Secret Lust

We'd spent most of Christmas Day waiting for the night. But then around 3 pm her phone rang, and indicating that it was important, she sprang up from the couch in the living room. She was on the phone for at least five minutes until reentering. Her energy was a bit depleted from earlier in the trip, earlier in the day.

"Well, I've got some bad news, big brother."

My sister looked very disappointed. "I thought I was going to stay for several days, but I've got to fly home for work at the crack of dawn."

We'd been waiting for the cover of nightfall, but my parents were momentarily out of the house. Ordinarily, on most Christmases, they'd be out visiting with friends for hours, but instead they'd gotten a hankering to take a lengthy drive. Constant COVID cabin fever was getting to them in a major way.

I couldn't fault my sister. She was a nurse at a hospital, a first responder, and the virus had hit a high plateau back home. They needed all hands-on deck. Fortunately, they we reimbursing her for the cost of airfare. She wasn't exactly thrilled with the news. She'd have to take the first plane out of the city at 5 am the next morning, wake up at 3:30 am before then, then fly six hours back to the West Coast with a layover in Dallas/Ft. Worth.

"I guess we've got to make today count," I said, equal regret in my voice.

I reached around to grab her closely to me. Holding her tightly in her arms, our lips met, and my hands slid down to her ass. The news had kind of kicked things down a gear. We decided to make love slowly, gently, deliberately. We didn't even bother to get undressed first. My hands cupped her clothed breasts as I'd done before, but squeezed them, pinching the hard nipples between thumb and forefinger.

"Oh yeah," she moaned. "Rub them raw."

I complied for several minutes before rubbing her up and down, from shoulders to ankles. I stopped briefly at her ass cheeks, squeezing them with about as much gentle pressure as her tits. No one gives you a script about how to have sex. Part of it is instinct, part of it is experience, and part of it is plain intuition. I had all three in spades. I always had, but I was batting a thousand with my sister, the woman I wanted the most.

She sprawled out on the bed in the guest bedroom, shirtless, braless, soon to be naked, wearing only red satin panties. This room was supposed to be mine but ended up mostly being ours. She let out a great stretch and a yawn before surprising me by licking my right nipple into her mouth and ever so gently twisting my left nipple between her own thumb and forefinger. Curious. Most women don't know how to do that. She was full of surprises.

I rubbed down her stomach, pushing down past her happy trail into her moist vagina. We were still going nice and slow and she followed my pacing as I rested inside her for a full moment, feeling her grow wetter and wetter by the second. Then, as I'd done earlier, I rubbed around and around her cunt in a circular motion, plunging slightly deeper with each attempt. I got two fingers up to my knuckles, then three, then barely, somehow, four.

"See if you can fist me," she said. She reached over to the edge of the bed and pulled out the lube again. This was a new one on me. Sure, I'd thought about it, but no woman had ever suggested it before then. So, I coated my whole right hand in lube, making sure to hold my fingers tightly together. Miraculously, it worked. I got every finger inside her.

She seemed as surprised as I had been. "Woah. I didn't think you were going to be able to do that. No one's ever been able to fist me before. Not really, anyway."

She corrected herself. "Actually, that's not right. There was this girl in nursing school I fooled around with for the benefit of the guy I was dating, but she had such small hands. Her hands were so small she got all the way up to her wrist."

I was certainly not that dainty. I had man hands, and they stopped inching forward about halfway up. So, I twisted and turned as she literally salivated, drooling slightly. It didn't bother me. It spurred me on, but I didn't want to cause her any pain, so I stopped where she was most comfortable, producing at least one orgasm and maybe two.

I felt accomplished. We were made for each other. We were the perfect combination. The brother and sister part could be forgiven, but the immense distance that separated us could not. After I was satisfied with my work, I washed my fingers clean and dry and embraced her on the bed. She rubbed up against me, those breasts pressed against my left shoulder.

And then we started making promises to each other.

I began. "I promise you I'll call you every night. If it's this good in person, I know it will have to be good over the phone."

She agreed. "And if work gets boring, I might send you a sexy text to keep you primed and ready."

There was really only one latent issue that concerned me a little. "What if sex with my sister was as good as it gets? What if I snagged another wife or girlfriend and brought her along one holiday season?" I might find myself royally shamed or divorced if my new partner ever found out. Not like I would ever tell anyone what Sis and I had been up to. Not even my therapist, who was bound to disapprove.

I remembered reading a story where a brother and sister got married but had to put up with the prudish attitudes of the small town where they both grew up. Even in big towns, most people wouldn't approve, and we'd have to find ways around it to be together. And what if she found a boyfriend or husband? In some ways, this had been the best thing that had ever happened to me, but in another way, it presented some serious challenges.

But what I was sure of was that I didn't love her. Or, at least, not in THAT way. I lusted after her. I wanted her body, but I'd been married once before. I knew what that entailed, and I wasn't quite ready yet to engage myself in the eternal compromise and push/pull that invariably becomes every marriage. It was best for us to remain fuck buddies. She certainly wasn't acting like she was falling hard for me, either.

We were too different in reality. She was flighty and indecisive, while I was resolute and scheming. She had a thousand acquaintances that ensured she was never alone for any moment, and I needed lots of time to myself. She flew by the seat of her pants. I planned everything out four months ahead of schedule. We would have made an awful couple, but somehow, we were just kinky enough in the right way that we made for perfection in the bedroom.

Before she drifted off to an early sleep, we began to discuss plans about when to meet again in person. She owned her own house in Washington State, where I would always be welcome. The question then became when she'd be free to see me. If she wasn't working, which was frequently, she was a world traveler. Her latest excursion had been to Madagascar, a trip that had required nearly a full day on a plane and three separate stop overs. That would have exhausted me.

But she was a nurse, after all, graced with the excess energy to stand on her feet for hours at a time, and, when she was younger, party all night, too. I'd always wanted a girl like that on my arm but ran into similar issues. For one thing, hippie boys tended to not possess an inch of body fat. I wasn't overweight, but if I'd been a woman, I'd have been dubbed "curvy".

There was no way, save developing a habit on uppers that I'd ever lose enough weight to fit into the categories these women wanted. And though I took my share of chances, I wasn't satisfied living a peripatetic existence, crashing on couch after couch, with no solid place to lay my head at night. I liked my own space and my own bed, and though I'd never had a lot of money, I had a few possessions of my own that I valued.

I knew my sister well enough to understand why she'd taken those naked pics and video. Rent. But in those days, before she retooled and got a great paying job, she lived a Peter Pan existence like so many people in their twenties do in the Pacific Northwest. She worked three days a week as a waitress and lived with four other people in an old, cramped apartment. When it got cold in winter, no one had enough money to pay for heating oil, so they shivered to sleep, night after night.

Yet, knowing all of this, all of this difference, we were somehow dynamite in the sack. Must be some kind of biological imperative, but I'd hate to see our children. Best that we keep this secret lust between the sheets for as long as we felt it benefitted both of us. Who knows? We could keep this going for decades. We had plenty of time to plan it out and for a moment in my mind's eye I could see her straddling me sporting crow's feet and grey hair. She'd be older and I'd be older, but did it really matter?

She thought she might have some time off in early August and I thought that time would work for me. Granted, that was months away, but for sex this good, I could have waited forever. I I woke up the next morning around 9 am, knowing she'd left hours before. Had this really happened? I couldn't tell whether it had been an elaborate fantasy or the God's honest truth. And it was just beginning.