My Sister Anne

My sister Anne was thirty the first time I made love to her. I was forty-five.

Our parents were in their early twenties when I was born, just out of college. When my only sibling arrived, I was in high school. The resulting brother-sister dynamic was not the usual sort. I remember when she came home from the hospital with our mother. Sometimes, I gave Anne her bottle. I often watched her. And I was always her big brother. A college student when she went off to kindergarten. Bringing her little gifts and taking her to the park. When she was ten she spent a week with me at my first house. We went to the zoo and walked in the woods and I took her horseback riding.

As her big brother, I was always there. Listening as she navigated her way through adolescence. Giving advice when she herself went off to college. Advising her after graduation as she began her career.

We were very close.

It was mid-February, a Saturday. She had this condo in the city, small but it suited her. I lived in the suburbs and we visited often.

She greeted me at the door as always, flashing that adorable smile. Anne is petite and cute, with lovely long red hair and breasts that are large for her stature but which suit her well. She let me in and served coffee as a sat on the sofa. Then as always, we caught up. Our jobs. Our lives. How my girlfriend was doing, how Anne's boyfriend was doing. But that was the thing. They'd broken up the day before.

I was deeply sympathetic. Anne and Tyler had been together for three years. I liked him and knew he was good for her. And he hadn't planned to break up with my sister on Valentine's Day. Things just came to a head. Bad timing.

I took my sister's hands in mine and looked at her and told her how sorry I was. Her eyes welled up with tears. I took her in my arms and just held her. Then it just happened. My hands, pulling her close, were on her ass. I ran my fingers through her hair, caressed her neck, then softly cupped a breast. Our lips found each other's, and we kissed for the first time. There was no urgency. It was easy and unhurried and we were lost in the moment. In time, I let our lips part and contemplated my sister for a moment. Then I surprised the both of us.

"Do you want me to make love to you, Anne?"

Her reply was equally surprising.

"Yes, Zach," she whispered softly with that smile I had come to know so well, the one that showed such pleasure with the attention she was receiving from her older brother.

I stood and took her hand and led her to her own bedroom. There, standing at the foot of her bed, I removed my shirt. Anne just watched, speechless. Then my pants. Finally, I was nude before her. My little sister was looking at my cock, hard for her. About to be in her.

Reaching out, I unbuttoned her blouse. When it fell away, I removed her bra, beholding her breasts. She had that look on her face wherein she uncertainly desired my approval, but she had never had to question whether it was coming. I had always given her my unqualified support, and she now saw that in my eyes. I could see the self-consciousness on her face as she wriggled out of her pants. Then she removed her panties. A lovely red bush.

Shyly, Anne laid down on her bed. As I climbed onto it, she parted her legs for me. My sister's pussy glistened with readiness. I leaned in to kiss her again, while placing the head of my cock between her wet and ready pussy lips. Slowly, I entered her.

"I love you, Anne," I whispered. She put her arms around me and pulled me into her with her legs.

"I love you too, Zach!"

And we made love.

It was gentle and easy lovemaking, both of us looking into each other's eyes, filled with absolute wonder at what was happening. We kissed and we talked softly and we touched each other.

I never asked my sister if I could cum inside of her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and I wanted to do so very much. Everything she did told me that she felt the same.

"Zach," Anne whispered with urgency. "That's perfect. Just like that, please don't stop."

I wasn't going to.

"Zach... Zach... oh God, Zach!"

My sister's pussy, which was tight enough as it was, clenched down on my cock as she climaxed. I began pushing into her harder, smooth deep strokes. Both the heavenly sensation as well as the delight of witnessing my little sister's orgasm spurred on my own. The small, slowly-diminishing tremors of hers were still rippling through her body when I buried my cock in her one last time, to the hilt.

I cried out Anne's name as the first pulse of my cum flowed into her.

"That was incredible" she whispered to me. I was still inside of her.

After, we lay side by side and quietly talked. Anne had not foreseen what happened any more than had I. She confessed that when she was a virgin teenager and discovered masturbation, her fantasies focused on me. In her imagination, I would be her first. When she lost her virginity at age 17, her first thought was that it put to an end her years-long fantasy. Even though she had always known that wouldn't happen, she'd still longed for it to be a possibility.

It was a Saturday afternoon. We decided to go out and grab a bite. My sister, the city girl, knows all the great little places to eat. That afternoon, what had just transpired was continually there with us. Our incestuous encounter was palpable in the air. Later, walking through a park, I put my arm around her. Then I let my hand descend to my sister's nice ass, perfectly compact with lovely curves.

"Let's go back to your place," I told her. There was relief in her eyes. She knew it was not to be a one-time thing, done and regretted, never to be repeated.

We made love once more that night.

And again in the morning.

That was five years ago. I'm married now. Anne is still single and will probably always be so. It's just her way. She has boyfriends that come and go. We regularly made love for the next three years. Then a couple of years ago, she moved to New York. Anne had always wanted to live there, and when a particularly attractive job opportunity arose there she didn't hesitate to pursue it.

It's only a two-hour flight away and she visits home a couple times a year. I pick her up at the airport. Our first stop is her hotel, and we always make love. Usually we manage another couple of hours alone together on her visits. My wife doesn't know of course. It's not hard to explain time spend with my sister, and who would ever suspect that we're having sex?

Once a year, I fly out for a long weekend in New York. For two long days, we make love. Talk. Make love. See the sights, take in a show. Make love. Visit the newest eateries she has discovered. And make love.

My flight lands in fifteen minutes. Three hours from now, Anne and I will be sitting across from each other at some bistro, pondering the menu. Chatting about everything and nothing. And secretly, we'll be savoring the fact that we just made love.

My little sister, smiling sweetly at me as she sits with a pussy full of cum that I just put in her.