Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

Betsy nodded, her face very serious. She reached down for the bottom of her sweatshirt. She pulled it off, revealing a light blue tee. Betsy took that off as well. I was reminded of the old kid's magician trick of revealing an endless rainbow of ribbons. How far down did all this go?

Finally, Betsy was down to just her bra. It was pink and lacy, nothing racy at all. A full cup that pretty much covered whatever chest my sister might have had. But what was revealed was more than exciting enough: my sister's surprisingly fit, flat tummy and the beginnings of curvy hips. I was beginning to realize that Betsy's body was something far more exciting than what I'd surmised based on her all-covering outfits.

"Hi," Betsy said, seeing me stare.

"Sorry," I said.

A cute little smirk snuck across Betsy's lips. "Let's get back to it, OK?"

I nodded.

The little break had not flagged my flagpole erection one bit. I was at full mast and ready, at any moment, for the big, final fireworks show.

Betsy licked her palm again and started stroking. I think she could sense that the end was near because she started working me with a confident abandon. Her movements almost wild as she worked me over.

All that stimulation -- the build of the last week, the makeout sessions, seeing Betsy nearly topless -- it all came to a head in five, quick strokes.

"Bets," I got out the warning just in time, "Gonna..."

My cock swelled. My balls leapt. A fountain of fertility rocketed out of my cock, filling me with ecstatic pleasure. I'm pretty sure I shouted as it went -- the release of endorphins, of my copious cum, overwhelming. As I writhed in pleasure, I distantly heard my sister cry out. "Oh! So hot."

The pleasure gripped me too hard for me to notice anything more. All I could feel was every successive burst of semen. Each a slightly lower peak than the last. Finally, it subsided, and I was able to look up at my sister.

She was sitting in the same position as before. Her eyes were distant. I could see my spend had truly spattered her. She was covered with my white stuff. But rather than be disgusted (as most of the girls I'd gone with would be), Betsy was running her hands through it, idly.

In fact, I realized, she was doing more than that. My sister was rubbing my sperm right into her bare skin. Like slathering on lotion. She lovingly spread my spend over her tummy, making sure every bit of it was sucked up.

"It's so warm," she said, repeating those words again and again. Like a kind of mantra. "I didn't know it would feel so warm."

"You OK?" I asked.

Betsy nodded, absently. "You?"

"Oh yes," I said. I hadn't meant it to come out like that, but it had. Fortunately, Betsy just giggled.

"I'm sorry," I said, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

"Don't you dare apologize," Betsy said, "This is awesome. I didn't realize your cum would be like this. It's like covering myself in liquid heat."

"98. 7 degrees, or thereabouts," I said.

"I'm so comfy now, I don't think we even need to kiss anymore," Betsy said.

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"Oh," I said. Unable to hide my disappointment. Did I love that handjob? Damn straight I did. But I felt like I was missing out if we skipped the kissing part.

"Don't worry," Betsy said, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek, "I'll need more warming up tomorrow."

My sister practically skipped out of my room, grabbing her sweatshirt on the way out. I had no trouble sleeping that night, that's for sure.

*

"It's not fair," Betsy said, slapping her thighs like a little girl who was just told she couldn't get ice cream.

We were both sitting on the couch. My parents were milling around the house, so we'd yet to initiate our evening activities. Instead, we gave each other little teasing touches underneath the blanket. Pokes to the side and strokes to the shoulders. Nothing untoward.

I'd put the TV on again, but neither of us even pretended to watch. Instead, we enjoyed each other's company. The way we played and flirted, it felt more like an evening with a girlfriend than a sibling. I was certainly fine with that. Betsy, however, was full of complaints. Despite her discovery from the previous night, she'd woken up as cold as always. And it really bothered her for some reason.

"In the moment, covered in your stuff. I mean, it felt better than any sweater I'd ever worn."

"Mom. Dad," I said, "In the kitchen."

"I want to feel that way all the time," Betsy continued, ignoring my warning. "And I don't think I can jerk you off every three hours. Can I?"

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As much as that thought seemed temtping in the moment, I knew my eyes were too big for my testicles. I'd be ready to die after three days of that, no doubt. "What if I, you know, returned the favor?" I asked.

I was very much interested in that idea, let me tell you. Just the idea of seeing my sister's parts was enticement enough. But getting to touch them, bring her to the same peak she'd brought me, that was an amazing thought. "Doesn't work," Betsy said. She gave me a wan smile. "Trust me, I've tried."

"We're going to bed, kids," Dad said, leading my mom up the stairs. They gave us a wave, like we were a normal pair of siblings having a regular evening instead of a couple waiting to make out like the horny kids we truly were. "I wonder if they're going to do it," Betsy mused.

"I try not to think about such things," I said, "It kind of ruins my interest in doing them, myself."

"Don't do that then," Betsy said, "I need your little soldier to be ready to go into battle as soon as possible."

"Little?!" I asked, pretending to be upset.

Betsy rolled her eyes at me. "Boys," she said. She took a deep breath. "Trust me, you're plenty big enough. I don't know how it compares but based on how I can barely get my fingers around it. I mean, that's a pretty good sign that I shouldn't be shoving it anywhere else."

"Probably not," I said.

Was I having fun with what we were doing? You bet. Was I still very much aware that it was with my sister? Also a stone cold lock. I knew there were lines that we shouldn't cross. So, all for the better that we agreed we weren't going there. "Speaking of which, up to your bedroom?" Betsy asked. I nodded, far too eagerly.