Joanna: Step-sister, Sexual Muse

"We've done it now," she said seriously, the hint of a smile laced underneath her typical austere gaze. How was it that women always avoided the post-coital mental spiral? I'd like to say I mentally jotted that down to research later, but I was altogether consumed with the sight in front of me: clad in a big shirt and long socks, my step-sister Joanna, straddling my still-throbbing cock as it continued to leak warm cum inside her folds. I nodded absentmindedly in response, dazed, and laid back on my bed. Where to go from here?

To catch you up, you should know my mother remarried last year, which meant my senior year of high school had been somewhat complicated by the sudden appearance of Joanna, whose playful sarcasm and lanky appearance blended quite well with my own. I was a bit of a wallflower, so her company ended up being a blessing as we slowly got to know one another. We'd go to the movies, poke fun at some of the more popular people at school, and generally just walk about town when we weren't sidelined with senior projects. We were both eighteen, which meant our newlywed parents left us to our own devices pretty often. My mom was smitten with Joanna's dad, and frequent weekend trips away meant Joanna and I could sneak a beer or two and watch a violent film or two on the living room couch.

The part from before? Where she on top of me and leaking my cum? Well, nothing like that happened for the first nine months or so I knew her. We were friendly, but there was no obvious signs from her that I could tell that she was attracted to me. It wasn't as if I hadn't noticed her pert frame or fair skin—I will cop to having a dream or two about stroking her hair, for whatever reason, but there was no obvious sexual tension until the first cold weekend of the year. Our house's heat wasn't kicking in, and our parents were out of town again, so Joanna and I constructed a humongous pile of blankets and comforters on the family couch and tucked in to a classic horror marathon. If it sounds cliche, know that nothing even happened on that couch. We had a few nice films, snacked a bit, laughed at the copious amount of blood sprayed across the screen, and called it a night shortly after midnight. I was just about asleep that night when I heard Joanna knock.

"Hey, you up?" She sounded timid at first, but eventually got the nerve to ask if she could sleep in my bed as her room was often the coldest in the house. She was wearing pajama pants and a large shirt—her typical layabout getup, sleeping or otherwise—so I didn't see the harm. And, I kid you not, we slept peacefully and innocently, though I'll admit I scooted closer to her than my body temperature probably deemed necessary. It was only in the morning, when we had tumbled into a successful couple's spoon in our sleep, where things got complicated. My rigid erection against the back of her thighs was the kicker, however.

"Todd. Todd. Todd!" Her voice grew louder with every repetition until my eyes darted open. There was Joanna, gentle brown curls spread across the other pillow, pressed against me, wearing a crooked smile that could have meant any number of emotions with her. "Oh, christ" I think I uttered, embarrassed, once I realized the situation. She laughed it off, and I think my face discovered several shades of red that were hitherto undiscovered. The curious thing about it was that she kissed my cheek before she hopped off the bed, which had never happened before. We had never even flirted before, and now this? I tried to downplay it in my mind, but I can't deny the amount of work my hand got in response to that evening.

It was three weeks later, on a rare weekend when our parents were cozy in their own room, when Joanna and I first came clean to one another. There was no seductive post-shower scene, not another cold sleepover, but rather a spontaneous kiss while one of our favorite records played in my room. The door was shut, as our family was pretty trusting, and we were laid across my bed arguing the merits of a particular single when my eighteen year-old step-sister jumped on top of me. I was wearing gym shorts, so my immediate reaction was not "Why are you on top of me?" but instead, "God, please don't let my sister feel how hard I get for her." As it turns out, I needn't fear. She gave me one glance and asked, "May I?" I nodded, uncertain to exactly what I was agreeing to, but more certain than ever that I wanted it. Joanna pressed her entire body against me, pink lips against mine, hips gently writhing as she explored my mouth, and I would later joke that I discovered my first religious experience.

The thing to know about Joanna is that when she makes up her mind, she carries herself across the finish line without hesitation. A passionate kiss, turned into a tongue gently probing mine, turned into our shirts thrown across the room, turned into my cock being gripped by a girl—sorry if you're reading this, Joanna, I mean woman—for the first time. Her grip was strong, certain, and though she'd later admit she'd only been with one person previously, she pulled my cock in a way that made my mind go white with pleasure. She even licked her hand in-between forceful, messy kisses, sickening the shaft. If this whole thing sounds like an unreasonable escalation, then consider my shock when she tore off her pants and underwear—"I just want to be close to you," she warned me—and in-between kissing I felt a small, soft bush of pubic hair brush against mine. I ran my hands down her back, feeling her slender frame until I cupped her surprisingly firm and pronounced ass. She laughed nicely at my explorations, encouraging me to squeeze as she kissed my neck. My cum wasn't long for this world, as you can probably guess. She did too, sensing my excitement, and clamped my cock a bit harder, as if to shut off the valve to my pleasure until she decided she was ready for it. I'd learn later she was particularly controlling and devious with this, but this was my first rapturous taste. Instead she laid my cock flat against my belly, and smiled widely as she sat up and pressed her now soaking wet cunt on top of it, and proceeded to slide back and forth on the shaft.

"You're close," she announced. I didn't bother to deny it. My face probably couldn't, but she was still smiling and continued to grind that wetness against my engorged member. I watched closely.

"Do you like it?" She asked. I tried to give a nod, but I was working every neuron in my brain to keep from spilling all over my step-sister's cunt.

"Tell me you like it." She slid herself closer to the head of my cock. She put her hands in mine and gently held me down. I took this to mean I was not to enter my sister and cum inside her, but I'd be lying if my brain wasn't screaming otherwise.

"I do." I said, with a somewhat strangled voice. She laughed, kindly, sliding just a bit further. I could feel her entrance near the head of my cock.

"You do what?"

"Liked it," I grunted. I was in grunting stage, there was no denying it. I could feel her heat, both from her breath and her lips below. Her mouth moved to my ear, and before she had the chance to initiate it, my cock exploded. An true, bona fide explosion of hot, sticky cum shot in ropes across her cunt. She laughed in my ear, interrupted by the stream, but she gripped my cock and pulled the ropes out with force. What the fuck was going on? Where was I? It was that post-coital mental impact I mentioned earlier, felt for the first time with Joanna. I couldn't focus. I finally looked down and saw her bright pink lips covered in sticky white, some caught in her small, neat bush.

She took a hairband from her wrist and stood up straight while straddling me, pulling her hair into a ponytail, seemingly unfazed by the cream smeared against her lips.

"And now, you clean." She said simply, falling back onto the bed in front of me, legs held apart, her messy lips waiting for my mouth.

Who was I to deny family?