily over at the clock. "That doesn't give us much time, does it?" she said, with a naughty grin.

"God, you're randy!" I said, "I know what you're thinking, but I'm afraid it's hopeless. I don't think I could get it up with an Erector set right now."

She kissed me. "Men!" she said with one of her more evil smiles. And she broke out of my arms and rolled out of bed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Somehow, we made it to Quent's office on time. He was happy to see us, and we to see him. For some reason, we'd expected the meeting to be important, but there was little of importance—aside from his joy at seeing us—that he had for us. He would, though, he warned us, have a big stack of paperwork for us to sign in a few more days.

He did put on the firm's trustee hat and ask us about our grades. We told him we'd both gotten all A's, but he didn't even ask to see our grade reports. He simply congratulated us both and said that that was just what he'd thought Brian's kids would do. (We saw no reason to disabuse him of that notion by telling him about my sorry history. But Mindy winked at me when Quent wasn't looking.)

He wasn't the least displeased that we wanted to relieve him of the responsibility of looking out for our house while we were away—though it seemed clear from his attitude that he hadn't expected that of us and that he would willingly have continued to handle the chore. But he gave us some names of reputable property management firms that would do it; and he told us that, because taking care of the house was a legitimate cost of going to school—and so an educational expense—our trusts would cover it for us. So there was one load (nearly) off of our minds—we just had to work out the details.

He was, evidently, in the mood for socializing. We spent about an hour and a half in his office with him; then he took us out for lunch. And we enjoyed the time with him.

After lunch, around one o'clock, he took us to our car. As we got in and drove away, I told Mindy that I wanted to find some new socks and underwear, because what I had was getting a little bit threadbare. She gave me a lecherous look.

"The barer, the better," she said.

"Do you ever stop?" I asked her, giving her back the lecherous look.

"Once in a while, I do," she allowed with a grin. "Mostly when I'm asleep."

She reached over and stroked my cock through my jeans. But the maintenance interruption was still in progress, and her touch had no noticeable effect there.

She grimaced. "Okay," she said. "But I don't need to go to a men's wear store with you. Even though there might be Real Men there." Her grin turned naughty again. And then she continued, "Can you take me home first? I've got some things to do there."

"Sure," I said. And so I did.

It was about a quarter after one when I dropped her off. Once I saw that she was safe inside, I backed out and drove off to a nearby store, where I knew I would find the brands I liked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was nearly three when I returned to the house. I'd found not only the underwear and socks that I wanted, but a couple of shirts I liked as well. I parked the car in the driveway and entered the house through the back door. As I entered the house, I yelled, "Mindy, I'm home."

I heard her muffled response. It came from upstairs, and there was something strange about her voice. I set my purchases on the kitchen table, and, quickly, I headed for the stairs.

"Are you all right?" I yelled.

"Yes," came the response, stronger and clearer now. "I'm okay."

But she wasn't okay. I could tell from the sound of her voice that she was crying.

Worried, I ran up the stairs, and, as I ran, I shouted "You're not okay! You're crying! Where are you?"

"I'm in our bedroom," she answered as I reached the topmost step. "I'm sad, but it isn't an emergency."

There was no question now but that she was crying. Even so, I thrilled at the sound of "our bedroom."

Her suitcase, half unpacked, lay open on our bed. Beside it was one of Mom's purses—its contents dumped out on the bed. I recognized a passport among the other things.

Mindy sat, cross-legged, on the floor, near her side of the end of our bed. A roll of toilet paper sat on the floor beside my little sister, and the top of Mom's steamer trunk was wide open. That trunk had been locked the last time I'd thought about it. When we hadn't been able to find the key, we'd gotten the trunk out of the closet and put it at the end of the bed so that we wouldn't forget it. But we'd seen it there every day we were in the house. So we'd gotten used to its presence, and we'd forgotten it anyway.

Inside that trunk, and strewn about on the floor where Mindy had left them, were two or three dozen notebooks. They were bound notebooks, with gilt-trimmed brown leather covers. They were large—about eight by ten inches, and an inch thick—the kind that laboratory experimenters keep their records in. One of them sat, open, on Mindy's lap.

The pages I could see were covered with handwriting—and I could tell, even from the door where I stood, that it was Mom's handwriting. Mindy had put a couple of strips of toilet paper in it for bookmarks. Strips of toilet paper stuck out of some of the other books near her.

"How—" I began.

But Mindy looked up at me, and that look stopped me in my tracks and at the very beginning of my question. Tears rolled down her face, but she smiled at me through her pain.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I should have waited for you so that we could do this together. But I couldn't wait.