The Siblings: chapter 4, The First Time

This is the fourth chapter. In it, they finally have sex, but it’s done in a way that shows the love they both share. It’s a bit more erotic than the previous two, but it’s also a short chapter. Read, enjoy, and PLEASE COMMENT. Thanks.
I own nothing. All belongs to Michael K. Smith.
Also, I’m assuming here hymen was broken during masturbation, so don’t complain that it isn’t mentioned. K?
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The First Time
by Michael K. Smith







[From Chapter 6; set in 1972; he’s 17, she’s 16.]



Alex and I went through a period of anxiety and self-doubt between Christmas and the New Year. In barely a week, I would be sixteen and she fifteen — old enough to marry in some states with parental consent. Our relationship had evolved so gradually that neither of us had felt any pressure about it. It was like taking a slow stroll through rising hills and coming abruptly to a halt at the brink of an unexpected chasm. We suddenly were realizing just how high we had climbed. In less than a single year, our physical relationship had progressed from separate masturbation, to jerking off in company, to making out like any other teenagers, to *really* making out, to mutual oral sex. And after Alex’s episode with Patty, the only thing it seemed we hadn’t done was The Deed itself.

As long as Alex was still technically a virgin, regardless of the amount of sex play we indulged in, perhaps we thought we could continue to pretend that this was all just fun and affectionate games. But we came to understand that soon, very soon, we would no longer be able to restrain ourselves. The sex play wouldn’t be enough. Though we didn’t discuss it in so many words, we both wanted very badly to spend an entire night fucking ourselves into exhaustion. Moreover, the opportunity was there every day and the lingering fear of taking that final step was dissipating. What were we going to do?




It all came to a head the third week in December. We were lying in her bed, naked, our bodies pressed hungrily together. My hands were squeezing and stroking her ass and her hands were manipulating my penis and my balls. We both were breathing hard. My cock was an inch away from where I knew it belonged, and I wanted so badly to slip it into that warm, moist opening! And I was convinced that Alex wanted me inside her, too. I knew I wasn’t the only one torn by physical desire when I gradually became aware that my sister’s body was shaking from some emotion other than lust.

Her face was buried against my chest and I had to pull back to see that she was sobbing in frustration. Her face was flushed and she looked terribly unhappy. I pulled her close to me again and cuddled her head beneath my chin and stroked her back.

Her fingers tried to kneed my chest. “I’m sorry, Michael. I just don’t think I can stand it any longer. I WANT YOU! Making love like this without *really* making love is driving me crazy!”

God, I wanted her, too. But I was worrying about it a lot lately, just as she was. I knew what “incest” was — we both had read quite a lot about its perils and traumas. But the cases we read about seemed to involve mostly young girls trying to deal with forced relationships by much older male relatives, whether father or brother, and that certainly didn’t apply to us.

Consenting sibling incest, if it was discussed at all, was seldom analyzed or tracked for its social and psychological consequences. No one approved of it, of course — most of the books we had read through didn’t seem to approve of sex at all — and again, there was always the assumption of a forced relationship.

We had found one case study in a popular magazine and read it together several times, trying to make sense of it. It concerned a couple in their late 20s who had met through friends, begun dating, and fallen in love. They had seemed almost magnetically drawn to each other from the first and they planned to be married in due course.

Then the woman, who was an adoptee searching for her biological family, finally uncovered explicit information about her long-lost siblings, all of whom had been adopted out to different families at a very young age — and there on the list of names was the man with whom she was in love.

Alex and I both thought this a terrible tragedy — to gain a sibling at the expense of losing a lover and spouse-to-be — but the couple in the magazine article had immediately shifted gears and romantic love seemed to instantly transform itself into traditional filial devotion.

Neither of us could quite believe that the couple had been able to undergo such a radical emotional transformation without severe psychological disturbance. Or were most people really such slaves to a primarily European tradition?

We didn’t know, but it was frightening. And it was the most important reason that we went to such lengths to keep our own relationship secret. As brother and sister, we were utterly devoted to each other. But as members of the opposite sex, we were deeply in love. And not puppy love, either. I had a couple of acquaintances who had gone through a “crush” phase with an older brother or sister. They laughed about it later or maintained an embarrassed silence.

We had also read the theories of psychologists who argued that siblings went through a stage of infantile sexual attraction which they were physically unable to fulfill, so that the attraction turned to active rejection of each other as possible sex partners by the time they reached puberty. That sounded like crap to us, and it certainly didn’t fit our own case.

We also knew the hoary old biological arguments — that children born of incestuous relationships were likely to be congenital idiots with two heads, or worse. We knew *that* wouldn’t wash. The human gene pool was much too large for common parents in one generation to be statistically significant.

So we weren’t in a situation of child abuse, and there was no valid biological argument that we could see. Incest was simply a taboo, inherited from Neolithic ancestors with a different survival agenda. And we lay there in bed, holding tightly to each other, both of us in tears now, feeling conspired against by society. Our relationship, emotional and otherwise, was certainly different — we recognized that. But did that make it “wrong”?

Maybe we were *ahead* of the pack in terms of evolution. Maybe many other sibling couples felt as we did but were afraid of departing so far from the norm — or else thought themselves depraved. Perhaps we shared a common insanity. Or was everybody *else* nuts?

After awhile, we found ourselves sprawled on Alex’s bed in conversational mode, still naked, but not feeling very sexually aroused at the moment. The tears had gone but the depression hadn’t.

“Michael, what it comes down to is whether we’re going to listen to ourselves or to the rest of the world. Do we want — do we *need* — each other badly enough to tell everyone else to go to hell?”

“But we’re still minors, Alex. Unless we ran away, the State would keep us apart if they found out. We’d both probably end up in the nut house, under shock treatment. Remember the ending of “Cuckoo’s Nest”? And you know we’re not going to drop out of school and run away from home. We’d make lousy hippies. I think all we can do is to keep The Secret and wait until we’re old enough that no one can stop us, until we can protect ourselves.”

“But that’s *years* yet — and a year longer for me! Michael, I don’t want to wait that long — I can’t! I want to fuck you!” Her cheeks colored a bit at her own vehemence and she took a deep breath.

“I want to make love to you, Michael. And I want you to make love to me. *Love.* And I can’t wait too much longer. I’ve been waiting for months. I even started taking the Pill a few months ago — Janie’s father is a doctor and she got them for me — and I’ve just been waiting for the right time.” She gave me a look of such longing, I got flutters in my stomach.

She shifted to a kneeling position, which — even naked — seemed somehow more formal. Her expression became serious. “It all comes down to one question, Michael: Do you love me?”

I just looked at her for a moment, then sat up facing her. This didn’t sound like a rhetorical question; did she really need an answer?

“You know how I feel about you, Alex.”

She folded her hands together and tucked them between her knees, and studied them. “Maybe I do, but I have to hear it. Please.”

I leaned forward and covered her hands with mine. I looked into her eyes and said slowly and clearly, “Alex, I love you with all my heart.” She blushed a little but her smile seemed relieved. She caught my hand and squeezed.

“Michael, I love you more than anything. Anything. We *are* in love, for real, and it’s not fair that we can’t share it physically, like any other couple.”




I guess that’s what made up my mind. I was still nervous about taking the final step, taking my sister’s virginity, even though she was actively pressing it on me.

“Incest,” I decided at that moment, was just a word. An outmoded concept that had no relevance to us. I’d had one semester of psychology, though I was actually very widely read in that field already, and I suspected Freud and his crowd would have all sorts of significant things to say about us, but that simply didn’t interest me.