A brother offers his sister stocking stuffers at Christmas time and she's happy to accept them.
The 23rd of December was anything but quiet at our house as all decorations seemed almost by magic to appear, be unpacked, and placed in their annual places, our regimented family now familiar with the season’s decor. There were always quick errands for replacement bulbs, food for the snacks and dinner, and to top up our supply of wine, beer, and liquor. I focused hard on my tasks, hoping to erase the memories of the evening before, of the - now I knew with an alarming certainty - taboo feelings I’d had for my brother. And, recalling with a blush the obvious bulge in his trousers, his mutual feelings. “This is taboo, forbidden” I thought, “this can’t happen, simply can’t happen.” And with that I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and bent to my tasks.
Dinner on the 23rd was almost as much a tradition as our party; always a quick assembly of pasta with garlic bread followed by ice cream. As with so many family traditions there were no reasons that I could recall giving rise to the “Christmas Eve Eve” dinner as we called it, it just was. The day always left us all tired so that the evening was spent watching a typical Christmas movie and the only whiff of contention in the whole day might be the choice of movie (“…no, not Scrooge again; can’t we watch Love Actually?”) Ben was often a provocateur, lobbying for Die Hard but the parental veto always prevailed - “you can watch it on your own”. And often that’s exactly what would happen; Ben and I would find time to watch Die Hard on our own.
Late in the evening practically all was in place decoration-wise and our parents announced that they were heading to bed. “Do you mind finishing the tree?” mom asked us.
“Happy to do it,” I chirped and glanced at Ben, hoping my expression didn’t look too conspiratorial. If it did it was missed by Ben who blithely nodded and continued to fish about in a box of decorations. As our parents headed upstairs I clamoured up the small ladder we used to decorate the tree with a couple of ornaments in hand, quickly hanging them. After appraising them for a few seconds I leaned over Ben who was crouched at the box and said “next, please”, leaning a little more than necessary but enough to give my brother a good look down my shirt if he was interested. And he was interested. As he was about to hand me another ornament his hand stopped mid air as he took in the sight. I looked down just long enough to catch his glance and to raise one eyebrow. Did his hand shake just a bit as he handed me the decoration? Did his face flush just a bit?
I hung the decoration quickly, took another from his hand and then reached as high as I could with it before turning to Ben and saying “it’s kind of high; do you mind holding me steady for a second?” I don’t know if my brother suspected anything in my request but, looking back…perhaps. I raised myself on tiptoes and as Ben drew near I feigned one foot slipping. He immediately and instinctively reached out as his strong hands grasped my thighs. I instantly leaned into him “for stability” so that he had little choice but to wrap his arms around my legs. I had hardly planned this, but more instinct allowed me to lean even more into his embrace, my pussy now pressing against his cheek. I took longer, much longer than necessary, to hang the ornament and Ben took longer, much longer, to embrace and “steady” me. And to breathe in deeply, eyes closed.
I had to take a deep, calming breath myself as I delayed my descent and pretended to appraise the tree. Finally, breaking the spell and stepping down I dug into another box and came up with our traditional piece de resistance, our angel. “Your turn, bro; no way I can reach the top of the tree with this,” handing it to Ben. He immediately ascended the small ladder and, laughing, I said “my turn now…in case you fall,” and wrapped my arms around his thighs, allowing my face to drift closer until it rested against him. I tightened my embrace as I heard him fussing with the angel until he suddenly stopped. Glancing up at him I saw him returning my glance. It was one of those moments when - the cliche is true - time stood still. Could have been hours that our eyes met, but it was probably seconds before I broke our gaze and pressed my face into him strategically so that I felt his growing hardness beneath my cheek. So focused was I on what a thin barrier of fabric separated us, that I barely registered the soft touch of my brother’s hand on my head before he returned to his task and placed the angel.
Stepping down from the ladder he took my hand and by unspoken assent we stepped back to appraise our work, each of us pretending to not notice how quickly we were breathing. I plugged the tree’s lights in and turned the room lights off so that instantly our living room was transformed into a mini Christmas wonderland. I returned to Ben’s side and renewed our hand-holding until I felt him turning toward me. I reciprocated until we were facing each other. I stepped into his hug then lifted my face, giving the universal signal of a girl ready to be kissed. Signal received, my brother leaned down and kissed me. Slowly, deliberately, softly, and lovingly. I hadn’t been kissed a lot by then but even looking back on it, that kiss was one of the best I’ve ever received. “Time for bed,” he said; an innocent comment but one that now seemed heavily freighted with a whole other meaning. His words could have been innocuous but his eyes weren’t; searching, unblinking, they demanded something from me but I didn’t know if I could give him the answer he was seeking. So I rested my head against his chest, secure in his embrace, as I felt his heart beating. Finally I felt able to look into his eyes again.
“Ben,” I began, “I…I…I’m sorry if I’ve started something with us. It’s just that I’ve missed you so damned much. It’s…it’s wonderful having you back. I love you, bro, I really do. But I don’t know if I…if we…can love each other that way.” The instant sadness in his eyes told me that I hadn’t been wrong, that I had actually answered his question, but that it wasn’t the answer he wanted. I leaned up again and pulled his head down into another slow, loving kiss. A kiss that definitely wasn’t sisterly. A kiss that almost made me regret what I’d just said.
We finally ended our embrace and each headed to our respective beds. But I didn’t sleep immediately; I lay awake as feelings battled within me. I could not stop feeling again Ben holding me on the ladder, his faced pressed against my thighs, or my face against his growing hardness. Was I wrong in what I said? I knew I wasn’t mistaking the heat I felt has he held me on the ladder, or his hardness when I held him in turn. Whatever my mind was trying to deny, our hearts and our bodies were in complete disagreement with it. Finally my thoughts were pushed out of mind with one loud mental announcement: “I WANT him…I NEED him.” And I was as certain that he wanted me. My hand descended down my body as my mind’s eye transposed Ben’s face onto it as it pressed against my mons, squeezed in a prefatory way and then, the image of my brother going down on me taking over my entire brain as I continued squeezing and fondling until I was hit with an orgasm that lifted me off the bed. As its waves slowly receded I was able to finally sleep.
The next day was even more of a blur than the day before as mom and I, with occasional help from Ben and dad, cooked our contribution to the buffet, made final touches to the snacks and desserts and organized china and utensils. And then, by late afternoon, all tasks completed, there was the usual “calm before the storm” as dad described it. We all sat down, took a deep breath, shared coffee and tea, and eventually repaired to our rooms for showers and party clothes.
I looked forward to this party every year and had spent a few weeks planning my own clothes and had finally settled on an “LBD”, a “little black dress”. Picking it out at the store, trying it on, I was satisfied that it projected just the air of classy, but slightly sexy, image that I wanted to portray. I was no longer a girl, I was a young woman, and I wanted my dress to announce that. And I was satisfied that it did. Scooping slightly at the neck (I didn’t have much cleavage with my 34B breasts yet) and ending mid-thigh, it was just what the doctor ordered.
The day’s hectic whirl was a relief for me and, I realized, for Ben as well as were able to lean to our tasks enough to make things ‘normal’. Our glances didn’t take on deep meaning and our occasional close proximity didn’t generate the sexual tension that I’d feared. And this continued as our guests began to arrive and as the party swung into full gear. And it was simply wonderful. It was as if the party was the icing on the Christmas cake that my brother’s arrival had been. Longtime acquaintances renewed, good food eaten, warming drinks imbibed and the inevitable laughing carol singing all completed the tradition.
Finally our guests took their leave and mom, dad, Ben and I were left to clean up duties. With the worst of the disarray cleared up and most dishes in the dishwasher I announced that “you can head to bed, mom and dad, and Ben and I will finish up.” There was little argument from either our parents or from Ben as they said good night and headed upstairs. Ben and I surveyed the remaining party remnants and quickly threw ourselves into it. We were done within a half hour and stopped together in the middle of the living room, surveyed the restored order, and agreed our work was done.
We’d stacked all of the partially emptied bottles of wine together in the kitchen and as I turned off the room lights so that only the colouful glow of the tree lit the room, Ben headed to the kitchen and returned with two full glasses of wine. “Am I contributing to juvenile delinquency? Corrupting a minor?” he smiled.
“I’m not a juvenile, bro, and not delinquent…that I know of. As for corrupting…” and I left the rest unsaid. Again that look in his eyes, now almost a plea. I sat on the couch and motioned for him to join me, which he willingly did. Ben had sat at the edge of the couch, deliberately avoiding too-close proximity to me. I wasn’t having any of that as I slid across the couch, cuddled against him, slipped my legs under me and sipped my wine. “This is nice, Ben, really nice,” I muttered quietly. I knew he agreed by the way his arm wrapped around me and drew me even closer. Once again I could feel his heart beating, a feeling that I was growing to love more and more.
We were unhurried, relaxed, and comfortable as we each slowly finished our wine. With that I rose, took our glasses, and refilled them in the kitchen. On my return I was met with Ben’s raised eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he smiled, “I might lose control.”
“That would be very interesting,” I laughed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose control.” And with that I placed my wine on the coffee table and laid my head on his chest. More heartbeat, more warmth from him. More slow breathing until I felt him shift slightly as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. I smiled to myself and realized that I’d never felt more loved, more, well, a woman than at that moment. I shifted as well so that I drew back and lifted my face to him, leaned up, and kissed him. And he kissed me back, a slow, tender pressing of our soft, warm lips together. I ended it with my sigh and return to his chest. After a few minutes I felt him shift again slightly as he leaned down, drew my hair aside, and gently kissed my neck. I signaled my approval by tightening my hug and by turning and kissing his chest as his lips continued their journey up and down my neck. I felt his cheek brush mine, giggled, and whispered “you need to shave.” He chuckled at that as his hand glided up and down my back, idly caressing me, I realized.
“You didn’t bring me a Christmas present, did you?” I asked. His guilty look was all the answer I needed. I smiled my forgiveness and rested my head on his chest again for a few minutes.
Last night’s battle of feelings returned, this time with a fury. This time it was a very short battle as I slipped across the couch from Ben, breaking our embrace and ending the confusion on his face as I fell back and reached out to him. Instant wordless communication as our bodies shifted quickly to accommodate each other on the couch, as we returned to our embrace, as I tossed one leg immediately and seductively over my brother. Now our kisses came much faster, much harder, much deeper as I suddenly felt almost wanton in banishing last night’s hesitation. My kisses felt almost like an apology for denying Ben last night. My hand slipped beneath his shirt as I thrilled to my first truly intimate touch of my brother’s body, fingertips lightly tracing the ripples of his ribs, the muscles of his midriff. But my hands weren’t alone in their discoveries as Ben’s hands began their exploration, his left hand quickly and bravely sliding to my right breast, cupping it as my body spasmed to his first intimate touch, my head snapping back into the couch with the electric shock of his touch. He cupped and squeezed the breast, fondled it, and finally leaned down to kiss it through the fabric that kept it captive.
He glanced up at me, a question. “It’s ok,” I whispered, “don’t stop,” as he leaned to the task, reaching behind and finding my dress’s zipper and quickly drawing it down, then finding the clasp of my bra and expertly (I was surprised to note) squeezing and releasing it. Then with a few small shifts and shimmies my dress was off my shoulders and the bra loosened until Ben reached his final goal. My breasts lay fully exposed to my brother who seemed suddenly awestruck.
“Beautiful,” he muttered, “absolutely beautiful”. I felt tears forming and beginning down my cheeks: I’d never placed much store in my breasts, never felt I placed well in the usual teenage girl competition of “who has the best boobs…whose boyfriends are most turned on by them…”. But my brother’s unguarded honesty struck me like a hammer. My breasts were beautiful, were sexy. I lay back and felt the tremors running through me as Ben’s hands found their way; skin on skin, then lips on breasts, then tongue on nipples. By now my body was beginning to shake uncontrollably. Then his hand left my breast and slid quickly down my body, lightly drawing up the hem of my little black dress and caressing my thigh, my hip, my navel. Breathing became harder, breaths became gasps as his hand slipped beneath my panties and found my vulva, cupping and squeezing it gently, lovingly. His touch struck me with almost a familiarity, as if we’d done this together a hundred times, as if we’d always been meant to do this. His fingers drifted, explored me, and then buried themselves in the fur that covered my mons. “You need a shave,” he whispered as I burst into loud laughter to hear my words repeated back to me. “Sshhhh, you’ll wake mom and dad,” he said. I buried my face in his neck to muffle my moans as he continued to touch me, to fondle me, to squeeze my mons until I could take it no longer and erupted with my orgasm.
As my body shook us both with my climax his hand withdrew to pull me closer to him, his body absorbing my tremors, his laughter telling me that he’d achieved his goal with me. For minutes my body endured the longest orgasm of my life so far, cushioned by my brother’s embrace, its waves slowly receding as his hands continued to caress my back, my sides, and my thighs. Exhausted, I finally stopped shaking, regret already growing that my climax had ended. I lay against him for long minutes as my breathing returned to normal and my thoughts turned to teasing. “You might not have brought me a Christmas present, Ben, but I’m sure you can find some stocking stuffers for me” as my hand reached down and traced the bulge in his trousers, making my double entendre obvious.
“Up,” my brother curtly ordered, as he drew back from me. My elation vanished as I expected to be banished from the living room and to be sent to my room. But as I sat up Ben immediately reached over, lightly grasped my dress, and pulled it over my head. He sat back for a second, his eyes traveling up and down my near-naked body as I, conscious that only my panties remained, shivered under his appraisal, the hunger in his eyes growing by the second. Finally, putting his finger to his lips he took my hand, gathered up my dress and bra, and led me quietly to the basement stairs.
We could have been a couple of burglars, so quiet and cautious, climbing down the stairs, skipping the ones that we knew might squeak, until we were safely into the basement. Ben pushed the door shut and finally released my hand, taking me into his arms for our first standing kiss, Ben leaning down to me, me bending my neck to meet his lips, our tongues met for the first time; tentative at first but soon dancing joyously, learning, exploring, and tasting. Ben knew it was my turn now as I began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it quickly over his head, then just as quickly addressing his belt and its buckle, releasing his trousers as they fell to the floor. I fell to my knees then and lightly passed my lips across his bulging underwear, feeling the wetness of his pre-cum that dampened the fabric.
I reached up, my hands shaking slightly, and drew the band of his briefs down, pulling it so that it could clear his fully erect penis as it sprang out as if happy to join our private party. I gasped. Yes, I admit that I gasped when my brother’s cock sprang out inches from my eyes. I don’t know what I expected; I’d had sex ed at school, of course and I’d watched a bit - yes, just a bit - of porn online, but this was real. This was a man’s fully erect penis inches from my face. Maybe it was to prove to me that this was all real, this was all happening, but I reached up tentatively and touched Ben’s cock lightly with my fingertips, as if they were calipers and were measuring it’s thickness (which was considerable). Those same fingers were well acquainted with my vaginal opening and my mind shot to the immediate calculation: how was my opening going to accommodate that thick cock?
Then almost in a clinical way I stretched my thumb and index finger along its length and gasped again when I realized I could barely span his length. Now my measurement was abstract; I had nothing to compare it to, as my vagina had never welcomed anything longer than my fingers. And then, of course, there was the trifling issue of my hymen. I’d never had sex. My mind works in a curious way; I’m prone to making comparisons all the time and one shot into my mind: comparing my fingers with my brother’s cock was like comparing a chopstick with a hammer handle. And I’d never been fucked by a hammer handle. But, I realized, there’s always a first time. And I knew if you can only have one first time, the guy I wanted to have it with was right in front of me.
My clinician’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted as I came to my senses and heard Ben’s quiet moans. I’d been totally oblivious to how my touches were affecting him, but there was no doubt about that how. Curious, I wrapped my hand gently around his cock, squeezed, and was rewarded by his deep, guttural groan. Wondering how far this could go I gently stroked him until his hands, almost spasmodically, grasped my head. Feeling more and more sexual power flooding my body I leaned forward and kissed his glans and licked the pre cum from it. It seemed a huge, angry mushroom to me, red, swollen, and glistening now with my tongue’s moisture. Knowing that I might push my brother over the edge, knowing that I was tempting beyond all limits, I leaned further and inhaled the musk of his sex as I took him into my mouth, as my lips encircled him as my hand had only seconds before, as I pressed down as far as I could - probably only half his length - and answered for myself a question I’d had since my early teens: what would it be like to suck a man’s cock. I had my answer; I loved it and I loved that it was my brother’s cock in my mouth, my brother’s pre cum that I was tasting. I knew that I wanted to do this for him, I knew I wanted to suck my brother until he came even though I’d never taken a boy…or a man…in my mouth, but knew it was not to be tonight.
I rose and pushed him lightly so that he scrambled back onto his bed, throwing the covers aside for us in the cool room. If my body’s rising heat was any sign I doubted we would need blankets as we fell back onto the bed together. All restraints were gone now as kiss after kiss, touch after touch followed each other. Words were unnecessary, almost useless as our hands wandered, caressed, fondled. I even stopped breathing for a moment as Ben found, fondled, and kissed my breasts, taking his time, driving my mad with his roaming tongue, with his lips closing slowly on each nipple in turn, sucking, licking while all the while his warm hand had glided down and found my mound again. Again he squeezed my gently, again I could feel my orgasm approaching until he slipped his middle finger into my wet opening, the first time anything other than my own fingers had gone there. It was too much. His lips, his tongue, and now his finger gently probing. I erupted - there’s no other word for it - into the hardest, longest orgasm that I’d ever had. My grunts became louder and louder as words returned to me: “Oh god, Ben, I…UNNNHHH…don’t stop…DON’T STOP…” loud enough that he laughed even as he fed my climax with his thrusting finger, neither of us concerned about my euphoric shouts being heard.
Finally he stopped, still laughing, and returned to kissing me. I was so wrapped in my exhausted sexual rapture that I could hardly return his kisses. But only for a few moments. We both knew the next step but I broke our kisses and lightly pushed him back a few inches from me. “Ben, I know I want you and I know you want me. But I know maybe I’ve been unfair? Maybe I’ve been leading you on. Are we really going to do this? I mean…it feels incredibly good to be with you like this, like I’ve wanted it for a long time and didn’t even know I wanted it. But it’s wrong, isn’t it? I mean it’s not only wrong, it’s a crime. And if we do this I’m not sure I can only do it once. And we can never go back, can we?”
He lay with me for interminable minutes, his hands drifting up and down my body as if his caresses spoke for him until “Of course it’s wrong, sis. But wrong for who? Who are we hurting? No one. ‘Can’t go back’? I don’t want to go back, Ginny, I want this as much as you do and I have probably wanted it as long as as you have. I love you and not just as my sister. I want to give you that love, Ginny. I want to be your lover.” That was enough for me and all thoughts of taboo, of crime, of regret disappeared in an instant.
Taking my brother in my mouth, lying with him with our bodies’ skin in maximum, constant contact, feeling his lips and tongue on my breast had released a flood of moisture into my pussy but now there was a different flooding as my tears poured down my cheek and onto Ben’s chest. Tears of joy, tears of love.
My final words to him were “are you ready with my stocking stuffer now?” and laughed as my wandering hand had assured me that my brother was more ready for me than he’d ever been. I rolled onto my back, encouraging his wordless response as he shifted and maneuvered between my spreading thighs. Our gaze never broke as he reached down and guided his cock towards my opening, my gasp accompanying its first touch as he moved its head up and down in the most intimate touch of our lives so far. “Gently,” I whispered, knowing that my plea was unnecessary.
As my juices joined his pre cum, as his cock became more and more lubricated my need…no, my craving…became intolerable until he finally whispered “Ok?”
“Yes, please. Now, Ben, now. Just fuck me, Ben, just fuck your little sister.” It was like a trigger, like I’d detonated some sexual bomb within my brother as he began pushing into me, but pushing slowly. More gasps, more tremors as my vaginal muscles were stretched for the very first time. More elation as they were stretched by my brother, by someone I loved deeply. He honored my request with his gentleness. Looking back and having had multiple sexual experiences with other men, I don’t know how my brother could control himself that night, how he could hold back so much as he entered me for the first time. Had I been him I think my eagerness would have driven me straight into me. But not my brother; no, Ben pushed an inch or so into me, his engorged glans making way for the rest of his stiff cock. He pushed in an inch, withdrew, then pushed in again adding an inch to his depth. All the while our eyes were locked on each other.
Finally after three thrusts his adventurous glans met my hymen. Ben’s eyes widened immediately. “It’s all right,” I breathed, pulling his head down beside mine so that I could whisper “go ahead, bro, it’s ok”. And with that my brother withdrew almost entirely and thrust his hardest probe yet as my body flinched with the small stab of pain that signaled my brother taking my virginity.
“Ok, Ginny?”
“Yes, just give us a second,” I replied and felt a wave of love envelope us as my brother, probably more eager, more aroused than I was, restrained himself and waited…for me. “Ok, now” I said finally as he withdrew an inch or so and then pressed fully into me. My gasping sigh was mixed with his primal moan as he finally reached his full length in me, as my question was answered; “yes,” I thought, “I can accommodate this hammer handle. In fact, I love this hammer handle.” But I had little time for thoughts as immediately after I told him quietly “Ben, I love you,” he began that rhythm as old as time, as old as our species as he withdrew almost entirely from me and then gently pushed back into me. And then did it again, and again, and again, slowly increasing our tempo until I began to instinctively meet his rhythm, raising my hips slightly from the bed to meet each of his thrusts and all pain vanished.
But I didn’t have to join in his thrusts for more than a few seconds, it seemed, as my third orgasm of the evening struck. I’ve read all the cliches about sex that were ever written, I expect, but they’re cliches because they’re true. My orgasm hit me like a freight train, like a hurricane in full force as my body arched, shook, and lifted both of us from the bed before I fell back onto it, shaking as wave after wave of sexual rapture raced through my body. Practically all thought was banished except for one that survived my ecstasy: “if every time my brother makes me cum is better and better, will sex with him kill me?” My orgasm hit me so hard that I hadn’t even realized that Ben had paused his thrusts while my body convulsed with pleasure beneath him.
As the waves receded Ben didn’t do the obvious; he didn’t immediately return to fucking me. We lay together instead quietly for long moments as my tremors became farther and farther apart, my brother patiently leaving me to my pleasure. Finally he kissed me lightly, repeated “I love you, Ginny” and slowly resumed his thrusts. Slowly at first and then faster until we were racing in our rhythm, our bodies slamming together almost desperately as if this were the only time, the last time that we could ever share ourselves like this, our last incestuous coupling, the last time in our lives we would ever fuck. Finally he stopped suddenly, lifted himself above me and managed “Ginny, I’m going to…” before he dropped onto me and made his strongest and deepest thrust into me yet as I was stunned to feel his cock pulsing within me, over and over, as he pumped jet after jet of his seed into my womb. As Ben’s body became rigid with his climax it was too much for me and, yes, I was launched with him into my fourth orgasm. Our bodies shook together for long seconds, what seemed an eternity of ecstasy until, together, our bodies lost their rigidity and melted into each other.
What can you say after sharing the most profound experience of your life to that point? My first words after my first sex, my first intercourse, my first fuck with my brother was “Well, that’s one hell of a good stocking stuffer that you’ve got there, Ben; my stocking feels totally stuffed,” at which we both laughed. We lay together, fingers idly tracing the other’s curves, muscles, spaces neither feeling the need for more words. At length my mind wandered and I asked “what’s college like, Ben? Do you have” - as I poked him gently -“ lots of girlfriends? Lots of s-e-x?”
Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Well, a lot of new experiences, Ginny, lots of adjusting; I’m not sure high school prepares you for how different college will be. Suddenly you’re kind of on your own, free to do a lot of things you never could before. And there’s some…ummm…experimenting. Not all of it in the labs, if you know what I mean.”
“And speaking of experiments, how’s that test tube of yours right now?” I asked, my hand drifting down to find my brother’s semi-flaccid cock, rapidly losing its “semi” state under my touch. Within seconds, it seemed, Ben was again hard - very hard - for me as my fingers idly stroked him. “Maybe I could experiment with you now?” I smiled. Our bodies rapidly adjusted themselves and after a couple of quick kisses Ben entered me again this time more quickly, more easily, my vaginal muscles seeming already to welcome him as their new BFF. I was still very tight, my muscles again gripping him firmly but his wet cock entered me more smoothly, almost effortlessly as my brother’s thrusts seemed to require less effort on his part.
And certainly less patience as we both exulted in the rapid cadence his thrusts reached within seconds. My legs involuntarily wrapped themselves around him, pulling him even more deeply into me. Our bodies rocked together in a smooth movement, bed springs announcing our tempo until together we reached our peaks and came together, our first (of many) mutual orgasm. I wanted this to last. I wanted my brother’s cock to stay inside me forever as I rode orgasm after orgasm. For the briefest moment my mind rebounded to that night Ben arrived at our door, snow-laden, to the elation I felt at his arrival and then to the fear and hesitation I felt later that evening. I knew with unshakable certainty that those fears and hesitancy were gone forever. I continued to cling to Ben for a long time after our orgasms had gone. I felt the wetness we shared; our perspiring bodies, my vaginal juices soaking my womb, fighting for room with the flood of my brothers’ seed.
All good things, even the incestuous ones, have to end as I listened to the soft plopping sound of my brother leaving my body and felt our mixed fluids now flowing slowly onto my thighs. It was late, very late and we both knew the next part. By now it was Christmas, so I leaned over Ben and whispered “Merry Christmas, bro. I love you. And I love your stocking stuffers.” I kissed him one last time and rose from his bed, grabbed my clothes and quickly threw them on, guarding against the off chance I might meet one of our parents on the way to my bedroom. Once in my own room I surveyed my clothes for any telltale evidence and was surprised to find none. I fell into bed and within seconds was fast asleep.
The next morning was unexpectedly normal. I had somehow thought that the earth had tilted on its axis, that the whole world would somehow know what Ben and I had done in his bedroom on Christmas Eve, that we would walk around all day shamefaced and guilty, but…no. Somehow neither Ben nor I felt furtive or clandestine. Maybe it’s the weight of tradition, of the standard routine of Christmas that protected us, the eggs Benedict breakfast, the morning unwrapping of presents, the mid-day lolling about with Christmas movies and specials and finally, of course, Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. Not once did Ben and I exchange embarrassed glances. Other than an exceptionally affectionate blanket that seemed to enwrap my brother and me, as I say things were normal.
And the rest of the holiday continued just like that. Ben and I were able to steal numerous interludes when our parents were out and about with their annual visits to friends and we made the best of every opportunity. Our lovemaking was mainly in his basement bedroom but occasionally we threw all risk out the window and had sex in my bed. Finally, the best of all (other than our first sex on Christmas Eve) was New Years Eve. Maybe my brother and I had something about ‘eves’ but we were elated when our parents continued their own annual tradition of dinner and dancing with friends at a downtown hotel and then staying overnight in one of its rooms. Ben and I could hardly wait for their departure; all week we’d fended off friends’ invitations to parties with lame excuses of other parties we were going to or faux family commitments. As our parents’ car turned the corner at the end of our street I literally fell into my brother’s arms as we tumbled onto our living room couch. I’d thought ahead and had closed the curtains from prying neighbors’ eyes. Ben and I returned to the same couch with the same postures and the same Christmas tree lights softly glowing as they had a week before and as all clothing was heaped on the floor. Fully naked we wasted little time as Ben fell onto his back and I quickly straddled him. By now we’d realized the particular thrill of watching my brother’s cock disappear into me and this was no exception as I began to rise and fall on his staff, as I leaned down to him so that he could kiss me and then take each nipple in turn between his lips. We’d already done this several times in the past week, but this time it seemed to pass all measure of pleasure; two centers of ecstasy being stimulated by my brother at the same time. I was thrust into my first orgasm within minutes and Ben wasn’t far behind as his now familiar pulsing began and with its instant warmth as his sperm filled my womb.
We celebrated the arrival of the New Year in several positions, several times, at several locations in our house until after our final coupling in my bed we fell into exhausted sleep.
It was over a late breakfast that my brother and I finally had “the talk”. I began with “Ben, where are we going? This has been the absolute best week of my life, but…where are we going? On the one hand I don’t think I could stop with you. I think I need you more than I could have imagined a week ago. But on the other hand how can we continue? Do you want to continue? I mean, what about boyfriends, girlfriends? And you’ll be leaving in a couple of days to go back to school.”
Ben’s reply was slow in coming and as he finally took my hand his answer told me that he’d obviously had the same thoughts and concerns. “I feel the same, sis; I need you more than I would have thought possible. I don’t think I could stop either. I think we can have boyfriends and girlfriends without too much of a problem. I mean, long term I want to marry and have kids; I don’t think you would want to be my wife, if you know what I mean.” I did know what he meant and agreed. “But short term there’ll be Spring Break in a couple of months; we could go somewhere where no one would know us. I want to do that, Ginny. And long term, well…I didn’t mention this but our dorms are co-ed. And they have a sibling rule, that siblings are able to share a double room. I’m sure they don’t care if the siblings are two sisters, two brothers, or sister and brother. It would be perfect. But you’ll have to get admitted to the college first.”
That did it for me; it was the greatest motivation imaginable for me to do well academically and having half of my final high school year left gave me just enough time to bring my marks up. And I did. Our parents were surprised at my new enthusiasm for study, at my reduced social calendar as I focussed on school, and elated at my first class marks graduating. And it was my turn to be elated when Ben finished his first year and returned home for the summer. And the story of that summer is for another time. But, yes, I did get admitted to Ben’s college and we did get a double room so that with my “stocking” and Ben’s “stocking stuffer” we had Christmas every day of the year.