Memories of My Stepsister’s Pussy Kisses
TJ Nachito
Smashwords Edition\
2012
Copyright © 2012 TJ Nachito
This novella was originally published, in a different and longer form and context, online as ‘A Lifetime of Love.’
Prologue
Only now, with both of them gone, do I understand what I truly had, what a gift those women were for me, and how I ruined it all; and there is no possibility of fixing what I have broken. We never appreciate what we have in life until those things to appreciate are taken away from us, and we can blame no one but our own tragic faults. Sometimes we learn and sometimes we do not. I doubt I have learned anything other than what an utter fool I was. I am damned: tormented to remember their touch, her touch, my sweet stepsister and my beloved wife, the two creatures who meant everything to me; I am damned to yearn for what is lost: from their soft touch to their wet pussy kisses. Memory.
Chapter One
We
played doctor. We did this for years and then my stepsister wouldn’t
play anymore. I realize now, she had started puberty when she
stopped. However, then I didn’t even know the word much less
understand it. I continued to pester her unmercifully to play. A few
years later, I discovered puberty and when we were alone, my sexual
comments were unending. I don’t know how she tolerated me. I guess
she knew I really loved her. Sometimes she’d roar that if I didn’t
stop, she would never speak to me again. I knew her bark was worse
than her bite, so it only slowed me for a little while.
When I was nineteen and she was twenty-one, our parents died in a traffic accident, killed by a drunk driver. It was senseless and that made it all the more painful. We had the house, my mother’s car, and more life insurance than necessary to support ourselves through university and beyond. My stepsister forced me to swear at their graveside that I would distinguish myself at university. She made the same pledge standing beside me in the wind and the rain. We both knew it’s what our parents wanted for us. Our pledge brought us closer together.
We inherited one other thing, a rustic mountain cabin built by my great-great-grandfather. It wasn’t beautiful, but it was spacious. There was no running water and the most modern convenience was the foam pad on the privy seat so you wouldn’t freeze your butt in the winter. However, to the builder, it had been a labor of love as well as a matter of survival. It had a huge field stone fireplace still complete with the wrought iron arms and rings for cooking. Surrounding the fireplace was a cozy log cabin with the old-fashioned front veranda you often see in pictures. It was complete with rocking chairs my stepsister and I used many times in our youth. A later addition was an extremely large iron wood-burning cook stove. The kind that costs a small fortune these days, if you are lucky to find one. As a family, we had the best times of our lives at the cabin. The area was full of trails left by the old prospectors and complete with an abandoned mine on the other side of the mountain. Steams ran from the snowmelt high overhead.
One of the first things we did together after the death of our parents was return to the place we had so much enjoyed. The closest access road was two miles away, so we had to hike to the cabin. Even with the short time that had passed after my parent’s death, I could not avoid noticing her beautiful buttocks sway under the backpack. As usual, the pack contained tins and dried goods. I too carried a backpack, and as I followed her, for once made no comment about her body or how much I desired to see it. However, as the months passed, I returned to my old ways. I besieged her with constant requests to see some portion of her anatomy. She simply rejected them.
One warm and beautiful September day, we hiked to the lake some six miles away. Behind her, I watched her buns as usual. As we hiked, I noticed I was hot and removed my shirt. It was just before my turn to take the lead; we habitually alternated every mile or so. Naturally, I remarked she should do the same. ‘In your dreams,’ was her reply as we alternated and I took the lead. We continued up the mountain, enjoying the exercise, fresh air and sunshine, when I heard her stumble behind me. I turned to find her defiantly okay. Her breasts were beautiful large succulent, the areolas large and dark topped by her nipples. All she wore above the waist was the light backpack, the straps resting on her shoulders. My hands rose of their own volition to touch. She stepped back. With a touch of anger in her voice, she unequivocally informed me if I touched her, I would never see them again. I instantly obeyed knowing the difference between her bark and her bite. That was definitely a bite. We continued our hike with me dreaming of her bouncing along behind me. A mile passed and my stepsister took the lead. Her movements occasionally allowed a glimpse of her beautiful breasts. Finally, we reached the lake and began lunch. I was sure she would cover herself. I was wrong and throughout lunch watched as they swayed and jiggled to her movements. With my mouth as dry as a desert, I gathered the courage to tell her she was gorgeous; her tits were beautiful and I told her that: ‘Your tits are wonderfully gorgeous.’
She replied flatly, ‘I’m glad you like them, but would you do me a favor and refer to them as breasts? To me, tits are toys for men’s pleasure. So, if you talk about them, use breasts. I think only a lover should call them tits.’ With that, we finished lunch and returned to the cabin. Her movements afforded me the occasional glimpse. At the cabin, she donned her shirt and we continued our normal routine as though nothing happened.
Chapter Two
Winter
came and went like an assassin. Our marks at the university were
excellent. Both of us honored our commitment to our dead parents and
each other. My stepsister would not allow a return visit to the cabin
until we completed exams. Therefore, it was a fine warm late spring
day before we saw the cabin again. We spent a day cleaning and airing
before resuming our hikes the following day. Up the mountain with no
real destination in mind, we alternated the lead each mile as usual.
I grew hot and sweaty. At a stop to switch, I removed my shirt
preparing to pester my stepsister to do the same. The moment I
removed my shirt, she did too and with no coaching from me. We
continued up the mountain. I watched her magnificent bottom made taut
and round by hiking. I commented she must be sweaty in her pants and
maybe she should remove those too. She ignored me as I continued to
make comments about seeing her bottom. We stopped to switch; it was
my turn to take the lead.
‘Are you wearing those pants all the way up the mountain or will you give me the view you want so badly?’ she asked. That comment put the ball squarely in my court. I struggled in indecision, until I realized I would never get my wish unless I acquiesced. I removed my jeans and with my cock tenting my jockeys, stuffed them into my backpack beside the shirt. My stepsister stood silently looking at my underwear. Reluctantly, I removed them as well and added them to the backpack. Immediately, I began hiking again, nude to the world except for the backpack, my cock semi-erect bobbing with my strides. Sure, my stepsister occasionally saw my equipment between my legs as I moved.
The next mile passed and she took the lead for a few moments then stopped. Without turning, she removed her backpack and with several wiggles of her hips, removed her tight jeans. Her thong covered almost nothing of her ass. She bent to gather her jeans and put them in her backpack. My heart almost stopped and my mouth was so dry my tongue stuck to the roof. She stood and with another wiggle of her hips stepped out of her thong. She bent again, exposing her sex for a second, and she placed her thong in the pack. My heart lurched and continued. Repositioning the pack on her shoulders, she continued up mountain, as though I wasn’t there. My cock stiffened as I followed watching the muscles flex under her skin with each step. The heart shaped inverted three sway with each stride. Her broad hips moved from side to side.
We reached a clearing. She stopped and looking at my cock asked if this was where we should eat lunch. I looked at the honey-blonde pubic patch hiding her sex. She removed our lunches and her jeans. I was sure she would get dressed. I bent to get the water in my pack. When I turned around, she was sitting on her jeans so the stiff grasses wouldn’t irritate her rear. I tried to tell her how succulent her ass was. How attractive it was as I followed her up the trail. ‘I think it’s from running all over this mountain with you, but I’d prefer you call it my bottom. I think only a lover should call it an ass.’
After lunch, we headed down the mountain, our bare bodies enjoying the sun and the air. When we reached the cabin, she jumped into her clothes and we went in to prepare an evening meal. She insisted I be fully clothed before entering.
Chapter Three
The
summer passed rapidly with many naked hikes, both of us becoming
comfortable in our nudity. My twentieth birthday came and went like a
nocturnal ejaculation. I would be entering the school of architecture
in the fall. We left the cabin at the beginning of September, so I
would have time to register. We planned to return later in the year.
It was late October before we returned. It’s a dangerous time in
the mountains, since the weather can change rapidly. A huge fire in
the fireplace and an equally large one in the wood stove kept us
warm. We took a final hike heavily clothed against the unseasonably
cold weather. The clouds hung low and threatening.
The weather changed. The snow started to fall, visibility shortening to just a few yards. We were too far from the cabin and wearing sneakers too light to protect us from the snow. Soon, our feet were numb from the cold and the trail was lost in the snow. Finally, she could no longer walk, and tried to stop me as I picked her up to carry her. I told her I’d be damned if I would lose the only person I loved in life. I’d like to tell you I romantically carried her back to the cabin. The reality was far uglier. Draped across my shoulders in a fireman’s lift, I eventually went to my knees the cold almost my master. I had no idea where we were. Fortunately, my hand struck an old iron hoop half buried in the ground and covered in snow. Instinct and unconscious memory clues brought us close to home. I had seen the hoop all my life. It was half buried about forty feet from the cabin. I looked up trying to see. The way the hoop lay, the cabin could be in two directions. I thought of leaving her and going one way, but realized I could loose her in the storm. It was a fifty-fifty chance and I stumbled to my left winning the bet. Slowly, the cabin loomed out of the wall of snow. Finally inside, I staggered to her bed and with a final heave, tossed her onto the bed. I don’t know how she landed. I was unconscious before I hit the floor.