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She reached down, grabbed both my wrists, and planted my hands right on the white cotton cups of her bra. "You've been waiting for this moment for over ten years."
I wish I could say I shoved her off me and gave her a stern rebuke, but I have to admit I didn't take my hands off her breasts, not even when she let go of my wrist and began kneading my shoulders. "Why are you doing this," I asked, hoping I sounded wounded and moral. "What do you hope to--"
Angela leaned in then and kissed me full on the mouth. Her tongue lanced out and pushed my lips open and I tasted my sister's sweet warm mouth for the first time. My courage shattered like a china plate. I slipped my hands off her breasts and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her even closer if that were possible, mashing her breasts into my chest, rubbing my belly into her belly, grinding the crotch of my jeans up against her crotch. Our faces moved together like a well-oiled machine, our mouths mingling, our tongues tangling yieldingly, like notes of song. I breathed in her scent, filling up my soul with my beautiful, smart, sexy, willing sister until there was nothing else left, no resistance, no well-memorized objections, no pious churchy thou-shalt-not, only this woman, exquisite, sensual, inviting, sinuous, desirable, who knew me better than I knew myself and moved her body over mine better than any fantasy or dream I'd ever had over the last twelve years, who I wanted more than I wanted life itself and who wanted me in return.
After a million years of rapturous ecstasy Angela broke the kiss and lifted her face off mine. I continued to hold her body up against mine, tracing each bone of her spine one by one with my fingertips, while she looked me in the eye. "Don't ask me that question, Neil," she murmured, in a tone that combined sexuality with threat. "If I'm ever ready for you to know I'll tell you."
Gasping for breath after a kiss unmatched in all my life, all I could do was nod.
Angela put her hands on my shoulders and pushed slightly, lifting herself a few inches off my body. "Now you're not being fair," she insisted. "You've already seen a sample of what you have to look forward to this afternoon, and I don't get to see what you have to offer me." She paused with her palms on my chest, her thumbs drawing gentle circles around my nipples, before she began unbuttoning my shirt.
"Now it's my turn to tell you not to be coy," I said. I slipped my arms off her back, grasped my shirt with both hands, and pulled. Buttons went flying, and one wedged itself in Angela's cleavage. We both stared at the button, balanced precariously in the gentle auburn shadow between her breasts. All of a sudden I felt unaccountably embarrassed. But then Angela giggled, and that flawless, adorable, cherry-colored blush returned to her velvety cheeks, and I chuckled, and then we were laughing madly, hugging and kissing and shaking with hysterical glee like children playing in the sun.
I tossed my shirt aside, still laughing. "I'll get that." I pulled her into me, hands roughly clutching her body, and lived out the long-deferred fantasy of a twelve-year-old baby brother, burying my face in her breasts, rubbing the skin against my cheeks, kissing and licking, groaning hungrily. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts and I caught it on my tongue. I felt blindly against her back until I felt the clasp of her bra, and undid the hooks. She shrugged out of the straps, and I tossed her bra in the same general direction as my shirt. Her nipples stared up at me, a dark russet color, large as silver dollars and hard as carbon steel. When I finally pulled my face back I had the button between my teeth. I waggled my eyebrows at her and spat the button off to one side, and we laughed some more.
We were still sitting upright, and Angela grabbed my shoulders and threw herself backward onto the carpet, pulling me after her. "Come on, be a man," she said. "Get on top."
"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I answered, climbing into the best possible position.
She reached down and g