This is the last chapter of seven in Book 1 of the Charlie and Mindy tetralogy—which is a story of forbidden love between a brother and a sister. I am rewriting and reposting a series I removed over two years ago.
It takes time for the chaste love between a brother and a sister to become erotic love between a man and a woman, and the first few chapters of this book chronicle that transformation, so the early chapters of this book may not be what you’re looking for. While there is sexual activity in every chapter, the “good parts” of the story don’t appear until later chapters.
You can follow Charlie and Mindy’s hike on USGS topographical maps or on on-line versions of them. (There are a number of good ones on the Web.) The Meadow Lake Trailhead, which they used, is at 42° 53′ 20″ N, 109° 40′ 53″ W. Maps—even USGS maps—often show it incorrectly as a pond or even as a pair of ponds.
I value your comments and your feedback. When circumstances permit, I will try to respond to each.
We’d been asleep for a while, when I woke to find Mindy crawling out of the sack to pee. I decided that I probably wouldn’t get back to sleep unless I did the same. So I crawled out, too.
The moon, just past full, shone from the south. It gave enough light to see by, and I didn’t need a flashlight. As I stumbled groggily away from camp, Mindy passed me on her way back.
“Eek!” she teased. “There’s a naked man in my camp!”
“Yikes!” I smirked. “There’s a naked woman in mine.”
By the time I returned, Mindy had gotten back into the doubled sleeping bag, and wrapped herself in her half. I got in and zipped us up. She rolled toward me again, put her head on my shoulder. Once again, I drew her warm naked body close to my own. Sleepily, she kissed me on the neck.
“Charlie, will you Do It with me again?” she asked dreamily, abstractedly.
I replied, just as fuzzily. “Of course.”
I began to doze off.
“I didn’t mean next week, you big dope!” She was a bit exasperated at my denseness. “I meant now!”
Her hand had found my cock, was manipulating it.
“Oh, I see.” I replied—still fuzzily. “I’ll think about it.”
My cock, growing rapidly, had already made my thoughts clear. And so did the rest of me, as I rolled toward her. I found her lips, and kissed her as my hand sought her furrow. She was already hot and wet. I guessed that she’d been awake for a while, thinking about it.
I broke the kiss. “God!” I said. “You are so randy!”
“Look who’s talking, Mr. Every Morning Boner,” she had time to say before I kissed her again. “Mmmmm,” she moaned into my mouth as I stroked her clit gently.
Her left hand pumped my cock, back-handedly. Her right arm slid under my neck and encircled my head, holding me tightly. I held her naked chest tightly against mine; her firm tits and hard nipples pressed against my chest.
Fully aroused (erotically, if not mentally), I released her; she rolled her over onto her back and let go of my head, freeing us to move. I rolled on top of her, and she brought her knees up, parted her thighs.
While I supported my weight on my knees and elbows, she reached down between us, and guided me into herself. Slowly, I pushed into her. She brought her arms around my neck, wrapped a leg about each of my thighs, and drew me into herself. We moaned in delight as I slid easily into her welcoming heat and moisture.
We lay there for a while, not moving, enjoying still unfamiliar sensations, quivering with excitement, desire, and anticipation. United as we were, and in spite of the difference in our heights, my mouth would still reach hers. We kissed, sleepily and tenderly at first, but with increasing passion. As our hunger for each other grew, I found that, all unknowingly, I was moving inside of her, had been for a while, sliding in and out; found that she was responding to my motion with countermotion of her own
It was then a few hours before sun-up on Sunday, and I had come six times since Monday evening—in just over five days, that is. The last of those times had been the most compelling orgasm I had ever experienced. Admittedly, I was just 19 years old, and so probably at the height of my sexual powers. Nevertheless, it is fair to say that I’d lost some of my urgency. But the ancient rhythm still held me in its thrall—just less forcefully.
We did moan; we did groan; we did clutch at each other; we did utter nonsense at each other. But, compared with our first time, this was slow and gentle. Comparatively speaking, that is. I was still a teenage male in rut, and it would be a few years yet before I learned how to enjoy sex in a truly slow, truly gentle way.
It would be years, too, before I learned much about control—or maybe there’s no learning involved, and it just takes years to outgrow a male teenager’s inability to exert control. At any rate, more slowly than before, more gently than before, canlı bahis altogether lovingly, we brought each other to our pinnacles.
When she reached her peak, she exploded under me. She shuddered and writhed, grunted and moaned; she thrust her groin against me. I thrust my cock deep into her channel and held it there, pressing our pubic bones against each other. Her body stiffened; I felt her contracting around me, trying to squeeze the cum out of me. And her contractions pushed me over the brink to my own explosion.
I shuddered and moaned with her, driving my cock as far into her as I could. My cum spurted into her, once, twice, and again and again and again. When her orgasm released her, she softened and relaxed under me. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly while my own spasms continued. And, again, just when I thought it was over, another overwhelming spasm of bliss overcame me. My body stiffened one final time and, involuntarily, I thrust myself into her with all of my strength; she responded by thrusting herself back against me.
As before, that spasm lasted for half a minute, and then I sagged into her arms. Somehow, I retained enough control to keep most of my weight on my elbows, lest I smother her.
“You can put your weight on me, lover,” she said. “I won’t break.”
As I did, I brought my arms under her shoulders and clasped her to me. She held me tightly—aided by my own arms and the part of the 190 pounds of me that lies above my hips. We lay there, each of her legs still wrapped about one of mine, her pussy still enveloping my cock. Softly, we moaned at each other. From time to time I nibbled on her ear or her neck. Every now and, my cock jerked in a little spasm or her passage contracted around it. Every once in a while, one of us shuddered with another aftershock.
“Uhh,” she said, after a bit, “maybe I won’t break, but I’m having a little trouble breathing…”
I got back up on my elbows; I had enough sense to do it without suggesting that I could have told her so. The moon gave enough light through the trees that I could see that she was smiling at me. I smiled back at her, lowered my head, and kissed her tenderly—as I had by the lake before supper. She returned the kiss as tenderly.
“I’m glad I’m in love with you,” she said.
“It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I replied. “Falling in love with you myself is the second best.”
My cock had softened, and one of her random contractions squeezed it out of her. She reached up and kissed me again. I rolled off of her, over onto my back, to my side of the bag. She rolled halfway with me, placed her head on my shoulder, brought her knee up until her leg rested across my thighs. I wrapped my arm around her and held her warm, naked little body tightly. I felt her wonderful tits against me. Her hot little pussy, wet with my cum, rested against my hip. I shuddered with another aftershock; she shuddered in an aftershock of her own.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned lightly into my ear.
“Mmmmm,” I moaned lightly in reply.
I was almost back asleep when she stirred and spoke softly to me: “Charlie?”
“What?” I mumbled.
“It didn’t hurt either time we did it. I thought it was supposed to hurt me at first.” This in her ‘worried’ voice. “Do you think we’re doing it right?”
“God!” I mumbled sleepily. “Nothing that feels that good can be wrong.”
She giggled and squeezed me. “It did feel pretty good.” She relaxed against me. And, a minute later, she asked, “Do you suppose that was what hurt me that last time we tried it, when we were kids?”
“I’ll bet that was it,” I mumbled a little bit more sleepily.
I was almost asleep again when what she’d said sank in. I forced myself awake—well, partially awake—and said, “Whatever the reason, I’m really glad we didn’t hurt you tonight.” I bent and kissed her forehead.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned again.
“Mmmmm,” I moaned back at her, with a squeeze.
Quietly, and without further ado, I fell asleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I woke, the sun was shining. A squirrel in a nearby tree had noticed us, and it was complaining loudly about our presence. Somewhere in the distance, a crow was giving the world a piece of its mind.
I lay on my side; my little sister Mindy, still asleep, was curled up in my arms on her own side, her back against me. My hand had found and cupped her tit as I woke, and my cock, only half hard for a change, nestled between her thighs and against her groin. I lay there, marveling at how good, how right, her bare warm little body felt in my arms, against my own naked body.
As I lay there, enjoying her, she stirred. I nuzzled her hair, kissed the back of her neck. She stretched herself back against me.
“Mmmmm, what a nice way to wake up,” she said.
“I think so, too,” I replied with a squeeze and another kiss.
She tried to clench her ass-cheeks around my half-hard cock; the expected resistance was missing.
“Did bahis siteleri we wear him out?” she asked. “Is he all used up?”
“Down for maintenance; temporarily out of service,” I replied. “But by the time you’ve filled out the application for his services, in triplicate, I think he’ll be ready to come to attention.”
“You’ll get my ‘application,’ bonehead!” Her elbow dug into my ribs, but the shot was poorly aimed and of little consequence.
I said “Oof!” anyway, wanting to prevent her from trying to correct her mistake.
“Oh! Wait! That’s supposed to be in triplicate.” Her elbow delivered two more shots—just as poorly aimed as the first.
“Oof! Oof!” I said, appropriately timed.
We had only five miles to go that day, mostly downhill, so there was no hurry. Moreover, we’d been up earlier that morning; hydraulic pressure wasn’t an immediate issue. Thus, we could both take delight in lying there in the sack, in warmth and comfort, half-awake, enjoying the feel of our naked bodies against each other.
Eventually, the one overriding force in a teenager’s life—hunger—drove us out. I put water on for coffee, and we checked the food supply. I thought I knew what we were going to find.
Like our supper the night before, our breakfast was constrained by our shrinking supply of food. The choices were Grape-Nuts, powdered milk, or Grape-Nuts with powdered milk. Or flour, or margarine, or flour fried in margarine. We chose Grape-Nuts with powdered milk. There was still some brown sugar to add to the Grape-Nuts, and we took advantage of that. We had enough cheese, nuts, and raisins for trail-snacks. And there was plenty of instant coffee.
After breakfast, we cleaned up the dishes. But as we prepared to break camp, an unpleasant thought occurred to me.
“Mindy,” I said. “I’ll bet we left cum-stains in the sleeping bags last night. How will we explain those to Bob and Sally?”
“Can we clean the bags?” Mindy wanted to know.
“I guess we could. They’re synthetic-fill, so we can launder them. But we’ll have to find a big washing machine and a big dryer in a Laundromat somewhere.”
As we’d discussed the problem, we’d walked over to the joined bags. We undid the top zipper and threw the top halves to either side. There, beside our still-damp stains, were stains from dozens of other “track meets.” It looked like Bob and Sally had an active sex life.
She gave me a blank look, which I returned. Together, we laughed—mostly at ourselves: We’d aired out the bags every morning, but we hadn’t recognized what we had seen.
“So much for that problem,” I said. “If we let the bags air out while we pack up our other stuff, they’ll be dry when we’re ready to leave.
We did, and they were. Things dry quickly in the thin mountain air.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We took our time breaking camp. We were relaxed, and, to be truthful, we were reluctant to leave the wilderness after our week of solitude together.
The day promised to be hot, and there were no sources of good water between Belford Lake and the car, so we each filled and purified two water bottles. We carried stuff out to the trail, where we put our packs back together and shouldered them.
We took about four hours to reach the car. Even after being over the trail only a week earlier, I’d forgotten how steep it was in places, how loose the footing was on those steep parts, and how much care that required. (After my adventure on the north side of Lester Pass, I was inclined to respect loose rock.) Thus, it took us a little longer than I’d thought it would. Even so, we’d finished early in the afternoon.
In spite of the end-of-trip letdown we felt as we approached the parking lot, we were in high spirits. We had successfully traveled into little-visited wilderness, and returned. Moreover, we hadn’t just succeeded—we had enjoyed the trip. We had been able to depend only upon ourselves, and what we had brought with us. Both of us counted that a significant achievement in itself. The experience had taught us things—good things—about ourselves that we would not have learned otherwise. Even if we hadn’t fallen in love with each other, the trip would’ve been a treat.
Of course, we had fallen in love, and that made it much, much more than a mere treat. But we had not yet thought about the difficulties our love would face in the future.
We’d just taken off our packs, and leaned them against the car, when Mindy turned to me and threw herself into my arms. “We did it! We did it! I did it!” she shouted gleefully as she squeezed me.
“We did! You did! Was there ever any doubt?” I squeezed her back.
She loosened her grip, looked up at me. “Yeah!” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I wasn’t sure I could. Thanks for helping me believe in myself, Charlie. And thank you, thank you, thank you for planning such a great trip.”
“The planning was fun. And I never doubted that you could do it. Like I said the other bahis şirketleri day, you’re a good, strong, smart woman. And good, strong, smart women do things like this all the time.”
“Oh, Charlie, you’re so good to me.” She was squeezing me again, her head on my chest.
I took my arms from around her, gently cupped her face in my hands, and brought her back up to look at me.
“Mindy, dearest,” I said, “You’re the one who’s good to me.”
“Big Brother, I love you so!” She stood on tiptoe and puckered her lips.
“Little Sister, I love you back so!” And I puckered my own lips and bent down to kiss her.
As we kissed, we couldn’t help but notice that the maintenance interruption was over, and my equipment was back in service.
But we had promised Mom that we would call her from Pinedale as soon as we could, and we both reckoned that our promise took priority over what we wanted to do right there in the parking lot. So I dug the car keys out of my pack, and unlocked the car.
Before we’d left home, we’d reserved a motel room in Pinedale for this night. We’d known that once we were out of the backcountry, we would want showers, fresh food, and a good night’s sleep in real beds—and we’d want them before the long drive home. We hadn’t guessed, then, that we’d want to share a bed—and more—so we’d reserved a room with two beds. Not that it mattered—we could live with an extra bed.
We found the motel without any trouble. (Even if we hadn’t had a pretty good idea about where to look, Pinedale wasn’t big enough to hide a motel.) Registering was quick, and we paid cash on the spot.
The first-floor room was standard; it looked like any motel room you’d find anywhere in the country. We closed the window curtains, and we called Mom collect. She had been worried about us, and she was happy to hear our voices testifying that we had returned safely to civilization. Having taken the next afternoon off for the purpose, she would be home to greet us when we got there.
We didn’t think we needed to tell her that Pinedale, Wyoming, qualified only marginally as civilization. Nor did we mention my fall (my shin was now healing well, anyway). And, especially, we didn’t tell her that she’d destroyed any hopes we might’ve had for a quickie after we got home from Wyoming, but before she got home from work.
After I’d given Mom the basics, Mindy chatted with her for a while, mostly about how good the trip had been. While they chatted, I began bringing gear into the room.
I’d made two trips to the car and back when Mindy finished talking, and started helping me.
“I call the first shower!” she said brightly, moments after starting her first trip from the car to the room with an armload.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I replied. “I reckon that wouldn’t do at all.”
“What do you mean ‘That wouldn’t do’? You can’t have the first shower, because I called it before you even thought of it.” She was getting feisty about it.
“I don’t want the first shower, and neither do you.”
“What are you talking about, you big jerk? I do so get the first shower. I called it, and it’s mine!” She was getting downright belligerent.
“I reckon that there’s only going to be one shower this afternoon,” I allowed.
“Hunh?” She still hadn’t caught on.
“I reckon that there’s only going to be one shower this afternoon. We’re going to take it together.”
“Ooooooohh!” That was a new thought. A welcome one, too. Her belligerence was gone, and she grinned. “You were right all along. Two showers wouldn’t do at all. I guess a man can have a good idea sometimes. Do I get to wash you? Can I wash your ass? …your balls? …your dick?”
“I won’t be able to stop you. My hands will be too busy washing you. Especially your ass, and your tits, and your pussy.”
Spurred by the thought of washing each other in a shared shower, we had the car unloaded in record time. Anyone who might have been watching must surely have been mystified by the shit-eating grins on our faces.
Just seconds after delivering the last load and closing the door to the room, we both stood by the tub/shower wearing only our shit-eating grins—each with shampoo and bar of soap in hand.
Mindy liked her showers considerably hotter than I liked mine, and we had to negotiate to strike an acceptable compromise. We got that worked out, and we climbed in, drew the shower curtain, and crowded together in the flowing water.
“God! Already?” she asked. The boner I’d already grown was poking her.
“We aim to please,” I said.
“Men!” was her only comment.
I stepped out of the stream, poured some of her shampoo into my hand, set the bottle down, and rubbed my hands together.
“Get your hair wet, and then come here,” I said, “out of the water.”
She’d seen what I’d been doing, and cooperated cheerfully. Looking up at me, she stood on tiptoe, and puckered up. I bent over and kissed her, and she threw her arms around me and kissed me back. As I did so, I went to work on her hair, rubbing the shampoo into a mass of foam. We got tastes of the foam through our kiss, turned our heads, spat it out, and decided that we’d defer more kissing for a while.