“Tom?” It was my mom, poking her head around my bedroom door, interrupting my studying. “Tom, ok if we talk for a few minutes?” It was a quiet Saturday at our house and my weekend routine usually involved some of my uni studies.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Glancing over her shoulder to the hall outside my room and quietly closing the door mom walked over to my desk, glanced around, and sat on my bed next to it. “You’ve got a party on Friday night, right?”

“Well, yes and no; it’s actually a mixer, mom. There aren’t many girls in engineering at the university so we’ve invited a bunch of girls from the education faculty to the mixer. So guys can actually meet some girls, you know?”

“Ok, now I understand. You’re going, right?”

“Sure. Not looking for a girlfriend right now, but, yes, I’ll be there.”

“I”m going to ask a big favour, Tom,” as she seemed to draw a breath in,”I want you to take Lucy to the, ummm, mixer.”

“Whaaat? Take my sister to a party? Mom…really?”

“Tom, it’s been six months…” So there it was. Six months. Six months since my sister Lucy’s boyfriend Craig had died in a single-car accident. Going too fast on a curve, the police said. Road slick from a recent rain. Craig’s death plunged us all into a deep sadness, deep grief. Even though he was Lucy’s boyfriend he was welcomed into our family. We all felt his loss deeply but no one, obviously, more than Lucy.

Lucy is in nursing school and the administrators were incredibly understanding. They gave her the two weeks she needed to deal with the immediate shock and then arranged for tutors to bring her up to speed quickly. Lucy has always been a quick study, so she caught up well and the routine of classes and ward work were a very welcome distraction. They helped my sister get back into routine. But she never really got back into life itself. Her nursing school was residential, even though we were in the same town, but she came home weekends. And when she did she seemed a shell of the young woman she’d been six months ago. Her social skills were intact; she participated in family dinners, outings, conversations, but in the six months since the accident I don’t think I’d seen her smile. Not once.

“Mom, if Lucy wanted to go out don’t you think she’d have done that by now? She’s had invitations, right? I know it’ll be a long time before she’s ready for another boyfriend, or male company at all, I suppose, but her classmates have invited her out, to movies, girls’ nights out, right? And she’s turned them all down. What makes you think she’d go to anything with her brother?”

“I don’t know, Tom. You might be right. But I’m really worried that if we don’t do something her grief might become permanent, you know? I’m worried she’ll never recover. Would you at least ask her? Make it a suggestion? She might surprise us.”

I looked down at my text book and notebook and let mom’s request sink in. I wasn’t afraid at all of looking geeky among my friends; they all knew what had happened, all knew the tragedy that has struck our family. Finally I said “Ok, mom. I’ll suggest it to her and see what happens. Maybe when I take her back to the nurses’ residence tomorrow night.”

Mom’s relief was obvious; “thanks, Tom, I really appreciate it. I hope she takes you up on it.” And with that she left my room and I returned to my studies. I relished weekends and actually liked my room for studying. When mom and dad built our home before either Lucy or I were born money was tight so they finished the basement as a self-contained suite. They insulated the ceiling to deaden any sounds from the basement to their space upstairs and vice versa. They even put a passage lock on the door to the suite for privacy. So there were two bedrooms, a small living room, bathroom, and even a washing machine and dryer. The house is built on a slope so that the front door entry is at one ground level and the basement suite opens on another, downhill, so it’s light and airy. It even has its own separate entrance.

To get to the point: our folks never needed to rent it out so once Lucy and I were pre-teens we occupied the two bedrooms downstairs with our parents’ bedroom being two floors above. And it worked a charm. As we grew into our teens our parents were happy to banish us and our friends down to the suite. Virtually no loud TV sounds or music reached their bedroom and barely could be heard on the living floor directly above. It suited all four family members perfectly.

It was fairly routine for me to drive Lucy back to her residence on Sunday evenings, particularly since the accident. Somehow she seemed just a bit more at ease with me than with anyone else. Age, perhaps, or maybe simply because we’d been close all our lives. We had few secrets. I’d dated some of her classmates and Craig had been one of my classmates, so there was almost a cross-pollination effect so that our social circles overlapped, like a social Venn diagram. Anyway, I thought the drive to her residence would be good timing so I broached the subject.

“You know about our mixer next Friday, Luce?”

“I heard mom mention it, sure. Why?”

“Would you like to go? I’m happy to take you.”

“Short answer, no.”

“Ok, yes, that was short. Is there a long answer? You might even enjoy the mixer.”

“What is this, Tom, a pity date?”

I laughed, “it’s not a date, sis. We’d simply be going together. You already know a bunch of my engineering buddies so it wouldn’t be weird or anything.”

“A brother taking his sister to a party…not weird?” Now it was her turn to laugh. That was a relief; I hadn’t heard her laugh in a very long time.

“Would you at least think about it? It’s either that or another exciting Friday Night With The Parents.”

I was surprised when she replied, staring out the windshield, “ok, bro, I’ll think about it, but don’t hold your hopes up, ok?”

“That’s fair. Talk Wednesday?”

“Sure.” And by then we were at her residence. Instead of immediately leaving my truck she waited, deep in thought, continuing to stare out the windshield. Finally she turned, leaned over, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. That was not routine. “Thanks,” she said as she ducked out the door and headed into her residence. I sat and thought for a second, lightly rubbing the spot she’d kissed and realized that maybe she was thanking me for more than the ride.

Wednesday arrived and when I reached her at her residence I was surprised by her reply; “I’ve been thinking about it, Tom, and…well, ok. I still think it’s one of the worst ideas you’ve had for a long time, but as long as you’re there and some of your buddies are there…I’ll go.” Why was I surprised? And even odder, why did my heart give a small leap? That was weird. But I saw a glimmer of hope, just a tiny crack of light in the wall of grief that Lucy had built around herself. When I reported back to mom she was genuinely elated. She almost bounced off the couch when I told her.

“That’s great, Tom, maybe it’ll bring her out of her shell.”

Repeating my sister’s cautionary remark, I said “don’t get your hopes up, mom, I don’t believe in miracles.”

Friday night came and Lucy was already home when I got back from classes. We had a quick family dinner and then Lucy and I headed downstairs for quick showers and to dress for the mixer/party. Always the gentleman, Lucy was given first turn at the shower while I poked around my meagre clothing choices in my room. She was in her room when I headed to the shower and as I left the bathroom wrapped in my towel Lucy stepped out of her room dressed for our “date”. I stopped in my tracks and I suspect my mouth fell open. Without even trying my sister looked great. Dark auburn hair falling to her shoulders complementing her dark brown eyes, framed by the graceful curve of her eyebrows. Did I detect just the slightest touch of makeup? A bit around the eyes? No, I’m not being fair to Lucy; she looked beautiful. I stood staring long enough that a blush rose on her cheeks until I was able to talk, words tripping over each other; “you look…ummm…great, Luce. No, you look really great.” I don’t know if she believed me, but her continued blush suggested that maybe, just maybe she did.

She headed upstairs as I quickly dressed. By the time I joined her both parents were joining in my appraisal until Lucy stopped it with “enough, enough already! I know what you guys are trying to do and it’s not going to work.” But even with that she smiled and the rest of us laughed.

“Not trying to do anything, Luce,” my father chimed in, “Tom’s going to have to beat them off with a stick tonight.” More laughter except from Lucy, who just looked away and fidgeted. I thought if I don’t get a move on she’ll change her mind and stay home, so I took her lightly by the arm and led her to my truck, thinking “this is beginning to feel like a date after all”.

It was almost a half hour drive to the party venue, a golf course just outside of town. It was mid November, the off season, so the party room there was cheap and perfect for our needs. It was a quiet drive along the coast road with forest on one side and sea views on the other for much of the way. My occasional glances confirmed that Lucy seemed calm; I was watching for any nervousness, unease, or hesitation on her part but was pleased that I saw or sensed none.

There were lots of cars in the parking lot when we got there; excellent, I thought; I didn’t want to be one of the first and stand around waiting. I had given some of my buddies the heads up, the ones I thought most responsible and understanding of the large step my sister was taking by going out for the first time since her boyfriend’s death. I needn’t have worried; the guys had obviously coordinated a bit so that they didn’t flock around us. But I could see by the surprised appraisals my sister quickly got that these guys weren’t in the charity/supportive mood; they wanted to dance with Lucy.

But even with ample masculine willingness surrounding her, Lucy didn’t take anywhere near the number of opportunities offered her; she danced probably with fewer than half of the guys that asked. Watching her carefully, I saw her beg off with fatigue and I knew that she wasn’t faking it. I quietly spread the word that she was sincere; this first social outing in six months was actually tiring her. I watched for signs that might have signaled her wish to leave but saw none. She seemed happy to dance a few times and simply absorb the social exuberance that surrounded her. Finally, around eleven, I approached her and asked if she wanted to go home. My timing was perfect. With a small smile she agreed.

It was a quiet drive until about the halfway point when Lucy suddenly perked up and said “can we pull over here? At the viewpoint?” A couple of hundred yards ahead there was a viewpoint overlooking the ocean. It was a remote spot with a lovely view. In fact, with a clear night and a half moon it was particularly picturesque. I was happy to comply with her request. I pulled over and turned off the engine. We sat quietly listening to the clicking of the cooling engine until Lucy began to explain; “this was a favorite spot for Craig and me. We often parked here and, you know, just talked. In fact we had parked here the weekend before he…before he died.” And with that her head dropped a bit. No wonder, I thought, what a memory that must be for her. I knew she hadn’t talked about that to anyone so I felt honored to be her confidant. I switched to listening mode and wondered idly how long it would be before the cold November night would seep into the truck’s cab and shorten our stay.

We sat silently for long moments; me taking in the beauty of the night, the moon on the water, the odd cloud skudding by and Lucy also gazing out over the ocean, remembering, I realized, her times here with Craig. Finally, before any words were spoken, I saw a single tear begin. I reached across and took her left hand in my right hand and said quietly “hey”. She turned to me and I could see she was very close to full-on crying. “We can head home if you prefer,” I said.

“No.” It was almost guttural, an effort to get the word out. “No, I want to stay here for just a little while.” So I gently rubbed her hand with my other hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We had a good time tonight, didn’t we?” I was careful to make it “we” and not “you”. “It was good to get out, don’t you think?”

“I guess so, Tom. Your friends are nice, but I’m sure they were just being nice. You know, dancing with Tom’s sister.”

I didn’t expect that. I was genuinely taken aback at how wrong she was. “Luce, you’re soooo, so wrong. Those guys wanted to dance with you. Sure, they know about Craig, but those guys were definitely attracted to you. Take it from me; I’m a guy and I know the difference between guys ‘being nice’ and guys that are actually interested in a girl. And they were interested.”

There was a long pause before her reply; “sure, you’re a guy, Tom, but you’re my brother. I’m not sure you’re really seeing the picture.”

“Seeing? Luce, two of those guys wanted your phone number. Do you think they’re faking that? I didn’t give it to them because I thought I should ask you first. But believe me, there was no faking it there at the party.”

Another long pause. “Well, maybe that’s true, Tom, but even if guys are interested in me I’m not sure I’ll ever feel it again, you know?” A long pause and I could see she was struggling with the next sentence. “I often think that something inside me died with Craig, that I’ll never be interested in another guy. That every guy I meet will somehow know about how my boyfriend died and that after that there’ll be a lot of pity mixed in, you know?” And with that I saw the tears finally given their release as they began to stream down Lucy’s cheek.

“That’s absolutely not true, Luce. Some guy out there is going to find you and will love you as you are. Luce, you’re beautiful,” there: I’d said it out loud. For the first time in our lives I’d told my sister how lovely she really was and held my breath hoping that she’d accept at least some of the truth in that. I could see from her expression it was a hard fight, like she wanted to believe me but just couldn’t muster sufficient credence to accept it. After a minute I could see that belief was losing the battle to scepticism. I didn’t know what to do at that point. I worried that if our evening, this first social outing for my sister ended with tears that she might never try it again. I could see a lonely future for her.

It broke my heart as she sat in the truck quietly crying so without even thinking I reached over and drew her across the seat to me and hugged her. I began to think that maybe I’d made a really dumb mistake as then her tears really began to flow. It was as if the last hurdle to her sadness had been removed. I could feel her body heaving with her gulps as she wept. I tightened my hug and said whatever anyone would say in a situation like that, telling her that it was all right to cry, that it’ll get better, that she was beautiful and that there was a guy out there somewhere that will love her. And then I said “Hell, Luce, there’s a guy right here that loves you.” I was surprised when that seemed to land with her, that her gulps lessened and that she glanced up at me.

“Really,” I said, “Luce, if you’re looking for guys that will love you I’m sitting right here” and leaned over and kissed the top of her head, inhaling for the first time the delicious scent of her hair. Her crying seemed to lessen and she seemed to calm as the cold continued to creep into the truck. Partly from the cold, partly from a wave of affection for my sister that hit me without warning, I slipped my arm beneath her coat and around her, feeling the cloth of her dress and the warmth of her body beneath it. It seemed to improve her feelings as she repeated the gesture with me. And I have to confess that feeling her arms around me only increased that tide of affection.

I kissed her hair again as her tears came to a stop. She shifted a bit so that her head rested on my shoulder. My hand drifted up and down her side as I continued to try to comfort her. But there was an entirely unintended consequence as I realized I was beginning to enjoy having her so close, to feel her softness beneath her dress. I realized that my pulse was beginning to speed up as I kissed her hair, then her brow. “I know you love me, Tom, but I just can’t believe that some guy who isn’t my brother will be attracted to me, you know? I mean…really attracted, you know, in that ‘boy/girl’ way?” And as I drew back a couple of inches I could see that what she had said cost her a blush.

“You’re nuts, Luce, I said you’re beautiful and I mean it. These aren’t just brother eyes that are seeing you; they’re guy eyes. And you’re not just beautiful, sis, you’re hot.” Now it was time for me to blush as she glanced up before returning to my shoulder. What a night for disclosures, I thought: first I’d told my sister how beautiful she was, then that I loved her, and finally that she was hot. To top it off she looked up at me again and if I ever saw a woman ready for a kiss, it was right there. In my truck. On that cold November night. So I kissed her. Lightly, very lightly on her lips. What was I doing? Damned if I know or knew at the time. All I knew was that everything I’d told her was true and that I just wanted to prove it with a kiss. And what a kiss it was; the soft pressing of her lips to mine, her gentle acceptance of the kiss, her quiet sigh as we broke the kiss and she returned to my shoulder.

“It’s been a long, long time, Tom. So long. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” We rested for a few more minutes, each of us absorbing what we’d just done. A classic one-off, I thought, until she shifted herself and bent her head back, ready for another. So I complied with her unspoken request and kissed her again, harder, longer, deeper, unleashing my feelings for those long, wonderful seconds. We ended the kiss again as she laid her head against my chest and said “the last time I was here, Tom, was with Craig; I told you that. We talked a lot that night about where we were going, how much we meant to each other, and agreed that we wanted to, well, take it to the next level as they say. But we never did because…because…”

“It’s ok, sis, I know.”

“I’m not sure I can make that commitment with any other guy. I’m not even sure I could, you know, turn a guy on that much.”

I knew she was wrong beyond her wildest dreams, but how to convince her? Words didn’t seem to be working all that well, at least not my words. So I reached under her chin with my hand, lifted it, and kissed her for the third time. Whatever she felt or said, I knew that she wanted my kisses, wanted to be kissed. So I kept them up until I realized that it wasn’t just Tom kissing Lucy, it was Lucy kissing Tom as well. And I understood that perhaps our kisses were succeeding where my words weren’t.

As we continued to kiss, my hand, warmed by her body heat beneath her coat, moved almost of its own accord, gliding up and down her side, feeling her ribs, sliding down along the curve above her hip and then gliding lightly along her hip. Any thought of trespass, any hesitation on my part vanished as I heard a soft moan from my sister as my hands and lips continued their adventure. After perhaps ten minutes I realized that her hands were moving as well, caressing my back, lightly traversing my chest beneath my coat. All of a sudden I realized that it wasn’t just my lips and hands that Lucy had somehow activated. With a shock I realized I was getting hard. Very hard. What do the Asians say? That every problem offers an opportunity? I realized that my sister would probably realize my state soon so I broke our kiss, took a deep breath, and said “can’t turn a guy on, huh, sis? I can show you the world’s most reliable lie detector: behold, Exhibit A.”

Her eyes, now dried of all tears, widened with the shock of her realization. Her hands left me and flew to her cheeks, now crimson. “Oh. My. God, Tom…oh my god. I…I don’t…I don’t…” and I laughed as I took her back into my embrace.

“Whatever you think, Luce, I think my other head has his own ideas, right? If you can turn your brother on this much, just imagine what you’re going to do with those other guys out there,” and laughed some more, seeing my condition as the greatest joke my sister and I had ever had.

Lucy’s blush faded as she stared at the tent in my trousers until she finally tore her gaze away and began looking into my eyes instead. She wasn’t laughing. My laughter faded along with her blush. We looked into each other’s eyes for a long minute until she finally reached behind my head and drew me into a long, affectionate kiss and I realized with another shock that her lips were parting slightly, inviting me to do the same. I did. I felt the tip of her tongue making the most hesitant exploration until it met mine. As the tips of our tongues began greeting each other for the very first time it almost felt like Lucy had completed a circuit, that an energy, more powerful than any electricity, began to course along the circuit that we had connected between our bodies. The energy grew and began to flow with more force as our tongues began their headlong exploration of each other, of each other’s welcoming mouths.

“God, that’s good. Sooo good,” Lucy breathed against my neck as we finally broke our first truly passionate kiss. She had never been more right in her life; it was soooo good. The warm, soft press of her lips, the delicious wetness of her tongue on mine, its curiosity and activity growing by the second, it seemed as we both grew in confidence, as both our kisses became more demanding, more loving. I don’t know how my sister felt, but I felt a small disappointment every time we had to break our kiss to breathe. But even then it was a new thrill to me to feel Lucy’s warm, sometimes panting, breath on my neck, against my cheek, on my chest.

I will be the first to confess my lack of experience in the romance area, but my body somehow didn’t need much training. My lips seemed to know just what to do as they pressed against my sister’s soft lips, as they trailed down her neck and found that special hollow below her chin, as they kissed that spot, kissed their way back up to her lips, her cheeks, her hair. And seemed to know the words to say as I whispered over and over to Lucy how beautiful she really was, how much I loved her. It was as if I’d stored up twenty years of “I love you’s”. My hands seemed just as skilled despite the same paucity of experience. They thrilled to her warm softness, the feel of her muscles moving with every tiny shift of her body. My body seemed to crave her closeness, the warmth of her body against mine, but my mind was screaming, of course, “YOUR SISTER, Tom, THIS IS YOUR SISTER YOU’RE HOLDING, KISSING” but it was as if the words fell on deaf inner ears, for the simple reason that my body was continually registering Lucy’s need, how much she obviously needed what we were doing.

Where was I? Oh yes; my hands. As they glided first up and down her side, feeling the thin fabric of her dress sliding with my touch along her skin, as I felt her body moving closer to me, as they moved around her and began to caress her back, to feel the wonderful wrinkling of her spine for the first time she moved even closer. No, now she pressed herself totally against me so that we began melding together the heat from our bodies. “Get as cold as you want, November; Luce and I are keeping each other warm,” I thought. But my hands seemed to have thoughts of their own as my left hand drifted around and brushed my sister’s right breast. Her body immediately stiffened slightly and I thought I’d committed the worst sin, the worst taboo, that my touch would end the wonder and delight of the past thirty minutes with Lucy. But I was stunned to realize I was wrong, as her body immediately relaxed again and pressed tightly against me as she uttered a quiet, soft moan. My hand, encouraged, did more than brush as I gently cupped her breast and fondled it, my thumb moving across her stiffening nipple as my sister’s moan was replaced with “oh god…Tom…that’s so good…” and almost to herself “feels so good”. I was vaguely conscious of her body shifting again, of it twisting slightly so that she cast one of her legs over mine, her thigh beginning to touch, no – to press against my erection. I felt her hand descending, caressing my chest, my midriff, heading to…

“No, Luce, we can’t go there,” I tried to push back, to stop this before we went too far, wherever too far was. “I’m sorry, Luce,” I whispered, “I was wrong to touch you like that. I’m your brother. You’re my sister. You’re hurting badly. I shouldn’t do what I did to you.”

She rested her head against my chest, her hand resting on the fabric of my trousers. “How about I be the judge of that, bro?” she said quietly and continued “Tom, I never knew how much I needed this, to be held, to be kissed. It’s wonderful. It’s like I’ve been dead for months and somehow you’ve brought me back to life. I don’t understand it either, but, Tom, it feels so good that it can’t be bad.” I couldn’t think of a single argument with what she said, so simply took her back into a hug and resumed kissing her. And as I did my hand fell to her right thigh now resting comfortably across my leg and for the first time in our lives became acquainted with it, gliding back and forth lightly on it, tingling to the feel of her dress sliding easily along her stockings, squeezing her thigh as her body suddenly shook and was thrust against me accompanied by a deep, almost guttural moan as her arms reflexively gripped me in a sudden hug.

I released her thigh and took her face in both hands, drawing back, and asked her “are you sure, Luce? Absolutely sure?” Her answer was to reach behind my head and pull me into yet another deep, slow kiss. I knew better than to ask her again.

It was getting late and even though we didn’t have a curfew we both knew better than to leave it too late, else our parents’ instincts be alerted, so I reluctantly broke our final kiss, withdrew my hands from my sister’s warm body, and started the engine. I thought to myself “this is a one-off…wonderful, but it can’t happen again,” and assumed whatever had happened between my sister and me was at an end. But I began to wonder at that as, instead of sliding back to her seat Lucy dug around for a minute and found the seat belt for the center seat, adjusted it, and clipped herself in.

We live in a fairly quiet town and encountered very few other vehicles on our way home. So few that, in fact, we sat at one intersection and waited out two full red lights as Lucy and I resumed our embrace, our caresses, and our kissing. I think I would have been perfectly happy had that intersection been our parking lot and had we stayed parked there for hours. But sensing a car approaching we finally and reluctantly drove home, with my sister’s head on my shoulder and her left hand on my thigh all the way. As we neared home I realized that my ‘lie detector’ was still operating.

We parked in our home’s driveway and again sat for a few minutes, wordlessly listening to the ticking of the cooling engine again. I spent those minutes in self-interrogation, asking myself what had happened at the viewpoint, what my feelings, my response had meant for me and more importantly what it had meant for my grieving sister. After several minutes it was as if I awoke and realized that my hand now rested on my sister’s, which in turn still rested on my thigh. A quick, almost furtive, kiss and we unbuckled and headed into the house.

But not via our front door as Lucy took my hand, gestured with a finger to her lips that we needed to be quiet, and led me down the side of the house to our back door, the one that opened to our basement “suite”. “This is it,” I thought, as she carefully opened the door, “this is where it ends, where whatever we had, whatever we did in the last hour has to end,” and I was surprised at the wave of regret that washed over me. Lucy continued to hold my hand as she led me into our foyer and released it only to remove and hang her coat as I did the same. Then something happened. Then, looking up to me, she seemed to spend long moments in thought, in deciding. Finally she lifted her head and we kissed again, a long, loving kiss. Then she extended the hug, resting her head against my chest as her hands drifted up and down my back. I probably could have stood like that, holding my sister to me, for another hour, but she had different ideas, it seemed.

Lucy let me into the suite and stopped at the center of the room and gestured for me to be quiet and to stay there as she stepped over to the stairs that led to the living floor above, closed the door, and quietly turned the passage lock. Then she returned to me, took both of my hands in hers, and stood for a moment as our eyes locked. That moment and the import of it did not immediately sink in with me, but looking back it’s a moment that I will remember all my life. It ended when she gave me a quick kiss, turned, took my hand, and led me to her bedroom.

HER bedroom? Yes, her bedroom. Now I was confused, glancing back through her door, watching her carefully as she quietly closed it. Finally she returned to me with another embrace and kiss and, stepping back, her eyes never leaving mine, with one quick and efficient motion reached behind and drew the zipper of her dress down. To say that I was in shock as I watched it fall easily and silently to the floor would be a massive understatement. I think I stopped breathing. Just as quickly her dextrous fingers unclipped her bra and I watched, stunned, as it joined her dress on the floor. Finally, almost proudly, with a quick motion she pushed her panties down and, within seconds of us entering her bedroom, my sister stood inches away from me now totally naked. Did I say ‘proudly’? Yes, that’s true. But her eyes now had something else to tell me and I realized quickly that it was, almost, defiance. It was as if my sister was now daring me.

Daring me to do what? My limbic brain seemed to know exactly what; my shaking fingers, accompanied by my shaking breaths, began to unbutton my shirt. I wasn’t quick enough, it seemed, as Lucy quickly took over and made quick work of my shirt and continued on without hesitation to my belt, disposing of its buckle as adroitly as she’d dealt with her own bra. My mind asked, irrelevantly, “do they teach that at nursing school?” as she pushed my trousers to the ground leaving only my boxers loudly announcing my arousal…inches from my sister’s naked body.

“Luce,” I struggled to talk, to put thought to words, “Luce, we can’t…we’re…you’re…my…sister.” I gulped, almost frozen in her unflinching gaze; the cliche “deer in the headlights” might have applied. I somehow felt like the prey that cobras can hypnotize. I was on the slipperiest slope I’d ever been on, desperately grasping for footing, desperately trying to stop my slide. “We can’t, sis; it’s wrong. You’re too…too vulnerable, Luce, and I can’t do it with you. To you.” And as an afterthought I added “it’s incest, sis; it’s a crime.”

She didn’t blink, our eyes still locked. “Vulnerable? Can’t? Don’t you think I should be the judge of that, Tom?” she asked. “No one, and I mean no one will ever know. Crime? How can it be a crime when I need this so much, when we love each other so much? And who is hurt if we make love, Tom? Who? Certainly not me; no, it’s the exact opposite for me, bro. I forgot for six months what love felt like, what it felt like to be loved, really loved. We started this an hour and a half ago, Tom, and I want to finish it. Now. RIGHT now.”

I couldn’t find a single thing in reply to her argument. All I could do was answer with a kiss as she immediately pulled me down onto her bed. There’s a book in bible called Revelations. Well, I had a religious experience myself with the revelations that came with my sister’s warm, naked body against mine, with the feeling of virtually all of our skin upon skin, of her hands dancing up and down my back, her leg casually, almost wantonly, cast across mine.

All the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin came to me now unobstructed by fabric as my fingertips felt the fine softness of the goosebumps now appearing on her arms, felt the almost transparent down of the tiny hairs there. And a new sense was awakened as I breathed in the spice scent of her hair, the distant scent of soap on her skin as my kisses left her lips and began to descend the length of her body, finding and celebrating for the very first time her breasts, her erect nipples, the firmness of her ribs, the softness of her navel all the while inhaling her scent, my brain marking and preserving it. I rose again to her lips and resumed my hands’ travel, their exploration and new discovery after new discovery. They glided down my sister’s back and felt that wonderful curve as they moved from her back to her buttocks and cupped them, feeling them suddenly clench to my touch, hearing her gasp as I squeezed her gently.

After perhaps the most wonderful twenty minutes of my life to that point Lucy broke one of our interminable kisses, rolled back on the bed, and reached to her bedside table. She fumbled for a second in the darkness as I heard the drawer open…more fumbling until she rolled back to face me and even in the darkness her wide grin was clear. “Here it is,” she said, placing a small packet in my hand. “Now it’s up to you, bro.” I felt the small packet, felt the unmistakable circular outline of its contents and stopped breathing – again – as its meaning hit me.

“Luce…if we do this we can’t go back. Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

“Idiot. Never been more sure in my life.”

“But where did you…”

“I work in a hospital, silly; they almost grow on trees. Now stop wasting time, will you? I can’t wait. And apparently neither can you,” she said as she reached down and – another first – lightly grasped my rigid cock. “Oh…” her sudden understanding; I wasn’t huge; I knew that. But I was at least average and maybe a bit more. But as she explained later to me, for a girl that had never had sex, she began to wonder about our respective sizes. Always the anatomist, my sister.

I tore open the condom, rolled onto my back, and began to roll it onto my erection until satisfied, I lay there for a few seconds to savor the moment. Lucy also savored it, but in a different way as she leaned over and slowly took my sheathed cock into her mouth, lubricating it as she did so. She then fell back onto the bed and with the lightest of gestured invited me to begin our incestuous dance, our taboo and illegal coupling. I rolled easily over her, suspending myself with my forearms on either side of her, but delayed her obvious invitation as I first kissed her and asked “are you sure, Luce, last chance to stop,” and was answered with a shake of her head, tears beginning to appear, and one more deep, long kiss.

Again I delayed as I bent down and kissed the hollow beneath her chin, then descended to her breasts lying, I thought, in wait for me. I took her right nipple between my lips and pressed them together, then licked the nipple tentatively, circling it with my tongue before turning to her left breast. I was vaguely aware of her body beneath me shaking, then beginning mild convulsions as my lips and tongue went about their new tasks. “Oh god, oh god, ohhh…Tom…I…unnnhhh” as her body seemed to spasm, shaking us both.

Finally I senses she could not wait any longer and I knew I certainly couldn’t as I reached down between us, found my stiff cock, and began to probe my sister’s vaginal area for the very first time. Finding her labia swollen and wet I moved my glans up and down, adding to the lubrication her mouth and tongue had already given me. Gasps registered with me, almost as distant sounds filtering through the roaring in my ears as we came closer and closer to the ultimate taboo, closer and closer to committing incest together. Gliding up and down, my glans eventually registered her opening, her real opening, the opening that to every young male signaled the Alladin’s Cave of sexual pleasure, the goal of every erection. I felt my sister’s hands dig into my back as my cock paused in its traversing between her labia and made its first cautious entry, pressing the head of my cock slightly into my sister, into her vagina. It was less than an inch, possibly, and then as I pressed further, felt her arms pull me to her, felt my entire glans slip into Lucy. Her breathing was now panting, her breath puffing in my ear as if she were running uphill, struggling with her words “gentle, Tom, slow…please…”

I was happy to comply; even though every cell of my body now wanted to enter my sister fully, entirely, to thrust my entire length into her welcoming, hot Alladin’s Cave, the urge was beaten back by a tide of affection, of love that I’d never experienced for my younger sister. I was amazed, frankly, that I could wait, could continue our intercourse slowly as she wished. I waited, no, we waited a few moments until she whispered softly “ok, Tom,” and I pressed more, pushing as gently as I could another inch into my sister. More gasps, more pause, until I pulled back and then, almost timidly, pushed back into her, pressing another inch. We repeated this slowly, carefully even, until I was half way pressed into Lucy’s vagina. A flashing, errant thought raced through my brain; isn’t there supposed to be something blocking me? I knew Lucy was a virgin; we both were, but…where was her hymen? I pressed another inch in as I felt her thighs separating wider for me, felt her drawing her knees up and placing each foot flat on the bed on either side of me. I rested on one single forearm as my other hand reached back and caressed her thigh as she began to squeeze my body with her thighs.

I drew back again and pushed and began to feel her tight, wet vaginal muscles clenching around me as her juices lubricated us more and more. My thrusts were become easier and slicker. I was perhaps three quarters of my length into my sister as I felt her muscles stretching for the first time for a man when through the roar in my ears I heard “oh god, Tom, that’s amazing, I’m…fantastic…you feel…” as coherence seemed to fail her but her meaning was received by me loud and clear. “Let me see,” she murmured, as she craned her neck to watch me enter her. I lifted myself slightly and looked down with her, amazed at the sight of my hard, wet shaft slipping into my sister. With that we both squeezed our eyes shut briefly.

“I love you, Luce,” I said, as her eyes opened and our gaze connected. I wanted to see her expression when I was fully entered into her, so I pressed as hard as I could until I felt myself bottoming out. I was rewarded with her eyes, still locked on mine, suddenly opening wide followed by her wide grin as we reached our goal, as my cock pressed fully into her, as its head felt her cervix pressing against it. I broke our gaze and collapsed onto her, burying my face against her neck, feverishly kissing her ear, her neck, her lips as she began to laugh out loud and return my kisses. All doubts, all hesitation, all caution disappeared immediately as we lay together, brother’s and sister’s cock and vagina finally fully united, for several minutes.

Finally I began to withdraw and then for the first time in our lives slowly thrust my entire length in one delicious stroke into my sister, rested there for a few seconds, and then slowly repeated the motion. Within five or six strokes it was as if we had done this all our lives, as if we were one single body in two halves, Shakespeare’s “beast with two backs” and we began to move together, Lucy’s hips rising from the bed to meet each of my thrusts. Our thrusts came faster, somehow synchronizing with our breathing that was now coming in faster and faster pants, as I pressed deeper and deeper into my younger sister with each thrust. Language at first seemed lost to both of us as our bodies did all the speaking that we needed, each of my thrusts met with a guttural “unh, unh, unh…” from Lucy, her sensual grunts the audible record of our quickening metronomic coupling. Faster, faster and harder yet, my cock continue to pierce my sister’s vagina, its walls getting wetter and wetter, slicker and slicker as our sexual communion reduced our verbal communion to feral moans and gasps.

Then language suddenly returned as with a deep groan Lucy said “Tom…I…I love you, I…OH GOD…Tom, I’m…” as her orgasm shocked us both with its sudden arrival, shaking her body with its shattering euphoric pleasure. I plunged then as deeply into her as I could possibly managed and held myself deep within my sister as I felt the spasms of her vaginal muscles on my cock. It was as if my cock had somehow become a sexual seismograph, registering the measure of her climax, recording every wave that passed through her.

It was my signal, and I replied to her “I love you too, Luce…god how I love you,” as I felt my testicles begin to pump my seed, began to feel its coursing up the length of my penis, and was amazed at the joyous feel of my sperm shooting jet after jet into my sister’s womb, only to be stopped and held captive by our straining condom.

I stopped in my thrusts as my cock spasmed and released its jets as Lucy, between gasps, managed “oh god, Tom, Jesus…I can feel you…I can feel you cum inside me…” Every thought in my head suddenly vanished in a blinding flash with only one thought allowed to remain, one question: who needed this most? My grieving sister whose body seemed to shake with an unending convulsion beneath me? Or me, with my body now as rigid as rigor mortis? I was brought back to consciousness by my sister’s semi-coherent mutterings of “oh god, oh my god, I’m…I…Tom…you’re…unnnhhh…fantastic.”

I was shocked by how much energy our sex had drained from me; it was all I could do, as I felt my rigid cock slowly softening, all I could do not to collapse onto my sister. Finally, slowly, with deep reluctance I rolled to my side, feeling our slick, sweating bodies separating, and heard the delicate ‘slop’ as my cock finally fell out from Lucy. “Awww…” was all she said as she quickly rolled onto her side to face me and pulled me into her hug. We lay together and felt each other’s breath on our cooling bodies. I cannot speak for my sister, but I felt more content, more, well, complete, than I’d ever felt in my life. By her soft breathing, by the loving way that she held herself to me I guessed that my sister felt much the same way. I returned to the real world for a few seconds, sat up, and removed the near-full condom. I held it up comically for us both to see and watched Lucy’s eyes widen at the sheer volume it contained. I leapt from her bed and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the evidence of our incest before rushing back to my sister’s warm bed and her warmer body.

We kissed occasionally in a lazy, languid way for about fifteen or twenty minutes until Lucy finally said “so, bro, how was I?”

“You were fantastic, Luce, unbelievable.”

She hit me lightly on the chest, looked up at me, and said “liar.”

“No lie, sis, absolute truth.” And then, after a few seconds I added “and you know how to tell if I’m telling the truth.”

She was quiet a few seconds more until she smiled and said “are you telling me your lie detector is still working?”

“It’s never stopped working.” At that she laughed and I felt her body shift as her hand reached down and found my semi-flaccid penis and began to gently fondle it before reaching down to cup my sac, rolling my balls slowly. Within seconds my flaccid state vanished as I became harder and harder under her touch.

“Yup, still working, still telling the truth,” she laughed. Without warning she rolled away from me and reached again the table’s drawer, still open. Smiling at her success she rolled back to me with another condom. This time she ripped it open herself and passed it from hand to hand, feeling its rigid ring, testing its thinness before stripping the air from its tip and rolling it onto my waiting, eager staff. Her fingers lightly stroked it down, gliding down to its base several times; more, I thought, then strictly necessary but who was I to complain? I continued to lie on my back as my sister rose to her knees and then easily swung one leg over me so that she was straddling me mid-thigh. She grinned, almost smirked, as she began edging up my legs. I understood her intent and stared at her goal, my stiff pole, as I felt it become harder and harder at her slow approach.

“God, Luce, you’re killing me,” I managed through gritted teeth. She just continued her roguish grin as she reached down, stroked me several times, and finally placed herself directly over my waiting staff. As she lowered herself slowly onto me we both gasped. I didn’t think my lungs large enough to accept my inhalation, barely conscious of my sister’s response, as she reflexively threw her head back. She waited interminable seconds before lifting herself and falling again, this time faster, impaling herself upon me, gasping again as my cock reached deeply into her. Finally she leaned over me and suspended herself with one hand on each side of my head, lowering herself enough that I was able to crane my neck so that my lips could reach and envelope her nipples. Now I was licking, kissing, sucking greedily as her tempo rapidly quickened, as her breathing became a ragged mix of panting and gasping. “Luce, I’m going to cum,” I gasped.

“Not yet, Tom, please not yet; I’m almost there. Just hold on, bro, hold on long enough for your little sister to…ARRGGHH…UNNHHHH…” as she began suddenly to buck uncontrolled on me, as she fell onto me, my hands on her hips and then on the globes of her buttocks, pulling her deeper onto me, feeling them clench with her orgasm. It was my release as I mimicked her as my orgasm pumped rope after rope of my semen, millions of my seed, all desperately trying to wash my sister’s womb, her egg, stopped only by the thinnest layer of latex. As our orgasms seemed to wash over each other the bed actually shuddered and creaked with our bodies’ shaking. Our lips, our mouths, our tongues instinctively found each other and our longest and most passionate kiss of the night continued until the waves of our mutual climax finally receded.

Breathless, exhausted by our lovemaking, our fuck, we lay together, Luce unable to move, virtually weightless on top of me. We could have lain like that all night, I thought, I would have willingly held my sister on me for hours, but finally she rolled off of me as for the second time that night I felt myself slipping out of her. She fell onto her back beside me and, glancing at another filled-to-the-brim condom her eyes widened as she asked “how do you do that, Tom? How can you possibly produce so much cum so fast?”

“I have no idea, sis, I’ve never tried or tested myself before. Maybe it’s just you? Maybe my balls want to produce gallons and gallons of seeeemen,” I said, drawing the word out like a hissing snake, “just for my sister.”

“I wonder what it would be like to feel you, I mean really feel you, Tom, inside me? I wonder what it will be like to feel you cum inside me, to feel all that sperm hitting me, soaking me?”

All of a sudden one of her words stood out as if it had been shouted; “will”. Somehow I’d assumed this was a one-off, an unbelievably wonderful single episode of taboo love, incestuous sex with my sister that could never possibly be repeated. But “will”? I had to know, so I rolled onto my side and gently rolled Lucy onto her side facing me. “Will? You said ‘will’, Luce. Do you understand what you’re saying? I mean, this has been unbelievable, probably the best thing in my life so far, but it’s wrong, sis. It’s incest. It’s a crime. If anyone ever found out…”

She was quiet now. “No one is ever going to find out, Tom. No one. I can keep a secret and so can you. I love you.” She paused, focusing her thoughts. “Tom, for months I’ve felt dead inside. I felt like that would never change. All I could see was the rest of my life stretching through some kind of desert forever. But it’s like with you I found the oasis in that desert. It’s like there is no desert now, bro; instead of a desert it’s like a garden. It’s like I can live again. And that’s because of you. And because of tonight.” And with that she kissed me again. “And you know that every garden needs care and,” I could see her blush now, for the first time since we’d entered the house, “and…and…fertilizing. Are you a good gardener, Tom?”

“I think I can learn, Luce, I’ve got a hell of a good teacher.”

So we fell back onto her pillows and after a while fell into pillow talk. “Where did you get the condoms, Luce?”

“I live in a student residence, Tom, and work in a hospital. They grow on trees there,” and giggled. “I’ve got an endless supply, but now I’m thinking of a different approach. I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to feel you ‘bareback’, bro. Maybe the pill, but probably an IUD; we have a gynaecology resident that is happy to help students with that.

It was very late by then when I asked “can I sleep here, Luce? Can I actually sleep with you?”

“I want that almost as much as I want you, Tom. Maybe even more. And there will definitely be times when we can do that. But not tonight. What if Mom or Dad wandered down here and found us?” I couldn’t argue with her logic, so I slowly and reluctantly rose from her bed, removed the condom for the second time that night, disposed of the evidence, unlocked the door to the stairs, and headed to my own bed, immediately missing the warmth of my sister’s body and her bed.

Sleep came so quickly that it was as if I’d been drugged and I didn’t awaken until I could hear muffled footsteps and activity on the floor above. I stumbled out of bed, showered, dressed, and headed upstairs, not checking on Lucy first. I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see it was almost nine o’clock, well past my usual get-up time. As I climbed the stairs the delicious scent of Mom’s breakfast activity drew me like a magnet. As I neared the top of the stairs I suddenly wondered: how will Lucy and I react to each other? Will one look give us away? Did Mom suspect anything?

“I guess Lucy’s sleeping in too?” I asked innocently.

“What? Oh no, Tom, she was up an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh,” I said, fearing the worst, fearing our “recent Lucy”, my grieving sister had returned.

Turning from the stove to face me, Mom’s brow was furrowed; “that must have been a great party, Tom…”

“Huh?”

“Your sister was practically bouncing when she came upstairs. She had on her running gear, was laughing, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and shot out the front door. Said she was going for a run. Tom, Lucy hasn’t run since Craig died.” I sat staring back at her, my coffee cooling, until she added “whatever you did to make her feel so good, Tom, I hope you can keep doing it. It’s like you’ve give our old Lucy back to us.”

As she swung back to her task I had to turn my gaze to the window quickly to hide my instant smile. I knew it probably looked more a leer than a smile as I sipped my coffee and replied to our Mom “Keep doing it? Ok, Mom, I think I can manage that, I think I can arrange it,” and had to work very hard not to laugh out loud at the future hours and hours of sexual pleasure and incestuous lovemaking that lay ahead for my sister and me.

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