Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
My Special Heat:>Ep4

After dinner, I knew going to bed early was a bad idea. Betsy wasn't coming. Despite three days of disturbed sleep, I could tell I was in for another evening of staring at the ceiling. So, after my evening shower, I went back down to the living room and turned on the NBA Finals. I had to hope this series went seven, or else I was going to be in real trouble in a few days.

I got on the couch, wearing my pj bottoms and an old t-shirt. For some reason I can't explain, I grabbed the fleece blanket from behind the couch and put it on my lap. It's not like I was cold.

I was starting to get into the game when I saw Betsy bound down the stairs. She was in another heavy outfit -- this time a big, brown fluffy sweater and sweatpants. She glanced my way and I got myself ready, knowing that things were about to get super awkward.

Instead, my sister hurried over to the couch and slipped in next to me. "You're all set up for me," she said, a tinge of awe in her voice. She pulled the blanket over herself and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

Our mom came out of the kitchen holding a stack of small, round cookies. She saw us sitting on the couch and stopped. "How cute," she said, "Sibling snuggle time."

"Brandon is so warm, Mom," Betsy said.

"Is he now?" Mom asked. She gave me a little knowing smile.

"It really is the best," Betsy said.

I stared at the game, pretending like the two of them weren't talking about me. Something about all of this made me feel on display and it was upsetting.

"Well don't stay up too late, OK?" Mom said, walking up the stairs to her bedroom.

"We're both adults, Mom," Betsy said, "I think we can figure it out."

Mom shook her head at both of us, but she kept going. Once she was out of earshot, Betsy poked me in the ribs.

"See, I told you she doesn't care," Betsy said.

"Seeing us on the couch in front of the TV and replaceing us in bed at 2am are two very different things, Bets."

Betsy made a little moue, but she didn't have an answer for that. Instead, she stared at the TV in silence. However she felt about the night before, she didn't show it. She stayed hooked on to me. Her level of comfort with the whole thing made me strangely uncomfortable.

"Oh, the orange team lost all of its orange-y-ness," Betsy said.

"They're called away jerseys," I said.

"Whatever," Betsy said. She rested her head against my chest. Her brown hair was back in its usual braid.

I tried to leave things as they were. Clearly my sister was fine with everything, but I found I couldn't be. Finally, I gave up and said it.

"Betsy, about last night. I'm sorry."

"About what?" Betsy asked, turning to look at me. Her cute face was crinkled with concern, only making her look more adorable.

"The, um, the kiss," I said, "It was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. I'm really sorry. All the time we've been spending together lately, I'm enjoying it. If I did something to mess that up, I don't think I could forgive myself." "Personally, I liked it," Betsy said.

"You liked it," I said, "The kiss."

"Yes," Betsy said, brightly. "Didn't you?"

I paused. Well, I knew what I was supposed to say. That she was my sister and so it was icky and gross. Except that would be a colossal lie.

"It was nice," I said, underselling it by a mile. But I couldn't come out with the complete truth: that a quick peck with my sister had been the best kiss I'd ever had in my life. The fact that it was honest didn't make it any easier to admit. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

"You want to do it again?" Betsy asked.

She turned her head up to me. Put her hand on my cheek and leaned in. Betsy didn't wait for me to answer, she just pressed her lips to mine.

Betsy didn't give me a little peck on the lips. It wasn't a quick touch. She straight up kissed me, hard. I felt her teeth press through our lips. She teased her tongue against my mouth.

Instinctually, I opened so she could slip her tongue inside. The room filled with wet, smacking sounds. Little mmms and aahhs. Betsy kept her hand on my face, lovingly caressing my cheek while we made out. I squeezed her close against me, like trying to pull her body into my own.

"So warm," Betsy said, as we kissed on the couch. Not like siblings at all. Like lovers. "But then, you make me go away and you keep the warmth with you."

"We can snuggle in bed," I said, "For a little bit."

"And kiss some more?" Betsy asked.

"Yes," I said.

I turned off the TV and we both hurried back to my bedroom. I climbed under the covers and Betsy followed me. As soon as we laid down, her lips reached for mine like she'd been holding her breath the whole time. Betsy grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head. Again, I usually slept that way. I'd always been topless when my sister was with me before. But something about her stripping me seemed so sexual in the moment.

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"This is so wrong," I said, unable to stop myself.

Betsy drew back, a look of confusion etched on her adorable face. "Why?"

"We're siblings," I said, as if I was making some shocking pronouncement. "We're not supposed to do this stuff."

"Oh," Betsy said. She paused to think about it for a moment. "I guess, for me, it's not like that. So, it doesn't bother me."

Now I was the one looking befuddled back at my sister.

"It's the same as the cuddling," Betsy said, "It's not romantic. You're right, that would be wrong if we were doing it that way. It's more functional for me. Kissing you makes me feel warm. Warmer than when we hug. So, you're helping me out. That's all."

"Oh," I said, unsure if I was supposed to feel mollified or hurt. "OK."

"So, we can keep kissing?" Betsy asked.

That was all I needed to hear, I realized. How could I be upset if I got to keep doing this, whatever it was, with my little sister? Rather than answer her question, I simply leaned in, and we reconnected.

"You're warm now?" I asked, after a few minutes of sliding our lips and tongues together.

"Definitely," Betsy said, "This is all I want. I'm tired of being cold all the time."