Izzy and Me

There was a long pause. "You thought I had snuck Greg into the house? I thought you..."

My brow creased and I glanced at her. "You thought what?"

"I don't know." She sounded confused. "Look, Paul, I'm sorry I hit you. I misunderstood."

I was gnawing on my lip as I drove, still frowning. What had she misunderstood? "So...you forgive me, then?"

"Nothing to forgive, little brother. It was just a misunderstanding." She stretched out her left hand and rubbed my arm. It seemed that she had trouble extending it.

"When was the last time you had a massage, Iz?"

She chuckled. "I've been too busy."

"You can't neglect that. It's important as any other part of your physical therapy." She needed her muscles stretched at least once a week, more if possible. She hadn't had physical therapy in a few weeks. I felt peevish as I thought about how she let some boy side-track her from her health issues. Without the massages her muscles would atrophy and once that happens it's not reversible. Surgery is the only way to release the atrophy, but she would never be able to regain the elasticity once lost. It would curve her body even more and if the curve in her spine became even more pronounced it could cripple her.

"Yeah, you're right Paul. I can make an appointment for Jim this weekend." Jim has been her physical therapist since she was a toddler. He is an old, white haired man now with strong, muscular forearms in an otherwise slender and stooped figure. I used to watch him put her through her paces, the grimace on her face as he loosened her muscles back to a subtle state, and then the relief as she was able to straighten her limbs.

"I'll play Jim." I said. I've done it before but more just playing.

"Ok, then I can get a full treatment in by the weekend."

When we got home Izzy took a long hot bath. It helps to loosen her up. I pulled out the massage table and set it up in the family room just as Jim does.

Mom came downstairs and smiled. "Good idea, Paul. Izzy has been stressed lately." She went back up to simmer water. She gets into the whole vibe about atmosphere and will kill the lights and burn incense or simmer herbs to optimize Izzy's therapy. Jim never complained, though sometimes I'd start wheezing.

When Izzy came downstairs she was wearing a tank top and athletic shorts and Mom had already set up the simmering pots. Low oldies music was flowing over the system and Izzy gave me a quizzical look.

"Mom." I said in explanation.

She chuckled. "Well kill the music, or put on some trans."

I found an ambient station and Izzy lay face down on the table. Her left leg was bent and resting on her perfect right one. Damn, that was not a good sign. I picked up the regular baby oil and poured a liberal amount into my palms. There are all kinds of fancy oils but in truth, baby oil is just fine.

I gripped her left leg and gently began to pull it. I felt her try to extend it but it didn't completely straighten. My goal was to have it straightened before the end of the session. I rubbed my oil slickened hand up her calf where the muscle there was always tight...there and her thighs.

Isabelle is not dark as our Italian heritage would tend to suggest. She's rather pale yet with a healthy glow. Her left side is withered and seems delicate, but it's not. It can take a lot of punishment and does. Right now I'm kneading and stretching, pulling and pressing deep into her muscle tissue.

Even though she goes through this torture on a regular basis I can hear her biting back her pained cries. I don't like it, but I do it because it has to be done. After a long while her leg extends and she moves it freely. I move upward now; to her glute.

The gluteus maximus is a huge muscle that gets tight and draws up her muscles on her side as well as down her legs. It affects her posture and can trigger much of her sciatic pain. I use my fingertips to dig into the muscle there. I can see her face now and she is grimacing.

"You shouldn't have waited so long. The muscles are tough as raw hide."

"Shhh." She murmured with closed eyes, seeming in deep concentration. I continued to rub her butt muscle, punishing it as much as I had her calves and thighs. I moved my attention to the other, healthy butt cheek to test the muscle, to compare and she jumped a little.

"Sorry; comparing."

"Ok." She murmured. Was she falling asleep? Now that her muscles were loosened I made my touch more gentle and just concentrated on rubbing oil into her body. My forearms were cramping and so it helped me to rest them a bit by being more gentle. I'd already been working on her for close to sixty minutes and I still hadn't touched her arm and side.

I moved back down and began rubbing her toes. She wasn't ticklish normally but she giggled and flexed them. I laughed too and moved up to her ankles, kneading gently. My fingers began to glide up to the hollow behind her knee and she shivered, skin breaking out in goose pimples. She sighed again, eyes still closed. I put more oil onto my hands and pressed my palms against the back of her thigh. Her muscles began to tremble again beneath my touch. I've seen it happen before when her muscles have been worked a lot. She'll definitely be sore. It was nice to rub her softly. I liked the feel of her skin.

Then suddenly, the image of her writhing passionately in her bed flashed to me. My breath caught in my throat and sweat beaded on my forehead. I've massaged her before; lots of times, and yes I enjoy touching her...but not in a sexual way. This has never happened to me!

I could feel the blood rushing to my dick, and I could feel it thickening in my pants! Mortified, I glanced at my sister. Her eyes were still closed and she appeared to be sleeping, her breathing even and quiet.

I never felt so much like a pervert in all of my life. I should stop the massage, but she was sleeping and the feel of her skin was so wonderful. I could enjoy it for a moment. Feeling my breath coming out in shallow, guilty puffs I relished the feel of her silky flesh as I kept picturing her fingers buried inside of herself.

Her pussy would be tight and never touched by any hands but her own. I pictured myself rubbing her pearl, and the glistening liquid that would coat those lovely lower lips. Yes, I am a virgin, but I have pictured these things in my mind many times, but never, never while I was touching her.

I closed my eyes and thought of other things, trying to push aside my growing desire. I changed my massage tactics a bit by starting out gently and increasing the pressure on her forearm and biceps. Her dark eye lashes fluttered slightly and then she fell asleep again.

Soft ambient beat, simmering pot of herbs, a full body massage...of course she had fallen asleep. I worked her arm for a while and then moved to her back. It's stupid to rub only one side of a person's back so I pushed her shirt up slightly and began rubbing her lower torso. She sighed in pleasure. It sounded like a purr. My hard-on spiked and my fingers trembled.

Leaning over my sister's body I again imagined her completely nude and then I imagined myself over her, pushing into her body. I paused and put more oil on my palms and resumed rubbing her back, digging deeper into her muscles but not hard enough to wake her. I let my fingers glide beneath her top. She was wearing a sports bra and my fingers brushed it lightly before moving back down.

"Take this off." I said. "I'm going to get oil all over it." Lazily, she propped herself up and struggled with the shirt until it was up over her head and then she dropped it on the floor.

"Thanks for not pulverizing me like Jim would have." She muttered, closing her eyes as she settled back down.

"Mm hm." I replied. I was focused on the slight material of the sports bra. Beneath it are the slight mounds of her breasts, peaked by dusky areolas and pinkish nipples. My eye lids fluttered and I had to press against the table, pushing back against the erection that was straining forward.

My hands moved up to her shoulders and she moaned loudly. "Rub my neck, Paul. God it's tight..." she reached up to move her long ponytail out of the way.

"'kay." My fingers kneaded her neck and shoulders, they brushed the silky strands of hair that have fallen from the ponytail, I pressed my cock against the table. My shortened nails grazed her skin and she shudders and moans.

"Wow...that's good." She's humming softly in satisfaction and my mind retreats into a white cloud of lust. All I can think of is hearing those moan because my cock is buried inside of her pussy. I wanted to hear her screeching and moaning the way she had that night I'd walked in on her. I could see myself making love to her and this time I didn't care that I was a pervert. Maybe I'm not the only18 year old guy that has had incest fantasies...but do others fantasize about fucking their crippled sister?

The question didn't still my hands from moving over the back of her bra. I toyed a bit with the binding material before slowly slipping my fingers beneath it to rub against the marks left by the bra. With shaky hands I moved down once more and rubbed along the rim of her shorts. I moved them down a bit, rubbing and kneading. I wanted to kiss her dimples that marked the top of each ass cheek. I could see the top of her thong. I knew that she sometimes wore a thong because I'd seen them in her laundry basket.

My hands began to move up both thighs now. She still hummed lightly in pleasure; perhaps purring, I'm not sure which. Somehow my fingers inched towards the bottom of her ass cheeks before quickly retreating, only to creep up there again, a bit further this time. Now my cock was on fire. My mouth was parted. I wanted to push my tongue into that space between her thighs, where my thumbs hovered. I could graze that area innocently-- my hands were already on her ass...

I blinked suddenly. My hands kept massaging, moving, rubbing but my eyes were glued to that space where her thighs met. Her shorts; the crotch was wet.

My heart was beating so hard and fast. She was wet. Isabelle's pussy was leaking because of my touch, my fingers, my attention!

I could not have stopped the moan that escaped my lips if my mouth had been sealed by duct tape. And my thumbs, that had been so close to her wet crease, gently stroked the crease of her pussy. I was rewarded with silky wetness that clung to my skin.

Izzy stiffened. If she would make me stop it would not be before I dipped my thumb into that wet well. Gently, I slipped first one, then the other into her and her breath came out in a quick rush. Instead of leaping up and smacking me, I saw her pelvis roll slightly at my touch.

I could barely breathe. I was panting. She was letting me finger her! Slipping my forefinger past her panties (they were sodden!) I stroked the swollen lips of her inner labia. My finger moved forward and I grazed her clit. Izzy sucked in a soft breath and still she didn't rise. I was stroking her pussy!

Stars were shooting past my vision and I realized that I was holding my breath, about to black out! Catching my breath, I continued stroking her gently, and with my other hand I undid my pants and slipped my hands inside. My palm was still slick with oil and my stiff shaft sliding through my grip brought a grunt to my lips. I quickened my stroke while rubbing my sister's pussy, flicking her clit, watching her ass roll and listening to her soft moans.

It was too much sensory overload and with a low cry I began to cum! My cock was purple, I had never been so hard in my life! Semen shot out and landed on her naked thigh and that's when I felt her pussy begin to tremble. Isabelle let out a cry of her own and when I looked at her I saw that her eyes were watching me working my cock. I kept rubbing and rubbing, mewling like an animal, squeezing every bit of cum out!

Izzy's eyes seemed to glaze and I saw her bite the back of her arm to hold back her yell. Her eyes closed and her hips began to pump faster against my hand, grinding onto the cushion of the massage table.

I felt weak when the last spurt of semen dribbled over my fist. I swayed on my feet and with one last stroke of her swollen pussy I withdrew my finger. In one last act of perversion, I slipped that finger into my mouth and sucked it clean. I would remember that lovely taste forever.

Izzy rolled over, away from me, climbing down from the table and landing lightly onto her feet. Her muscles were not jerking and her head was not flopping around in anxiety.

Her back was to me but she turned her head in my direction. "Go to the bathroom and get tissue!" Her voice was commanding, urgent, but I could not tell if she was mad, glad, or freaked...I hurried to the small bathroom and grabbed toilet paper. I felt like a kid when I stood in front of her holding it gripped in my hand. She was pulling on her shirt.

"Clean off my leg." I jumped into action and cleaned my semen off of her, holding my pants up with my other hand. For once I couldn't read her emotion. She didn't smack me, so that was good I guess.

When I was done cleaning her I flushed the toilet paper. She watched me with green hard eyes. "After you put away the table and clean up down here, go up to the kitchen, get a bottled water and ask Mom when dinner will be ready."

"Wha-? Why?" I didn't want to see my Mom. I wanted to go to my room and think about all of this, maybe talk to Iz about it.

"Just do it." I watched her limp up the stairs and my feelings were hurt. I was confused and unsure of what I had expected to happen—but certainly not this. But I did exactly as Izzy had commanded. My mother was in the kitchen cooking and when I saw her I felt a fresh wave of fear and guilt. I grabbed a bottled water.

"Izzy's walking a lot better." Mom commented absently. "I so appreciate that you take care of your big sister." I concentrated on unscrewing the lid from the water.

"Not a problem. When will dinner be ready?"

"About half an hour."

I headed out of the room. "Alright, I'm gonna wash up."

"Okay, Babe." I hurried up the stairs and went straight to the bathroom. Why did she make me do that?! My heart was beating out of my chest! I started the shower and stripped out of my clothes. I stood with my head under the spray of water in total disbelief at what had just happened. I'd fingered my sister...but I didn't feel guilty about it. She had climaxed; which meant that she had liked it, too.

At dinner I kept my eyes on Izzy but she was pretending that nothing had even happened. She even asked me something about school. I stuttered and stumbled all over myself. How could she be so calm about this?! I glanced around the dinner table and everyone was talking and acting as if the world hadn't just changed.

After dinner I followed Isabelle up stairs. "What do you want?" She snapped. "I have to do my homework." I followed her into her room, shutting the door behind me.

"We need to talk about this." She stared at me. I didn't know what to say, then I figured that I would just tell her how I feel. I opened my mouth.

"Did you plan that?" She asked.

"No!" She just stared me. "I didn't know that was going to happen, Iz. I didn't plan it." She nodded, I guess convinced that I was telling her the truth.

"Well it's never happening again, kiddo."

"Don't call me kiddo." She shrugged and flopped down on her bed and picked up a book.

"Look, I have homework." Then she gave me a dismissive look. For a second I realized that by doing this thing I had totally messed up our relationship. God...what if she never was my Isabelle again?

I felt my eyes flood with tears. Shit, as if I needed to start crying at this moment! "Fuck..." I wiped my eyes. "I love you. Deal with that." Then I walked out of her room and went to my own.

Pt. 4

For the next few weeks Isabelle continued with her strange mood and I moped. She made arrangements for Greg to bring her home from school and lots of times they would come back to the house to study, or he'd stay for dinner. I avoided them as much as possible by hanging out after school. I even got a part time job even though I had a full academic scholarship.

I thought that in time, maybe my desire for her would lessen. I thought that the images of her masturbating would lessen, and that I would stop replaying the erotic massage. Instead I thought of these things more and more. Nightly, I'd jerk off in my bed, hoping that Isabelle could hear me. I know it's stupid, but I couldn't help it. I felt that if she could allow herself to be turned on by the idea of me then...then...I don't know.

One day I came home and went up to my room to start my homework. But before I could reach the door I heard Isabelle crying behind her own closed door. Despite the fact that she no longer opened up to me, my heart dropped at the sound of her sobs. I opened her door without knocking and she looked at me startled. She was lying across her bed clutching her pillow.

"What's wrong?!"

"Nothing. Leave me alone."

I slammed the door. "Damnit, Isabelle. Tell me what the fuck is wrong!" She gave me a surprised look. "Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?"

"No." She buried her head into her pillow. "Please go away." She sounded so forlorn that I couldn't stand it. I sat down on the bed beside her and placed my hand on her back. It was the first time that I'd touched her in weeks. She didn't pull away.

"What happened?" I pierced my lips together. "Is it Greg?" After a moment she nodded. I held my breath. "What happened, Iz?"

After a moment she sat up. She had been crying a long time, her eyes were red and her face was swollen. There was little control over her muscles as she twitched and jerked and tried to calm her breathing by gulping in air. I didn't know what had happened but I already wanted to choke the life out of that weasel, Greg! The red haze was making a reappearance, creeping up on me like a fog.

"Greg...Greg is the first friend that I ever had, well, other than you." She swallowed. "I thought that because of his hair lip that he...understood what it's like to be shunned. He's so shy." I stared at her without emotion. "And then when he started opening up to me, and hanging out with me, I thought it meant that he..." She grew quiet.

"He, what?" I prompted.

"That he accepted me." I looked away from her. "But instead, he only wanted to take me places where no one could see me. Here, or in class where everyone knew that I was smart. He didn't want to walk with me on campus. At first I tried to convince myself that he was just really shy. But...Well, anyways, I asked him to stop at the store on the way home tonight. He didn't want to but he did, then he wouldn't go inside with me, so I finally just asked him straight out. 'Are you ashamed to be seen with me?'"

I still didn't look at her, but I could feel the rage increasing within me. She had told me long ago that only someone she cared about could hurt her. And now here she was crying. She had trusted someone and they had broken her heart.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said that we look like two freaks walking together."

"Oh, I'll kill him."

"Paul." She said solemnly. "It's out of context. It is true, though. To him we look like freaks." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Then my rage slipped away and I gripped her and pulled her into my arms.

"Oh, Izzy, please don't cry." She placed her head against my face and relaxed her muscles as much as she could.

"I'm not crying because he hurt me...well not completely. I'm crying because I LET him hurt me. I knew and I just wanted it so bad, you know?" I stroked her long hair.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I want you to be happy."

"I'm sorry." She murmured.

"Why?"

"Because I made you take the blame for...you know; what happened." I didn't move. I couldn't believe that she was talking about what had happened between us. I quietly waited for her to continue.