“I am,” she said emphatically, though not quite ready to prove it. “But yes, it does sort of feel like that, doesn’t it? Maybe you should get under the sheet with me, then it really will.”
“Are you serious?” I said standing up. Xavier allowed the sheet to fall away from her breasts.
“Serious enough for you?” She said as I stood there staring at her exposed breasts. Almost immediately I began stripping off my clothing, Xavier tossing the sheet up over the top of her head as I did so.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to look…not until you’re under the sheet,” she said giggling, honestly sounding a bit like a little girl again. “So hurry up…it’s getting hot in here!”
“Getting damn fucking hot out here too,” I said finally naked, and then slipped into bed beside my stepsister beneath the sheets. “Now what?”
“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” she said once again. “After all, the fact remains, you’ve already seen mine anyway.”
“Yeah, but not like this,” I told her. My hand had already moved over towards her, locating hers, which in fact was, and had been playing with her pussy. She continued to do so for a moment longer, letting my hand rest atop her piggyback as she continued stroking herself.
“Told you I was,” she said only then slipping her hand out of her wet succulent pussy, letting mine slip inside her briefly in order to discover just how wet she truly was. A second after that, she forced my hand away, once again slipping beneath the sheet entirely. “Stay where you are…” she then said. “And no peeking.”
“No peeking?”
“No peeking!” I had to laugh at that, as silly as this all was, it was damn fucking exciting too. Especially when I felt Xavier’s hand suddenly wrap itself around my hard stiff shaft. I quit laughing after that, because the only thing I could do was moan.
I had very limited sexual experience, admittedly. But I had had a few hand jobs, and even a blowjob or two, though I was still yet a virgin, hard as that might be to believe. Not that I hadn’t tried, I had. But so far, either the circumstances, or the girl I was seeing at the time, thought it was too early in the relationship for anything like that. Which they were right about of course more often than not. But so it was, that I was…still.
But as I sat there in bed next to my sister, I began to feel sensations I hadn’t thought possible of ever feeling, let alone know that I even could feel them. If they gave out gold stars for giving hand jobs, then Xavier would have got the biggest, goldest one I could have ever found. She didn’t just sit there and stroke it up and down like I’d experienced before with anyone else. She explored me. She explored, she touched, and she played with me in ways that I wouldn’t confess doing, even to myself.
Xavier tickled me, playfully. She stroked me, erotically. She fondled me, sensually. And then changed it all up, and did it again, even tossing in one or two things I’d never even thought of doing myself.
Up until now at least, a hand job was a hand job. A quick, easy, and painless way to get a guy off, help him blow his nut as a thank you for a nice dinner or a movie, or maybe even an expensive piece of jewelry or something, especially early on in a relationship. But this…the way Xavier played with me with her hands and fingers warranted induction into the Hall of Fame if they even had one for sensual eroticism. If they’d had one for that, she’d have won it hands down, pun intended. But barring any of that, she certainly merited a nomination for a Nobel Prize if nothing else.
Never once in all the years of jerking myself off, or anyone else for that matter, had I been as light headed as I was now, nor as delirious with pleasure, sensitivity, or pure unadulterated bliss, as I was now feeling at this very moment. And all Xavier had done was touch me with her hands and fingers. Nothing else. Not even the briefest or lightest of kisses, or flicks of the tongue on me. She had done all that and more, with the tips of her fingers, or the press of her hand.
“Fuck…Xavier, you’ve…you’ve got to stop for a moment,” I said fighting it with every ounce of my being. “I am way…too…fucking…close!” The head of my cock felt like it was about to explode, the juice already bubbling at the tip, I’d been leaking like a sieve anyway, the throbbing more like a heartbeat inside my cock than within my own chest.
Finally relenting, she re-emerged back beneath the sheet, though once again pulling it up to her neck.
“Ok…you’re in turn,” she said smiling. I was bound and determined to thrill her even more than she had just done to me, even if it took me all night. “Only your hands…ok?” she said, making me promise her.
“OK,” I promised, though more than anything at that moment…I wanted to taste her. But I decided that the risk, especially this soon, was one I wasn’t willing to take. So I would indeed pleasure her as best as I could with my hands and fingers only, and hopefully, bring to her as much joy and as much pleasure and delight as she had just given to me.
Maybe it had something to do with my being under the sheet for some reason. Obviously she couldn’t see what I was doing, though she could certainly feel it. But it seemed to add, to heighten, and to certainly increase our individual sensitivities to it. But I openly played with her, exploring her in many of the same ways she had done to me. Light little fingering caresses, little twiddling touches, a press here, there, a finger just grazing, this…that. I light pinch, a tug, a pull here. Wetness, moisture, slippery, squishy decadent sounds. I was in pure heaven.
The intoxicating aroma of her sweet bloom, the petals of her lips that I held pinched between my fingers like sucking lips, holding gently, firmly, tugging upon each the same. Again probing, and then lightly running dancing fingers upon, and within her, feeling her squirm, listening to the sounds of her breathing, an intake of breath, holding it. More dancing, more tickle-flicks, a quick slip of a finger, a nice easy in and out or two. A hard bead of desire, throbbing like a miniature cock, holding it…pulling it…letting go, only to recapture and then start the whole fucking process all over again. Just like she’d done to me.
“Ok! Stop! Stop!” She pleaded with me, just as I had done. Neither one of us wanted to cum yet, though oh yes…how we actually had wanted to cum. Needed to cum, desired to cum…but wanting even more to wait, until we couldn’t wait…any more.
We both sat, the covers well up to our necks looking at one another, each of us still trying to collect our respective breaths.
I saw a love in my sister’s eyes…my stepsister’s eyes that I had never seen before. And I think she saw the same thing in mine as well.
She began pulling the sheet down and away from herself, once again exposing her delicious looking breasts to me. She continued, the sheet now coming away from me as well until we now lay there side by side, looking at one another openly, appreciatively. We didn’t discuss it, talk about it, question it…nothing.
I lay there watching Xavier, watching as she began touching, fingering and playing with herself. I saw the way her own hands explored, teased, moved within and without. It was a wondrous, marvelous thing she was now sharing with me, as I began likewise sharing with her.
The intimacy we all share with ourselves, can at times be more than merely erotic. It is a vulnerability we don’t often allow very many others to know about, or ever see. How we pleasure, touch, and arouse ourselves is uniquely different from person to person. And it’s not so much in how we do, or even in the way we do it that makes it so intimate, so vulnerable an act. The fact that we’re showing someone else, other than ourselves what it is that actually feels good, is what makes it so.
Seeing Xavier, watching Xavier watching me, was the most spiritual, erotic, sensual moment of my entire life. It had even gotten to the point where we were no longer watching one another doing whatever it was we were doing. We had moved closer together, our heads side-by-side on the pillow, our lips just a breath away from one another.
We kissed for the first time. It wasn’t even a passionate kiss, more sensual, soft, lingering as our lips met, as our tongues first tickled one another briefly before parting again. Eyes open once more, I looked into her eyes as she looked into mine, the release for us both imminent, we were both hovering on the edge now, our breaths no longer our own as we breathed back and forth for one another.
“Don’t close your eyes,” she somehow managed to say. “Keep looking at me…keep looking at me when you cum, as I will, when I cum looking at you,” she said.
I saw it then…don’t ask me how, but I saw it. The stars going off inside her head, the pupils of her eyes as they suddenly dilated, I was seriously and honestly looking into the window of her soul, just as Xavier was looking through the window into my own. I felt the eruption, the sensation of closing my eyes and simply succumbing to it, almost too great a pleasure to endure. But her eyes held mine, as mine continued holding hers.
The delicious spurts of rapturous pleasure bathing us both, the contractions of ecstasy, which surely convulsed deep within her womb, held us both spellbound, the intensity, threatening us each to black out from the pure bliss of it. But somehow we held on, held on watching one another, more intensely intimate, more vulnerable a moment, than either one of us had ever shared with anyone else.
I fell asleep next to Xavier, grateful that our parents no longer came down, or into my room to check in on us. Though the sun gave fair enough warning to me, I slipped out of my sister’s bed, soon after reaching my own, well enough ahead to not raise any suspicions as the new day began. And with it, an entirely different perspective on how I felt about what had now happened between us, and where it might possibly very well go, from there.
To be continued…