My little sister and I never got along well, while I was the quiet one; she was always after me for something or another. She could never leave well enough alone. I love her as a sister, but would fantasize about us being more than just brother and sister.
She is a beautiful girl and very shapely. Our Italian heritage served her quite well in the looks department. Although she has always thought she was not very well endowed, I've always thought of her breasts as quite nice. I am four years her senior, me at twenty-three and her nineteen years, so I don't think she remembers when we were little and used to play, her with Barbie dolls and me with G. I Joes. We would have them kissing each other, and then we would act it out, kissing each other for real. Sloppy, wet little kid kisses.
As the years gathered, we grew apart. I've always had a love and desire for her, but she became bitter. Always wanting conflict and confrontation. I was never sure how to handle the situation, how to make her calm down and just live life. We spent year's hardly communicating at all during family functions and other get-togethers. We had mutual friends, so we saw a lot of each other, but she would shun me and always act like she had the one up on me.
Then one June day, at a Bar-B-Que I held at my house all things came to pass. I was at the grill laughing with friends and having a good time, beer in hand, when I heard her make a remark; a not so very nice remark, about me. I turned and glared at her, but she just looked at me and carried on like nothing had happened. Typical, I thought to myself, but this time I wasn't going to let it carry on.
I laid my tongs down and walked over to where she was gathered with some of our friends and, taking her gently by the shoulder, asked if we could be excused for a moment. I led her over to the other side of the yard and said, "Angela I know we haven't been the closest of siblings, but could you please refrain from denigrating me in front of my friends?"
She came back with, "Marcos, you deserve every word that comes from my mouth."
It was then that I couldn't take it anymore. My lust for her was at its peak as I looked down at her body. I am a good half a foot taller than her. Then our eyes met as we both anticipated the next comment. That was when I broke.
"You know," I said, " we've never gotten along well, and I don't quite understand why, but I would be willing to bet that if we had an incestuous affair, all that would change. I have the Italian Stallion you've probably never experienced and we could start anew"
Silence.
Silence like I'd never heard it before.
She just stared up at me like she was in total awe. Her luscious lips were parted, and then she gasped and declared she had to go. She gathered her things and left the party with no explanation.
It was the following weekend as I was home relaxing when I heard a slight tapping at the door, almost as if who ever was there didn't want to be heard. I peaked through the curtain and saw it was my sweet sister Angela paying a visit. I went to the door and opened it.
"Hey, little Sis."
"Can I come in?" she asked shyly.
"Of course." Was my reply.
I opened the screen door for her and she moved in cautiously, timidly, showing an anxiety I wasn't used to from her.
She looked up at me for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes all a glow and those luscious lips wet with anticipation. Instead of looking down on me, she was looking up to me, and I knew she wanted the shaft that was growing within the confines of my jeans.
I asked her if she'd like a drink and she agreed, so I made us each a gin and tonic. All the while she was looking at me, looking at me in a different light. Her eyes were glowing and she was obviously physically aroused. More than once her hands went to her breasts or wandered to the heaven that awaits us at the junction of all women's legs. It was as if she were in a trance.
