sexstories.com

Introduction:

Annie has been helping her brother round the bases and now they're ready for the home run.

That was the most memorable summer of my life, no doubt about it. No, the most memorable first few weeks of summer to be precise. So many events came together, so many events stood apart that taken together, I repeat, it was a month, few weeks even, that I will never forget. Do you know those famous, historic events that folks ask “where were you when...”? And you can remember what you were doing when you heard the news? Well, extend that for three to four weeks; I can remember almost every day of that time. And many of the nights, as I’ll explain.

First, my sixteenth birthday was coming quickly. Mom had asked what I wanted as a gift and did I want a big party. The decisions were fairly easy; I only wanted a nice celebratory dinner at a nice restaurant with my parents and my brother Paul. And I wanted driving lessons. I wanted the freedom of a driver’s license by the time I entered my junior year of high school. My folks accepted my requests instantly and we set the dinner date for two weekends hence.

At the same time my brother Paul’s baseball season was approaching its end. His team’s regular season success had guaranteed a slot in the playoff round so there was a bit of tension building around the house as the playoffs approached. My folks that year had taken to visiting and staying with friends at a lake about an hour and a half from our town, so they were often away weekends when Paul played. I made up for their absence, though, never missing one of his games. In fact, I almost owned my spot on the first base side under a large shade tree.

Earlier in the season I witnessed Paul with our neighbor Brittany across the street, making out on a couch in her basement. That evening while our parents were out I nervously extorted a lesson in kisses from my brother. I threatened to “tell Mom” what they’d been up to if he didn’t agree to give me a kissing lesson. The truth was that I was woefully inexperienced in that department, but the truth also was that it was a hollow threat; I would never have blown the whistle on Paul. But that evening after three or four tentative and instructive kisses, I realized I no longer needed the threat; we became, well, very engaged in the lesson. And Paul needed no persuasion to continue the lessons.

It began simply like that; a few innocent sibling kisses, a lesson in the art, and then a joking tease from me as I grew more comfortable with my brother’s kisses and touches. I joked that Brittany hadn’t let him, a talented baseball player, get to second base. I teased him with the thought that if he could hit a double...he could get to second base with me. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back it’s clear to me that with that semi- serious offer I’d definitely let the Incest Genie out of the bottle. But neither of us understood that at the time and neither of us, absolutely, realized where it would lead us.

The double soon followed and, honoring my offer and following our “rules”, my breasts were soon touched for the first time by a man. My brother’s gentle and affectionate touches, caresses, fondles, his lips’ envelopment of my erect nipples stood in sharp contrast to the accounts some of my girlfriends had given of boyfriends’ virtual maulings. No, I realized even then at that very early stage that my brother treated me and my body with respect and, as I said, genuine affection. By second base I was beginning to feel that same affection. Sure, we all love our brothers, but not that way. I was beginning to feel a different kind of love for, and from, my brother.

When Paul hit his triple, when he rose from his slide at third and as the ump waved his hands emphatically calling him safe, it wasn’t his coach or his teammates that he turned to. The first eyes he sought were mine as I stood under the tree, my jumping ceased, my hands at my cheeks, as we both realized what lay ahead for us. And then he sent his unmistakable message to me as he quickly performed the standard ballplayer’s ritual of reaching down and quickly adjusting his athletic support. A routine gesture to everyone at the field except me. Instead I felt a now familiar tingling between my legs, a moistening that would have to wait a few hours to be dealt with.

That night was another night of firsts for us. My first oral sex from my brother, driving me to an unprecedented orgasm, my first orgasm with a man. A first blowjob for both of us as I instinctively went down on Paul, took as much of his six inches into my mouth as I could, quickly accepted his caution about my teeth on his cock, tasted, licked, and sucked as my tongue eagerly learned the topography of his erect penis, unsure of how to help him finish. Just in time he warned me of his orgasm, but not before his first jet of sperm hit my cheek and his following, unending, it seemed, jets hit my neck, my breasts, my navel. We laughed as I drew back, taking in his wide-eyed wonder at what his sister had just done for him and surveying the liberal coating of his semen that virtually blanketed my upper body. And my first taste of a man’s semen as I gathered Paul’s seminal fluid on a finger tip and cautiously tasted it, smiling as I told him of its sweet, mushroomy taste.

And more firsts as my brother’s youthful virility brought him back to his erect state very quickly so that I could stroke him, giving him his first hand job. His reciprocation took me to peaks of sexual pleasure that I had never imagined as his fingers with newfound expertise and confidence stroked my vaginal opening, teased and played with my clitoris, and finally entered me, the first time a man had entered my body, and began a gentle rhythm of thrusting and stroking that brought on an orgasm that seemed like death by pleasure, that absorbed every sense, every cell even, of my body. Somehow it felt that my brother had made my body a San Andreas Fault of pleasure and that he had just brought on the greatest tectonic shift imaginable. I could see why folks often invoked the old cliche of ‘the earth moved’. That is as accurate a de***********ion of my pleasure that evening, my brother’s lubricated fingers moving in and out of my vagina, as I could possible muster.

Our parents then broke their regular weekend habit of evenings out as they used Saturday to drive to the lake where their friends’ cottage was located. “We’re thinking of buying a cottage there,” they said, “so we’re going to look at one that’s available for rent this summer. If we like it we’ll rent it and perhaps buy it later.” And with that they were off for the day.

Paul and I looked at each other as our folks drove away. “No practices this evening, I guess,” I said.

“Well, I haven’t hit a triple this week, either, so it was looking like a pretty boring evening anyway,” my brother said.

I laughed. “Did I ever say that was a rule, bro? No, one triple is enough; you’re on the team for sure,” and laughed again. His face brightened immediately as he stepped closer, took me in an embrace, and kissed me. We hadn’t had many daytime kisses, but with our parents gone for the day there seemed no reason not to start. I glanced around, noticing the number of windows that might allow for passersby to see two siblings kissing, so I took Paul’s hand and led him upstairs to my room. “If they’ve forgotten anything and return you’re going to have to jump under the bed or get into my closet. I’ll just say you’ve headed off for a run.” And with that we fell onto my bed, recording another first; the first time since our childhood that my brother and I had occupied a bed together.

Well programmed by now, our lips and tongues found each other instantly, our hands renewed their acquaintance with each other’s bodies until finally feeling myself moistening and running my hand lightly over my brother’s obvious erection, we began almost feverishly removing our clothes. In seconds we were fully naked and kissing again, our hands now unencumbered by clothing, caressing the curves and muscles of each other’s body. It was thrilling to feel my brother’s rigid cock pressed against my skin for the first time as I realized how much more my bed offered compared to the couch in our den. “God, you better hurry up with that home run,” I breathed into Paul’s ear. “I’m not sure I can wait.”

“We have to wait, Annie. Rules are rules. And you’re not even sixteen yet, not even old enough to drive.” “Maybe not, bro, but I’m old enough to help you with your home run. A few of my girlfriends have already, well, made it home.”

Given our state: naked, fully aroused, and bodies entwined on my bed, it hardly seemed possible that we could have any rational conversation, but we did. “You’re not even on the pill or anything, are you? You said you hadn’t decided; pill or IUD, remember?”

“I actually have decided; I’m going to go on the pill immediately after my sixteenth and then maybe later, who knows, maybe next fall, get an IUD if I want to switch.”

“Sixteenth? So after next weekend?”

“Yup,” by now we’d stopped kissing as our hands idly traced each other’s curves. “Mom and I will head down to the clinic and organize things. And then the pill will be effective within days. But I’ll only be on the bench, if you know what I mean, unless you get the homer, bro.”

“All joking aside, sis, are we really going to do this? Seriously? Maybe we should draw the line here and just, you know, please each other without actually, well, doing it.” It seemed a fairly rhetorical question to me, glancing down at our naked bodies, my leg cast over my brother’s with my vaginal juices moistening his thigh, his rigid cock pressing against my side. I laughed before replying.

“Doing it? Doing it? Do you mean sexual intercourse? Do you mean my brother’s erect penis entering my moist, hot vagina?” Then, ending the tease, I said “Paul, we’ve gone so far that I couldn’t stop or turn back now if I tried. Believe me I’ve thought about this over and over for the last couple of months, ever since that first evening. I want you to be my first. You’ve shown me such affection and respect...hell, such love, that I can’t imagine finding another guy that I would rather have as my first. Or my second, or third, or,” and by that time he was lightly hitting me on the arm, an old childhood habit we had.

“Well, I feel the same. I can’t think of any girl...no, any woman I’d rather give my virginity to than my own sister. Crazy, isn’t it? Are we weird? Are we criminals?”

“I think this might be a lot more common that society is prepared to admit, Paul, although I think a lot of brothers and sisters who are having sex are just fucking; with you and me I know it’ll be making love. They’re not the same. But just check out the porn sites; the incest stories and videos have double the readership and viewers that other porn has. That has to tell you something, right?” And that seemed to settle it as we returned to our embrace and kisses.

Even though we had virtually all day at our disposal, my need grew quickly as our kisses continued until I soon gently pressed my brother onto his back and scooted down, kissing his navel quickly before I took his waiting cock in my hand. I glanced up at Paul, smiled, and then began to take him into my mouth with more confidence and, I hoped, skill than the last time I had fellated my brother. As before, I took his glans first, circling it with my tongue, licking the pre-cum on its tip, closing my lips tightly around its base as my tongue did its work. Breaking briefly for a breath I glanced up and saw my brother’s head pressed deeply into my pillow, eyes closed, teeth gritted with the pleasure I was giving him. His fingers clutched the blanket and then, as I returned to my task, released it and quickly cupped my head, holding me to his erect penis. I pressed down now, taking him deeply, quickly, until his cock struck my throat. I had heard from girlfriends about deep throating and, drawing back to avoid my gag reflex, marvelled that any woman could achieve that. I instantly set that as an eventual goal.

I drew back all the way to his glans and then descended again, commencing a rhythm that went on for several minutes interrupting only a few times to lick and suck on my brother’s glans. Then, sensing a chance to tease, I pulled off him with a plopping sound as his head snapped up and his eyes opened. Smirking, I began to stroke him, signalling that I intended to keep pleasuring him, until his head sank back into the pillow and I again took him into my mouth. It was only a few seconds before his moans became louder and louder and he managed to tell me in his guttural words “I’m close, Annie, I’m going to...”

But instead of pulling off as he expected, I sped up my rhythm quickly, breaking only for a couple of seconds to tell him “cum for me, Paul, give it to me. I want you to come in my mouth,” and immediately resumed sucking him as with one sudden “UMMMPPPHHH” and thrust of his hips off the bed my brother began to cum, shooting his first rope of cum as I pushed myself as far down his shaft as I could without gagging and began swallowing his load, jet after jet. It was the second time I’d felt, actually felt the pulsing of his cock as he came, as he pumped his seed from his sac, through the length of his cock, and out - out directly into my mouth this time.

I wanted so badly to know what it felt like to have my brother come inside me and since we hadn’t reached home plate yet I knew this was the next best thing. In flurries of giggling gossip a few girls I knew claimed to have given blowjobs; a few even boasted about it, but many were clear that “I wouldn’t allow him to come in my mouth, no way.” But I had quickly acquired a taste for my brother’s semen, and the mouthfuls I received and swallowed that afternoon continued to taste that sweet mushroom taste that my fingertip had first shown me. When I finally felt Paul’s shaft soften, when I’d milked every drop of his cum, I rose and smiled at him, casually wiping a few drops of semen from my lips, my smile widening as I watched his head rise from the pillow, his wide-eyed shock clear on his face.

I quickly shifted up the bed and after wiping my mouth quickly on my pillow case we resumed our kissing until he began is reciprocation, pushing me onto my back crawling to the foot of my bed and quickly pulling me toward him. I didn’t understand at first his intention until I realized that with me half way down the bed and my legs now draped over the end he had perfect access to me as he began nuzzling my fur then quickly began pushing my labia open with his tongue. Yes, I’d felt his tongue in my vagina before, but that didn’t reduce the pleasure that grew with his lingual probing and caressing. No, knowing how pleasure-shocked my body was by his first cunnilingus only increased my anticipation so that when my orgasm struck the bed bounced as my body lifted and fell with each wave of my climaxes.

The next hour repeated our last session on the den couch as I again stroked my brother to orgasm, this time catching his jets of semen (how could he produce that much cum so quickly, I wondered) in a cloth I’d brought from the bathroom. And our last twenty minutes were spent with Paul’s expert digital probing as my body shook to the second male entry of my vagina. As I collapsed into his hug my mind spun with wonder; if my pussy gripped just his fingers so tightly, how on earth could we fit his erect cock into me? I knew that billions of women had done it but that didn’t reduce my personal doubt and wonder.

By that weekend Paul’s team was in the first round of the playoffs so I went to his game on Sunday and took my customary spot on the first base side. Every time Paul came to bat it was hard to know who was more nervous; me or my brother, and I knew his nervousness wasn’t about facing the pitcher. I knew he was thinking as much as I was about a possible home run. But it didn’t happen. His team won, advancing to the next round, but you wouldn’t know it after the game as he forced a smile for his teammates and pretended elation at their win. No, we would just have to wait until next weekend.

But I had noticed a difference with the crowd this week; yes, there were naturally more fans watching, but there was a clutch of men leaning against the fence in front of me, seven or eight of them, some tieless in suits, a few in club jackets. They chatted back and forth and seemed to occasionally make notes. After the game, as much to distract my brother from his homer-less game as to know, I asked who they were. “Scouts,” he said.

“Scouts? Who are they looking at?”

Still thinking on his hitting, he seemed almost casual in his reply “well, a couple of us. Me, I guess.”

“YOU?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “Professional teams?”

“Maybe, but I think mostly universities, looking for scholarship players.”

“Oh my god, and they’re looking at you?” I began jumping up and down and then took my brother into a hug. “That would be amazing if you got a scholarship” and felt him finally relax in my arms before we both suddenly realized our public display and quickly pulled apart.

There was much news that evening when our parents returned home; they loved the cottage and had rented it for the entire summer. “You kids are going to love it too, I know you will,” said our Mom.

“I don’t know how much time we’ll have to go there, Mom; I’ve got my summer job lined up at the garden nursery and Paul’s going to be going to a lot of baseball camps, remember?”

“Yes, I know, but you’ll have Sundays off at least and when Paul’s not at camp you and he can come up overnight Saturday nights, or maybe just for the day on Sundays. Believe me, it’s well worth the trip.” And we left it at that, my brother and my summer routines rapidly taking shape.

You might think by my account that all my brother and I thought about was getting together in our parents’ absence, or that every minute was consumed by thoughts of sex and planning for it. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t foremost in our minds, but we still had routines that helped; school was nearing its end with exam season looming and our chores around the house were actually welcome distractions. Routine seemed to make the next week pass more quickly. But as Saturday approached I began to think more and more: will Paul’s team lose and be eliminated before he can hit a homer? Even if they lose, might he still hit one out of the park? If he didn’t, would Paul and I stick to our self-imposed rules? The last question began to take up more and more of my thoughts.

But there were other things too; my sixteenth birthday fell on the Friday so true to my request we all dressed up a bit and headed out to a little Italian restaurant that our family loved. I had taken care with my choice of clothing; I wanted something just a little sexy, a hint to my brother but not enough to give the game away. And, very rare for me, I applied just a bit of makeup; when I looked at myself in the mirror I thought I’d successfully added a couple of years. When I came downstairs the raised eyebrows and “my, aren’t we the lovely young woman” from my parents and the mute, smiling eyes with which my brother appraised my look told me I’d hit the right note.

Dinner was excellent; a bit of wine allowed for me and Paul, warming and relaxing me as our dinner progressed until finally, dessert coming, my parents gave me an envelope. Opening it I realized it was confirmation of my driver training course. I couldn’t stop the smile as I realized freedom was just over the horizon, when Mom and Dad then placed a small wrapped box in front of my plate. I lifted it, shook it, and then opened it to find two of the most gorgeous small gold ear studs that I’d ever seen. I was never one much for jewelry but I instantly loved the studs and before I could even thank my parents had placed them on my ears. I blushed at how grown up they made me feel and from the corner of my eye could see my brother coloring as well. He seemed to suddenly realize that he was now dealing with a young woman. That girl that had been his sister, that had teased him about kissing a neighbor girl, that had had her first kissing lessons with him had left the building and that his younger sister was now a young woman.

Sixteen years old. Yes, I know: to much of the world you’re still a kid, still a girl. Not to me, though. Mom has always told me that I’m “more mature than those other kids,” even since I was a young girl. My teachers tended to treat me as a leader and on teams I was often picked as captain so, yes, I guess I did feel more mature, older than a lot of my contemporaries. But turning sixteen seemed to open a whole new chapter, almost like opening a window and letting young adulthood begin to flow into my life.

Two signal events in that happened the week after my birthday dinner. Our Dad accompanied me down to the local DMV office, quickly doing the paperwork for my driver’s learner license. But, to me, a much more significant threshold to adulthood was crossed; my Mom and I attended our town’s family planning clinic. I was surprised by the warm, professional welcome we received. I don’t know what I expected, but the caring discussion we had surprised me. Both women; my Mom and the physician that advised us, treated me as an adult, someone capable of making important and responsible decisions. I was given a quick course in contraception, STDs and, even more surprisingly, a quick lesson on picking partners and the importance of sex in my life and my future relationships. I felt the blush rise in my cheeks for some of the topics, particularly the chat about potential partners. I wondered “if they only knew. If they only knew who my most likely partner is, and that he’s not just ‘potential’.”

I was given a month’s supply of pills, a pre***********ion for an ongoing supply, and instructions on their use and potential side effects and with that and our thanks Mom and I returned home. It was implied between Mom and I that now that I had my supply it was entirely up to me when to begin taking the pill. I tried to keep it light and joked about how “well, this summer maybe I’ll meet someone, Mom, maybe it’ll be one of those summer romances,” and knew I’d hit the right note when she laughed. Again: if only she knew. When I got home I headed upstairs and found my brother deep in studying for our year-end exams. I knocked lightly on his open door, checked quickly over my shoulder before entering his bedroom, and then showed him my supply. Neither of us said a word; everything we needed to say or wanted to say was expressed by our eyes as they locked. I could read the question in his eyes; he was asking “are you sure? Are you really sure?” And I could see his eyes reading the consent, my slight nod and the commitment in my own eyes. His glance registered that one spot in the round pill organizer was already empty; our little secret. I recounted the clinician’s advice, that in my case it would take seven days for the pill to take effect and I saw the disappointment in his expression. Again glancing over my shoulder I gave him a quick kiss of reassurance and whispered to him “don’t worry, bro; we’ll work it out,” and with that returned to my room and placed the pills in my sock drawer.

That was on a Monday. The rest of the week, as I’ve said, I can remember if not hour by hour, certainly day by day because of what approached; Paul’s championship semifinal game on Saturday. Once again our parents had announced their plans by Wednesday; they were off to the cottage “to clean it and open it up for the summer”. Any disappointment on Paul’s and my part that they wouldn’t see him play was easily offset by our nervous anticipation of Paul’s performance. No, not that performance (of which I had no doubts whatsoever), no: his performance in the upcoming game. Despite being one of the best hitters on his team Paul had not hit a home run all season. So it was with considerable nervous anticipation that I took my now-customary seat at the park, beneath the shade tree on the first base side.

If this was a conventional narrative following conventional and fictional cliches, the team would be tied at the bottom of the ninth, two out, no one on, when my brother came to the plate and, of course, voila: a home run. No, that didn’t happen. I’ve already told of how, when he hit his triple he seemed to be oblivious to his team’s elation and instead looked at me briefly, reached down, and quickly adjusted his jock strap. A harmless, typical baseball player’s move, but a clear sign to me. So clear that I was glad no one was with me to see my blush. But baseball is a game of secret signs, famously so. Catchers signal to their pitcher as they call the pitch. Managers signal to a runner for a steal or to a batter to put the ‘hit and run’ on. So when Paul came to bat and called briefly for time and as he placed the bat handle between his legs, protruding in its phallic way, no one in the park saw his sign to me as he lightly dusted the handle and then stroked it quickly for a second. No one saw but me. And my body reacted; more than a blush. My brother with his cryptic gesture had made me instantly moist. So I guess when he connected on the third pitch, when both he and I knew by the sound of the bat, when we watched it soar high, higher, and then clear the left field fence I wasn’t really surprised. It was kismet, pure and simple, I knew. It was karma; my brother and I had spent weeks falling, yes falling, deeper and deeper in love and it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world that kismet rewarded us with his home run.

His grin was obvious but no one but me could guess that he wasn’t grinning for the obvious reasons and probably no one but me saw his quick gesture as he raised his hand, trotting toward first, took it to his lips, and blew a kiss to me. As he completed his tour of the bases I was surprised to realize I’d been on my feet jumping and was almost hoarse from my shouts. I stopped jumping and as he rounded third and headed home at his leisurely trot I waited for his glance and when it came quickly dropped my hand below my belt and, seen only by my brother, quickly dragged my hand across my mons. Another secret sign as his grin broadened and he tagged home.

The game ended well for Paul’s team. They won so that they would play in the final next weekend. I don’t know about my brother, but I can say with absolute certainty: my thoughts did not reach to next weekend. My thoughts didn’t even reach to Sunday, the next day. My thoughts were one hundred percent about the coming evening, the coming night. The usual tingling that I felt was no longer restricted to my vaginal region. No, my entire body was now tingling with sexual anticipation. Incest? Of course I knew that my brother and I were about to cross the final line, leave our society and its taboos behind, and join a secret society. Paraphrasing Oscar Wilde, we were about to share in ‘the love that dare not speak its name’.

My legs actually felt weak. I wasn’t sure I could even walk home, so I waited while Paul’s team held their regular post-game meeting and analysis, waited until the team broke up and Paul walked over and joined me in the shade. We didn’t need words as suddenly we seemed to be seized with a new shyness, something we hadn’t experienced since our first night of ‘lessons’. Paul lay beside me, a discrete space between us, until finally he said, gazing at the clouds and blue sky above us, “it’s a damned good thing that it’s daytime, Annie. If it was dark I’d be all over you; you know that, don’t you?” And we both laughed.

“Like white on rice, bro. But this piece of rice would loooove to have white on it. All over. Everywhere,” as my body ached to touch Paul, to be taken, yes taken, by him. To tag home plate with my brother as we’d hoped and promised for long weeks now. But not here, not now. So I continued to lie by his side letting the ache be slowly replaced by that tingling. Tingling was good, I told myself, the rest would have to wait.

As we rested, I noticed a couple of small cards on Paul’s equipment bag. “What are those?” I asked.

“Huh?” as he followed my glance. “Oh; business cards. A couple of university scouts talked to me. They both said that they’d be talking to me again next year about scholarships.” I was amazed by his casual de***********ion and, elated by the news, took him into a quick hug.

After lying together in the shade for probably half an hour, silently absorbing each other’s presence and feeling the static sexual charges passing through the space between us, with a quiet grunt Paul suggested it was time to go home. By now it was late afternoon and I agreed. I still couldn’t trust my legs to carry me home so we got in the car as I took to my phone and ordered a pizza for pick up. As I was ordering I was surprised to see Paul wasn’t taking our usual route home. After a few turns his destination dawned; he was heading to our town’s arboretum park. When we arrived he drove slowly through the first parking lots until we reached one of the last and most remote lots. No other cars were there and I could see no visitors in the vicinity. He parked, turned the ignition off, turned to me, and said “I can’t wait, Annie, I just can’t wait.”

I waited silently for a few seconds and then said “it has to be perfect for me, Paul. I love you and can’t wait either, but it has to be perfect. Not here, not now. Not in a car, Paul. I just know that when we finally do it it’ll be amazing and the most loving thing we’ve ever done together. But not here.”

“But I...” I cut him off by sliding quickly across the seat and pulling him into a deep, probing kiss. Distracted by my kiss and our tongues dancing, my brother didn’t notice my hand moving quickly to the fly of his uniform, expertly unsnapping his belt and waistband and sliding into his shorts. He gasped and broke the kiss as he felt my hand circling his erection, gasped as my kiss moved from his lips to his glans, gasped as I took his head into my mouth and began tasting and sucking him. This was my offer to my brother, my gift of a consolation prize as I fellated him. Satisfied he was as hard as I could make him I lifted my head, releasing his shaft, returned to kissing him and began to quickly stroke him. My lips moved to his ear as I whispered “I know, Paul, I know. I need it too. I feel the pain. Let me make it better,” as I continued to stroke him with the expert grip that he had taught me. It didn’t take long. His accelerating breaths, his shaking body, and finally the thrust of his hips off the seat as he began to cum told me I was right. Rope after rope of his semen shot up from his erect penis as my hand rejoiced in the pulsing that I had caused. I continued to milk my brother’s cum until he had no more. Looking down at his cum-soaked uniform we laughed together. “Feel better?” I asked, then “I can see I’ve got some laundry to do when we get home.”

That relieved the pressure, the need. At least for my brother. And the experience of pleasuring him somehow lessened the pressure for me, too. I felt almost normal as we swung by the pizzeria and picked up our order. Clearly I had to do the pickup; the state of Paul’s uniform would be very hard to explain. Once home Paul went straight to his room, stripped, dumped his uniform into his laundry hamper, and headed to the shower as I laid plates out for dinner. I was surprised when Paul returned from his shower, now dressed in casual-nice; clean slacks and a pressed sort-of-dressy shirt. My eyebrows rose as I realized my jeans and t-shirt were pretty ordinary in contrast. I gave him a quick kiss to recognize his sartorial effort and we sat down to dinner.

Looking back, I’m amazed we could accomplish even something as ordinary as a pizza dinner. But we did. Eating was occasionally interrupted as one of us took the other’s hand. Just to hold and feel it. The room, or everyday ordinary functional kitchen, felt more full of love than ever. Evening was descending, a lovely early summer night approaching. “How about a soda on the patio?” suggested Paul. I don’t know if it was to prolong our warm feelings at the moment or whether it was to delay our possible nervousness of what was to follow. In any event I agreed and told him I’d be ten or fifteen minutes in coming.

I headed upstairs; time for my own shower. I didn’t need it like my brother needed it. I wasn’t coated in the dust and sweat of the afternoon game, but I wanted to be perfect for him, fresh. Quickly drying myself I headed to my closet, donned fresh clean underwear and ***********ed a flowery summer dress. Perfect, I thought. By the time I went downstairs Paul was already on the patio, sodas ready, sitting on the swing. I sat on the swing, cuddled next to him, as his arm easily and naturally pulled me closer. We kissed quickly, sipped our sodas, and swung gently as our bodies relaxed against each other. I couldn’t think of a single conversational topic, given what the evening portended so I craned my neck up from his shoulder and whispered “I love you”. Another quick kiss and he replied “I love you too, Annie. I’m glad you made us wait today.”

By now I had decided that our post-dinner delay was not out of nervousness or fear. I was so relaxed cuddled with my brother on that perfect summer evening that there wasn’t a scintilla of nervousness in my body. After our drinks were drained I let myself slide slightly down so that I could place my ear near his heart and smiled to hear, no, to feel my brother’s heartbeat. Finally I couldn’t wait any longer and rose, pulling him up with my hand, and asked that age old question: “your place or mine?” Paul answered by continuing to hold my hand, leading me into the house, up the stairs, my anticipation building, and surprised me by leading us past my bedroom, the scene of at least one of our third base celebrations, to his room. By now the house was darkened, secured, and nighttime quiet. He surprised me again by leaving all lights out; none on the stairs, none in the hall, and finally none in his bedroom as he led me to the bed, kissed me deeply, then turned and closed the door. Why we needed the privacy of a closed door I have no idea, but somehow it seemed perfect. Paul was creating a tiny world, one that was peopled by just us two, Paul and Annie, brother and sister. And soon to be lovers.

He pulled the curtain of his window aside, glancing to the street, and opened his window so that the warm evening breeze found its way in, as did the light from the street. Now I began to understand more; our love would be lighted just perfectly from one lone streetlight. One lone disinterested light to witness the birth of our incestuous love, our taboo coupling. I could have stayed in my jeans and t-shirt; it was the same body beneath, but I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted to be, well, a woman for my first lover and I was glad that I had dressed myself accordingly as Paul took me again in his arms and repeated his earlier kiss, longer, deeper now, as his hand reached down and found my buttock, squeezed it, took the dress lightly in his hand and raised until the hem reached his hand and slid beneath the thin fabric, gliding now down the back of my thigh. I was glad that I’d worn panties, glad that my flowing juices were captured by them, glad that I’d given my brother one more article of clothing to remove from my eager body.

And remove he did as the same hand released my thigh and hem and slid up to find the zipper, effortlessly drawing it down. But why was he so tortuously slow? Was he trying to drive me mad? Stepping back he let the dress fall to the ground but now reached around as I’d taught him and quickly unclipped and removed my bra. His gasp as my firm, perky breasts revealed themselves. “My god,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Every time I see them it’s like the first time,” as he glanced up to take in my wide grin. I kissed him again before he fell to his knees and gently pulled my dampened panties down. It was almost a religious ritual by which my brother had unclothed me, and his manner was almost worshipful as he remained on his knees and slowly buried himself between my thighs, now separated slightly by me to allow his access. I held his head lightly in my hands as he kissed each inner thigh and then my mound. He looked up at me and asked “are you ready to be my batgirl, sis? Ready to be part of the team?” All I could do was to nod emphatically as words eluded me.

He rose and then it was my turn. I was a little less ritualistic in disrobing my brother. Perhaps I was the more eager of us two, but somehow I doubted it. In quick order I’d removed his shirt, pants, underwear and, laughing, reminding him that I wanted him totally naked, his wristwatch. And with that we fell to the bed. I could probably bore you with my hundredth account of our kisses, caresses, fondling, but I won’t. Yes, to lie together, totally naked, bodies touching as much as possible, my brother’s rigid cock pressed almost beseechingly against me was a sublime pleasure, but I’ll leave it for now.

What did happen was that after a few minutes Paul said “this is wrong, sis, wrong”.

I drew back immediately. “Oh my god,” I thought, “he’s going to stop. What I need most in the world right now he’s going to refuse to give.” I almost cried, felt my eyes watering up. Haltingly I asked “you mean what we’re going to do? Have sex? Commit incest? I know, Paul, but we’ve talked about this,” my eyes searched his stoney expression, his eyes giving away nothing.

“No, I mean I’m totally naked and you’re not,” as he broke into a broad smile, catching me with my own third base joke. I was perplexed, glancing down at what I thought was my totally naked body, until he leaned over and kissed each earlobe in turn. “Golden studs, Annie.”

“Can’t I leave them, Paul? They make me somehow feel grownup. They make me feel like a woman, not a girl. And I really want to feel like a woman for you, Paul.” Thinking quickly I laughed, kissed him, and said “you think I’ve got two golden studs, bro? You’re wrong. I’ve got three,” as my hand shot down and grasped, then stroked my brother’s hard cock. “I don’t think I can wait anymore, Paul.” At that he rolled away from me to reach his bedside table and opened its drawer. He put his hand in and drew out a small packet; rolling back to me he held it up for my inspection. “Ahhh, I knew you’d organize this,” I laughed, “it’s Saturday and the pill’s effect can’t be certain until Monday, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m really sorry we have to use a condom, bro. I can’t wait to feel you inside me...” and at that point my glib manner failed me as the words caught in my throat and I continued “I mean, I know I’ll feel you, but I’d love to feel everything, you know?”

“You know baseball better than most, sis, right?”

“Uh, sure,” wondering where this was going.

“Then you know that every batter wears a helmet, correct?” I laughed as I tore the packet open and removed the condom. Yes, I’d handled one in sex ed but I wasn’t staring at a banana this time. My brother’s cock was standing at attention, his full six inches waiting patiently - well, a lot more patiently than Paul was, I guessed - as I stripped the air out of its tip, thanking sex ed once again for teaching me technique. I leaned within inches of his erection, said quietly “hello, Babe, are you ready to tag home? To score?” and stroked my brother’s cock one last time before I began rolling the condom down its length, my focus disturbed by Paul’s quiet moan.

We kissed once more and then I began our final transgression, began to take us across that final line to the last taboo: our incestuous coupling. I rolled onto my back and spread my thighs, an unmistakable invitation to my brother to commit that unpardonable sin with me, to commit a criminal act, to commit incest. With his usual athletic grace he easily rolled over my right leg and knelt on his haunches between my legs. He leaned over me, supported by a hand on each side of my head and lowered himself to kiss me, then to trail his lips down to my breasts, kissing each and sucking on each erect nipple in turn. He wasted no time in continuing his kisses until he reached my navel and then, lowering his body, reached down and found himself. My hands were on his back now, marveling for the umpteenth time at my brother’s musculature, tracing his back muscles as he began to trace my opening with the tip of his rigid cock, suspending himself above me with his other hand.

By then I couldn’t tell which of us was moaning louder. He continued to move his glans up and down my slit, pressing my labia open as my vaginal juices began flowing. Yes, I’d felt his tongue and his fingers in my vagina, but this was nothing like that. I had tried to imagine what it would feel like but his previous explorations hadn’t been anything like this as I felt his size, his hardness pressing more and more insistently until neither of us could take it anymore. He stopped, looked deeply into my eyes for any hesitation and seeing none, began to press into my vaginal entry. “I want to see,” I said, as I craned my neck up and looked down. He immediately lifted himself a couple of inches so that we could both look down our bodies and watch as finally, finally after all of these preparatory weeks, my brother’s rigid cock began to enter me. It was easily the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My last words as a virgin were “I love you, bro” as I felt him slowly, gently pushing, pressing my hot and wet vaginal walls farther apart than they’d ever been pressed as they began to grip my brother’s cock for the very first time.

He pressed into me perhaps an inch, just inserting his glans, really, and stopped, waited, watched my eyes as he withdrew to my quiet complaint “no,” as I thought he was going to withdraw. But he didn’t. He pressed in again, perhaps another inch as we both looked down and watched the slow progress of his cock. Again he withdrew and again he pressed in another inch. We could see the measure of his progress now as about half of Paul’s cock was still visible. Finally he drew himself out and then pressed back in until we both felt my obstruction as his glans met my hymen.

There seemed a moment of hesitation with Paul as he gave me a questioning glance. “Do it, Paul, do it please. I’m ready,” then, lifting my head and whispering in his ear “I want this; take me now, Paul.” It was all that he needed as he drew back one more time and pushed harder than he had so far as I gasped at the slight, fleeting pain that came when my brother took my virginity. And now it was different; it was as if my brother’s cock had opened the most amazing door in creation so that his cock could enter a room of sublime pleasure. This time he didn’t draw back. This time he rested a few seconds and then continued to press into me until his entire length was thrust into my soaking vagina. “Oh god,” was all I could muster, then “wait, please. Can we just wait for a few seconds? I want to feel you completely in me, Paul and...and...it’s fucking amazing.” His head had been buried in my neck and snapped up as I said it. “Annie never swore” was the family mantra, but the pleasure Paul was giving me seemed to open another door to a room where dirty words had been hiding. “Fucking incredible,” I repeated as his smile grew.

I could feel his whole length in me and loved the feeling. Finally I said “ok, stud, you can head home now.” Paul laughed, actually laughed. Who laughs as they’re losing their virginity to their sister? Paul did and then began slowly and gently to make love to me. He withdrew almost the entire length of his cock, so close to pulling out of me that I almost said “no” again, but he then thrust back into me, both of us savoring the very first time my brother plunged his entire length into his sister’s eager pussy. Several slow and gentle repetitions followed until he began to speed up and reached a rhythmic pace. I had hear stories amongst my girlfriends about “guys’ first times” and how they lasted all of twenty seconds. That wasn’t my brother; I anticipated that our first sexual coupling would be very short before he came, but it wasn’t. As my pleasure built, as I gave myself over to the waves of pleasure that had begun to wash through and pound my body, as I began feeling the sheer and unalloyed joy of giving myself, really giving myself to someone I loved...my brother kept his rhythmic thrusts into me. “Let me see again,” I said, so that Paul lifted himself until we could both look down and watch his cock’s progress as it entered me repeatedly. “Oh Jesus,” is all I could manage as the my brother’s cock kept up its rhythmic in and out.

I had assumed, from more friends’ gossip, that I wouldn’t climax this first time. Wrong. As my hands began to move up and down my brother’s back feverishly, as I felt perspiration on both our bodies I drew my feet up flat on the bed so that my thighs offered Paul support and containment but as he continued to plunge into me, impaling me with his cock my body began to join him in the rhythm as my hips, almost of their own accord, began to lift from the bed to meet his every thrust. I seemed almost out of body as I heard myself recording every thrust with “unnh, unnh, unnh...” Until I felt my orgasm coming as a tsunami would approach. My feet left the bed as I wrapped my legs around my brother and tried to pull him into me as I managed “Paul, I’m...I’m... UUUNNHHH...cum...cumming,” and began to buck as my body convulsed to my orgasm, shaking both of us and the bed, my full body embrace now locking my brother in almost a death grip. I couldn’t seem to stop as that tsunami hit me and wracked my body with wave after wave, peak after peak of climaxes.

I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even control my body. I was hardly aware that Paul had stopped his thrusting, had broken our rhythm as I came. He waited until my body had fallen back onto the bed with only the occasional echo of my orgasm now shaking me. He had been deep inside me all this time but I only remembered that as he slowly withdrew and began resumed the cadence of our incestuous love. Speech finally returned as I began telling my brother over and over how much I loved him. It was as if I couldn’t stop even though I knew he needed no convincing. Finally he also recovered his speech as through gritted teeth he managed “Annie, I love you sooo much,” and made one final, deepest thrust into me as he began a deep and feral groan; “UUUUNNNHHH,” as I felt for the very first time my brother’s cock begin to pulse deep within me, like a tiny heartbeat. I was thrilled to feel his pulsing cock as it tried to shoot the jets of his seed into me and was shocked to feel my second orgasm hitting me as my brother came. We shook together, our sweat-soaked bodies gripping each other until our mutual quaking finally ended and we fell together back into the bed, exhausted by our sexual euphoria.

I was suddenly conscious, of all things, of moisture. Our bodies were coated in a sheen of sweat. My vagina was wet with my juices. I knew that my brother’s condom was full to bursting with his semen, still within me as his cock softened. As we both watched his softened penis fall from my vagina with a soft wet sound, we both noticed the slight bit of blood that had joined my juices, proof positive of the gift of my virginity to my brother. But the most amazing thing was the sudden realization that both of our cheeks were wet with our tears. My tears were flowing freely as I kissed my brother and tasted his salty tears. Neither of us had to say it; we were both crying tears of joy at the final consummation of our incestuous love.

Finally speech returned as my head lay on Paul’s chest I said “safe at home, bro. Did I make the team?”

“Make the team? Sis, you’ve got a lifetime contract on my team. Oh, and happy birthday Annie; I hope you enjoyed your gift.”

We were quiet for a few minutes and then each of us broached that eternal question. I began with “how was I, Paul?” I had no idea of how well I’d done as his sexual partner.

“Annie, you know I have no one to compare you with; we’re both...were both...a couple of virgins. But you were fantastic. I can’t imagine a sexier woman, sex that was better, more loving than what you just did. Sis, you’re incredibly hot. And right back at you; how was I?”

After what we’d just done, after the peaks of pleasure that had hammered us, you would think it was impossible to blush again, but I did as Paul’s words sunk in. “You were just as amazing, bro. You were safe by a mile at home. I never expected that you could last the way you did. You made me cum twice. That’s amazing. How did you do it? How did you last?”

“A couple of things, I guess. I knew I’d cum way too fast for you, so the batter’s helmet really helped. I can’t wait to go bareback with you, Annie, but for now the condom helped lessen the feeling and since I knew even with it on I’d come fast I distracted myself.”

“Whaaa? How could you distract yourself? I mean that was the most intense thing I’ve ever done in my life, Paul. How could you think about anything else?”

“Baseball came to the rescue. Once I was all the way inside you I had to think of something else. So I remembered every pitch I saw today, every one of my at-bats. As I kept going I could hear your moans so I had to focus even more and visualized fast balls, curves, sinkers. Thank god for that, eh?” With that he rose and headed to the bathroom and suddenly his bed felt cold without my brother’s body there, warming me. I heard the toilet flush and knew he’d disposed of the most obvious evidence of our incest. Then I heard the taps running for a few seconds and almost immediately my brother was back in the room, back in our bed, and back in my arms.

Newly washed, his cock was already in a semi-flaccid state. I laughed and asked “how do you do it, bro? How do you get hard so fast?”

“No, sis, how do you do it? How do you make me hard again in minutes?” as we laughed, rolling on the bed, our naked bodies wrestling as we’d done as kids tickling, laughing, and rolling more each for brief seconds gaining the upper hand, pressing the other’s body down into the bed. Because often it’s good to be kids again, even in the midst of incestuous sex, in the midst of making love.

But our wrestling and tickling very quickly ended as we returned to the lovemaking. Breaking one of our long kisses I asked quietly “how many at bats did you have today?” knowing, of course, the answer.

“Four at bats; you know that, don’t you.” My answer was only to smile widely and, leaning my body across his to reach his bedside table I opened the drawer.

“Open sesame,” I smiled, “and what treasures will we find in my brother’s treasure chest?” Lying across him as I felt his lips find my nipples I reached in and blindly fished around with my hand and rejoiced as it felt several more small packets and held a small handful out for inspection.

“Oh,” I laughed, “you dirty, dirty boy. How many batgirls were you planning for?

”

“Just one, sis, just one.”

Tossing the handful onto his other bedside table and removing one from the small pile I said “well maybe it’s time for your second at bat?” and tore the packet open quickly and rolled our second condom onto my brother’s erection. We were quicker now, both eager to resume where we’d left off a half hour before, my brother’s stiff cock deep inside me. His first thrust was measured but confident as I gasped when I felt his full length once again deep in my vagina, my tight wet muscles gripping him as lovingly as they already had once.

His thrusts came more quickly now, my hips rising as quickly to meet them until he began to groan, the sounds of his approaching orgasm already becoming familiar to me. “Hold on, Paul, I’m almost there,” I begged in his ear, his face buried against my neck, his panting breaths quickening. “Hold on, please.” And he did as I glanced down between our thrusting, damp bodies, as my legs knees and thighs again held him, glanced down to watch his plunging cock withdraw and then thrust again into me, his plunges well lubricated with my vaginal juices, the sight was all it took to push me over the edge. “I’m cumming now, bro, I’m cumming. Cum with me...cum into your little sister, Paul” and with that our mutual orgasm erupted and for the second time that night my brother’s bed shook with the near-violence of our joint climax. Again we clung to each other as if, separated, we would die of the pleasure. As my orgasm began to lessen, between its echoing waves that shook me for several minutes, I managed “safe at home again, bro. You’ll always be safe at home with me.” And with that we kissed and slowly fell back onto Paul’s bed.

Mimicking Paul’s performance of that afternoon, we had a total of four “at-bats” that night, four trips for my brother to the bathroom, four disposals of the evidence. I lost count of how many orgasms my brother gave me in total, but the slight soreness that I was feeling added to my fatigue. It was well after midnight when we reached the absolute limits of sexual exhaustion. How could two fit athletes, I wondered, be so tired by sex? I realized I had much to learn about it and looked forward to much more learning with my brother. The soreness, I learned, was common with repeated intercourse at an early stage. And my brother and I were certainly at an early stage. I learned that, possibly, the latex of Paul’s condoms might have contributed.

By mutual assent we lay quietly for a few minutes until I lifted myself, pushed Paul over a few inches, and surveyed the sheets of his bed. Despite our use of condoms there was clear and ample evidence of our fucking. I knew that was all attributable to me but felt no guilt at the thought. I looked at Paul, laughed, and said “more laundry for the bat girl tomorrow, bro,” rolled off the bed, took his hand, and led him out of the room, its air think with the funky scent of our long incestuous evening. I led him to my room, threw back the covers (we had not covered ourselves during our sex on his bed) and pulled him into my bed. It was the first time we slept, actually slept together as, spooning together, we both fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning we awoke surprisingly early and I had my first experience of my partner’s ‘morning wood’ as I felt my brother’s hardon pressing urgently against my butt. I rolled over and told him in a spousal way “not today, dear,” but instead of claiming a headache I continued “I’m sore...you stud”. I cast our covers aside and in the light of that early summer morning slipped down Paul’s body, quickly took him in my mouth, and began my incestuous ministrations, quickly bringing him to climax, grateful for his warning that he was cumming, so that I could ready myself for the tide of his semen that immediately followed as I swallowed jet after jet of his seed. We had been too tired after our night of lovemaking to shower, so after fellating my brother I hurried to the shower. Yes, I know; most accounts end in joint showers, more, wet sex. But not with Paul and me. I was in a hurry to get us back to whatever normal I could and Paul seemed in a state of bliss lying on my bed. I returned to my bedroom, laughed at my prone brother, threw on underwear, bra (as my brother’s eyebrows rose), t-shirt and shorts and immediately returned to his room, gathered the condom wrappers, cum-stained baseball uniform, sheets, and any other evidence I could find and headed downstairs starting our laundry first and then breakfast.

I was grateful that our parents didn’t return for several hours as Paul and I needed the time to settle back into our innocent routine. We distracted ourselves with chores and household tasks, homework, and some yard work. By unspoken agreement we chose tasks that would not bring us into contact, distrusting our ability to avoid more incestuous activities. Once our parents were back the rest of the day passed normally, our folks happily describing the cottage, Paul and I describing his game, and plans for the following week. And all the time at the back of my mind was...Monday. The seventh day. The day when science and my body would cooperate to begin my contraceptive state. I couldn’t wait and I knew Paul was thinking the same thing.

---