It's funny, but had it not been for the fall of communism, I would never have fucked my sister. In 1991, when democracy came to the eastern European country where my father was born, he decided to take us - me, my mother and my sister Mandy back there. The plan was for the four of us spent two weeks there, visiting relatives and exploring the country a bit. Then Mandy and I would fly London where we would stay for a couple of weeks before returning home.
Mandy was 23 at the time of the trip (eight years younger than me). Always pretty as a girl, she had grown into a beautiful young woman. She had thick, honey blonde hair which she kept cut fairly short, blue eyes and pale, perfect skin. She was always immaculately dressed, favouring clothing from the fifties (her apartment was furnished in fifties style as well). She also wore gold rimmed glasses, which I thought really suited her and made her look even more sophisticated. I was proud to have such an attractive sister.
The trip was the longest time I had spent with Mandy since I had left home in my early twenties. As it progressed, I became more and more entranced by my sister. I found myself gazing at her when she wasn't looking, admiring her slender, small breasted figure, wondering what she looked like naked. One day, finding myself alone in the room in an aunt's house which the four of had been given to sleep in, I found a pair of her panties in a bag of dirty washing and sniffed the crotch, getting a faint smell of cunt.
Arriving at the home of another relative of my father's, Mandy and I were given a room with a double bed to share. All day, the thought that I would be sleeping next to her that night hovered tantalisingly in my brain.
After a typical late night spent eating and drinking with the relatives, Mandy stood up and said she was going to bed. I said I would too. I went into the room we had been given, stripped down to T-shirt and underpants, got into bed and picked up a book. Mandy came in from the bathroom a few minutes later wearing a pair of green silk pajamas. She got into bed next to me. We talked jokingly for a little while about the day's events and the endless eccentricity of our European relatives, and then I turned the light off.
Mandy and I lay in bed with our backs to each other, so close I could feel the warmth of her body. My mind was a mass of conflicting emotions. How wonderful it would be to kiss my sister, to make love to her. But the idea was frightening too, and I felt a bit ashamed thinking about it. I wondered if she ever had similar thoughts about me. I knew she liked me, but did she like me in that way? Sex was one thing we had never really discussed.
Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep, and had confused dreams about turning over and embracing Mandy, touching her and starting to have sex with her, but something would happen and I would stop, then wake up in a sweat, then drift off again and have the same dream all over again. I got very little sleep that night.
As planned, Mandy and I took leave of our parents and caught a plane to London. We found a little apartment to stay in, a small room with two single beds, a cabinet, a TV set and not much else. This was Mandy's first trip to London and we spent the next few days doing the typical tourist things.
I knew a few people in London, including a girl called Justine whom I had worked with and had a brief affair with the previous year. We met up with Justine one afternoon for a few pints in her local pub, and she invited us to a party she was having the following Saturday.
When we arrived at Justine's flat at nine o'clock on Saturday night, there were about twenty people already there. The bathtub was full of bottles of beer and wine, and everybody was having a good time. Mandy doesn't usually drink much, and I've only ever seen her drunk on a couple of occasions, but she was getting quite tipsy on champagne. She was wearing a French-style, striped cotton, round-necked shirt and a short blue skirt, and looked lovely.
Towards the end of the evening, Mandy I were sitting at the kitchen table, both fairly plastered, talking about our childhood. At one point she told me how upset she had been when I left home - she had cried for two nights she said. I thought that was very sweet and I put my arms around her and gave her a hug. My lips brushed against her hair and I could smell the perfume she was wearing. It felt good holding her like that.
Things get a little hazy after that, but perhaps an hour later we stumbled out the front door and down the street, heading for a mini-cab office that Justine had told us about. Mandy was walking, looking up at the stars - it was a very clear night, and tripped, but I managed to catch her in my arms. I'll never quite know how it happened now, but the next thing I knew I was kissing her - and she was kissing me back! For minutes I was lost in a revery as our tongues met. My hand moved instinctively under the leather coat she was wearing and cupped her small round breast - I could feel the lace of the bra cup through the cotton material of her shirt.
The reality of what we were doing hit both of us, I think, at the same time. We stopped kissing and looked at each other. My heart was beating fast and I'm sure Mandy's was as well. Her blue eyes were wide open. "What's happening?" she whispered.
"I don't know," I said. But we kept embracing.
After kissing again briefly we continued on our way to the mini-cab office, and caught a cab back to our apartment. We sat in the back of the cab, my arm around Mandy's narrow shoulders, and didn't say a word for the twenty minutes of so that the journey took.
Reaching our destination, I paid the driver and we caught the rickety lift up our floor. As we were going up in it Mandy wasn't looking at me. I unlocked the door and Mandy walked into the apartment, which was pleasantly warm from the central heating. She took off her coat and hung it on the hook behind the front door and I did the same with mine. She sat down at the end of the bed. I went and sat down next to her.
She looked at me. Her cheeks were flushed. "Well," she said, "What happens now?"
"What do you want to happen now?" I asked.
I didn't give her a chance to answer though. Putting my arms around her, I began to kiss her again. My hands moved under her shirt and I felt the smooth skin on her back, her thin shoulder blades and the strap of her bra. "I love you," I said.
