Charlie and Mindy B. 03

This is the third chapter of seven in Book 3 of the

Charlie and Mindy

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

This book stands on its own, but it refers to events that took place in Books 1 and 2. You may therefore want to read Book 1 and Book 2 before reading this book.

I value your comments and your feedback. I try to reply to comments.

—CarlusMagnus

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

Mindy woke up a little before I did, I think, around half-past eight. When consciousness arrived, I found myself on my back with my little sister's naked body pressed up against my side, her arm across my chest and her leg folded across my thighs. Her head was on my shoulders and she was moaning happy, gentle little hums. My morning hard-on was making an admirable, but inadequate, effort to tent the two hefty quilts that covered us.

I must've stirred and let her know that I'd come back to life, because she said, softly, "Good morning, best big brother in the whole wide world!"

I made some waking-up noises and muttered, somewhat fuzzily, "Well, maybe the second-best. Surely some other little sister somewhere in the world has a better big brother than I am."

"Not possible, Mr. Modesty."

A little wider awake, now, I replied, "I forgot to say that she doesn't deserve that better big brother. You deserve him."

She hummed another little moan. "Flattery will get you somewhere, you big dope." Her left hand sought my boner. It was right where it usually is, and she found it without difficulty. "And speaking of big dopes…"

"Watch who you're insulting, woman! My favorite dong has an IQ of at least 16."

"It's my favorite dong, too, but I think an IQ of 16 puts it in the 'idiot' category." She'd grasped it and had started stroking it gently but firmly.

"Only for people. It's the genius category for dongs," I said. "But if you keep that up, you'll have it in the 'fire hose' category—because I really need to go."

As always, morning hydraulics trumped morning sex. We scampered through the cold house (we'd turned the thermostat down, as always, before going to sleep the night before), she to the upstairs toilet, me to the one downstairs. I turned the heat up on my way back, and, as on the two previous mornings, I found her waiting for me in the still warm bed.

"I'll bet," she said as I climbed back into bed beside her, "that you wouldn't turn the damn heat down so damn low if you had to sit on that cold damn toilet seat every damn morning!" She punctuated it with a shiver.

"When we have our own house," I promised, "we'll have a fur-lined toilet seat for you to sit my favorite ass on when the house is cold."

She was somewhat mollified. "Well…maybe…"

"Trouble with fur toilet seats is that they won't stay up when a guy's peeing. They fall down and get wet. And make a God-awful clatter."

I'd lain down on my back again when I'd gotten back in bed, and she'd rolled over onto her side up against me—so we were again in the same position we'd been in when I'd awakened. And her hand had again found my cock—was stroking it into full hardness as we talked.

"Just like a guy. More worried about the clatter than the peed-on fur. You probably won't be the one who sits on it and finds it."

"You're good at sitting on things and finding them. Want to sit on me and see what you can find?"

"All in good time, Buster." She was grouchy this morning. She'd drunk quite a bit—for her—the evening before, and maybe she was a little hung over. "We were talking about how guys pee on furry toilet seats."

"When we have a furry toilet seat, we'll find a way to latch it up so it won't fall down while I'm peeing. I promise." I stroked her back, running fingers up and down her spine and scratching lightly.

"A likely story. You're just trying to distract me so that you can get that thing you pee with into me."

But she was still pumping "that thing." I extended my downward stroke beyond the small of her back to the top of the cleft of her ass—and tickled her there.

She shivered against me. "Oooo! You're giving me goose-bumps!"

I reached up and, taking her chin in my fingers, brought her lips to mine. She wasn't too grumpy for a long, deep kiss. I continued to tickle her lightly right where the division between her ass cheeks began. She continued to stroke up and down my cock—gently, slowly, deliberately.

The kiss ended, and I rolled her over onto her back as I turned toward her. My lips moved to her nipple while I cupped her other tit. I nibbled the one nipple while I tweaked the other.

She moaned and thrust her chest forward, pushing her nipple into my mouth. She was still holding my cock, but she'd lost some of her concentration and her stroking had turned a little bit erratic. She reached under me and up to stroke my spine with her other hand.

"You sure do know how to turn a girl on," she moaned, "even if you do pee on furry toilet seats. Maybe just because you can!"

Releasing her nipple, I said, "We all have some bad habits, and putting the thing I pee with into you is one of mine."

I rolled the rest of the way over onto her, taking my weight on my elbows. Her thighs parted for me, and she shifted her grip to guide my cock into her tight wet heat.

As I slid home, she looked up at me, smiling, now. She hummed a little moan as we lay there, connected, but not yet moving. "Well, I think it's one of your best bad habits. It might even be a

good

habit." She wrapped her legs around my thighs, pulled me deep.

She contracted around my cock, which throbbed and pulsed in response. Her smile deepened. "I love to feel it do that inside me."

I kissed her. The kiss deepened and lengthened, and our tongues tried to wrap themselves around each other. Then, suddenly, we were moving—our hips thrusting, pumping, pushing, pulling, as Nature had her way with us.

When we had satisfied our lust and had recovered our wits, I rolled over onto my back. She came with me until she again lay on her side against me, her head on my shoulder, an arm and a leg thrown across me, and her shoulder slotted into my armpit.

"How did I get the world's best lover?" I asked.

"How did

I

get the world's best one?" she responded.

We lay there a while, our naked bodies in close contact with each other. Desire now spent, we could enjoy the touch for its own sake, and not just for the lust it aroused in us. My hand, I found, was again stroking her spine, while hers caressed my chest.

After a bit, I spoke. "What do you think of Steph and Buck?"

"I think," she replied, "that we've made a good beginning with them. I like them a lot, and I hope we can work out a good relationship with them in the future."

"I like them, too," I offered. And then I went on, "And I could see that you liked Buck quite a bit by the way you two said 'Good-night' to each other."

"It seemed right," she replied. "I do like him. I couldn't help but notice that you and Steph seemed to…ummm…get along well, too." She snuggled in closer as she spoke, and then she continued. "You know, a week or two ago, the thought of you squeezing and kissing another woman like that might've gotten my dander up. But last night I thought the two of you were doing something good."

"It seemed right to me, too," I said. "And it surprised me that I was glad to see you giving Buck the same kind of treatment Steph was giving me."

She raised her head to look me in the eyes as she said, "Charlie, please believe me that Buck isn't any competition for you. I want him to be our good friend, and I did enjoy squeezing him and kissing him. But you're still my lover. No one will ever replace you."

I reached to stroke her cheek. "I always believe you, Mindy, and I believe you now. What's more, you didn't have to tell me; I already knew. And I'm sure that you know that Steph will never compete with you for my love."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We did meet Buck and Steph at their house that evening. As we left their place for Arlene's, Steph grinned and pointed at the front window of their house. "You two voyeurs will be unhappy about it, but we got some new,

thick

drapes for that window!"

"Awww, shucks!" I muttered—but made sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Mindy and I were going to make our fortunes selling tickets."

Mindy elbowed me.

Buck chimed in. "Hey—that's not a bad idea. Maybe we could install a little motor that opens the drapes when you push a button out here somewhere. We'll split the revenue with you—70 to 30."

Steph gave him an elbow.

"Who gets the 70, and who gets the 30?" I asked.

"Well, we'll be the ones on stage, so we'll get the 70," he replied.

"Not 70 percent of the revenue," I complained. "We'll have to bear the costs of ticket production and distribution. Not to mention renting chairs and paying the ticket-takers and the ushers."

The girls were groaning and rolling their eyes now. "Okay, you two," Mindy grumped. "Enough, already!"

"More than enough," Steph added.

Buck and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders, and the four of us trooped off to Arlene's. The home fries were as greasy as ever, the pies as good as always.

Afterward, the four of us spent a few hours at Sarge's. Buck and Steph hadn't been there before, but the bartender knew Mindy and me, so there was no trouble about IDs. Most students were out of town for the break, so the place was nearly empty. We pretty much had our pick of the tables, and we took a booth toward the back of the barroom.

We were well into the second pitcher when Steph said, "You know, it might be a good idea for the four of us to be seen together on a regular basis—especially if we make it look like Steve is with Mindy and I'm with Charlie. I think that people might be wondering a little bit about how close Steve and I seem, and why neither of us is ever seen with anyone else."

"Well," I said, and I dove into an explanation of "Rod Hancock" at the University of Florida—the fictitious "boyfriend back home" we'd invented so that Mindy could evade guys who wanted to date her.

"That was a good idea," Buck allowed. "I wish we'd thought of something similar last year. But it doesn't explain why Charlie never pays any attention to women. Sooner or later, someone will notice."

"Oh!" piped up Mindy, wicked smile in place. "I thought you guys knew—my big brother's gay."

She was sitting at my left, her right hand on her beer mug. The elbow shot was open, and I took it—I made it hard enough that she couldn't overlook it, but not hard enough to do damage. "You'll

pay

for that, woman!" I said. "I'll be spending the rest of the night with my boyfriend." I pursed my lips and made kissing motions with them across the table in Buck's general direction.

He made similar motions back at me, raised a hand and waved it—limp-wristed—at me. "Well, that'th thertainly another opthen," he said in a tolerably good imitation of a lisping and very effeminate male.

Steph almost choked on the beer she'd been about to swallow, but she recovered quickly and looked at Mindy. "I guess that leaves you and me without partners, hon," she said to Mindy. "Lez be friends!"

I made the mistake of putting my left arm up on the table in front of me as I laughed at Steph's pun, and, seeing her opportunity, Mindy returned the elbow in the ribs. She didn't have the reservations I had about being rough, and it was a good shot—repaying me in spades for my earlier dig.

All of us were laughing, now, even if my laughter was a bit rueful.

When the laughter died out, Mindy said, "Steph, I like that idea. It—"

"I thought you would, Hon. My place? Later?" Steph interrupted. And she repeated my kiss-kiss gesture, aiming it at Mindy.

More laughter erupted at the way Mindy was now hoist with her own petard. And the thought of Steph—who so obviously enjoyed the company of men—being a lesbian added to the joke.

"No—not the 'lez be' one," Mindy said, somewhat red-faced now, "but the one about the four of us. It'll be a lot easier than trying to maintain a fiction about a guy who's away in school in Florida but expects me to be faithful to him.

"Other guys will think that I'm seeing Buck, and maybe they'll leave me alone." She looked Buck up and down, at least insofar as the table that separated us from them allowed, and went on, "Buck isn't nearly as hot as Rod, but I think I can pretend that he turns me on."

Buck, who was sitting at the outside edge of the table on their side, swung his legs out from under the table. He bent over and began to roll up the right leg of the Levis he was wearing. "God!" he said. "It's getting deep in here!"

I held my nose. "Stinky, too!" I said. And I had to intercept another elbow aimed at my ribs.

But we all agreed that Steph's idea was a good one. We talked it over for a while.

We should build up to it, we decided, by being seen together over the next few weeks, as a foursome among whose members there seemed to be little or no romantic interest. We agreed that it would be natural. There were, after all, very few brother-sister pairs amongst the student body and people would hardly be surprised that two such pairs might spend time together. And if two compatible brother-sister pairs spent time together, it might very well turn out that each brother would take an interest in the other's sister—and that each sister would return the interest.

We moved on, then, to another pitcher and to other things, leaving behind the special problems our unusual situations caused us. By the end of the evening, we found ourselves enjoying each other's company just as company.

When Mindy and I parted from them at their door that night, Steph again stepped up close to me, smiling, and making it clear that she fully expected me to take her into my arms and kiss her again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw—was, in fact, glad to see—that Buck was taking Mindy into his arms. I did take Steph into my arms to kiss her, enjoying the feel of her arms resting on my own, of her sturdy body against me. Her lips, slightly parted this time, met mine. Mine parted a bit in response, but we engaged in no tongue action.

The kiss ended, and we lingered a moment in each other's arms, each looking into the other's eyes. My cock had again responded to her femininity; it pressed, half hard, against her lower belly.

She smiled at me and murmured, "Steve and I are so glad that we've found you and Mindy. We've felt so…alone, until now."

"We're glad to have found you two," I said, smiling back. Her smile, the taste of her lips still lingering on my own lips, the curves of her body pressing against my own, and the light, female scents of her hair and her skin were having their effect; my cock was now rock-hard against her.

We separated, then, and as we did, she gave her hips what seemed an accidental little flick—stroking my boner with her belly as she did so. Slightly startled, I looked again into her eyes, and saw the dirty little grin on her face. That grin confirmed that it had been no accident—that she'd known exactly what she was doing, and that it had been exactly what she'd meant to do. Her body was no longer pressed against mine, so she didn't feel the surge her grin had caused in my pants.

"I'm leaving you with something for Mindy," she said naughtily—reaching up and giving me a quick peck on my lips. "I'm sure you'll see that she gets it."

Mindy and I left them, then, at their door and continued the last three blocks to my house. It took us about twenty minutes, because we stopped repeatedly to kiss and grope each other on the way. Buck, it seemed, had left her with something for me. My guess was that she had left Buck with something for Steph. And I hoped that I had left Steph with something for Buck.

Things were, indeed, getting curiouser and curiouser.

When we arrived at the house, I let us in, and we tossed our coats onto the old chair that sat beside the bottom of the staircase. We embraced, kissed briefly, and then climbed the stairs—arms around each other and holding each other close. She hadn't been limping noticeably that day, but as we went up in close contact with each other, I could tell that she was favoring her left leg.

"You're still limping a bit, aren't you, love?" I said.

"Yeah," she admitted. "It still bugs me a little, but I think it'll be gone in a few more days."

She looked at me and smiled. "I think, now, that it hurts you more than it hurts me."

I made my own admission: "You're probably right."

When we reached the top, I turned her toward me, put my arms around her, drew her close, and bent down to kiss her. She pressed her body against me, detected the boner in my pants, and wiggled shamelessly against it. She moaned her desire into my mouth as our tongues danced with each other.

As the kiss ended, I caressed her ear and her cheek. She placed her head against my chest and hummed her joy at my touch. Bringing my hand from her ear down the side of her neck, I found the top button of her shirt and undid it. But the closeness of our bodies kept me from working my way down to the second button.

She wiggled against my boner again and backed up a bit to look at me. A moderately evil grin spread across her face as, taking advantage of the new space between us, I found her second button. "That growth of yours is back," she said. "Your DSB must be acting up."

I ground my hips against her; she ground back. "I think it is," I replied. "Deadly Semen Backup is a monstrous affliction. But I believe that, fortunately, you have a semen extraction apparatus with you."

I kissed her again; she returned the kiss emphatically.

"Yes," she said, after the kiss. "We'll treat your DSB. And, I'll have to confess, my own SSDD threatens relapse."

"Severe Semen Deficiency Disease is serious, too," I pointed out. "We'll have to treat it immediately—if not sooner. And you're in luck tonight, because I happen to have a semen applicator with me. So I'm prepared to administer the cervical massage and deep protein injection that you need."

She looked up into my eyes and smiled. And, reaching for still another kiss and said, "Administer away, Doctor."

Our lips locked; I reached down behind her and cupped my little sister's ass cheeks, one in each hand. She took the hint, locked her arms behind my neck, and transferred her weight to them as I lifted her off of the floor. Her legs came up and wrapped around my hips—and she pulled her mound tightly against the bulge in my pants.

Slowly, engrossed in the kiss we were sharing, I stepped down the hall and into my bedroom with her wonderful little body wrapped around me. Once we were in the room, I turned without breaking our kiss. I bent down, placed the corner of her shoulder under the light switch, and straightened. The ceiling light accommodatingly turned on.

Our tongues were still playing with each other as I stepped over to her side of the bed and, bending forward, gently placed her on it. That freed my hands to stroke her, but she wouldn't relinquish the grasp of her legs on my hips, the clutch of her arms around my neck, or the sweet contact of our lips and tongues. When I'd run my hands up and down her sides several times, I surrendered; taking most of my weight on my elbows, I relaxed on top of her. She sank down into the mattress; our kiss continued into deep time.

A delicious eternity passed before she unlocked her arms from around my neck and stroked my sides. I continued the kiss for a while, and then, as her legs gave up their grip on my hips, I pulled gently away from her. I brought my hand up to her shirt buttons—now neglected for so long.