Grief Relief

I have always loved my sister Penny, we were very close growing up and I can't recall us ever fighting much the way some siblings do. But while I always looked on her as being a lovely young woman and very attractive, I never seriously thought of her and I in a sexual way through our formative years. Not until recently when we each encountered incredible grief and we found ourselves there for each other.

I married my childhood sweetheart Wendy at 25, we had been going together as boyfriend/girlfriend since we were 14, although we never became fully sexually active until 17. Wendy and I had a couple of kids, a boy and a girl and life was very much picture perfect. Until a few months ago when a drunk SOB driver lost control, T-boning my wife's car, killing her instantly. If there could be any good fortune in such a tragedy, it is that the kids weren't travelling with her that evening -- they so often did as she drove them around to all those sport and cultural activities that kids do these days.

I was naturally shattered by the loss of Wendy, she was my rock, the foundation of our family ... she kept us all sane. So here we were now, my kids aged 11 and 13, and me turning 40 next month and having to raise them alone.

My older sister Penny has been incredible. Despite losing her own husband to cancer barely six months ago and still in mourning herself, she jumped in to take charge as I floundered around like a fish out of water flopping around on the sand.

Penny didn't ask, she just told me she was moving in and intended to stay however long it took for me to get back on my feet. It was possible for her to give me so much time because she had been married to a high-flying insurance executive who had provided so well for my sister before he contracted cancer that they owned their home outright, and with insurances and his work superannuation entitlements, she wouldn't need to work. Penny and Richard had married young and so her two twin boys were now 18 and she felt comfortable in leaving them at home to fend for themselves while she devoted time to caring for my kids and myself.

Penny had just turned 42. She explained to me that moving in to take care of me and my two kids could at last be the therapy that she needed to take her mind off losing Richard. "When I'm at home all day and the twins are off at school, I just mope around feeling sorry for myself. But now I will have some purpose in my life, helping you through this agonising time and taking care of your kids."

The first week after my wife's fatal accident was obviously the hardest. Coming to terms with what had happened, going through that 'why us' stage, consoling the kids through their heartache while running around each day organising aspects of the funeral. It took its toll, each night I needed a few stiff drinks to help me get to sleep. Penny was so supportive, she would sit and talk to me, let me pour out my feelings of grief to her, even though whenever I did, it rekindled her own grieving for Richard.

So the day of the funeral came around, it was midweek - a Wednesday. Somehow we got through that, although it pissed me off how many friends and relatives came up to me outside the chapel afterward, saying how it would be much better for us now, having put the funeral behind us. I couldn't fathom how anything about this grief could get better. What I felt yesterday and the day before would still be around tomorrow and the day after. I guess they were all well meaning, trying to console us as best they could.

And then there was the wake. Why do we put ourselves through that? We have just struggled with the tears and emotion of farewelling our loved one inside a casket, only to go directly to a catered function with food and drink and our friends and relatives all assembled there, seemingly chatting amiably as if it was just another family get together.

So I was a real case that Wednesday evening. Penny was stoic and fed the kids and put them to bed while I slumped in my favourite recliner as day turned into night, unable to find the energy to stand up and go switch a light on. Penny looked in on me regularly but I told her that her time was better spent with my kids.

It was 9.30 before she eventually was able to join me, sitting down across from me in my wife's recliner and switching on a couple of lamps. "Now little brother, you haven't eaten a thing tonight, you really should."

"I'm just not hungry Penny. I did eat a few of the nibblies at the wake."

"Well, that's something. How many of those scotches have you had?"

"I don't know, a few."

"So you were able to get up and pour more drinks, but you couldn't get up to switch a light on when it got dark outside?"

I didn't need a lecture about my drinking right now. I reached down and picked up a half-filled bottle of Scotch, "I didn't need to leave my chair for refills."

"Bobby, you will have to watch your alcohol intake. I know only too well that it has a deadening effect on the grief, but overall it's not good for you."

"I'll stop before it gets out of hand Penny."

"I hope you can Bobby."

I knew that my sister only had my best interests at heart. We sat and talked for an hour, including serious stuff like how I would cope once Penny returned home. She told me that as much as she wanted to help, she couldn't stay around forever. I knew that but I couldn't contemplate her leaving just yet ... and told her so.

"I'll be here for you Bobby, in every way that I can be, as long as you need me."

We talked on some more. Nearing midnight, Penny asked, "So when do you intend to go to bed, you need your sleep."

"I don't think I'll be able to, even with a gutful of alcohol that has me feeling quite hazy."

"Well come on Bobby, let's give it a try."

My sister steered me off to my bedroom and sat me down on the side of the bed, "Now you get your pyjamas on and I'll go get myself changed too. I'll be back to check on you before I go to bed myself."

Fortunately, my wife and I had bought a four-bedroom house so in the current crisis, I had been able to set aside the spare room (the 4th bedroom) for Penny to sleep in. Only a narrow single and she said the mattress wasn't that comfortable.

About ten minutes must have passed by when Penny reappeared. I didn't look up. She found me still in the clothes of that day, still sitting on the side of the bed ... only now I had my head in my hands and had begun sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh Bobby, my poor brother, come on man, you've got to pull yourself together. Think of your kids, they're managing so well, you have to too." I felt her sit down alongside me and drape her arm over my shoulder, offering me reassuring words about how I would come through this eventually. She did manage to get me to stop sobbing, "Come on Bobby, let's get you into bed."

My sister pushed me onto my back on the bed and leaned over me to unbutton my shirt. Then I felt her hands at my waist, unbuckling my belt, followed by another two buttons to undo my trousers and then the fly zip. Even through my grief and hazy alcohol-induced state, I was surprised that my sister was actually undressing me. Mentally, I didn't see it as a sexual thing that she was doing, but physically, my cock had a different reaction, twitching responsively when her fingers brushed against it through my clothing as she unzipped and removed my trousers. Did she feel it jerk?

"Come on, help me," I heard her say and realised that she expected me to raise my bum so she could tug my trousers down. I did my best, lifting up, and then she was urging me to raise my shoulders and back so she could get the shirt off me.

I lay before her on my bed wearing only my jocks. "Come on, stand up, you can do the rest yourself," she urged and I saw that she had pulled my pyjamas out from under the pillow where she had left them after making my bed for me today.

I stood up, a little shaky on my legs after all those scotches I had drunk. I turned around and reached for my pyjama shirt and managed to pull it on. I felt Penny move around in front of me and button it up. Then, to my surprise, I felt her take a hold of my jocks and haul them down to my knees from where they were able to drop to the floor, leaving me naked below my pj shirt.

"Hey!" I protested loudly, "modesty!"

"Oh come on little brother, it's not like I haven't seen one of those before, don't give me any false modesty." That's the way my sis was, the way she talked to me.

The shock of her exposing my cock caused my eyes to open wider than they had all evening. Did I actually see her looking down to check it out before reaching for my pj pants on the bed? I don't know, I could have imagined that after so many drinks. She held the pants open for me and bent forward, bringing her face up real close to my belly and groin, just above my floppy appendage.

"Now lift one leg, ok ... can you do that?"

I needed to reach my hand out and placed it on her back to steady myself as Penny bent over in front of me. I managed to lift a leg and place it inside the pj pants that she held open.

"Now the other, come on."

As I managed to raise my second leg, my hand still resting on her bent back, I told her, "This is so embarrassing, needing you to undress me."

"If you're worried that I'm getting to see your cock up close, as I've already said, it's not like I haven't seen one of those. Richard had a pretty good one. And I can give you a painful reminder and tell that story again, about the last time I saw yours and you were 13."

"Oh shit, you're not going to bring that up again, are you? I've spent my life trying to wipe that from my memory."

"Really, why would you? I'd have thought it would have been one of the most cherished and defining memories of growing up."

Penny was two years older than me and as I said, we were quite close when we were kids, although never ever this close, before and after that one night. I was 13 and going through puberty, discovering that I had a cock that would now respond quite firmly to touch.

My then 15-year old sister had a sleepover with two of her friends. I am not sure how this incident evolved, possibly it was Penny showing off to her friends? One of my buddies had lent me a porno magazine filled with pictures of naked women and including a couple of pages of men and women fucking. So there I was, in bed early at around nine when my sister and her two overnight guests burst into my room, right while I'm in the middle of jerking off under the blanket while gazing at the magazine.

"So whatcha doing little brother?" asked Penny, jumping onto my bed, "what's going on under there, can we see?"

Now I'd been at it for about five minutes, so I was really hard and buzzing along, feeling very good inside and expecting soon to feel good all over as my cum burst forth. But now my efforts would be stalled. I pulled my hand off my erection and withdrew it from under the covers that in turn descended, floating down, only to be held up tentpole-like at one spot in the middle of the bed.

Spotting the covers held up by the solidity of my juvenile erection, Penny yelled, "Bobby, you naughty boy, what have you been doing?" Then, turning to her friends in what I would call grandstanding, she announced, "My little brothers a bit of a perv, look what he's been up to." She had spotted my magazine and grabbed for it, "Ooh, look at these pictures girls, now he knows what we all look like without our clothes on."

Turning back to me, my big sister teased, "Wouldn't you like to see the real thing, to see us naked?" She paused, "Well you can't ... but I tell you what," she got off the bed, turning again to her friends, "should we help him, what do you think?" With that, Penny grabbed the top sheet and blanket and yanked it back to expose my vertical hard-on standing high and proud.

Leading the way, Penny jumped back onto the bed, grasped my cock and began tugging on it. "Either of you want to help me here?" One of her two friends stepped forward and joined my sister on the bed. Penny handed me over to her friend and this girl took over wanking me for the limited time I had remaining. Within seconds, the cum shot upward from my erection, only to splash back onto my belly and my thighs with a liberal amount coating the girl's hand that she quickly retracted, squealing, "Oh yuck!"

I guess you could suggest it might have been an incestuous action, only because my sister initiated it. But it was her friend who introduced me to the wonderful idea that masturbating would be so much better if you allowed a female companion to do it for you, mainly because their lovely hands and fingers are so much softer and gentler.

The incident never traumatised me and I have long recalled it as a memorable interlude in my growth from child to eventual manhood. My sister never again did anything remotely similar or sexual, but she does seem to relish recalling that night regularly in our lives.

Back to the present and now wearing my pyjamas, alongside me, Penny in a pretty flowing powder blue nightgown, pulled back the covers and I dropped into my bed. "Thank you, I don't know where I'd be without you sis."

But to my surprise, instead of heading off to her bed in the fourth bedroom, Penny slid into the bed behind me, "Scoot over Bobby."

"What are you doing sis?" I am sure I must have looked apprehensively at her.

"I'm just going to stay until you get to sleep, then I'll go back to my bed."

"Oh ok," her reasoning sounded sensible so I accepted that. She was so concerned for me and obviously worried about my lack of sleep.

I did scoot across, laying on my back, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how I was ever going to sleep with my head filled with vivid images of my wife through the years running like a slide show. Penny lay unexpectedly close to me, on her side facing me, her warm shapely body pressed against my side. She threw an arm across my waist and for the first time I actually had a sexual thought about my sister when her bent elbow brushed against the head of my dormant cock that lay flat on my belly. I wondered why she hadn't draped her arm over my chest instead, well away from my manhood.

I lay there wide awake in spite of all the scotches, staring up at the ceiling. I could feel Penny watching me. Eventually, she spoke, "Bobby, are you even trying to get to sleep?"

"I don't think I can sis."

"Try to shut your mind down Bobby, just relax completely. I was hoping the mutual warmth of our bodies might relax you enough for you to drift off, but you do seem tense."

Nothing more was said for a couple of minutes, then I felt the hand of the arm that she had draped across my waist moving, felt her fingers pulling out the knot in the white cord of my pj pants. My pants loosened, my sister's fingers undid the buttons on my pj shirt, pushing the two sides apart. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Still trying to relax you Bobby," she told me and I felt her fingers begin to lightly caress my bare chest, tracing all the way down to my belly, stopping barely an inch short of my cock that was beginning to react to the touch of soft feminine fingertips on my bare skin ... even though she hadn't actually touched it. How did she gauge how close she got to my cock without touching it, was she watching her hand's progress as she lay with her head against my shoulder?

"Ummm!" I mumbled, unable to stop myself from expressing how good her soft fingers felt against my bare skin, despite my conscience screaming out inside my head how I shouldn't be enjoying the soft caress of my sister.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

"Yes!" my voice quavering, "feels very nice, but I don't think you should be doing that to me."

"Let me be the judge of that little brother, my motto is whatever it takes to get you to sleep."

"Calming me might take more than you can or should do."

"I know that, just you relax and let me worry about right and wrong."

That sounded ominous, was she preparing to test my moral fibre, and hers?

I was becoming worried about my cock growing bigger as a reaction to her soft fingers caressing my bare chest and belly. I attempted to surreptitiously reach my left hand down to take hold of it, to try to move it, point it down my leg, away from my belly, out of harm's way.

"What are you doing?" Penny asked.

"I ... err, I'm ... I, err, I'm a bit embarrassed at what's going on down there."

"What is going on?"

"The damn thing's getting bigger."

"So what?"

"Well, it shouldn't be, not when my sister is touching me."

"I'm not your sister at this moment, I'm a woman and I'm trying to calm you, to bring you peace and comfort, some relief from the grief, something you thoroughly deserve after what you've been through this past week."

There it was, she had said it, her intentions made clear.

I felt her hand slip lower, pushing my hand away from my now quite strong erection, "Give me that, let me help."

She took my hard-on in hand and twisted it more comfortably back upward again, beginning some strokes along its entire length. That did it, rapidly expanding now to full erection, straining with taut skin bulging.

"Oh Bobby, it feels good, is this alright, you don't mind me helping, do you?"

"Err ... no, it's good ... in fact, it's real good. Are you going to ... err, are you...?"

"What Bobby, am I going to what? What do you want little brother, do you want to cum, is that what you're trying to ask?"

"Yes!" the word sort of hissed out of my mouth.

"Of course I am ... if that's what you want."

"I haven't cum for a couple of weeks, Wendy had her period in the week before she died. I shouldn't even be thinking about that, not now. It's just that we did enjoy sex and I've always been such a horny guy, but it's been at least two weeks since I've cum."

"Then it's decided Bobby, you can cum now ... I'm sorry, I won't be Wendy, but I'll make it as good as I possibly can for you."

Penny didn't seem to be in any hurry as she casually stroked my erection, her hand around it, up and down, up and down the shaft. I settled down into the mattress, trying to dismiss all thoughts of how very wrong this was, trying to ignore that it was my sister making me feel this good. But the more she got into it, the better I felt, like a huge weight was being lifted as I succumbed to the wonderful sensations now running through my body as my sister wanked me earnestly.

In spite of all the alcohol I had consumed, I soon recognised that it would still be possible for me to cum. I felt it building within my groin.

"Bobby, is this alright, should I keep doing it like this?"

"Yeah, it's good, just like that."

"Maybe it would it better for you to cum in my mouth?"

Oh my God, did I hear right? Did my sister just offer to upgrade her hand job to a blow job? What am I to do? Of course I'd like a blow job ... I'd love a blow job. But is it right for me to expect her to do it? She did offer though, it's not like I asked her.

"Yes, better to cum in your mouth," I answered embarrassingly.

"That's what I thought," and without a moment's hesitation, Penny lifted her head from my shoulder and slid lower down the bed. She never missed a stroke with her hand and then I felt the warmth of her mouth close over the head of my cock.

"Oh my God, YES!"

With this latest move, I surrendered any thought of self-control. I lay back, trying to dismiss any rational thoughts of the taboo of whose mouth it was slurping around my erection ... her hand sliding back and forth along it, pushing it in and out of that warm wet mouth.

I'm getting closer, oh no, here it comes. Do I have to warn her? I don't think so! Surely she'll be a swallower ... after all, she was the one who offered for me to cum in her mouth. She has to know that means the whole deal. Oh no, too late now to say anything, to warn her. My cock spasmed, jerking within the grip of her wet oval lips. Penny seemed to clasp her lips tighter around my shaft as my cum spurted deep to the back of her throat. My erection shot wave after wave of my cum and she was equal to the task, swallowing down each fresh deposit until her lips and tongue had drained me.