The pleasure gripped me too hard for me to notice anything more. All I could feel was every successive burst of semen. Each a slightly lower peak than the last. Finally, it subsided, and I was able to look up at my sister.
She was sitting in the same position as before. Her eyes were distant. I could see my spend had truly spattered her. She was covered with my white stuff. But rather than be disgusted (as most of the girls I’d gone with would be), Betsy was running her hands through it, idly.
In fact, I realized, she was doing more than that. My sister was rubbing my sperm right into her bare skin. Like slathering on lotion. She lovingly spread my spend over her tummy, making sure every bit of it was sucked up.
“It’s so warm,” she said, repeating those words again and again. Like a kind of mantra. “I didn’t know it would feel so warm.”
“You OK?” I asked.
Betsy nodded, absently. “You?”
“Oh yes,” I said. I hadn’t meant it to come out like that, but it had. Fortunately, Betsy just giggled.
“I’m sorry,” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Betsy said, “This is awesome. I didn’t realize your cum would be like this. It’s like covering myself in liquid heat.”
“98.7 degrees, or thereabouts,” I said.
“I’m so comfy now, I don’t think we even need to kiss anymore,” Betsy said.
“Oh,” I said. Unable to hide my disappointment. Did I love that handjob? Damn straight I did. But I felt like I was missing out if we skipped the kissing part.
“Don’t worry,” Betsy said, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek, “I’ll need more warming up tomorrow.”
My sister practically skipped out of my room, grabbing her sweatshirt on the way out. I had no trouble sleeping that night, that’s for sure.
*
“It’s not fair,” Betsy said, slapping her thighs like a little girl who was just told she couldn’t get ice cream.
We were both sitting on the couch. My parents were milling around the house, so we’d yet to initiate our evening activities. Instead, we gave each other little teasing touches underneath the blanket. Pokes to the side and strokes to the shoulders. Nothing untoward.
I’d put the TV on again, but neither of us even pretended to watch. Instead, we enjoyed each other’s company. The way we played and flirted, it felt more like an evening with a girlfriend than a sibling. I was certainly fine with that.
Betsy, however, was full of complaints. Despite her discovery from the previous night, she’d woken up as cold as always. And it really bothered her for some reason.
“In the moment, covered in your stuff. I mean, it felt better than any sweater I’d ever worn.”
“Mom. Dad,” I said, “In the kitchen.”
“I want to feel that way all the time,” Betsy continued, ignoring my warning. “And I don’t think I can jerk you off every three hours. Can I?”
As much as that thought seemed temtping in the moment, I knew my eyes were too big for my testicles. I’d be ready to die after three days of that, no doubt.
“What if I, you know, returned the favor?” I asked.
I was very much interested in that idea, let me tell you. Just the idea of seeing my sister’s parts was enticement enough. But getting to touch them, bring her to the same peak she’d brought me, that was an amazing thought.
“Doesn’t work,” Betsy said. She gave me a wan smile. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“We’re going to bed, kids,” Dad said, leading my mom up the stairs. They gave us a wave, like we were a normal pair of siblings having a regular evening instead of a couple waiting to make out like the horny kids we truly were.
“I wonder if they’re going to do it,” Betsy mused.
“I try not to think about such things,” I said, “It kind of ruins my interest in doing them, myself.”
“Don’t do that then,” Betsy said, “I need your little soldier to be ready to go into battle as soon as possible.”
“Little?!” I asked, pretending to be upset.
Betsy rolled her eyes at me. “Boys,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Trust me, you’re plenty big enough. I don’t know how it compares but based on how I can barely get my fingers around it. I mean, that’s a pretty good sign that I shouldn’t be shoving it anywhere else.”
“Probably not,” I said.
Was I having fun with what we were doing? You bet. Was I still very much aware that it was with my sister? Also a stone cold lock. I knew there were lines that we shouldn’t cross. So, all for the better that we agreed we weren’t going there.
“Speaking of which, up to your bedroom?” Betsy asked. I nodded, far too eagerly.
Both of us rumbled into my room, shutting the door behind us. I stripped off my clothes, but rather than bother with the pjs, I stayed naked. I climbed onto my bed and lay down on top of the covers.
Betsy, to my surprise, stripped off her sweatshirt and other layers above her waist. She was wearing another full cup bra, a blue one. I couldn’t tell too much, but it sure seemed like her chest greatly outstripped her flat, tight tummy.
Betsy crawled onto the bed, like a stalking cat, and started to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around her back, feeling her bare skin. It felt electric, illicit, like I was getting away with something even more forbidden than making out with my sister. I had access to something that no one had ever seen, let alone felt.
Betsy writhed against me. She held my head, tight, as she pressed her lips to mine. My hardness, naturally, slotted itself between her soft, sweatpants-covered legs. My sister ground herself into my cock.
Finally, we broke apart. Betsy gave me a wild grin, then sat up. Without warning, she grabbed my dick and started stroking it up and down. Despite my release the day before, I was no less hard and ready.
“I wish it lasted longer,” Betsy said, thoughtfully, while she worked me up and down.
It took me a moment to realize she meant the heat of my ejaculate, and not anything else.
“There’s not much I can do about that,” I said.
“No, I know,” Betsy said, “I just feel that with the hugging and kissing. Now this. We’re so close to solving this puzzle, I swear.”
“Have you tried using the boomerang together with the torch and the bombs?”
“Well, clearly I’ve found the Master Sword,” Betsy said, eyeing my dick. Her face turned super serious. “I want to be warm. For one day. Is that really too much to ask?”
“I don’t know what else there is I can do,” I said. As if lying back and letting my sister give me a handjob was the absolute peak of my efforts.
“It feels so good on my skin, but after it just…” Betsy stopped mid-sentence. Mid-stroke. “Huh.”
“What’s up?”
“I have an idea,” Betsy said, “Will you let me try it?”
I eyed her, nervously. There were lots of paths Betsy could be taking us down, I realized, and most of them did not end well. I had the upsetting picture in my head of her tying me to a skateboard, lighting a rocket, and sending me down a steep hill to my doom. As if my sister were Wile E. Coyote or something.
“It’s not bad,” Betsy said, sensing my apprehension. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”
“I’m pretty sure the last time you told me that, you tried to feed me a mud pie.”
Betsy rolled her eyes and exhaled, loudly. “Just lie back, OK?”
I did as I was told. My sister started off the right way, she leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. Again, I was overwhelmed by it. Not only the feel of her lips but the strawberry scent of her hair. The way it felt very much like I was kissing a woman and yet also smooching my sister. A sickening twist not unlike going down the first hill on the rollercoaster. Scary and fun. Fun because it’s scary.
Betsy let her lips drift lower, like marking a trail so she could find her way back later. My ears and my neck. Down the center of my chest. As her mouth got closer to my dick, it became pretty clear what she had in mind. And this, well, it was way better than a mudpie (better than being sent down a hill on a rocket skateboard, too).
“Ohhh, Bets,” I groaned as my sister’s lips made contact with my cock. It was only a kiss, but already I was aching for more.
My sister slowly pecked her way around my pole. She dabbed her tongue against my shaft.
“That’s nice,” she said, smacking her lips, “My girlfriends said it was gross, but I kinda like it. Very man-y.”
“You should give it a really good taste to be sure,” I said. Again, I didn’t know what part of my brain was sending out these stupid sayings, but the rest of my mind did not approve.
Betsy gave my comment the disdainful look it deserved. But then she gripped my dick and steered it into her mouth.
“Oh yeah, that’s much better,” she said.
I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. I was too enveloped in bliss to care. The warm, wetness of Betsy’s mouth slowly engulfed me. I was no longer capable of doing anything but lying back and making incomprehensible noises.
Betsy slurped up and down my shaft. Her innocent face contorted around my cock into the sexiest expression imaginable. Her mouth gaped open. Her eyes wide and eager.
“Ummm,” she said, as she shluck, shluck, shlucked up and down my dick.
My sister didn’t need instruction this time. It was like she took what she learned with her hand and simply applied it to her mouth. She added little flourishes as she went. Twisted and swirled her tongue in all the right ways. But it was more than her actions. Her enthusiasm, her affection, it took everything over the top.
Natural born cocksucker sounds like an insult, but I’m telling you my sister should have it engraved on her wall. Calligraphed onto sheepskin. She was that fucking amazing on her first go.
Which was a good thing, because I was quickly losing my mind. Words devolved into sensations. All I could do was lie back and drool while my sister did her thing on my dick. She started sliding her fist up and down along with her mouth and I was down to a puddle.
“Warn me before he spits,” Betsy said. Weirdly casual, like telling me to watch out for jalapenos on the nachos.
“Uhhhhh.” I swear that was a whole sentence about what an amazing job my little sister was doing. On how lucky I felt to have this experience for even a second, let alone for longer. A deep and entrancing monologue on the nature of love and its expression through lips and tongue given life over my cock.