Helping Sis Pick A Dress

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter Four

"We sort of need to talk about the weird, preachy part," I said.

"Why?" she moaned.

"Because you’re my sister, Cat. It was incest. If anybody found out, they'd arrest me and we'd probably never get to see each other again. Our parents would be devastated. It's a big deal, Cathy!"

"I know all that, you idiot," she snapped. "I'm not an imbecile."

"Well pardon me for being worried about it," I said, all snarky-like.

"Okay, you can worry. But I'm not going to worry, because I know how to be careful and keep a secret!" she hissed.

"You don't get it," I said, my voice intense. "While you were gone, all I could think about was wanting to do it again, and how if any guy ever puts a finger on you I'll have to kill him and bury his body in the woods somewhere. I kept thinking of how fantastic it would be to be able to sleep with you all night and stuff like that. You may not be scarred for life, but I sure am!"

"Finally," she said.

I blinked.

"Finally what?" I asked.

"Finally you say something I can agree with."

I blinked some more.

"Which part?" I asked.

"I'm fine with you wanting to kill any guy who touches me. You can't actually kill them, but I'm happy that you want to. I'll have to keep going out on dates, because it would look weird if I didn't. I can get away with not having a boyfriend. I can blame that on Dad. But I have to at least go on dates. You won't have to worry, though, because the only guy who has touching-Cathy-rights is you. I'd love it if you could sleep with me all night, except that you snore and the bed isn't big enough. But I love it that you want to do that."

"Cathy," I moaned. "We can't keep doing that."

"Of course we can," she said. "That's our business and nobody else's. Nobody's going to know. We can't sleep together every night, but we can make love, sometimes. And we're going to make love, Bobby. You don't get to do that to me, and make me feel that way, and then just take it away. You don't get to do that, Bobby!"

She had taken another step towards me and her right hand had formed into a claw. I imagined that claw fastening onto my balls, ripping them off my body and I covered my crotch with both hands.

"Okay!" I blurted. It was purely defensive, but I said it.

"Okay?" She required confirmation. And, after everything she'd said, it was obvious that she wasn't going to let it go. In a sense, I felt relief, because half the problem wasn't really a problem. It was like I had stepped on somebody's toe and said, "Ooops, I'm so sorry!" and the person said, "Doesn't matter. I'm wearing steel-toed shoes."

"Okay," I said. "But we still have to talk about this."

"We are talking about this," she sighed, like she was talking to a five-year-old.

"Right," I said.

"Now," she went on, "about this period thing."

I stopped her with a hand gesture.

"I'm over that. The internet says it has tons of likes."

She gaped at me.

"While you were gone I did some surfing. Believe it or not, there are people who say menstrual sex is great for lots of reasons."

"Eww," she said. It was an abbreviated eww, though, like she felt obligated to say it, but didn't really feel it all that much.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Last night you were telling me it was no big deal."

"You were freaking out," she said.

"I was," I admitted. "But I'm not anymore. Remember how you said you didn't cramp? They talked about that online. A lot of women like having menstrual sex because it eases their cramps."

"Really?"

"Didn't you call that a bonus?"

"You were freaking out," she said. "I was trying to calm you down. I didn't actually know having sex would do that."

"Well, I'm calm now. Except for the incest thing."

"Do you love me?" she asked.

I blinked. I wasn't used to talking about this stuff.

"Do you?" she insisted.

"Yes," I said. It felt odd saying that to the girl I had been in competition with for years, but at the same time I felt so giddy that I thought I might float up in the air. "Yes!" I repeated.

"I feel something for you that I've never felt for another human being," she said. "Why do you think I let you put it in me?"

"It doesn't feel like you let me do anything," I said. "It still feels like I raped you."

"I told you, you didn't rape me," she groaned.

"Okay, then, what happened?"

"So you really can't remember? I don't get it," she said.

"It's true. What is there to get?"

"We talked and you got boners for me and I got to look at you and we were naked together. And you groped me and fingered me. We even talked about having sex, and about Crystal and David and you don't remember doing it?"

"I honestly think I went crazy for a little bit," I said. "I remember kissing you and feeling like I was suddenly in an alternate reality, and then I remember being in you and moving and realizing what was going on, but between the kissing and the being in you part is a big empty blur."

"I remember all of it," she sighed.

"Well share, then," I moaned.

She looked at me.

"We started kissing, and it was amazing. I've kissed a lot of boys, but it was never like that. I felt like you might inhale me, somehow. And you sucked my nipples and I thought I was going to pee, it felt so good. Then there was more kissing and you got on top of me and you were kissing me and kind of trying to fuck me, you know, moving your hips that way, except you weren't in me. So I opened my legs and let you rub all against me down there, but you still didn't go in me, so I reached and found your cock. It was so strange, because somehow I knew right where to put it, and I did that, and you went all the way in me in like half a second. I couldn't breathe for a few seconds, but it didn't hurt or anything. I was just kind of shocked, you know? But it felt fantastic. It was like you went from rubbing all over the outside with your cock, to rubbing all over the inside with it. And I started to breathe again and you were going crazy, pumping really fast. It takes me ages to cum when I rub myself, but with your cock in me and your whole body rubbing, I came so fast it made me dizzy. And then you groaned and I felt this delicious ball of warmth inside me, and I got confused because I thought you were shooting, but then I realized my period had started. It never started like that before. It was weird."

"I sucked your nipples?" I asked, trying hard to remember doing that.

"A lot. I love that so much."

"And you put it in you?"

"Uh huh. The first time I touched it was to put it in me. That was weird, too. It felt really different than it looks."

"I remember kind of coming to, and realizing I was in you and was fucking you," I said. "But before that, all I remember is kissing you."

"You must have done stuff by instinct," she said. "You were definitely trying to fuck before I put you in me. That felt good, too, but I knew I had to have more."

"Because David and Crystal did more," I suggested.

"No, you idiot. Because I wanted to do more."

"With me," I sighed.

"Yeah, well, I guess you weren't the only one who went crazy."

We took a break to fix lunch. My restlessness was gone. It was too obvious that Cathy was okay, and not warped in any way by what had happened. I also felt a lot better, knowing for sure I hadn't forced anything. I was a little freaked out that she had put me in her. Okay, freaked out isn't the right word. I guess excited is a better description. I got hard while we were making sandwiches, as I watched her move around. I got really hard. I started thinking about telling her I was hard, and wondering how she would react. Would she drop her sandwich and say, "Let's go!" and take me back to her bedroom for some hot sex? Or would she just smile and think about how much she owned me right now. She could use sex to get me to do anything in the world, because I would do anything in the world if she'd let me have sex with her again.

She was halfway through her sandwich, and mine only had one bite out of it when I realized how preoccupied I was with all this. My bite of ham and cheese sandwich was just mush in my mouth. I swallowed and looked at her. She was examining her sandwich, deciding where to take the next bite. Suddenly her eyes swung over to pin their stare to mine.

"You've got a boner, don't you," she said. It wasn't a question.

I swallowed again. It wouldn't do any good to lie. This was a new Cathy, a Cathy I was no longer sure how to read. She might actually come over and feel the front of my pants. I nodded.

She grinned.

"This is so cool. I give my big brother boners!"

"You're not supposed to be happy about that," I pointed out.

She sat back.

"How old am I?"

"Fifteen," I responded.

"Normally, I'd remind you I'm closer to sixteen than fifteen," she said, "but let's go with fifteen. So I have four years of school left, and then four years of college before I can start thinking about finding some guy to fall in love with and get married and all that. That's eight years of not having sex with anybody who might misunderstand what that means and get all clingy and all that. Before last night, that meant not having sex at all for the next eight years. You, however, have made my life a lot brighter, because now I do have somebody to have sex with for the next eight years."

"If we have sex for eight years I'll get you pregnant two or three times," I groaned.

"Not if we're careful."

"Careful how?"

"Well, we could have safe sex right now, for example," she said.

If I hadn't already been hard, it would have happened in three seconds.

"You want to help me pick out a dress for my next date?"

"That won't be for a whole week," I pointed out.

"So, I get ready early," she said.

"Do you want to?" I asked. I knew what I meant. Did she?

"Oh, I want to," she sighed. She pinched her nipples through her shirt.

She did know.

I was to find out that "helping her pick a dress" now meant getting naked together. It was kind of funny, in one sense, because she had way better control over her body than I did over mine. Take for example how, as soon as she got into her room, she just stripped naked and did a little pose for me, with this half-smile on her lips. The way she took off her clothes made it look like they just fell off of her.

I, on the other hand, took five minutes to get out of my clothes, primarily because my fingers wouldn't work very well, and I kept getting parts of my clothing hung up on parts of my body. I had to actually sit down to get my shorts off, because I spent what seemed like five minutes hopping around on one leg while my shorts got tangled up in my foot. Part of that might have been because I didn't take my tennis shoes off, first.

She didn't say anything. She just stood there, smiling, watching me make a fool of myself. Some big brother I was. She was all cool and collected and I was spastic.

When I finally stood up, naked, my cock pointed straight at her, like it was a bloodhound, sniffing out its prey. That wasn't a pun, but I suppose it could be, under the circumstances. I know most people reading this are going "ewww" in their minds. I've been there. But you need to push that aside and think about it more rationally. A menstruating vagina is exactly the same vagina you'd love to fuck at any other time. Think of it like this. If you start fucking, and it's great, and then, while you're getting it on, her flow begins, like it did when we first fucked, you'll never know the difference until it's all over. You literally can't tell, unless you know it already.

 She came over to me and embraced me almost tenderly. She kissed me and I felt dizzy. My hands moved of their own volition, sliding up her sides and across her back, before sinking to cup her butt cheeks. I didn't even realize my cock was between her legs until our second kiss.

"I have to get ready," she whispered into my lips.

I didn't know what that meant, until she pushed me away and went to her bathroom. She came back with a dark, maroon towel that she folded in half and spread out on the bed. Even I knew it was where her hips would go. When she bent over her pussy peeked at me from below those ass cheeks that had felt so soft-yet-firm in my hands. There was no string coming out of it, now. It looked completely normal, understanding that I didn't have tons and tons of experience with staring at pussies.

As soon as she had the towel where she wanted it, she lay down with her knees up and her feet a maybe twenty-four inches apart. She was my sister. I'd seen her literally thousands and thousands of times, but in that instant, she was a woman, ready to have sex ... waiting to have sex ... and she didn't look like my sister at all. She was obviously Cathy, but she was that new Cathy who I didn't know very well.

"Kiss me some more," she said, softly.

I'm sure you think I just climbed on top of her and did the same thing that happened the first time, but that's not what happened. First off, I climbed on the bed to lie beside her. She was ready for me to be on top of her, but I didn't know how to properly approach and mount her. Imagine you are presented to a horse for the first time in your life. You've seen them. You've seen people riding them. Maybe you've even seen people getting on and off of them. But you've never actually been next to one.

They're big. They're tall, and the stirrups - if there are any - are way up high off the ground. You know the theory of getting on, but faced with the first time of actually trying to do it, it's very intimidating.

It's exactly the same thing with mounting your first lover. And don't yell about how crass it is to compare a girl to a horse. It's a metaphor. My point is that if you don't have somebody to help you do things, the first time, you're scared to try doing things the first time. You don't want to look stupid.

So, to avoid looking stupid by doing it the wrong way, I looked stupid by lying down beside her, while she was on her back with her legs spread waiting for me to get on top of her.

She adapted by rolling to face me, but all she did was stare at me.

"I want to do this," she said, softly.

"I know," I replied.

"This time I want you to be able to remember it," she went on.

"Me, too," I said. I almost added, "I think," but I knew she wouldn't like that.

She snuggled up to me and, like magic, my reservations vanished. I wanted to do this, too. The problem was, I didn't know how to do it.

Mother Nature isn't stupid. She knows how to do anything. I heard a scientist being interviewed on the radio one time and he said that if man thought he'd come up with some new fancy idea, there was a good chance nature had already done it before. They were talking about the climate or something like that. He said the geological record showed that the Earth had gone through climate change exactly like the present one a bunch of times, and that was back before there was any technology man invented to screw things up. Technology might be the one thing man can claim as his own invention. But then, where, in nature, is the power of a computer really needed? Nature doesn't need electricity, or paint, or cars. She knows how to get done what is important to her.

In our case, Cathy knew that if we started kissing, I'd get so turned on I didn't care about looking stupid anymore. And that was true. At one point I was dry-humping her thigh, smearing precum all over her leg. Now, the person who put the brakes on was Cathy. She made me slow down. She made me suck each nipple, telling me to suck harder, or softer, and to tickle each one with the tip of my tongue. I didn't finger her and she didn't ask me to. I think we were both aware she was flowing, but we just avoided anything that would bring that to the forefront of things. She'd put the towel down to keep the covers from getting stained, but that was all.

She told me to get on my knees beside her and she played with my dick. It was so odd, feeling her hand on it. She was so gentle, almost too gentle, as she explored how things worked. She was fascinated with my foreskin, and talked about how the skin got paper thin as she dragged it off the head. And she talked to it!

"You've been inside me," she cooed. "You get to go inside me again, pretty soon. Do you want to?"

My mouth and throat were dry, and to be honest, I felt like it would be stupid to speak for my penis, so I just stood there on my knees.

"You're so handsome," she said, as her grip firmed a little bit. "You're big and handsome. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were too big to fit."

I leaned back to ease the beginning burn my back muscles were feeling.

"But I know you fit," she said, jacking my prod, slowly. "Bobby says you could make a baby in me. You don't want to make a baby in me, do you?"

I felt some primal thing in me clench things down there and watched as a drip of precum oozed out of the tip and got the foreskin all wet as she stroked me. Her hand abandoned my penis and went to cup my balls.

"Now these," she said, adopting a much less tender voice. "You guys are a little scruffy looking. You need a shave or something."

"There's nothing wrong with my balls," I said, finally breaking my silence.

She looked up at me and her eyes looked as big as they are in those anime cartoons.

"They look like some of those guys in school who are trying to grow a beard and shouldn't, because they're all scraggly." Her hand squeezed as she said "scraggly."

"Ow," I said, though I wasn't in real pain. "They're tender."

Now she manipulated the orbs inside the sack like dice she was getting ready to throw, or something.

"I know that," she said. "All girls know that. They even feel like they might be easy to crush."

"No crushing!" I moaned, reaching to touch her wrist.

"I know that, silly," she said, easing her grip on them. "I don't want to have a baby now, but I will some day."

I was too inexperienced to understand the import of that last sentence. My reaction to it was framed by the culture I lived in, which said clearly that brothers and sisters should not produce any babies at all, either now or later. It had been inculcated into me by more than a decade of what amounts to peer pressure. Nobody actually sits you down in school and says, "Okay, class, today we're going to talk about incest, which has always been wrong, is wrong, and will always be wrong. We need to talk about this, class, because even though it's wrong, lots of people still want to do it." And then the teacher would go on and explain why incest is anathema and what terrible things it does to people and babies and all that.

But that's not how it happens. Ironically, you learn about incest in much the same way most kids learn about sex - from your peers. It's the blind, leading the blind, because adults are too uncomfortable to explain it all to you and discuss things fully. In the case of incest, adults are too uncomfortable with it to even research the rumors and assumptions to try to generate a reliable, well-founded, scientific stance on the issue. It is likely, in fact, that there is a lot more incest than anybody suspects, and that there have been a lot of perfectly normal, healthy, incest babies in the world.

Another bit of irony was that Cathy was just like culture, in that once she made up her mind, it was made up and nothing was likely to change it. Her casual comment about wanting to have babies some day, simply assumed that they'd be my babies. I didn't know this when she said it, but she did.

Of course she was only fifteen, and her body was wracked by hormones, just like mine was. And she could be expected to moderate her assumptions as she matured. Everybody knows that girls have best friends who, a week hence are total bitches, never to be spoken to, or of again, as new girls populate the best friend list. And then it happens again and again, and so on. But her frame of mind was that she was in love with her brother, who was the only male allowed to have sex with her, which meant that, when she was ready to start producing offspring, the father would obviously be me.

I missed that completely. It flew right over my head as the pressure on my nuts eased and I could breathe easy again. All I heard her say was that, at some point years and years from now, she wanted to have kids. Probably. I made my own assumptions, which were less well-formed than hers. Some guy, in the very distant future would marry her and she'd have a family and so on and so forth.

"You want to practice for that?" I asked, hinting heavily.

"I do!" she said, brightly.

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