I'm not really sure how to begin this. How does one begin explaining that they fucked their sister? Or that it was the hottest sex of their life? How do you explain that without people looking at you like you're a sicko? Or looking at you like you watched too much Game of Thrones? Well I'm not sure how to really begin it so I'll just plunge right in. Pardon the pun.
My name is Greg. My sister's name is Kate. We were until recently, your typical brother-sister siblings. She's one year younger than me, so you can imagine how much we get along. During childhood and especially our teenage years, getting along was virtually impossible. As much as we'd have our stupid sibling rivalry crap, we always loved each other. Protected each other. Warned each other when we might be dating someone that was a piece of shit (not that we took each other's warnings all that seriously at the time) and our mother loved that we could fight all day after school and then sit down and be perfectly happy to each other. You can't choose family. And family's all you got so make it work somehow.
The thing is, as a man I knew Kate was hot but because she was my sister I never once thought of her in a sexual way. I would deck my idiot friends who suggested that I didn't need a girlfriend because my sister and I would take care of each other. Same goes for Kate and her friends. Kate is a hottie, lean slim, perky hot tits, decent legs, natural blonde hair that just about all her friends were jealous of. I'm the same. Natural blonde, lean and strong. We both have blue eyes. Our parents had good genes. Neither Kate nor I wanted for male or female attention during high school. Most of my friends hit on her at some point. More than a few of her friends wanted my cock at some point. We never let it bug us. When she was sixteen I warned her which of my friends were trustworthy and which ones were players. She did the same for me, which ones were good girls and which ones were bitchy cunts. But never, not even during all the embarrassing teenage hormonal crap did I ever get hard for her.
So now we're both early twenties. Our father died when we were kids, mom raised us alone. Maybe that was part of the reason we were able to forget our fights, no matter how nasty they were. Because we didn't want to put mom through any more difficulty than she was facing. Raising two kids on her own, on a mere assistant's salary, was no easy feat. But now we both had jobs and were able to help her. We both still lived at home. Moving out is fucking insanely expensive. And while my friends are good friends I have no intention of living with any of them. Same goes for Kate. So a few weeks ago our mom got a phone call from her sister, our Aunt Mable who told us she was getting married in Las Vegas. I rolled my eyes so hard they hurt and Kate was trying not to scoff. Aunt Mable has had 5 husbands in me and my sister's lifetimes. So news of another wedding, in Las Vegas of all places, was ho-hum. But my mother promised we'd all go.
We pooled our money and got time off from our jobs. Booked some rooms and some cramped seats on a coach plane. We arrived in Sin City and made for our hotels. My mother had her own room. Me and my sister were splitting a two bedroom. Upon arriving I was the first one out of the car, snatching the room keys from the desk clerk then and bounding to my room, intending to snap up whichever bed was better. So when I opened the door and saw one bed I stopped dead.
Kate pushed past me and then she also stopped dead. "Why's there only one bed?" she asked.
"We booked two right?" I asked aloud.
"We did!" Kate dropped her stuff and we both went down to the clerk, who informed us that we had indeed booked a two bedroom. But then he told us that that was for next month. We had gotten the date wrong! So naturally Kate and turned upon each other and snarled like angry wolverines for about ten minutes until the desk clerk told us he'd refund our money but we'd have to pay for the single bed. We went back upstairs unhappy. "So we're sharing a bed," sighed Kate.
"Yes," I sighed as well, none to happy about it.
"You'll make do," said our mother before vanishing into her room."
"Make do," grumbled Kate as we went into ours. "With his snoring, how I am supposed to make do?"
"Oh please, go look in the mirror if you wanna talk snoring! You're worse than me!"
"Am not!"
"'Am not'?" I mocked her response. "What are you ten again?"
"Fuck you!"
"Now you sound sixteen! You're getting there sis!"
And thus we insulted each other until our mother came over and told us that if our fighting caused us to get kicked out, she'd be staying with Aunt Mable and we'd be sleeping in the car. That quieted us down. We passed through the rest of the day in relative silence other than some occasional grumbling and snippets at each other. When night came, we played rock paper scissors to see who got to shower and use the bathroom first. I won, thank the Lord! Kate has been know to take nearly an hour in the shower and another hour on her hair! I was in and out, clean, teeth brushed and ready for bed in less than thirty minutes. As I predicted she took forever. Women taking forever to get ready for something is no secret but why they would spend so much time getting ready for BED is beyond me. I had flipped on the TV and was watching some late night show when she finally came out.
Her bed attire was a tank top and panties. Nothing special. Why would she wear anything special right? She got into bed on the right side. We'd played rock paper scissors for that too but I'd lost that one. I did get one good thing as she got into bed. As you'd expect she laid down on her side and before she pulled up the blanket I got a good view of her hot ass. Then I scolded myself for looking at my sister that way and returned my attention to the TV.
"Can you turn that off?" she moaned irritably.
"It helps me go to sleep."
"There's not going to be any easy going to sleep for either of us tonight," she said shrewdly. "So please can you turn it off?"
