I Need to Process This

This is the fourth and final part of this story, so it would probably be more easily understood if you read Chapters 1, 2, and 3 before tackling this part. I’d like to thank everyone for the votes and comments on the previous three chapters. It would be great if you could comment and vote on this part, and on the overall story. I would particularly like to thank cageysea9725 for all of his advice and encouragement in completing this part.

I must have sat for a couple of hours thinking about me and Mel, about our past, about our future — not that we really had one now. But eventually I stirred myself, got showered and dressed, and finished off sorting out the house. I was all done within a couple of hours. I called to arrange for the cleaning firm to come in on Thursday morning to give the house the once-over, then I took my bedlinen and Mel’s to the laundry. I was now at a loss because everything had been done, so I rang Jim to see what was happening with the business, and to ask if he needed any help.

I don’t think Jim really needed my help. He’s not a nerd for nothing, and had doubtless already planned what needed to be done in my absence that week. But he took pity on me and asked me to come and help with some final testing on a new game that we were launching in a few weeks. That’s the advantage of being in a long-term business partnership: Jim might be a nerd, but he knew me better than anyone.

Before I left, I booked a room for myself at the Midland Hotel for Thursday and Friday nights. It’s a big Victorian railway hotel in the town centre, not far from the solicitor’s office, and within walking distance of the restaurant where the after-funeral buffet would be held on Friday. The Midland was old fashioned, but I didn’t want to stay at the Lodge and risk bumping into Mel all the time.

By mid-afternoon, I was on my way back to Manchester. The drive up there was one of the most depressing experiences of my life. I’d never been in love before, but I was in love now, and I didn’t care that it was with my sister. However, after the previous 24 hours it was clear that Mel didn’t love me. I don’t really think she hated me, but she wanted nothing more to do with me and it would not surprise me if, after Mum’s funeral, I never saw her again.

That thought made me cry.

I stayed in Manchester until Thursday morning, and although it was good being back at work and chewing things over with Jim, I felt very sad and lonely, especially in the evenings, and even more so when I got into bed. I didn’t hear from Mel — not that I expected to – and I resisted any temptation to call her. But I did think about her all the time.

I didn’t conjure up sexual fantasies about her when I was in bed. Somehow, wanking at the thought of my naked sister seemed all wrong now. All I had left were my memories, and the torture of knowing that I had done the one thing I promised never to do. I thought about last Sunday, and time after time went over what had happened. All I could think is that I (we?) had had too much to drink over brunch, and somehow we had started fucking in our sleep.

No, I know it doesn’t sound very convincing, but it’s all I had.

During the week, I made up my mind that somehow I had to talk to Mel about it, to explain — as far as I could – and to apologise. I was pretty much convinced she would never want to see me again after the funeral, but for my own sake I had to try to say sorry — even if I failed miserably.

I left my apartment in plenty of time on Thursday, but the drive back took much longer than I anticipated, and I didn’t get to the solicitor’s offices until just before two. Mel was already there — she’s always early – in his waiting room, and there was a moment of awkwardness as we met for the first time since she’d angrily walked out on Monday.

She handled it perfectly (am I surprised?) by taking a step towards me and kissing me on the cheek. “Hello, Davie. How are you? I was worried you might not make it.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry I’m late — there was a lot of traffic on the M6.” She looked puzzled, so I explained: “I went to Manchester for a few days, sort some stuff out at work.”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. “Good thought. With your partner Jim?”

A slightly awkward silence followed, but we were rescued a few seconds later by the solicitor’s receptionist saying that Barrett was ready for us. The conference table seemed laden with paperwork, all neatly arranged, and Mel and I sat opposite each other, with Barrett at the head and his paralegal taking notes at the other end. All very formal.

Our mother had been very diligent in managing her investments, and she had shares in upwards of fifty different businesses, all neatly itemised. Her will was also a model of efficiency: aside from a few personal bequests (notably £10K to her friend Billy), everything was to be split equally between Mel and me.

Even so, the whole process took almost three hours, because every investment had to be identified, talked about, forms signed, photocopied and distributed to both Mel and me. When we got to the end, the solicitor said that the value of the estate, taking a conservative valuation for the house, would be approximately two million pounds, although there would be a big chunk of inheritance tax to pay on that.

Barrett said that he would let us have a detailed calculation once he’d finished negotiating with the taxman, which might take some months (I bet it would). In the meantime, Mel and I agreed with him that things should be left pretty much as they were for the moment. Personally, I thought it was going to take a while for me to absorb the fact that I was going to be quite wealthy. After handshakes all round, Mel and I left.

I hadn’t really looked at Mel during the meeting, other than to nod or shake my head, and I felt awkward as we left the solicitor’s office.

“Do you have any plans?” she asked as we walked out into the street.

I looked at my watch and said “I want to go to the laundry and pick up the sheets and stuff. Then have a look at the house, check on whether the cleaning company did their job.”

“Ah OK.” Mel paused, then asked, rather uncertainly, “Can I come?”

“Of course,” I said. “Why not?” Mel looked as if she was going to cry, and I suppose I did sound a bit snappy. When would we ever get it right between us? I tried to smile and said, “Sorry, Mel. Of course you can come. It is your house too.”

Mel told me she’d come up by train, so we went to the house in my car, travelling largely in silence. Fortunately, the laundry was open and I got the sheets.

Mel asked if I was staying at the house and I told her about the hotel. “Ah, OK,” she said. There was an awkward pause before she continued, “Um, I’m staying at the Midland as well. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me, but I can see it might be for you.” I paused, then nodded. “I’ll go to the Lodge.”

“No, no, please not on my behalf. You’d hate the Lodge — there’s nothing, no bar, no restaurant. And a rubbish buffet for breakfast.”

“Really? Sounds crap. OK, the Midland it is, if you’re sure.” I paused again… now I was uncertain. I was about to say something about staying out of her way, but instead I said, “Maybe we could have dinner tonight?”

Her face lit up and she smiled. “I’d really like that. Yes, let’s have dinner.” It almost sounded as if she meant it.

The house looked fine, so we went to the hotel. Mel had already checked in, and while I was sorting my room out, she went off to freshen up. We agreed to meet again at 7:30. I wasn’t really looking forward to it, but there might possibly be a chance to talk about what had happened on Sunday. Or at least, a chance for me to apologise.

In the event, dinner was a really pleasant experience. We walked to the Italian place where I’d first told Mel I fancied her. It seemed like years ago, but it was less than a couple of weeks. So much had happened in that time, mostly good but ultimately catastrophically bad.

Surprisingly, our conversation over the meal was very easy. We chatted about the will, how clever our Mum had been and what we might do with the house, about the funeral the next day and how we both wanted it to be a celebration more than a wake. It was lovely, but I felt we were both treading carefully to avoid waking the elephant in the room — a different one from the beast we’d disturbed the previous time we’d been in this restaurant, and an altogether bigger presence.

As we waited for the bill at the end of the meal, Mel smiled nervously at me. “This is nice,” she said. She looked tired, and for the first time I noticed the dark rings under her eyes. Maybe I’d not looked at her properly? And she looked achingly beautiful. “I was worried that we might not be good friends any more, you know?”

I resisted the temptation to reach over and kiss her. “I hope we’ll always be good friends, Mel,” I said quietly.

I had a last sip of my wine, and decided to give it a go. “Can we talk about last Sunday, please? It’s just that-”

She held up her hand and shook her head. “No please. Not now, Davie. Maybe tomorrow, after the funeral. I can’t handle it at the moment.” At which point the waiter arrived with the bill: perfect timing as always.

I settled the bill, and we left the restaurant. Outside, Mel slid her arm through mine, which felt so good, and said “Sorry, Davie. Please understand. I need to keep it together, for Mum’s sake. Let’s be friends. Please? I hope we’ll always be good friends as well, Davie.”

She gave my arm a quick squeeze and I felt the fullness of her breast against me. I immediately banished the inevitable thought.

“Like I said, I want us to be friends always, Mel. That’s why I wanted to talk. But we’ll leave it over there, until another time.”

She gave my arm another squeeze and smiled her thanks.

“So,” I continued. “What happened with the divorce lawyer? Or maybe you don’t want to talk about it? No problem if you don’t, of course.”

She paused before replying. “It was awful, to be honest. I’m not good at hating.” She explained that the lawyer had said Mel had to blank out any sympathy for Doug, and that every time she thought of him or heard his name, she had to think how much she hated him. That was apparently the way to get the best financial settlement. No pity.

“I can’t do that, Davie. We were together for nearly 16 years, married for more than 12. We did things together. It’s not his fault it fell apart, any more than it’s mine. I just want a fair share, but if that means hating Doug, I don’t think I can do it. I can’t do it.”

I shook my head slowly and said with a smile, “You’re an amazing woman, Mel. I do like you.” She smiled back, and squeezed my arm again. Again, I felt her breast. Bloody hell!

“So how did you leave it? With the lawyer woman?”

“She’s going to keep it very simple, nothing over-the-top, and wait to see what Doug’s lawyer comes up with. I suggested that Doug and I have a get-together to talk about it, but she was dead against that. No meetings alone, she said. Probably worried that I might call the divorce off, though there’s no chance of that. Anyway, I just sit and wait — she said she’d get back to me next week.”

“It’s unpleasant, but has to be done,” I said. “Personally, I’d like to kick his fucking head in, but that might be slightly counterproductive. Satisfying though.”

“Bad boy, Davie,” Mel said with a smile. We arrived at the hotel, and stood awkwardly together in the lobby.

“Would you, er, would you like a nightcap?” I asked, nodding in the direction of the bar.

She looked at me, giving it a moment’s thought before saying, “No Davie, thanks, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow? I’m off to bed.” She reached forward, hugged me closely, and kissed me gently on the cheek. “You’re a lovely man, Davie. Thanks for being kind. Breakfast at eight?”

With that she was off, striding down the corridor in the direction of her room.

I was left, yet again, with the memory of her soft breasts pressed against my arm… but overlaid with the mental image of the elephant.

I climbed into bed feeling a bit happier about our relationship, although I knew that we’d never get back to where we’d been a week or so before. That was gone forever. Thankfully, though, I slept soundly, and woke feeling rested and ready for the day. Or as ready as I would ever be.

The funeral was at 11:30, so I had plenty of time. After a quick shower, I strolled down to the high-ceilinged restaurant. Mel was already there, sitting at a corner table, and she gave me a sad smile as I joined her. We dawdled over breakfast, the room full of the buzz of business people arranging their respective days. We talked about saying goodbye to our mother, and a sadness hung in the air, despite our wishes to make this a day of celebration.

I went back to my room, shaved, then showered again, and got dressed in my funeral outfit. Mel and I had agreed that there were to be no black ties or drab suits, and no long faces, so I wore a dark-red jacket and blue trousers, with a bright patterned tie. I probably looked like a circus clown, but I didn’t mind: Mum would have liked it. I went down to the lobby to wait for Mel. She arrived about ten minutes later looking amazing in a dark-green dress with a full skirt.

The funeral was just as Mum would have wanted it, with a packed crematorium, a minimum of pomp, no cant, and lots of smiles. Mel had asked me to give a speech — “You were so good at my wedding,” she smiled — so I did. Again, though I say so myself, I was pretty good at it, although at times I had difficulty in holding it together.

Afterwards at the restaurant there were a few tears but lots of smiles, and endless people to talk to. Mel and I split the room, circulating and making sure that we spoke to everyone, occasionally coming together to have a sip of wine and compare notes. Eventually people started to drift away, although, as is the way with these things, there were a few who stayed to the bitter end. One was Mum’s friend Billy, who was absolutely distraught. With Mum’s death, he’d lost a real friend, and I’m not sure how many of them he had.

Eventually even Billy left, and Mel and I strolled back to the hotel. It was only 4:30 but we were both tired, so we decided to retire to our respective rooms, have a rest, and meet up for dinner at 8:00.

I went back to my room, where I undressed and had another shower. As I got into bed, I closed my eyes and immediately thought of Mel. I could picture her rising above me, naked, with those heavy breasts swinging in my face. I groaned, shook my head and tried to drive the image away, but I was rock hard within seconds.

She was so fucking beautiful, my sister, and I could taste her pussy in my mouth, feel her hard nipples, see her lovely face. I stroked myself gently, slowly, imagining her sucking me, licking me. Quickly I felt myself approaching release and pulled back, prolonging the delicious agony, but I couldn’t do so for long and hot cum splashed onto my belly.

As I cleaned myself up, waves of guilt washed over me. I had to stop thinking of Mel like that. It was over, and I needed to get back to thinking of her just as my beautiful, kind and rather sad sister. It was going to be an effort, but I’d have to try. “I just have to try,” I thought, as I closed my heavy eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke with a start to the sound of my phone ringing, and realised that it was ten past eight. Fuck! I’d forgotten to set my alarm. I answered the phone and Mel said, “Hello. Did you forget we were supposed to be having dinner?”

“I’m sorry, Mel. Give me five minutes.” I rang off and quickly got dressed in clean clothes, kicking my funeral outfit over to one side to be sorted out later. She had sounded a bit pissed-off, which was understandable, and I hoped our evening would not be ruined. She didn’t look very happy when I got down to the hotel lobby, although she was polite enough. She also looked utterly beautiful, dressed in a white shirt and tailored blue jeans.

After a bit of discussion, we decided to head off to the same Italian restaurant, simply because we knew it. Mel was very quiet, and she didn’t link arms, both of which were worrying. It didn’t promise well for a nice evening together.

The restaurant was crowded, it being Friday night, and the corner table where we usually sat was already occupied. We were offered a couple of other tables that Mel didn’t like before they eventually found us a spot just outside the kitchen and rammed up against a cupboard. Not my preference, but Mel said, “At least we won’t be surrounded,” which had the merit of truth.

Once we’d ordered, I tried to make small talk with Mel about the funeral, the buffet, the people who had been at the funeral, the Crematorium, the buffet (again)… nothing but one-word replies. It was probably the most painful and difficult time I had spent with her in the past couple of weeks — even including last Monday morning, when she did at least talk to me. Well, at me.

Eventually I gave up trying. In any case, the noise from elsewhere in the restaurant didn’t make for intimate conversation, and I was grateful when Mel said she didn’t want dessert or coffee.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel,” she said. “Maybe we can have a drink there.”

“That sounds like fun,” I thought. However, we still had more than half a bottle of wine left, so I refitted the cap and took it with us – waste not want not, as Mum would have said.

The conversation on the way back to the hotel was stilted, almost non-existent, but at least walking along and avoiding the Friday night drunks took my mind off whatever was bothering Mel. The thought did cross my mind that I might never find out what that was — surely it wasn’t just me oversleeping or forgetting to set my alarm? And as for me apologising, it didn’t look like that was going to happen either.

When we got back to the hotel, the bar was literally full to overflowing, with people spilling out into the foyer area, all talking in loud voices. Mel turned to me and shook her head, saying “Sorry, I can’t stand that. Shall we go to your room and have a drink there?”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I agreed that it would be better than the bar. When we got to my door, I opened it and let Mel walk past me into the room, where she simply stood alongside the unmade bed. I apologised for the state of the room and said, “Why don’t you sit down, Mel. Wine OK?”

She nodded and sat awkwardly on the corner of the bed. I half-filled two glasses with wine, handing one to her. She nodded again.

I sat down on a small and uncomfortable chair facing Mel and said quietly, “Are we going to talk about it, Mel?” She looked at me, took a sip of wine, but didn’t say anything.

I said, “When we talked about you and Doug and all that, we said we’d always be there for each other?” I made it a question, and she nodded and looked down at her wine. “We said we’d always talk. Well, we need to talk about this.”

“It’s last Sunday,” she said. “I want to talk about last Sunday. And last week.”

“Good, because I need to apologise–”

“No!” she said sharply, holding up a hand, but not looking at me. “I need to talk. I need to apologise. It’s all my fault.” She suddenly burst into tears, holding her glass of wine between her hands and sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh shit, shit, shit!” she said. “Why do I have to cry? I don’t want to cry. Shit!”

I leaned forward and lifted the glass of wine from her hands, and put it on the dressing table. I sat down at her side and said, “Come on, Mel. It’s OK. Why do you think any of this is your fault? Because it isn’t.”

She shook her head and pulled away from me, saying in an overloud voice, “It is my fault!” She looked up at me, tears running down her face, and said it again, almost whispering: “It’s all my fault.”

I started to speak but she put her hand gently over my mouth. “No, Davie, please let me speak.”

She looked searchingly into my face, so I took hold of her hand, kissed it, and said, “OK, darling. You speak. How is it all your fault?”

She held my hand in both of hers and spoke in a very quiet voice. “I told you, when we started, you know, messing about, I told you that it felt good to have someone find me attractive. Made me feel sexy. I’ve not felt like that for a long time, not for years. Nobody ever said I turned them on. I was just part of the furniture. You made me feel good about myself, and I liked it.”

She let go of my hands and with the backs if her hands she wiped away the tears streaming down her face before looking at me. “I thought at first it was just going to be a bit of fun, a nice way for us to get over our childhood, to be close. Be friends.”

She gave a shuddering sob before continuing, “I thought we could do that, but it just got more and more… like it took on a life of its own. And I loved it, everything, all of it. I loved making you cum, I loved sucking you, and I loved it even more when you made me cum. Honestly, Davie, when you, you know, kissed me down there, it gave me feelings that I’d never had before… ever.”

I picked up her hand and kissed it again. “If it’s any consolation Mel, it gave me feelings I’d never had either.”

“Yeah, well.” She paused, then looked at me. “Even then I thought I was still in control. But last Sunday when you were, you know, inside me and we were, you know, fucking, I felt I’d completely lost control of everything… I was scared. And I was ashamed. Ashamed because I liked it… liked feeling you there, inside me, filling me. That’s why I shouted at you and blamed you and hit you. I blamed you for everything. I always blame you, Davie. And I know I hurt you, like I always have. I’m so sorry, so ashamed.”

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing her heart out and shaking her head. “Why do I always blame you, Davie? Why do I always hurt you? You’re so kind to me and nice and lovely, and I always hurt you. Oh Davie, what am I going to do?”

I pulled her into my shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “No need to do anything, darling Mel.” I paused for a moment. “Well, you could stop talking bullshit. But apart from that”

She tensed against me and looked up.

“And no need to look at me like that, big sister,” I continued. “I think you are amazing, wonderful, clever and all that good stuff. But saying that everything that happened between us was all down to you is, well, like I said, it’s bullshit.”

She pulled away, shaking her head, and I pulled her back to me, speaking intently. “Listen, Mel, here’s the deal. All this started in that Italian restaurant, the first time, when I told you I got a boner when I hugged you in the kitchen at Mum’s house. Christ knows why I said it. Maybe because you’d asked if I was gay. And then I told you how I thought about you whenever I had a wank. If I’d kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened. None of it. I’m glad I did tell you though, and I’m glad about everything that’s happened since, apart from, well, being inside you last Sunday. But it’s absolutely not your fault. OK?”

She shook her head. “But I told you, I liked what you said about, you know, wanking, and I liked it that you found me sexy. I shouldn’t have done that, because you’re my brother and I’m your sister. I liked what we did, and I led the way. And now I can’t stop thinking about it, about you. I need to process it but I can’t. I want us to go back to how we were last week and doing what we did then. And it’s so wrong.”

She buried her head on my shoulder, and I pulled her close. She was still sobbing, and between gulps of breath she said, “You’re my brother, and it’s incest and we both know it is, but I can’t stop thinking about you that way.”

She sat up and wiped her face with both hands, smearing great streaks of mascara over her cheeks. “Please, can we go to bed together? Now? Please?”

For a moment I couldn’t speak.

“Yeah. Well. Yeah, of course we can. If you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Davie, really sure. It’s all I’ve thought about this week, all I’ve thought about yesterday and today. All week, ever since last Sunday, I can’t stop thinking about you being inside me.” She shook her head as if to banish the thought. “I even thought about it when you were making your speech this afternoon at the funeral.”

I laughed at that, but she grabbed my hand and looked at me imploringly. “Please. I mean it, Davie. Please, don’t laugh. I want you to fuck me. I do. I want you inside me, just this once. I know I said no fucking, but I can’t stop thinking about it, about you being inside me, and how good it felt, and I want it again. Just once. Please? Please fuck me. Then I’ll go back to my room, OK? Just fuck me once is all I want… then I’ll go.”

Her face was wrecked, black blotches all over her face, eyes red with crying. I put my hand up and gently stroked the side of her head.

“No, my darling Mel, I promised I wouldn’t fuck you, and I meant it.” She shook her head and more tears came. I smiled and said quietly, “But I would like to make love to you, if you’ll let me. I really do want to do that.”

I stood and held out my hand. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

We stood facing one another, and I took her face gently in my hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “But the rules are still the same, Mel. Your pace. If you want me to stop, I will. OK? Just say the word.”

She nodded. “I need to have a shower,” she said quietly.

“OK, I’ll have one after you.”

She looked down at the floor and almost whispered, “We can take a shower together if you’d like. Would you? I’d like it if you would.”

I took her in my arms and kissed her again, then started to undress her. It felt almost like a religious ritual, an act of worship, as I lifted her shirt over her head and slowly undid her jeans. Unspeaking, she nodded and undid my shirt, pulling it over my shoulders and stroking my chest with a slight, wide-eyed smile on her face, almost as if it were the first time she had seen me like that.

I rolled her jeans down and knelt to pull them over her feet, taking her shoes and socks with them. My heart was beating like a jackhammer. I kissed her pussy through her pure white panties before sliding them down, but as I did so Mel put her hands on my head and urged me to stand.

She pulled my face towards hers and kissed me deeply as she unzipped my fly and slid her hand into my jeans. The touch of her soft hands was electric as she pushed down my jeans and then my shorts. At the same time, I reached behind her and undid her white bra, releasing her lovely full breasts into my hands. She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to breathe and I bent to kiss her hard, pink nipples.

I was completely naked now, and Mel gripped my cock, firmly but softly, closing her eyes and shuddering slightly. “I thought I would never hold you again, Davie,” she said. “I love your hardness.”

Suddenly, she dropped to her knees and slid my cock in her mouth. I looked down, and the sight of my naked sister sucking me was almost unbearable. Her head moved slowly, and she looked up at me, murmuring quietly. Almost immediately I felt myself coming to a climax and pulled her away from me.

“Mel, baby, please stop. I’m going to shoot in a minute and I don’t want to do that. Not yet.” I picked her up to her feet, and again kissed her before taking her by the hand and walking with her into the bathroom with its big walk-in shower.

We stood close as the warm water tumbled over us, and Mel reached for the shower cream, pumping it into her hands and lathering it first onto my chest and then my back. I took the bottle from Mel and repeated the process on her, sliding my hands over her breasts and her stomach, then round to her back and her firm, muscular buttocks.

She grabbed the bottle in turn and soaped my cock and my balls, then between my legs while I washed her pussy and thighs. Everything was slow, gentle, loving and incredibly erotic. I could scarcely breathe with excitement at the thought I was going to make love to my darling sister. I gently cleaned Mel’s face of the mascara streaks then pulled her to me and kissed her. She ran her hands over me and over herself, rinsing off the foam until we were both clean. Mel gave her shy smile and nodded. I nodded back, turning off the water.

One of the great things about old-fashioned hotels like the Midland is that they have really big, fluffy towels, and I wrapped Mel and me in one of them, holding our wet bodies close as I did. Gently and with infinite care, we dried each other, then walked back into the bedroom, hand-in-hand.

As we stood next to the bed, I held her close and, to be sure, asked again if she was OK. Her answer was to put her arms round my neck and pull my face down to hers down, kissing me passionately and running her hands down to my cock.

Again, I held her hand to stop her from doing too much — I really was very close — and I eased her gently onto the bed, kissing her all the while, then moved slowly down her body. She smelled lovely, as she always did, and I breathed in deeply. She moved her legs wide apart and I slid my tongue down there, spreading her pussy lips and nibbling her clitoris as she moaned quietly. I thought I’d never do that again either, and coming back to her felt utterly wonderful.

I went down further, kissing the insides of her thighs, then moved up, stopping again between her legs, then pushing her thighs higher so that I could fully reach her pussy. I brought up my right hand, opened her labia with my fingers, and slipped in my tongue as far as it would go. With my left hand I stroked her belly and reached up to her breasts, tweaking the nipples between finger and thumb.

I had just enough awareness to think that this was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me, and I wondered when I would wake up and realise it was all a dream. Then Mel moved against me, urgently, reminding me that this was glorious reality. She was moaning softly, humming almost, stroking my head, and pushing her pussy against my mouth.

Suddenly, without warning, she climaxed, her belly going into a spasm, her whole body shaking as her legs shot out straight and she clenched my head between her thighs. Slowly, very slowly, she subsided, and I gently licked her still-hard clitoris, causing her to quiver repeatedly.

I worked my way back up her body. I loved the fact that I was becoming familiar with all of her shapes and hollows, her gently rounded stomach, the flatness between her breasts, her pink nipples. I took my time, but eventually I reached her lovely face. She had a slightly glazed smile on her face.

“You make me feel wonderful, Davie.”

“You are wonderful, Mel.”

She opened her legs and moved against me. My cock was hard as a rock, and I could feel the head of it pressing against her hot, wet pussy. I kissed her gently.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She looked at me and nodded. “Yes, Davie, I’m sure. I’m scared, a bit, and I know it’s crossing a line. But I’m excited as well, and I want you inside me. Please.”

“OK, but like I said, if you want me to stop at any time, just say so. Yes?”

She reached up and pulled my face to hers, then kissed me delicately on the lips. “Thanks, Davie, but it’s good. It feels so good. It feels right.”

She moved slightly and so did I, and the head of my cock slid into her, so slowly and oh so-very-gently.

She gasped slightly, so I stopped and said, “Sorry darling. Did it hurt?”

Mel smiled and shook her head. “No, darling Davie. It’s lovely. Just that it’s been a while. A long time. Years.” She gave a happy, gurgling laugh. “Apart from last Sunday, and that doesn’t count, does it? It’s lovely,” she repeated. “Please don’t stop.”

She was hot and wet and soft, but tight, and I pushed myself forward slightly, watching her face. Her eyes were glazed, her lips parted, her tongue flicking in and out. Then she moved some more, closing her eyes and pulling me further into her. She whimpered quietly, shook her head, and pushed down hard. I was deep inside her now, her heat and soft wetness gripping my cock, and I started moving rhythmically.

Our movements synchronised as she lifted her belly up against mine and wrapped her legs round me. I held myself up on straight arms so that I could look down on her. She was now staring up at me, nodding, her jaws clenched together, her hands clasped on my upper arms.

I’m not sure how long it lasted, but slowly I felt her building to another climax, her whole body shuddering and quaking. I moved faster, and just as I felt my own orgasm coming, she erupted like a volcano, grinding her pussy hard against my pelvic bone. Almost immediately I shot my load of cum into her as she pulled my face down, kissing and licking me, shaking her head and almost growling in ecstasy.

I nearly lost her, but I held on tight and stayed inside her as we both enjoyed the slowly subsiding after-shocks. Eventually we slowed to a stop, and I kissed Mel gently on the lips. As I slipped out of her, I told her that I loved her. She smiled up at me.

“I know you do. I love you too, Davie,” she said, slightly panting. “I know it’s wrong, but you make me feel wonderful.”

I eased myself down alongside her and kissed her again. “You make me feel wonderful as well,” I said. “That was absolutely beautiful.”

“Mmm, it was. And you’re right — making love is much better than fucking. Even if it was incest with my lovely brother.” She stroked my face and whispered, “I feel lovely and sleepy. Do you mind that I’m sleepy? I’ve not been sleeping too well.” She paused and frowned slightly. “Can I stay here tonight, with you? Please?”

I kissed her and said with a smile, “I think that might just be possible. I do love you. Let’s adopt the spoony position!” I turned away from her and she wrapped her arms around me.

I felt the weight of her breasts on my back and her thighs against mine as she kissed me between my shoulders, just like before. “Much better than fucking,” she murmured. “I feel completely loved-up.” Almost immediately she drifted off to sleep, as her breathing grew deeper, and her arms became heavier.

It felt wonderful lying there, feeling my beautiful sister’s body against mine, but I had my mind set on the future. Whatever else happened, I could not, would not, let her go, not now, not ever — we’d come too far.

I’d talk to her in the morning about staying on another night, but it was the long term that bothered me. OK, so we only lived a couple of hundred miles apart, but I didn’t think either of us would relish a four-hour journey to meet up. We had the house, of course, but even that was a hack. Better than nothing though.

I started to drift off to sleep, thinking about spending every weekend at the house, and it was a lovely thought: domestic bliss, going to bed together, waking up together, making love, sharing good times. Then I realised that I knew what we had to do. I almost woke Mel up to talk to her about it, but she was so warm against me that I decided to talk to her in the morning. We had time. We had all the time in the world. And we had each other.

I woke early with an overfull bladder, bursting for a pee. I lay there for a while, listening to the sound of Mel’s breathing. It was slow, rhythmic and deep, and I guessed that she was still out of it. I slid quietly out of bed and quickly went to the bathroom to relieve myself. There’s nothing quite like having a piss when your bladder is full, is there?

I quickly washed myself in the shower, brushed my teeth, dried off and sneaked back into bed. Mel was in the same position as I slid in alongside her, but she opened her eyes as soon as I lay down. She pulled the sheet up under her chin in a way that I was becoming familiar with, and grinned at me.

“You’ve got a lovely bum, Davie. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

I leaned forward and kissed her. “Not until now,” I said with a smile.

She returned my kiss then reached up and put her hand over my eyes. “I need a pee as well, but no peeking. Promise?”

“Oh, definitely no peeking Mel. Promise.”

She slid out of bed and scampered to the bathroom. As she did so, I said, “You’ve got a lovely bum as well.”

I listened, smiling, to the sounds of her peeing then taking a shower, then cleaning her teeth.

She came quickly back to bed, and as she did so she said, “You were watching. You bad lad.” She smiled and kissed me. “I love it when you look at my bum.”

“Are you happy?” I asked. “You know, with where we are.”

“Mmm yes,” she said. “Very happy. Bit sad too, though.”

“Why sad?” I asked.

“Well, you know, in a few hours we’ll be checking out of the hotel and you’ll be heading north and me south. Just a bit sad. When will we see each other again?” The sheet was back under her chin as she asked, and she was frowning slightly.

“Ah, I had a thought about that. Do you have to go back today?”

“Erm, no, not really. No,” she said. “But don’t you?”

“No. I can go tomorrow, or on Monday morning even, as long as I get back by lunchtime. That will work for me. What about you? Can you stay?”

“That would be wonderful if we could,” she replied, so I grabbed the phone on the bedside table, rang reception and extended my booking. “So decisive,” Mel said with a smile. “I love that.”

We lay facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes and I felt myself getting hard against her. I returned her kisses, but as I moved to hold her, she pushed me away slightly, giving me a serious look. It was another of the mannerisms I was getting used to — and learning to love.

“You know, I don’t think anybody ever made love to me. Not really. Not before you. I mean, no-one has been inside me for years, not since my operation. But even before that, it was only fucking, I think. Nobody ever made me feel like you do, so alive, so loved.” She grinned. “Loved up. Tingling. Nobody really made love to me before. Ever.”

She had tears in her eyes, and I leaned forwards to kiss them away.

“Well, maybe we should do it again, just to make sure you still like it.”

I took her sweet face in my hands and kissed her gently. Her mouth opened and she gave one of her lovely moans and pushed her body against me. I kissed her neck, and her shoulder before reaching down for her hand and putting it to my lips.

“I love kissing you,” I murmured. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of doing that.”

She smiled happily and pulled my mouth to hers, pushing her tongue between my lips as she did. “I’m wet,” she whispered, then took hold of my cock and rubbed it against her pussy to prove the point. With a quick movement she moved on top of me, sitting astride me, and moving the head of my cock against her open pussy.

She closed her eyes and moaned. “That feels so good.” She smiled down at me. “Is it OK, me being on top?”

I nodded and moved against her. “Yes, of course. It feels wonderful, incredible. Heaven.”

She shifted position slightly and held my cock as she slowly slid down on me. Then she put both hands on my shoulders, arms straight and she arched her back slightly and moaned as I filled her. Gently she moved back and forth, rocking her hips against me, rubbing her pussy against my pelvic bone and moving my cock inside her. She kept her eyes on me with that serious look, almost as if watching to see if everything was OK. I returned her gaze and smiled, and she bent down to kiss me gently on the lips. “I love making love to you, little brother. I really do.”

All of my senses were focused on the feeling of my rock-hard cock inside her, and her wet warmth as she gripped me. I reached up to stroke her breasts, feasting my eyes, and she cupped my hands in hers, lifting her breasts up and arching her back. She threw her head back, shaking her waves of thick black hair. I took her nipples in the crook and forefinger of each hand and rubbed them gently as they got hard. Mel moaned with pleasure and squeezed my hands harder on her breasts.