Loading...Becoming an adult and moving out on your own is never a guarantee that life will be easier. We, my sister Stacy and I, had strict parents growing up. It wasn’t so much that they were always in our faces, and brow-beating us with their disappointment, it was more that they were constantly busy with their jobs and their causes, and expected us to live up to a certain standard so they could worry about other things.
There were many summers where our parents would jet off on some humanitarian expedition and leave us with our grandparents on their ‘ranch’. So, basically, Stacy and I spent a lot of time finding our own things to do, and learning about life anyway we could.
Nevertheless, once Stacy and I finished high school and moved out on our own we were both glad to be free of the ‘quiet oppression’ of our childhood. Stacy is a year older than I am so she got out first. Not ready for college she moved in with a friend and got a job, glad to be away from our childhood home but not sure where she really wanted to go yet.
As soon as I turned 18 and finished high school I was right behind her. The only difference was that I was ready to start college and move on with my life. One thing I will say, even though our parents were hardly ever there, they did have money, and so I only needed a part time job to pay bills. My college was paid for. This was obviously a sore spot with Stacy. She wasn’t mad at me in any way, but she was a bit ruffled by the fact that our parents decided that unless she was in school she could fend for herself. In fact, she actually encouraged me to take as many classes as I could and make them pay for it all.
As time went on we sort of lost contact with our parents. Not that we were ever close, but after we moved out we hardly ever spoke with them, except to make sure the tuition was getting paid. But Stacy and I stayed in almost constant contact. Because it was mostly just the two of us growing up we had developed a special bond that would never be broken, no matter where we were living or what we were doing.
That meant that whenever we had personal problems or issues, I was the first person she would call for advice or just to talk, and vice versa. Such was the case when, just after I turned 23 and was close to finishing my degree, Stacy called me with a serious crisis. She had been in and out of relationships almost since she moved out on her own. And some of those relationships weren’t as wholesome as we would all like. This was the basis of her current situation.
She had gotten involved with a guy that, at first, seemed very responsible. He was in the military and had a fairly bright future. But about two months into the relationship Stacy discovered she was pregnant. Boyfriend, who shall remain nameless, decided there was no way he was the father and immediately broke up with Stacy. Then he conveniently shipped out to Afghanistan a week later.
Stacy tried to stay in contact with him, clinging to a small hope that he would return and decide to do the right thing, despite his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with her or ‘that baby’. Then fate interceded when he was killed by a roadside bomb.
So now Stacy was pregnant and alone. There was no way my parents would ever understand. And as her pregnancy progressed she became more and more stressed about the future. Mainly because her roommate made it clear that she didn’t want to have to deal with a baby in the apartment. And when their lease came up for renewal, Stacy and her roommate parted ways, in unfortunately not-so-friendly terms.
There was no way I was going to let my big sister face it alone. And I really had no problem with a niece or nephew around. So I invited her to move in with me, for as long as she needed or wanted. In fact, I was really looking forward to it. I had the time and the space, and the resources to accommodate her. I still let dear old mom and dad pay for tuition, but I had already landed an internship that was guaranteed to become a full time position after I graduated. So in she moved.
She arrived on a Friday, which was good for me. I was able to spend the weekend helping her get moved in and settled. Stacy was already six months pregnant and was starting to tire more easily. So it worked out good for both of us.
Having another person in my townhouse took a bit getting used to. I had been living the bachelor lifestyle since starting college. So I had to make changes. But it turned out not to be so difficult. I didn’t date much so there was no girlfriend that had to adjust. And my work and school schedules were fairly consistent. We settled into a comfortable cohabitation in no time, enjoying each other’s company, and hanging out together whenever we could. Just like when we were kids.
In fact, we got very comfortable together. Two weeks, to the day, after she moved in, we were sitting on the couch watching a BluRay movie. It was a Friday night, and we had both already taken our evening showers and gotten ready for bed. She was in her nightshirt and I was wearing a pair of running shorts. And we sat together on the couch, even after the movie ended, just talking about old times. She had snuggled up under my arm with her head on my shoulder.
But old times for us aren’t the same as for other people. We spent a lot of time, just the two of us, making up life as we went. So it was a bit of a loaded, heavy question when Stacy asked, “Remember our summers on Grampy’s ranch?”
Now let me explain the significance of the question. When we were both in high school we spent our entire summers on our grandparent’s ranch, as I already mentioned. It really wasn’t as much a working ranch as it was a large plot of land that was mostly undeveloped and empty. Our grandparents weren’t very active and so Stacy and I spent almost the entire time wandering the property with no supervision.
The summer after my freshman year we discovered an old utility shed that wasn’t used for anything. It was about a half mile away from the main house, and over a ridge. I’m sure at one time it served a purpose, but by this time it was empty. We decided it would be our little get-away. We cleaned it up and brought in some blankets and folding chairs, and whatever else we could find to make it habitable. And we spent many days there, just sitting around, doing pretty much whatever we felt like.
Nothing productive that is. Since we didn’t have anyone else to socialize with, we turned to each other for companionship and other types of…human interaction. Our bond was such that we weren’t ashamed in any way of each other. And so we started to experiment with each other, attempting to learn about life and…sexuality. We were each other’s first kiss. Just to see what it was like one day we shared a kiss, then spent the afternoon making out.
As we got older our experimentation expanded into other areas that most would consider unacceptable. We exposed ourselves to each other, exploring our nudity as our bodies developed. This led to touching that wasn’t usually considered ok for siblings. She gave me my first hand job, and several more after. I touched her sex, bringing her to numerous orgasms. We even experimented with oral sex.
But we stopped short of intercourse. We had both decided we wouldn’t cross that line. And there were two main reasons that we both agreed on. Neither of us were ready to surrender our virginity, and we were both petrified of what would happen if she ended up pregnant. So while our activities were somewhat unwholesome, we had set a boundary and we never crossed it.
Now, here we sat, more than 6 years after our last contact. She was cuddled up to me tightly. I could feel her warmth mixing with mine. And I could smell her fresh-from-the-shower scent. Her hand was absently caressing my leg, just above my knee. And memories of those summer activities were already swirling in my mind. So her question was far from simple, as were the implications.
I chuckled at first, before responding. “I sure do. Those were…unique times.”
“I can’t believe we did all that stuff. I mean, we kinda went where normal people never go.” She added.
“Yeah. We did.” I mumbled absently.
We were quiet for a while. She continued to caress my leg, but her hand had moved up several inches. And I had unconsciously pulled her closer to me, while my other hand had somehow found it’s way to her bare thigh.
“Do you ever think about those things we did? Ever wonder if…” She left the question unfinished. She didn’t need to finish it. We were both thinking the same thing by then.
In response I said, “You mean, think about what it felt like to kiss you? To feel your lips on mine? To feel your tongue against mine? Like this?” And then I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. It was a gentle kiss that led to a second and third, more and more intimate. After a minute or so I continued in what can only be described as either a seduction or a lover’s reunion. “Think about the way your breasts felt in my hand?” And then my hand was cupping her swollen breast. She moaned and pressed into me even more.
I went on as she melted into me, bringing up a memory and following it with the same action. “Think about holding you close as I kissed your neck?” As I nuzzled her neck my hand moved up her thigh until I could feel the heat from her sex. “Do I ever think about kissing you…here…?” My fingers moved across the panties that covered her seeping pussy. Then after a few long seconds I slid off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of her. Moving between her legs I began kissing her thighs. After making her squirm for a moment from my kisses I took the next step, reaching under her sleep shirt and pulling her panties down. She responded by pulling her sleep shirt up above her waist, then lifting her ass to allow me to pull her panties off.
Tossing her moist panties aside I gently kissed her pussy lips, moving my tongue lightly up her slit until I was licking her clit. Stacy writhed in conflicted pleasure. We hadn’t done this in a long time, and the intimacy was awkward for both of us at first. But as I continued to lick her pussy and her clit, our old familiarity returned. There were obvious differences. We were both much older, and our bodies were fully developed. And she had shaved her pubic hair so that she was completely smooth beneath the swell of her pregnant belly.
She moaned as I pleasured her, running her fingers through my hair. But I didn’t bring her all the way to orgasm. I realized we had reached another turning point in our relationship, one that I secretly had been hoping for since the day she moved in. So I pulled back and looked up at her pleading eyes. “Do you remember the two reasons why we never went all the way?”
She took a sharp breath and gently bit her lower lip before responding. “We weren’t ready to lose our virginity. And we were afraid I might get pregnant.”
I nodded as she spoke. As she finished I began pulling my own shorts off, setting them aside with her panties. Then I moved myself back between her legs and put my hands on her hips. Looking into her hungry eyes I said plainly, “Looks like we’re out of excuses.”
With that she pulled me to her, kissing me hard, pressing her tongue against mine. We embraced each other, like two magnets that had been held apart for 6 years. Then she scooted her ass forward on the couch until she was sitting right on the edge. The move caused my rigid penis to press into her groin, sliding against her slippery slit.
We broke our kiss as I moved into a better position. She looked into my eyes again and whispered, “Make love to me, Richie. I’ve wanted this for so long. Make me yours finally.”
And I obeyed, placing my throbbing organ against the opening of her womanhood, and pressing forward. We both gasped as I entered her for the first time. Her pussy was hot and slick, and felt like heaven around by rigid cock. And then I began to move, slowly, in and out, making sweet love to my wonderful sister.
We moved slowly together for several amazing minutes, sharing frequent kisses, and whispering our love and pleasure. But the position we were in wasn’t as comfortable as we would both like, and the swell of her belly made things even less productive. So after a few minutes she stopped me and said, “Let’s switch places.”
I knew instantly what she had in mind and agreed it would be much better. So I moved back, reluctantly pulling out of her, so she could stand. Then I sat down in her place, close to the edge of the couch cushion. She fondled me for a few seconds while she kissed me, then turned around so that her back was to me. Placing her legs on either side of mine she lowered herself onto my lap, taking me back inside her as she sat down on me.
In this position I was able to press all the way into her, and we were able to move much more freely. As we resumed our love making she lifted her nightshirt over her head and tossed it aside. We were finally both completely naked. As we moved together she leaned back into me and I wrapped my hands around her, cupping her swollen breasts and gently kneading them. And after only another couple of minutes we were both breathing more heavily, moaning and grunting in an erotic duet.
We continued to get louder as our orgasms built. Then with a loud moan she arched her back. “Haaaaaaaaaahhhhh…I’m cummmminggg.” Her body trembled, and I could feel the vibrations in her pussy as I continued to pump in and out of her. But I only managed a few more thrusts. Her orgasm was enough to bring me to the edge and then I was pumping a load of my own seed into her pregnant belly.
We remained that way for several minutes until we came down from our climaxes, my arms wrapped around her as she lay back against my chest, my softening cock still inside her but threatening to slip out. Then I whispered into her neck as I kissed her lovingly, “I think it’s time for bed.”
She responded by turning herself around and kissing me. “I love you so much, Richie.” She stood and I was right behind her, and we held each other for a moment before we walked back to my bedroom, leaving our clothes strewn about the floor.
We spent the next hour getting reacquainted. Her seductive curves were familiar, but more mature than when we had first touched. Her breasts, which were starting to sell with her pregnancy, were clearly bigger and nicely formed. The swell of her hips showed that she was no longer a girl, but a fully grown woman.
We explored every inch of our bodies, with our hands and our mouths. Feeling her mouth on my cock again after all these years brought back fond memories that I was ready to replace with new ones. Tasting her pussy again was like rediscovering a favorite wine. Then we made love again, slowly savoring our long overdue union, before falling asleep, tangled together in our nakeness.
We have spent each night since in the same bed, our bed, making love, knowing that we had finally found our perfect mates. About a month later I went out and bought her a ring. It was a wedding ring. And even though we could never legally be married, we were content to live together as if we were. And since we already had the same last name, nobody was the wiser.
Three months later the baby was born. It was healthy baby girl, which we are intent to raise together as mother and father. We sent a birth announcement to our parents, letting them know about the birth of their first grandchild, and vaguely explaining her origins. But we never heard back, we assume because they’re too proud to accept a bastard grandchild.
And if that upsets them, then they probably won’t be too pleased about the second baby that is now on the way. But this time there’s no doubt about it’s paternity. And this time it’s father will be sticking around.
As I look at my beautiful, pregnant bride, I’m filled with awe at life’s good fortunes. And I can hardly wait for the wonderful life that awaits us.