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.