Chapter 112 - BRO AND SIS

have never given any thought on the subject of incest, let alone brother-sister incest. But, an unexpected incidental experience I encountered piqued my interest in this taboo subject.

I'm John. Mid-thirties. Single.

When my parents passed away, my younger sis, Jane, early thirties, single, and I inherited a penthouse condominium apartment.

The condominium tower was perched on a wild desolate hillside. There were no other developments within a 2 kilometer radius. Far from the madding crowd. The penthouse was on the 40th floor. It had 3 bedrooms, a kitchenette cum dining area, and a lounge, that spilled seamlessly to an open patio. A mini 5 meter infinity pool dangled perilously from one corner of the patio in spectacular overhang.

The bedrooms, lounge and patio commanded a spectacular seaview. A coral island bobbed in pristine waters 100 meters offshore.

A little known winding cliff path connected the condominium garden to a secluded beach below. The beach was accessible by this path only.

The penthouse was a private heaven unto itself. No part of it, including the open patio, was within sight of anyone anywhere. A bolthole in the sky! The closest I'll get to heaven without the inconvenience of dying.

Besides the penthouse, my parents left Jane and I a more-than-modest sum of money. A surprise gift of largesse from our austere parents who worked and lived the Protestant Work Ethic. Counterintuitively, the unstated gift from my parents was that they never let on that there would be any inheritance, so that Jane and I were not distracted by moral hazards, in our academic and career pursuits. Between us, Jane was the more conservative one, somewhat influenced by our parents' religious values. But, she was no prude.

The inheritance enabled us to resign from our day jobs, live in and enjoy the penthouse, and pursue home businesses which aligned to our passions. I wrote freelance, dabbled in photography and media artwork. Jane, the pragmatic one, was an avid and shrewd online trader investor.

Jane and I each occupied a bedroom. We ran a homestay on the third bedroom, listed on one of the popular online homestay apps. The homestay room had an in-built washroom and a small balcony. This was productive deployment of an otherwise idle asset. It helped defray our living expenses. And we could orbit the world without venturing past our doorstep, hosting and engaging interesting people from all over the world, on our terms. And homestay guests got to share our skyhaven, and enjoy local immersion. Win-win.

We received a homestay request from the south of England. The requestor was Chloe. A husband and wife pair. Two-week stay. She remarked that she was looking for some place quiet, private, nestled in nature, to chill. The profile pictures of our penthouse, and the vista sweep of hill-thru-sea view impressed her. I studied Chloe's profile picture in the app. She had a pleasant look, maybe in her late forties or early fifties. This would be the second time that we were hosting English guests. Our first was a mother and son traveling pair. We had some interesting experiences from that hosting, to say the least.

Great! We replied that we'd be pleased to host her and her husband. We would pick her and her husband up from the nearest village, 3 kilometers from our condo.

DAY ONE

Chloe messaged me from the village. I drove to the village to meet her.

From a distance, I spied a middle-aged couple at the village cafe. I instinctively scanned round to see if there were other couples nearby. There were none. I then studied the woman's face again. Yes, it looked like Chloe's profile picture. I strode up to them.

We introduced ourselves. Exchanged pleasantries. Chloe introduced her partner as Cole.

I couldn't help but be captivated by Cole and Chloe. They looked the part of brother and sister. Even their mannerisms looked so. A pair of humanity cast from the same mould.

Chloe could sense that I was surprised by their likeness. She felt obliged to explain that Cole was her brother. Cole had at late notice, taken over her husband's place because of her husband's unforeseen work contingency. Her husband had just won a big business deal. Shit happens! But, this was a happy problem. Chloe had to scramble somewhat to source a fill-in at the eleventh hour. Chloe's grown-up children had work commitments. Her girlfriends had work and family entanglements which they couldn't unravel from. Her sister-in-law, Cole's wife, was on an overseas work assignment. Coincidentally, Cole was clearing his excess baggage of office leave carried forward and accumulated over a couple of years. He had to clear them by an immovable deadline, or lose them, by company edict. So, Cole was roped in to this pleasant enterprise.

Chloe in the flesh, looked early fifties. She carried that classic English rose look. A curiously healthy anemic complexion, with a light dusting of freckles. And then nuances of cheeky warm cuddly lusciousness. Comely was the word that would do her social justice. Five feet, four inches. She was lush topside. Chloe was what an English rose named Chloe would classically look like.

Cole was a 6-footer. Likely late forties. Probably the younger brother. He had his measured share of soft contours apt for his age group. A good-looking man with a determined jaw. His aquiline attributes contrasted complementingly with the mellowed features of his body form to project an Adonis hunk shaped by lived experience. I knew my sis would be mutedly pleased to have this living sculpture grace our humble abode for the next two weeks.

We gathered the luggage. It was a single backpack. I asked if there was more that would be forwarded to the condominium later. No. This was it. Hmmm... this was economical. Oh well, I guess bikinis and lite casual apparel don't consume much space. I drove back to the condominium. Cole and Chloe enjoyed the coastal drive along the winding road that hugged the hillside as it wound up. They were warming up. As we approached the condominium tower, brother and sister were awed by the 40-storey massive erection, on the hillslope, that would be their home for the fortnight.

When Jane opened the penthouse door, I detected her look of surprise at the unlikely sibling-looking pair. And then a muted quizzical askewed glance at me that enquired, what-the-fuck? After a brief but illuminating introduction, Jane led our guests to their room. Our normal orientation process was that we'll invite the guests to the patio for an ice-breaking welcome drink and chat to establish the social baseline, show them around the penthouse, and then the near environs. Their room was furnished with a queen-sized bed. I would have to ask Chloe later if she would like any reconfiguration of the bedding arrangement. But, it would be a challenge to replace the queen-sized bed with two singles given the limited swing space.

Half an hour on, we were chilling at the patio. Cole and Chloe had changed into tropical casuals. A pleasant transformation. Chloe was in a pair of high-cut bikini shorts which accentuated and flattered her legs, and a breezy white top. My sis, herself in gym shorts, caught me checking out our comely guest, and gave a knowing teasing grin. And then her eyes roved on to ascertain Cole.

Chloe was a homemaker, but worked part time twice a week in a private school teaching Literature and Art. This explained her pétillant demeanor. She had three grown-up children.

Cole was the younger brother by five years. He was in the IT sector, as was his wife. Cole had two grown-up children. Cole carried a mien of quiet confidence. He was at ease to let his sister, the feisty one, do most of the social interaction, content to be bemused by her bubbling chirp, and the reactions it elicited.

Chloe waxed lyrical poetic on the penthouse's spectacular dizzy view of sea and hill, the 360 degree privacy, and the cosy homey ambience of the apartment. In her words, a cottage-in-the-sky. Jane told them about the cliff path that wound down to the secluded beach, and then, the coral island offshore. Chloe appeared to place great stock on privacy. She asked if the path was the only access to the beach. She seemed pleased when Jane confirmed so. And when I told her that the coral island had a secluded beach cove on the ocean-facing side, which offered another level of privacy, she beamed.

Which prompted me to ask whether the bedding arrangement was OK, or would they prefer two single-beds in view of the change in their holiday plan. Sister looked at brother in a kind of muted suppressed amusement. Chloe observed that two single-beds would be overly crammed for the room size. She said, through stiff upper lip, that Cole and her will survive the ordeal.

She giggled, "I will have to make Cole behave, he he!" And then turning to Cole, she demurred meekly: "You will, won't you?"

Uncharacteristically, Cole turned to his sister and growled in mock tigerish: "Grrrr...!"

Chloe whimpered: "Oh, dear!"

My sis shot me an exaggerated astounded look. Hmmm... this must be the high water mark of British reserve! And we haven't even dipped our toes in yet! Cole was nonplussed by this playful tittilating jesting. It appeared like this was the easy outrageous banter that he engaged routinely with his sister. In any case, he felt at ease letting his effervescent sister do most of the socializing, although he was by no means shy.

I spied Cole's eyes darting surreptitiously between his and my sis's legs, as if agonizing pleasantly over a perplexing pickle. His eyes lingered generously on his sis's legs without awkwardness, but engaged Jane's with courteous rationed interest. I drifted. I became engrossed in Cole's happy dilemma. My spell snapped when my sis recrossed her legs. I looked up and saw her arching what-the-fuck questioning look, which soon melted into a gratifying twinkling smile.

Later, Jane and I shared a quiet moment.

Jane: What was all that about?"

Me: More than meets the eye.

Jane (smiling): You mean, your eyes?

Me (conceding): You got me there! It's all Cole's fault. Self-evidently, he is a leg man. I saw him admiring his sister's legs unabashedly. And then stealing stealthy rationed glances at yours. I became hypnotically intrigued by his interest, and my eyes took on a roving commission of their own.

Jane: Hmmm... brothers checking out their sisters. Now, how did we get here? And since we are where we are, so, you like what you saw?

Me (hesitatingly): Sexy legs!

Jane (teasingly again): Chloe's or mine?

Me: Both! But, for different reasons. Chloe's luscious legs complement her Rubenesque body. Your slender well-turned legs complement your lissome form.

Jane: Hmmm... you are a diplomat!

Me: Well, if you must know, I like yours better. The thing about luscious legs, if not the whole lush form, is that you have to parse what all that fleshiness is about. Is it shapeliness? Or, blubber artfully honed into shape? And then you go wondering if this and that flesh bit is rustic natural body art, or cellulite. Whereas yours are what they are. A pair of well-turned legs. Slender, soft, smooth. And perfectly toned to boot. They please and tease.

Jane (visibly pleased, pecking my cheek): Please and tease, huh? You are sweet! Here...

Jane surprised me. My lithe athletic sis extended her bare legs in front of me. She posed them this way and that in animated mock fashion model postures, shoe dangling off her toes, come-hither, and then ending up crossing her legs coquettishly.

Me: Hmmm... exquisite! A brother can describe his sister in only so many words before he crosses the line. I'll say this. You are one hot leggy babe.

Jane was visibly pleased.

DAY TWO

Jane and I were at the patio sipping our early morning espressos. We saw Cole and Chloe emerge from their bedroom. They didn't see us. We decided to leave them to their own devices. They were apparently making their way, with some haste, down to the beach to catch the first morning rays, and to revel in the privacy that Chloe so valued. Chloe was in a barely-legal skimpy yellow bikini that left little to the imagination.

Cole was in a matching Brazilian-style yellow thong. Effectively a cock sock masquerading devilishly as a swimming costume.

As the minimalist brother and sister made their way to the door, Cole placed his hand on his sis's ample hip, and then drifted to her ass, caressed it softly, as he guided her along. Chloe let her hand trail. It brushed against her brother's thong. She squeezed it, and then tugged him along. A moveable feast.

Jane (winking): Nice bro-sis bonding, huh?

Me: They are close. If they are this playfully liberal with each other, you have to wonder what goes on in the cosy confines of their room.

Jane: It has crossed my mind. Do you think Cole replacing Chloe's husband is a fabricated story? Do you think they are... intimate?

Me: Hmmm... They are our guests. I don't really like to speculate on our guests.

Jane: Let's do this. We have the full names of Chloe and Cole from the booking details. Let's check out social media, and trawl some. It is public information, so we are not prying.

Me: OK, I see no harm in this. A kind of belated reference check. In any case, we have a late notice change of one guest, so, it is not unreasonable that we do our due diligence. We are effectively hosting strangers in our home.

Jane: Well, here is Chloe's page. A photo of Chloe and her family. Her husband looks older than her. Maybe mid-fifties. Clunky. Could lose a few pounds. Her children are likely in their early to mid-thirties. And she is a granny, twice over. A matriach. Here is an extended clan picture.

Me: Let's try to pick out Cole. Here he is. The lady leaning to him must be his wife.

Jane: Here is Cole's page. Yes, that is his wife alright. Pretty lady in the classic English rose mould, his age range, slender, petite. The antithesis to Chloe. Two kids, likely in their twenties. Do you see a likeness between Chloe and Cole's wife?

Me: You are observant! Yes! A kind of younger version reinvention of Chloe, but repackaged in petite form. Hmmm... maybe there are some pathological undercurrents here...

Jane: We should stop. Our due diligence is done.

Me: Yes. I guess I am getting carried away. Chloe and Cole are close from what we have observed. But, there is no reason for my flight of fantasy.

DAY THREE AND FOUR

We didn't see much of Cole and Chloe in the next two days. They left the penthouse early in the morning with beach gear and meal packs in tow, chilling at the secluded beach, swimming over to the coral island, relaxing at the village, and cycling along the corniche taking into the glorious views. They were at one with this place, and with themselves.

When they returned in the evening, in their beach togs, skimpy as ever, we would sometimes chat with them in the lounge or patio, sipping wine, watching the sun dunk below the far horizon in slo-mo. Brother and sister savored these dramatic moments of nature, snuggling close to each other, in a body language that both appeared to be conversant in.

DAY FIVE

Jane and I would make a daytrip to the city about 30 kilometers away every now and then, to attend to professional and administrative matters which we couldn't execute over the internet. We also took this opportunity to stock up some on groceries which were unavailable in our village supermarket. On this occasion, we asked Cole and Chloe whether they would like to join us. They declined. We then took from them a list of items that they would like to buy from the city. We informed Chloe that we would be back by about 6pm. They would have the penthouse to themselves. We told Cole and Chloe that they were free to use whatever.

Jane and I completed our errands by 3pm. Two of our appointments were cancelled at late notice because the people involved were on unforseen medical leave. When we were ready to leave the city, we thought it appropriate that we should give Chloe a call to let them know that we would be home earlier than originally anticipated. Her cellphone appeared to be switched off. Maybe they were at the beach. In any case, we messaged her just in case she turned on her cellphone later.

We arrived at our penthouse at 4pm. All was quiet. The homestay bedroom door was closed. There was no sign of Cole and Chloe. Likely still at the beach, or somewhere. Jane and I brewed our espressos. We drew open the patio sliding door, and were just about to step into the patio to chill when Jane stopped dead in her tracks. I looked ahead.

The loungers were positioned side by side, facing the ocean. Cole and Chloe were naked on their loungers. Chloe was snuggled over Cole. She was nuzzling him. Her right leg draped over her brother's hips, her thigh resting on his genitals. They were snoozing. Serene as canned peach.

Jane and I retreated hastily to her room.

Jane said: "Oh shit, we forgot to close the patio sliding door."

I said: "Never mind, we'll just be upfront with our guests. We did attempt to inform Chloe via her cellphone. She would've our message on her cellphone, as well as a missed call record."

We watched a movie in Jane's room as we enjoyed our espressos.

I asked: "Is all this spooking you?"

Jane pondered: "No. Not really... Let's not read too much into this. Just a brother and sister liberated from the wretchedness of dreary weather, catching sunrays. When we went into this homestay business, one of our aims was to meet a diversity of people from all over the world. We're doing just that now."

Later that night, as Jane and I were chilling at the patio, Chloe joined us. Cole was in the room watching a movie.

Chloe began by apologizing for their nudity in the patio earlier. She had missed our call and message, as her cellphone had been in her room on mute. She was on holiday, and was not expecting any communication. She knew we had seen them, by the patio door that was left open.

Chloe explained that she lived a home nudist lifestyle in their country cottage in England. It wasn't always like that. When they first moved to the cottage, they led a textile lifestyle. The cottage was remote with a secluded garden. The nearest house was a kilometer away. So, over time, they became increasingly careless, if not carefree in their dressing, to the point that nudity became convenient custom. Besides their home, they skinny dipped in the many streams and ponds near their home. The benefits of country living.

I was wondering whether this was just Chloe and her husband, or did it include Cole and his wife. As if reading my mind, Chloe clarified that the home nudity involved only her and her husband. Chloe intimated that she initiated her brother to the nudist lifestyle only on this holiday because the environment and ambience was so right for it. The private secluded beach. The coral island, and its ocean-facing beach which looked out to the open ocean. When they had the penthouse all to themselves, they decided to enjoy the nudity. It was such a high being au naturel, at the patio, basking in the sun and seawind, taking in the glorious view, at nature's high bosom. Without awkwardness, she said that Cole and her have been nude in their room, and Cole was adapting famously to this new dimension of freedom.

Curiously, Chloe said: "This is such a treat for Cole. And of course, for me as well."

Jane slipped me a funny look.

Chloe then excused herself to go to the washroom. I looked at Jane. My somewhat conservative sis.

I asked: "Do you get the sense that Chloe is obliquely requesting our permission for Cole and her to range nude in our penthouse?"

Jane replied: "Sounds like it."

I said: "This would certainly make their homestay experience whole and satisfying. I'm OK to tell her to go for it. Would you be cool with it?

Jane replied: "I'm cool. They're decent folks. They just want to have a memorable holiday. And again, one of our aims of our homestay business is to meet interesting people from all over, and live experiences, wherever they may range".

I applauded: "Very noble!"

Jane smacked my chin in mock displeasure, and said: "Yes, I'll admit that there is a certain undercurrent of tingling charm in this."

I said: "It'll be a 'treat' for you, he he!"

Jane countered: "Hmmm... I have seen you checking out Chloe furtively."

Just then, Chloe rejoined us. I told Chloe that Jane and I should be the ones to apologize for barging into the patio unannounced. I added that we were cool with Cole and her living the nudist lifestyle in the penthouse, if that was what they wanted. It just didn't make sense that they had to slip on and off clothing each time they moved in and out of their bedroom. They could enjoy the sun in the patio and the pool.

Chloe beamed. She asked: "Would this be awkward for you? You've been more than kind. Cole and I wouldn't want to impose on you both."

And then turning to Jane, she asked: "Cole is still adjusting to this new freedom, if you know what I mean. He will have his moments of... hmmm... bodily exuberance. Do you mind?"

I looked interestedly at Jane's reaction. This was an implementation detail in the plan that had eluded Jane's consideration earlier.

Jane appeared mildly flustered momentarily, and then recovered. "Well, it will be a new experience for John and I. If John can survive this, so can I. One of our aims of running a homestay is to broaden our lived experience by sharing experiences with our guests. This is one such biodiversity opportunity."

Hmmm... women are so adept at reframing matters to their convenience.

I teased Jane: "Sharing experiences...? Do you mean we..."

Jane punched my arm in mock mortification. All three of us broke into good natured laughter. That was the seismic ice-breaking moment.

I said: "So, Chloe, feel free to start anytime tomorrow."

Jane teased: "My, my, isn't he an eager beaver!"

More infectious laughter.

DAY SIX

Jane and I were enjoying our morning espresso fix in the patio when Cole and Chloe emerged from their bedroom and joined us, in their full glory, with tea cups in hand. There was no awkwardness.

Chloe carried a mature demeanor on her five feet four inches form. She was degrees shy of buxom. Chloe had her obligatory share of flabs and sags of her age. Medium pendulous breasts. A sprinkle dusting of freckles on upper chest accentuated her cleavage. Softly contoured rump, prominent, but short of provocative. Soft rise of tummy. An artful delicate caesarean section cut filament line just above her mound. Legs flared into wide hips. Rubenesque.

Somewhat incongruently, where I had expected to see a lurid flowering of petals at her lady part, her silken mons pubis was a minimalist dainty gash that started low on her mound. A smooth impish hint cleft with no inner lips protruding. If you gazed at her from a distance, you are apt to wonder where her vagina slit is.

A curious confluence abstraction of buxom and nubile, of pubescent and mature. It all came together earthily into a sensual womanly whole that was alluring. Easy to identify, but hard to define precisely.

Cole had his rightful legacy allocation of mellowed contours. He was scrupulously shaven, matching his sister. His uncircumcised penis was above average in length, but by not much. His girth was decent sized, but not fat in a crass lewd way. His penis pointed down obliquely. He had one of those penises where it was difficult to tell whether it was semi-erect, or it was in its normal state. It exuded a kind of silent persistent soft power that could be called to action at short notice. And when he moved, his penis did not sway. It maintained a kind of statuesque dignity.

I looked at Jane. This detail was not lost on her. Her eyes lingered on Cole in a swirl of curiosity and awe.

The spell broke when they sat down, partially obscured by the table-top. We chatted breezily as a casual Starbucks coffee party would. And that new dawn on the patio marked the start of a new chapter in the homestay.

DAY SEVEN AND EIGHT

We got comfortable with the new dynamics. The initial frisson simmered down to a pleasant equilibrium of humming sensual tranquility. Jane and I were at ease facing off Cole and Chloe, whether they were chilling on the patio lounger, or luxuriating on the lounge couch when we were watching TV.

Cole in his most exuberant state of flourish, notwithstanding his statuesque penis, was still within socially correct bounds, and on a few isolated occasions, only just so. How Cole managed this was a commendable feat in itself, being a relative newbie in the game, in the sublime company of a voluptuous naked woman, even if that was his sister, and a pair of well-turned legs.

DAY NINE

We were watching a late movie in the lounge. We were buoyed by good wine. As we had the patio door open, it was getting a tad chilly. It was OK for Jane and I because we were clothed. I asked Chloe and Cole if they were OK since they were in a state of nature. Cole said he was fine. Chloe said it was indeed a wee draughty, but it was still OK. Curiously, Chloe scooted over to her brother. She sat in front of him, pausing momentarily, as if giving him notice of her next move. She then lazed in front of him like he was a lounge chair, and then made some fine bodily adjustments. Brother and sister molded into a unified whole. Brother wrapped his arms around his sister's waist as if he was buckling her down in a seatbelt. He tightened his arms momentarily, and then relaxed them as if she was now secured.

Chloe cooed: "Thanks Cole, lovely..."

Cole then placed his right hand just above his sister's mound. His forefinger doodled on her silken skin in an algorithmic motion.

Jane turned to look at me with quivering arched eyebrows. I winked. I couldn't resist the tingle of the moment.

I teased: "Jane, are you warm and comfy?"

Jane glared at me with vengeance, and then grinned.

I went to the washroom. On my way, I dimmed the lounge lights. When I returned, I sidled next to Jane.

Muffled mewing noises emanated from the direction of Cole's and Chloe's couch. Light rustling movements.

Jane flashed me a questioning look. I shrugged.

Jane went to fetch some beers. When she returned, she lazed along the length of the couch. She rested her head on my lap. She had changed into a nude-colored camisole. A sheer brief number. I gazed down the length of her body. I had never seen my sister in anything less than a one-piece sensible swimsuit. This was a revelation. It was evident that Jane was braless. Jane had modest breasts. An outline soft rise of arc like that of a budding pubescent teen that promised bloom in the fullness of time.

I could see the top of her breasts. Her nipples were obscured by a crease in the camisole. My eyes drifted south. I could not be sure if she had panties on. Her hand rested gingerly on her crotch, as if restraining her restive hemline from drifting.

I was aroused by this intimacy. And by Chloe's and Cole's sensual allusions. I stiffened. Jane looked up. Our eyes locked momentarily. A muted bonding moment, although I didn't know of what. I brushed Jane's cheek. She returned her eyes to the TV screen. In the sedate quieter sequences of the movie, my hand stroked Jane's hair in a musical motion.

The movie ended. It was 1am. We were all heavy-eyed.

Jane and I watched Cole and Chloe with interest as they disentangled. Cole was in flourish. His shaft glistened in the soft light. Chloe's mound had a moist sheen. Was that a musty smell in the air? They said their goodnights and ambled to their room.

Jane and I got up. At my room door, she surprised me. She touched my hand and whispered. "Little sis needs to be cuddled to sleep tonight".

In the darkness of her room, I crashed on her bed. Jane cuddled up. Shortly, we drifted into transcendental slumber.

I dreamt I was sitting on a couch. A buxom luscious woman was sitting on my penis, facing away from me. I was thrusting her with strong deep strokes. In the midst of our passionate lovemaking, the woman turned to face me. It was Jane. I looked down at her body. It was as I had feared. Lissom. Supple. It was at that moment of agonizing rapture that I came. The woman flashed a wicked smirk.

DAY TEN

A cloud of dissonance. This was not my room. Then, I pleasantly remembered cuddling up with Jane. And vivid fragments of my dream.

The penthouse was empty. Jane was on her 5 kilometer dawn run. Cole and Chloe must be at the beach, or somewhere.

I had my espresso fix at the patio.

The day passed uneventfully. Jane chose not to discuss the events of the night before. I was happy to leave it at that. Alcohol. Palpable frisson instigated by Cole and Chloe. The late hour. Sleepiness. A perfect storm. We did what we did under the conspiring influence of these forces.

I caught up on some writing work that night in my room. And then hit the sack.

DAY ELEVEN

My cellphone chimed. It read 2am. A message from Jane. Hmmm... my girl next door. The one I grew up with. She wants to be cuddled to sleep again?

It read: Come over, this may interest you...

Jane's room was dark, save for a nightlight. She was seated at one end of her bay window cushioned lounging platform.

The bay window overlooked the patio, and beyond, the overhang of infinity pool. The window was coated with a film that permitted one-way vision from the room to the outside.

Jane was in her camisole. The same nude-colored short and sheer number. She sat with her right leg on the floor. Her left leg was on the seat, foot tucked beneath her right thigh. Her hemline dipped just below her crotch, deliciously only just so.

I couldn't make out if Jane wore undergarments. In the soft illumination of the sepia hued optics, Jane appeared naked.

I flopped beside Jane. I followed her intense gaze to the far corner of the pool. A submerged pool light illuminated the corner. A watery beacon in the night.

Cole sat languidly at the corner. Legs apart. His head was tossed back over the edge, precariously, in a kind of writhing agonized bliss. Chloe's head was bobbing in a harmonic motion at his crotch. The tantalizing pear outline of Chloe's torso was riveted down by her prominent sacral dimples.

Me: How long have they been at this?

Jane: I was closing my internet online trading to call it a night, when I heard light splashing noises. They were cuddling in the pool. Stargazing. I messaged you when Cole clambered onto the far corner ledge, and Chloe homed in on him, starting her ministrations.

Me: Hmmm... quite a show!

Jane: Do you think it is right that we should be watching this? Are we violating our guests' privacy?

Me (rationalizing): Hmmm... They could have done this in the privacy of their room. But, they chose to do this under moonlight, knowing that your window overlooks the pool. I don't know... Maybe there are some exhibitionist undercurrents simmering here? The clammy tangle intimacy on the couch the other night is a case in point. I am not going to agonize over this.

Jane nestled close to me in a sort of tacit agreement.

Me: Let's be good voyeurs. We do the needful, and enjoy this.

Jane (the freemarket investor): A freemarket of rational willing exhibitionists and willing voyeurs, he he!

Me: Let us swap positions. I know a position where we will both be comfy, as we view this spectacle.

I sat and leaned against the side of the bay window. I guided Jane to sit in front of me. I nudged her to recline on me. As if I was a lounger.

Jane (cheekily): Hmmm... I know this assemblage...

Chloe went through cycles of rapidfire oral pistoning ministrations, and then measured slo-mo. Her motor mouth was throttling her brother at whim. Cole was helpless pulp. Dramatic as this appeared, it seemed like a torturous rhythm that they were not altogether unattuned to.

Jane (squirming against me): Oh God! Chloe is merciless! And Cole is on the cusp of rapture.

And just when it looked like Cole was about to shoot the stars, Chloe stopped dead by some telepathic signal.

There was a flurry of body movement marked by soft lapping of water. Cole remained in his sitting position. Chloe hovered her buttocks over his crotch without contact. Brother and sister were facing us, but they couldn't see us because of our one-way window. We could see them clearly, courtesy of the underwater pool light which projected upwards. It was as if we were watching a compelling stage act, spotlight trained on the principal actors. Dreamlike, bordering on freakish.

For the first time tonight, we could see Cole's penis. Cole was true to form. His shaft remained its usual length, but now apparently more regally rigid. Even then, it pointed a taut forty-five, and not the custom true north ninety degrees.

Cole slithered his bulbous head along Chloe's pubescent gash, back and forth, in dramatic rapid, then slow cycles, returning his sister's earlier favor. This time, the tables were turned. His sister was vulnerable whimpering shuddering pulp before him.

Jane (hesitatingly): You know, I don't have alot of experience in these matters... Cole doesn't look very different from his normal to aroused state. And yet, his charge is palpable. This is personal. Tell me, are you like that?

Me: No. The opposite. From a weeny, worthy of a pubescent teen, to quite something else.

Jane: Hmmm... I struggle to imagine my big bro of 5 feet 10 inches, hulking over me, sporting a weeny. But, I will take your modest word for it.

Me: And since we are on this subject, Chloe's shorn lady part could pass off as a pubescent teen. A mere gash. Tell me, are you like that?

Jane: Hmmm... We are traipsing into uncharted topography. Since you have answered my question, I guess I have to answer yours. I am not mown. I guess I don't need to. Naturally minimalist.

Me: And, and...

Jane: I am somewhat the opposite of Chloe, but not quite...

Me: Huh?

Jane (sheepishly): My outers are puffed up. My inners, stashed away, never having seen light of day. Imagine an elongated heart shape, split right down the middle. There! I said it. The most intimate description of me ever.

We refocused our attention on Cole and Chloe. Cole had stopped gliding his shaft head along Chloe's slit. He now redirected his mast head to the top of his sister's slit, grinding this nether spot, again in alternating slow and tormenting rapid cycles. Chloe quivered, then shuddered into tremor.

Brother and sister cuddled as Chloe climbed down from her climax.

Chloe crept up, catlike, on the watery ledge. For a lush woman, she looked surprisingly supple. Cole positioned behind her rump. His hands cupped, then kneaded her pliant breasts. In an instant, Cole broke her hermetic seal.

Curiously, Cole froze. Chloe started shunting her rump back and forth, again in alternate bruising rapid, and tantalizing slow cycles. This seemed to be the tacitly agreed pattern, for every position of engagement.

The scene played out before Jane's and my eyes was surreal, to say the least. The side view of a brother and sister in passionate doggy engagement, illuminated by an upward spotlight that bore on their epicenter of coitus, water sloshing around their knees, on an overhang of edge, juxtaposed against a backlit screen of moonlit night sky.

And then in an apparent change of play script, Chloe froze. Cole took over. Again in alternating fast and slow thrust cycles. A sensually choreographed division of sibling labor.

Cole was building up to a peak. His thrusts became wild and forceful, bordering on savagery, as he emitted a spiel of guttural noises. An ascendant Chloe was mewing in a musical kittenspeak which spoke of urgency.

Brother and sister climaxed in harmony and in unison. The sibling tangled mass collapsed, and slipped off the watery ledge, thankfully on the pool, and not the dark abyss side, in a dramatic splash symbolic of their rapturous landing. They surfaced, and hugged each other in hot embrace.

Me: This is so hot!

Jane pulled me nervously to her futon bed. I laid on the bed. Jane stood before me, conflicted look on face, in her nominal camisole. She stood shyly in a demure knock-knee posture, her back to the bay window backlit night sky.

Jane (whispering): I want this is to be slow and memorable.

Me: You know, I won't have it any other way.

Jane: I don't think you are quite getting me...

Me: I'm not?

Jane: You see, you get the privilege to cherry pick tonight.

Me: What? You mean...

Jane placed her finger on my lips to

shush me. The unstated massive significance of the journey which we were about to embark on dawned on me. Once started, there would be no turning back. The journey would redefine who we were, to ourselves, and to each other. I was conflicted.

Me: Are you sure about this?

Jane: Is there anything more sure than a brother and a sister?

Me: You know, we can get comfortable, cuddle up, bond, and get to know each other better...

Jane pirouetted like a ballerina. Her hemline billowed to a peek-a-boo dance. I spied enticing glimpses of her lady part, and her buttocks.

Her genitals were as she had described earlier. Piquant heart of puffed pussy.

Her behind, firm and pert. Each buttock conspicuously separated. Each cheek defined. The kind one would expect on a limber athletic woman.

Long, slender, supple legs.

Jane spun down from her twirl. She crouched next to me. She peeled my boxers off. I was naked.

Jane (coyly): Now, let us have a look at that weeny you described so vividly.

Jane saw my raging erection.

Jane (mischievously): Hmmm... If this is the weeny, it petrifies me to think of the monstrosity it will become!

Me: You are a wee too late for the weeny show.

Jane: You are bigger than Cole. You are only the second manhood I have seen.

I lifted Jane's camisole. A vision of loveliness. Pretty face. Soft arc of pubescent breasts. Dainty puffed pussy. Cute ass. Killer legs. The antithesis to Chloe.

Me: Pirouette again.

Jane did just that. And more. Executed a perfect ballerina arabesque position. Stood on one leg. En pointe. The other leg turned out, extended behind her body. Both legs held straight in ninety degrees. Her slit gaped deliciously ever so slightly.

I whistled. Jane was pleased. We cuddled on the futon, enjoying our mutual warmth, and processing, unpacking the bridge too far, over the Rubicon, that we would be crossing.

As if she had made up her mind, Jane sat up cross-legged with her knees resting, one on my thigh, the other against the side of my chest. Her willowy nakedness was on full display. Soft arc of breasts. Thighs silky and sleek in the nightlight. Her wisps of pubic hair close enough to inspect, to see the few little droplets of moisture in it. I can smell her sex.

She didn't grab me. Not at first. She ran her fingernails experimentally up and down my penis slowly, softly. Her first touch. Then again. On one side. Then the other. She traced an imaginary axis line up to the bulbous head.

Jane: Your are pleasing to the eye, big bro.

She examined me closely. She bent down to look. She touched it.Jane (matter-of-factly): And this. This is so hard.

Me (jocularly): What is this? Biology lab?

She paid me no mind. Took it all in for a moment. She squeezed my penis a little. Stroked it. Feeling all around.

Me: Do you mind if I ask if this is your first, up close and personal?

Jane: Yes. I want it to be a long first time.

Me: It will be our long night's journey into day.

Jane: I love the way the skin stretches as you grow. The way the head gets bigger and bigger. Those first little drops of excitement. And the way your balls tighten up.

She cupped them like treasured objects with one hand.

Jane: Then, they loosen again, hanging down and swinging. Then tightening up.

Me: I didn't know you can be so poetic. On the venerable subject of balls.

Jane deftly used a finger to move them back and forth, fondling them, just slightly swinging them as if they were bells. All in slow motion. No hurry. A studious look on her face.

She halted. She grasped my penis with her whole hand. Held it there. Felt its thickness and hardness. Squeezed it ever so slightly every few seconds.

It was driving me closer to the edge. But, I could tell she was just getting a sense of my physicality. My feeling was indescribable.

With her thumb and index finger, she encircled my penis. Grabbed it right below the head, ascertaining its circumference.

Jane: Marvelous. A work of art.

Me: Now, you are making fun of me.

Jane: No. No. It is so beautiful. A life all its own. You can will it, and yet, it has a stubborn persistent will force of its own. Kind of like our free will. We have it for all intents and purposes, and yet, do we really? It is so you, and yet, not you. Spasming. Swaying. A poetic beast. It takes my breath away to watch how fabulous your body is.

Me: All this philosophy. All this metaphysics. This side of you... You surprise me, for an investor trader with a killer instinct.

Jane: Well, this is a night of surprises...And discovery.

She touched the tip of my penis with her index finger, teasing more drops to seep out. She rolled her finger in the liquid. She lightly spread the moistness over the head of my penis. Coating it. She leaned over for a closer look. I loved watching her breasts with her every move. Her undulating arcs. Her nipples, hard and pointed. They, too, seemed to have a life of their own.

She held my erection straight up, at a ninety-degree angle to my stomach. She wrapped her fingers around it. She began stroking. Then, slowly pumping up and down. I am slippery from my own fluids, and am in such a state. She bent over closer, her face hovering above the head of my penis. A saliva drop. Her finger smoothed her saliva around the head. Not that I needed extra lubrication. She was just having fun.

She pumped more. Up and down. Then, with her hand firmly at my base, she held it there, my shaft sticking straight up, like some spire. My penis wavered a little, leaked even more, the drops dribbling down my shaft. This would not take long. More pumping. My body jerked. I groaned. She froze. Stared at it. I spurted straight up, a good two feet. Then, a second spurt, even higher, falling down and landing on her knee. One or two more followed, falling back on her hand.

Jane: My God! Amazing! Simply amazing.

Me: I am sorry I came so fast.

Jane: I am not. It is a testament to my skills.

Me: Are you sure you are a newbie in this?

Jane: Are you alluding that I am a slut?

Me: No. Just that you are a natural. Your initial wonder, and tentative experimental exploration, is telling that this is your first manhood in the flesh.

Jane: Do you think this is sick?

Me: Probably, by societal norms. That said, consensual sibling sex is not illegal in some countries. Spain, Portugal, Netherlands, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Russia.

Jane: Hmmm... you seem to have researched this. But, the law and societal norms don't necessarily always align. What is legal, or not illegal, may be frowned upon by society.

Me: That is quite true. But regardless, I liked it. I can't begin to tell you how much I liked it.

Jane: Me too. And regardless, no one else needs to know. This is just about us. This makes societal norms tangential, if not irrelevant.

Some moments passed. Again, she lightly touched my penis.

Jane: And now it retreats. Losing all its power. Quiesced. Getting soft and quiet.

She traced an imaginary line down, around my balls, then took my flaccidness in her hand, as if it is a valuable artifact. She seemed to be emotional now. Her eyes watered.

Jane: But, even now, it is still so beautiful. Such a marvelous mystery.

We sat side by side for awhile reflecting on what had just transpired. In the aftermath, there was a creeping awkwardness between us. Quietly, Jane drew her legs up, turned sideways on the futon, and stretched them across my lap. She placed her head on my shoulder. We nuzzled.

Jane (low voice): We are going to break all the rules, tonight, aren't we? We are going to do this. It will be our secret.

I did not answer. I was doubly conflicted. One, that this was happening. Two, I would be my little sister's first. Jane had earlier shushed me on the latter. I had no wish to make her uncomfortable, and us, awkward.

I put my hand on her bare legs. I began caressing her soft skin. With just the tips of my fingers, I brushed, ever so slightly, down to her knees, then back up her thighs, higher, just short of her mound.

My sister slowly opened her legs wider on my lap. I stroked her thighs again, desiring to feel all the way to the silkiness of her mound. My fingers touched soft hair, even softer puffed lips, and the moist opening.

She laid down. Head on a scatter cushion. Legs still across my lap. She opened her legs wider. There was a raw nakedness to her. It sent a quiver to my very core.

I paused. Then, slid a finger inside her, gliding in easily, engulfed in warmth. Another finger. Withdrew my fingers slowly. My fingertips traced a light path around the edges of her opening. Everywhere I touched was glistening in warm moisture. My fingers glided all around. I loved her slightly sticky wetness. Through the dim nightlight, I saw her studying my face.

I wanted to go fast. To mount her and take her with abandon. Like a teenaged boy sowing his wild oats first time. But, I resisted. This should last. Go slow. Take our time. The night too precious to waste by hot haste. We would go by our plan. A long night's journey into day.

I traced the soft opening and those most secret small hidden lips with my fingers. I quickly grew to love that. I inhaled her sex as more liquid coated my fingers, and dribbled down into the crevice of her buttocks. Not without difficulty, I found her clitoris. I played softly with it. I caressed it experimentally until I discovered what brought a reaction. Moving my thumb across her clit, then back down. That worked. Sighs. Shudders. My sister moved one of her hands down to the slight bulge of her mons and her pubic hair. She began caressing herself there, just above my thumb. We were in tandem. Heavier breathing. More shudders.

My two fingers were still inside Jane, moving in and out slowly. My thumb up and down on her clit. I let my little finger slip down, below to the crevice. Found the opening to her anus. Small, moist, oily. Rubbed my finger around it. Pushed on it a little. Breathing heavier now. My thumb, fingers all moving in steady, slow rhythm, in and out, back and forth, pushing into both her openings. All in one back-and-forth motion. Slow. Over and over again.

And then, a sequence of shudders and low groans. Stronger, convulsing. Pelvis undulating.

Jane curled up in my lap. Hair ruffled, skin warm, face flush. She grew quiet. Tender and soft.

I strayed my hands over her. From her shoulders. Down the back. To her haunches. Toward those dark, secret places. They were still warm and wet. She was perched on my lap. My erection poked up between her legs. She touched it. Stroked it. Held my balls. Gathered the liquid from the head of my penis with her fingers, brought them to her lips. Then, held my erection.

Jane: So powerful. So strong. You could split me asunder.

Me: I would never.

Jane: This is what is so amazing. You could really hurt me bad. But, I know you won't.

She ran her fingers around the head of my penis. Played with the gathering droplets. I fought for control.

Jane: A little terrifying.

Me: Actually, in the locker room parade, I am just average.

Jane: No, no. Don't tease. It is really frightening. But, beautiful. With you inside of me, I could really lose myself.

She pulled my face to hers. We kissed. Her lips tasted a little salty. Just lips lightly against lips. She stuck her tongue out. Traced it around my lips. Slipped it into my mouth. Tongues exploring tongues. Warmth spreading. Somehow, it didn't seem strange. I thought of her not as my sis, but as Jane. This lovely woman, this girl next door, I had known all my life. But, in an instant, I do think of her as my sister. I couldn't help it. So unreal. Like a dream. Lovely. But wanton. Lewd. Depraved. Perverted.

Our legs entwined. Lips in motion everywhere.

Jane laid on her back. Arms stretched out beyond her head. An act of surrender.

Jane: Suck my nipples. Bite them. Make them hurt.

Take me, she was screaming silently. Her nipples were thick once again, and painfully pointed. Her areola soft and puffy. I sucked them, bit down, burrowed my face into them. Faint gurgling in her throat.

I reached down. Pulled her knees up to her chest. Moved my face down, kissing it, licking, smelling it, the smell that I knew will be with me from this day on. My tongue caressed, darted inside her and back out. Found her clit again. Back and forth over it, this time with the tip of my tongue. She came on my face. A little orgasm. But even after, there was liquid pouring out onto my nose and cheeks.

Her passion escalated. My head was clamped between her thighs. She began squeezing wildly as a second orgasm neared. This one evidently harder, stronger. She squeezed my head harder. Was she going to crush my skull? Finally, she groaned. Relaxed. Wiped her hair out of her eyes.

Jane (pleading softly): Come in me, big bro. Come in me. Now.

Her pussy. Tender, vulnerable. I put the head of my penis at its entrance. Moved in some. Back out. Her first. Her slit seemed small.

I started again. Slowly. Slowly. Slid half way in, then back out. Then a little farther. Now, a final push. All the way in. A transcending sharp muted shriek marked the moment that would redefine who we were.

I pulled her knees back down around my waist. She wrapped her long legs around me.

I began moving in and out. Kind of at an angle. A slow rhythm. Took it slow. The side of my face against the side of hers. Our bodies sweating, hair wet.The smell of us all around. I moved back and forth.

Jane (whispering): We will never tell. Our little secret. Always. We will keep our secrets.

Out the bay window, the first streaks of light of day crept up the far horizon.

I kept the rhythm inside her. I lifted up on my arms for a few seconds. Sweat dripped down my chest, dropping onto her breasts, mixing with her own. Her nipples covered in sweat. Our eyes locked in the dimness. The look from her was impossibly one of agony and exhilaration, in equal measures.

I fell back down atop her. Still moving in her, back and forth. She whimpered into my ear in a mewing kittenspeak.

I began moving faster, picking up pace. Her breathing labored to keep up. We were getting close.

We groaned. Her legs still around my waist, squeezing. I felt muscles deep in her pussy clamping me. Squeezing it. But, I was not about to give in to it. I was too hard, too strong to surrender. Not just yet. I pushed. Felt that I have reached the end of her insides. She groaned loudly for the first time, in what must be a little stab of pain. Back and forth, in a spacetime of our own.

My sister yelled my name. I was spewing warmth. She wailed into the new dawn air.

Jane (pensively): This will be our only time.

Me: The best things... they come in singular instances.

DAY TWELVE

Patio. Brilliant morning.

Chloe: All too soon, our stay is drawing to a close. We will be departing tomorrow. The weather is heavenly. Cole and I plan to have a picnic on the coral island this morning. Would you like to join us?

Jane: We will love to. Let us pack a picnic. It is a weekday today. We will have the coral island to ourselves.

John: For the swim to the coral island, we have a waterproof bag for the picnic stuff, cellphones, cameras and whatever.

Cole: That's great! I will pack my DSLR camera. Last opportunity for us to snap some quality pictures besides the cellphone selfies and wefies.

We trooped down from the penthouse to the condominium garden. Chloe was in her usual skimpy bikini. Cole in his thong brief, his cock sock. But, he had wrapped a towel around his waist to lend a modicum of modesty in case we met other condominium residents in the common areas. I was in my speedo. By normal standards, it was brief. But, held against Cole's costume, it was pedestrian. Jane was in her one-piece. She was overdressed. Dressed to the nine, in modesty.

At the entry access to the cliff path, we stooped and entered a kind of hollowed lair sanctum in the tangle of high bushes. The quintessential secret passage. The only missing feature was having to whisper a secret codeword three times to enter. Once inside, we moved a few metres into the hollowed obscurity to the left, and exited through an opening. Voila! The elusive cliff path. It snaked down giddily to the cove. Jane was particularly nimble-footed negotiating the path. A combination of familiarity and the lithe athlete in her. Shortly, we landed at the cove. Not a soul.

A craggy arc of forbidding cliff face bounded by austere rocks at each end jealously guarded the beach. A soft shelter of greenery. Eighteen feet of beach. Pristine fine white sand filtered through our toes, pampering our feet. The picture postcard coral island shimmered in pristine waters a mere hundred metres offshore. A world unto itself.

Cole crashed dramatically on the sand relishing its softness. We rested at the cove enjoying its tranquility.

We started our 100 meter swim to the coral island. Two pool lengths equivalent. Chloe and Jane swam ahead. Cole and I took turns to lug the waterproof bag. Shortly, we arrived at the land-facing rocky side of the island. We picked our way across to the ocean-facing side.

We arrived at the beach. Again, not a soul. Where the cove had a secluded, cocooned, cosy ambience, this open beach stared defiantly into the ocean. A gear shift in mood. The sand was even more pristine than at the cove. The far horizon of the ocean gave a sense of austere remoteness and solitude.

We crashed on the snow sand in euphoric exhaustion. After five minutes of processing the imagery before our eyes, we got down to unpacking our waterproof bag stash, and setup our picnic.

We lazed on the beach towel groundsheet. Cole and Chloe on on side facing off Jane and I on the other.

Chloe: This is so lovely. John, Jane, I do so envy you. You can do this every single day of the year.

Me: Chloe, Cole, you know, Jane and I are cool if you like to be your usual au naturel selves. This is your last call to soak in the rays, to make your tans complete. And this morning is just brilliant.

Jane: Yes. It will be no different from when we are in the penthouse.

Chloe: This is very kind of you. We will do just that.

Chloe stood up. In a semblance of ritual modesty, she faced away. Curiously, Cole went behind his sister. He unfastened her back-clasp bikini top. His next move surprised us even more. He knelt in front of his sister. He hooked his fingers on her nominal thong, and then, perfunctorily, pulled it down, as Chloe held his shoulder to balance herself on the uneven sand. She leveraged herself on Cole's shoulder as she lifted one foot, then the other, to take off her thong. For a few seconds, Chloe's silken mound was inches from her brother's face. Then, as Chloe pivoted her torso, she inadvertently grazed her mound against Cole's cheek.

Chloe (quipping): Oh, I don't know what I'll do without Cole. No sister should be without a bro like him.

In a similar customary modicum of modesty, Cole turned away from us. In a reversal of roles, Chloe knelt in front of Cole as if in veneration of an Adonis god, hooked her fingers at the top of his thong, then, drew it down with rapt attention in what was a delicate extrication operation, and when past the critical point, pulled it down in a single flurry of motion.

The siblings faced us in their full glory. An imagery that Jane and I were not unfamiliar with. But at this coral island beach, on this brilliant morning, there was a renewal of our senses, and an expectant air of new possibilities.

Chloe sat on the sand towel facing us. Her hands propped her torso up in a slightly reclined languid posture. Breasts with just the right sag. Her left leg was stretched straight out, toes pointed. Her right leg was bent, coquettishly, calf tucked below her left thigh. Her silken mound displayed no evidence of slit. This feminine charm was artfully stashed away low on her mound. A curious bodily concoction. Buxom and nubile. Mature and pubescent. Ballerina and go-go dancer.

Cole's right leg extended straight out. His left leg raised and bent. His chin rested on his left knee, as if in contemplation of something deeply profound. His penis rested on his right thigh. Well, not quite. It appeared levitated ever so slightly over his thigh in his trademark permanently semi-erect state.

Wine. A silky social lubricant. We talked about their holiday experience with us. We meandered on about Jane's and my life on this coast. Their travel experiences. Our travel experiences. Our homestay hosting experiences. The Arts. The inane politics of our day. And then...

Chloe: You must have wondered about Cole and I?

Me: We can see that you are close...

Chloe: That would be the politest understatement of the year. Even though there is a 5-year gap between our ages, we were close growing up together in the southern English countryside. And then marriage, family responsibilities, mortgages, kids' education crept up and commandeered us. So, this holiday has been a heaven-sent opportunity for Cole and I to reconnect. To recapture a bit of our sibling intimacy. Such felicity is rare. We have to live it fully as it presents itself.

Jane and I instinctively gazed at Cole. We didn't quite expect him to stamp his foot on the sand and bellow "Hear, hear!", but that he would say something. He did not disappoint.

Cole (languidly): Indeed, we had happy memories. Chloe being five years ahead on the curve was a lovely elder sis in my angsty growing up years.

Jane: Well, John and I are glad that we have contributed to your rebonding in our small way.

Cole got up. It was getting warm. He wanted to get into the water to cool some. He extended his hand to his sister. He playfully scooped her up in one swoop, and carried her over the threshold of shoreline, into the inviting turquoise. They splashed and frolicked like newly unleashed teens, and then locked into embrace.

Me: Should we join them?

Jane: I have been thinking about it. I feel farcically overdressed in my one-piece.

Me: Well, I meant joining them in the water.

Jane (somewhat embarrassed): Oh!

Me: But, yes, what you have said has crossed my mind too. I am comfortable going nude with them if you are. There is no compulsion on us of course. But, it seems so right in the context we are in right now. This seclusion. Brilliant sunshine. Trustworthy guests who have warmed up to be our friends. Remember our homestay business objective of broadening our lived experience? This is one such moment.

Jane: Let me think about it for a sec.

Me: What's there to think?

Jane (reticently): Hmmm... I am not Chloe...

Me: But, of course you are not. As I am not Cole.

Jane (sheepishly): Chloe is buxom and lush. I am everything she is not.

Me: Ah! Now, I see the source of anxiety. Jane, you are hot. My reaction the other night is compelling testimony.

Jane: You are hopelessly biased.

Me: Now, you may, or may not know this. I have observed Cole checking you out whenever you hover within range. And I would observe him quiver. You remember Cole's wife from the social media picture?

Jane: Yes, the slender, petite woman...

Me: Cole has a range of aesthetic interests. Like all men. Like me.

Jane (embarrassed): I am not going naked so as to be ogled at by Cole, to feed my exhibitionist impulses, and to feed Cole's, and possibly your voyeur instincts.

Me: I am not saying that! I am saying that you may not fully understand what moves men in these matters. Jane, you are lovely! A hot babe! And that's that!

Jane: Are you feeding your inner simmering brew of exhibitionist and voyeuristic tendencies in wanting to display your sister to another man, and then, watching the effects?

Me: Hmmm... We hear plenty on husbands desiring to exhibit their wives to feed their E and V pangs. But, a bro exhibiting his sis?

Jane: Hmmm... I guess it does sound odd.

Me: Jane, we are over-analyzing this! It is simply this. People go nude, skinny dip, when there is a perfect storm of opportunity and spontaneity. They do this to enjoy the primal tingle of sun, sea and wind caressing their skins. And if there is a degree of harmless frisson in all this, why not stir it in.

Jane stood up. My sis was over-analytical, but incisively decisive. She pulled the straps off her shoulder, and then peeled her suit to her ankles. It was the first time I have seen my sister naked in daylight. Her nipples stood out with conviction. She was a sight to behold. Willowy, svelte, clean-limbed.

There was a hearty cheer from Cole and Chloe, to celebrate our connection, in a sort of siblinghood esprit de corps.

I turned away from the shoreline to lose my speedo. Jane surprised us all. She knelt before me, as Chloe did for Cole. She peeled my speedo down, tentatively and slowly at first, liberating my erect penis from suffocating captivity. My phallus slapped her cheek on its upswing to freedom. Jane emitted an exaggerated "Ouch!" She added, "Is that what I get for freeing you from captivity, you prick!" In an apparent act of forgiveness, she patted my engorged penis, followed through with a casual loving caress. It was unclear if Cole and Chloe saw any of this charade, given that I was facing away from them.

We joined Cole and Chloe in the water. Jane and I, sort of, decided on the spot, that we would take liberty with flirting bodily with Cole and Chloe. But, we would draw the line at anything sexual.

Cole initially appeared focused on checking out my sister through the clear but filmy turquoise water. After awhile, and not for the lack of perseverance, he decided that there would be ample opportunities for this later.

Our horseplay started innocently enough. Brother-sister goofing around. Splashing water. Upending each other. This culminated in the obligatory horse fight. Jane mounted my shoulders, as did Chloe on Cole. I felt a rush as Jane's mound grazed the back of my neck. Was it my imagination, or did Jane tighten her genital grip on my neck? I experienced a fleeting tingle when Chloe's gash grinned impishly, ever so slightly, when she mounted Cole.

After our initial bodily adjustments, we engaged in spirited competitive horseplay battle. Team JJ, Jane-John, was overly dominant. It was suggested that we should swap in the next battle series.

I watched Jane mounting Cole with trepidation. Once so installed, she appeared relaxed. As she steadied her balance on Cole's shoulders, she tightened then released her grip on Cole a few times.

In contrast, Chloe was totally at ease mounting me. The grazing of her lush body against mine, and then the ample fleshy engagement, the skin in the game, sent quivers, then shudders, through me.

After the horseplay, we lazed on the shoreline shooting the breeze.

Jane: Let's chill here awhile. In another fifteen minutes, the waves will crash on strong at the end of this beach. We can then do some "Wave Slamming".

Cole: Wave Slamming?

Me: This is a term that Jane and I coined. There is this natural phenomenon at the end of this beach, due to geographical or whatever cosmic reasons, something to do with crossing wave paths, where at a particular time each day, at a particular beach point, waves would crash on the beach. The waves are strong enough for fun and frolic, but not so strong as to be dangerous. The resultant wave undertow is strong enough to tip us over, but not so strong as to suck us out to sea.

Jane: One person, ideally the taller one, stands behind the other as a sort of backstop. The backstop wraps his or her arms around the person in front, lifts the person up. They face-off the onrush wall of wave that comes crashing on them. And then, experience the undertow of the wave. You have to experience it, to describe it with poetic justice.

Cole: Hmmm... sounds like good fun!

Jane: There is a certain technique to engage the onrushing waves, which John and I have refined over time through trial and error dunking. Almost an art form. Let us do this. I suggest that John pair with Chloe, and me, Cole. The experienced with the newbie.

Chloe: Sounds good! I am not a strong swimmer. So, it is reassuring that John will be by my side. Maybe John will be my savior from the tempestuous forces of nature.

And then, it was time. We made our way to the end of the beach.

A big wave lifted and tossed us giving us a watery foretaste of what was to come. The waves got bigger as we moved farther down the shore. We were at an area where the waves were crashing harder as the bottom shallowed up. The side effect was that as the water got shallower, it hid less of our nudity.

By the time we got to where the waves seemed to grow the highest, the troughs of the waves were exposing us down to the thighs, exposing our genitals. Each wave that lifted and tossed us, set us back down in time for a quick glimpse of our naked bodies, before the next wave covered us again.

Chloe squealed and shrieked playfully as the waves lifted her, body and spirit, working herself deeper into the surf after a few minutes.

I told Chloe that we would watch over Cole and Jane over a few wave cycles, to make sure that they got into the groove, and were safe, before we got started. Chloe could also learn from her observation, so that it would be that much easier for us later.

Jane instructed Cole to grab her waist, and lift her as the wave came.

The wave lifted Jane till her feet were in the air. Jane practically slid down the back side of the wave. The wave washed Jane's back to Cole, bumping her back into him, until she put her feet down again.

We continued to observe Jane and Cole. The next wave came, lifted Jane up easily and practically over the wave, her naked ass completely exposed over the top of the wave, before Cole let her slide down the back side of the wave, her back rubbing down Cole's chest as he tried to hold his balance.

Jane and Cole seemed to be getting the hang of it. Naturals. I thought I will observe them one more cycle before I got started with Chloe.

This time, I noticed Cole had a raging erection, probably from the tingle of body contact. Uncharacteristically, his shaft was pointing straight up. This detail did not escape Chloe's notice. Chloe looked at me knowingly, then winked. As Cole tightened his grip on Jane's waist, his shaft melted into their body tangle. Jane glanced back at Cole momentarily, and then the wave, a big one, crashed on them. When the wave receded, Jane was lying on Cole in a tangled heap. As Jane lifted off Cole, his shaft, thus released, re-emerged with renewed vigor. Cole's eyes lasered on Jane's pussy undulations as she raised herself up.

Me: Looks like they are doing famously.

Chloe: And having a jolly good time at that.

Me: Now, it's our turn. You know the drill?

Chloe: Hmmm... Drill? Yes, I am looking forward to it!

Chloe stood in front of me. I wrapped an arm around Chloe's waist. I barely noticed the feeling of my penis pressing against her bare rump. Her hand moved mine from her waist up to her breasts, as if to better secure her.

I felt Chloe bounce herself up as the wave assaulted us. Her hand pushed against my penis as she slid back down my body with the receding wave. I felt my engorged head pressed against her pussy, and then completely slid up into her as she spread her feet on the sandy bottom. I had entered her, if only for an instant! I glanced at Jane and Cole. They were preoccupied with their own moment.

"Oh yesssss!" Chloe giggled as the next wave lifted us together, sliding her up my shaft. And then, gravity dropping her down on me again. Her legs came together to trap me inside her.

"Oh damn," I groaned softly as I held her with my arm around her, holding one pliant breast. The waves lifted her up and down my shaft as we stood waist deep in the water. I briefly wondered if Cole had tried something similar with my sister, and decided that if he did, Jane would have kicked him between the legs by now.

Me (intentionally letting Chloe rise and slide off my penis with the next wave): We shouldn't be doing this.

Chloe: It is not us. It is the waves. We are at their tender mercies. Come on. Let's go get your sister and Cole. We take a break.

Chloe turned away and called for Cole to come on in, and bring Jane. I was a bit surprised to see my sister wading hand in hand with Cole. I stole a glance at Chloe. I detected what I thought was a fleeting pout, that quickly creased into smile. I instinctively reached out to hold Chloe's hand. She squeezed my hand as we waded in.

Me (addressing Jane over the waves as she got closer): Having fun?

Jane: Yeah, I was. That was fun. I've never been lifted over the waves like that.

Jane (half turning to Cole): Thanks, Cole! You are a natural at this. If I don't know better, I would say that you have been doing this all your life.

Cole answered, clearly wanting to say more, but stopping short.

Cole: My pleasure! And you, sis?

Chloe: I had a great time too! Once we got into the groove, it was an exhilarating experience. And John is a lovely partner. I can appreciate why Jane and John christened this Wave Slamming, although parts of it are not so christian, he he! This is an excellent way to round off a memorable homestay experience.

More wine. Lazing around. We had time. We had got to the point of losing our petty inhibitions, in body and speech. Washed away in the waves.

Chloe was sitting with her legs apart. Her luscious breasts were in sharp contrast to the epicenter of attention that was her pubescent pussy. Her hint of slit barely peeked above the ground towel. If there was a close-up vaginal picture of her nether region, it could pass off as that of a newborn. This image brought back monochromed memories of a bygone era when nudist movement magazines were a valued commodity. The pictures featured airbrushed scrupulously pristine mounds. And the lady subjects were almost always lush.

Jane sat with her right leg extended straight out, toes pointed, flat on the ground towel. She angled her left leg flat on the towel, then tucked her left foot beneath her right thigh. Her mons pubis was exposed. Rise of soft labia. No evidence of inners. Her slit appeared hermetically sealed. Wisps of hair completed the composition. Artfully revealed without being lewd. There was a light glisten to her mound. It was not clear if it was the residual sheen of the sea, or something else. Jane leaned on me, which had the effect of displaying more of her nether charms.

Cole sat with his legs apart, extended out. Trademark statuesque semi-erection.

I sat with my left leg extended out straight. My right leg raised, and bent at knee. Torso slightly reclined. True to form, my penis was a shriveled weeny, in sharp contrast to Cole's. But, I was cool. It was what it was. As my sister had observed, at its most exuberant, it was quite formidable.

Chloe: If I may be so forward here, aren't we a study of sharp biodiversity contrasts?

Me: How so?

Chloe: This is somewhat awkward to say out loud. But, now that we have gotten more comfortable with each other, I guess we can be more openly nuanced about it. To begin with, self-evidently, Cole are I are middle-aged. Mature. I am a two-time granny. Practically a venerable matriach. You are in your thirties. Vital, trim, high-energy and dynamic.

Jane (politely): Well, you and Cole are borderline mature. You are both in great shape. And Chloe, I would kill to have your lush figure. You are sooooo sexy. Comely. That was why I thought long and hard earlier before John and I joined you guys skinny-dipping. I felt so inadequate alongside your lush. In fact, I still do.

Cole (uncharacteristically): Poppycock, Jane! You are lovely! If I can be forward and bold here. You have a pretty face. I admire your svelte form. Perky breasts. Standout nipples. Pert arse orbs which stick out just about right. Killer supple legs. You have a sexy body.

Jane edged over to kiss Cole lightly on his cheek.

Jane: Wow, Cole! This is the most you have said in a single breath in your two weeks here. That was quite a speech. You are sweet. You made my day.

Chloe: This man speaks the truth. His wife has Jane's form and demeanor. This man knows his aesthetics. John, you have been awfully muted. So, what do you think of Jane and I?

Me: It is awkward for me to discuss my homestay guests and my sister. But, in the spirit of our new candor, let me try. I couldn't agree more with Cole's assessment of my sister. She is one hot babe, if a brother is allowed to say that of his sister without awkwardness. Firstly, I have to declare that I am a leg man. My fave bits of my sister are her pretty face, and her well-turned legs. The rest of her body nicely complements these good points. Chloe is alluring in a different way. She has a lush womanly body with a pubescent lady part. Lush and nubile. Mature and pubescent. And my being a leg man, needless to say, I like her luscious legs.

Chloe: Can you elaborate on my pubescent lady part? This is the first time anyone has described me that way. Intriguing.

Me: Hmmm... I am not sure I want to go there... It can get awkward.

Chloe: Just go. We are all friends here. All adults here. And if we are discussing my pubescence, it must be pristine stuff, he he!

Me: Well, your vagina slit is a mere gash. It starts from low on your mound. From a distance, it looks, curiously, like you have no slit. As if the slit had been airbrushed. You look the part of a schoolgirl. This contrasts sharply with your lush body. At the risk of crossing the line, and I am getting graphic here, where I had expected to see a flowering of petals, I saw an incidental gash.

Chloe: Is that a good or bad thing?

Me: Good. It adds a zest of mysterious allure to your being. A sort of lush schoolgirl. A sensual curve ball. Cole, since we are discussing our sisters, what do you think?

Cole: Errr... It's awkward...

Jane: Cole, go on. Just as John has commented on Chloe, I am keen to hear from you.

Cole: I like mounds which are shaven, or lightly wispy. I like genitals which are not lurid. Kind of like minimistically easy on the eye. Inners stashed away unseen. I like an ever so subtle display of outer labias. A wee puffed up, but not vulgarly swollen. I agree with John on the allure of Chloe's schoolgirly pubescence, in the midst of lush. Jane's best fits my ideal lady part. My wife is that way too. I am always piqued by how the inners are stashed inside such that there is no outward hint of them.

Me: If I may jump in here, I feel the same way as Cole. With the kind of lady part that Cole has described, you get a sort of layered mystery allure. The allure of seeing the mound. And then, the deeper allure of the inner treasure within.

Chloe (coyly): Hmmm... Jane, do you get a sense that our brothers are making an oblique request to us.

Jane (sheepishly): Hmmm... I do. And I don't know what to say...

Chloe (addressing Cole and John): I am speaking for myself here. I am happy to address the intimate question that you didn't ask. The deal here is that when we meander on to discuss your privates, both of you must address Jane's and my questions. Is that a deal, guys?

Cole: Cool!

Me: I am cool!

Chloe sat up. She leaned back, and spread her legs. She executed this elegantly, classic Chloesque, without appearing lewd. Tasteful classy lite boudoir.

Chloe: Now, boys, don't be bashful. In any other pubescent foray, you will end up in jail!

Chloe gave us time to study her mound. This was the first time I saw her intimately up close, without furtive tension. I looked at Cole. He had the same wide-eyed awe as I had.

Chloe then parted her slit ever so slightly with her finger. First, one side, then, the other. A miniscule slim ridge of labia minora.

Chloe: Cole, would you be a dear. I can't see. Can you help me raise my clitoral hood.

Cole moved forward. He lifted her hood, and gave her clit a delicate finger massage, before revealing the glistening nub.

Jane gave me an astounded look, and then, creased into smirk.

Me: Chloe, you are lovely!

Jane: I think it is only fair that I am in this too, if the three of you are.

Chloe: Jane, you don't have to do this.

Jane: But, Chloe, I want to. You know, I was a gymnast and ballet dancer in my young days. So, I will give you a performance, that is, if my body is still in a cooperative mood.

Jane (facing and addressing Cole and John): This is a private command performance, on this beach, just for you gentlemen.

Her first pose was the classic ballerina arabesque. Right leg standing straight up, toes pointed, pivoted on ground. En pointe. Left leg extended backwards straight out, ninety degrees to right leg. Right arm extended straight up.

Second pose. A variation of the first. As before, right leg standing straight up, toes pointed, pivoted on ground. Left leg and left arm extended in parallel straight up, hand clutching ankle, to lock in the pose. Right and left legs were impossibly extended in a near straight vertical line. Jane was breathtakingly spectacular in this position. The sheer difficulty of the pose. The stunning imagery it conjured. I looked for the intimate signs that would answer Cole's question. There it was! A subtle wavering blade of labia minora, frozen in a moment of spacetime. I gazed at Cole. Awestruck.

Third pose. This looked more gymnastics than dance, though being a philistine, I couldn't be sure. Jane was in a crouched position facing us. She then raised her left leg until it was in an impossibly near vertical position, toes pointed. In any other similar situation, this scene would have come across as crass, if not vulgar. What was before us was artistic athleticism. If there were any unanswered bits to Cole's question, this pose addressed it all.

Fourth pose. More dance than gym. Jane faced away from us. Lovely posterior. Maintaining both legs together straight, body bent down impossibly low. Left hand grabbed right ankle, to lockdown the pose. A teasing exposé of labia majorca, slightly agape, but betraying nothing.

Final pose. A graduated variation of the fourth. As before, Jane faced away from us, both legs straight together, body bent down low, left hand grabbing right ankle, to lockdown the pose. Jane slid her legs apart whilst maintaining them straight. She grazed her cheek against the side of her lower thigh, peering back coquettishly at us. Her left hand continued to grab her right ankle. Hmmm... was this my sister? What a transformation in a space of two weeks!Cole: Lovely, so lovely!

Chloe: This is an unexpected treat! Bravo! Jane, you are lovely. Athleticism, grace and sensuality. A potent mix.

We talked about Jane's dance interest for awhile. I split another bottle of Chardonnay.

Chloe: Jane, tell us, what do you think of Cole's penis.

Jane (gazing over at Cole): Hmmm... Cole's penis carries a statuesque dignified air. It appears to be in a persistent semi-erect state. Of course, I can't know if Cole is indeed semi-erect. When Cole moves, his penis does not sway nor swing as flaccid penises do. It remains regally dignified. An enigma. I do wonder what is Cole's normal state, and when he is full flourish, what would that state be like.

Chloe: Cole, why don't you help Jane demystify the enigma. Perhaps I can help...

Chloe motioned Jane to move over to Cole. Chloe held up her brother's shaft, which was in its usual ambivalent state, without awkwardness.

Chloe: Firstly, Jane, I wish to introduce you to Mister Stringy.

Jane (surprised): Mister Stringy? Cole is anything but stringy.

Chloe pointed at, then, ran her finger along a thick vein that ran a good length of his penis.

Chloe: Jane, say hello to Mister Stringy. I always liked this thick vein. Sometimes when I hold him like this, I can actually feel a pulse there.

Jane: Intriguing!

Cole: Well, if this is a "before" and "after" test of the pudding, then, what is before you now is "before".

Chloe: Jane, have a feel. It will help you to tell the difference later.

Jane was hesitant. Chloe gently took her hand. She held Jane's hand and glided it along his shaft.

Chloe: How does it feel?

Jane: As Cole looks. Semi-erect.

Cole turned away from Jane and Chloe. He began stroking his shaft.

Chloe: Jane, do you mind if Cole engages us. We do want to observe how he is getting along.

Jane: I am OK if Cole doesn't mind.

Cole: I am cool. Actually, it helps...

Cole pumped his shaft, gently at first, then, picking up.

Cole: I am almost there...

Chloe: Jane, let's help Cole go that extra mile.

Chloe stroked her brother, matter-of-factly, with her right hand. Curiously, her left hand guided Cole's hand to her breast. Cole caressed his sister's breasts, his tempo in calibration to his sister's strokes.

Chloe: Jane, I think Cole is just about there. Cop a feel.

Jane hesitated. Chloe lifted her hand, placed it on Cole. She guided Jane's hand along his length.

Chloe: Jane, squeeze Cole to fully ascertain him.

Jane: Oh dear! It is so different! Looks deceive. Now, I know!

Chloe: It is callously cruel to bring Cole so far, and leave him dangling high and dry, when he is so near. Let's put Cole out of the trauma that we put him in. Let's make this interesting.

Jane: How?

Chloe: A game... We take turns to give Cole five strokes. The winner is declared when Cole signals so.

Jane: Oh god!

Chloe (jocularly): Let the games begin! Jane, you go first!

This appealed to Jane's competitive spirit. It went Jane, Chloe, Jane, Chloe, and then Cole declared the winner at the first stroke of Jane's turn. It was that close.

Chloe (magnanimously): You did it!

Jane (jocularly): Teamwork did it. I couldn't have pulled it off without you.

Cole (emerging from his stupor): I'm the winner!

Laughter permeated the desolate beach, wafting into the far horizon.

Chloe looked somberly towards me.

Chloe: John, it's down to you now. You are an enigma too, but in a completely different manner from Cole. While Cole has a sort of consistency in his demeanor, whereas you go from zero to hero. It looks like you are zero now.

Me: I am.

Chloe: You know the drill...

Me: Errr... will I be getting help as Cole did? I should not be unduly disadvantaged.

Chloe: Hmmm... we'll see...

I started stroking myself, ratcheting up the momentum. I grew. And grew.

Chloe: Oh my god! Boy! How you have grown!

I was near the length of Cole. My sister, the rah rah competitive one, dismissed my hand, to take charge. She pumped me mercilessly with a passionate sisterly pride that terrified me. And when it was apparent that I had overextended Cole, she halted her ministration.

Jane (uncharacteristically): Chloe, your go. Your fiver!

Chloe: Oh dear!

And so it swung relentlessly. Jane, Chloe, Jane, Chloe. Each switch of hand gave me a respite, prolonging my ecstatic agony. Mercifully, at Chloe's second stroke after I lost count of the handoffs, I imploded, then exploded, creaming Chloe's freckled chest.

Jane (magnanimously): Chloe, you are the winner this time. We are even.

Chloe: Well, John is the winner! As was Cole.

Me: We are all winners!

There was a palpable expectant air that we could simmer the frisson to boil. But, somehow, when the ozone lifted, we came to a collective silent accord that this was just right. The sustaining charm was in our not going the whole way.

DAY THIRTEEN

Cole and Chloe checked out early morning. They had a long day's journey into night, to their home.

One of the objectives of our homestay business was to broaden our lived experience, wherever it may range. And Jane and I did.

EPILOGUE

Jane and I stayed faithful to ourselves. We never did scale that level of intimacy again. We had enjoyed our experience without being appropriated by it, so that we might relish it forever.

Six months after Cole's and Chloe's homestay, Jane met someone, as I did a month later. We sold our penthouse, and moved on.

The End