Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
My Special Heat:>Ep11

In one violent motion, I shoved my head between my sister's legs. Nose, mouth, tongue all pressed into her pussy. Betsy was dripping wet. Her scent heady. Her flesh soft and pliant. It didn't seem fair to compare my sister's vagina to another girl's. It's not like she could control it; this wasn't something that she'd achieved. And yet her sex was so amazing next to any I'd ever experienced, I almost felt bad for my exes.

I matched my sister's earlier enthusiasm with my own actions. I licked at her with abandon, hoping that if I moved fast enough, she would forget about her misgivings. Sure enough, I felt Betsy's legs go from stiff with stress to tight with desire, wrapping like a python around my head. Heard the low groans she let out as she felt someone lick her most intimate place for the first time.

Brothers aren't supposed to see their sisters' pussies. They certainly aren't allowed to know what they taste like. And feeling what happens when your sister cums, well that's definitely out. But I didn't care. I worked Betsy to her peak like I would die if I didn't.

Betsy's legs snapped so tight I saw stars. She arched her back, letting out a high-pitched squeal. The kind of sound that would set the neighborhood dogs on high alert. It sounded almost pained, like the pleasure was being wrung out of her. Squeezed out of every cell.

Finally, my sister fell back into the bed. Gasping.

I managed to extricate myself from her legs, untangling them like picking myself out of the wreckage. Betsy lay back on the bed. Her face was cherry red. Her eyes unfocused. She looked at me and started to laugh. "You're dripping," she said.

I felt around my face. It was sticky, like I'd buried my whole head in a pot of honey, Winnie-the-Pooh-style.

"I liked it," I said.

"Me too," Betsy said, oddly wistful.

She sat up, looking at some spot behind me. Finally, her golden caramel eyes seemed to center. She sat up and pulled her pants back on. Wrapped her arms around me tight. "Thanks, Bran," she said, "You didn't have to do that for me."

"I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed what you're doing for me," I said, "How wonderful you make me feel. Not just the orgasms."

"Well now I know for sure," Betsy said, "That was incredible. Like nothing I've ever experienced. I don't exactly feel warmer than before, but I'm less cold. If that makes sense."

I nodded. I held my sister close as I could. She kissed me, her mouth smelling of my spend. My own still dripping with hers.

"I should probably go," she said as she slipped out of my arms. "While I can."

I nodded. Feeling my sister cum around me had been almost as intense as my own peak. Sleep overtook me so fast, I don't even remember Betsy closing the door behind her.

*

I assumed that we'd reached equilibrium. That this was as far as we would go. There was no place left to escalate, so I figured we'd stay there at the top till it was time for me to move out and for us to move on.

As if to reinforce all that, the next few days passed and little changed. Our new routine slowly solidified. Betsy would sneak into my bed after hours and suck me off. I would lick her to completion. We'd kiss, snuggle, and call it a night. Betsy continued to prove that she was queen of the cocksuckers. And as I learned my sister's body, I showed that own my cunnilingual skills could conquer her just as easily.

My sister had finally found a way to warm herself up. And she seemed more than willing to allow me to return the favor afterwards. But what I'd thought of as hard, craggy stone was actually made of gelatin. And the supposedly solid structure of our relationship was for more pliant than I'd pictured.

Game 7 of the NBA Finals was on a Friday night, and we settled down to watch. I made a bowl of popcorn and Betsy snuggled in by my side.

"Are you sure you don't want to go upstairs?" I asked.

"No, that can wait till later," Betsy said, "I'm invested in my orange team."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that wasn't what they were called. I honestly didn't care who won, I was mostly watching because I liked basketball. But since Betsy had adopted 'the oranges' I guessed that meant I had to root for the 'the greens' since that's how human nature works. If you choose "A" I must take "B." And we wonder why we all can't get along.

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The game was close. At the half, my verdant fellows were leading by a mere two points over Betsy's mandarin men. I got up to use the bathroom and got us a couple sodas. My parents, who'd barely been speaking since the so-called 'cookie- gate' both waved goodnight and went upstairs. I flicked off the light before sitting back down for the second half.

"This is nice," Betsy said, and I agreed with her. With other girlfriends, I'd be thinking about how to get in their pants right now. Or so worried about what they were thinking in the moment that I couldn't focus. I'd be in my own head, in other words.

With Betsy, this felt easy. Natural. I didn't worry about what was to come, I just enjoyed what we had together.

All this time, I'd been thinking that I wanted a relationship that was about more than sex. I hadn't realized that my own attitudes and assumptions were part of the problem. Now that I felt what it was like, to have a closeness that went beyond the carnal, I realized it was even better than I'd imagined.

Then my sister took off her shirt.

Well, that's not exactly what happened. As the third quarter began, my green guys (my sister had me thinking that way and now I couldn't stop) made the first basket. Betsy watched it happen and made a little 'hmph' noise.

She reached for the bottom of her hoodie and pulled it off. She shook her long, plaited braid back and forth as she tossed her grey top to the side. It wasn't that revealing. My little sister had on a long sleeve shirt under that, and she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. I assumed she was getting more comfortable.

Her oranges replied with a basket of their own. Betsy looked at me and gestured with her hands. What she wanted was abundantly clear. I paused for a moment, then shrugged. Was I really going to argue about this?

I reached for my own top and took it off. Unlike my sister, I wasn't layered at all, so it left me bare-chested. Betsy gave me a satisfied-looking smile.