Sweet Nectar

I’ll start by quoting a great opening:

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

"I won't tell you that, but I'll tell you about the worst thing that ever happened to me."

-Ghost Story

Instead, I'll do the reverse of that.

I won't tell you about the worst thing that ever happened to me.

But I will tell you about some of the good things that have happened to me.

Let me tell you about my first taste of the sweet nectar of family love.

I was raised in my grandparent's house after my mother had abandoned me.

My sister, two years older, was bounced through foster homes until my father remarried and his new wife insisted on taking over parenthood to get out of the child support payments.

By then we were teenagers.

She graduated the next year and stayed home while she went to college.

I stayed with my grandparents, and graduated only a year after her – I was the nerd of the family.

Each weekend, I visited my father - he had a ranch.

Really, I went there to be with my sister.

She had always seemed to enjoy taking care of me and gave me anything I wanted. Amongst my hobbies was reading. I had always read materials that were intended for older audiences. My sister had given me a book and told me to hide it and not read it until I got home. That was my first temptation.

The book was about a professional bowler and his very explicit exploits during his life on the professional circuit. I stayed up late using a flashlight under the covers to read about the assignations this fellow gleefully accepted in his wanderings.

On one of my weekend visits, my sister was recuperating from a twisted ankle and a fever she had contracted. There was an important horse show, my father and step-mother desperately to attend, so they left me to take care of my sister. Being alone with her led to my second temptation and what this story is about.

My sister asked me to come into her bedroom and talk to her so she wouldn’t be lonely and bored. Once there, she asked me if I liked the book she gave me. I assured her that I did very much and dragged it out of my pack, showing her the worn edges and how much I had read. She asked me to sit next to her and read my favorite part.

Obediently, I sat on the floor next to her bed and opened the book. I turned to a scene where the bowler had just returned to his room after losing an exhausting match. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was still wrapped in a towel when someone knocked on his door. Without thinking, he simply walked to the door and opened it.

Outside was a woman he had seen at the tournament. Only, there she had been wearing clothes. She asked if he was going to invite her in, or make her stand there until the hallway filled with fans. He pulled her into the room and shut the door. Of course, by doing so, his towel fell and they both stood there with nothing between them but the air.

At this point, my sister asked if I had ever seen a woman with nothing on before. I told her that I had never seen a girl in a bikini, let alone naked, not even in a picture, though I knew that there were magazines with pictures of naked girls. She asked me if I would like to see a naked girl. I said, sure, not knowing what she had in mind.

Then she pulled the covers back, showing me she was wearing nothing at all.

I don’t know how long I simply stared at her glorious body, taking in every detail, etching them into my memory for all time. Her pale skin was like a freshly prepared canvass for the masterpiece that I saw. Her budding breasts had perfectly rounded nipples the color of fresh raspberries and made my mouth water. She was neither skinny nor fat, but simply perfect in her proportions. As my gaze followed the curve of her hip, she rolled up on her side, letting me see the triangle of brown curls that matched those falling over her shoulders.

She raised her right leg and pulled her foot behind the other knee, opening the window for me to see the mystery that all boys wonder about. That was the first time I saw her moist opening beckon me. She asked me what I thought of her, but my voice was lost somewhere a thousand miles away. The room seemed to be spinning outside the center of my focus and my heart was as loud as a bass drum pounding a driving beat as I tried to stand on my unconnected legs.

As I fell towards her body, she pulled me to her and kissed me before I blacked-out.

I awoke from my faint in my sister’s embrace. She was wiping my hair back from my face and shaking me. When I opened my eyes she kissed me all over my face and squeezed me harder. As I tried to lift myself into a sitting position, I realized she was holding me against her naked body. I’m sure I blushed quite brightly because she chuckled and gave me one last hug before letting go. But she didn’t make any effort to cover herself up. And I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her beautiful flesh.

She asked me to continue reading, handing me the book I’d dropped.

In the book, the woman walked the bowler backwards to the edge of the bed where he abruptly sat. She continued and pressed her breasts into his face. He wondered how the headlines might read – bowler suffocated by unknown mammaries. Then he wondered what better way there could be to die – at least it would be a happy way to go.

My sister sat up, then leaned close to me and asked if I wondered what that felt like. I simply stared at her and swallowed as she pulled me against her chest. She was not endowed with pendulous breasts, like the woman in the story, but she definitely felt like heaven against my face.

I couldn’t help myself; I had to kiss the soft mounds – one, then the other, over and over. She moaned, lightly, then lifted my head and kissed me on the mouth.

Her lips were completely different from where I had just left off kissing her. They were soft, and supple, but somehow firmer, and more demanding. When she ran her tongue over my lips, something I had never felt before, I broke the kiss, thinking I was somehow in the way. She still had one hand behind my head, so I didn’t get far. She smiled at me and asked if I liked kissing her.

My response in the affirmative made her eyes twinkle all the more.

I had developed a painful problem in my pants. I was hard and bent, restricted by the way I was sitting. I couldn’t help but glance down at my crotch – and I couldn’t help but notice hers again too, which did nothing to relief my distress. For some reason, I began to sweat.

Her gaze followed mine, first to my lap, then hers. She kissed me again, this time dragging her tongue across my lip. When she started to unbutton my shirt, I asked her why she was doing that. She said she did not want to turn the heater down, and since I was sweating, she thought I might be more comfortable with my shirt open. Then she told me to keep reading.

In the story, the woman had decided to let the man breathe by letting him lean back enough for her to unbutton his shirt. My sister continued to do the same to me. When she was through, she helped him get his arms out of the sleeves. My sister did likewise. Now I was sitting there bare chested. The woman in the story began to kiss the bowler on the side of his face and his ears – then she sucked an earlobe into her mouth and swirled her tongue around, poking it into his ear. My sister was making it hard to read since she was doing the same thing to me. When she poked her tongue in my ear, I had an immediate reaction and I tried to adjust my position on the bed.

She pulled me down next to her. I could feel the skin of her breast against my arm. We just laid there for a minute while she brought her face to mine and lightly kissed my lips again. Then she sat up and leaned down and pushed my shoes off my feet and pulled my socks off. I would have let her do anything to me. When she turned around and crawled over me she told me in a hoarse voice to keep reading.

This was not an easy thing for me to do. I was laying on my back in my jeans and underwear but nothing else. My chest and feet were bare and I could feel my sister’s toes against my heels and her nipples grazing my stomach and then my chest as she crawled up my body. Laying flat on my back should have made my pants more comfortable, but instead I felt like I was going to explode. My mind was racing franticly, racing back and forth between wanting her so badly I thought I would die and being afraid it was only a dream.

*****

She took my chin in her mouth, wetting it with her tongue. She then laid down on me and simply said, read.

I propped the book where we both could see it, my sister following along. In the story, the woman had straddled the man and she pushed him back down on the bed. She proceeded to scoot down his body, trailing kisses until her face was against his manhood. She kissed up his shaft until she reached the tip, where pearls of clear lubricant oozed from his slit. She licked the head, relishing the taste.

All this time, my sister remained on top of me, watching the page as I read. I knew she must feel my hardness pressing against my pants, but she kept watching the book.

The woman in the story then took the man’s shaft into her mouth, her hair falling to hide her face and her handiwork. The bowler groaned as she bathed him and sucked on his shaft.

She did things to him that I could barely imagine, causing him, and me, to get harder that either of us thought possible.

My sister started moving her hand over my chest, rubbing me, flicking her thumb over my nipple. I did not know before then that a man’s nipple would react so to being touched. But mine did, and I know my voice started to sound a little huskier.

In the story, the bowler stopped the woman, and pulled her up onto the bed with him and kissed her. I stopped for a moment and looked at my sister. She needed no more of a cue than that to kiss me.

We kissed for a while – how long I do not know. I only know that it was wonderful.

When I returned to the story, the bowler had pushed the woman onto her back and told her that what was good for the goose was just as good for the gander. Then he proceeded to kiss her on her neck and down her chest, stopping to give special attention to her nipples, and then further down to her belly button, and through her curls to his intended target.

This time, as I read, my sister started to wiggle on top of me. Not sideways, this would have made it hard to maintain our positions. But up and down, in place, sending a message that was impossible to ignore straight into my body. Between her nipples which had hardened and felt like pencil erasers against my skin, and what she was doing to my already hard flesh, I could feel my own wetness as my underpants moved with her.

I could not help but think of having seen my sister’s moist place while I read the book to her. When she snaked her hand between us and began to open my jeans, I stopped reading. All I could see in my mind right then was an image of her hand holding me down there. The image was so real I could feel it in spite of the fact that was only just now fumbling with my zipper.

I reached down and opened my zipper for her. She immediately ran her fingers and her palm over my manhood. I reached up to kiss her and she stuck her tongue in my mouth. An electrical shock ran through my body, from my mouth to her nipples against my chest, to her hand massaging my shaft. I felt the pulse shoot through me as I came hard, filling my briefs and her hand with my hot, sticky semen.

I fell back and gulped a lungful of air, then put my head against her neck as she laughed and kissed the top of my head.

*****

As I caught my breath, my sister scooted back onto her knees and pulled my pants off without any resistance from me. I could do nothing, my knees were shaking so badly you’d have think I was freezing. But my skin was so hot it felt like I was on fire. In one swift movement, she yanked my underpants off. She used it to clean my shaft and her hand.

She resumed her position on top of me. Now, we were both naked. She felt cool to my heated flesh. Yet feeling her against me did nothing to cool me down.

She told me to keep reading and I fumbled with the book to get back where I had left off reading. As I started to read, she began to nuzzle my neck.

In the story, the man used his lips and his nose to push a trail through the jungle of her curls, searching for the cave where there was sure to be treasure. When he found the opening, it was slick with her natural juices. He kissed her lips and tasted her sweet nectar. His hunger made it hard for him to go slowly, but he restrained himself as best he could, savoring her lips as an appetizer, nibbling and sucking each side until he had spread her slickness from bottom to top.

My sister was getting turned-on by the story and began sliding herself against my re-hardened shaft. I could not tell if the moisture I felt was some she missed before, or if she was adding her own lubrication.

In the story, the bowler kissed her square on her swelling lips and stuck his tongue between them. The woman moaned and pulled his head tighter against her. He explored her inner lips with the tip of his tongue and sought out her inner entrance. Using his fingers to spread her open, he found his target and pushed his tongue against the tight muscle, then clamped his lips against her and sucked as much of her flesh into his mouth as he could manage. At this the woman bucked against his face, but he held onto her ass and continued to poke and suck her wet pussy.

My sister took hold of my hand, the one that wasn’t holding the book, and put it against her breast. I stopped reading and stared as she rubbed her nipple with my palm. She told me to squeeze her nipple, and I complied. It was hard, so much harder than I imagined it could be. The conical shape seemed to gain a pearly cast as I rubbed it with my thumb and finger. She kissed me briefly and then told me to keep reading as she continued to rub against my body.

In the story, the bowler was not through with his ministrations. He replaced his tongue with his finger and wiggled it up inside her tight hole. But he did not stop using his tongue. As he pushed and pulled her desire with his finger, he began to pay more attention to the little bud that had appeared at the top of her lips. He started with simple kisses, teasing the side and top of the bud, licking between each kiss. Then, as he pushed a second finger inside her, he sucked her clit into his mouth and used his lips to press down at the same time. This time, she almost bucked him off her body, but he used his strong arms to hold on as he found the rough spot inside her tunnel. He kept up his attack, lavishing her most sensitive spots with rough tongue and finger. Reaching her peak, she continued to buck against this sweet torture until she had no more energy and collapsed. He felt her orgasm subside and slid up her body to kiss her, letting her taste her own nectar on his lips.

By now I was fully hard again and knew I must be leaking some of my own fluid, but my shaft was slick its entire length from my sister’s excitement.

She looked at me, her eyes shining, and asked me if I wanted to see her pussy. I would never deny my sister anything. She rolled off me and spread her legs and told me to come look.

How can I possibly convey how beautiful my sister was as she lay on her back next to me, gloriously naked, damp from her excitement, smiling at me, her eyes sparkling, as she ran her tongue across her open lips? She spread her legs, nudging me with her knee. I raised my body to let her pull her foot under me and as she did so, she ran her toes across my manhood, making it stiffen harder with her velvet caress.

I tumbled in-between her legs and almost bumped into her groin. She giggled and took my head in her hands and brought her wet slit to my mouth. Without thinking, I kissed her there. Lightly the first time, then stronger with each kiss, trying to remember what had happened in the story I had been reading.

I touched her lovely lips; they felt as strong if not more so than her mouth. She had trimmed her hair so that it stopped just above her pussy making it completely smooth. I looked in amazement as I saw her muscles ripple while my ragged breath teased her skin and the edges glistened with their own pearlescence.

It was unthinkable not to taste the moist folds before me, so I touched my tongue at the lowest point, where the wettest spot shone like a beacon before me. The flavor was tangy and sweet at the same time. I had tasted nothing that could compare to the unique delicacy that expanded at my touch. Greedily I ran my tongue from the base to the top, sucking like I had a straw to pull in the liquor of her sex, while she pushed her lips against my mouth.

I looked up at her and she asked me to do it again. I would have done it without being asked. This time I wanted to go slower, so I could taste more of her. I started at the same point, but her lips parted as though under their own power letting my tongue go inside to taste a stronger and slicker liquid. My upper lip slid inside her folds and I probed deeper into her body, delighting in the feel of her inner flesh and kissing her like she had kissed my mouth.

Time was meaningless to me while I kissed and sucked on her lips and her moistness. I worked my way from side to side as I moved my mouth up each fold, spreading her wetness on my lips and back on her. She was moving her hips in a slow circle making it feel like I was on a mechanical bronco, but I was not to be unseated from this ride. When I got to the top this time, I felt a firm little stop that made her jump when I ran my tongue over it. I glanced at her for just a moment, her eyes were squeezed shut and she looked almost like she was in pain, but she told me not to stop.

I went back to my ministrations, intending to move backwards to my starting point. Then I remembered that in the story, the bowler had pushed inside her with his finger, so I felt where my tongue had been before and searched for a deeper place. This additional stimulation was interrupted when she reached down to my hand and pushed it further down and into the tunnel I sought.

The entrance was stronger than any part I had felt so far, yet it seemed to have a hunger of its own as my finger was sucked into her depths. She arched her back and pushed against my hand. I was enthralled with her response and pulled my finger out then let her muscles suck me back in. This went on several times until I my mouth began to get dry. My sister’s pussy sounded as wet as she felt to me and I lowered my lips to drink from her fount once more.

As I lapped the flow from my sister’s body, I felt her tunnel begin to loosen, allowing me to explore around her inner cavity. Now my sister’s movements were as much from side to side as they were up and down, making it a tougher ride. But we were both good with or without a saddle and I stayed with her no matter which way she bucked. I began to notice a spot inside her where there seemed to be a round hard area about the size of a dime. This intrigued me and I felt around the edge of the spot.

Suddenly she bucked harder than I expected and let out a squeal that made me wonder if I had hurt her. My lips were certainly bruised, and my hand, trapped by the grip of her muscles pushed against me as though trying to spit my finger out. I didn’t want to hurt her and pulled against her with no more success than I could push. She grabbed my hand and held it in place as I watched tremors ripple across her body. She tossed her head from side to side and tried to force my finger deeper into her body, but her muscles were keeping me from going either way.

So I tried to move just the tip and brushed against the same spot. When I did, she arched again and my hand filled with fluid. It was almost clear, but not quite, and I touched my tongue to it just to see if it was what I had tasted before. It was, and I slurped some into my mouth.