Covidiots part 5
Another Covid Confession
By
de Vere
My sister smells good.
You know how everyone has their own scent? Not the nasty, sweaty one, but the one they have after a shower. An aroma that rises over the lingering smell of shampoo. We were in lockdown, so she never used perfume, and that pleased me, because I didn't want anything masking her fragrance.
Her hair had its own scent, too. Different, yet similar. That hair lay across the pillow and tickled my nose. Amazing as it smelled, her hair looks even better, although the dark robbed it of the spectacular reddish-orange color that sparkled a thousand different colors in sunlight.
The bedside clock read 4:20. I pulled her closer with a hand cupped over her breast.
Red and I are still in lockdown together.
If you have not read the previous memoirs of quarantining with my sister, Red is what I call her because it is the color of her hair. No, you won't get more details out of me. All you get is to hear what happens when you lock me up for months with a red hot MILF. Red is in her early 50s, could pass for 40, and still weighed almost the same as when she graduated from high school as a skinny teenager. The boob I held in my hand is a solid B—I eventually did the laundry specifically to check, and confirmed my guess correct. Firm like I was holding a woman half her age.
The way her small, round bum fit into the curve of my lap as we spooned is what woke me up. Nearly every night, I woke up several times, although this was only the second night I woke up with Red's tit in my hand.
Red is nature's warning color.
That night is seared into my memory. The night before, the first night we slept together, I barely slept at all. I remember that one, too, even though all we did was make out again. Only the second time in our lives we kissed. Well, third, if you count the one night we went down on each other. That was probably a month ago.
Neither of us expected things to last this long. To be honest, it was mid-May, and I had begun thinking it might be time to head back home, even thought I had nothing to do once I got there. My job was not coming back any time soon.
Things were looking up back then. They were opening beaches in time for Memorial Day, although they might not have announced it yet.
So, why did I stay? Have you read the earlier parts? If not, stop right now, go back and read them. No man in his right mind would leave.
If not for the fact that we were using each other as sex toys, lockdown would have been boring as shit. Now they were opening things back up, and it looked like we might have missed anything bad happening. But my goal was to corrupt my sister in my own image. No way was I leaving—not until my sister seduced me.
Everyone needs goals, right? Sure, I could have screwed her. It would not have been rape, because she got as wound up as me and wanted it as much as I did. It would have been simple. But Red was a challenge. All redheads are—I should know. In my life I dated several and even married one.
See, the thing about Red is she freaked out about everything we did. A month had passed since she let me bury my face between those firm, milky white thighs and rubbed my nose raw on her patch of red pubes while I licked two orgasms out of her. After that, the only thing I got for weeks was she let me watch her shower. She watched me, too. I kept biding my time.
Then we got freaky with our feet. We gave each other foot jobs. First time for both of us. If you haven't fucked a woman's feet, try it sometime. If it's your sister's feet, even better. And each time we did something, she pulled back.
"I'm not that kind of woman is all," she explained.
"You've been married four times."
"None of those times to my brother," she answered. Like that made a difference.
To be fair, if there was one thing I learned over the previous two months is that it does make a difference. Okay, I learned her huge, two-inch-across nipples are the lightest pink color imaginable, and her bush is a light pale, even lighter than the color of her eyebrows. And I learned how she moans and screams when she comes.
But I also learned how hot it is to violate a taboo. I never had any mommy issues, and although both of Red's daughters are beautiful, I never really thought about them in too inappropriate ways. Well, not very often, at least. But my sister had always been beautiful. Far back as I can remember, I loved trying to peek down her shirt, but I never thought I would actually do anything with her.
Those days in self-isolation, I thought about almost nothing else.
The only way it would work out is if she took the initiative. She had to think screwing me was her decision. Otherwise, she would resent me for talking her into it, and I really didn't want to screw things up with my sister. Literally. No, the only way it would work is if she broke down and begged for it. Only then would we not only do it, but it would not be a one-night-stand with my sis. I mean, shit, you can't break up with your sister, right? And no matter how much fun it would be, I didn't want years of hostility for taking advantage of her.
So, she must take advantage of me. My job was to convince her to do it.
It was the most fun game I ever played in my life.
We bathed together a few times after our foot jobs. Feet jobs. Whatever it is. Then she started bathing alone. Locking the bathroom door. But she still entertained me by going braless around the house, and we just hung out.
Until two nights before where we started this part.
We were sitting there watching movies. "What about something scary?"
She agreed. I picked the Kate Beckinsale movie,
Haunted
. I did my research. It was hot, particularly the incredible sex scene with Kate riding that guy. Then, we find out she is a ghost who died in a fire with her two brothers. The brothers she had sex with. Then she turns into the ghost of his own sister or something—it gets a little weird—and Red started asking, "Did you know about this?"
"I've never seen this movie," I said, avoiding her actual question.
"Pretty convenient, isn't it?"
"Pretty hot, if you ask me. Don't you think it is sexy?"
"Yeah, well..."
"You aren't a ghost, are you?"
"Could be. Maybe we both died of Covid already, and this is how we will spend all eternity—stuck in this house forever."
"I'm pretty sure that is what happened," I said. "Like the Mariell siblings." Those were the family who played together in the film.
"Exactly," she said.
"Well, except that they all got to screw each other before Christina killed them."
"Do you think she kept screwing the ghosts of her brothers all that time?"
"Probably. Can you imagine how pissed her brothers were when she screwed that professor right there in their house?"
"Yeah, no wonder she had to follow him home—her brothers probably threw the slut out!"
We laughed, then I asked her, "You aren't a ghost, are you?"
"How can we be sure?"
We sat a respectable distance apart on the couch, close enough to reach out and touch her, so I squeezed her thigh about halfway up. "You don't feel like a ghost."
"Christina must not have felt like a ghost," she said. "The professor didn't notice."
"Good point." I slid closer. "You feel great for a ghost."
"I bet you say that to all the dead girls you meet."
"Pretty much." We just stared at each other for a long minute. "We should make out or something."
"I've never made out with a ghost."
"Should be hot," I said before kissing her. We kissed a few times since those two nights a month ago, but not so much. Too personal. Too real. In the bathtub and in the shower, we just got down to business, foot jobs and occasionally sucking on her wet, luscious boobies. But I wanted personal. I love kissing my sister. She loves it too, even though it makes her so vulnerable. My fingers caressed her cheek. Lightly, barely touching her warm skin, thumb tenderly pushing the pink skin of her lips slowly up, then down. Following my lead, her palm cradled the side of my face, then her finger traced my lip. The green of her irises grew more intense.
Green means go!
Our lips slammed into each other with the force of our suppressed desire unleashed with the pent-up force of an avalanche. Our tongues immediately found each other's, dancing forcefully in circles, slowing and speeding up as perfectly as if we choreographed the whole thing beforehand. Our hands were all over each other. One hand dug into those lovely curls while the other stroked her hip and around to her ass, while she squeezed my chest with one and her other rubbed my thigh. In less than a minute, we had each sampled much of the other's bodies.
I honestly don't know how her top came off. Although I like to think I did it, it is almost better to think she did. Either way, it was gone and I was sucking her shoulder, a boob in each hand, and she wrapped a leg around my back and somehow straddled my lap.
She yelled at me when I started sucking her neck.
"No one will see it," I explained.
"Oh, right," she said, pulling her hair away and tilting her head to offer me her neck. I marked her with a massive hickey and she laughed. Then I kissed my way back up her neck to her cheek, her eyes, those sweet light eyebrows. This had her lit like a fuse on a stick of dynamite, and her hips ground against me. I wonder if my arousal unaided by modern medicine still surprised her? My teeth held her lower lip as she tilted her head back, hands holding onto my neck and her crotch rubbing my stick hard as a contestant on Survivor trying to light a fire.
When her tongue went into my mouth again, this time we moved slowly. Her tits must be bruised by now, but she pressed her chest into me with passionate force.
Her fingers slipped inside the top of my pants and slid down the skin of the lower part of my stomach.
