That's what my father tells me, although don't remember any of it. Why should I? Mother died when I was a half-hour old.
My very first memory is when my father had remarried, and my mother was a Vietnamese woman. A pregnant Vietnamese woman, so there is about a 2 1/2 year gap between when I killed Mother and I remember the woman I considered my mother growing up.
I am not Vietnamese. Far from it. Born blonde with blue eyes, just like the Mother I killed. My sister, though, she was Vietnamese. Well, half-sister and half-Vietnamese, although she looked pure Asian. Particularly next to her fair-haired big brother. As a kid, things like that don't bother you so much. So, my sister and mother did not look like me. Jenny Valentine, down the block, didn't look at all like her sister or her father. In fact, she looked just like Mr. Bonner across the street--I wonder if Mr. Valentine ever picked up on that?
My sister's name is Huong, which means pink rose, which we found funny growing up, because my skin was pink. Hers was gorgeous, an olive tan, which I tried to emulate by spending as much time in the sun as possible. Even with my best suntan, my skin barely reached the tone of the parts of hers which never saw sunlight. Siblings compare those things.
So, despite our apparent differences, Huong and I grew up as any normal brother and sister, and her mother was my mom. For a while, we had a normal life. Until the day Mama ran the stop sign while driving us to elementary school. The truck killed her. Riding in back, Huong and I were banged up, but basically okay. On the outside.
Inside, Mama's death hurt us all. I suppose Father considered Huong and I both killed her, since she was driving us to school, but he never said it aloud. We knew what he was thinking. I hid the pain of killing a second mother behind shyness. Our father dealt with the death of his second wife out of a bottle.
Huong handled it more creatively.
Her sleepwalking began right after they released us from the hospital. A neighbor almost ran her over a couple of blocks from the house, walking in the street wearing her nightie at 3 in the morning.
Her creativity was far from finished--not by a long shot. She put all her effort into being the kind of daughter her mother would have been proud of, and what do you know? She possessed that alchemy that Amerasian kids have. By the time she graduated high school, she was a cheerleader in the cool crowd with a 4.0 GPA. And she could freaking sing. And, she was gorgeous.
No one believed that shy blond kid was her big brother.
We could not have looked any more different, but we were close. Close as any normal brother and sister.
Sis went off to college on a scholarship, while I slaved away at the local community college and worked two jobs to support it. Besides, someone had to stay with Pop to bail him out when he periodically ran into a ditch while driving home from a bar.
Somewhere along the way, she stopped sleepwalking. The doctors attributed it to the trauma of watching her mother die right in front of her. And kids grow out of it--like she did.
So, when the horn blaring in the street outside our house woke me up one summer night, when Huong was home for summer break after her sophomore year at the prestigious college she attended, I didn't really suspect anything. But I looked out the window only to find my sis standing in the street barefoot, wearing nothing but a slightly large tee-shirt, and some jagoff with his bumper about 3 feet from her honking like he was trying to wake her up.
Turns out, the trauma of her breakup with her asshole boyfriend must have been enough to trigger her sleepwalking to return after 10 years.
"It was only a onetime thing--I'm sure of it."
Huong spoke with her typical confidence. Whether to reassure us, as Father and I both suspected, or perhaps she knew. Somehow.
"Was this because of your breakup?"
"Who knows? Maybe."
"What happened?" I was prying, and she warned me to back down with a flash of her dark eyes.
"What always happens. We broke up. End of story."
"It must have been more traumatic than that if you are sleepwalking again because of it."
"I'll kill him," said the gallant father, his words thick with alcohol.
"Not if I get to him first." Unlike him, mine was no idle threat. When her high school boyfriend dumped her, no one expected her introverted brother to do anything about it. Little did they know. Jimmy missed the Homecoming game and the rest of the football season with the injuries. The second-string QB had to fill in for the rest of the year, and Jimmy lost out on his big college scholarship.
To her friends, Huong said she hated me for it, but in private, she hugged me tight and thanked me. And we laughed about it for hours.
That night, she sat in her daddy's lap and looked sweet as a little girl. "Relationships end. They aren't Hallmark Movies with a happy ever after. Love is more Russian novel. It always ends in pain and sadness. Next time, it will be me leaving a broken heart."
"How can we be sure?" Someone had to be the voice or reason--why not me?
"If it happens again, I will go see Dr. MacNamara and he can give me more of those pills I took last time. It worked."
"If it happens again, we might be peeling you off the road."
She made a bratty face at me, then turned back to our father. "Not with the two men in my life here to protect me. You'll watch out for me, won't you, Daddy?"
Years ago, she learned how to twist our father around her little finger. All she had to do was call him Daddy and give him that doe-eyed look and he caved. Every. Time.
"Don't worry." She gave him a big kiss on the cheek, which guaranteed his capitulation. On her way out of the room, she stopped and gave me a brief peck on the forehead. "I trust you, big brother!"
Nothing happened for days, so we figured she must have been right. A one-off and she was back to normal. Which, in her case, meant sheer perfection. No one mentioned it, as if to avoid jinxing her, the incident soon forgotten. Summer rolled on, the days growing longer and hotter, the nights quiet and uneventful.
It was the craziest dream. I was on the Titanic, and everyone lined up to get on the lifeboats. Anna Kendrick stood guard at the lifeboat wearing a sexy sailor outfit, asking everyone, "Tickets, please." What ticket? I told her I didn't have a ticket for the lifeboat. "That's too bad," she said. "Next!"
Then the doomed ship shook with some sort of explosion.
The shaking continued, enough to rouse me from my slumber, and I was moving around on my bed. It took a few seconds to gather my thoughts, but everything was shaking, although I was back in my own bed, right in my own room.
It felt like someone was climbing over my bed.
Someone was climbing over my bed. Crawling, actually, right up the middle from down at the foot.
"Huong, what are you doing?"
In the dark, all I could make out was her hair and an oversized white tee she wore for sleeping, and she was crawling on all fours. In that light, impossible to see her face to tell if she was sleepwalking again. But right away, I knew.
She didn't say a word, and was right dead center of the bed, forcing me to scootch over to get out of her way.
"Huong, are you awake?"
Nothing. Up to the pillow by then, she lay down and rolled onto her side, back toward me. I had scooted so far over to give her room, my shoulder was hanging off the side of the bed.
Damn. I was literally about to slide off, and she scooted back a couple of inches, pressing against my side. Then she was asleep. Normal sleep. In my bed. Not a muscle moved, her breathing was shallow and regular and didn't change for--I don't know... half an hour? My phone was on the table on the far side of the bed, so I could only guess about the time.
To stay on the bed, I needed to move. First, I considered climbing over her to the other side of the mattress, but the more I thought about it, she really was offering herself to spoon with. And that was not the worst idea.
There isn't much space to put a hand on a girl so tiny. Not with hands as huge as mine. On her arm was uncomfortable, on her thigh slightly better. Her stomach felt more natural, but fingertips bumped up against bottom-boob. That launched some stirring in my boxers, and if I tried to scoot my ass away any further, I'd slide off onto the floor.
She must still be deep asleep, I thought. Otherwise, she'd be ripping me for wedging my boner in her crack like a hot dog bun.
What the hell!
It was my bed, after all, and a man should be comfortable in his own bed. The most natural position didn't crank my arm at such an awkward position.
My hand cupped her breast, which nestled inside it nicely. Why not? Probably the only chance I will get. And she was sound asleep and must have wanted me to cuddle with her. Right?
My boob-grab did not stir her from her slumber.
And you probably want me to tell you about her titties, don't you? Well, I will not disappoint you. Firm as a ripe peach yet, at the same time, soft, supple and warm. It filled my grasp more than expected, more than they looked on her diminutive frame. It felt like touching fire, although it caused no burn. Call me biased because she's my sister, but it was a perfect breast.
For the longest time, I did nothing more than cup it. Waking my sister by squeezing her boob would have repercussions. Holding it gave plausible deniability. My cock screamed for more, but it was in a happy place, so I did my best to ignore it.
There was no fucking way I was getting back to sleep--not with my sister's boob in my hand!
How is it possible for the most pleasant position I had ever been in to be so damn frustrating at the same time? It took a while for the fear to give way to the fullest enjoyment of my predicament. My brain was alive with wonderful, naughty thoughts.
And those thoughts finally offered up an excellent idea. While squeezing might wake her, playing with nipple probably would not.
Easy enough to find, even though it was soft and the tip small. One fingertip circled it, teased it to and fro, felt it stiffen to my touch. My cock responded by growing even harder; if it could speak, it would have been screaming!
Huong moaned a little and shifted her weight to lean against me. My hand trembled, her hair was in my mouth, her essence strong in my nostrils, both from her shampoo and her natural scent, which I knew but had never consciously noticed.
"How did I get here?"
Soft morning light filled the room. Somehow, I had drifted off. Huong lifted her head, pulling some of her long, silky hairs from my mouth. Her soft flesh still cupped in my hand. "You were sleepwalking again."
"Thank god I came in here! Imagine if I'd gone into Daddy's room. Or a neighbor's house."
"Or the interstate."
She rolled onto her back. "Don't tell anyone about this."
"Of course," I answered as she got up and slipped out the door. "You really need to see a doctor before something happens."
"I was just thinking the same thing."
Not a word about waking up with her boob in my grubby paw or making a bun for my hot dog.
Fifteen minutes later, after my heart rate slowed and my cock started behaving in a civilized fashion, I got up to start the day.
Doctors apparently consider broken bones and heart attacks more important than somnambulism. The first available appointment was on Wednesday of the next week.
Something had to be done. We could not lock her in until then--not that locked doors would work, because she unlocked and unchained the front door that night she went wandering into the street.
"Someone has to stay awake to make sure she does not wander back into the street or fall down the stairs or something."
Our father nodded in agreement. "Why don't we split up the watch? I'll stay up until, say, 3:00, then you can take it from there." Made sense. He could nurse his beers until then. Much better than trying to wake him from drunken coma at 3.
"Hopefully, that was the end of it, and in a few days we'll be back to normal," Huong said. Before going upstairs for bed, she bent down to kiss Papa on the forehead. "Thank you for looking out for me."
Then she winked at me before going upstairs.
Late nights are no big deal for me, but getting up early is. I set the alarm for 2:30, just in case. When it went off, I dragged my ass downstairs, where father was sitting in his chair in front of the TV, remote in one hand, beer can in the other. After putting a pot of coffee on, I decided a bath might help wake me up. Normally, I shower, but in the middle of the night, a warm bath just sounded good.
I had only been soaking for a minute when the door opened and Huong strolled right in.
"Hey, get out! Jeez!"
It only took a second to realize she was not awake. Unseeing eyes stared straight ahead and her normally quick, graceful movements were gone. Too slow, and she moved in a herky-jerky way.
When we were kids and this happened, the doctors warned us not to wake her while she is sleepwalking, which I remembered well. I covered my crotch with one hand because, you know--I'm an adult and don't do bubble baths.
Huong had been sleeping in some flimsy nightgown. It wasn't too sexy, but it wasn't very modest, either. Down to about mid-thigh, plunging low in front. It had virtually no back. Ignoring me, she turned to the mirror and began brushing her long, flowing hair, which covered much of her exposed back.
Goddamnit! Why do cocks have a mind of their own? A stiffy was stirring, and I had nowhere to hide it. Frozen to avoid splashing around to rouse her from her sleep, there was nothing to do but watch.
Vanity lights, reflected from the mirror where she stood, created a lithe shadow through translucent fabric, outlining the contours of her body.
Water in the bath sat at periscope depth, and soon my purple helmet stuck an inch or so out, presumably to get the same view my eyes had. She had never glanced in this direction, but she could not keep brushing her hair all night.
And she didn't.
Huong put the brush back and turned toward the door. I started to stand, eyeing the towel on the rack, when she turned toward me, so I slid back into the water, only head and shoulders, knees and the head of my erect penis sticking out. In that same sleepwalking motion, she came to the tub and reached down. My heart was pounding.
She reached past my head, to the bottles holding shampoo, body wash and other stuff of hers, where she grabbed a bottle of some pretty smelling girly stuff. Her boobs dangled about a foot from my face, and I had a missile topped with a thermonuclear device aimed at them. I wanted to cover my rod, but figured it would look like I was playing with myself, so I didn't move a muscle.
Her eyes never went to me.
Satisfied with the bottle, she bent over, leaning back across me to place it on the ledge near my feet. My heat-seeking missile tracked her. This new place must have satisfied, for she turned back to the door. I scrambled for the towel to make sure she did not fall down the staircase.
That is exactly where she was heading.
I caught up to her at the top of the flight and turned her shoulders with as light a touch as possible. The towel fell to the floor the instant I let it go. Not that it mattered much, because the towel had been sticking straight out like an outtake from an American Pie film. And I walked her, buck naked, back to her room, to her bed, turned her to sit on the edge, to lie down, and I tucked her in. The whole time praying she would not awaken to see my massive woody pointing at her.
It worked! She lay down, shut her eyes, and never let on about my excited dick.
Downstairs, our father was asleep in the chair, a beer still balanced on the arm in one hand. I had boxers on by then, so I turned the tube off and went to bed, watching her door down the hall while I jerked off. To stay awake, of course.
A couple of times.
For the first week on her new medicine, Huong slept like a babe through the nights. It was over after 3 incidents, we figured. We were wrong about a lot of things.
I woke up for the late guard shift. Father and I were still taking turns, even with it looking like she put it behind her. Everything was quiet, but her bedroom door was open. I checked inside, and although her bed looked slept-in, she was nowhere to be seen. A quick peek in the bathroom indicated no late-night hair-brushing was going on.
Papa was snoozing in his chair while Who's The Boss played.
"Papa, wake up! Huong is gone."
"Wha..."
"Get up! She's sleepwalking and she's not upstairs." As I said it, I noticed the front door, wide open. "Jesus, Papa--she had to walk right past you!"
He stumbled after me as I ran out the door. "Go left--I'll search this way," and headed toward the right.
At night, our neighborhood is quiet as a graveyard. Not a soul in sight, houses dark. Luckily, no cars. I whisper-yelled her name as I walked down the street, peering between houses, behind bushes. She could be anywhere. If she wandered out an hour ago, she could be downtown by now.
A couple of blocks from home, I heard a splash. It came from behind the Petersons' house. We knew it well--when we were kids, the Peterson kids invited us over to pool parties all the time.
Not a light was on in the Peterson home.
I sprinted around back fast as my legs could carry me.
Ripples still swept across the surface of the water. Below the diving board lay a shadowy figure, motionless except for a drifting mass of long, black hair.
My sister's hair.
I hadn't stopped to put on anything other than flip-flops, which I kicked off and dove in wearing the tee-shirt and boxers I had been sleeping in. Huong lay face-down on the bottom. Wasting no time, I reached around under her arms and kicked off the bottom. When we broke the surface, I wiped hair off her face even though it was clear she was not breathing, then dog-paddled to the side, keeping her head up. After shoving her up the side and rolling her away from the edge, I climbed up and knelt over her lifeless body.
Wet, her nightgown turned transparent as soaked tissue paper. I instinctively ran through a checklist of her condition.
Not breathing--check.
No heartbeat--check.
Nipples visible through clothing.
Damn it! Only a truly sick fuck looks at the body of his dead sister and thinks about nipples!
I rolled her onto one side and pounded her back. Water drained out. Alarming in its volume. Not a lifeguard, and with no first aid training, I was just winging it, but I had seen enough to know how to give CPR. Heck, I once watched a YouTube video demonstrating how it is done, and tried to remember. With both hands, I pumped the center of her chest 5 times. 5 seemed the right number.
My fingers were near her nipples.
Goddamn it! What the fuck is wrong with me?Open mouth, tilt head back and clear any obstructions. I had no idea what obstructions she might have picked up in a pool, but she was not choking on a pool noodle. Her tongue seemed to be in the proper place, and did not move when my fingers touched it.
Oh, shit! This is bad!
Dark, perfectly circular and about an inch in diameter. A little smaller than I had imagined her nipples, judging by her full lips.
I forced my breath into her. Once. Twice. Three times.
Nothing. So I gave her another round of chest compressions, gazing at her adorable, still face while doing so to avoid being distracted by nipples.
"Damn it! You can't die!" Once more, I sealed my lips over hers, tilted her head and gave her the breath of life. On the third one, her body rocked, and she inhaled, sucking air from my lungs. I jerked away, as much in shock as elation, as she vomited another volume of water, so I rolled her onto her side again. Once the water was gone, I laid her back as she drew in precious air.
Her breasts heaved. I always wondered what that meant when I read it in books, but as she inhaled deeply of sweet air, hers did heave. Since she wasn't dead anymore, I figured it wasn't so perverted to pay attention. Right?
Still coughing and sputtering, water still drooling from one corner of her mouth, she tried to speak, and she grabbed my hand tight, like I was still dragging her from the deep end.
"Don't talk. You are going to be okay. Were you sleepwalking?"
She nodded. Although not heaving any more, her nipples were still drawing my attention like a dog following a treat in his master's hand. When her breathing was normal--which was easy to see, focused intently on her chest--I decided we needed to get her home and dry her off. Thin arms wrapped around my neck as I lifted her, which was not difficult, because she barely weighed 100 pounds soaking wet.
"You saved my life," she said as I carried her home.
"You would have done the same for me."
"Well, sure. But I didn't; you did."
"Were you sleepwalking?"
"I guess so. One minute, I was in bed, the next minute I was underwater. It must have shocked me enough to breathe in a lungful of water. I sank like a rock, and next thing you know, you were over me, giving me the kiss of life."
"It wasn't a kiss..."
"I owe my life to you!"
Nipples. Why did her nipples pop into my head when she said that?
A block from our house, we passed under a streetlight. "Oh, no! Why didn't you tell me my nightgown turned to Saran wrap when wet?" One hand let go of my neck and she covered her boobies with it.
"I didn't notice."
"Sure, you didn't."
"I was preoccupied pulling your lifeless body from the deep end, performing CPR, stuff like that."
"Yeah, I'll bet you were preoccupied!" Unbalanced a little, holding on with only one hand must not have given the security she craved, and she wriggled in my arms. "You didn't look?"
"Oh, I looked. But I had a lot on my mind at that moment."
She grabbed back hold of my neck with both hands, to steady her, I told myself. Those amazing onyx eyes locked onto mine. "I guess saving my life is worth a little peep show."
"I'd have done the same thing if you were wearing a winter coat. And I really did not see so much. And I won't tell anyone you sleep in red panties!"
"I never thanked you for saving my life."
"No need to thank me. What are big brothers for if they don't pull your dead body from a swimming pool?"
"Thank you."
"Anytime, Sis. But seriously, don't do that again."
Nipples.
The next night, Papa was sipping coffee, so I felt fairly secure leaving him in charge when I crashed, even though I was reasonably sure his coffee was Irish. The instant my head hit the pillow, I was out.
Until shaken awake again by my sister crawling over my bed again.
This time, I rolled onto my side and waited for her. When she reached my end, she curled up alongside and snuggled into me.
Oh, what the fuck. I went straight for her boob. Damn, those are sweet boobs! Figuring saving her life earned a reward of a permission slip at bare minimum, I gave one a squeeze. Ho-ly hell! How can something so soft be so firm, too? I was gentle, of course--she is my sister, and she was asleep and I really did not want to wake her. To see how far I could take this, my lust got the best of me. Harder and harder I squeezed.
I was going to town on that luscious breast!
When I pressed it against her and started rubbing in circles, her back pressed harder against me, and it felt like her sweet little bum pushed a little harder against my wood. How I did not blow a wad right then and there is one of the greatest mysteries of the universe.
The alarm never went off. Must have been earlier than I thought. How I fell asleep that night is another of the mysteries of the universe.
What woke me was the shower running. Maybe the bathtub--I really wasn't sure. Images of her sunk to the bottom of the pool rushed through my head. Swear to god I wasn't thinking nipples! I ran in, hoping to get there before she slipped or drowned or something.
Huong was standing in the shower, in all her naked, wet glory. She tried to cover herself. Lucky suds clung to her body. "Get out of here, pervert!"
"I thought you were still sleepwalking."
"Water woke me up. Now get out!"
With that, she turned around. Her little ass is marvelous.
The wonder of Amerasian girls is how they seem to select the best of their European and Asian DNA. Huong strongly resembled her mother, yet they were different. Huong had longer legs and--far as I can remember--her breasts are slightly larger than her mom's. But her little ass is the piece de resistance. A masterpiece, I realized when I saw it, too wonderful to pull myself away from.
"You were sleepwalking again, is all."
"I know."
"You came into my room again."
"I know. I woke up there. Decided to shower now since I am still up so I can sleep longer in the morning."
When she peeked over her shoulder, she saw only my back. I know, because I turned to an angle where I could watch her ass in the mirror. Thank you, shower fan--no fog obscured the view! She must have figured I saved her life, and it probably looked like I could not see her with my back turned.
"I thought you were asleep. You might fall or drown again."
"I guess I was. The water must have wakened me. Thanks for looking out for me, big brother." The water shut off.
"Any time."
"Maybe not when I am in the shower."
"Sure. Right. Water wakes you up. Sorry about walking in on you like this."
Dripping wet arms wrapped around me in a big hug from behind. She had wrapped a towel around herself without drying off. Then my sis disappeared down the hall to her own room.As I found out, that summer of her sophomore year in college, her sleepwalking was making me realize I loved her in other ways, too.
The next night, a soft sound awakened me. Close by, in the hall right outside my room. There was Huong dressed in her sleeping shirt, shapely bare legs sticking out, heading straight for the stairs.
Gentle as possible to avoid awakening her, I turned her by the shoulders to guide her to her room, but she kept pivoting toward mine. She's a strong little thing and determined when she sets her mind to something. Awake or asleep.
Whatever the point of her somnambulism, sleepwalking back to her own bed was apparently not it.
Mind you, I had no problem sharing a bed with her again. If she dreams of snuggling up with me for another night, may her dreams come true. It just seemed to be taking advantage to guide her to it myself. Let her decide.
And she did. Honest, I tried, but her sleeping little mind was set on my bed, so I let her have her way. It is easy to convince yourself the purpose was to avoid startling her awake.
By this point, I was quite enamored with my sister's breasts. I considered myself a big-boob kind of guy, but these tiny titties were growing on me. They weren't all that tiny, either. And they were my sister's, which made them even more special.
I played with each one before settling the hot dog in its bun and drifting off.
The alarm woke me at three.
Her breast was still in my hand, just as when I fell asleep. And I must have stayed hard all this time. Did this longevity happen on nights when my sister's bum was not wedged against my stiffy?
"Is it your shift to keep me from walking into the street?"
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! She's awake and I'm holding her tit! Worse still, she had to feel my wood. Oddly, she lay still, as if waking up with your brother groping your boob and pressing his cock against your bum cheeks is the most natural thing in the world.
Remain calm! As long as she is cool, act like nothing is happening.
"I guess so. Must be 3:00 already."
The phone kept playing my wake-up tune. "Are you going to get that?"
"Oh, right." I had to let go of her boob to shut the phone up. "It takes me a minute to--"
"Same with me. More, I guess, if you count when I'm wandering around the house in the dark. Doesn't it bother you when I wander in here in the middle of the night?"
"Not really," I answered, playing it down as much as possible. "Better than the street or a pool."
Nipples.
"Listen, I'm sorry..."
"About what?"
"When the alarm went off, I had my hand on your breast."
She rolled onto her back. "If I can't control what I do while asleep, I can hardly fault you for what you do in your sleep."
I could have let it go at that. I should have. Absolution, for at least the current grope! But I felt like a fraud and owed her honesty.
"I touched you when you came in here. Before I went back to sleep."
"Really? Hmm. I wondered about that."
"About what?"
"This is the third or fourth time I woke up here, and I wondered if you ever took liberties."
"Huong, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
She laughed. Laughed! "I suppose it's the least I can do after bothering you so much." She turned the rest of the way to face me, her face on the pillow inches from mine, breath warm on my face. "But don't get any ideas--stick your hand down my panties while I am asleep and I'll cut your fingers off with garden shears."
"Aren't you angry?"
"At what? I owe you my life, and all you've asked for is to touch my tittie. Seriously, if a girl climbs into a guy's bed, her boobs are fair play."
She knew it wasn't just her boobs, either. She felt my cock when she woke up. I love that girl! I have the coolest sister on earth. To top it off, she hugged me. Not some brief hug, but a real embrace. "Thanks for being honest with me. I wish other guys treated girls the way you treat me."
Chivalry is not dead! Nor is groping, it seems.
"What happened with you and that asshole?" I avoided saying his name. PTSD and all.
"He turned out to be like every guy. All they want is the Asian experience. Soon as they get it, they get all squirrelly, scared that Mama won't accept her little boy dating a Gook. That's why I almost never let a guy get what he wants. This time, I let my guard down. Soon as he screwed the Asian girl, he began to lose interest."
"That really sucks. I'm sorry."
"Well, it won't happen again. From now on, every guy I date will know right up front that I am celibate until marriage. 'You want the Asian experience? Prove it, buster!'"
She was still hanging on to me, and me to her. And my cock showed no signs of abating, even with this piece of discouraging news. I guess it did not understand a guy cannot marry his sister, so it was SOL. Cocks are ever optimistic.
The tip of her nose was touching the tip of mine as we gazed into the eyes of the one person on earth we both trusted with our lives. "Have you ever had the Asian experience?"
"I haven't had much experience."
"That is so sad! You are the best guy. Okay, maybe a little hard to get to know. I can't believe I just said hard." When we stopped laughing, she put her nose back to mine and cradled my face in one hand as gently as I had been holding her breast when she woke up. "I've got to fix you up with one of my friends. One who is deserving and good. Don't worry, she'll be hot, too. I haven't forgotten you're a guy."
Those full lips planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek. Okay, maybe not wet, but I felt the spot on my face long after she was back in her own bed. And it felt moist.
A few nights went by without incident. The medication must have kicked in. The doctor said it had a cumulative effect, and he seemed to be right. I missed cuddling with Huong. Not just because of playing with her boobs or the warm pressure on my nighttime wood. Or the nipples that tormented way too many of my waking thoughts.
I would enjoy cuddling with any woman as gorgeous as her. And I enjoyed cuddling with my sister. Although she joked off the groping, it must have shocked her back to normal, with a little help from modern chemistry.
I did not ask for these feelings about her. I did not want them. But I sure enjoyed them.
When my alarm woke me every morning at 3:00 and nothing ever happened, I seriously considered flushing her pills down the toilet.
Just when I had given up hope of ever touching my sister's breasts again, one night I awakened to the now-familiar sensation of my bed shaking.
Moonlight streaming in lit up Huong kneeling in the middle of the bed. Her hair hung long over a pale tee-shirt that almost glowed in the dim light. I swear, she looked like Samara in The Ring, hair almost completely covering her face. She just knelt there, staring down at me, I guess, although hair and shadows made it impossible to see her face.
Then she reached down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.
Few things in life are as sexy as a woman's breasts with their arms stretched out over her head, and it took a couple of seconds for her to pull it free of her head before her hair cascaded down over her breasts, hiding them from me again. Perhaps the only thing sexier than breasts with arms held high is long hair hiding breasts. Even if those breasts are not your sister's.
After dropping the nightshirt somewhere, she knelt there motionless.
Is she sleepwalking?
She must be, I decided. Different, a new and intriguing twist, this somnambulist exhibitionism, but Huong would not do this consciously--would she?
The only way to handle this was to lay her down and let her sleep it off. In the morning, I'd explain how her shirt ended up on the floor. I had never touched her bare breasts, but I didn't need any more sleep that night.
I sat up and tried to maneuver her down, but it was like that night I tried to steer her back to her room. She wasn't having it.
Instead, she kissed me. Not on the cheek this time, but flush on my lips. This one was wet, and her lips clasped onto my upper lip. Her tongue floated along my lip.
Was she sleepwalking or was I dreaming?
No matter how I tried to ease her down beside me, she held her ground, taking my cheeks in her hand and giving me a deep, sweet, amazing kiss. As her tongue slowly circled mine, my hands ran up and down the silken skin of her back. Under her hair, down to her panties.
I took one precious, hair-draped breast in my hand. Her response was to kiss more passionately. Eventually, I brushed aside her locks to feel the satin skin of that firm breast against my bare hand.
She pushed me back, and I lay there with my eyes transfixed on her one exposed breast, pale in the moonlight with a milk-chocolate center. About the size of a chocolate kiss, but a billion times more alluring. My head lifted, drawn toward that delightful milk chocolate treat, but a hand on my chest pushed me back down.
Then she gave me the greatest shock of my life by tugging down my boxers.
Yeah, I made it easy for her by lifting my butt. Who wouldn't?
One tiny hand threw her hair back over her shoulder with a flourish, exposing the other perfect, pert breast. For the first time, I could see her face clearly, and her expression was like she was holding back a laugh.
By moonlight, she looks like an angel.
Like that night in the bathtub, my cock pointed up at her, full of hope. Huong glanced down at it and smiled--a far less angelic smile. Without a word, she dove straight for it. She covered my rock-hard dick with a flurry of sweet little kisses. I was freaking gasping with delight! Never in my wildest dreams had I dared imagine something like this!
Her lips took in my purple helmet.
"Huong, you don't have to do this."
She did it. Her lips slid down over me. Like her boobs, firm yet soft, in absolutely perfect balance. I felt air escaping from my lungs and assume I made some sort of noise as her tongue played along the side of my cock. Boobs forgotten, I focused on those luscious lips as my rod slid in and out between them in a steady, fairly quick rhythm.
I wish I could tell you I lay there enjoying it for a half hour, but I simply could not control it. Maybe I held out 30 seconds. I could have fought it, but she might wake up at any second. Or I might wake up. I owed her fair warning, though, so I touched her shoulder and said, "I'm going to come."
She dove a little deeper this time and sped up until I blew a massive, ecstatic wad into her mouth. She drank me down like I was the most delicious Slurpie in history. And she did not stop until the straw was empty and there was nothing left to taste.
By this point, I was pretty much in shock. A really great shock. What comes next? What do you say to your sister after a surprise midnight blowjob? A fantastic surprise midnight blowjob, at that.
Then I saw her face again. That expression she had when she walked in on me in the tub. Holy fuck, she was sleepwalking!
She pulled her panties over her slender hips and before that shock set in, had straddled me and began knee-walking up until reaching my pillow. Her hands braced against the wall, and mine grabbed her breasts. Her crotch only inches above my face, and although I could smell the sweet, temping aroma, it was too dark to see. What I'd give for more light!
I lifted my head, reaching for her with my tongue until it reached warm, impossibly soft flesh.
That must have been what she was waiting for. She lowered herself toward my tongue, which I made sure was not hard to find. Her tender lips opened to me, sweet wet essence on my lips, and my tongue was inside her.
This was all so surreal, my sister's behavior so out of character. It was wrong, and I tried to convince myself she must be awake, but one taste of my sister's vaginal juices overwhelmed any moral compass.
She wants this; I convinced myself. She wants me.
Once, as a kid, I tripped at the top of the stairs and fell all the way to the bottom. That feeling as I began to tumble over, knowing there was nothing in my power to stop the inevitable--that is how it felt. The instant her lips touched the head of my prick destroyed my power to stop this.
Her clitoris was easy enough to find. Tiny, hidden, secret. Wonderful. She reacted, of course, by flexing her hips, driving in a motion I never conceived my baby sister could ever move. Truth be told, she probably never imagined me tonguing her pearl.
Or had she? If sleepwalking, it was a kind of dream. And what are dreams but repressed thoughts and fears and desires? If awake, how long had she been planning this? Better than a seduction, and impossible for me to object.
As if any human being could object to this.
I wanted to push my face far inside her, for my tongue to lick deeper than she has ever been touched. I longed to fulfill her deepest, darkest desires. I wanted to give my sister an orgasm, while wondering if an orgasm might awaken her.
She made not a sound, but expressed her pleasure in increasing, halting motions. I feared that climax because I never wanted this to end. I love how she felt. Her taste.
When she came, it was without a sound. Only tiny quakes. Wave upon wave. Thighs shaking, stomach undulating, hips pressing her hard against my face.
Then her hips lifted. I tried to follow, my needy tongue reaching as she moved out of its reach. She climbed off me.
"Huong?"
Her failure to answer terrified me.
Without a word, she lay down beside me. I covered her with the sheet and held her close.
And I slept.
"What happened?" Still spooned in my arms, Huong was awake, her breast in my hand again, only this time skin on skin. Her voice shook with terror.
"You walked in, climbed into bed with me and took off your shirt."
"Is that all?"
"No." I patted her bare hip.
"Oh Jesus! I'm naked!"
Brace for impact! How would my sister react to being molested? Screaming? Punching? Gunshot?
"Huong, I swear to god, you did this yourself. I would never take your clothes off while you were asleep."
It began to sink in. "Oh shit, you didn't screw me...?"
"No! Of course not. Not while you were asleep!"
"Whew!"
"How could you think I would make love with you when you are unconscious?"
"Then what did we do?"
"You gave me oral sex."
"I didn't!"
"You did."
"Did you...?"
"Yes I did."
"I didn't..."
"Yes, you did. Every drop. I mean, you literally sucked it out of me..."
"No, stop. I get it." She paused to ponder, perhaps trying to remember. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Oh, hell yeah! You were fantastic. I mean, truly amazing."
She sighed in relief. "Well, that's good."
"You seemed to enjoy it, too."
"I'll have to take your word for it."
"That's not all."
"There is more?"
"A lot more. Why do you think your panties are over there?"
"What did you do?"
"It's what you did. You took off your panties, not me. And then you climbed up and..."
"And what?"
"You sat on my face."
"No, I did not!"
"You did. Enjoyed the hell out of that, too."
"Holy shit!"
"You don't remember any of that?"
"Not a thing." She sits up. "The last thing I remember is going to bed. My bed. When I woke up here, buck naked, I figured something like this must have happened. To be honest, I figured you'd, you know, taken advantage."
"I wouldn't do that to any girl. Well, maybe Anna Kendrick, because I doubt she'd do me when she was awake." By this point, she was sitting up, topless and chatting with me. It took every ounce of my self-control to avoid staring at her pretty titties. "Do me a favor and put your nightshirt on, will you?"
"What's wrong? Don't you like my tits? Are they that sad?"
"I love your tits. They are... spectacular. That's the problem."
She noticed the tent I was pitching right away.
"Well, that's nice. How devastating if my own brother didn't like my tits."
"They are beautiful."
"Thank you."
"I'm not just saying that because I am your brother."
"I can see that." Those dark eyes drifted down to my tent. "Listen, I want you to know I don't normally, you know. Swallow. As in never."
"Until tonight. And you were really into it."
"Well, I probably figured it's like my own. I mean, half the DNA is mine, right?"
"I'm pretty sure I would not enjoy slurping down my own cum."
"Was I really into it?"
"Totally. Surprised the hell out of me."
"I bet."
"The whole thing came out of the blue. Are you trying to torture me by showing your breasts like that?"
"Torture?"
"They are beautiful breasts."
She wiggled her shoulders a little, showing off. This was a new side to my sister, one hard to accept. Free and shameless.
"The problem is, I don't remember any of it. Hard to accept I acted that way while asleep. If there is one thing a girl should remember, it is brother sex. I bet you never will forget what happened."
"No chance I will ever forget last night."
"Pleasant memories, I hope."
"Top 3, and I can't remember what the other 2 are."
"Doesn't seem fair for you to remember me in such a secret way while all I have is a blank slate."
"Now that you mention it, it does sound unfair."
"Particularly since I let you do something to me I have never let anyone else do."
"Swallow my..?"
She put one finger over my lips to shut me the hell up before I said cum. "You're the only one."
For a minute, we sat there side by side, naked under my tent, her breasts uncovered. Mornings after can be terribly uncomfortable, depending on how stupid you acted. Imagine having no memory of blowing your brother!
"Okay, this is going to sound weird. Promise not to get mad at me."
"This whole thing has been weird," I said. "Right now, I cannot be mad at anything you say."
"What if we create a memory for me, too?"
"Something like last night?"
Her hand reached for my thigh--not in a sensual way, the way women react when they say something wrong and catch themselves. "I didn't mean to offend you!"
How could anyone be stupid enough to be offended by their sister suggesting they should have more sex? "A little shocked is all."
I suppose half the men on earth desire to be inside their sisters. To see their naked bodies, to touch their tender flesh. Taste them. To feast upon the forbidden fruit and for her to spread her legs before him, inviting him to plant his forbidden seed inside her. Sharing the most joyous intimacy between those born with the most intimate bond, an intimacy deep as their own chromosomes.The other half of men on earth are liars.
Few men's siblings are as desirous as mine, but doubtless even those with plain or even unappealing sisters feel this pull deep inside every cell of their body to the very core of their existence. Men share their deepest fears with their own blood, confess their most bitter failures with siblings, then have sex with strangers, with women they do not even like. Yet a surprising few seek to satisfy their most primal urge with the ones closest to them since birth.
I cannot speak for women, but I suspect in this regard they are quite similar to their brothers.
Men would willingly sell their souls for the intimate pleasures I already had been granted that night, yet my darling sister wanted more. For her brother to possess her again, to give him the most precious gift she had to give. A gift she bestowed upon men less worthy--a point she made clear when I confessed to groping her booby while she was asleep.
Sleepwalking into the street or a swimming pool may have been pure accident or perhaps a subconscious scream of the anguish buried inside. When she walked into my bedroom deep asleep, she was following the flip side of the coin. A cry for comfort from the one who would give it just for the asking, seeking nothing in return.
Her body yearned to be held by my loving arms. For a forbidden kiss. For my hand to caress her breast. For the forbidden excitement of my lips and tongue. To taste the link carried in our cellular makeup and to feel it enter her body. For our bodies to join together as one, and for me to put that genetic link binding us deep within her core.
Either that or she was just plain horny and as screwed up as her big brother.
In either case, the last thing I wanted at that moment was to disappoint my sister.
"Whatever you want from me is yours."
"Even things up a bit. Both of us will have something over the other, and I won't have to take your word for it every year at Thanksgiving that I enjoyed it. Is that a bad idea?"
It was the best idea I had ever heard. "I am all about creating memories."
Huong had unlimited potential in sales. Had she asked me at that moment to cut off my dick so no one else could do to me what she had, I'd have those garden shears she threatened my fingers with in two seconds flat. Hell, she sat on my face without asking, and now she was pulling out the hard sell to convince me to do something I already wanted to do. If I was right about what she wanted, no sales pitch was necessary.
"You know I'll do anything for you."
"And I feel exactly the same about you."
Once more, her eyes went down to my tent. Then, she flung the sheet off us and straddled me. Too quick to allow me to react or her to second-guess, she lowered her body over me and took my willing cock deep inside her.
Her body swayed from shoulders to hips. Her thighs tightened and relaxed as her body began moving slowly up and down. Hands braced on my chest and slightly bent forward, breasts pulsing with every motion her body made.
Her eyes locked onto mine, her full, sensuous lips parted, then her eyes narrowed. My hands found her thighs. Her tongue slowly licked her upper lip.
When I took those impeccable, swaying breasts in my hands, she bit her lower lip.
In all we had done, one thing we had not--and in that moment, I most needed. She was so tiny, almost too far away, but I needed to kiss those beautiful breasts. To suck on her nipples.
I took one in, and she understood. Maybe she wanted it, too, for she leaned forward, offering me her delectable breasts. Her intoxicating aroma was so strong. Soft nipples stiffened in an instant against my lips, and I kissed and licked and sucked them while her hips rose and fell.
She moaned and sighed and, every once in a while, the pleasure forced me to gasp against her breasts.
Trashy romance novels talk about earth-shattering, soul-destroying climaxes. Mine that day was far more than that. I stopped suckling her breasts and gazed into her lovely black eyes. Sounds came from my lips that no sister is supposed to hear, meant only for her.
Her lips were open, too. Panting as her hips thrust faster, more desperate, our loins slapping joyously together.
"Oh, Huong!" I gasped and thrust my hips up, driving my cock inside her to the hilt. I felt myself rushing into her, waves of the purest pleasure. I begged, "Don't stop! Don't stop," although I suspect stopping was the one thing she was not thinking about.
A strange calm came over me, numbing my body and causing everything to disappear. Everything but my sister. My only thought, once my pleasure began fading, was the deep need for her to feel what she had just caused in me. I have heard some women cannot have orgasms with men, but she was not getting out of here until my cock gave her the same otherworldly sensation.
When I again took a breast back in my mouth, she threw back her head, pulling free the strands of hair I took into my mouth with her nipple. And I listened to every sound she made, paid attention to every movement my lips and tongue ignited. I gave her what lit the hottest fire in her.
Not just creating a memory she would never forget, but the greatest sensation she ever felt. Like she had given me.
Head bent forward now, hair hanging down, a curtain around my face, hips driving more slowly and with deep purpose, she suddenly let out anguished cries and moans. Her body shook, hips jerking, stabbing me inside her.
Suddenly, she collapsed on me, forcing me back onto the bed. Lying on top of me with her lips resting against mine, not in a kiss but in utter satisfaction. I was still inside her, and she contracted her muscles to squeeze me a few times, laughing when she did. I rubbed her bare back and held her, because I never wanted this moment to end.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end, and my cock faded inside my sister, finally fading until it slipped free of her. Our lips still touching as we panted, even our deep breaths in synch.
Huong frequently sneaks into my room since then. Her sleepwalking days are behind her. Some nights, I sneak into hers. We cuddle, because this isn't about sex. Well, it is about sex. Every inch of her scrumptious body is mine. I have explored it. Touched it. Tasted it. From the sleek raven locks on top of her head to the tiny toes I found are perfect for sucking. As I am hers, to do with as she pleases.
She is right: relationships end. Love is pain. There is no happily ever after.
But blood is blood. A brother's love for his sister is unconditional, and a sister's love for her brother is the sweetest thing on earth.
"What is the Asian experience?"
"You, of all people, are asking me?"
A tender finger traced her dark, almond eyes. Her full lips. "Is it this?" My fingers ran through that thick, silk hair.
"It's that, along with adorable little boobs. And my fat nose."
"It's not fat."
"It's fat and you know it."
I kissed it. "I love your nose."
"'Oh, me so horny, me love you long time.' All you White guys look at us like China dolls with snapper pussies, a perfect little plaything for your sexual pleasure. We aren't real, not humans, but living, breathing sex dolls to have fun with."
"I know you're real."
"You have to. I am half you."
"So I haven't had the Asian experience?"
"Oh, you've had it. The real one, not some screwed-up fantasy."
"It is pretty screwed up, and sometimes I have to convince myself what we have is not some fantasy. A super-hot Matrix thing that is wired into my brain while I am lying in some pod."
"Yeah, that's probably it. Would explain how you know exactly how to drive me wild."
Had to be, because this could not be real. None of it.
"Summer is almost over," she said one night. She snuggled tight in my arms, her head on my chest. Naked, of course. We liked naked.
"Will you want to have a long-distance relationship, or do you plan to dump me?"
She promised to introduce me to friends. "A nice Vietnamese girl, for example?"
"Hell no! A White girl. I have some lovely Black friends, and one Latina who will go bonkers over her. You're her type."
"Don't you trust me with Asian girls?"
"No one else will ever measure up. If you want the Asian experience--the real one--come see me. I'll show you the real Asian experience."
THE END