Charlie and Mindy B. 03

This is the fifth 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

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

Mom and Dad were home for all of the long New Year's weekend, so my little sister Mindy and I had to defer our first love-making of 1988 until the Monday morning after the holiday. I tried to tease her about the delay, but when I tried, she smiled slyly and called me "scullion." After she'd done that twice, I looked the word up. I tried a few more times, but she responded the same way—and once I knew that a scullion is "a servant assigned the most menial kitchen tasks," it wore out pretty quickly. She definitely won that round.

The following Saturday, the mailman delivered two real treats. My birthday being the very next day, I thought of both of them as birthday presents.

The first of those treats was our grades. Mindy and I had both gotten all

A'

s for the fall semester. I'd never done anything like that before, and I was ecstatic. (So ecstatic, in fact, that Mindy's "I told you so" look didn't faze me a bit.) Mom and Dad were so pleased that they took us out to a fancy restaurant that night for dinner to celebrate.

The second treat was the new catalog from the Mountain Odyssey Learning School. That catalog has always been full of wonderful photography of the wonderful places where the school conducts its courses. And foremost among those places is the Wind River Range, where Mindy and I had fallen in love with each other. I spent the afternoon with my little sister, poring over that year's collection of wilderness photos—not to mention the course descriptions.

The pictures in the MOLS catalogs are mostly taken by students in the field on their courses. The front of that year's catalog showed a picture of several students cooking on a gravel beach—probably somewhere on the coast of Alaska. In the background, some other students care for kayaks drawn up on the beach. Photos inside showed students hiking, skiing, camping, and rock-climbing, as well as traveling on glaciers, fording rushing mountain streams, building igloos, and doing Tyrolean traverses. And always, in the background, there is stunning wilderness scenery: mountains, meadows, cliffs, snowfields, glaciers, veldt.

On the back of the catalog was a quarter-page photo of a granite ridge in the distance—and a grassy meadow, liberally dotted with purple mountain asters, in the foreground. It was heartbreakingly familiar. I had never been in that particular location, but I knew instantly that the picture had been taken in the Wind River Mountains. I didn't need to read the caption—which confirmed what I'd known at first sight.

We couldn't contain ourselves at dinner. Mindy wanted, more than almost anything else, to take a MOLS course. Our parents had promised her that she could, but with a significant catch: Being the one who had introduced Mindy to the backcountry, and thus given her the notion of taking such a course, I had to bring home more

A'

s then

B'

s, and no lower grades, this year in school. I hadn't yet fulfilled my part of the bargain entirely, but we certainly thought I'd made a big step in the right direction. So we asked if Mindy could submit her application to take a course during the coming summer. Mom and Dad were so pleased with my grades that they just looked at each other, smiled, and nodded in unison.

Dad added, "The deal's still in place. You haven't completed your obligations yet, but you've certainly shown good faith. Go ahead and apply."

Mindy whooped with joy, jumped up from her seat at the table and made a tour of the table, squeezing each of the three of us in turn—Mom first, then Dad, and then me. (Mom and Dad were right there, watching, so I had to remember not to slip in a feel or go for a deep kiss.) Then she remembered that we were in a fancy restaurant. People were looking at us. Her face turned red, and the rest of us laughed at her embarrassment. But she couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the evening.

The following day was my twentieth birthday. There were some small birthday presents—one from each of the three other family members—waiting for me on the dining room table when I got up. They were nothing spectacular—our family had never been very extravagant about birthdays, though we always marked them.

Mindy and I spent most of that morning in the living room with the MOLS catalog, as she decided which course she wanted to take. In the end, she chose the one she'd thought at the very beginning she'd want—the Wind River Wilderness Course. It was the one I'd taken two-and-a-half years earlier, and the one I'd thought she'd pick.

Then she had to decide on her first, second, and third choices from among thirteen offerings of that particular course that coming summer. She settled, at last, on three that ran from dates in late June to dates in late July.

In a moment of privacy when Mom and Dad were in other parts of the house, she snuggled up against me, kissed me thoroughly (while rubbing her tits and her pussy against me), and whispered that my "real" birthday present would be a day late because we'd need to get naked in order for her to deliver it properly.

Eyes glinting, she added that my birthday present was going to include a reward for getting all

A

s. Naturally, I had an instant boner. Then we heard Mom coming toward the room; fortunately, she was far enough away for us to separate and my boner to wilt before she got there. Mindy wiped the smirk off of her face at the last possible second before Mom stepped into the room.

Mindy's MOLS application, together with a check—bearing Dad's signature—for the application fee, went out with the next day's mail.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That Monday, Dad left town for a business trip to Washington, DC. He was working on some legal matter that involved courts in several South American nations, and he needed to spend a couple of weeks conferring with Big Wigs and Important People in the State Department. He would be back home for the last week of January, but Mindy and I would be back in school a week earlier—so we wouldn't see him again during our break. Knowing that he would be leaving before we were up that morning, we said good-bye to him on Sunday evening.

He would go to Chile for a few weeks at the beginning of February, and from there to Bolivia, Peru, and Colombia. He anticipated that his business would be concluded in early March. Mom was going to join him then in Colombia, and the two of them would spend two or three weeks together seeing South America. They planned to be home by the beginning of our spring break, in early April.

Mom took him to Stapleton Airport, in Denver, early that morning—around half-past five; then she went directly to work from there. They'd timed it so that she could get to work at the same time she would've otherwise.

Mindy slipped into my bed at about seven. I woke on my side to find my naked little sister backed up against me (and my morning wood). She'd pulled my arm around her and placed my hand on her boob. It could've been better—but only if she'd spent the whole night naked in my arms.

Groggily, I nibbled on her neck a bit, while kneading her tit. She moaned and wiggled her ass against my boner. Then she clenched her ass-cheeks around it—making it throb with happiness.

"Go do your morning pee," she said, "and think about how we're going to celebrate your birthday. Hurry back." I could hear the evil grin in her voice.

Still half asleep, but feeling pretty randy anyway, I climbed out of bed, clumsily shed my shorts and T-shirt, stumbled into the bathroom, and obeyed orders. I paid particular attention to the instruction she'd given me about hurrying back. We hadn't made love since the preceding Friday—three days earlier, and when I got back to my room my cock had stiffened again and led the way.

I found her curled up under the covers, still lying on her side and facing the door—watching for me—when I reentered the room. She was still a bit sleepy herself; her hair was tousled, and her eyelids drooped a bit. But the smile she gave me was real, and so was the look of frank desire that she gave my rod.

Mom and Dad, too, turned the heat down at night—though they had a thermostat that handled it automatically. Left to itself, that thermostat would've kept the house chilly until just before they were to get home for work. Mindy had turned it up before she'd crawled into my bed, but the house was still chilly.

I slipped into the welcome warmth of the bed, and I took her even more welcome naked warmth into my arms. Still a bit dazed, I pulled her gently against me and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around me and—a bit fuzzily herself—returned the kiss. The smell of her own warm bed—quintessentially feminine—lingered on her skin and mingled with the smell of mine. My cock throbbed and pulsed where it had come to rest between our bodies. At least somebody was awake.

She broke the kiss, and brought her hand up, out from under the covers, to stroke my cheek, where she rasped against the stubble of my beard.

"I love you so, Big Brother," she said, pushing me over onto my back and rolling on top of me. My prong took the opportunity to slide between her thighs and stroke along her furrow as she straddled me.

"I love you back so, Little Sister," I mumbled—I was having a good bit of trouble waking up that morning. Fuzzily, I understood that she was going to do something about that—something I'd enjoy very much.

"I've come to deliver your birthday present—the real one," she said. "But I'm afraid it may not be what you thought it would be."

"Hunh?" My hands caressed the soft curves of her hips and thighs. She'd placed her hands to either side of my chest, and, taking the weight of her upper body on her arms, she'd raised her head to look down into my eyes. Once again, I marveled at their deep blueness.

"My period started yesterday, so we can't do it that way."

"Well, I'm glad it started," I said. Babies were definitely not in our plans for the immediate future.

"Me, too," she said. "But it's a real bummer that I can't give you the birthday present I want to."

"I think we'll survive," I said.

""So I've thought of something else," she went on. She lowered her head so that her lips reached under my chin and connected with my neck. Slowly she rose to her hands and knees and backed up, nibbling and kissing her way downward from my neck, passing down the middle of my chest and over my stomach. The bed covers moved with her, but we were generating enough heat of our own that I barely noticed the chill in the room. Her tongue swirled around in my bellybutton, and she raised her head and looked up at me.

My boner pressed against her chest, right between her lovely little titties. Rising a bit, she took it into her right hand and stroked it several times. She smiled up at me and said, "Just lie here, lover. I want to work on you with my mouth for a while, and then, when you're almost ready to come, I'm going to sit on you and finish you with my ass."

My cock jumped and pulsed at that, and she chuckled.

"Somebody's happy," she said. "And he makes me happy when he does that."

Before I could respond, she lowered her head and guided my crown into her mouth. The heat and moisture of her softly clasping lips and the gentle action of her swirling tongue were breathtaking. It seemed as though the rest of my body surrendered so that every bit of vitality I possessed could flow into my cock—causing it to grow and harden even more.

Slowly, she took my full length into her loving mouth. I throbbed and pulsed inside her and heard her moan in response as her lips reached the very root of my shaft. From somewhere, my hips found the strength they needed to buck involuntarily in answer to the inexpressible sensations she brought me.

I heard her choke a little as my hips drove me a bit too deep into her throat, but that happened only once, at the very first, and it didn't keep her from carrying out her promise to work on me with her mouth for a while. Her head bobbed up and down, in perfect opposition to the motions of my hips. My cock slid in and out, in and out, and her head continued, up and down, up and down. My hands reached down, took her head between them, kept time with her motion, guiding her, seeking my release.

Sensing the storm gathering within me, she slowed, changed her rhythm, and began moving her head in synchrony with me—rising as I rose, descending as I descended. Still I came closer and closer. Not being ready to let me come, she removed her mouth and brought it to the inside of my left thigh. Baring her teeth, she nipped me slightly. The surprise and the slight pain fended off the crisis.

"Not yet, Buster," she said. I looked down and saw her smiling at me past my pulsing cock from the valley between my thighs. She nibbled a bit on my balls, and, when my cock had stopped surging, she took it again into her mouth. Slowly, gently, she brought me almost to the brink again.

When she had me almost there, she removed her mouth again. Still on her hands and knees above me, she brought her body up against mine. She caressed my cheek again as her lips sought mine for a long, deep, loving kiss.

When she broke that kiss, she retreated a few inches—just far enough that we could focus our eyes on each other

"I'm so glad I'm in love with you," she whispered to me. "And now I'm going to finish you off the way I promised—with my tight little tushy."

My cock liked that idea, surged in agreement. But before I could say anything, she threw the covers all the way back, raised herself off of me, and reached down over the side of the bed to my right to pick up the towel and the lube she'd hidden there before she'd gotten into bed with me.

The jelly was cold, as always, and it brought me a little further back from the precipice her mouth had brought me dangerously close to.

Facing me, she straddled me again, placing her crotch right above my straining cock, and applied some of the lube to herself. She bent over and kissed me again, lovingly, lingeringly. While we kissed, my hands stroked up along her sides, starting at her hips, moved up to her armpits, reached finally inward to cup her little tits and tweak her nipples a bit.

She moaned into my mouth.

Still on her knees, she brought her upper body to the vertical and rested her left hand on her own left leg. My eyes rested on her little boobs—the perfect little boobs I adored so much—as she reached down between her thighs with her right hand. She found my now slippery cock, grasped it firmly, and guided my crown to her rear entrance as she lowered her body. My own hands found the gentle swell of her hips and rested there.

As usual, her body resisted at first—involuntarily, I suppose. But she brought more of her weight to bear, and, suddenly, the head of my cock popped into her. She brought a hand up from between her thighs to rest on her leg, and she arrested her downward motion to let her aperture adjust. We moaned at the feelings her tight muscular ring brought us. Her eyes, I could see, were now closed, but there was a faint smile on her lips.

I shifted my glance downward from her face, traveling toward where our bodies were now joined. My eyes passed slowly over her body, enjoying the view. They encountered first the little tits I so much loved to look at and touch. Next came her tiny, flat waist, whose narrowness accentuated the roundness of her boobs and the curvature of her hips. Then, I saw the little brown, downward-pointing triangle of her fur and followed its direction on to her mound. There below her furrow, I could see where my cock entered her body, its head embedded in her.

My cock wanted to move—wanted to feel the clasping band of her sphincter slide up and down its length. But, even though we had done this a number of times before and I knew she enjoyed it, I still had a residue of fear that I would cause her pain—possibly even injure her—if I moved too quickly or too forcefully before she was ready. So I stroked her hips and her thighs and I brought my eyes back up to her face as I waited for her.

After fifteen or twenty seconds, she opened her eyes. Her hands came up to her chest, where they cupped her tits and kneaded them. She saw that I was looking at her, and the faint smile deepened. I felt myself sinking into the deep blue pools of her eyes.

"You always feels so big right after we put you in me there," she whispered. "But I love to feel you in me—anywhere."

She lowered her body, sliding my cock deep into herself, until I could feel her pussy against my pubic bone and her buttocks against my thighs. She alternately contracted and relaxed the muscles that gripped me.

"Oh, God! That feels so good!" I breathed. Her sphincter was now wrapped tightly around the base of my cock. She rested there a while, looking deeply into my eyes, smiling broadly, holding my throbbing cock deep within herself, now squeezing it, now relaxing.

"This," she pointed out, her smile deepening even more, "is what happens to my lovers who get all

A'

s."

"If only I'd known," I managed to mumble, "I'd have been getting all

A'

s ever since I was five."

She bent down and kissed me; it was just a quick peck. "You weren't my lover then—so it wouldn't have done you any good."

With what remained of my concentration, I replied. "I'm glad to know that. It means I didn't waste any opportunities."

My hips, which had decided to take my cock's orders rather than mine, bucked me even more deeply into her, and her hips replied. So did her sphincter—which squeezed me some more.

I could think only of the way her body moved up and down, up and down, driving my slippery shaft in and out, in and out—her taut ring sliding along my length, stroking me, squeezing me, drawing me closer and closer to zenith.

Apocalypse came upon me, and my semen gushed, burning, through the length of my cock and into her body. Again, again, again. My body strained to bury every bit of my pulsing, surging cock deep inside of her, and she responded by driving herself down on me with all of her weight in answer to my desperate need. She clamped her sphincter around me, intensifying my spasms almost beyond bearing. Vaguely, I heard her cooing to me, "Come for me, Birthday Boy! Fill me with your cum! I love you so much! I want your cum in me so much!"

And then it was over, and I lay there on the bed under her, drained and nearly unconscious. Dimly, I felt her little hands, stroking my sides and my belly, gently massaging my relaxed flesh. Her sphincter continued to contract and relax, contract and relax, around my still-stiff shaft, holding it prisoner—but not, by any stretch of the imagination, against its will. I felt it responding, though weakly, to those powerful compressions.

At length, I recovered and opened my eyes. I didn't remember closing them, but it seemed that I had. She sat there on me, my cock still in her, smiling at me as though she was the Cheshire cat and had just eaten several Cheshire canaries.

"I think," she offered, "that you liked your birthday present."

"God, yes!" I said. "I'm twenty, now, but I don't think I'd live to be thirty if my birthdays weren't a full year apart!"