and let it drop into her hot lap. “I can remember when you were just a thimble,” she said. “You've gotten pretty big yourself.” With this, she slid her foot across my thigh until it rested squarely against the swollen, throbbing underside of my organ.
“That feels great,” I said, rubbing myself against her and shuddering with pleasure. She smiled slyly and slid her other leg across my thigh so that both feet now held me in a firm, fluid grip. As she played with me, so I began to play with her, sliding one foot against her abdomen, up to her breasts and back again and squeezing the other under her buttocks and coming up between her legs. I probed her with my wriggling toes until she began to sigh and gasp.
I had begun to move my pelvis rhythmically, up and down, in and out of the tight grip of her soft, soapy feet. The feverish excitement that had been building up in my loins since I awoke was now beginning to convulse my body with waves of pleasure infinitely exceeding anything I had felt in the wet dreams and dry fantasies of the months and years before. Sandy held on tight as I thrashed with her feet in the suds while against my feet she did a juicy dance of her own.
Suddenly I exploded in wash after wash of a furious ecstasy that shook my whole body and stiffened my arching back all the way. I howled with pleasure and then sank blubbering her name and relaxing back into the hot bath.
“What happened?” she asked. “Don't you want to play any more?”
“Of course I want to play with your-with you. That's all I want to do.” I began massaging her again with my foot.
“Let's rinse off and go into my room,” she o said, and stood up. She turned and began adjusting the shower spray, which came down in hot bullets. I stood up and pulled her to me, pressing myself into her buttocks. She turned, and we began pawing each other's body hungrily as the spray washed over us. I sank a sucking kiss into the crook of her neck and tried to kiss her mouth, but she slid out of my grip, giggling and bounding out of the shower. I caught her arm but she wriggled free and dashed back into her room.
I followed in hot pursuit, catching up to her alongside the bed and wrestling her down with me. We were a tangle of nude legs, arms, buttocks, breasts, bellies and genitals, rolling over and over in a sadistic tickling match that had both of us howling in tortuous glee.
At one point she had me pinned down-her thighs on top of mine, her abdomen pressing my organ against me, her breasts crushed into my chest, her forearms pressing down onto mine with all her weight. She tickled my ear with her mouth and her tongue-licking, biting, sucking, blowing hot and cold until it became unbearably exciting.
With all the strength my lithe young body could muster I heaved her over and rolled on top of her, grabbing her around the waist in a bear hug that enclosed her arms.
Then I began to tickle her. Raising my hips above hers and then lowering them, I began to brush my head back and forth across her lips, moving in ever so slightly and then withdrawing to tickle her some more.
I soon had her panting and writhing beneath me, begging me either to let her go or to give her all I had. I didn't know what she meant by giving her all I had, never having had a girl before, so I continued to tickle.
She seized the initiative. As I brushed once more across her and dipped lightly into her fold she thrust her hips up violently against mine and we were locked, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, pelvis to pelvis and bloodstream to incestuous bloodstream.
I didn't know what had happened but I had no time to be alarmed. My own delirious pleasure assured me the moans my sister was sounding into my ear had nothing to do with pain. And we began to move together, slowly at first and then more furiously, violently. We fit together perfectly, made of the same seed as we were, and our joint genes echoed in the rhythm of our thrust and counter thrust, in the way our hearts beat and our organs ground.
Young and impatient and utterly without experience until moments before, I drove away like a pile driver toward my own satisfaction. As I moved shudderingly toward the crescendo of sensation I could feel Sandy trying to hold me back but didn't know why and didn't stop but pumped and pumped until I broke into convulsions of blinding joy and stiffened my body into her as wave after wave of pleasure shocked through my bloodstream.
I collapsed onto her and then rolled away, sobbing with delirious satisfaction. I covered her shoulders and throat and breasts and face and feverish mouth with kisses. She seemed tense, unhappy, unsatisfied.
“What's the matter, Sandy?”
“Nothing,” she said, looking away.
“Was there something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“What, then?”
“I'll tell you later.”
“Shouldn't we have done that? Was there something wrong with us doing it?”
She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her breasts. She stared at me with those wide, stark blue eyes of hers, the pupils big and black, and kissed me with her open mouth. Then she leaned back again.
“There's supposed to be, but I think it's great. It's just-that it could have been better.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'll tell you later.”
“Tell me now.”
Our intimacy was busted into by the cracking, feeble voice of Grandma calling from the foot of the stairs below. “Children. Children! Time to get up. Breakfast is ready. You've slept long enough.” She rang her little dinner bell for several moments and then fell silent.
I looked for Sandy. She was gone. I got up and looked around. Under the bed. There she was.
“Get up. What are you doing under there?”
“I thought she was coming upstairs. I forgot all about her.”
“She hasn't come up these stairs for ten years. She's a cripple. You know that.”
“What if she heard us? She must have heard everything.”
“Sandy, what's the matter with you? She's stone deaf. What are you so ashamed of?”
“I'm not ashamed, Terry. I was just scared.”
She turned away. “You better go get dressed before she gets suspicious.”
TWO
I went back to my room, slipped on a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a tee shirt and rejoined Sandy. Still naked, she was brushing her hair, still wet, in front of the mirror. She told me to pick out a pair of panties and a bra for her. I chose the flimsiest and softest ones I could find and she told me to put them on her. I knelt in front of her and she stepped into the panties. She spread her legs and I slid them up her smooth thighs. Placing my head between the thighs I planted a long licking kiss there and pulled the garment up onto her haunches.
Next, the bra. Rising to one knee I began to suck and lick her breasts, nibbling on the nipples until she moaned and said, “Cut it out or we'll never get to breakfast.”
“This is all the breakfast I need, Mama.”
“Come on.”
I cupped her breasts with the skimpy bra and started fumbling with the strap. “How the hell does this work?”
“Go around the back and look, stupid little brother.”
I did so, and the bra fell to the floor. “The hell with it. You don't need it. You look better without it.”
Sandy, chuckling, threw down her brush and stepped into a pair of shorts and slid on a tight cotton Jersey that looked like an undershirt and we went downstairs holding hands.
“Well, well, well, my only baby's two beautiful babies,” Grandma said as we entered the dining room and kissed her in turn on the cheek and joined her at the table. “You both get a good sleep?”
I was very fond of the old girl. She was a wizened little old lady who, even though she lived alone, still dressed impeccably every day, powdered and perfumed-in honor, I suppose, of the TV game show celebrities in
