Charlie and Mindy B. 03

This is the sixth 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

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

The alarm rang at five-thirty to get us up in time to catch our flight back to school. The clock was on the table on my side of the bed, and we'd rolled into our favorite spoon position during the night. So it was behind me, and in order to turn it off I had to untangle myself from my sister's naked, no-longer-sleeping, little body. I also turned on the light that stood beside the clock.

Immediately, I rolled back—to finish waking up. And as I did, I made sure that my morning wood slid back between Mindy's thighs. I vaguely recalled that it had been there when the clock went off. And that it had been happy there.

"I love to find you in my arms when I wake up," I mumbled drowsily into her ear. As I spoke, my hand found a tit, cupped it, and squeezed it gently.

"I like finding your boner where it is now when I wake up," she mumbled back. She wiggled a bit and clenched her ass-cheeks to punctuate her statement. "Mmmm. And I

really

like what your hand is doing to my boob." She wiggled some more.

I lay there, still half asleep, enjoying the bed's warmth and my little sister's soft warm femininity. We stretched against each other, each enjoying the feel of the other's body as consciousness returned. I heard familiar cooking noises from the kitchen, as Mom—who must've gotten up somewhat earlier—fixed our breakfast.

Mom!

I thought—briefly panicked that she would catch us.

And then I remembered. I wanted to discuss the events of the previous evening with Mindy, and I also wanted to make love with her. But we had a plane to catch, and there was no time, either for talking or for physical love.

But there was time for me to plant a big wet kiss on the back of her neck. I felt her quiver at the touch.

"I love you so much," she said softly. Mind-reading, then, as usual, she went on. "And I want to, too. But I think we have to get up now."

"I love you even more," I replied, also softly. Sound carried in our parents' house. "And I'm afraid you're right. And we have to face Mom."

Mindy was already rolling away from me. As she stood up, she gave me a 100-watt smile. "It'll be okay," she said. "She said she's cool about us touching each other a little. She really liked the way you held me and comforted me last night."

The smile brightened to 150 watts. "I liked it even more, Big Brother.

"She thinks she'll be okay if we behave around her pretty much the way married couples behave in public. Some touching, squeezing, and kissing are fine, but no groping and no tongue action."

"You're kidding," I said, as I rolled to the other side of the bed and got out. I was still having trouble believing that Mom was going to accept us as a couple.

"No, that's what she suggested last night. We can talk after she drops us off at the airport."

She looked directly at my boner, which still stood proud. She whispered, with more than a hint of longing, "I wish we had time to do something about

that.

"

My gaze traveled up and down her little body, missing nothing. I started around the bed toward her, evil thoughts in my mind. "Maybe—" I began.

She interrupted me in a stage whisper. "Oh, no you don't, Buster!"

In one quick motion, she scooped up her clothes from where she'd dropped them on the floor the night before, and then she scampered—just ahead of me—out the door.

I wanted to follow her, but knowing that Mom was up and about, I thought it was probably not a good idea to go running down the hall buck naked, my hard-on leading the way, as I chased my naked little sister. So I stopped at the door. When Mindy realized I wasn't following her, she turned around and grinned at me. I looked at her through the door; she was well out of reach. She blew a kiss to me, whispered, "Maybe tonight!" at me, and disappeared into the bathroom.

About twenty minutes later, well-showered, properly-groomed, and fully-clothed, we walked down the stairs together. As we did, I reflected on how little time it took to shower when only one body was involved—and how very boring it was.

I felt pretty awkward about facing Mom that morning. But there was no escaping it; I was going to have to do it. Nevertheless, I hesitated when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

Mindy would have none of it. She reached out and, grasping my hand, she pulled me closer, reached up, and gave me a peck on the lips.

She smiled up at me and whispered, "You've faced worse. She won't bite. She isn't a Doberman. Come on." And, without further ado, she stepped out for the kitchen—where Mom was putting bacon, eggs, and pancakes on the table. She didn't release my hand, so I could either step out beside her or I could make a scene. I stepped.

Mom looked up at us and smiled as we entered. And when she looked at me, her smile deepened. "Oh, Charlie," she said, "you're not in trouble. And you're definitely not a little boy anymore." I must've had apprehension written all over my face; I suppose I looked like a six-year-old boy who knows he's screwed up and expects to get his hide tanned.

She stepped over to me, took each of my upper arms into one of her hands, and pulled me down so that she could kiss my cheek. Hands still on my arms, she looked up at me. "If you're going to be grown up about the things you want to do, you have to try to be grown up about the things you don't want to do, too."

As always when I'm embarrassed, I had a snappy comeback ready. "Umm… Uhhh… Errr…"

"I see," she said, still smiling. "Being a grown-up does take some practice, and you haven't had as long to practice as I've had." She pulled me down and kissed me on the other cheek. "And the more difficult parts do take more practice."

She released me with a slight tug toward my seat at the table. "Sit down and have some breakfast while you think about it."

She turned to Mindy and hugged her. Mindy, younger than I but definitely more grown up at the moment, returned the hug. Whatever the unpleasant things they might have said to each other the evening before, it seemed they were water over the dam now.

Mindy and I sat down in our usual places. Mom poured coffee for all of us and sat down in her usual place. She looked at the two of us, smiling. There was a twinkle in her eye. "I hope," she said, "that you two

slept

well." The emphasis she'd put on the word "slept" was slight, but it was unmistakable—and it meant she wasn't talking about

sleep

at all.

My face must've betrayed me again; this was evidently a good morning not to be playing poker. She smiled an evil smile—worthy of Mindy—and said, "Don't look so surprised, Charlie. I'm not so old that I've forgotten what it's like to be young and in love. And even though I'm middle-aged, I'm in love, myself. But I'll try not to tease you any more—until you're awake, at least."

Mindy was sitting beside me; partially concealed by the table, her little hand reached over and squeezed my knee a couple of times. As I reached for the syrup for my pancakes, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Mom had picked up on Mindy's action and winked at her.

And, finally, it began to sink in. Mom had accepted the fact that her children had become each other's lovers. And if she harbored bad feelings about that, she wasn't going to let those feelings affect the way she treated us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The trip back to school wasn't quite as bad as the trip home had been. We had only a couple of hours on the ground at O'Hare, and we used a noticeable fraction of that getting from our arrival gate to our departure gate. The holiday travel season was mostly over, now that it was mid-January, so O'Hare lacked a few of the worst elements of a zoo and a few of those of an insane asylum.

We found enough privacy in the airports to talk about what we'd been through in the last 24 hours. Mindy, though, wouldn't tell me everything that had passed between her and Mom. All she would tell me was that they'd said things to each other that they didn't mean, that she and Mom were ashamed of themselves for saying them, that they'd agreed to forget them, and that they were better forgotten.

I had already known that women don't fight fair with men; now I gathered that women don't fight fair with each other, either.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was late afternoon, and the sun was already near the horizon, when we got back to the campus. The dorms were open, because everyone was expected back that evening—registration for the spring semester being the next day. We dropped off Mindy's suitcase at her dorm, and went to my apartment to drop off mine. We said "Howdy" to George, who was already back. Then we picked up the red pack, and, because the dorms weren't serving meals that evening, we went to Burger Cheapie for a quick supper. When we'd finished, it was almost dark.

It was fully dark outside by the time we reached the library. Classes were not in session, and, as always under those circumstances, the library was practically empty. So we had no trouble getting down to the second lower level unobserved, and then sneaking into the secured area with the red pack. And, once there, we enjoyed each other on our soft old quilt.

Afterward, we lay there, on one half of the old quilt, the other half thrown over us, naked together, still sharing our bodies. It now being rather late in the evening, we decided that we'd look the twins up the next day, after registration. We found that we very much wanted to see them—and not only because there were things we needed to discuss with them. We truly enjoyed their company, and we missed them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By some unimaginable oversight on the part of the powers that be, Mindy and I were scheduled to register for our spring courses at the same time—9:30 am on the middle Saturday of January. So I stopped by Bussey Hall a little after nine, to meet her.

She was waiting for me, and we walked to the gym (where registration took place) together—though separated from each other by the chaste two feet or so that people think appropriate for a brother and a sister. At least it was a miserably cold day, and even if we'd been able to put an arm around each other as we wanted to, our heavy coats would've made the contact only a tiny bit better than the space.

Most of the courses we wanted to enroll in for the spring semester were continuations of the courses we'd taken in the fall, and just about the only other people who wanted to enroll in those courses were the very same people who'd taken them with us during the fall. So spring enrollment went smoothly and our schedules didn't change very much.

My schedule didn't change at all—everything I signed up for (except for Phys. Ed., which doesn't really count) was a continuation. I did feel a slight pang of regret when I learned that Prof. Liddell wasn't teaching American History II, although it was scheduled for exactly the same time slot as American History I had been.

He had been the most challenging professor I'd ever taken a course from, and, in spite of myself, I'd miss the crackling precision of the pompous old bastard's dry voice. I'd miss the dreadful workload he imposed, too—much in the way I missed the restrictions I'd been placed under when I'd hit my head too hard back in November.

Mindy continued the courses she was taking and added an additional four-hour course, Spanish I, meeting from 1:00 to 1:50 every weekday except Wednesday. She'd done so because she was thinking she'd major in French—and French majors had to take four semesters of a some other foreign language.

The Spanish course brought her load up to nineteen credit hours. That's more of a load than most students can carry comfortably, and she'd needed to get permission from the Dean of Students to enroll in that heavy a load. But Mindy was very definitely not one of those "most students." Neither of us thought that she would have trouble—though we expected that she would be busier than she had been during the fall. Dean Stone looked at her grade report, agreed that she would be able to handle the load, and that was that. Once in a while, college administrators make good decisions.

Even though registration had been easy, it had taken us a couple of hours to work through all the red tape. When we were done, it was close enough to lunch-time that we simply headed for Krojer, got some sandwich fixings, and took them to my house.

George was at home, which was just as well. If he hadn't been, Mindy and I would've been tempted to tear each other's clothes off and do It. That would've been dangerous, because he'd enrolled earlier than we had and we couldn't even begin to guess when he'd be in or out of the house during the rest of the day.

As it was, we threw the sandwich stuff onto the kitchen counter and invited him to join us. Strictly speaking, neither George nor I still had teen-age appetites (he'd turned twenty in November), but there's little difference between a nineteen-year-old guy and a twenty-year-old guy when it comes to how much they eat. And Mindy's appetite, though female,

was

a teenage one. So we were all a bit surprised by the devastation we wreaked on what Mindy and I had thought was a fairly generous load of groceries.

We learned that George's schedule hadn't changed a lot either—except that this semester's physics course required two afternoons of lab instead of just one. He had also increased his load by adding a three-hour course, Introduction to Biochemistry, which met from ten to eleven on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. So Mindy and I would have even more time we could spend together in the apartment, "studying."

We knew that Buck and Steph were scheduled to register at one o'clock that afternoon, so Mindy and I just hung out around my apartment with George (who had nothing better to do, either) until a little after two. Then we headed out for the gym, hoping to catch them as they left.

We'd timed things fairly well. We'd waited only a few minutes at the exit when the two of them came out. They were as happy to see us as we were to see them. Buck and I shook hands while Mindy and Steph squeezed each other. Then Buck and Mindy squeezed each other while Steph and I squeezed. And, as I held her against me, I silently cursed the cold weather that put an additional two layers of clothing—heavy clothing—between me and Steph's ample rack. After the squeeze, I held her in my arms for a moment, looked down at her, and kissed her, gently and briefly, on the lips. "It's so good to see you again," she whispered after the kiss.

"Yes," I whispered back, "I'm glad to see you, too." And we broke our embrace to find that Buck and Mindy were breaking a similar embrace.

"We were going to see if we could find you guys," Buck said. "We want to have you over for dinner this evening. It'll be pretty simple—just spaghetti."

"We'd love to," Mindy said. "Can we do anything?"

"Well," Steph allowed, "we haven't done all of our grocery shopping yet, and we were going to go from here to Krojer. We still need salad fixings and some decent bread. We could all go, and then go to our place from there."

"Good idea," I said. "That way we can all spend the afternoon together."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By the time we'd made the grocery trip and gotten to the twin's place, it was a little after four. A wonderful aroma of spaghetti sauce permeated the little house. Steph had started it before they'd gone to registration. "It needs to simmer at least all afternoon," she said with a smile.

Buck got a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator and poured a glass for each of the women. Then he handed me a beer and got one for himself.

"You've got more foresight than me, Buck," I said. "I don't have any beer or wine in my refrigerator."

"We didn't leave town for the break," he said. "We don't really have anywhere to go."

"Shit," I said. "We didn't think about that. Mindy and I should've had the two of you come to Fort Collins with us."

"That's a very nice thought," Steph chimed in. "Thanks. But we'd probably not have wanted to spend the money on the plane tickets.

"And Steve and I had very nice Christmas and New Year holidays alone with each other. Didn't we, Steve-ster?" She sent him a smoking glance—it would've torn all of my clothes off if it had been directed at me.

Buck grinned. "Indeed we did," he admitted. "Indeed we did."

"Yes," I said, "I'll bet you did." I looked at Mindy who grinned at me, winked, and gave me the thumbs-up sign. I grinned, winked, and thumbs-upped back at her.

"What's that?" Steph asked, having caught our exchange.

And we had to explain how in a motel in Pinedale, Wyoming, the previous August, our noisy morning loving had enticed our neighbors into their own noisy loving, and how, on leaving, the man had winked at me, grinned, and given me the thumbs-up sign. Buck and Steph found it as amusing as we had—and I knew that they had added grin-wink-thumbs-up to their own collection of private signals.

"How do you keep yourselves so well stocked?" I asked. "You two aren't old enough to buy."

"Easy," said Buck. "There's a liquor store a couple of blocks east of College Avenue—just east of Krojer—where they don't ask for your card if they know you. They know me, so I'll take you there a few times and they'll get to know you, too."

College Avenue was the street that I lived on, and Krojer was only a few blocks south of me. This sounded good—I was tired of depending on Frank for my alcohol, and I'd been worried about how I'd get it during the coming fall—when I'd still be twenty and Frank, having been graduated, would be gone.

Steph looked at me and then said to Buck, "Why don't you take him now? He doesn't have anything to drink in his refrigerator, and we won't be ready to get serious about supper for an hour or so. And a couple of bottles of Chianti would be nice with the spaghetti."

"Only if you let me pay for the Chianti," I said.

"Deal!" said Buck.

"Deal!" I replied.

It took us about an hour to get to the liquor store, carry a case of beer and several bottles of wine to my house, and then get the Chianti back to Buck and Steph's house. When we arrived, we found that the women had made a major dent in their bottle of wine and were feeling no pain. They'd just gotten to work cutting up salad fixings.

"Uh-oh," Buck observed. "We're gonna have to work hard to catch up!"

"Fortunately," I added, "we're dedicated hard workers!"

"Fortunately!" Buck agreed—taking a bottle of red wine out of a cupboard over their refrigerator. "But if we're going to have wine with dinner, maybe we should switch from beer to wine now…"

"Good thinking," I said. "Don't want to mix too much beer with a bunch of wine."

As Buck opened the wine, I stepped up close behind Mindy where she was working at the kitchen counter. I put my arms around her little waist and pulled myself up close to her—bending my knees so that my cock, though soft, would fit into the cleft between her ass cheeks. As I delivered a hug while wiggling my package against her, she put down a radish and the knife she was slicing it with, and brought her hands up over her shoulders to pull my head closer. I gave her a big kiss on the back of her neck, and she hummed a little moan.