Parting

The basement was our refuge. It was dark, cold, and filled with all the odd bits of furniture from over the years. In the corner was a blue chair, the back of which was decorated with hand embroidered roses and daisies. A coffee table with one leg nearly chewed through by a relative's dog, and a glass top that has years of scratches and marks sits in front of the most used piece of eclectic style in the entire basement. It was a yellow couch that seated two and a half people. Three people will find that there is no room for comfort. Two people will find that there is just a bit more room than is truly needed to seat simply the pair of bodies. Therefore, it is, as it has come to be known, the two-and-a-half seater. The yellow is consistent with frozen lemonade concentrate. The fabric - miraculously the original - is soft and looks like puckered skin.

This is solely the property of the children of our family. Mom and dad never seem to venture down into the room for anything but a yearly inspection to determine if the CDC needs to be contacted. Admittedly, an omni-present scent of pizza and something yet unidentified permeate the subterranean hideaway, but that is the extent of the problems with the space.

I was sitting in the blue chair, wondering what it was going to be like to go to college. I didn't know anything about it. I was the oldest in the family, and as usual, was the guinea pig for anything new. My sister was likely not going to college at any rate. She despised school with a loathing that I had only ever seen reserved for fascism and state sponsored canings. I could not tell what she would eventually do, but I had little doubt that it would be far removed from any form of institutionalized learning.

Jamie, three days past her birthday, and still unsure and excited about her new-found status, was sitting in the yellow couch, reading and listening to some horrific new singer while tapping her tiny fingers along to the simple beat. I looked at her and was hard pressed to see in her the 18 year-old that I knew she was. She still had a little girl's body. Like our mother, she was tiny. If she was more than five feet tall, I would be shocked. Her face was so bright and full of wonder about anything that was new; it was impossible to believe that she was old enough to vote.

Jamie and I had always been close. We shared a bedroom until we were too old to do so with any comfort. Dad had moved all my stuff into what was his study when I was at school one day.

"Boys need their space, Les. You'll see." He was right, of course. I was getting to that age where it wasn't comfortable to change clothes with her in the room. She was still my sister, and nothing had changed the fact that we were like best friends, but she was also a girl. No mater what you think at the time, that still matters.

They seemed quite pleased with our relationship. They both came from family environments where it was the natural order to torment and harass anything in the house that was younger than you were. To them, our loving and close relationship was very nearly a miracle. What they did not know, however, was how much we did love each other.

We had never done anything about it, but it was always there. Sometimes, we would act perfectly normal even when alone. Nevertheless, there were many times when it was a chore not to give in and cross that very dangerous line. I was the hold out of the two of us. Jamie had several times made the very eloquent case that what we felt was perfectly normal, and if she were not my sister, I would have expressed that feeling whenever I could.

She was, without a doubt, correct. However, the fact that she was my sister gave me pause. This did not mean that I didn't lust after her every chance I got. I would spend all night watching her as she read in her chair, or dozed in front of the television on the yellow couch. I admit it, I wanted to be with her whenever I could, and I was tiered of not being able to hold her, or kiss her small, soft lips. I wanted to act, and I knew that I could not. I cold not condemn her to a kind of life from which she would garner noting but sorrow. I could not do something like that to someone I loved so deeply.

But, how long could I hold out? I knew I could not do it forever. In the meantime, we had resigned ourselves to time spent together. That was - in the absence of true displays of affection, and in the presence of my overwhelming fear of screwing up her life in ways that would only be evident in years to come - that was as good as it got.

"You've got everything all set?"

"Pretty much. I'm not taking all that much with me. Just enough."

"So I can raid your CD's Wile you're gone?"

"That's all I am to you? I'm just a bunch of free CD's?"

"I suppose. You have your good qualities, as well."

"Really? Do tell."

"Well, you're handsome. There's always that." Her voice no longer had that playful, teasing edge to it. "I love the way you hold the door for me, and I know you do it for everyone, but it still makes me feel good."

"Jamie, don't -"

"When you laugh," she started to say as she leaned forward on the edge of the couch to face me. "When you laugh, it makes my stomach tighten up." She put her balled up little fist against her smooth belly. "It makes my head swim when you smile at me. I makes my knees weak when you say my name when we're all alone." She pulled her tanned legs under her body. "Those are just your more obvious qualities."

"Jamie, how many times are we going to go through this?"

"Until you figure out that I'm right."

"I love you, Jamie. I love you more than anyone I could ever know."

"Don't say it, Les. If you're not going to do anything about it, don't say it. It hurts too much." The sadness in her voice made me cold. She turned back to the television and we didn't say anything the rest of the afternoon.

"I don't want to go this way, Jamie. Please, try to understand why this just could not work. Please."

"You're going away anyway so it really doesn't matter, Les. You were right. Let's just forget it." She stretched her lean legs out and then curled them under her again as she sank down into the cushions of the couch. Her hair was bathed in changing and flickering light from the television. Her skin looked like milk in the light.

"That's right. That's right, I'm going away in two days. Two days, and I don't want those last two days to be like this. I don't mean to hurt you, Jamie, but you have to understand that what you want, it just would not work. Please, talk to me."

"You keep telling me that we can't work. If that's true, then why are you so set on talking about it? Don't' you understand that it rips me up to talk about this if all it can be is talk?" She looked over her shoulder at me and fixed me with her big, gorgeous eyes. "Are you arguing with me, Les, or with yourself?"

"I'm arguing...I'm just saying that we have to come to an understanding about this. I don't want to go and leave you feeling this way. I don't want to go and leave ME feeling this way."

"How do you feel, Les? Tell me."

"Stop it, Jamie. Just stop." I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't manage the words. I didn't know what it was that I wanted. I just stopped talking and tried to forget the whole situation.

It was my last night home before I left for school. I was driving up with a friend the next afternoon. My family had given me a nice going away dinner, and all their well wishes. The only thing left was Jamie.

It was around two in the morning. I was agitated about my situation with my sister, and a little anxious about going off to school so far away. I was sitting downstairs trying to watch TV to settle my nerves. I heard the door open at the stairwell and waited to hear my mom tell me to turn the television down. Then the door shut, and I heard the soft steps of feet on the thick carpet stairs. Jamie came around the corner and sat down, reclining into me, worming under my arm. This was how we used to sit and while away the time. She hadn't done so for a week or better, and it felt wonderful to have her body against mine for the last time in a long while.

I started to say something but she put her finger to my lips and told me to just relax, and watch TV. She told me we would have plenty of time to talk, and she just wanted to be with me.

I don't remember what we watched. It was some movie about a singer and his almost predestined fall from grace. I remember hearing her tell me that it was no wonder he couldn't have sex, he'd been drinking a bottle of whiskey. I heard what she said. I remember every word she said, I just didn't care what the movie was doing.

I was slouched down in the cushions, and she was sitting up on her legs as they folded under her, so she was almost up at the same level as I. I sat there and stared at her face. I wanted to burn her into my memory - just as she looked right then. I wanted to remember her eyes, wide with interest as she watched the film. I wanted to remember her lips, slightly opened, occasionally wetted by her tongue. I wanted to see in my mind the way her hair fell around her tiny ear. Her ear was a singularly beautiful thing. It was elegant, and so soft.

Jamie and I had never touched each other in any way that could be deemed inappropriate. Not so much as a tender hand in mine. Not so much as a kiss that wasn't on the cheek and in full view of another member of the family. I knew that if we were to stretch the line of acceptable behavior just the tiniest bit, that we would plunge headlong into a very strange darkness. I had been so careful to avoid everything I had ever wanted to do with a girl when I was alone with Jamie. I don't understand what I did or why I did it.

My hand, with no real though on my part, came up, and with the backs of my fingers, I brushed the side of her warm cheek. My thumb strayed out to feel her hair. I felt her head press gently but firmly into my touch. I felt like I was falling. I felt hot inside. My heart was cooking in my chest. My lungs didn't know how to pump. I tasted that same feeling on the back of my tongue as I tasted when I was afraid.

She turned and melted into me. Her arms, sliding around my body, tightened and held me, as much, I was certain, to keep me there as to feel my body against her own. My head was filling with all sorts of impulses. Run, stay, touch, kiss, escape, feel.

She lifted up and pressed her soft lips to me, shocking both of us with the sensation and opening a floodgate that couldn't close again.

She was heat and silk and intoxicating. Her breath came hard and made my skin tingle as she moved over me. I slid my fingertips along her neck and over her shoulders. The feeling of her skin was making me crazy. My hands shook as I ran my fingers into her hair. It was hitting me all at once.

We laid there for what seemed the whole night. We kissed slow, fast, whatever we could think of. We had years of experience to get through in one night. We would never be able to do it. We settled for what we could.

"I don't want to have sex tonight. I don't want to hurt. Later, for that, alright?"

I just kissed her. She slid down and knelt between my legs on the floor. I was swimming in a cloud. I couldn't think. I wanted it, and I wanted it so bad it hurt, but I didn't want her to do it just because she thought she should do something. I started to tell her that she didn't have to do that.

"Shh. I want to. Now, lie back, and don't speak. Don't speak at all. We don't need to." Her little fingers worked at my belt buckle, and then to my pants, and then my zipper. She pulled the pants by the waistband, slipping her fingers in and catching my underwear too. I lifted my hips to allow her easier access. She pulled it all away and slid them over my feet. I felt incredibly exposed. Not just my nudity, but in all the time we had loved each other we had never so much as skinny dipped. Suddenly, we were taking that big step to something more. We couldn't turn back now.

My penis was sticking straight up. I don't think she had ever seen one before, and she looked uncertain as to what to do. I pulled off my T-shirt and threw it in a pile with my jeans. She stood up and slowly took off her nightgown. She wore nothing underneath. Her tiny, elegant body was magnificent in the low, flickering, blue light of the basement. Her breasts were small, teardrop shaped handfuls, and her skin was intoxicating. I could have stared at her forever. Between her legs, I had expected a thick patch of dark hair, only to see a tiny run of fine hair that may as well have not been there for all the good it seemed to do.

She stood there, almost shy, waiting as I looked at her lovely body. I just smiled. Words would have ruined it. She blushed and gave a tiny laugh at my approval. She moved again between my knees, knelt down, and placed her hot hands along the tops of my thighs.

After a moment, she wrapped her fingers around the shaft of my cock. I almost jumped from the couch. She looked worried at my reaction. I smoothed her hair with my hand and smiled again. She felt more confident and slid her hand along my dick. Her other hand joined the action, and started rubbing the underside of my cock. I was breathing hard thorough my nose, and wasn't sure how long I could take her attention.

I felt her hot breath on my dick before I felt the warm, moist tentative touch of her tongue on my skin. She started at the head and twirled around it, and then down the length of the shaft. When she engulfed the whole thing in her virgin mouth, I nearly cried out. She went slowly, and it was a bit awkward at first. She didn't know what to do with her tongue once I was inside her. But it felt like heaven. I wasn't about to criticize her technique. She moved slowly up and down, finally using her tongue on every motion. She sucked on it until her cheeks caved in, and occasionally she would let it out completely, making a tiny popping noise.

I let my hands run through her hair, feeling its silky texture and the warmth of her skin underneath it.

She was really getting into the blowjob, moving her head around, letting it slip out of her mouth and then back in. She ran her tongue all along the shaft, sliding down, letting her tongue trace around my balls. It was all very new, and at the same time, it was completely genuine. It was for her benefit. It was for my benefit. It was a way to give pleasure and to a way to be closer at the same time.

Jamie put her mouth back over my cock, licking it first, finding a rhythm she liked. We moved together, my hips raising every so often, her mouth moving up and down, warm, and wet on my dick. Jolts of pleasure shot through my body, threatening to end it all far to soon. I pulled her off me before I lost it.

I guided her back on the floor and gently spread her legs. She understood what I was going to do, and took a deep breath as her fists clenched at her sides. She bit her lip, and pulled her feet in close to her body.

I lay down on the floor, situating myself between her thighs, letting her legs drape over my shoulders. She was warm and smelled like clean peaches. I looked at the small slit between her legs, never having seen it, and ran my fingers along the smooth plump lips. She twitched, gave a small squeal, giggled, and let my fingers continue their exploration. She was moist, and her skin was starting to sweat. I licked the inside of her thigh and she moaned, her body relaxing as she drifted into the same state of pleasure I had just been in.

I lowered my head and let my tongue run the length of her pussy. I pushed in just a touch, and she moaned. She ran her hands up her naked belly and massaged her tits. Her legs twisted around on my back, and her heels dug into my spine. I moved my tongue around inside her, tasting her, smelling her. I flicked my tongue over her clit, causing her to jump a bit. I kept my tongue in her pussy, and brought my thumb up to work her sensitive button. She was getting wetter, grinding her mound into my face, making noises that almost sounded like she was in pain. Her legs clamped around my neck, pressing my face to her cunt, and I felt her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer. She came hard, surprising me, but flooding my mouth with her climax.

She let her legs slide down off my shoulders, and sat forward as I pulled myself up to face her. We sat together, her legs over mine, and our bodies nearly touching together. She stretched up as best she could and I leaned down to meet her in a slow, burning kiss. She ran her tongue along my mouth, tasting herself, and licking what was left of her orgasm from my lips and chin. Small, doting kisses covered my face. I felt her hands slide down between us and gently grab my still hard cock. She ran her hand along her pussy, dipping her fingers inside, scooping up what juices she could, and slathered my cock with them. She slowly gave me a hand-job, letting her fingernails play up along the sensitive head. Both hands were working me, up and down, slow then fast, making it feel better than it had ever been.

Her mouth was back to mine, tasting and licking. We kissed like lovers. We moved slowly in that. Her tender lips rubbed against mine, and the tip of her tongue would dart out and graze my mouth as we broke for air.

Her small breasts pressed against my chest. Her nipples were hard and she moaned when they rubbed along my skin.

Her hands were still moving on my dick. I was getting close. I broke away from her mouth and threw my head back to hold my orgasm off as long as I could. I felt like I was on fire. Jamie realized what I was doing and slid off my lap, setting her self in front of me, still holding my cock.

She put her entire mouth over my dick, swallowing it as far as it would go. Her nose bumped my pelvis. Her throat pulsed around me, swallowing out of reflex, or instinct, or nervous reaction. It was all I could take. I felt my balls tighten up and I came hard. She had me partway into her throat, nearly gagging herself until she started to inhale through her nose. I shot spurt after spurt into her, until she had to pull off me to breathe. A last spurt hit her on the cheek as she pulled away. She jumped at the sensation. Her hand came up and wiped it off, and then she licked it clean.

I sat there catching my breath and trying to take it all in. Whatever line I had been afraid of crossing had been completely obliterated. I didn't know what to do. We didn't simply succumb to impulse. That was a product of the pent up feeling of years worth of need. We did what we did because we wanted to, not because we just felt like it. But that didn't tell me what to do after that. How were we supposed to act after that? How were we supposed to treat each other? We couldn't just keep going as we had over the last few years, and we couldn't just leap into something more.

"We'll just take it as it goes, Les," she said. She had been staring at my face and, apparently, it was easy to read. Though, she might have been thinking the same thing.

However it would go, we would deal with it. I loved her, and that wouldn't change. As we lay there, that last night at home, we made plans. We would have to be careful. It would destroy the family if anyone was to find out, and we didn't want that.

Laying there, holding her body against mine, I knew it was right. It fit. We fit. It was that simple.

END

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you for taking the time to read "Parting". I would invite you to read my other stories, and as always, feedback is both welcomed and encouraged.