Thanks to everyone who has provided helpful and supportive comments, particularly to those who understand this is a love story, first and foremost.
Disclaimer:
All persons involved in any sexual situation are 18 years of age or more. The following story is pure fantasy.
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I stood in the shower for 30 long minutes under the scalding water, letting it redden my skin. No matter how hot the water or how much time I stood there, I could not wash off my shame. Just a couple hours previous I had been so profoundly happy and excited and aroused I thought my life could not possibly get any better. Snuggled up, warm and eager, with a beautiful girl who was willing to let me touch her and kiss her and love her and now I stood, alone and cold in a hot shower, sad and scared and dreading what was to come next.
I had let my lust for my little sister rule over my common sense. It was true: I lusted after Dottie. I'm confident that every man who ever met her lusted after her. She was perfect. A perfect body, a perfectly gorgeous face, and a perfectly wonderful personality. Her eyes, her hair, her smile, her skin, her breasts, her legs, her cute little feet, her preposterously perfect butt- all were undeniably amazing. I hate that I do exactly what other men do- objectifying Dottie but truly it was difficult not to. But there was a big difference between what other men, including my friends, saw in my sister and what I saw. There was one patent truth, a truth I could no longer avoid or ignore.
I was in love with Dottie Harper.
I climbed out of the shower and toweled myself off. I plodded into my room to get dressed, my brain overwhelmed with anxiety. What was going to happen when Aunt Dorothy and Dottie got back from shopping? Aunt Dorothy was sure to be angry and disappointed, particularly at me. That was something that I'd never seen and dreaded experiencing for the first time. Not for something this big. My beloved aunt had witnessed Dottie and me cuddling in my bed in a most inappropriate manner. To be honest I'm not positive she was aware that I was naked nor that she saw us kiss.
And what a kiss! Earlier we had kissed passionately, getting our tongues tangled up with each other, our hormones running rampant. But the kiss this morning was one of affection, not lust. It was gentle and light. It was a kiss of love.
Of course, Aunt Dorothy wouldn't see it that way. Most rational people would consider what Dottie and I did a terrible perversion. Worse yet, the word that made me sick to consider: incest. In my mind incest was an act done by sweaty old men with poor, naïve nieces. Dark room groping between a step-father and step-daughter. A son jerking off over his sleeping mother. My experience with Dottie and my feelings toward her were definitely different, in my opinion. It was fueled by a long-felt lust, for sure. But it was more than that. It felt more pure.
But it was all for naught. Dottie and I had acted on our emotions and now all hell was going to break loose. My aunt was going to be angry and disappointed. And Uncle Paul would either come beat my ass or, far worse, disown and ignore me. I had a great relationship with Uncle Paul. He came over to watch baseball games with me all the time. He taught me how to throw a curveball and how to replace the brakes on my Cherokee.
What if it doesn't stop with Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Paul? Will my cousins find out? My friends? Oh God, my Grandma?
I had no answers, of course, only questions and fears. I sat in my desk chair and did what I usually do when I need to escape. I picked up my guitar. I plugged in my Rockman, put on the headphones and disappeared into my world of arpeggios. Concentrating on guitar always relaxed me and helped peel away the layer of shit the world threw at me. When my mom died, it was a thick-fingered cover of "Eruption" by Van Halen; with my dad, it was Joe Satriani. They were, of course, way out of my league but that didn't stop me from trying. It was a great mind-wipe and occasionally a physical workout. Today was "Black Star" by Yngwie Malmsteen. Not a chance but it was fun trying.
I glanced up to see Dottie leaning against the door frame. She was wearing tight gray leggings, matching her eyes, a blue/gray/white button-up shirt that fit so perfectly across her breasts and a fuzzy blue eternity scarf. Her feet were covered with an old pair of black Chuck Taylor's. Her soft hair was pulled back in a ponytail and as usual, she was wearing no makeup. And there was the smile. She was mesmerizing.
"You're really good," she said, pulling the scarf over her head.
"How would you know?" I asked, removing the headphones. "You can't hear anything."
She laughed softly. "I don't have to. I've heard you play before. And I can see it in your face." She walked in to stand in front of me. "I love that look of concentration when you're playing. It's passion."
I laughed also. "It's mostly exertion and pain. Painful because of how terrible it is."
"Don't sell yourself short, Peter. You have a real talent." She sat down on the edge of my bed. "Do you remember when we were little and you used to pull my hair out straight, not so much that it hurt, and pretend it was guitar strings? We were, what? Seven and eight? I never complained about it. I thought it was hilarious. I would've let you do that all day."
"Well, I'm mediocre at best. I think I was better when I was eight. Your hair was always in tune."
She just sat and smiled at me. I looked over at the doorway nervously. Dottie put her hand on my knee. "Calm down, Peter. If you're looking for Aunt Dorothy, she's already gone home."
I looked at Dottie with bewilderment. "She went home?" I leaned back in my chair. "I thought for sure I was a dead man. Why did she leave?"
"She told me that I needed to talk to you first and that she trusted me to do the right thing. She really is an amazing woman. Did you know she was in a movie? 'The Return of' something or other. Some B-movie horror thing from the 70's. She didn't have a speaking part but she said she can call herself a professional actor. She made $26. See? The two of you have something in common: you're both artists."
I held up my hand. "Wait, wait. You were caught in my bed by our aunt and you talked about 40-year-old horror movies?" I stared at her in disbelief.
"Well, that's not all we talked about, of course."
"And...?"
"Well, we talked about how cold it is in this house. She said it was okay to use the heater for the next couple days, until it heats up again. She said Uncle Paul won tickets to a Clippers game..."
"Dottie! Stop being coy!"
Her smile left her face for just an instant but returned in full glory. "I'm sorry, Peter. Yes, we talked extensively about what she saw when she came looking for me."
"And?" I prompted.
"She didn't know you were naked and of course she never saw me touching you or, thank God, saw how you made me cross-eyed for a minute. What she did see, however, was our kiss."
"Oh Dottie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I should have had more control. I should have stopped before things got as far as they did."
"Peter, I don't regret anything we did last night." She rubbed my knee lightly, sending delightful signals to my brain. "I wouldn't change anything, even if I could. I've never felt so close to anyone in my life. Seriously," she said, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes, "if you knew how long I had wanted to kiss you, you'd be shocked."
"Me too, Dottie. It was amazing. But now everything is screwed up. Aunt Dorothy knows, which means soon Uncle Paul will know, then the twins and Carlie and Uncle Mike and Uncle Pat and Grandma. And if Carlie knows, by tomorrow everyone in your school will know. We'll be pariahs!"
"Calm down, Peter. Aunt Dorothy isn't going to say anything to anyone. You don't really think she would do something like that, do you?"
I slowly shook my head. "So what happened, then?"
"Well, the car ride to the store was a little uncomfortable, that's for sure. She just drove and I fiddled with the radio. She always lets me listen to my music when we're together, unlike someone else I know," she said, smiling at me. "Anyway, when we were in the parking lot at the store she just straight out asked me if we had had sex."
"Oh my God. What did you say?"
"What do you mean, what did I say? Obviously I said no. She said she saw me leaning into you and kissing you. She said it was apparent from the looks on both of our faces that it was no regular familial kiss."
"Dottie, I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone."
"No, it's okay. It's probably best that it was that way. At the time I was so terrified she was going to ask me the really tough questions because, you know, I'm a terrible liar. But she never did. She asked if it was mutual between the two of us. She just wanted to make sure there was no pressure. She told me to be careful. She told me to really think about what I'm doing. She told me to be smart and make good decisions. She also told me that she trusts you and she knows you'll do the right thing." She stood and walked closely to me. She slowly straddled my legs and put her arms over my shoulders. "But you know what she didn't tell me to do?"
I looked deeply into her entrancing eyes. "What?"
"She never told me I couldn't do this." She leaned forward and kissed me. It was a deep, soulful kiss, one that tingled from my toes to my head, making the rest of the world and all its cares slip away for a moment. That kind of therapy was much more powerful than any guitar could provide. I reached around and pulled her in tight to me while she nibbled on my lips. I let my mouth trail down to her neck and kissed it gently. Her hair smelled amazing and was making me feel pretty giddy and light-headed. I dropped my hands down and cupped her butt, eliciting a gasp from Dottie. She began to grind herself on my rapidly growing erection. Her thin yoga pants allowed her butt cheeks to grip and pull on my aching cock in a perfectly rhythmic way.
"Did you plan your wardrobe today just for this purpose?" I asked between my sounds of pleasure.
She smiled brightly. "That would've been very presumptuous of me, don't you think?" She never stopped her stroking. "I planned it for how you might like me to look today. I like how my butt looks in these pants." She reached back and put her hands over mine and squeezed. "I can tell you do, too."
