Brigitte and My Sister Anja

Note: These are excerpts from a journal I keep and if they seem non sequitor it is because I'm not ready to reveal everything that occurred between my sister and me. I would also like to thank those who took the time to pass on their comments to my earlier submission (Moving My Sister). These are all true incidents which occurred at various stages of my life starting rather early. Some of them are out of order but it would take too much time to rewrite them in proper sequence. Enjoy.

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Brigitte: It was during this period that I had my "on now and off again" relationship with Brigitte. She was my best friend's sister and lived in a city about 300 miles away. My family knew I was seeing her but only my sister was privy to the intimate details of our relationship. She was part Armenian Jew and part Scandinavian, a very pretty girl who, as I found out, shared my predilection for oral sex. When we started dating it was evident that she was not very experienced having had only one short and unsatisfactory relationship and though she was not a virgin, she shyly admitted to never having tried fellatio. Once her curiosity was piqued, I didn't have to try very hard to persuade her; she seemed eager for the new experience and I was only too wiling to oblige her. One evening during some heavy petting, she whispered that she was ready and wanted me in her mouth.

"Tor, I'm ready ... I really want to do it!" she was breathing heavily while fumbling with the buckle of my belt and was actually blushing when she said this.

At first she was hesitant, holding my throbbing member in her hand while tentatively exploring the tip with her serpentine tongue. I ran my fingers through her thick, Auburn hair and pulled her gently down towards the glistening dome-shaped head, eager for her to pleasure me. And as a drop of clear, sticky fluid seeped from the Cyclops-like eye, she used her fingers to spread it over the helmet of my cock but was still hesitant to use her mouth -

"Suck it, Brigitte; just try it ... if you don't like it we'll stop."

This seemed to allay her fears and looking straight into my eyes she gingerly parted her lips, allowing the head to slowly slip in to her mouth. She sucked me in almost halfway and when I hit the back of her throat, she gagged a bit and moved back to the top, sucking the head in and out in rapid succession. She then took me out of her mouth and licked the head a few times:

"Mmmm ... nice. You taste nice ..." she said before sucking me back in while caressing the shaft with her fingers.

I just watched not wanting to rush her. Gradually she got used to the taste and texture and went about her novel chore with predatory fervor. What she lacked in skill, she made up with instinctive enthusiasm. However, I had to caution her a few times about her teeth:

"Watch your teeth, baby, not so hard ..."

"Sorry ..." she'd look up and mumble around my throbbing cock.

Seeing her bob up and down with her hair cascading wildly about her was a treat and it didn't take too long before I exploded, shooting my ejaculate down her constricting throat while mumbling deliriously:

"I'm cumming ... suck the head, harder ... harder ... suck it, drink it, drink it all ... ohhhhh ..."

She swallowed most of the thick, opalescent fluid but some leaked around my pulsing stem, dribbling down the sides of her mouth. She continued to gently suck on my softening cock until I was completely dry and I knew then that she was hooked. She looked up at me with a satisfied smile and asked:

"That was fantastic ... can we do it again?"

"Not now, baby, give me some time to recover ..."

It seemed that she could never get enough and in a very short time, transcended her stature as a novice becoming one of the more orally prolific women I've known. It wasn't unusual for Brigitte to suck me off me three times a day while fingering herself to several orgasms.

Brigitte & my sister: There was one particular incident which remains rooted in my memory, an incident which involved Brigitte and my sister, Anja. It seems appropriate to add that from an objective and unbiased perspective they shared a lot in common; aside from their good looks, they were both athletes with gregarious personalities and both exuded a smoldering sensuality. Brigitte looked like an ersatz Catherine Etta Jones while my sister was more the classic ethnic beauty; tall and dusky with smoldering almond eyes and a pouting mouth. They were both young and in their prime and I had often fantasized of a ménage à trois with them. Now, knowing my sister, I knew that this wasn't even a remote possibility but it was something I often thought about especially when they were together.

Anja and I had gone to visit Brigitte, who lived with her parents in a small apartment and it so happened that her older sister Sandra was there visiting from Ebbo. I had dated Sandra briefly before I left for the US but it did not lead to anything serious and we joked about the fact that I was now dating her younger sister -- "settling for seconds" was how she laughingly put it. Sandra was happily married and a mother of two little boys. While we were chatting, Brigitte walked up and under the pretext of needing help to move a bookcase, led me away to her bedroom. Anja looked at us suspiciously but did not say anything.

Once inside, Brigitte closed the door and without much preamble kissed me passionately while fumbling with the zipper of my trousers. Then dropping to her knees she adroitly released my hardening penis pushing me against the door and swooping in, she stuffed my cock into her mouth and began sucking for all she was worth.

"Ohhh ... mmhhh ..." was all I could muster.

Incredulously, while this was happening, I could hear the clattering of dishes from the kitchen where her mother, Sandra and Anja were preparing for tea. The apartment was a converted section of an old house with doors that had gaping spaces in them and I was certain that they could hear the unmistakable moans and slurping sounds of our virulent though indiscreet passion.

"Shhh ... Brigitte, quiet ... Ohhh ..."

But Brigitte seemed undeterred as she continued with her licentious task taking the firm, rubbery sausage deep into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head, trying to melt it like she would a hard candy or Tootsie Roll. She continued to moan, slurping loudly while she serviced me.

I leaned back and closing my eyes permitted the familiar images of my sister to float through my mind blurring the boundary between fantasy and reality where misty holograms of our faces and bodies were woven loosely together in a surreal tapestry. Images of my sister sharing my cock with Brigitte, taking turns sucking on its sensitive head brought me quickly to the edge but just then there was a knock on the door.

"Tea is served ..." It was my sister.

Brigitte and I froze instantly. Remarkably, she kept me in her mouth, continuing to gently rub my rigid stem with her tongue.

"We're coming ... give us a minute ..." I said my voice strained and unable to resist the obvious play on words. There was a drawn out silence where all I could hear was the beating of my heart accompanied by the soft, wet sounds of Brigitte's indefatigable tongue. And then:

"Okay, but don't be long ... it'll get cold." She sounded irritated and terse; not like her at all. I didn't hear her footsteps and knew that she was still there, just outside the door.

When I looked down, Brigitte smiled and resumed her task, stroking my shaft with her fingers while she suctioned me with her lips. Now that the fear of discovery had passed, the thought that my sister was with us only intensified my excitement. It was too much for me and I felt the waves of pleasure emanating from my groin, shooting towards the tip of my penis and in that final lust-filled instant of reckoning I called out to her, a strangled wretched gasp, willing her to bridge the quantum of time and space to merge with us in this cryptic ballet while I pumped my viscous secretions down Brigitte's eager throat.

"Anja ..." I whispered as I doubled over, my voice soft and hoarse, "Anja ... suck me, baby sister, ohh ... please, don't stop ... drink it ... suck me dry."

The climax was incomparably intense and as she coaxed the last, reluctant drops out of me I leaned back against the door, completely spent. Brigitte looked up with a strange, knowing glint in her eyes and while I tried to regain a modicum of composure she gave my rapidly shrinking penis a playful kiss then standing up hugged me and looking like the cat that had just gobbled the canary, she waltzed out to join the others in the kitchen. I half expected her to run into my sister but Anja must have left while we were finishing up, breaching the nexus of our tableau vivant.

To this day I'm not certain if Brigitte had heard my muffled cry and had gained an insight to my troubling need but shortly after this incident, on several occasions she questioned me about Anja; whether I thought she was sexy or beautiful etc. to which I always answered:

"What's the matter with you? Yeah, she's pretty but she's my sister ... I don't look at her like that!"

Many years later, my sister confessed that she had remained by the door and heard Brigitte's amorous administrations and was jealous beyond comprehension. She had gone into the bathroom to compose herself and found that her panties were soaked. But that is all she would divulge at that time.

No one ever knew about my obsession with my younger sister with the possible exception of my sister herself and even then I'm not sure whether she fully comprehended the extent to which I desired her. We were a close knit family and everyone assumed that our relationship was just that; a brother and sister who shared a strong filial bond. But unlike most brothers, I had experienced my sister sexually and both of us were cognizant of the intensely libidinous affect she had on me.

The Incident: as was customary, the girls in our village got married at a rather young age and my family wanted my sister to get married. For me, it was a confusing period -- I too wanted her to be happy but there was a part of me that wanted her for myself. Some might consider this irrational but at that time, nothing made more sense. During the past months we had grown closer, almost inseparable and though I was involved with Brigitte, I was about to terminate that relationship.

On the night before my birthday something changed for my sister which led to an encounter I have yet to fully comprehend because she had been reluctant to revive our incestuous relationship. I was leaving the next day to visit Brigitte; she had missed her period and was distraught, convinced that I had gotten her pregnant and I felt that the least I could do was to be by her side when she visited the doctor. My sister had offered to accompany me but I had turned her down:

"It's best I go alone and take care of the mess."

That sultry night in June, my sister decided to turn in earlier than she normally did and as she walked by the couch I was laying on, she stopped:

"Are you coming to bed soon?" she quizzed.

There was something in her tone and the manner in which she looked at me that was different but being preoccupied, I thought nothing of it. I was in the middle of an interesting book by Robert Ludlum and wanted to finish it so I wouldn't have to carry it with me the next day.

"You go on; I'll be there soon ..."

But as she walked away I couldn't help but notice her slender legs and the sensual curve of her callipygian ass and felt the familiar stirring of my cock. It is extraordinary that just the sight of her thighs could get me excited.

For several reasons, my sister and I chose to share a bedroom. The old house has only two bathrooms and the guest room was occupied by our brother and his wife. I could have slept on the large couch in the living room but it was uncomfortable at best and since Anja and I often talked late into the night no one considered us sharing a bedroom to be strange. We had always been close so this was assumed to be the obvious option.

The room was adjacent to the Master Bedroom (which my parents shared) and had the beds drawn together, conveniently juxtaposed. In retrospect, considering the circumstances of our relationship and the attraction we felt for each other, sharing a bedroom might not have been the wisest thing to do. But the excitement of being close to her shunted any rational thought and within the stealth of nightfall I was always filled with titillating anticipation.

Invariably during the night my sister would kick back the sheets unaware that her rumpled camisole exposed more than her modesty would have ordinarily permitted; the moonlit image of her shimmering dishabille providing a constant stimulus for my already heightened libido. She was strikingly beautiful and while she slept the gilded hieroglyphics painted by masquerading silhouettes would dance tantalizingly over her body, hiding the object of my desire within the crevasse of her thighs leaving their wanton interpretations to the sole discretion of this stealthy purveyor. And from the vantage of my shadowy sanctuary I'd study her languid body, furtively wondering what she would taste and feel like - the old cliché "her looking good enough to eat" held a literal connotation for me.

Most of my fantasies revolved around my pleasuring her; to arouse her to the point where she was free from parochial dogma while submitting to her molting sexuality. I knew that she was physically attracted to me; like Yin and Yang, the male and female forces which complement each other, I could sense it and felt her intrinsic field like that of a strong magnet on its polar opposite but there was an underlying need (on my part) to have her acknowledge our singularly intense relationship.

There were many nights when caught in the suffocating heat of passion, I would lean over her with my face inches from her panties, teetering on the precipice of uncertainty, torn between doubt and desire, intoxicated by the scent of her sex and made giddy by my carnal need to posses her ... to return to a time when our innocent exploration had culminated in incestuous coitus. Until one particular night while she slept with her legs splayed, I was overcome by the concupiscent urge to taste her and without thought of any consequence; I impulsively licked her cunt through the flimsy material of her panties.

Time slowed and the moment seemed to stretch forever as my tongue ran the liquid length of her thinly veiled slit finally caressing the pleasure node perched at her apex. I licked again, this time more forcefully flattening my tongue and felt her body shudder involuntarily, accompanied by a sleepy, whispered moan and then I felt her hand on the back of my head, her fingers tangled in the dense layers of my hair.

"Ummm ... Tor?" she muttered sleepily, her eyes still shut.

"It's nothing ... go back to sleep ..." my heart pounding in my head.

I remained still above her, my mind racing with a million excuses, none of which offered any plausible rationale; only the unassailable realization that I was trapped. But after a few moments, she mumbled unintelligibly as her fingers relaxed and then I felt the gentle brush of her thigh against my jaw as she rolled over and away from me. I heard the bed creak as I lay back and with the faint, piquant taste of her lingering on my tongue, returned to my prurient proclivity stroking myself with renewed fervor. Then, my senses laced by her somatic flavors, I climaxed violently spewing ropes of cum into her camisole and onto the bed sheets. Several overzealous spurts landed on her thigh and I wanted to wipe them clean but instead, I drifted slowly away and fell asleep haunted by dreams of the many women who had pleasured me in her place. We never discussed the incident but I do know that the next morning she washed her camisole by hand and did not leave it in the hamper.

These overt sexual games were reserved for the night where under the protective blanket of darkness, we would often lie "spooned" together, her back to me with my turgid erection pressed against the cleft of her bottom. She usually wore shorts or a diaphanous negligee which would invariably climb up her thighs exposing her scant panties. I am certain she felt my priapic hardness throbbing against her but she did not move away nor did she protest the nocturnal frottage as I rocked imperceptibly back and forth, rubbing my cock against her panty-covered crack until my body would tense up and I would cum against her. On many occasions, as I lay pressed to her back, breathing heavily in the aftermath of this Freudian game, there was an obvious, musky redolence of sex which would have been impossible to miss and I knew she sensed it. But she always pretended to be asleep.

In the mornings, the sunlight streaming through the lace curtains brought with it a different set of filial dynamics. In hindsight, it is unbelievable that we acted like nothing unusual had occurred as we went about our daily routines. She would be withdrawn and introspective for a while but like a moth to a flame, she would reenter our Cyprian play reigniting our sordid passion.

We never discussed or acknowledged the sexual interplay or the attraction we felt but rather chose to segregate it within the confines of a parallel reality. I would often find her panties in the hamper hidden under other clothes, the rear stained and crusted with my sperm, the crotch warm and moist with her juices. The thought that she was creaming while I was dry-humping her was almost too much for me. I would hold it to my face and inhale the heady fragrance of her sex. The effect was always immediate and predictable; I would release my straining cock and wrapping the soft, satiny undergarment around its bloated head I would stroke myself and urged on by thoughts of her seeping, liquid cunt I would ejaculate, shooting ropes of viscous cum into her moist panties; our juices mingling in defiance to a forbidden union. As I wiped my cock clean, I wondered what my Mom or Runa (the laundry woman who came over once a week) would think when washing my sister's panties!

I've digressed - well, back to the time this occurred: A few hours later, having finished the book, I eased myself into bed trying not to wake her up. As I lay down I heard the soft rustle of sheets and felt the shiver of my bed and the next thing I knew, my sister had moved over and was hugging me tightly, burying her face in my neck. She pressed her body fiercely to mine so that I could feel her nipples, erect and hard through her exiguous t-shirt and as her breasts squashed against my chest, I felt the pounding of her heart. The urgency of her embrace was a powerful aphrodisiac and my cock reacted instantly, becoming hard. The blood pounded in my head and I remember running my hands down her sides, over the skimpy, blue shorts and cupping her ass as I pulled her up against me.

"Why did you take so long? I was waiting for you ... I'm sorry I fell asleep!" she was whispering into my ear "I wanted to give you your birthday present before you left."

Without thinking, I undid the drawstring of my pajama trousers and it fell away when I forced myself between her legs. I was now lying on top of her, naked from the waist down, my rigid stem pressed firmly against her crotch.

"Oh, God ... mmm ..." she stifled a moan and pushed back with her hips while her arms held me to her. She was gnawing on her lower lip, her eyes scrunched tight and as we adjusted our bodies, the old wooden bed creaked loudly:

"It may not be able to take our weight, Tor ..." she whispered.

But I was beyond caring. I was driven by the pent-up desire for my sister, my mind consumed by streaming, lascivious thoughts and the steamy images of our early sexual encounters. I remembered the time, many, many years ago, pulling down her bloomers (underpants) and fucking her. Her icy-hot breath against my ear; the high pitched moans and the urgency of her hips grinding back against me; she was lost in torrid passion as I ploughed into her. And, the many times I had masturbated to those memories during the long, cold, winter nights. Now here she was; mine again ...