Sister in shower

In July following my junior year in high school, my sister and
I reached a new plateau in our physical relationship. I bought or
borrowed porno magazines on occasion, from curiosity or for jacking
off to, and I knew Alex studied them too. Not that she made a
secret of it — we had no secrets — but sometimes I saw her stare
at a photo more intensely than usual and then turn the page
hurriedly. When she wasn’t around, I’d leaf through the magazine
and try to identify the picture that had startled even her. I knew
about “regular” sex, now, so I only bought magazines that featured
the most perverse or perverted acts I could imagine. And I soon
discovered that the most graphically explicit photos were the ones
that mesmerized Alex.

That summer, I was on a secondhand anal sex binge. Those photos
seemed to arouse me even more than the pictures of oral sex in
which I had submerged myself the year before. What I found
definitely unappealing, however — in addition to the often bored
expressions of the professional models — was the fact that their
presumed long experience with anal sex left them with gaping
assholes that rivaled their cunts. Not very sexy, I thought.

One afternoon, when Dad had driven Mother over to her sister’s
house for the afternoon — so we two had the place to ourselves —
Alex came in from playing tennis. I was sitting on the edge of my
bed, studying again one of the ass-fucking magazines. The humidity
was high and she was running with sweat. Her polo shirt was stuck
to her back and even her white socks looked soggy. She clumped into
my room, sat down heavily in my desk chair, and blew out her
cheeks. Her coppery hair was tied back in a damp ponytail and her
freckled face was red from exertion. A definite locker room aroma
surrounded her but I found it somehow erotic.

I studied her over the top of my magazine. “Just a guess, sis,
but I think you need a shower. A long one.”

“Boy, do I ever!” She pushed off her shoes without untying the
laces and wrinkled her nose. “I smell like the animal tent at the
circus.” She stood and pulled the shirt over her head; there were
also sweat marks on her bra and rivulets running down between her
breasts. As she pushed her shorts down and stepped out of them, she
saw what I had been reading and grinned.

“Interesting pictures, aren’t they? Have you ever done that?
Screwed a girl in the ass?” She knew perfectly well I hadn’t. For
that matter, except for each other, we were both still virgins.

“I wonder what it really feels like. . . .” She unhooked her bra
and dropped it with her shorts and socks on the floor. We were so
casual now about undressing in front of each other, I was aware of
her increasing nudity only peripherally.

“Wanna join me?” I looked up as she pushed down her panties,
managing to wiggle twice as much as necessary to get out of them.
At 16 she was already becoming wise in the ways of seducing a man.
But she’d had more practice with a more appreciative audience than
most of her girlfriends. Why not? I thought. We were sharing
showers pretty regularly, now; it was nice to have someone scrub
your back for you and to do it for them. And wet, slippery bodies
were fun for other reasons.

“Yeah, okay.” I stood and shucked off the jams I usually wore
around the house in hot weather. Alex was already headed out the
door and I noticed that the sweat coursing down her back was now
continuing over the swell of her ass.

When I arrived in the bathroom a few seconds later she was
already filling it up with steam. Alex loved very hot showers —
she claimed it opened up her pores so she could scrub the dirt off
easier. She swung open the door and looked over her shoulder
expectantly. I was right behind her and I stood back out of the
spray as she rotated under the shower head, arms upstretched, the
water ricocheting off her head.

It was a big shower stall, completely tiled in white; it had
been installed by the previous owner for reasons we didn’t know. It
was almost the size of an elevator car and could probably hold six
or eight adults if they knew each other real well. Who knows, maybe
it had. But it was certainly large enough for two people and for
most activities they might invent, as we had long since discovered.
The shower head was set high up on one wall and was the kind that
provided a variety of pulsations and fineness of spray. That could
be fun, too.

Alex backed up to me and flipped her wet hair back over her
head. She always did that, but I always closed my eyes in time so
I no longer got whipped across the eyeballs.

“Do me?” This was the routine we had settled into. I soaped her
back (and often her front) and then she soaped mine (and ditto).
Often that was all that occurred — just a companionable shower
together. Since we were nearly always available to each other, the
sexual pressure had become controllable. But it was always there,
waiting, when we wanted it to emerge.

I squirted the bottle of her favorite decadent bath soap across
the top of her shoulder blades and began rubbing my hands briskly
over her smooth, muscular back. Up over her shoulders, a pause to
massage her neck muscles (she purred when I did that), up and down
her sides as she raised her arms. I liked the feel of her rib cage
under my soapy fingers. Up under the angle of her shaved armpits,
back down her arms, which she now held out behind her. She
stretched and arched her back a little and sighed with pleasure.
This was often almost as good as sex to her. Another squirt of soap
across her lower back, then my hands were spread out over her ass,
squeezing a little (she expected it), then moving around the sides
of her hips to run my fingers over her pelvic bones. Then she
turned around and I saw the glow in her eyes that meant she didn’t
want this to be a quick shower, just to get clean.

More soap across her collarbone while she stood with her head
tilted back, neck arched, breasts out-thrust. Her nipples were
erect. My hands moved across her shoulders again. Her eyes were
shut against the soap but she smiled as I took her by the throat
and slid my hand up and down beneath her chin. An old joke: I had
once pretended to s******e her in the shower while making sound
effects from _Psycho._ I ran my hands across her flat, tight
diaphragm and stomach and then down her sides again to her hips. My
cock was half-erect as I pulled her closer to me.

She clasped her hands behind my neck and we kissed quietly for
a few seconds before she disengaged.

“Not yet,” she whispered.

Now it was my turn. She turned me around and rubbed soap across
my shoulders and my back, down my sides, and across my ass — which
she also squeezed (because I also expected it). Then she did
something different. Running her finger slowly down the crack
between my cheeks, which by itself made me shiver, she pressed her
middle finger against my anus. It startled me for a moment but my
cock instantly sprang to full attention. Her nails were forever
breaking off and at the moment that particular fingernail was
trimmed back short. She pressed her body against my back and pushed
her finger about one joint deep into my ass, and wiggled it back
and forth. The sensation was incredibly sexy. I knew I had no
homosexual urges, but I wondered if this was what it felt like to
be fucked.

“Like it?” she whispered over my shoulder.

“Umm-hmmm! When you do it,” I qualified.

“You know those magazines? The ass-fucking? I want to try that!”
She wiggled her finger again and then pulled it out.

“Are you sure?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this, not to my
sister. I certainly didn’t want to hurt her and anal sex looked
like it could be pretty painful, especially the first time. I told
her that in a hesitant tone.

“If it hurts too much, we’ll stop. Besides, I know you wouldn’t
hurt me on purpose.” One of her hands had wrapped itself around my
cock and was squeezing a little and stroking a little. Her other
hand clutched her own crotch and I could see one finger busily
stroking her clit. She was determined to push us both into this.

“C’mon, please? Haven’t you wondered what it would feel like to
fuck a girl up the ass? Especially me? Don’t you want to fuck your
sister in the ass?” Well, she was right about that. And when such
blunt language came out of that sweet little face it usually had
the effect she desired. I turned her around to face the wall that
had a porcelain rod in it and lifted her hands toward it.

Alex bent forward, gasping a little and gripped the rod with
both hands. I knew my sister. She had really gotten herself worked
up thinking about this. She bent her back even more as she spread
her feet a little apart on the slick tile and cocked her ass
upward.

“Put it . . . in! I want to feel it going up my ass — I really
do! I can imagine it but I want to feel it! Please — put it in!”
Her head was swinging from side to side and her wet, cascading hair
swished.

I reached up to the shelf above the shower head and grabbed a
jar of skin-softener. I had used it occasionally to masturbate
with, for extra lubrication. Scooping out a handful of the cream,
I slathered it up and down my cock, which twitched in anticipation.
Then I pushed my slippery middle finger up into her rectum as far
as I could reach — three inches or more. It was snug, tight, but
I could fit. Alex gasped once and sucked in through her teeth. Her
ass trembled and her sphincter tightened around my finger, trying
to pull it out of joint. My god, what was this going to be like?!

I slid my finger out and maneuvered the head of my cock into
position, pressing against her puckered anus. Slowly, carefully, I
began pushing into her. She gasped louder and her knuckles on the
wall rod tightened. I paused; I didn’t want to hurt her, no matter
how much we both wanted to do this.

“No– It’s all right! Go on, go on!” She shivered in the steamy
shower and I could feel the motion in my cock. I held her hips and
pushed forward harder. My cock slid upward, inward without
stopping. In another moment it was completely buried. My pubic hair
seemed to sprout from between her cheeks and my balls were pressed
against the space between her cunt and her asshole. I moved my cock
in and out a fraction of an inch, just to see if I could. So tight!
It felt like I was being swallowed by a suction pump. Alex was
breathing rapidly and moaning.

“Does it hurt?” I asked anxiously.

“A little — no — it feels so good — oh — shit — oh — it
feels huge! Bigger than it ever did the other way! Oh — God —
fuck me, fuck me!”

As I began pulling it out halfway and pushing it back up into
her, I felt myself come just a little. No, not yet! I want all of
this first! But the small amount of cum just increased the
lubrication in the depths of her ass and made it easier for me to
pump back and forth.

Alex was gasping and breathing loudly in rhythm with my pumping,
just as she did when my cock was ramming in and out of her cunt.
Her cunt was always nice and tight, but her ass was fantastic! The
inner surface of her was smooth and soft but those shit-pushing
muscles were strong. When I pushed into her, she, without thinking
about it, pushed back; when I pulled back for the next stroke, her
muscles tried to grasp my cock even more tightly. It was the most
erotic sensation I had ever felt.

I couldn’t see them, but I knew her breasts were swinging back
and forth. I wanted badly to reach around and squeeze them, but if
I gave up my pelvic clutch we’d land on the hard tile floor. I
interrupted my pace, pulling out almost all the way and then
cramming my cock back into her as hard as I could. My balls slapped
against her ass. She gave a louder cry and arched her head
backward.

“Oh — ah — I love your cock up in me — it’s so big I feel
like I’m popping! Oh — it’s good, it’s good — shit — keep —
fucking me — don’t — stop!”

Sweat was running off my forehead and my hair, the soap was
getting in my eyes, and I didn’t care. I could feel the pressure
building and there was no way I could stop, even if either of us
wanted me to. I squeezed my sister’s hips to signal her that my
climax was on its way.

“Yes — me too — I’m there! — oh — shit — that’s — so
good!”

I increased speed, gasping as loudly as she did. And then I
came, in great, shuddering, shocking contractions. I tried
unconsciously to push into her even farther as I ejected millions
of sperm into her lower intestine. I almost laughed at that
unbidden thought, but I was lightheaded and gasping for breath. Now
her sphincter was rapidly dilating and tightening, and that helped
the ejaculations to go on and on, longer than ever before. From the
hoarse, throaty sounds Alex was making I knew she was climaxing
with me. God, was there ever a feeling like this?

Alex’s grip on the wall rod was loosening. She was so out of it
from her own multiple climaxes, I was afraid she might smash her
face on the tile wall. I got my arms around her hips as she began
to slide downward, and I slid with her, both of us panting loudly.
Her ass was pressed against my groin and she was still impaled on
my cock. We somehow landed on the bottom of the shower stall
without hurting ourselves. She was face-down with her cheek
cushioned on her wrist, gulping the hot, steamy air. I was lying on
top of her, also struggling to get my heart rate down, supporting
most of my weight on my shaking arms. If my elbows unlocked, we’d
both crash. My cock was still buried to its root in her rectum. The
passage was still so snug it had no room to contract. And I was
content to leave it there awhile longer.

What finally brought us around, rousing us out of our
half-swoon, was the water. It was getting colder and the steam was
disappearing. I had no idea how long we had fucked or how long we
had lain on the floor, but it was long enough to use up all the hot
water. I had sunk down on my elbows — my arms could never have
lasted that long — and slowly withdrew from Alex’s fantastic
asshole.

“Ohhhhh . . . .” She moaned softly, perhaps feeling the loss. I
leaned over and kissed her lingeringly at the base of her spine. So
beautiful, my sister, so filled with me for however long it had
been. It’s your decision, but I think we’ll do it again.

I sat back on my heels so the now icy water splashed off her
back. My reaction to the change had been gradual; her’s was
electric. She gasped at the shock, her green eyes snapped open, and
she struggled to get to her knees and then to her feet. I stood up,
still a bit shaky myself, and helped her. It took a minute, but
then she deliberately stepped back under the water and rinsed the
sweat out of her hair. She turned slowly in position, combing her
fingers through the dark red strands, while I stood and watched.
God, I loved her.

She saw my expression and her peculiar sense of humor got the
better of her. She smiled and stepped back to me, hooking one arm
around my neck. With her other hand, she took my hand and slipped
it, palm up, between her slightly parted thighs. She can’t possibly
want to screw again, I thought. She brought my mouth down to hers
and kissed me. I stroked my hand back between her legs, delighting
still in the smooth, wet flesh and the curly hair brushing my
wrist. And then she tapped the tip of her little red tongue against
my front teeth, pressed her thighs closer together, and pissed in
my hand!

That’s how well we understood each other — that she could do
something that crude at such an emotional moment and know that I
would be amused. The cold shower splashed off my shoulders while my
cupped hand filled with her warm urine, and I cackled at the joke.
Here, now, under these circumstances, it *was* funny! I extricated
my hand, trying to hold on to some of the pale yellow liquid, while
she grinned mischievously. I squeezed her cheeks — not roughly —
to force her mouth open while she squealed and tried to bat my hand
away.

“I ought to dribble this down your throat, you know. But I’m a
nice guy so I won’t.” Instead, I trickled it across her breasts.
“You can have it back,” I added. “You might run out!”

* * * * *

I had to stay late at school one September day that year,
working on a project for journalism, so I was in a hurry to get
home. So I didn’t stop at the restroom before I left, and by the
time I reached the house, I had to take a piss so badly I was
walking knock-kneed. I got halfway down the downstairs hall and
that the bathroom door was closed — Mother must be in there —
made a U-turn and hurried upstairs. I dropped my books in the hall
and charged into the upstairs bathroom, already struggling with my
zipper.

Alex looked up startled from the toilet seat, her jeans around
her ankles and her shirt rucked up around her waist. I moaned.
“What’s your problem?” she wanted to know.

“I can’t wait!” I was fishing out my cock. “I’ll have to use the
shower stall!”

“Hey, wait! There’s room here. . . .” She spread her legs wider
and slid back a little on the toilet seat. “Just aim between my
legs, for chrissake.”

I didn’t hesitate. I stepped in front of her, trying not to get
my feet tangled in her pants, pointed my cock at the front slope of
the bowl, and let go. In my effort to control the high-pressure
yellow stream, I aimed too far forward and managed to splash both
myself and my sister’s legs.

She threw up her hands in surprise. “Watch it, Michael! Here,
gimme that. . . .” She reached forward and took my cock in her hand
like she was milking a cow, and pulled me forward. I had to let go
of it and quickly support myself on her shoulders to keep from
falling on her. She used both hands to pull me to within a few
inches of her pussy and grinned up at me. My cock was engorged with
internal pressure and completely filled both her hands. “You can
lead a horse to water,” she laughed.

The golden stream just went on and on. She watched speculatively
and then aimed closer to her crotch. The spray was now wetting the
outer part of her bush.

“What are you doing, Alex? Do you want me to piss on you?”

“I dunno, I’ve never tried it. Might be fun as an experiment,
though.” Alex would try almost anything at least once, and, these
days, the more unusual the better. She hadn’t bitten off some guy’s
penis or fucked a Great Dane (as far as I knew), but otherwise I
suspected her taboo list was pretty short. I finally finished
draining the tank and took my cock back so I could make sure it got
the customary final shake, and tucked in back in my slacks. Alex
looked pleased at the strange look I gave her as I left the
bathroom.

What I didn’t know was that one of Alex’s girl friends had a
brother in college who belonged to a fraternity that claimed to own
the largest lending library of pornographic books and magazines in
the state. The brother was presently interested in fringe erotica,
having apparently become bored with standard fuck-and-suck scenes,
and Alex and her friend had been spending some time in his absence
evaluating photos of bestiality, bondage, spanking, enemas,
ass-fucking, and erotic urination — “golden showers.” Why my
sister was turned on by this particular sexual variation I had no
idea. Her interest soon waned — rather, it found new outlets, some
of them equally bizarre — but it sure led us to some interesting
experiences.

I should probably add that I had no theoretical objection to any
of this. I was as fascinated by some types of sexual
experimentation as Alex was. I drew the line at anything involving
shit, however. Happily, she agreed with me. But some of our water
games during that few weeks had very erotic overtones.

Perhaps some of this started because Alex and I enjoyed sharing
a hot shower. Hot water, steam, soap, shampoo, and two slippery
bodies in a relatively confined space can be a very big turn-on, as
we had discovered at an early age. Occasionally, the sight of
running water would have its effect on me when I closed the shower
door, and instead of getting out again, wet, to use the toilet, I
would simply piss down the shower drain. Alex began to do the same
thing, squatting over the drain. Then she learned to do it standing
up — bending her knees, jutting out her crotch, and holding her
labia open while raising her aim by pushing upward at the base of
her clit.

On another evening, she came into the bathroom in her tee shirt
and panties while I was on the toilet preparing to take a shit. She
quickly dropped her pants, pushed my knees apart, and sat on my lap
facing me, a leg on each side. Then she leaned backward, pulled me
forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and stuck her long tongue
in my mouth while her urine hissed between my thighs into the bowl
below. She had decided it wasn’t the act of urination she found
sexy, but performing in front of someone else. It was crude, and
that was erotic.

Boys and men are used to lining up at urinals in public rest
rooms and exposing their genitals, even though social custom
prohibits eye contact, much less staring. But women’s rest rooms
come equipped with private stalls. The same is generally true of
most school locker rooms and showers. I had even witnessed a
jerk-off “duel” between two well-endowed jocks. On Alex’s report,
the girls in the school locker room were usually pretty modest —
or nervous, or embarrassed — about their bodies. They didn’t often
stroll around naked . . . with a few outstanding exceptions who
flaunted their assets (puns intended).

From the beginning of puberty, Alex was unusually casual about
nudity, at least in my presence. She knew I found her extremely
desirable — I made no secret of it — and she never even
considered the possibility that she could be raped by her brother.
In that she was fortunate, because I never considered it either. I
could and would seduce her, but I could never force her beyond her
current limit. Physically, I probably could have — but
psychologically, it was never a possibility.

When it came to water sports, . . . well, I doubt I would ever
have suggested it myself, but as it turned out, I was willing to
play along. The fact that she seduced me in this case made the
experience more erotic for both of us. And she knew what she
wanted.

About a week after the encounter at the toilet, she came in hot
and sweaty from jogging. I had spent the afternoon laboring over a
term paper. I was drinking glass after glass of iced tea, and my
bladder was filling up rapidly, but I kept putting off a needed
break to go to the bathroom. The thoughts and the words were
flowing, I was on a creative roll, and I didn’t want to break my
train of thought for even the two or three minutes a bathroom break
would require. Alex puffed into the room just as I finished a page
and paused to drain another glass of tea.

My sister has always had a special talent for sizing up a
person, a problem, or a situation almost instantly. She knew where
I was headed the moment I finally stood up from the typewriter. I
turned toward the door but Alex, shoes and socks already off, was
on me in an instant — literally. She clasped her fingers behind my
head and kissed me, hard. I tasted the salt sweat on her lips and
I felt her soaked running shirt pressing her sweat through my own
tee shirt. She stuck her tongue in my ear — always a guaranteed
turn-on for me — and whispered “No, don’t go to the bathroom! I
need a shower, and I need you full of piss!”

She quickly unsnapped my cutoffs and pushed them to the floor
before I registered what she was saying. She gripped my still limp
cock like a pump handle and squeezed it hard enough to make me
aware of it. I trusted my sister not to injure me, but I had no
real idea what was happening. With her other hand she almost
frantically pushed her running shorts and panties to the floor,
stepped out of them, and then moved even closer to me. My cock was
beginning to throb again as she stood on tiptoe and thrust it
between her thighs — not into her cunt, but across it, clasped
between her steaming thighs so that the tip of my penis poked out
behind, below her ass. Her thigh muscles flexed and the sensation
turned my cock into a pulsating, quivering column of lust. She put
her arms around my waist, pressing her groin more tightly against
mine, and leaned back a little so she could look directly into my
eyes.

She was aroused, as well, and her voice came out husky and
demanding. “Come with me, you goddam, beautiful, sister-fucker! I
want you! Now!”

She stepped up on the tops of my feet and tried to grip the
front of my ankles with her toes, like thong sandals. I reached
down over her hips and her extra elevation allowed me to grip her
ass cheeks in both hands without bending over. I could barely reach
the tip of my penis with one hand, behind her, but I took hold of
the glans and pulled it up more snugly against her hot, damp cunt.
Then we carefully made out way out the bedroom door and down the
hall the few yards to the bathroom in that peculiar but exciting
position, both of us naked below waist, clamped together by her
thigh grip on my penis. When we arrived, we pulled off each other’s
shirts and Alex ripped off her sports bra. She opened her thighs
then, but immediately grasped my cock tightly in her strong,
slender hand and tugged me toward the shower, eyes dilated with
open lust. Being led around by your cock by a beautiful, sexually
aroused teenage girl is one of those experiences that burns into
your memory for life.

But there was another internal pressure competing with my
gonads. I had drunk a lot of iced tea and when Alex turned on the
shower it reminded me immediately that I really had to take a piss.
I was beginning to develop a cramp in my groin, but when I
protested to Alex she said “Not yet!” and squeezed a little harder,
drawing me closer and rubbing the tip of my cock against her flat
stomach. In a few seconds, when the water had gotten hot and the
steam was raising new sweat on both of us, she angled the shower
head away and knelt in front of me. She sat back on her heels,
spread her thighs, and arched her back — her most provocative pose
and she knew I loved it.

“Michael, I want you to pee on me. Piss all over me, head to
foot! I want to feel it running down my tits, I want you to splash
it on my back and my ass! Go slow, don’t just squirt it all at
once. I’m getting even hornier just talking about it!”

I had read enough by know to suspect that water sports were a
kind of erotic punishment game, like bondage. Well, this wasn’t
going to hurt anyone and if Alex was going through a weird stage —
weird even for us — I could accommodate her. “Better close your
eyes,” I suggested.

She squeezed her eyes shut, closed her lips tightly, and tilted
her head far back. I let go with a bright yellow stream that hit
the center of her breast bone; it splashed all over her torso,
running down her breasts and trickling off her rigid nipples. She
gasped at the first shock and then began rubbing the warm liquid
over her body, under her arms, down her thighs. I controlled the
stream as best I could, to make the experience last as long as
possible. She inhaled the acrid aroma and whimpered huskily in her
throat. She was obviously enjoying this. God help me, I was
enjoying it, too — and what did that say about my own
psychological state?

I circled slowly around her, holding my penis squeezed shut to
regulate the flow. I drew a piss line down her spine, neck to ass,
and she shivered as it flowed down between her cheeks. “In my hair,
. . . my face . . . ,” she murmured. My bladder was finally running
low, so — still playing the punishment game — I took two fistfuls
of her wet, tangled hair and tugged her head further back. Not
enough to hurt her, of course, but enough to create the illusion of
threat and control. Her throaty whimper had a strong sensual edge
and she didn’t resist. As the last of my urine flowed through her
dark red hair she shampooed it in, piling her hair up and wrapping
it around my cock. A Freudian image if I ever saw one. The golden
liquid ran in a sheet across her forehead and trickled off her
tightly shut eyelids and the end of her nose and the tip of her
chin.

When my supply ran out and I stepped back, she stood shakily,
still rubbing my body fluids into her smooth skin. She picked up a
washcloth and wiped only the area around her eyes and nose; from
her lips down, she still glistened aromatically. She pressed her
body close to mine and rubbed herself against me. She pulled my
mouth down and fastened hers to it in a long, slow lip-sucking
kiss. The smell of my own fresh urine filled my nostrils; it was
surprisingly erotic, at least under these circumstances. I found
myself being pushed firmly to my knees and I slid my hands down her
back, over the swell of her ass, and down the backs of her thighs.
When my head reached the level of her waist, she suddenly moved her
hands to her pussy and spread and lifted its lips — and before I
realized what she intended, a strong stream of her warm, fragrant
piss splashed against my chest, ran down my body, and dribbled off
my cock and my balls.

I sat back on my heels and looked up at my sister’s grinning
face . . . and began to laugh. We loved each other more than
anything else in the world, and here we were, urinating on each
other. Erotic it might be, but it was also pretty silly. Alex began
to laugh, too, and quickly ended on the floor of the shower,
engulfed in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. The more we thought
about what we were doing, the funnier it became, and the more we
howled. It took us a few minutes to run down, and then we were both
under the hot shower, soaping and shampooing each other — but a
glance at each other’s faces and we were again whooping helplessly
with laughter.

Soaping each other’s bodies in the shower always made us feel
close, physically and mentally, even when neither of us was really
in need of a fuck. Many times, we simply held each other, took
turns massaging shoulder and neck muscles, and cuddled. And that’s
how it turned out this afternoon. Neither of us was embarrassed by
our earlier activities. Amused, yes, but we had long ago accepted
each other in all things. So we kissed affectionately, and Alex
nuzzled my throat with her nose, and I nibbled her earlobe.

Finally, I was leaning against the title, my sister’s arms
linked loosely around my waist, her head leaning on my collarbone.
She sighed contentedly as I untangled her wet hair by combing my
fingers through it. My cock was almost completely limp — that’s
how relaxed and happy and unhurried I felt. She looked up at me
with a glowing smile. “You put with a lot from me, don’t you?”

I looked back into her green eyes and thought about how lucky I
was. I combed her hair back behind her ears. “Sometimes . . .” I
hugged her again. “And I intend to continue putting up with you for
many, many years. I wouldn’t be worth a bucket of piss without you,
Alex. . . .” I had to work hard to keep my voice level as I said
it. Alex instantly cracked up with laughter and slapped the flat of
her hand not too gently against my chest. Then she reached up and
kissed me again, still laughing behind her lips.

“Michael — I love you so much! What would I have done if I were
an only c***d? Life would be so lonely and boring, . . .
especially in the shower!” she added.