Chelsea Rising

Author's note.

To understand this story, particularly the relationship between Chelsea and her older brother William, you should really read Chapter 1 first. It won't take long and it 'sets the scene', so to speak.

The usual obligatory statements. Firstly, please recognise that this is a complete act of fiction and that the characters within it therefore bear no resemblance to actual persons, living or dead. Also, please note that an act of fiction is exactly that - viz: a figment of my imagination - so please don't break my balls if you don't think that people would act that way or if you think it is unrealistic.

Finally, of course everyone is over the age of 18....

Enjoy!

*****

Chelsea was still asleep when I awoke. A shaft of sunlight crept into the room from a chink in the curtains, falling on her hair as she slept - a glorious butter yellow shot through with iridescent strands of spun gold. She was breathing lightly, her lips slightly apart so that I could see the white of her teeth, and she had pushed the covers down so that one breast was exposed, the skin a lighter creamy colour against the darker tan of her arms and shoulders. Her face was relaxed in sleep and she looked young and vulnerable.

I lay for a while, not wanting to move - content to stay there as long as I could, just to look at her. This time yesterday she had been just my sister: a person with whom I had grown up. The blood that flowed in her veins was mine, and her DNA was stamped with the same genetic blueprint as my own. We had shared a childhood: fought and played, squabbled and forgiven, laughed and cried. We had grown up together, moving from innocence to awareness, adolescence to adulthood. We had rejoiced at each other's achievements and suffered their failures, and we supported each other in the way that siblings do - two separate souls joined only by the common bond of family.

Now, in just a few hours, all that had changed. She was my sister

and

my lover and she was asleep beside me, naked, her lips swollen from my kisses and my seed inside her body. I watched her softly breathing, and I realised that nothing could ever be the same again.

After a while she stirred, stretching her limbs as she emerged from sleep, and her eyes opened, a soft grey like the early morning sun on open water.

I reached over and touched her face softly, brushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes.

"Good morning."

She smiled. "'morning. What time is it?"

"Nearly eight. Did you sleep well?"

She thought about it, stretching her arms again and then snuggling back down into the bed, still smiling at me. "Not really. Some pervert wanted to fuck me all night."

"That's disgraceful."

"Four times!"

"Amazing. He must have great stamina."

"Every time I tried to sleep he was there."

"It was probably your fault."

She laughed. "Me! How do you figure that? I just lay there and thought of King and Country."

"You must have wriggled a bit and showed your tits."

She looked down at them. "So its their fault."

"Accessories to the fact only. There's a feline mastermind in the bed."

"You're not talking about my pussy, are you?"

"Absolutely."

"I think it's drowned."

I laughed. "Drowned?"

She held open the sheet and looked down at herself. "Well, drowned internally. I'm pretty full."

"Well, that's an amazing coincidence - I'm empty."

"Really?"

I looked at her. She was still holding the sheet open and I could see the fine golden hairs on her pudenda and the crease of her vulva below it. My cock stirred. "Well... perhaps not that empty -"

She lifted the sheet higher so that she could see me harden, my cock stretching and filling, the foreskin rolling back. "You're insatiable."

I reached over and cupped her breast, my thumb rolling over her nipple, feeling it swell in sympathy with my cock. "And you are irresistible."

"I'll be irresponsible if I don't go to the loo." She reached down and wrapped her fingers around me, squeezing the shaft. "Tell him to hold that pose," she said. "I'll be back."

She hurried back and snuggled down beside me. "Are you ready?"

"Absolutely. Fully recharged. Another quart cumming up."

She groaned at the pun. "I'm not sure I can find room for it." She rolled onto her side, facing away from me and she drew her knees up to her chest. "But let's give it a go. Put it in me."

I spooned up behind her and nudged the head of my cock against her, feeling initial resistance as I pushed: then the soft warm surrender as her vulva opened and I sank into her body.

She groaned, her back arching a little as I filled her. "Oh....Jesus, that's good."

"Better than last night?"

"As good as last night. It's all good." She reached behind her and grasped my hip, arresting my thrusts. "Keep still for a moment."

I stopped moving, my cock deep inside her. She worked her vaginal muscles, a rhythmic grip that squeezed and released my shaft. "Can you feel that?"

"Some."

"I'll work on it. One day I'll milk you dry without you moving."

"How long will that take?"

"About a month."

I chuckled. "I think we'd starve."

She began to move her torso, sliding back and forward on me, and I picked up the rhythm so that my shaft was sliding into her smoothly, her labia clasping at me as we fucked. I pulled the sheet down so I could watch.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking. I like to see myself going in."

"Nice. Tell me what you see."

I grasped her buttock and lifted it slightly to fully expose her where we were joined. My shaft glistened as it slid in and out of her, shining with her juices. "I can see your pussy being fucked."

"Tell me."

I pulled back so that the head of my cock appeared, just the tip engaged inside her. "I can see my cock - its just inside you....your lips are touching it, covering the end -"

"Is it wet?"

"Yeah. Not so much that it is trickling out of you, but there's enough." I pushed in a little. "Can you feel that? The head is inside. Your lips have closed over it, just under the rim, gripping me." I pushed slowly, describing how the shaft slid into her until the thick stem was up against her vulva, her perineum bulging out slightly to accommodate me. "When I push into you your anus moves."

"How?"

"It's forced out and back a little, like there's something inside you pushing it."

"There is....touch me there."

I gathered some of her juice on the ball of my thumb and held it lightly over the crinkled opening. I could feel it moving as I pumped into her, nibbling and sucking at me like a little mouth. I applied pressure and my thumb slid into her. She crimped tightly, her sphincter squeezing tightly like a rubber band, holding me embedded in her bowels.

She groaned. "Ooh, that's good....just hold it there... God, I'm full of you. Ugh! Fuck me faster now...can you come like this?"

"Yes."

"Do it. I want to feel you spurt into me."

And so I did. She was curled in a little ball, hunched over so I could see the outline of her spine under the glossy brown skin, the curve of her waist flowing through to the sensuous swell of her buttocks. She was making little whimpering noises as I fucked her, the glossy mane of hair swaying a little with each stroke. I released my thumb from her ass and held her buttocks apart with my hand, watching as I pistoned into her with long glorious strokes. She was much wetter now and our friction had produced a light creamy froth that bubbled a little with each thrust, and I could see the crimped opening of her ass, pouting a little from its violation, pulsing as I pushed into her.

The tight spiral of my orgasm rushed upon me, spinning in my brain, shutting out everything except the clasp of her cunt on my shaft. She sensed that I was close and clamped her vaginal muscles to increase the friction and she undulated her hips, drawing me into her deeper, sucking at me like a pump until, with a hoarse cry of pain I erupted into her again. My seed burst from the end of my cock and splattered into her body, spraying the wet walls of her cunt, dribbling and dripping inside her. She moaned as she felt its warmth, her voice filled with wonder at the sensation.

"Christ, Ben! I can feel it, inside me. It's boiling...so hot," and she milked me, murmuring softly as she gyrated her hips, her hungry cunt gripping me in a smooth, muscular action as it vacuumed the steaming sperm out of my jerking, pulsating balls.

Afterwards we lay on our backs, side by side, the sweat cooling our skin. At length I pushed myself up and looked down at her. Her vulva was still open and I could see a trickle of my cum at its entrance, thick and white.

"I can see myself tricking out of you."

She laughed. "I guess I really am full." She raised her legs, knees bent upwards towards her breasts, and she supported her back with her arms so that her torso was angled. "How's that?"

"As cream pies go, it's a good one."

She laughed again and a gob of my sperm was ejected, trickling over her. She released her arms and sank back to the bed. "You prick! Don't make me laugh - get me a tissue." I watched as she mopped up the mess, and she looked at the soaking tissue. "What a waste."

"Plenty more where that came from."

She turned her eyes on me and looked. She said nothing, but for the first time I read regret in her expression.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Ben - you know we can't do this at home."

"Well, not all the time -"

"No. Not at home. Mum will find out sooner or later and it will destroy her."

"We can go out - find places. Motels -"

"I don't want this to be sleezy. I don't want to sneak around living a lie every day."

"I know, Chelsea. But we'll work it out."

She looked at me again. That same expression...the laughter gone, a tinge of sadness. "Perhaps," she said softly. "We'll see. Whatever happens, remember that I want you."

She'd said 'want' not 'need', but it was a start.

*****

And so we settled into a routine, back at home, back at work. It was difficult with Mum and Dad around, as they worked flexible hours and most of the time one or other of them was at home. Chelsea was desperately worried about them finding out.

"It's not just the risk if we have sex," she said to me one morning, in the few minutes we had alone before we headed off to work. "It's the whole body language thing, Ben. I'm sure Mum knows something is happening between us."

"In what way?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. You know what she's like - really slow to pick up on some things and razor sharp on others. I guess its intuition. She asked me the other day how come I was getting on so well with you after years of squabbling."

"What did you say?"

"That we'd realised during the holiday that we had more in common than not, and enjoyed each other's company." She smiled. "I didn't tell her how much we enjoy each other."

"And what did she say?"

"It was really odd. She said 'Ben's a nice boy but don't spend too much time with him...find a man to settle down with'...something like that, anyway. Perhaps she's figured out you're a pervert rather than a real man."

I laughed. "She's more concerned about you being flighty. During the holiday she said pretty much the same thing to me...that you needed to settle down with a nice young man. I stirred her up a little by telling her I'd heard you throwing up every morning and you were probably pregnant to that Greek guy."

"You didn't!!"

"I did - it really had her going for a while but I couldn't keep a straight face and she twigged. She told me off, and then said that I should keep an eye on you so that you didn't get preggers."

Chelsea shook her head. "Poor Mum! I guess she didn't know that I'm far more likely to get knocked up by you than by anyone else."

I gave her a hard look. "Anyone else? Are you -"

She cut me off. "Don't start that, Ben - jealousy doesn't suit you." Her voice softened. "You're pretty safe....for some reason I really like you....hey, come on." She squeezed my arm. "I'm not seeing anyone else Ben."

"OK."

She continued to look at me, her grey eyes steady. "Alright. How did we get onto that subject anyway? Look, I just wanted to say that we have to be really careful, Ben. Even a meaningful look between us can give away much more than we can afford."

"Alright."

"I mean it. No mooning around me, no loving glances, no footsies under the dining room table."

"What

can

we do?"

"Act like a brother and sister." She saw the expression on my face and sighed. "Ben, there will be a few opportunities, I'm sure. Just don't spoil everything in being too hasty." She glanced at her watch. "Anyway, I've gotta go. See you tonight." She leaned forward and kissed me, her lips soft and lingering. "Be good."

I watched as she picked up her car keys and walked out, so trim and smart in her business suit. I knew she was right, but it didn't stop the longing.

*****

She played the game so much better than I, setting a rigid set of rules that had me wondering if she really had gone off me. Whenever there were others around she would treat me as she had for most of our lives - with the disdainful tolerance of a sibling. I tried a few times to touch her surreptitiously under the table, or perhaps brush up against her when she was in the kitchen, but she just moved away.

Even if no one else was in the house she was circumspect. I might win a few kisses but as soon as I tried anything more she would stop me, and she would explain again as if to a small child. "Ben, we can't do this - they might come home at any moment."

"They might not, though."

"Better to be safe than sorry."

"How about we go upstairs, then? We could hear them...it would give us time to -"

"No! Once we start they could arrive with a Brass Band and we wouldn't notice."

"But I want you."

She reached up and touched my face. "I want you too, Ben. Just be patient. There will be times -."

"But when -"

"When I say. Now go and have a cold shower," and she would turn away, and I'd be left angry and frustrated.

Three weeks after the holidays I'd just about given up - or at least I would have done if I hadn't loved her so much. Even our brief time together was spent arguing about why she was so careful, and why she wouldn't relax a little. It came to a head one Friday.

It had been a difficult day at work and I was tired, and I came home to find Chelsea in the kitchen alone.

"Hey!" I went to give her a kiss but she twisted her head so that my lips pressed on her cheek and then she turned to walk away. I grasped her arm. "Wow...that sent a message. Do you want to try that again?"

"Not now, Ben."

"Well, now seems like a good time, Chelsea. We

are

on our own, and I'm not trying to drag you off to bed here. How about a decent kiss?" I pulled her towards me.

"I said no!" She snatched her arm away and glared at me, her little face set and angry.

I could feel my temper rising. "Why not?! Why aren't you interested any more?"

"Because I don't feel like it! Because I'm sick of you trying to get me to do things I don't want!"

My anger spilled out, white hot, driven by the weeks of frustration. "It's always what you want, Chelsea - what about what I want!? What is it with you? Why won't you -"

She laughed, a bitter sound without humour. "It doesn't matter what

I

want. It's all about you! You only think of one thing, and you can't seem to get it in your head that we can't do it here!"

"You weren't so particular on holiday!"

"That was on holiday, and it wasn't an invitation to try it on all the time!" She leaned in towards me, her eyes like steel chips. "I told you it would be different at home...which bit of

that

didn't you understand?"

"The bit where you turned into a cock teaser!"

She stepped back, pale with anger. "You bastard!"

"Well, you are. It's been three weeks, Chelsea, and now you can't even bring yourself to kiss me. What the fuck's going on!?"

"Nothing!! Can't you understand that either?! There's nothing going on and nothing

will

go on at home. Why does it have to be a dick thing?"

"It's not! It's about showing each other that we still care! You've built a fucking brick wall between us -"

Her voice dropped. "I'm not doing this, Ben. Not now - not ever!" She turned and stomped away, her little figure stiff with anger, stopping at the door for a final shot. "Get this in your brain - you don't own me!" She slammed the door behind her and I heard her footsteps running upstairs.

I'm not a heavy drinker but I went out that night, meeting up with a couple of friends from work to sink some beers at the local pub. I wasn't good company though, and they moved on to leave me to drink alone. I sat at the bar, nursing a Scotch, remembering what it had been like when we were together, me inside her, her body painted by the rain-swept luminescence from the little window above our bed and her eyes soft with love. I remembered her words on the last morning, when she had said that she would always want me, and I tried to reconcile them with the anger in her face tonight. Like a forlorn lover I played the scene over and over in my mind, trying to figure where things had gone wrong and what I could have done to prevent it. The anger had long since gone and I was racked with self-pity and a sense of injustice.

In the early hours of the morning I gave up and walked through the empty streets. It was raining - a light drizzle falling silently, painting the road silver in the circle of light from every street lamp, and I was soaking wet and stone-cold sober by the time I reached home. The house was quiet and I crept into my room to slip off my clothes and dry off before climbing into bed. I knew that sleep would be difficult.

There was a little tap on the door, so quiet that I thought I had imagined it, and then I heard the creak of the door and her soft voice, whispering. "Ben."

I sat up. "Here."

She moved silently across the room, a fleeting shadow, and I felt her bump against the bed as she reached me. "Where are you? I can't see."

"Wait, I'll put on the light -"

"No! No, don't." She felt along the bed and found me, and raised the bedclothes to slip in. "Christ, you're freezing."

"I've only just got in."

"I know. I've been waiting." She wrapped her arms around me, her face close to mine so that I could hear her voice, a low whisper. "I can't stay long but I couldn't sleep. I had to speak to you again. Are you OK?"

"I guess."

"I mean, are you drunk?"

I laughed softly. "No, I'm not. I wanted to be, but even that didn't work. A shitty day all round."

"Ben - I came to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

"So why did -"

She put her fingers on my lips. "Wait. Let me finish. I had a bad day and I was tired, Ben. - we shouldn't argue on days like that."

"We shouldn't argue at all."

"Right....Ben, I didn't mean what I said about never doing this."

"So what did you mean? I'm pretty confused, Chelsea."

She pressed her lips against my neck. "Me too. I...want you so much, Ben, but I'm frightened of what will happen. I shouldn't be here now - I'm terrified about them finding out about us. I can't do... anything in that environment, and you kept pushing -"

"I love you. I need you, like before -"

Her whisper was urgent. "I do too! Just like before - but not here. This isn't like that."

"I can't wait for ever, Chelsea. I need you."

She was quiet. I could feel her warmth through her nightdress, pressed up alongside of me and I could smell the fragrance of her hair close to my face.

"Chelsea?"

"Yep. I hear you." She was quiet for a while, then she spoke, so softly I could hardly hear her. "Suppose we go away for a weekend? Just you and me. We could go to a place where no one would find us."