Now am I Your Girlfriend? (her brothers’s perspective)
There she was, leaning over me, her sweet, tender nipple grazing my lips. My cock was deep in her ass, and I’d just bathed her rectum with my cum, but still she ground her cunt on my pubic bone until she arched her back, again, and came convulsively. In a few moments, catching her breath, she asked me the same question she’d often ask; “Now am I your girlfriend?”
This time, my answer was different. I was so overwhelmed by the reality of the two of us, together as lovers for over a year, yet still so young. I said, “No, my beautiful little sister. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re my wife, now and forever.”
How did this come to be? I was fourteen years-old. She was twelve, and literally, my little sister…and I was aching for her hand in marriage. She lay down on me, her lips brushing mine, one little tear on her cheek. “Yes,” she said.
I’m not sure how it all started. We’d always been close, as kids go. She was so pretty, even as a young girl of nine when she’d first asked me that question. I was eleven, walking home from school with her, and for reasons completely unknown to me, I took her hand in mine. I think she was a little startled, but she blushed sweetly, and just barely lifted her eyes to me. “Am I your girlfriend now?” she asked. It was so cute, and she was so pretty, I couldn’t help myself in answering, “Maybe…maybe someday.”
For a few days afterwards, I was a little rattled. Every time I looked at her, she would gently smile, and I found myself more drawn into her beautiful eyes. I would think about her in my room while tossing around trying to get to sleep. Girlfriend? She’s only nine, what does she know about girlfriends and boyfriends? All I knew was I couldn’t get her or her question out of my head.
I did take to regularly holding her hand while walking either to or from school. She’d always sweetly blush, and even giggle a bit when I took her hand in mine. Then, one day, when we got home and I’d closed the door behind us, I was looking at her and bent down to kiss her cheek. It was the first time I’d kissed anyone.
It was the most intense experience I’d ever had. Here my lips were brushing against her face, feeling the textures of her slightly olive skin, taking in the scent of her. That kiss on her cheek lasted a long time.
She asked, “Now am I your girlfriend?”
“Maybe…maybe someday,” I responded.
Not another day went by without me kissing her face. I was mesmerized by the feel of her skin on my lips, her scent, and her wide eyes when I drew back. I remember just lightly grazing her mouth while kissing her, until one day my lips met hers and stayed there. Oh, god, it must have lasted at least a whole minute, and I was hooked. I couldn’t put my finger on what was actually happening, but I knew I wanted to do this with her whenever we could find some private time.
With a sweet smile, she again, “Now am I your girlfriend?”
Trying to hold myself together, I responded, “Maybe…maybe someday.”