I had awakened on Christmas morning in the pull-out bed in my mom's living room. The odd part of that was finding that my own brother and I were cuddling – well, almost cuddling, I guess – after having fallen asleep there watching Christmas Eve movies.
In my innocent sleep, he had been touching me. I should mention that it was just his sleeping hand on the crest of my hip, and mind you, it was through my modest little cotton night-dress; and of course I did have panties on.
As I slowly woke up there in bed with him that Christmas morning, I found that his little touch on my hip was stimulating me. It probably began before my mind registered that the warm, gentle hand caressing my hip belonged to my own brother. Good old Frank.
No matter who it was, it affirmed the basic human fact that it is nice to be touched.
And the insistent stimulation that I felt probably began before I became aware that Frank had a full-blown erection as he lay next to me.
I knew all about "morning wood," but a part of me wondered if that firmness that I detected in his shorts was the result of us touching this way.
The real problem is that, once all of these things swam into focus in my groggy morning mind, they had aroused my body to the point that I was fairly sure that the panties I wore underneath my nightdress were starting to sport a visible wet spot.
I was becoming aroused. And as I let the morning slowly seep into me, I found that I was enjoying the sensations my body was giving me. I gently tensed and relaxed my thigh muscles in a way that I knew could eventually bring me to orgasm.
When, at last, we were both fully awake, Frank and I acknowledged the awkwardness of the situation we found ourselves in. We had come there to close out our mother's home after her passing. We had put that tough job aside after dinner on Christmas Eve, turning to silly holiday TV to try to raise our spirits. But as the night wore on, our sleeping bodies had found each other, and had obviously found something more than comfort in each other's touch.
And so it was that we had made love to each other there, on the sofa-bed, on Christmas morning, brother and sister. I can't really speak for him, but it had been far too long since I had felt a man inside of me. When we finished, and I helped him spill his semen on my naked belly (because, of course, I was not on the pill just then), I grew suddenly afraid that one or both of us would plunge into depths of regret.
As for myself, I felt no regret. I had drawn sexual pleasure from a man I knew loved me unconditionally. In fact, I was surprised to find that I had never felt so close to him as I climaxed on him and then let him climax on me. I held my hands on his slender bare hips and buried my face in his neck as he rubbed my shoulders. Apart from an orgasm, nothing had ever felt so good as this touching.
And yet, we did not kiss on the mouth. Funny, isn't it, the barriers we have that we won't cross?
I got up after a while and warmed a washcloth under the faucet, and cleaned his orgasm from me. Then I rinsed it again under the water and took the cloth out into the living room.
I made no attempt to cover myself as I returned from the bathroom. My brother and I had just shared the most intimate embrace, so there was no reason for me suddenly to pretend a false modesty. If he wanted to look at my body now, well, I thought, have a nice look!
Frank had propped himself up on the pillows and was playing with the TV remote. He had made no attempt to cover himself, either, and I could see that his softening penis and his pubic hair were still moist from our lovemaking.
Feeling playful, then, I tossed the wet washcloth straight at him, and he snatched it out of the air. As he craned his neck to look down while he cleaned himself off, I bent down and gave him a peck on his cheek.
It was the closest we had come to a kiss.
"Merry Christmas," I said softly.
"Merry Christmas," he smiled in reply. "So," he began, and then he hesitated, and a whisper of doubt passed over his face.
I stood up straight, acutely conscious that my girl-parts were right at his eye level. Still, the twinge that this caused in my belly was a good one, and, feeling playful, I drew him out. "So...?" I put my hands on my hips.
"Well, let me just put it this way," he continued. "I don't mind that we just...," and he made a wave of his hand, "so... how about you?"
What a sweet man. He wanted to know if I was OK with the fact that my brother had just fucked me. I understood his concern. Under other circumstances, this thing we had done – this incest – would have been a source of legitimate upset. But we were both fully grown adults, and both (I presume) well-experienced in bed. We had taken a moment to cool off from the initial arousing touch, and we had then chosen to share that experience.
I wanted nothing more than to convince him that I was OK. So I jabbed him in that soft spot just below his ribs and I laughed. "You don't mind? That's all you've got? You don't mind?"
His naked body curled up in response to my tickling jab, and he laughed with me. "Hey, hey, wait," he said. When his body relaxed again, he looked at me with renewed seriousness and he added, "really, Jen, I think it was awesome. I've always thought that my sister was hot."
I sat down on the pull-out mattress and took the washcloth from him. And although he now seemed to be clean and completely recovered from our little romp in the sheets, I leaned over and pretended to clean a spot just at the base of his cock. It didn't escape my attention that he started to thicken again at my touch.
I stopped, then, and sat back up straight. "Well," I paused, "we shouldn't make it a habit, you know. But, yeah...," and my voice trailed off as I smiled and sighed. He smiled back, the hint of doubt on his face giving way to his own broad smile. He reached up and touched my arm, but I stood and turned away, fully aware that this presented him with a glorious view of my ass.
"But I'll tell you this," I said with mock sternness. "Once the roads are cleared, I'm going down to that drug store and buying some condoms. I know you guys think that stuff is good for the skin, but, you know, really!"
With that, I tossed the cum-soaked washcloth back onto his belly and I marched back out of the room and into the guest room. I paused just long enough to get one more look at his body before I swung the door closed.
Over the course of the following week, we had moved on from packing up personal belongings to the harder chore of cleaning the place so that it could be shown for sale.
This was a grubby and thankless task, and at the end of each day we managed something for dinner, but there was no sexual tension between us.
Still, the thought crossed my mind more than once during the week that, once the roads were cleared, I would indeed drive into town and buy a package of condoms so Frank and I could lie together in his bed one more time, and I imagined over and over him reaching his orgasm while still inside of me. The problem of pregnancy aside, there is something simply delicious about feeling a man's penis throbbing, and knowing that he is past the point of control, while he is thrusting himself inside my body.
