Sandy and I

My father was wrongfully imprisoned for fourteen years before he became a free man. He was put in prison not long after he got married, just about the time my older sister Sandy was born. A man had killed a boy on our block and tampered with the evidence to make it look as if my father had done it. That faked evidence sent my father to jail. The detective on the case, Bob Buckly, smelled a rat from the beginning, and even though his testimony was used to convict my father, he never gave up searching for the true killer. It got him fired from his job, but that left him free to look for the facts as a private eye. When he found the DNA evidence that showed that my father could not possibly have killed the victim, the state had to let my father go free, and the true killer was convicted. Between the trial time and his time in prison, my father had wasted fourteen years of his life.

While he was in prison, Sandy and my mother lived at my grandparents’ home. The state gave my father a few thousand dollars as a result of his wrongful conviction, and he got a small apartment in Brooklyn and started work in the garment section of Manhattan while going to college to become an engineer.

Sandy had just turned fifteen when my mother had me. Sandy and I shared the front bedroom of the apartment while I was growing up. She married her boyfriend, Nick, when I was six, and they divorced when I was 11. They never had children, and I was led to understand that Nick forced her to have her tubes tied so they could never have children, and this was one of the reasons she divorced him. I didn’t know enough about anatomy to know what tube tying was, but the idea that she could never have children seemed grim to me. After the divorce, Sandy got a job doing office work, then as a secretary working for a trucking company.

If you know Brooklyn summers you wouldn’t be surprised at how Sandy and I dressed mid-summer at home. Temperatures routinely reached 90 degrees Fahrenheit, sometimes 100, sometimes more. I typically wore shorts in the apartment, or sometimes just underwear. Sandy would wear a bikini or just panties and bra. There was always a housedress to throw over her shoulders if someone came to the apartment. The way we dressed was okay with our folks. When I was three and graduated from my crib, both Sandy and I slept in the same queen size bed. Sleeping in the same bed with your sister with only underwear on? I never thought twice about it.

You had to realize that Sandy was my second mother. Soon after I was born she was given the job of bathing me and often feeding me. When she took a shower she would take me with her. It was faster that way. When at age three I grew tall enough to pull on the hair above her crotch, she would pick me up and put my face to the shower for a second. That broke the crotch-hair pulling habit.

She liked going to museums and concerts, and when she didn’t have a friend to go with, she took me. I went to my first concert of classical music at age seven. I really enjoyed those excursions.

We were still sleeping together in that old queen-size bed by the time I was fifteen. After her divorce, even as an eleven-year-old kid I could see that Sandy was wiped out by her marriage. I could practically feel her depression. She moped around. She hardly dated. Even that young I sometimes rubbed her back. She liked it. In bed at night I would snuggle up against her. I liked it and sometimes it put a smile on her face. By the time I was thirteen we had started sleeping like spoons. There was nothing sexual in it for me. I could just feel her depression, and somehow it eased up when I did that.

By the time I was fifteen, my mother, an accomplished seamstress, was working with my father at his own business in Manhattan. He got a partner he could trust in the business, and finally got enough money together for them to take a month-long vacation in Europe.

And that’s when my love affair started with my sister. Since she worked I became the cook, and, frankly, I had become a good cook. So when she came home she walked in to a decent meal, not a gourmet meal, but something that tasted good while it nourished her. And I knew her job had her sitting over a desk all day long, so after supper I sat her down and got behind her and dug into her shoulders and back, and then scratched her scalp till she begged for mercy. She loved it. At night in bed she seemed to like her spoon-position hug more than usual. Next morning I got up in time to give her a decent breakfast. Without parents it felt like a honeymoon.

You look at your sister every day and get to know every one of her habits. There is no mystery. She is just your sister. That kills any feelings of sex, especially when she is depressed, as Sandy was. Yet, sometimes, the person you think you know has aspects you don’t know. You don’t know you don’t know until a situation comes up in which that person shows them to you. And that’s what happened after supper the third day.

I had spent a lot of time on a supper of baked chicken and potatoes with string beans, and added rye toast, and I had bought grape juice to drink. It was just delicious. I knew Sandy would love it, and she did. When we got up to clean up the dishes she flung her arms around me and kissed me on the lips saying, “You crazy kid you. You spent the whole afternoon on this, didn’t you.”

It caught me by surprise. I liked the feeling of those lips against mine. I managed to get it together enough to say, “Yeah, and any time you think you like my stuff you can plant another one on my mouth.”

She looked at my face with a strange look, and said, “Put down the dishes,” which I did. Then she wrapped her arms around me again, more slowly and more gently, and said, “Got news for you. I liked that kiss too.” Her eyes looked into the distance. “Long time since I’ve had a kiss I really liked.” Then she gently put her lips to mine, and the feeling was electric. Everything else faded away. We wrapped arms around each other and savored a very long kiss, gently moving lips so as to get the most sensation.

What we did next started a process going that I could never envision just an hour before. Simultaneously, we said, “You got me turned on.” It was too much of a revelation to discuss, so we didn’t. We just went back to kissing. And after a while the dishes decided that they would have to wait a while to get washed, while we went into the living room, where I lay down with my head in her lap, looking at her puzzled face with my puzzled eyes, and said, “Wow.”

She thought for a while and slowly said, “I think I lucked out in my choice of brothers.”

We did get the dishes done, but we spent most of that evening smooching. In the past kissing her would never occur to me, particularly smooching, for minutes, for a couple of hours, but she was delicious to kiss. It occurred to me that I had never realized she was a female before that day. I had dated a few girls by that time, and kissed a few goodnight, but all that was nothing compared to this. I was kissing someone I had seen depressed for years, and it was clear to me that our kissing was lifting her depression. Making her depression go away did something inside me that I could not describe, but I felt it in my chest and stomach.

When we went to bed I adopted my usual spoon position holding her. She said, “Not tonight. I have to figure this thing out.” That put butterflies in my stomach. I wondered if I had driven her away, at a time I had suddenly found I loved her as a kissing partner. But she didn’t let me touch her that night. It drove me crazy. I couldn’t sleep.

But in the morning I got up as usual and cranked out her usual breakfast. We didn’t talk much, but she did say, “The usual super breakfast. You are a hard-working brother.” I did get a peck on the cheek when she left for work. I was a mess inside at school that day. I didn’t know what the story was. Would she leave home because we had done forbidden kissing? My jaws chattered.

Nevertheless, I worked my tail off to make her a decent supper. She was a hard-working sister and she deserved to eat well. And we went through supper with very little talk, and no touching. When I told her this whole thing was tying my stomach in knots she said, “Sssshhhh. I’m not dumb. I know.”

We went through cleaning up the dishes without a word. Then, without fanfare, she said, “Let’s take a walk.” And she led me by the hand into our bedroom. And she said, “Let’s lie down.” And we did.

After what seemed an interminable time, she finally said, “Yesterday I totally pigged out on you. I had a meal of kisses that beat out anything I ever did with any of my boyfriends, and that made my marriage look like a joke. I really needed those kisses. Better than any ice cream. Filled my body up with joy.”

That relaxed me but I knew more was coming. “Only problem is, I’m stealing a fifteen-year-old kid from all the other women in this world. You deserve a chance to try them all out and find the right one for you. I’m fifteen years older. Had a terrible marriage. I’m a washed out hag. You need to find better.”

So that was the problem. It just so happened that I had a few thoughts of my own about that. “Exactly. You’re a washed out hag. Turned into a hag by a lousy marriage.”

She turned toward me and smiled. “Exactly, Gary. We understand each other. A year from now this will have been water under the bridge. We’ll both remember it and you can smile.”

I looked at her earnestly and realized that no diamond could be more precious to me than my big sister at that moment. And I said, “I want to kiss the way we kissed every day of my life. When I’m sick as a dog, when you’re sick as a dog, when we’re both happy, or sad, or miserable. There is not a kiss that feels as good as yours, Sis. And if there is, I don’t mind missing it. Yours is the one I want.” Her jaw dropped and her eyes filled with tears. Next thing I knew, she was crying.

Thank God I instinctively knew what to do. I held her in my arms and kissed her cheeks and her ears, and caressed her hair. It didn’t matter that she was fifteen years older than I. I squeezed her to me and rubbed her back. She began to talk and I said, “Shut up.” And I continued squeezing and caressing.

The idea of losing my kissing buddy was too much. I said, “Let’s let this thing work out the way it wants to work out. We’re both enjoying it too much to stop, so let’s keep going. And everyone be decent to everyone else. And if it turns out it’s not working, then let go gently so no one gets hurt any more than they have to. And always remember that we’re family.”

“Little brother, you don’t sound fifteen.”

“Well, you forced me to think real hard. And I keep thinking the kisser of my dreams is right next to me. And she has been sleeping with me throughout my life, so we know each other, so that makes for less unpleasant surprises. Maybe I’m wrong but it feels like it.”

We had run out of talk. We just lay together caressing and here and there gently kissing.

The next morning I had her favorite breakfast for her as usual. And she gave me a quick kiss before leaving, but there were tears in her eyes. And then she left.

And I left nothing out at supper time. She had a meal fit for a queen because that’s what she seemed to be to me. She seemed a bit jittery, but I figured that whatever would happen would happen. I seemed to be taking our kissing session a lot better than she was. We didn’t talk much when we did the dishes.

And then she said, “Little brother, come with me.” And she led me into the bedroom. “Okay if you do what I do?”

I said, “Fine.”

And then, one piece of clothing at a time, she stripped till she was bare naked. I figured I was supposed to follow suit, so I stripped till I was bare naked. This was the first time since we had taken showers together when I was little that I saw her entire body without clothing. I had looked at her thousands of times in my lifetime but suddenly I realized that I was looking at a pretty woman. She was slim, of medium height, and her brunette tresses fell below her shoulders. Her tummy was trim, but just round enough to turn me on. Her breasts were clearly bigger than those of my mother.

Then she pushed me over on my side and sidled up to me. That’s when she took hold of my penis. I had no warning. Wiggling up to me she jiggled it around till it was over her vagina, and then she began pushing it inside her. I didn’t know whether to push her away. I felt as if I were fainting.

But never in my life had anything felt that terrific, so following her lead, I pushed it in as far as I could. I can’t describe the feelings. The tingling of my penis. The waves of feeling in my belly and my back. I didn’t dare move. It felt too good. The warmth. The moisture. Her occasional vaginal spasms. Kissing Sis was delicious. And she began moaning, “Oh, Gary…have I needed this…for a long time….” And without warning her body began jerking and wave after wave of spasms went up and down her vagina, pressing against my penis. My cheeks were greeted with a face full of tears. She dug her fingernails into my back. And all I could do was squeeze her and rub her back and neck. And I remembered from some sex story, stick your tongue as far into her mouth as you can. Tickle her tonsils.

I gently pulled back and then pushed in again. More shudders from Sis. If I just took it easy, I might last more than a few seconds. And I did. And then back in. And after a couple minutes of this I was met with another set of spasms as Sis had her second orgasm. And by going very slow I prolonged my pre-cum to about ten or fifteen minutes. There was no way of prolonging it further. Knowing I was about to erupt, I began pumping as quickly and as hard as I could. Sandy seemed to be in a continuous orgasm, shaking, shuddering, digging her nails into me, spasming in her vagina. And then I came. It seemed as if I were draining out my insides, pouring semen into her vagina. And Sandy kept shuddering, digging nails into me, biting me, her vagina undulating with spasms. I felt as if she were in another world, but I was getting all the benefit. It all turned my feelings on to white heat. I grabbed her, bit her, kissed her, pulled her hair, and finally came to my senses. Then I became infinitely gentle.

Finally we were both done. I nestled my head against her right breast as she lay a limp arm on me. After a few minutes I took her into my arms, and she fell asleep. In that position I fell asleep too.

The next morning was a Saturday, and I awoke to find myself in my usual spoon position behind her, except that this time we were both naked. One of my hands was on her belly, the other on one of her breasts. And as she awoke, she instinctively grabbed my hands with hers and pressed them to her. I wanted it to never end, but our bladders had different ideas. We both needed to get to the bathroom quickly, and this was the first time I just stood there looking at her as she peed. Then, when it was my turn, she held my penis and made figure 8’s in the toilet with my urine stream. It was our first time but it seemed we had been doing this all our lives.

After breakfast, eaten in the nude, it was into the shower together. That’s where we started to talk. I said, “How can sex be that good?”

She answered, “I’ve had eight guys, some more fun than the others. None of them ever felt like this. I can’t even explain how this feels.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess sleeping together all these years did it.”

“More than that, Gary. When I got out of my horrible marriage, you were eleven, and you actually knew enough to give me a back rub once in a while. And at nights you snuggled up to me. You didn’t snuggle up for you. You were keeping me company, like you knew how totally lonely I was. And you never asked for any favors in return. I needed it. You didn’t mind doing it. I’ve learned that I can trust you. So I just let myself be me last night. And the way you push your penis in…” Her eyes rolled.

“Sis, you’ve done just about everything for me. Made my meals. Bought my clothes. Stayed with me when I was sick.”

“Mom needed it from me.”

Then I said something that was on my mind, that was not yet said. “Sis, unless you throw me away I’m your husband. Forever. Yesterday convinced me. Maybe not able to get married, but the same as a husband. Whatever you need, I’ll do it for you. I love everything about you. I feel like I’m just a kid. I wouldn’t know what to do if you suddenly disappeared. The last couple of days you have–” I searched for words to express how I felt. “You’ve completed me. Like you put stuff in place that I need and didn’t have.”

“I lucked out.” She cried.

We spent most of the day in bed, and I learned as much about every position she liked and every way she liked being caressed and kissed as I could. I knew a lot about pleasuring her by the time our folks returned from vacation. At night we kept the door to our bedroom shut and learned quickly to make love without making noise, and we continued our sexual relationship.

By the time I graduated from high school our folks had figured out that I had done things for Sandy while they were on vacation that somehow got her straightened out. She had come back from her marriage with Nick a total mess. She was a new person after their month-long vacation. They knew that little brother had lifted her spirits and they approved.

When I went to college in another city Sandy and I took an apartment together. The folks figured it was a brother-sister relationship. We never gave them cause to think otherwise. The most important thing to them was the fact that I seemed to perk her up, to undo the damage that Nick had done.

After I finished college we moved to California, and there, we adopted two minority kids. Sandy is in college now, working toward a teaching credential. We give our adopted kids whatever it takes to make them happy without spoiling them, and they are A students. They know enough to stay out of our room nights. That is our private time. We go at it every night of the week. I’m crazy in love with my sister and she is crazy in love with me.

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