It started with a kiss

Hello!! All ISS fans. As it seems that I have endless stories for you are you enjoying them or not??? There is another fucking and sucking story for u. As you all are aware of me that I am Abhishek, 18 male living in east Delhi. The story is not real. It does not match to any living being present on earth. It is made by me only for your enjoyment .if anybody having any questions, comments or anything to say about the story can freely mail me on [email protected] or [email protected] enjoy it dudes and babes. The story starts from here… Frank Cassidy was one of those guys at school that you envied, yet couldn’t help like. Everyone liked him, the girls loved him because he never tried anything on the first, third or even tenth date – unless they were ready – and the guys did because he seemed to be able to drift from social group to social group with the grace of an Olympic ice skater. His life was perfect, or so he thought, until today when he did something that could have the potential to bring his entire life crashing and burning around him.

As the echo of the school bell left all the students’ ears, the familiar murmur of voices drifted down the locker hallway, with a continual and almost musical ‘whap’ of the locker doors as the students slammed them shut. It was the final year of school and Frank found it fitting that Julie Bowman’s locker was below his, and that she was greeted to the close-up of his crotch between each class and after school. Julie was a stuck-up snob and almost the only person that attended Grammacy High that disliked him, even borderline hated him. And he didn’t know why. He’d asked her, but each time she just upped her nose at him and walked away, leaving him perplexed. Grinning, he pressed his crotch into the back of her head while pretending to reach into the back of his locker for something. There was no way she could mistake what it was. Yelping in surprise, she whipped her head sideways and looked up at him angrily. She was a cute girl, shapely figure, but at no time while in her tenure at Grammacy had she ever dated the opposite sex. The rumor was that she was a lesbian, but even Frank disliked gossip of that nature and never partook in it. Julie didn’t make it easy for anyone to like her, Frank included, yet he didn’t dislike her enough to spread unsubstantiated rumors of that caliber.

“You filthy bastard,” she hissed.

“What? I didn’t do anything Julie.”

Slamming shut her locker door with slightly more effort than necessary, she rose from her kneeling position and looked him right in the eyes.

“You know exactly what you did and I have the right mind to go and tell Mr. Salsbury.”

“Julie,” he said, raising his voice so others could hear, “I can’t help it if you like getting down on your knees in front of my crotch every day. I mean hey, I’m flattered, sometimes it just gives me the wrong impression, that’s all. Honest mistake.”

There was a hush in the hallway and Julie realized that everyone was looking at them. Her eyes opened wide with embarrassment, cast a nervous glance around and with the finality of a spoilt brat she yelled at him a singular, ever so unique comeback, “bastard!” And then stalked off. When she was gone the guys laughed and patted him on the back, he even saw that most of the girls were sporting grins that they were trying to hold back or cover with their hands. No one at Grammacy liked Julie. Pete Marshall, his closest pal, smiled, shook his head and shut his locker door.

“You have a cruel streak in you, Frank,” he said.

“Hey man, she asks for it. She needs to thaw out a bit and lighten up. Besides, she’s never liked me and I don’t know why.”

Frank shut his locker door and shouldered his knapsack. The people in the hallway had mostly gone on their merry way and Frank cast a furtive glance at his friend.

“Why doesn’t she, Pete?”

“You know, the great Frank Cassidy is not a saint, there’ll be people who will come into your life and dislike you…it just so happens that around this place there’s only one.”

Frank laughed. “You know Pete, for somebody who talks a lot you don’t particularly have much to say. Why doesn’t she like me, a straight answer would be great?”

Pete Marshall sighed. Placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder, he looked him in the eye sporting a slight grimace and told him. “She’s in love with you man.”

Pete picked up his bag and hooked it over his right shoulder, leaving his friend to digest this morsel of information as he turned away and started down the hall.

Frank looked at his hands, no way, there’s no way she was in love with him. Was she?

“What the fuck do you mean she’s in love with me?” He shouted down the now deserted hall to his friend’s back.

Pete couldn’t hold it in, he started to laugh and it echoed down the hall into Frank’s ears. Frank shook his head and laughed softly, Pete the bastard, he nearly had him. He turned away from his locker and walked the opposite way down the hall.

“Au revoir asshole,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“See you later, dip shit,” was Pete’s response.

Frank’s house was a couple of miles from school and he walked it every day, a sort of sure-fire way of keeping fit. He always walked it alone too, he made it clear to everyone that this was his time, his alone time. He didn’t get much of that since he was so popular. It wasn’t conceited of him to think that way, it was true, and it would be false modesty if he were to say that he wasn’t well-liked by most. Other than the periodical massaging of his crotch into the back of Julie Bowman’s head, he was single and hadn’t had a girlfriend in three months. The last girl he had dated, Kathy Williams, had left an emotional crater in him, he’d loved her, but she’d had serious trouble trusting him. She’d thought that at any moment of the day he would leave her, find someone else and dump her right away. After a while he couldn’t take it, she was just so worried and jealous whenever she saw him talk to another girl, or even cast his eyes over one. It broke his heart when he had to break up with her, but he knew that it was the best for both of them. He sighed, yeah, it was best for both of them. But it still hurt.

Attracting the ladies wasn’t a problem for Frank Cassidy. He was blessed with his father’s sandy-brown hair, his mother’s good looks and his great-grandfather’s natural sporting prowess, which managed to keep his body athletic and in good shape. When he arrived home from school he didn’t bother about slipping his house key out of his jeans, he knew that Monica would be home; she had a spare last period and always came home early. Monica was his younger sister and they were in the same year level at school. No matter how often he thought about it, it was hard to believe that she was roughly nine months younger than him. His father must’ve been on top of his mother only seconds after he’d been squirted out to pull that off. He walked through the unlocked door and was glad that his parents weren’t going to be home for another hour or so. On his way to his room he realized he hadn’t seen Monica in the kitchen; she’s usually in there with a glass of milk in one hand and a cookie in the other, ready to chat to him about her day or generally shoot the bull. Shrugging, he walked past his sister’s closed door and dumped his bag in his room, then changed out of his uniform. Most of the students at Grammacy hated wearing the uniform, but Frank loved it. Well, not wearing it, but the fact that all the girls had to. A lot of the girls looked really cute in the uniform, especially the ones with nicely shaped breasts, because the fabric of the shirt clung alluring to them. Whoever invented the uniform had to be a pervert, had to be. Frank grinned, he was reaping all the benefits. While grabbing a couple of biscuits out of the cupboard in the kitchen he cocked his head for any sounds in the house at all, he could vaguely hear something, but didn’t know what.

“Mon?” He shouted. “You home, Mon?”

He walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, recalling her closed door. Rapping his knuckles on the wood, he asked again softly, “Monica, you in there sis?”

He heard some sniffling and the sound of someone blowing their nose behind the door. Shit, he thought. If that punk Robert Gault had done anything to her he was going to break his face open.

“No, its okay, I’m fine,” she said.

“You sure don’t sound fine Monica, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, please just go away.”

He placed the palm of his hand on the door, feeling the grain of it. He loved his sister, she was the most important person in his life and he was extremely protective of her. Lately he’d…no, he wasn’t going to think about that. He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. She didn’t protest when it squeaked, so he pushed it all the way open and entered. He was a bit of a romantic at heart, there was something about the damsel in distress that made him want to be the shoulder to lean on. Inside, his sister was sitting on the edge of her bed crying, her eyes red and puffy and a box of tissues lying next to her. Her waste paper basket was at her feet, wads of tissues piling up inside, and her hand was shaking as she lifted another tissue to wipe at her nose. She was still in her uniform and he felt a stir in his pants when he saw that she was still in her shirt, sans jumper. After all, he was only human and his sister had a very shapely chest. He sat down next to her and grabbed a tissue out of the box, bringing it up to her face and wiping gently at the tears as they tracked their way down her cheeks. He slid an arm around her waist as he dabbed at her eyes. They’d always been close as brother and sister, yet at the moment it felt that not only did she need him, but he also needed her. Close contact with a girl, he realized, had been something he’d missed an awful lot since his break-up with Kathy. It didn’t seem to matter that the contact was with his sister, she was a beautiful young girl and it felt good to be touching her.

It had been an ongoing problem for him as they had both grown up, he’d watched as she turned into a sweet-looking teenager, then an even more stunning young woman. Monica had the most beautiful green eyes that he’d ever seen, he found quite often that he would stare into them for just a second too long and he would then worry that she would know what he was thinking, or worse, what he was feeling. She was never one to be upset by something small, something big must’ve happened. His heart melted as he watched her being wracked by small sobs so he did the best he could, he just sat there and held her. With one long last sniff and blow of a tissue she turned to him and tried to smile. He moved a hand above her brow and swept back some of the hair that had fallen over her face, tucking it back behind her ears tenderly with his index finger. She had lovely honey-blond hair that came to her shoulders, which was currently tucked into a ponytail, some strands had obviously escaped. Now that she had more of a grip it was time for him to relinquish the arm around her waist he didn’t want to but he knew that he had to.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked softly.

A few moments passed and he thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she did.

“You’ll think I’m just a little kid Franky, I feel like I’m a little kid, it’s just so stupid.”

Franky was the nickname that his sister had given him since she was little, she only used it at home and no one else other than family knew about it. It’d always sounded cute coming out of her mouth so he’d let it slide. He liked it these days, because, well, he liked everything about his sister, perhaps a little too much.

“No I won’t. It’s okay if you tell me,” he paused for a moment and then gazed into her wet eyes. “Is it about Robert?”

She looked away, yup, there it is. Robert was the guy she was dating at the moment. He was a real dickhead and it didn’t surprise Frank that he’d hurt Monica in some way. The problem was Robert was her first real boyfriend, which always struck him as strange since she was so beautiful. He didn’t think that any guy had ever asked her out before Robert had. Perhaps anyone that ever liked her just assumed that she would say no, and she was always too timid to ask out somebody she liked.

“He…he…dumped me. He said that…that he didn’t want to go out with a girl that takes it slow…wh….who’s a frigid bitch,” she sobbed. She put her face in her hands and started to cry again. Frank was going to fuck him up big time, that guy wasn’t going to have any limbs left when he was done. How could you say that to a girl? He shook his head, amazed that such an asshole could be created. As he slipped his arm around her again she sagged against his body, laying her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and tears were streaming down her lovely face again, running off the edge of her cheeks and falling onto his t-shirt. With his other hand he rubbed at her right arm, softly caressing the smooth, warm skin. It seemed to be making her feel better and it was certainly having an impact on him, too. He couldn’t believe at a time like this, with his sister crying, that he could be getting a hard on. His dick was being totally inconsiderate.

“How on earth would that make me think you’re a kid?” He asked, looking down at her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her hair was tickling his neck and the warmth of her body just felt so great. Damn it, he shouted at himself, pull it together man.

“Be…because I wouldn’t kiss him,” she said demurely. “I’ve never kissed a guy before and I was afraid I’d do it wrong. When I told him, he laughed and said I was just a dumb blond.”

He pushed all of his hatred for Robert down into his gut, far away from where she could see it and just looked at her. The image of her sweet face calmed him down instantly, her green eyes so open and expressive, how could he think of hate when he was looking at her?

“Mon, you’re anything but dumb, you’re one of the most intelligent girls I know. And…the first kiss is hard, you’re not a kid just because you’ve never kissed someone, you just have to find the right person.”

She didn’t say anything for a while and they just sat there in silence, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. He knew that what he was thinking was wrong, she was his sister for God’s sake, yet he couldn’t see past the fact that she was so gorgeous. Lately he’d found himself looking at her body more and more, staring at the generous curves of her breasts, how shapely her ass was, her long legs and her lovely face. He should have been disgusted with himself, thinking these sick and perverted things. But knowing wouldn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him. He retracted his arm from around her, mentally slapping himself awake and realizing that he was to get up and remove himself from her room before he did something stupid. Really stupid.

He opened his mouth to tell her everything would be okay, she’d find the right guy sooner or later, when she put her hand on top of his and stroked it tenderly. She slipped her head from his shoulder and stared at him, her eyes were shimmering and her mouth was half-opened as if she was about to say something..

“What?” He asked.

She looked down, her lips were trembling and he sensed that she was about to tell him something very important.

“Do you think, um, do you think that you could maybe show me, um, show me how to kiss?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

It took him a few moments to realize that she was actually asking him to kiss her. Could he? Should he? The real question was: would he be able to stop himself at one kiss? Instead of tip-toeing through the tulips he decided to grab the bull by the horns.

“You want me to kiss you on the mouth, as in, properly kiss you?”

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay,” she said demurely. “I just…don’t know who else to ask. I’m so worried that I’ll do it wrong, but if I do it with you it won’t matter, ‘because you’re a decent guy and won’t make fun if I botch it.”

This was one curve ball he’d never seen coming. It was the secret formula that every baseball pitcher kept for a rainy day, when things were getting truly out of hand. One of his strongest and recurring fantasies was kissing Monica, in fact, it played like a broken record on some days, he would daydream about it over and over and over. Of course, there were many other fantasies about her that weren’t quite as innocent as the one where they make out, and quite often they involved largely, if not exclusively, his cock sliding between the lips of her pussy.

“You’re not disgusted with me, are you?” She asked, her face riddled with worry.

“Mon, god no, I could never, ever be disgusted with you. I’d…be honored to be the first guy to kiss you.”

In what felt like slow motion he cupped her face in his hands and moved his mouth close to hers. It suddenly dawned on him that Monica may harbor similar feelings towards him. They were extremely close, even for siblings, and occasionally he’d wondered if the meaningful looks she gave him weren’t just his horny imagination running rampant. Gently, he brushed his lips against hers, telling himself that it will only be a peck, that’s all. They both closed their eyes as he kept giving her small kisses, her breath was becoming heavier and her hands went up around his neck and dangled down his back. The light fragrance of her perfume was overpowering only a peck and then he slowly eased his tongue into her mouth. She moaned loudly, and as she’d seen in countless romance movies she slid her tongue against his and wetly kissed him back. He removed his hands from her face and slid them around her back, pulling her close to him, never breaking the kiss. The soft push of her breasts against his chest didn’t escape either of them. Their tongues swirled against one another’s, time was lost as they kissed, she ran her hands through his hair and they both sighed into each other’s mouths. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he pulled his mouth away from hers and looked at her. Her leaf-green eyes were fixed unwaveringly on his, they weren’t looking sad and miserable now, they were glowing and so was her entire face. Her lips were shiny and wet, their bodies still firmly stuck together. It would take a small nuclear device to separate his body from hers; he was holding her that tightly. Because of the way they were sitting his raging erection wasn’t rubbing against her. He had never in his life been this hard, he felt like he was going to explode. She was just so gorgeous, and he’d kissed her! He couldn’t believe it had happened, that he was holding his sister and they had just French kissed!

“Wow,” she whispered, her breathing hard and irregular. “Did I do it right?

“You can’t get much more right than that, Monica. That was hot like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh, I believe it. It was everything I imagined and more.”

“Just not with the right guy, huh?” He asked, a lump forming in his throat at the thought of having to relinquish the sensation of her soft, warm body.

“No,” she said, averting her eyes, “it was with the right guy.”

Before he lost his nerve he leaned forward and kissed her again, long and hard, their tongues sliding and sucking as they began to moan and whimper. He slid his hand downwards to massage her neck muscles with a skill that could only be born from experience. Monica was a quick learner and it seemed as if her body melted into his as their tongues began to wrestle with a ferocious intensity. She was panting hard and unashamedly enjoying every moment that they kissed, which surprised Frank because he’d assumed that she would be as self-conscious doing the act as she was in talking about it. They both continued to moan loudly as they shared their exquisitely passionate kiss and, listening to her small sighs of pleasure, he became even bolder so he slid his hand from her throat and down the slope of her right breast. Her eyes flashed open when she realized what he was going to do, he was going to feel her up. She untangled her tongue from his, disentangled herself from his arms and came to her senses.

“Too fast,” she panted, placing her right hand on his chest. “Way too fast.”

He gathered his breath, calmed down and tried to get his heart rate under a hundred. He was so horny that he hadn’t been thinking, just acting. His dick had immediately taken over, luckily the look on her face let him know that she wasn’t angry. They’d both simply gotten carried away with the moment.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay, we just….this is a little strange for me.”

He stood quickly, not thinking about his little problem downstairs. Her face was near his crotch, so she was treated to a front row view of his quite visible erection, and after a moment of blatant staring she slowly raised her eyes to meet his. He felt a blush tint his cheeks and he started to back away from her.

“I think I should be going, I….er….we’ll discuss this a little later when we’ve had time to think it over properly,” he stammered.

She picked herself up from the bed and grabbed his hand at the door, just as he was leaving. She rose to her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his again. Her slick tongue played out against his as they made out in her doorway, both feeding one another’s attraction with unhidden lust.

“We have to stop,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to though, I’m enjoying myself too much,” she shot back, her mouth still lightly kissing him.

“Let me rephrase – I have to stop. If I don’t stop, then I won’t stop, Mon.”

A cute little smile spread across her lips and her eyes momentarily dropped to his bulging crotch. It was as obvious as the nose on his face that he needed to take care of his problem down there; every few seconds his hands gravitated towards his crotch, only to stop them inches from it because of the company he was in.

“Did I cause that?” She asked, her eyes returning to his and her cheeks glowing tomato red.

“Yeah Mon, you did.”

“All I did was kiss you though, is that normal?”

Her frank curiosity about the state of his cock was turning him on even more. It felt so surreal to be standing in the doorway of his sister’s room, talking to her about his erection as if it was common practice. Hopefully, it would become just that.

“I really love kissing, so no, it isn’t uncommon. What about you, didn’t I cause any stirring down there for you?”

“Well…” She bit down on her bottom lip and her cheeks went a darker shade of tomato. “You could kind of say that.”

Thoughts of her pussy being wet sent him crazy and if he stayed in the room a moment longer he’d probably launch at her in a sexual frenzy.

“I’ve really got to go, but we’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, smiling.

Barely containing himself, he literally ran to his room and slammed the door shut. He yanked his pants down and flexed his hand, his cock springing to attention in anticipation.

“You and me pal,” he said.

After he’d cleaned up he sat on his bed thinking about Monica. All his teenage pre-pubescent fantasies about his sister had always troubled him, but he just figured that every teenager had weird fantasies. The thing was – they were always supposed to be just that, a fantasy. You’re not supposed to make out with your sister, no matter how spunky she is. Some things are taboo for that reason, you just don’t fuckin’ do them! Their parents had been home for about an hour and they were preparing dinner. Any minute now his name would be called out to go and set the table, while Monica would help serve their meal. Would it be uncomfortable around her now, would she regret what they did? Did he regret what they did? All he knew was that he’d never felt that way when he’d kissed a girl, he’d completely let himself surrender to his passion, not caring if what they were doing was right or wrong.

“Frank, come set the table, honey,” his mother yelled.

Show time, he thought, as he rose from his bed.

As he entered the dining room his heart skipped a beat, Monica had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a tight pair of cut-off Levis and a singlet that showed off her midriff. In short, she looked gorgeous. He moved into the kitchen where his parents were busy pouring each other a glass of white wine and went to the cutlery drawer. While setting the table Frank watched as his sister dished out the food, eyeing her closely, wondering what she was thinking. Every few seconds she would raise her eyes to his and smile, it was a teasing smile, the kind of smile that he was used to receiving from the opposite sex. His cock jumped in his pants. The smile, her attire and the lingering feeling of her tongue against his was just too much for him to handle. Also, his parents were in the next room, his mother giggling and he heard a slapping noise. Did his father just slap her ass? He looked over at Monica again; there was glint in her eyes, a come-hither sparkle. He couldn’t take it. He flashed Monica an uncertain smile and walked quickly into the kitchen, his parents were standing there necking and his anxiety level jumped into over drive. Fuck! He recalled the feeling of Monica’s body up against his, her warm breath on his mouth, her wet tongue sliding against his… He heard a voice from far off.

“Huh?” He said, looking up.

“Are you alright, Frank?”

It was his father. He suddenly realized he was shaking, thank god he was wearing a pair of jeans or else his erection would be making itself known to all. He knew how he must look – his eyes jumping around, his brow felt damp so he must have been sweating. He was disorientated, confused, what the hell was he going to do?

“Yes,” he said, trying to act normal. “Everything’s fine, Dad.”

“You don’t look fine, honey,” his mother said, moving away from his father and pressing her hand against his forehead.

Frank flinched and he knew that she noticed. He could feel the presence of someone behind him and he knew that it was Monica; she’d probably heard the concern in his father’s voice and come to investigate.

“Are you sure sweetheart? You seem to be running a bit of a temperature?”

Frank lightly gripped his mother’s wrist and removed it from his forehead. “I’m fine mum, I’m just not hungry is all.”

He could feel Monica’s eyes burning a hole in his back. The right thing to do would be to turn around, give her a reassuring smile and eat his dinner. That was the right thing, but on most occasions when we know what the right thing to do is, we rarely have the guts to do it. Instead, he flashed his mother and father the reassuring smile that Monica should have received, turned and started walking from the room, offering no explanation for his behavior and not planning on giving one.

“Honey, Frank, where are you going?” His mother called.

“I’m just going to go to Pete’s,” he yelled over his shoulder.

Like a man on a mission, he walked hurriedly down the long hallway and into the laundry, opened the back door and then stepped out into the night. He knew that his mother and father would be sharing quizzical looks, but then would probably just cast it off as some sort of adolescent thing and not give it much more thought. Monica, on the other hand, would know that something was up. And he felt like a complete shit leaving her to dwell on his erratic behavior, she must be worried sick that he might be disgusted over what had happened between them. Pete was right. He wasn’t a saint, not even close. He was just way too confused right now to sit at the same table as Monica, to sit there and watch her eat, watch her smile a naughty conspiratorial smile at him, flashing him knowing glances and just generally be the girl that he happened to be in love with. He couldn’t do it; he needed more time to think about what he was getting himself into. No, what they were getting themselves into. What he needed was to be someplace that she wasn’t, somewhere he could think objectively about the situation and not have his mind clouded by the thought that she was only meters away from being in his arms, kissing him, where he might move his hand and–

No! He couldn’t think that stuff. He had to remain clear headed.

Pete’s, he would do something normal, go over to his friend’s house as he had done thousands of times before and get his mind together. Monica was his sister for Christ’s sakes and he had to get that into his head. She was his sister, it was wrong to do what they had done; she was the same flesh and blood as him. He sighed inwardly. It sure hadn’t felt wrong though. It had felt fantastic. Frank climbed onto his mountain bike and made his way down the driveway and out onto the road. They lived in the upper class part of town, beautiful houses surrounded him as he made his way down the street, sans bike lights. There was a three quarter moon tonight, the sky cloud free, so the moon beat down a beautiful ambience that caused a soft shadowy figure to follow along, keeping pace with him, never leaving. He loved cycling through the streets at this time of night, everyone in their homes eating dinner, talking about the day’s events, hopefully enjoying and making the most of each and every minute they had. He heard a dog bark off to his left, the streets were bare, the night silent and as he rode past houses he saw the gentle light leaking out from behind curtains. It probably wasn’t a good idea to go to Pete’s in the condition he was in, so instead he rode his bike around town for a couple of hours and bathed in the soft glow of the moon. For a Wednesday night it was relatively quiet, peaceful, and at times it felt as if he was the only person alive as he rode through empty, noiseless streets. Away from Monica’s knowing gaze he was able to calmly assess the situation. On one hand he had his beautiful sister who by all appearances wanted him as much as he wanted her, yet, on the other hand he had the total and utter destruction of his life if they were ever to get caught.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said to himself.

At around 9pm he decided that he had to face Monica and flush out his feelings for her. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure which path he was going to go trekking down – taking things further with her or deciding against any and all sexual involvement. He just didn’t know. When Frank arrived home he immediately noticed his parents’ car missing. With his parents out – and with little doubt Monica would be with them there would be no excuses he could give her to delay their inevitable discussion. Although only minutes beforehand he’d felt ready for their confrontation, his hands were now clammy and he could feel sticky droplets of sweat sliding down the contours of his face. As confident and assured of himself as he usually was with the opposite sex, he was suddenly feeling apprehensive due to the nature of this particular female in question. Frank almost hoped she wasn’t home so that they could extend how long they both had to analyze their predicament. There didn’t appear to be any lights on inside, so he raised his hopes that Monica was also with his parents. He tried the door, it was locked, another good sign. With the stealth of a cat he silently removed his key from his pocket and slipped it slowly into the keyhole. The lock made a little ‘snick’ when the key turned and, while twisting the handle simultaneously, he pushed the door open and quietly entered the house.

The empty silence was suddenly invaded by the sound of a television playing softly at the other end of the house. Damn it, she was home. He just wanted more time to think about the situation, to procrastinate, but he had a feeling that his sister would be catching up with him before the night was out. There was also the other possibility, after analyzing things she may have come to the conclusion that any sexual activity between them was impossible. It was doubtful though, he recalled the kinky smile she’d given him and the glint in her eyes. He shook his head, and let’s not forget the fact that he wanted her badly, so badly that it almost hurt. Making his way to his room in the dark, neglecting the light switches in order to remain in stealth mode, he continued the line of thought. It wasn’t exclusively sex he was after, he was in love with her, and he just hadn’t allowed the feelings to be evident on a truly conscious level until they’d kissed. Frank opened his bedroom door and shut it gently, then he moved over to his wardrobe and stripped out of his clothes and changed into his night attire, which consisted of nothing more than a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt. His curtains were still open so he was able to take advantage of the moonlight that streamed into his room instead of resorting to turning on his light. His stomach was resting in his throat; he was nervous and totally unsure of himself. These were traits that he wasn’t typically used to feeling; Monica had shorted out all of his circuits and thrown his entire life into chaos. Things had been ordered and rational before today, sure he was slightly lonely but his life had been uncomplicated. He could see his hazy reflection in the mirror, the worry in his eyes was evident and he tried to smile at himself. It really looked less like a smile and more like a grimace.

“Show time,” he said, his shadowy reflection following.

Creeping through the house, not entirely sure why he was creeping but doing so nonetheless, he made his way to the lounge room. The sound of the television was vibrating through his eardrums, but it wasn’t even registering. He came to the open archway that connected the lounge room with the kitchen and saw Monica sprawled on the three seater couch. She was propped up against the far right arm, the television off to the left and out of his line of sight, so her body was angled slightly away from him. Truthfully, she probably wouldn’t be able to see him, there was no light coming from behind him and the glow from the television pretty much only illuminated the other side of the room. She took his breath away. Clearly she didn’t think himself or their parents would be home before she went to bed, because all that she was wearing was a pair of white cotton panties and a white Winnie the Pooh t-shirt that was a size too small. It was what she usually changed into when she went to bed, but she never strolled around the house like it. He’d seen her in bathing suits and that had been as sexy as hell, only it was infinitely more erotic to see her sitting there in what she wore to bed, unaware that his eyes were roaming over every square inch of her body. It was the cotton panties that got him. Some guys found lingerie sexy, yet Frank salivated over the simple white cotton panties that lay on display in front of him, half because of the body they were attached to and half because for some reason he found them so damned hot. From his vantage point he could see that they were pulled taught over the lips of her pussy, only the distance he was viewing the spectacle from didn’t accommodate for fine details. Her hair had been untucked from its pony-tail and was splayed out around her shoulders in a golden arc, her breasts were obviously unhindered and they pushed invitingly against the tight, thin fabric of her Winnie the Pooh t-shirt. Her legs were spread slightly, in a lazy and nonchalant fashion.

His cock was instantly hard, with the view that he was privy to, how could it not be? Monica’s eyes weren’t even focused on the television, they were aimed at the floor and she appeared to be deep in thought. Frank knew that right then and there his decision had been made. To hell with the consequences, he didn’t care what people would do if they found out, she was the most important person in his life and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any other girl. Because people were too narrow minded and set into ideals that were archaic, they weren’t allowed to share their love the way they wanted. That was bullshit. Taking a deep breath he moved slowly into the room, making it half way before she was aware of his presence. Her eyes rose to meet his and they went as wide as saucers. A brief, unsure smile flickered across her lips and a cute little frown flashed over her face; even when Monica was angry or unhappy her allure didn’t waver. As he sat down on the middle cushion next to her she sat up straight, tucked her hair back behind her ears and smoothed out her Winnie the Pooh t-shirt, causing his eyes to linger over her breasts as she did so. When he looked up at her face again, even in the poor light, he noticed that a maroon blush was spreading across her cheeks. Amazingly he blushed too; usually he was extremely confident around women yet with Monica all the rules seemed to have changed. He didn’t know how to act, or how she’d respond, which made him feel as if he was an inexperienced kid.

“You ran out of the house awfully fast,” she said cautiously, breaking the silence.

Looking down at her hands in her lap, she spoke again, so softly he could barely hear her. “Are you…are you ashamed of what we did?”

“No,” he replied gently. “No, I could never be ashamed of that.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering and a look of relief washing over her face. She smiled at him then shifted her body, leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, hugging tightly, her chin resting in the crook of his shoulder and her mouth pressed up against his left ear. He was still hard painfully hard and the sensation of her soft breasts pushed tight against his chest caused him to tremble. If any doubt remained in his mind his lust for his sister’s warm body clouded it instantly. He returned her hug with an intensity that equaled her own and he stroked her back gently. The thin cotton t-shirt hugged the contours of her body perfectly, smoothly, as if it was a second skin.

“I was so afraid you were disgusted with what we did,” she whispered, her lips tickling his ear.

Frank’s hands slid up her back and pushed gently at her shoulders, moving her body slightly away from his so that he could look into her eyes. His vision suddenly blurred as he looked at her, she was utterly gorgeous. Her expressive green eyes were searching his and silently pressing for an answer, and he guessed that he owed her one.

“I…I guess I got scared,” he sighed. “And confused, incredibly confused, but no, not disgusted, Mon, nothing about you could ever disgust me.”

She smiled warmly and brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes.

“You don’t think I’m scared?” She asked incredulously “You don’t think I’m confused about us? You’re not the only one Franky, just please promise me that if you get scared or confused again you’ll talk about it with me, okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, taking her into his arms again.

“Just promise.”

“I promise,” he whispered, hugging her fiercely.

With her lips quivering slightly she pressed them against his and started to kiss him passionately, their arms both tightly wrapped around one another, tongues caressing, their warm bodies rubbing together and low murmurs escaping their lips as they made out. As he slid his hands through her hair their kiss became even steamier, more electrified, a new urgency seemed to take hold as they lost themselves in each other’s arms. A moan passed into his mouth and Monica pressed her breasts provocatively against his chest, moving up and down slightly so they rubbed back and forth. Monica started to giggle in his arms while their tongues were still sliding, which somehow made her giggle even more. She pulled her mouth away from his, they were both out of breath from their kiss so each time she giggled it hurt her stomach. He looked at her strangely, her hair was tousled and her eyes were shining with mischief. Her mouth was wet and slack from their kiss, her t-shirt slightly rocked up exposing even more flesh to Frank’s hungry eyes. Getting a hold of himself, he let his arms drift from her back to her sides, where they touched bare flesh.