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“Shit! I can’t believe they cancelled it!”
It was my sister’s angry voice crashing through the two sheets of drywall and multiple layers of paint that separated our bedrooms.
Her shout was followed by a loud thud a second or two later.
“Fuck! Now my phone’s broken!” she wailed.
Whatever was wrong with her was escalating rapidly. Being the more level-headed of the O’Malley siblings, I decided to try to bring the boil down to a simmer before the pot overflowed. I abandoned my League of Legends game and raced over to her room.
Turning the corner, I saw Emma lying on her bed with her arm draped across her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her long red hair was splayed across her pillow. Her knees were in the air and her chest was thrust upward. I tried not to notice the perkiness of her breasts in her striped tank top at that angle, or the lovely sprinkling of freckles across the skin above her milky white cleavage. Or the fact that her legs were spread in such a way that a flash of her yellow panties was visible at the gap of her red short shorts. Colour-coordinated she was not.
I gave the rest of the bedroom a quick visual scan and saw her dismembered smartphone on the floor beside her dresser. She’d apparently flipped it across the room in a burst of agitation.
I walked over and picked up the pieces of the phone.
“It’s not broken,” I said. “The cover to the battery compartment just popped off. And the screen is fine.”
After putting it back together, I walked over to her bed and handed it to her. The tears stopped and her look of agitation broke into a smile as she reached out to take it. Her delightful grin shone all the way to her eyes, so I knew her gratitude was genuine. That was always the tell-tale sign for me when she was trying to manipulate someone: cute dimples and glistening teeth, but no sparkle in those dazzling emerald eyes. But this time there were fireworks in those limpid pools. Not to mix metaphors in a completely contradictory way or anything.
“Thanks, Shame,” she said gratefully.
I should explain. My name is Seamus O’Malley. If you haven’t guessed, our family is of Irish descent, though we’ve been in Canada for three generations. Despite us being “Irish twins” born just 11 months apart, my sister Emma and I are the only progeny that our parents could muster. Or perhaps the Catholic imperative against birth control lost its grip on the O’Malley household.
Emma has seemingly forever enjoyed saying that my name is “Shame Us” – which she often shortens to “Shame.” If she only knew where my thoughts about her had been lurking in recent months, she’d realize that “Shame Us” couldn’t be more bang on. And “bang on” was exactly what I wanted to do to her delectable body. Of course, I had never dared let on that I was harbouring incestuous thoughts about my kid sister. I tried hard not to ever stare at her to the point of being noticed – just stolen glances when nobody else was looking. And what I saw in brief glimpses was the woman of my dreams. It didn’t help that she was easily the best person I knew, notwithstanding her occasional propensity for manipulation with that megawatt smile.
Emma stood up and shoved the phone into her shorts pocket. Then, to my surprise, she leaned in for a hug. I felt the warmth of her supple young bosom invade my chest like a shot of tequila. Then she leaned her head on my shoulder and made a sound that resembled a purr.
“I’m glad I have you, Shame,” she cooed.
If you only knew how much of me you have, Sis, I thought silently. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my nose in the fragrance of her shampoo, holding her close. And then I felt it, for the umpteenth time – my unmistakable reaction to her close proximity.
My erection was immediate and massive. I worried that she would feel it, too. And so I released the hug, grasping both of her shoulders and pushing her gently away while I held her gaze. I thought I saw hurt in her eyes, but it was displaced by relief after I spoke up.
“I love you, Enny. And I’ll always be here for you.”
So I guess you’re wondering about “Enny.” No, it wasn’t a nickname that arose from me being unable to pronounce “Emma” as a young child. It was my deliberate retaliation for her use of “Shame Us” into our teenage years. I had declared to her that her real birth name was “Enema” and that the hospital administrator who’d recorded it for the birth certificate had misspelled it as “Emma.” So I got my digs in by calling her “Enny” as a shortened form of “Enema.”
“You don’t know how much that means to me, Shame,” she replied, sitting back down on the edge of her bed. “By the way, did you see the school announcement?”
“No – what’s up?”
“There’s sure to be an email in your inbox,” she said.
“I only check emails once a week or so,” I answered. Text messages were the only way to go if you wanted to get my attention. Emma brazzers porno knew that and nodded, showing no surprise at my response.
“Graduation is cancelled,” she said glumly. “They’re going to mail our diplomas in the fall.”
“Oh, fuck,” I cursed, surprising her. I was angry not for my own sake, but for Emma’s. We were both due to graduate high school next month, since I’d been held back a year when I was slow to master reading at the start of my scholastic career. I’d caught up later and was now an avid reader, but Emma was downright brilliant. She’d excelled in school for 12 years, even in the ‘virtual learning’ environment we’d operated in since late March. Taking school classes from home was the reality in this strange new coronavirus world. Emma was a shoo-in to be our school valedictorian, with the reward of delivering a keynote address at our graduation. She’d been pumped about it and was already working on the speech. Now all of that was gone in the wake of social distancing due to the horrid COVID-19 pandemic.
“I’m so sorry, Sis,” I comforted, putting a hand on her shoulder. I was safe for the moment in doing so, as my erection had calmed down with distance and bad news.
Tears began to well up in Emma’s eyes. “I didn’t give a flying fuck when they cancelled the prom,” she said. “And it was okay to have a ‘virtual party’ online with my friends for my birthday. But this just plain sucks.”
Emma is by no means a party animal and so the prom and her 18th birthday party were not high on her priority list. I, on the other hand, was really bummed about missing these social events. But graduation, as the culmination of 12 years of hard work, really bit the big one – especially for Emma.
“Yeah, it sucks,” I said. “But maybe I can find a way to cheer you up.”
Her face lit up, that genuine smile radiating to her eyes.
“Ya think?” she asked.
All the sudden, I was on the spot. I’d had nothing in mind when I said it, and now all that sprang to mind was ripping her shorts and panties off, spreading her legs right there on the edge of the bed while she lay back, and licking and suckling her teenage pussy all the way to a writhing, mind-bending orgasm.
“Um, yeah,” I replied. A dead silence followed.
Finally, Emma quirked an eyebrow.
“Any ideas?” she asked.
I wanna make you cum, I thought. And then pound your beautiful pussy so hard with my dick that you forget all your troubles… and can’t walk for a week.
“No,” I said.
Emma’s face blossomed into a mischievous grin. “I have an idea,” she said.
You’re gonna sit on my face and then grind on my tongue. Please, please, please. Pretty please, with a cherry on top…
“What’cha thinkin’?” I replied hopefully.
She smirked as if revealing a devilish idea.
“Let me cut your hair,” she responded.
Well that came out of left field, I thought.
“Don’t tell me,” I answered sarcastically. “Let me guess. Since you don’t get to do your valedictory speech, you’ve decided to become a hairdresser.”
“No, dumbass,” she replied, “I just have a creative side that needs expression. And I know that haircutting hasn’t been deemed an essential service, so you can’t go and get it done. Besides, you’ve been looking a little bushy lately.”
I know of a little bush I’d like to look at, my Neanderthal brain spoke silently.
“But what if you do a hack job?” I said out loud.
“I’ve got skills,” she said, standing up. She seemed to have taken affront at my question. “At least – at least I think so. Besides, you can’t go anywhere for anybody to see you.”
“But what about my online friends?”
“Both of them?” she laughed, that elfin grin returning. “But seriously, dude, you don’t have to turn the camera on with them if you don’t like what you see.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“Um, like, wasn’t it ‘taking my sister’s mind off graduation being cancelled’?” she observed correctly.
“Yeah, but now you’re talking about risking my look!” I feigned indignance.
“Dude, it’s not like I’m giving you a tattoo. Whatever I do, it’s only temporary. And besides, you might like it.”
There are lots of things you could do to me that I’d like, I thought. Somehow, ‘haircut’ wasn’t the first ending I’d have given to the sentence ‘I’d like for you to give me a __________’…
“Okay, okay, I get it,” I said. “Making you feel better is reward enough for me.”
Emma literally jumped up and down, her pert B- or possibly C-cups a split second of syncopation behind the rest of her body. Then she hugged me again. Little Seamus reared his ugly head again, so I found a way to gently turn my torso aside and sport a quizzical look.
“When do you want to do this?” I asked.
“I need to look at whatever gear we have available. I think Mom keeps some scissors and clippers in the basement bathroom.”
“But castingcouch-x porno Mom and Dad are working from home down there,” I said. “We can’t risk being on one of their videoconference calls to look for haircutting tools.”
“Yeah, you’re right – I guess you’re not such a dumbass. I’ll look through it tonight after dinner,” she said.
“Yeah, I want to have natural light,” she answered. “So not tonight, and not in the basement. We’ll do it up here in my bedroom tomorrow after lunch.”
Don’t make promises unless you intend to keep them, my boner said to my other head. I felt a stab of guilt at my ever-present fixation on my beautiful younger sister.
“God, I’m such a lech,” I said.
Emma did a double-take. “You’re what?”
“Did I say that with my outside voice?”
“What – that you’re a lech?”
“Oh, sh-shit,” I stammered.
Emma stared blankly at me. I attempted a recovery.
“No, what I said was, ‘God, I’m such a wretch’ – for giving my sweet little sister a hard time about something as simple as a haircut.”
“So it didn’t have anything to do with me saying we’d do it in my bedroom tomorrow?” She batted her eyes playfully.
Busted, I thought. “Hell, no!” I said vehemently. I stomped out the door and down the stairs to the main level of the house, not daring to remain even just a room away while my sister pondered my obvious lie.
After dinner, Emma traipsed down to the basement. “C’mon, bro – let’s get some ear-lowering gear,” she called back over her shoulder. I instead bolted up the stairs to my room.
Everything was still lying on my bed from my interrupted game of League of Legends. I cleaned up the mess and arranged things on my desk. That was when I heard my phone ping. I picked it up and lay down on my bed to read the text message. It was from Emma.
Sure, y not?
U left in a hurry. Earlier in my room + after dinner.
So I wanna make sure my big bro is ok.
Becuz I wuvs u.
God, now my baby sis is talking baby talk.
Not a good look for a valedictorian…
You’d rather me talk smack?
So how’s this for smack? I think my big bro is avoiding me because he’s perving on his baby sis. And he knows that’s sick. The lech…
Oh, god. Oh, god, no. She was onto me.
Like hell, I replied. Yes, it was like hell. The one person that I wanted – and the one person I could never have, right there in front of me, day after day. Giving me hugs and telling me she loves me.
So you don’t have a thing for your baby sis?
What would ever make u think I did?
Maybe the way u ogle my tits when you think I’m not looking. Or maybe the raging hard-on you sport every time I give u a hug.
Mayday! Mayday! She was definitely onto me. The only defense I could think of was a remnant of our childhood spats. Casting doubts – the fine art of misdirection.
So confident in ourselves, aren’t we?
Hey, bro, I calls ’em like I sees ’em.
U sure u aren’t seeing what u WANT to see? Erections just may be in the eye of the beholder…
Hey, easy there, big boy. Don’t get your panties in a wad. Or whatever it is you wear under there.
So what’re u doing looking at my cock anyway?
Not lookin’. I can feel it when you press up against me when we hug.
Oh, shit. I chose my next words carefully.
I’m at a loss for words, Sis. Except one word. Sorry.
I’m a schmuck.
No. A lech, maybe – not a schmuck.
But you’re right – I’m sick.
There was a pause on her end.
Um, I kinda think it’s sweet.
So ur not mad.
Maybe I should be. But I’m not. I’m actually kinda flattered.
But u think I’m a perv.
Maybe. But a sweet perv. I still wuvs u.
Oh, god, not that again…
My dreams that night were filled with Emma. In my sleepy, lustful haze, I saw her swimming in a lagoon. Her flaming red hair barely crested the water. Sunlight glinted off her head, creating a prismatic burst of radiant colours. A waterfall splashed from high cliffs behind her. Palm trees and jungle brush covered the banks of the lagoon and the tops of the cliffs, swaying in the breeze. Emma swam directly toward me.
I was sitting in cool water that just cleared the top of my swim trunks. As Emma came within 30 feet of me, her swim strokes slowed. Then they stopped. She stood in the water, apparently feeling with her toes for the water’s bottom. Her head ducked under the water briefly, so she swam a few more feet. Then she stood again. She found her footing and began to walk through the water toward me.
The waterline was just above her shoulders and below her chin. As she neared me, the water receded from her shoulders. clips4sale porno I saw no hint of straps on her shoulders, nor any tan lines. Of course, there were no tan lines: she’s a redhead. Freckles and sunburn would be the outcome of time spent in the sun.
Emma continued walking toward me. Her pace seemed predatory – measured steps but a readiness to pounce when the prey took off. As the water level reached a quarter of the way down her chest, a hint of cleavage began to show. My eyes went wide. I thought I saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Emma’s mouth.
She continued toward me, and suddenly there they were – the most magnificent pair of breasts I could ever have imagined. Of course, I was imagining them. I somehow knew I was dreaming, but it was tinged with reality. And they were perfect: milky white, a beautiful handful each, burnished by deep red aureola topped with nipples that jutted longingly toward the cobalt sky. Judging by her nipples, she was either aroused or cold. I chose to believe the former. My cock stirred in my swim trunks, and as always when my sister gave me the slightest reason to hope, I was immediately and massively hard.
Emma was now within 15 feet of me, and the water was down past her belly button. My distracted mind mused that she had an “inny” and wondered whether I should start calling her “inny” instead of “Enny.” But then my brain riveted back to full attention – as did my penis – when the slightest wisp of fiery red pubic hair showed above the water. She continued slowly toward me.
“God, Enny, what’re you doing?” I finally spoke aloud. My voice was strained and seemed to echo off the cliffs.
“Comin’ to see my big brother,” she said with a smile. Her smile reached her eyes. She was enjoying this.
“Put some clothes on, freak,” I replied.
“But I don’t wanna,” she said. She continued at a measured pace on her trajectory toward me. I remained seated in the water.
“What do you wanna do, then?” I asked.
She now stood within a couple of feet of me. A large drop of water seemed to defy gravity as it clung to a wiry strand of her flaming red bush. She had not trimmed, but from my vantage below, her pubic curls did nothing to obscure the view of her puffy vaginal lips.
“I wanna see your dick,” she replied. “Take those trunks off.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“I’ve shown you mine. Now you show me yours,” she said with a smile.
I stood, entranced. The wet trunks bunched up around my massive boner. There was no way she could miss the effect she was having on me.
“Somebody’s happy to see me,” she laughed, “or else he caught a giant fish with his swim trunks.”
Hesitation be damned. I dropped my trunks and flung them into the water. My dick jutted out toward Emma, bouncing up and down with my desire for her. She reached out and grasped it, stopping the bounce but not the pulsing.
“So now what – are you planning to fuck me?” I asked, shocking myself.
Emma smiled a forlorn smile, disappointment in her eyes.
“I… I only fuck someone I’m in love with,” she said.
“But… how do you know you’re in love?” I asked.
“It takes two,” she stated simply.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, starting to panic that this was some sort of unwinnable riddle challenge.
She gently squeezed my cock and stroke it up and down a couple of times.
“Let me know when you figure it out,” she replied, releasing my dick. She turned and began walking back toward the deeper water.
I was caught up in watching her lovely white ass for several seconds before it dawned on me that she was truly leaving.
“Emma – what the fuck?” I called out to her.
She froze in her tracks, her backside still toward me, her voice echoing off the cliffs.
“I’m sorry, Shame. I – I love you.”
Somehow my sexual frustration turned to anger.
“Damned cocktease!” I shouted.
Emma turned back toward me, her tits displayed in all their glory, her bush a perfect but wiry match to the hair on her head.
“No, I’m really not,” she said sadly. Then she ran toward the deep and dove into the water, swimming rapidly away.
I awoke with morning wood, but it quickly deflated when I remembered my dream. I was ashamed of myself. I had the hots for my little sister and was having dreams about the two of us being naked together. “Shame us” indeed.
After taking a massive piss and washing my hands, I decided to wander down to the kitchen to see if Mom had cooked some breakfast. To my surprise, Emma was standing over the stove flipping a pancake on a griddle pan. Mom and Dad were nowhere to be seen.
“What’s up?” I asked innocently.
“It’s grocery day,” she replied, “Mom and Dad decided to go to the supermarket early to avoid the lines outside the store.”
Another vestige of our COVID-19 times, I thought. Limits on the number of shoppers in the store meant long lineups outside, each shopper spaced the requisite 6 feet apart.
“So you decided to cook?”
“Pancakes and bacon,” she replied, “with homemade maple syrup. We have some left from the Mennonite farm we visited before the lockdown.”
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