Charlie and Mindy B. 02

This is the third chapter of seven in Book 2 of the

Charlie and Mindy

tetralogy—which is a story of forbidden love between a brother and a sister.

While Book 2 stands on its own, it refers to events that took place in Book 1. Book 1 also contains some of Charlie and Mindy's family history that bears on the story. You may therefore want to read Book 1 before reading Book 2.

This is a rewrite of a series I posted in the past and removed for a while.

Please leave your comments. I try to respond to non-anonymous comments within a few days.

—CarlusMagnus

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning, a Sunday, we woke up at about half past eight. I was on my side with my little sister Mindy's naked body nestled up against mine. My morning boner rested in her cleft and my hand cupped her tit. It had been three weeks since we'd spent the night in the same bed, but we'd found our way, still sleeping, into our favorite position nevertheless. She was stirring slightly, trying to get a little closer than close.

I kissed the back of her neck. She moaned a little "Mmmm" and wiggled back against me even more tightly. I kissed her neck again and squeezed her tit, tweaked her nipple gently.

"Mmmm," she moaned again. Drowsily, she said, "I really do like to wake up in your arms, Big Brother. I feel like it's where I belong."

"I like it, too. And you do belong here."

"But you wasted a bottle of wine last night," she went on.

"How's that?"

"You got me good and drunk by pouring all that wine into me, but then you didn't take advantage of me. I'll bet I'd have been a pushover."

"Damn! It was late and I forgot!"

She was wiggling her ass against me, stroking my cock with her hot little furrow. I continued to tweak her nipple.

"Too late now. I'm sober again. And maybe just a little hung over."

I was a little hung over myself. But her pussy continued to stroke my boner. She wasn't

too

hung over. I kissed her neck again. Neither was I.

"How's your DSB?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I might have a relapse brewing," I admitted. "Maybe I need some preventive treatment. How's your SSDD?"

"I might have a relapse in the making, too," she said. "Preventive treatment might be a good idea. Do you want to go pee first? Or shall I?"

"Go ahead," I said, "I'll just go downstairs—there's nobody home down there."

"Okay," she replied. "But first…"

She rolled over in my arms until we were facing each other. Her right arm wormed its way under my neck and her left arm encircled me, just below my own arm. My hard cock was again between her thighs, right up against her pussy. My lips found hers, and we savored the day's first kiss. Then we broke and headed off to the bathrooms.

My boner subsided when I peed, but it had reasserted itself by the time I reached the head of the stairs. Mindy had already found her way back into my bed and was waiting—not particularly patiently—for me. She grinned at the sight of my hard-on and, reaching out and grabbing it, she pulled me into bed with her. I took her into my arms again and kissed her. If I hadn't already been hard, the lovely feel of her naked little body against my own naked body would certainly have gotten me there.

After a minute or so, she broke our kiss. Without further ado, she rolled me onto my back, got up onto her hands and knees, moved to a position between my thighs—which parted automatically to make room for her—and took my cock into her mouth.

I looked down to see her naked back sloping up away from me, ending in the gentle curves of her naked ass. Her head bobbed up and down as her mouth worked on me. She felt my eyes on her, and her smiling eyes returned my gaze. Even though they moved up and down, I felt myself drawn into those deep blue pools as the sensations she brought my cock overwhelmed me. Involuntarily, I began to move in response, in and out of her mouth. My hands reached down, took her head between them, and gently encouraged her to take me more and more deeply.

Suddenly, almost before I was aware it would happen, my cum exploded into her soft, warm, wet mouth. Feeling my orgasm begin, she took my shaft into her right hand and held her mouth down against it, giving me the feeling that my cock was embedded to its full length. Again, again, again, Big Brother pumped his cum into Little Sister's mouth. I thrashed and moaned as the spasms overcame me. With one final contraction, my orgasm ended and I collapsed into a heap of warm flesh on the bed. Gradually, I recovered my equilibrium; she continued to work on me with her mouth, milking the last drops of cum out of me.

Her eyes, as magnificently blue as ever, smiled at me as she gave my rapidly shrinking cock a last little stroke with her tongue.

"God," I said, as she released my cock and brought herself back up to lie beside me at my left, "that felt so good!"

She arranged herself so that she lay on her side, her head on my shoulder, her arm around my chest. I felt her boobs against my side, her little fur patch against my hip. I wrapped an arm around her and clasped her.

She giggled. "I'm glad it felt good. I love having you come in my mouth. I can feel how your cock pulses. It expands a little each time more cum spurts out, and then it contracts again. I can really feel those changes when I have you in my mouth. I haven't made you come that way since our trip to the mountains, and I'd almost forgotten how much I like it."

She raised her head, brought her lips to mine, kissed me deeply—and I tasted my own semen once again from her loving mouth. She laid her head back on my shoulder.

I reached over and stroked her ear, her cheek, her chin. Then I worked my hand in between our bodies to find her cleft. She was wet, hot. "I think it's your turn, now," I said, as I gave her clit a few gentle flicks. I heard the smile in her answering moan.

I maintained my fingers' contact with her pussy as I rolled gently toward her, pushing her onto her back. As we rolled, I brought my lips to her throat and began kissing a trail from there down between her tits. After a side trip to each of her nipples, I continued downward toward her bellybutton and beyond. My cock was soft, done for the morning—she'd seen to that. But I still had lips and tongue, and I was pretty sure that I knew how to use them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When she came back down to Earth, I pulled myself back up to lie beside her. Her head returned to its place on my shoulder. I brought my arm around, clasped that hand with the other near her waist, and held her. Her arm sprawled across my chest, and she drew her leg up, knee folded, until it lay across my thighs. We lay there on the bed for a while, each enjoying the other's naked closeness.

After a few minutes, I said, "Mindy?"

"What?"

"You're so good to me, and I love you so much." I squeezed her as I said it.

"Oh, Big Brother!" She gave a last moan and squeezed me back. I could hear another smile in her voice when she answered, "You're even better to me, and I love you even more."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was mid-morning when we finally decided that we couldn't spend the whole day lying in bed snuggling with each other—though we agreed that it might be an experiment worth trying sometime. For one thing, my apartment-mate, George, was due to arrive in a few hours. And for another, far more important thing—at least at the moment—we were hungry. a whole day's worth of snuggling, we agreed, involved problems in logistics that we weren't prepared for.

After we had shared another shower—and the usual extracurricular activities—Mindy said it was her turn to cook. She found eggs and bacon in the refrigerator, and a half-a-loaf of bread on the kitchen counter. Looking again, she found milk, cheese, butter, and jam in the fridge. Before long, she'd whipped us up a breakfast fit for an army—half-a-dozen eggs, eight slices of bacon, six slices of butter-and-jammed toast. We downed every last bit of it, wondering what we'd do for lunch in about an hour-and-a-half.

After breakfast, we compared our class schedules. I'd registered for my fall courses the previous spring. Mindy had finally had the opportunity to register just that Friday. And she'd had the time to buy the books she'd need for the semester at the college bookstore on Saturday afternoon—shortly before she'd come over to my place.

She had managed to get into the same sections of French and of calculus that I was in. We were in the same courses in those subjects, because I hadn't been much of a scholar, and I'd pretty much wasted my high school years. Mindy hadn't. She'd taken a lot of AP courses, including AP French and AP calculus, so she'd placed directly into the third college semester of both those courses, while I hadn't begun those subjects until I was in college..

We both had Physical Education courses that met from two until two-fifty every Monday. But even though they met at the same time, they were different courses and met in different places. Most men's P.E. and women's P.E. courses were kept rigidly separate—for fear that the men and the women would try to educate each other physically, we all supposed. (We all believed that college administrators took it for granted that men and women of college age would immediately get naked and do what comes naturally if allowed to be in each other's company without responsible supervision—and that they would conspire to evade that supervision even when it was provided. Administrators certainly acted that way—it was why, for example the college had yet to move into the Twentieth Century by allowing co-ed dorms. Naturally, we resented their attitude—never mind that there was a certain amount of truth underlying it.)

When we finished our comparison, we found that there were only 18 daytime hours every week when classes would prevent us from being alone with each other. There would be other constraints—like George's class schedule, which I didn't yet know—that could keep us from having private time with each other, but this was an encouraging start.

After we'd thought about our schedules, I walked Mindy back to her dorm. She wanted to drop off her backpack in her room and change her clothes. On the way there, we decided we'd eat lunch in the dorm dining hall. I would have to pay, but Mindy's meal was already paid for. The dorms didn't serve Sunday evening meals, though, so we would be on our own for supper. We figured we'd like one meal that day—even if it was dormitory food—that we didn't have to take care of on our own.

Mindy had begun to learn her way around campus during Orientation Week, but I thought I could help her avoid playing the usual "lost freshman" game of trying to find her classes during our first week of school. So, after lunch, we spent some time together finding her classrooms and the ways to get between them.

She was excited at the prospect of finally beginning college work. As we walked down the main passage through the central classroom building, Koch Hall, she bubbled over.

"Oh, Charlie! It's real! I'm going to college! Me!"

"You sure are," I said. "You grown-up, you!"

She put her arm around my waist and squeezed me. "Well,

pretty

grown-up—but not

real

grown-up. I'm nervous. What if I can't do the work? What if I'm not smart enough?"

I looked around us; we were in an empty hallway off of which opened only classrooms that nobody, except a guy showing his freshman sister her way around, would visit on a Sunday afternoon before classes had even started. So I stopped in my tracks. I reached around and turned her toward me as I turned toward her. I took her by the chin and raised her worried face to look up at me as I smiled down at her. I kissed her gently, quickly, on the lips.

"Mindy, if you can't do the work, there are a

lot

of other people here who are going to flunk out with you. Most of them, in fact." I smiled down at her and went on, "I know you think I'm smarter than you, because you told me so. But whether I am or not, you're still the smartest person I know, and I don't have any doubt that you'll do well."

"I don't know…" She really was worried.

"I have faith in you, Little Sister. If you don't have any in yourself, use mine. I've got enough for both of us." I grinned at her, hugged her, and gave her a real kiss—a lover's kiss. She returned it, measure for measure.

"You're really good for me, Charlie. You really do believe in me, don't you?" she said when we broke. She was smiling, now.

"I do."

"Then I guess I have to, too."

"You'd better, or I'll have to spank you."

"Hmmm!" She smiled slyly. "I remember what happened last time you spanked me. Now I don't know if I want to believe or not!"

I smiled back at her, and released her from my arms. As we resumed our trip down the hall toward the outside door, I gave her a swat on the ass—I made sure that it stung a little.

"Bonehead!" she said, still smiling, and swatted me back. The moment of self-doubt had passed.

We walked on.

"Big Brother and Little Sister!" I recited.

"Best friends and lovers!" Her reply was joyful, enthusiastic.

"Now and always!" We squeezed each other as we sang it together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was still early afternoon when we'd finished finding her classrooms, and we had several hours to kill. We didn't want to return to my house, because we didn't care to get drafted into helping other folks move in. So we spent those hours exploring the campus and the parts of town surrounding it. I showed her where there was a little strip mall whose businesses included a drugstore, a hardware store, and a laundromat. We walked the three-quarter-mile distance from that mall to the town's main business district, where we found a coffee shop and sat awhile over coffee.

Once we'd gotten a few blocks from the campus, it was very unlikely that we would encounter people who might know us, or come to know us. We felt liberated—as though we could behave more like lovers than like siblings, and we enjoyed that. After our coffee, we started back. About halfway to the campus, we made a side trip to a town park, which centered on a little lake. I hadn't paid much attention to it before, but that day, with the woman I loved on my arm, it called to me.

A park bench caught our attention. It overlooked the water, and trees and bushes screened it from the path that circled the lake. We spent a couple of hours lounging on that bench—our bodies gently touching, my arm around her, her hand resting lovingly on my thigh. These were small intimacies, to be sure, but they were lovers' intimacies, and it would be dangerous for us to share them freely on the campus. After a week apart, we were hungry for the other's touch. It was almost as if each of us needed reassurance that the other was real.

It may sound as though we had a boring afternoon, but we didn't. It was a happy interlude that punctuated a week of transition between the lives we had shared at home and those we would share at college. We were delighted at being together again, at sharing our time with each other, at caressing each other with our voices, with our eyes, with our hands. There is no doubt that our sexual passion for each other underlay those caresses, for it is inconceivable that either of us would have behaved so with someone for whom we had no such passion. But sex was not, that afternoon, the point. We were taking our first steps toward learning that there are other ways than the sexual to express what we felt for each other, and that those ways are important, too

But all good things come to an end, and so it was with that late summer afternoon. There was, not far from the park, a Burger Chef—known on the campus as "Burger Cheapie," and our stomachs eventually drove us there late that afternoon for a burger-and-fries supper. We were early enough to miss most of the crowd from campus, but a few students were there for their suppers, too. Some of the faces were familiar, but I didn't know anyone.

After supper, we strolled back to my house. On the way, I showed her some important landmarks. About a block to our right as we stepped out of Burger Cheapie, and farther downtown from campus was Sarge's, a bar whose employees didn't much care about your age if they knew you—or if one of their established customers vouched for you. We turned left, toward campus, and without crossing the street began walking. Across the street from us, we soon passed the Kroger supermarket—the name always to be pronounced with a soft "g" (and spelled "K-r-o-j-e-r" when written out) because for six months the previous year the round body of the "g" in the lighted sign at the entrance to the parking lot had been burnt-out, converting that letter to a "j."

Shortly, on our side of the street, came the house known to everyone on the campus as "The Dog House" on account of an ill-tempered Doberman who lived behind a six-foot chain link fence and gave every passerby a good, sometimes frightening, piece of his mind. Across the street and a few blocks short of our destination, was Arlene's, the greasy spoon where we had eaten breakfast with Mom and Dad before going to the College President's address. Arlene was as famous for her excellent pies as she was infamous for her awful, greasy home-fried potatoes.

A block beyond Arlene's, and on our side of the street, was "The Bird House"—so called because the front yard sported, on a ten-foot pole, a large birdhouse that had been made and painted in the image of the house itself. Finally, on the other side of the street and about a block short of my house was a house with an unkempt yard. Known as "The Place," it had been unoccupied for a decade at least; and its overgrown shrubs had been well watered by many academic generations of men (and, no doubt, occasional women) who'd decided their bladders wouldn't make it home after an evening's hard work at Sarge's.

When we arrived at the house, I introduced my apartment-mate, George, to Mindy. Frank, and Earl Abbot—the other man who was going to live downstairs that year—were there, too. So I introduced them to her as well. I could see that all three of those men approved of Mindy's nice little body—confirming, once again, my own estimate of my good taste.

Earl constituted no immediate threat; he was engaged to a senior woman. George and Frank, on the other hand, were unattached. They couldn't drool over my little sister under the watchful eye of her big brother, because that would violate the Fundamental Code of Manly Behavior. But I could see that their salivary glands were active and that it was only because of great effort on their parts that nothing was escaping to run down their chins. Watching the two of them trying to upstage each other for her attention amounted to a comic sideshow—knowing as I did that neither of them had a snowball's chance in Hell.

After a bit, I noticed that Mindy had altered her behavior in response to the attention they were giving her. She held her shoulders back a little more than usual, making her boobs more prominent. (And I did not miss the fact that her nipples, having hardened, made themselves apparent through the opaque fabric of her shirt.) She paid rapt attention when either of them spoke. She laughed engagingly at all of their rotten jokes—including the ones that would've gotten me punched. And her movements had become a little slinkier than I was used to. Their antics had turned her on, and, in return, my little minx was stoking their fires! (Not to mention mine—as I watched all of this byplay, I was aware of some commotion in my Levis.)