Unspoken Pleasure by Erotica

Brother & Sister Pleasure: Ep2

Lucy's hardwood floors felt even better than my carpet. We were facing each other again. Hearing my sister's gulping breaths, feeling her body tremble nearby, all of it conspired to take my experience from a solid 7 to a tremendous 10. Moments later, I was shooting hot seed into my shorts.

"You go?" Lucy asked. She looked about to hit the precipice, herself. Her cheeks were pinker than her shirt.

"Yeah."

"Ahhhhhhh," Lucy was overtaken by her own orgasm. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. "Fuck that's nice."

Lucy picked up her head and met my eyes. Her look was dreamy, distant. Yet there was something focused beneath the surface. Like she was making a decision.

We shared a goofy grin.

"That's it for you?" Lucy asked.

"Pretty much," I said. I had no doubt I could squeeze another orgasm out of myself. But the rubbing took a lot out of me. Something about it was so much more taxing than the usual stroking off. "Well, OK," Lucy said, "I'll see you in the morning."

I knew, right then, that she wasn't making the usual, trite statement. It was an appointment.

A promise.

*

Sometimes it takes a while to settle into a new habit. Retraining your body, your mind, to incorporate a different routine. That was not the case for Lucy and me. We were barely past our first day of this and already our fresh tradition felt expected. As if we'd been doing it our entire lives and would continue to do so forever more.

Lucy called it pressing and so that's how I came to think of our activity. It wasn't always at the same time or even every day, but we managed to have regular regroups. One morning we might wake up, press together, and get ready for the day. Or after lunch, we'd have an afternoon press in between doing chores or playing games or whatever. And if we missed both of those (or were having a particularly 'active' day) we'd go for a press after dinner, right before bed.

We always wore clothes when we did it -- Lucy with some sort of shirt and panties, me in my t-shirt and shorts. We met up, pressed, and went back to our lives. Like all of this was happening

also nearly our downfall. Three times, with three separate people, we

first was my fault. It happened a little over a week after we'd started our escapades. The family had finished dinner and was watching TV. It was one of those rare evenings when

her chin. That was all I needed to know. I gave her

It was on.

feeling tired and went to her bedroom. I waited what felt like a good

lying on her pillow. She gave me a big, goofy grin as I lay down next to her. The process of this had made me start to chub up, but I'd learned to (literally) push through such things. We

a little gasp as she hit the right spot. Or I would grunt with the exertion of the act. Sometimes we'd accidentally bump each other -- arms or legs, never anything more. It was strangely reassuring, an encouragement of the illicit actions we were

you guys

my head to the source of the sound. Our younger sister, Lindsay, was standing in the doorway. In my haste, I'd forgotten to

mine) that hung almost to her waist. She was wearing her usual workout outfit -- a tanktop and yoga pants. She eyed us, confused, like someone searching for an obvious word but unable to find

said, like this was a perfectly satisfying answer. She didn't even get off the pillow. Just spun around and stared up at

that. Instead, she stayed at the door, narrowing her eyes like she was

the panic rising in

This was a particularly bad lie, since we were doing nothing that

just far too trusting. The kind of girl who couldn't understand that

with our good luck. I got off the floor, gently closed

a week or so later, and she found me watching TV in the living room. She was wearing a white t-shirt with a pink Tom Nook on it, as well as a

signal and I got off the couch. But instead of leading me back to her bedroom, Lucy shook

said. That one word was shocking, for all that it implied. I glanced around the room. Right out in the open? We were sure to be

doing errands or whatever." She grabbed a pillow off the couch -- blue, small, and squarish -- and dropped it on the

"Are you sure?"

gave me a chastising look. You'd think that would be hard based on how she was lying on her groin, getting ready to fuck the hell out of that poor cushion. But, somehow, my older sister still

a sort of numbness to the routine of it all. Doing it in another place -- a room