Sunrise sizzled the morning dew that had settled on my bedroom window. In my arms, her once vibrant, naked body lay still and silent, bathed in warm dawn hues of pink and gold. Cold sweat dripped from her smooth skin, as I looked lovingly at her peaceful face. For the first and last time in our lives, my sister Jenny and I had made love, and nothing would ever be the same again.
It was the morning of my seventeenth birthday, and like no other day, before or since, it looms large in my memory. Looking back from this vantage point ten years later, perhaps the course of events that were unfolding around me as I approached the end of my sixteenth year should have been obvious. Some would argue that the universe had been leading Jenny and I to this point since the moment time began, but who knows. If we could indeed foresee the consequences of life’s twists and turns, then we would I’m sure all be better for it.
As twins, albeit of the non-identical kind, Jenny and I have always had a special bond. Like me, she can be shy and slightly awkward around people on first meeting, but we differ in that her wonderful personality eventually shines through with the brightness of an exploding star. She is and always has been warm, gentle, kind, compassionate, witty, and the most intelligent person I’ve ever known. And with startling sapphire blue eyes, tangled light blonde shoulder length hair, full pale pink lips and porcelain complexion, her beauty at sixteen was that of a Botticelli angel. At the time, she stood about an inch taller than I, at around 5ft 7”. Her body was slender and athletic. What was unusual about our upbringing was that, despite a natural desire to be close, Jenny and I were often kept apart by our puritanical parents. Growing up, we were never allowed to sleep in the same bed or see each other naked; there were no shared bath times for us. Until the age of eleven, Jenny and I attended the same mixed-sex private school, but after that we were ripped further apart when she won a scholarship, which took her to an all-girls private school, where she boarded five days a week due to its distance from our family home. We would see each other at weekends, but it was never enough. If indeed the circumstances of our upbringing had created in me an underlying, repressed sexual desire for Jenny, then what is clear now is that the urge first surfaced a few weeks after our sixteenth birthday. I’d gone with Jenny to visit her friend, Molly, who had invited us to go swimming in her parents’ pool. Molly and Jenny were already splashing around and having fun, when I went to slip into my trunks, and it was at that point I noticed a pile of clothes on the floor, on top of which were two pairs of dirty panties. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself sniffing and licking at the moist juices of both pairs, not caring that one pair belonged to my sister. Since the incident at the pool, I’d taken every opportunity at weekends, when Jenny returned home, to dig her panties out of the dirty laundry basket. Of course, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but that just made my heart pound all the harder as I stretched the gusset of each pair open to reveal her most intimate secrets. If I was really lucky, I’d find a pair that she’d just removed and that were still warm and wet, with a slick viscous deposit that suggested she’d been highly aroused. These I’d push my face into, licking and sucking at the juices, before lowering them to my throbbing penis and covering the gusset with pearls of hot, sticky semen. Using Jenny’s panties to fuel my masturbatory urges is something that I think would have continued without development, if it hadn’t been for a combination of events that occurred earlier that year. It started in January, with the loss of my first true girlfriend, Beth, who moved to Australia with her parents, plunging me into despair. Nobody did more to sooth and comfort me at that time than Jenny; nobody showed more gentle patience. My frustrations would build and sink, either ending in aggressive confrontations with my parents, or in dark solitude. Only Jenny could help. One Saturday, near the middle of April, Jenny decided that it would be good for both of us to get out of the house for a day, so she arranged horse riding lessons at the local stables. I wasn’t overly keen on the idea, but thought it would be worth it just to spend some precious time with her. And soon, I found myself sitting on the back of a large, black mare, waiting to be led out into a paddock. After that, however, I have no memory of what happened. I’m told that the mare was startled, making it rear and buck uncontrollably, until I was thrown, headfirst to the concrete, courtyard below. In stretching out my arms to save myself, I broke both of them and smashed my hands, too. To make things worse, the horse had come down on me, breaking my right leg just above the ankle. It took several days before I was released from hospital, and when I returned home I was in a sorry state. My right leg and both arms were in plaster; even my fingers were splinted and tightly bandaged so that I could not bend them. More than anything else, it was the fact that I was powerless to perform the most basic tasks that got me down. On a positive note, about two weeks into my recuperation Jenny returned home from boarding school for half-term. I was particularly pleased about this, because it meant that life wouldn’t be so dull for the next few days, and Jenny was happy to play nursemaid. From the moment she arrived, she couldn’t do enough for me, but more than that, she just filled me with joy. For most of while I recuperated, I lounged around in my pyjamas, which made it easier to wash myself and go to the loo without too much assistance. Plus, my mother helped where necessary, as for two weeks following the accident she had taken leave from her job. But now, with Jenny’s homecoming, she had decided to return to work for a week. If my memory serves me correctly, it was on the Monday morning that the exact chain of events that led to Jenny and I making love really began. Early that morning, my mother had taken me to the local doctor’s surgery so that my progress could be checked. As so often happens, the appointment took longer than expected, which meant that by the time I was dropped back home my mother was already running late, and so she just dumped me with Jenny and rushed off. Of course, Jenny was quick to help and soon the pair of us were relaxing in front of the TV, eating snacks. About an hour had passed, I think, when I realised that I needed a pee, so I struggled up onto my crutches and made my way slowly to the loo. Oddly enough, it didn’t actually occur on me until I was stood over the toilet that I would have difficulty. For about ten minutes I just stood there racking my brains for a solution, but I could see no way of being able to release myself from my jeans. “Is everything okay in there,” came Jenny’s voice at the door. “Eeeer, yeah, I’m alright,” I replied, shakily. “What’s the matter? Do you need some help?” she replied, knocking softly on the door and turning the handle. Looking behind me, I could see her head poking round the door. “I’m okay Jenny,” I persisted, but she just smiled a gentle smile, and came in. “Oh, I see the problem,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get it out. Don’t be embarrassed.” Without another word, Jenny unzipped my jeans and slipped her right hand inside, as I stood frozen to the spot. At that very moment, I don’t think there was a sexual thought in her mind, but as she worked her way into my boxers and felt my rapidly expanding erection, we both had a simultaneous realisation. With pounding heart, I looked deep into her widening eyes. She was breathing heavily, biting her bottom lip, and swallowing hard. “Oh, errr, oh. I don’t think I can get it out like this,” she said, trembling. As her words trailed off, she removed her hand from my jeans and went to unbuckle my belt. And before I could say anything, she was pulling my jeans and boxers down around my knees. If Jenny’s eyes had widened when she felt inside my boxers, then they almost popped out of her head as she saw my released penis spring up and stand to attention before her. Looking down at it, her jaw dropped open, in a state of shock. “Hmmm, I’ve never seen one up close before. It’s so stiff. Errr, I’ll just wait until you go, and then I’ll pull your jeans up for you,” she said, not taking her eyes off my erection. Time seemed to stand still as I stood there desperately trying to relieve myself, but it was no good; there was no way I could go with such an erection. “What’s up? Why can’t you go?” Jenny said after a minute or so. “I can’t, not with a hard-on,” I snapped back. “Okay, don't shout, I’m only trying to help,” she said softly. “I’ve heard girls talk about wanking their boyfriends off, but I’ve never done anything like that before. I could try for you.” “What! No, Jenny, it’s not right, you’re my sister,” I said in an alarmed voice. “Well, we can’t stand here all day. I don’t see what the problem is. I’m your sister, and I’m helping you,” she said indignantly. “Most sisters have seen their brothers naked loads of times and think nothing of it. And now I’ve seen your cock, so what of it. I don’t see what difference it makes if I just rub it for you.” Before she’d even finished her sentence, her right hand had slipped under my shaft and lifted it slightly. A palpable tension hung in the air with the anticipation of what would come. Slowly, she curled her warm fingers around my aching penis and began pulling my foreskin back and forth at an increasing speed. All the time my head was telling me how wrong this was, that I shouldn’t be letting her do this, but my body was telling me otherwise. I looked at her, to see her eyes flick from my face downwards and then back again. “It’s okay, let it cum” she said reassuringly. By now my hips had begun to thrust in rhythm with her hand strokes, and I could feel the start of my orgasm building in the pit of my stomach.
