Crazy Sex Adventures(Erotica)

“Having the finish line feel so distant makes it hard to start,” Betsy said, “But you still have to begin.”

“I’ve tried,” I said, “Am trying. But right now, not so much. What about you? You’re cute and funny. Smart and se… I mean, you’re alright for a sister. So, are you choosing to be single or has the universe forced it on you?”

“Somewhere in between,” Betsy said.

The waitress came by and cleared our plates. I sat patiently and waited while that business was done so that my sister could explain herself.

“Unlike my brother, who is pretty great for a brother, most guys are only interested in one thing,” Betsy said.

“Icthyology,” I said, nodding empathetically.

Betsy tried not to laugh at my dad joke, but she did anyway. Then she glared at me for making her do it.

“In any case, I’m not ready for that yet,” Betsy said, “I’m not a prude. I’d like to do more stuff. But I need to cross the emotional bridge before I can get there, and most guys aren’t willing to take the time. So, I’m single by choice, in that the world is full of stupid boys who can’t be bothered to fill my heart before they stuff it in… Well, other places.”

“I’m sorry, Bets,” I said, meaning it.

“Sometimes I’m glad that I’m cold all the time,” Betsy said. She gestured at her outfit of sweats, more sweats, and then more sweats. “Wearing all of this? It’s like a suit of armor that keeps me protected and safe. Imagine if I walked around like her.”

Betsy pointed to a skinny blonde wearing an outfit that may as well have been two hand towels strapped to her body with rubber bands. I had to admit, while parts of me might have liked that look, my brain thought it looked pretty ridiculous.

“Maybe somewhere in between would be alright,” I said.

Betsy smiled at me, wistfully. “Maybe. If I was warm.”

After we paid the check, Betsy got up from her seat and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I drove back to the office, feeling so high that I could have walked the whole way. My feet wouldn’t have ever touched the ground.

*

Betsy practically tackled me into bed that night.

“Brrrrr,” she said, gripping onto me with surprising strength, “I think Dad turned the A/C up or something.”

She wasn’t kidding about being cold, Betsy’s whole body trembled as I pulled her close to me under the covers. She was shivering like crazy, so bad we couldn’t even kiss for a bit. Instead, she just held onto me, tight, like a life raft in the ocean.

Finally, I felt my little sister settle into her usual spot. Her head notched in the nook of my neck. Hand rested on my bare chest. I squeezed her tight to me. She gripped me back.

We stayed still for a bit, like savoring our connection. But soon enough we were back to kissing. I don’t know how these make out sessions started, honestly. We kind of slipped into them. A furtive glance. A shared look. Then pow, duo-directional lipus-lockus.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

Again, I stroked my sister’s back. She ran her hand up and down my bare torso. Abruptly, I felt something bump against my dick.

I haven’t mentioned it to this point, mostly because I assumed it would be fairly obvious. But I was getting truly, epically erect during these little pre-sleep sessions with my sister. I mean, hard as I’d ever felt. My balls would ache like crazy, too, which was probably part of what was keeping me up all night.

You’d assume, therefore, that after Betsy left or the next morning or whatever, that I would give myself some relief. Except I couldn’t. Because rubbing away my sibling-induced erection felt far too close to other, more incestuous ideas.

So, instead, I was in a constant state of pained, semi-arousal until Betsy and I were together. Then I’d shift to an even more excruciating, completely unquantifiable level of aroused-out-of-my-mind.

To this point, however, Betsy and I had kept everything over the clothes and above the waist. My sister must have gotten a little more enthusiastic than usual, reached a little further than she ordinarily might, and bumped into my tumescent member. Considering how huge it felt between my legs — like a fleshy, throbbing redwood sprouting in the middle of Kansas — I’m actually kind of surprised that this had never happened before.

“Oh!” Betsy squeaked, adorably. She flinched back from me. Her eyes were wide.

“Sorry,” I said, “It’s not. That is, I’m not. We’re.”

Betsy saw me struggling but instead of reaching out to help she sat back and watched me thrash. Sweet girl, that. Glad we never went mountain climbing together, because I’d already be a black smudge on a rock by now.

“It’s natural,” I said, finally catching my rational mind, “A reaction to being here with a girl. Any girl.”

“It’s fine,” Betsy said, shifting from a smirk to a friendly smile. “I understand. You can’t control it.”

“Right,” I said, breathing normally for the first time in what felt like hours but had been less than a minute. “It’s a biological response. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Betsy said. She rubbed my arm affectionately. “It’s totally normal. I’m not upset, at all.”

“Thanks,” I said. I leaned over to kiss her, but Betsy slid back.

“It’s just, well, as much as I can appreciate our happy little friend. He’s kind of getting in the way of our warm-up time,” Betsy said.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling very shy. “Well, if you want to go back to your bedroom, I understand.”

“I’m not nearly warm enough for that,” Betsy said, “Can’t we do something about him? You know, help him settle in for the night?”

“OH!” I said, suddenly feeling even shyer. “I mean, I guess I could, um, take care of it. If you’ll give me a minute.”

“That’s, alright, I’ve got it.”

My baby sister’s hand shot out and grabbed my dick. It was over my pajamas. Far too sudden. And my sister. But it didn’t matter. It’s like I was a supercharged engine waiting to leap off the starting line. And Betsy had found my accelerator.

I groaned as my sister grabbed hold. It felt better than anything I’d ever experienced. The combination of the buildup of the last week, the situation itself, even the surprise of my sister — it made the experience feel more powerful than even intercourse. And Betsy hadn’t even truly done anything yet.

My sister squeezed my member through the fabric of the pjs, tightly. Smiling sweetly the whole time.

“Feels good?” Betsy asked.

“It’s a little tight,” I said.

“Oops!” Betsy said. She loosened her grip. “I’ve never actually touched one, myself.”

“You’re not actually touching it,” I said, before I could stop myself.

“True,” Betsy said. She reached into my fly and pulled out my erect penis.

Holy fuck.

I’m not that big, I swear. I have a perfectly normal sized dick. Really. But after all the arousal I had saved up and compared to the petite hand that was holding it, I swear it looked like I’d been keeping a fleshy Eiffel Tower in my pants this whole time.

Betsy took one look at my cock and giggled with delight. “Oh wow. OK. That’s awesome,” she said. She slowly manipulated my cock while she dipped her head to examine it at every angle. “Those are your balls, right?”

“Yes,” I said, my breath tight while my overeager sister lightly squeezed my scrotum.

“Sensitive?”

“Yes,” I gasped out again.

“OK, I’ll be careful,” Betsy said. She gave a little shiver, and I couldn’t tell if it was the usual chill or more of an incestuous thrill.

Again, my sister gripped my dick. But now it was skin on skin. For a girl that was always cold, Betsy’s hand felt plenty warm wrapped around my shaft. She held it there, tight, then looked at me expectantly.

“So, when does it go down?”

“What?”

“How do I make it spit?” Betsy asked, “So we can get back to our cuddle time.”

“You honestly don’t know?”

“Don’t be rude,” Betsy said, “I’ve heard about this stuff, watched a few videos, but it always seems simpler than it really is.”

I nodded, doing my best to keep my expression neutral. My sister was holding my cock — I had nothing to complain about in that moment.

I wrapped my hand around my sister’s and showed her, gently, how to move her fist up and down. Betsy nodded, earnestly. The perfect sexy student. After a few strokes, she showed me she got it and I leaned back.

Betsy’s little pink hand ran up my thick, purpling shaft. Her quick little fingers urgently pumped my penis, her tongue buried in the corner of her mouth.

“Come on now, little man,” Betsy said, “Time to go night-night.”

“It’s a little dry,” I said.

“Oh!” Betsy said. She gave her palm a long, sloppy lick, then returned to stroking. On a scale of 1 to 10, my sister grabbing my dick through my pjs had been a 15. So, we had to be somewhere in the hundreds by now.

Betsy tucked her braid back and returned to rubbing me off. Her hand made wet sounds as she pushed and pulled. The power of the moment overwhelmed me.

It wasn’t just the motion or the touch, though that was plenty. It was seeing my sister up on her knees, bent over my cock. The look of concentration on her face. The fervent little quirk of her mouth. I swear, I could have gone numb from the crown down and I still would have been about to blow my load from what my sister was doing.

“Close?” Betsy asked.

“Yuh-huh,” I said. Barely able to speak.

And then I had a thought. An inspiration, really. A lightning strike of ingenuity I’ve yet to match in my lifetime.

“When I… When it, well, you know. It’s going to go everywhere,” I said.

Betsy looked at me like I was speaking ancient Celtic.

“When it spits,” I said, using her term.

“There’s a lot?” Betsy asked. She slowed her movements, allowing me to regain the ability to speak for a moment.

“A lot a lot,” I said, “So you might want to, like, take off your sweatshirt. So, you don’t get it all messed up.”

What can I say? It was a desperate gamble. I mean, there were plenty of tissues not two feet away from us. But when you’ve got your sister stroking you, I mean, you kind of have to try to get her shirt off. That’s just common sense.