Caroline and Joan showed up bright and early the next morning to take Sam home. An orderly wheeled him out to the curb in a wheelchair. Sam was a bit embarrassed at this, but he still did feel strangely weak, so he didn't protest too much.
When they got home his mother installed him on the sofa with a blanket and a pile of pillows to prop him up. Both she and his sister were particularly nice to him all day, fetching him things to read, drinks, and meals on a tray. Sam was pleased to realize how much he really meant to both of them. Not, he thought ruefully, that this kid-glove treatment was likely to last once he was fully recovered.
It was a quiet day. Caroline spent most of the time puttering around the house, doing housework that she'd been putting off for a while, paying bills. Joan stayed home as well, rather than going out with her friends. She helped with the housework, and brought her homework downstairs so that she could keep Sam company while she did it.
"Gina said that she would give me the homework you've missed tomorrow," Joan said. "That way you can get a head start on making it up."
"Don't remind me," Sam said with a groan. "I missed a test last week, and I'll bet Mrs. Gray won't be thrilled at having to make up another one for me."
Joan laughed, and rumpled his hair affectionately. "You just like to complain. Normally you say that algebra is so easy it's boring."
It being a Sunday, the three of them sat on the couch and watched "The X-Files" together. Sam noticed once again how very attractive both his mother and sister were as they sat on either side of him. In fact, they were both unconsciously leaning against him. After a while he put his arms around their shoulders; rather than protesting, they leaned into him, staying that way until the end of the show.
It was even more embarrassing to have the two of them help him up to his room at bedtime, but by the time Sam crawled into bed his legs were trembling. Apparently it would take a little while longer before he was completely recovered.
"Unfortunately, I have to go to work tomorrow," Caroline said, tucking the blanket up to his chin as if he were still a little boy. "And Joan can't miss school. But I talked to Mrs. Severson, and she said she would come over during the day to check on you, and get you lunch."
"I'll be fine," Sam said. "She doesn't need to do that."
"We still don't know what happened," Caroline said firmly, "and she was happy to help. If you're feeling better you can probably go back to school on Tuesday. Now, get some sleep."
She leaned over to kiss him good night. Instead of her usual kiss on the cheek, this time she kissed him warmly on the lips. To his even greater surprise, Joan also leaned over and kissed him.
"Sleep well, squirt," she said, and the two of them left the room.
Sam thought, with a little regret, of Jenny back at the hospital; but he quickly fell asleep even without her assistance.
The next day his mother helped him back down to the couch and made him comfortable before she and Joan left. Sam felt stronger, but still not quite back to his old self, and the faint rumbling in his head was still there, though now he barely noticed it. He looked forward to a rather dull day, but at least he had a good-sized stack of books and magazines to read.
Mrs. Severson showed up at about 11:30 to check on him. Sam was deep into a book by then, but he looked up and put it aside when he heard the scratch of the spare key in the lock and the door opening. Their neighbor was a pleasant woman in her mid-thirties, dark blonde and short with a very curvy figure. Sam rarely found her company very interesting, though his mother was friendly with her and he was always polite. Mrs. Severson's husband was older than her, graying and paunchy, and worked long hours at some mysterious kind of construction. He and Sam had rarely done more than nodded at each other, but Sam knew his wife, Laura, reasonably well.
It was a little embarrassing to have her checking on him, as if he needed a babysitter. But visually at least she was entertaining; Sam had more than once made surreptitious glances at her heavy breasts swaying beneath her dress.
Mrs. Severson started chatting as soon as she came in the door: exclamations over his "accident," comments about how much better he was looking, regrets about how much school he must have missed. Sam tried to answer politely, though the stream of questions and remarks hardly seemed to call for any input from him. She went into the kitchen to check his mother's provisions for lunch, then returned to make sure he was comfortable, tucking the blanket around him more closely.
She was wearing a blue checked dress that fit rather closely, and as she bent over to fuss with the blanket he could very clearly see her tits bobbing with her motions. He shifted his gaze as she looked up at him, but not quickly enough for her to fail to see the direction he had been staring. Sam blushed, but Mrs. Severson only laughed.
"Oooo, you're a naughty boy, aren't you Sam?" she said smilingly.
"I guess I am," Sam said sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
"Yes, you should be sorry," she agreed, but with amusement rather than anger. "Looking at my boobs like that. Really, very, very naughty."
Sam was a little surprised at her remark, but not as surprised as he might have been. A part of him seemed to expect her mild reaction.
"Yes, well, you have such nice boobs," he found himself saying. "I can hardly help liking them."
Mrs. Severson seemed to find this even more amusing. "So naughty!" she declared. "So, you like looking at my boobs, do you?"
"Yes," Sam agreed.
"I bet you'd like it even more if I took my dress off so you could see them better," she went on.
"Very much," Sam said.
"Well!" Mrs. Severson said, and turned around. "Since you're sick...can you reach the zipper for me?"
Sam unzipped the back of her dress, and Mrs. Severson stood and wriggled out of it. She was wearing a very serviceable white lycra bra, and turned to let him look at her. "Well?" she said challengingly.
"They're very, very nice," Sam said. "But..."
"But what?" she demanded.
"But I'd like it even better if you took your bra off."
"You really are remarkably naughty," Mrs. Severson said. She reached behind her and unhooked the bra, tossing it aside. Her breasts were larger than Jenny's had been, with big dark nipples. She was now wearing only a pair of panties and tennis shoes.
"You have beautiful breasts," Sam said admiringly.
"Thank you! But I suppose you would like it even better if I let you touch them?"
"And kiss them, too?"
"And suck on my big nipples?"
"Yes, very much."
"I don't think I've ever met a boy so naughty," Mrs. Severson said, sitting by him on the edge of the couch and leaning forward. Sam spent a long time fondling her breasts, cupping them in his hands, rolling her taut nipples between his fingers, running his tongue in lazy spirals around the aureoles, drawing them far into his mouth and sucking them. Mrs. Severson kept commenting on how really naughty she thought he was, but Sam could tell how much pleasure this was giving her. After ten minutes or so her breath began coming short, and little moans started interrupting her remarks. After a bit she stopped talking altogether, merely cradling his head against her tits and groaning. Shortly afterwards a flush suddenly burst out over her skin; her muscles seemed to contract, and she gave a little cry. Sam realized that she had orgasmed from the attentions he had given her breasts.
"Well!" Mrs. Severson -- or Laura, as he was now thinking of her -- drew back a little shakily. "Since you've taken so much time with your naughtiness, I'd better get busy and make lunch." She got up and went into the kitchen, but Sam noted that she didn't bother to get dressed.
She brought him his lunch on a tray, and he sat up to eat it. Laura brought a tray for herself as well, and sat in a chair facing him. They ate together in companionable silence, Sam glancing up appreciatively from time to time to admire Laura's bare tits. He noticed that in the kitchen she'd removed her shoes and socks, so that all she wore now was a pair of panties.
Sam finished his lunch, and Laura cleared away both of their trays. When she returned, she sat back on the same chair and gave him a teasing smile.
"Well, naughty boy. Would you like some dessert?"
"I think I would," Sam said.
"Well!" Laura stood up and slid her panties off, then sat again with her legs open. Sam could see her moist pussy, looking swollen through the luxuriant thatch of her pubic hair. Laura settled down a bit more in the chair, smiling invitingly.
"Why don't you try this, then?" she asked.
Sam got up. His strength was almost completely restored, he discovered. Kneeling between her legs, he leaned forward and gave a tentative lick. Laura sighed with pleasure. He found the taste actually pleasant, and began steadily licking. Sam had read about eating women out in his magazines, but he'd never done it. Instinct seemed to guide him. He quickly had Laura moaning and begging: "Oh, yes, yes, that's just right, oh, yes, please keep going...oh..." Her fingers stroked his hair and cheeks. As her excitement mounted, Sam started sliding fingers in and out of her in time with his licks, first one finger, then two, then most of his hand. With a shriek, Laura came. Her thighs clamped down on his head spasmodically, then released. She pulled him up to her and kissed him frantically, her own juices smearing on her face. After a minute or two she calmed, her grip on him easing.
"That was...very nice, naughty boy," she said breathlessly. "But now it's time for my dessert."
Sam was wearing only a t-shirt and shorts. In only a few seconds Laura had removed them and was kissing and licking over his body. Her tongue swirled over his own nipples, then she lowered and took his cock in her mouth. Jenny had done that, but not the way Laura did. She sucked steadily, moving her tongue over the head of his penis, bobbing her head to take him in and out of her mouth. Sam closed his eyes, savoring the exquisite sensations. He felt that he could last as long as he wishes, and come as many times as he liked. He let her suck him for several minutes before finally coming, a surge of semen flooding into her mouth and flowing down her throat. She swallowed as if it were the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
In spite of having just come, Sam was still perfectly hard. He withdrew from Laura's mouth. Almost roughly, he pulled her to her feet and pushed her down onto the couch, kneeling between her legs. The tip of his cock found the opening of her pussy and he pushed in. Laura gave a little groan of delight.
"Oooo, you naughty boy...putting your great big cock in my wet snatch," she gasped. "Are you trying to fuck me?"
"I am fucking you," Sam said, starting to pump in and out of her with great energy.
"That's right...you are fucking me...fucking my nice, warm cunt..." Laura was barely coherent through the haze of pleasure he was giving her. It took only a few minutes to bring her to another powerful orgasm. Sam had not come yet, but he wanted to try something different. Pulling out of her, he told Laura to roll over. Dazedly, she complied, lying on her stomach and spreading her legs. Sam parted her ass cheeks and pushed the tip of cock into her tight asshole.
Laura gave a loud grunt, but didn't resist. "The naughty boy...is going to fuck my ass..." she murmured. "Oh, he makes me feel so, so good..."
Encouraged by this, Sam pushed in further. It felt very different from her pussy, very tight, with much more friction. After only a few thrusts he came inside her powerfully. At the feel of his seed in her, Laura came again as well. The two of them lay together exhaustedly. Sam let himself soften, and pulled out of her. After resting a while, Laura stirred and got up. She fetched a damp cloth from the kitchen and cleaned them both up. Sam let his hands roam idly over her body while she did this, which she seemed to enjoy. After finishing, she quickly dressed again and prepared to leave.
"Well, I hope you're feeling better soon, Sam," Laura told him. "But if you need me to check on you again, I'd be happy to do it -- anytime."
Sam kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth as her lips parted under his. "I'll be sure to let you know...naughty girl," he said, and she was still chuckling as she left.
By the time Joan got home from school, Sam was back on the couch, reading as though nothing had happened. Joan called "Yo!" to him as she went clattering up the stairs to her room to drop her book-bag. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and brought them back down to him.
"Here," Joan said, handing him the papers, and settling down into the chair. He was looking a lot better, she thought. "This is the work you missed; Gina gave it to me."
"Thanks a lot," Sam said, flipping through it. "Not too bad. Hopefully I can finish most of it tonight. I appreciate it, sis."
"No problem, squirt," Joan said, grinning at him. When she'd heard about his collapse she'd been really frightened for him. Though she would never have admitted it before, she had always been fond of her younger brother. They had quarreled fairly often, as any two kids so close in age would do; but there had always been a friendliness there, as well. Now she was just happy to see him so well. She watched him as he looked over the homework with the intent expression he often used. He was really rather handsome, she thought idly. It had never really struck her before. Sam looked up and caught her looking at him; Joan blushed a bit, unaccountably, but Sam gave her a smile that made her smile as well. Really, quite handsome. Sexy, even.
"So, did you have a good day?" Joan asked him.
"It was all right."
"Mrs. Severson look in on you?"
"Yeah. She made me lunch, and we talked a while. She's nice," he added.
"I thought she kind of annoyed you, sometimes," Joan said curiously.
"Well, sometimes. But not today." He looked back down at his papers, and Joan got up.
"I've got to take a shower," she said. "I'm going out tonight."
"Who with?" Sam asked without looking up.
"Just some friends. It's not a date, or anything." Why had she said that? It didn't matter to him. With an inward shrug she went upstairs to the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she looked at herself critically in the mirror. For a long time she had despaired of ever developing a figure, but in the last couple of years her breasts and hips had really sprouted. She wasn't voluptuous -- not as much as her mother, who really had a body to die for -- but nicely curved. She could often feel boys' eyes clinging to her trim figure as she walked by, or having to force themselves to keep looking at her face rather than her chest as she talked to them. Sometimes this annoyed her, and sometimes it amused her, but she would rather have it than not.
Joan brushed back her neck-length, red-brown hair and examined her face. Green eyes, like her mother; her face still had some of the roundness of childhood, but a hint of cheekbones was now present. Maybe in a few years she would be as pretty as Mom, she thought. She hoped so.
She stepped into the shower and adjusted the temperature to her liking, then soaped herself up. For some reason the touch of her own skin seemed more sensual than usual. Running her hands over her body, she turned under the spray. I wonder if Sam thinks I'm pretty, she thought. Of course, I don't know what his tastes are; he's never had a girlfriend...
Almost reluctantly she turned off the water and dried herself. Normally she would have put on her bathrobe before going to her room, but it seemed silly to bother with it when there was just Sam in the house. The air felt deliciously cool on her skin as she went to her room. Sam was evidently still down in the living room. Without bothering to close her door, Joan went in and got fresh underwear out of her drawer. She rummaged through the closet; what should she wear tonight? There were two or three possible outfits, but she wasn't sure. With a sigh of vexation she took several hangers of clothes out of the closet and walked downstairs.
Sam looked up with a slightly startled expression as she came into the room. Joan realized that she was still wearing only panties and a bra. But then Sam smiled, and she dismissed it as unimportant. He was just her brother, after all.
"I need your advice," Joan told him. "I'm having trouble picking out what to wear tonight." She held different articles of clothing up to her body as she spoke. "I could wear this top with this skirt...or I could wear this top with these pants, and my jean jacket...or I could wear this dress. What do you think?"
Sam watched, seeming a little bemused. "Well...I think you'd look great in any of them."
Joan felt warm at this compliment. So he did think she was pretty. "You're sweet," she said, "but which one looks best?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I'd have to see them on you."
"OK," Joan agreed. She hung the hangers on the mantel piece and put on the first top and skirt. Feeling Sam's appreciative eyes on her, she twirled in front of him. Quickly she stripped them off again and changed into the second top and pants. The pants were tight jeans, and she knew how they hugged her hips and ass. She wriggled a little as she turned to display this outfit. Third was the dress. It was longer than the skirt, but the neckline was daringly low.
"So," she said, "which do you think?"
"Well, they're all great," he said. "As a guy I guess I'd go for the dress. But since it isn't a date...maybe the jeans?"
"Yeah," Joan agreed. "Maybe. But...as a guy, wouldn't you like them, too?"
"Sure," Sam said quickly. "They make you look really hot. With the dress it was the neckline."
"If I left the top two buttons undone," Joan mused, "I could still show plenty of cleavage."
"If that's what you want," Sam said, and Joan started.
"Yeah...of course." She took off the dress again and put it back on the hanger. "I'd better get dressed before Mom gets home. Thanks, little brother."
She went over to give him a quick kiss of thanks. She intended it for his cheek, but somehow it landed on his lips, and lasted a little longer than she had meant. Joan was acutely aware of her tits pressed against his chest. It felt really, really nice.
She pulled back and picked up the clothes, then went back upstairs, feeling oddly flustered. I wonder if models feel like this, she thought absently. Feeling the eyes on them. She felt a warm tingle which was strangely pleasant. After a moment, she hung the clothes in the closet and closed her door. Removing her bra and panties she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. One hand moved to her breasts, the other between her legs, and began stroking. She should have time to finish before Mom came home, and until she did she wouldn't be able to concentrate on a thing.
Caroline Raven got home to find her kids sitting quietly together at the kitchen table doing their homework. Sam looked much better, and she felt a little surge of relief at seeing him so well. She had been so frightened for him -- frightened that he would never wake, that she would lose him, as she'd lost his father.
Joan was dressed to go out, in a pair of tight jeans and a shirt with the top three buttons unfastened. I really shouldn't let her dress so provocatively, Caroline thought absently, but she does look nice. And so does Sam. They're really handsome kids; and growing up so fast! Oh, well. It wasn't as if Joan were going out with a boy; just with some of her girlfriends. Joan did date a bit, but as far as Caroline knew she had no special boyfriend. Time enough to worry about that yet! She just hoped when Joan did find one that he would be trustworthy. It wasn't an issue she could raise with Joan; their relationship was a little too touchy for that, though shared worry about Sam had brought them closer recently.
Sam and Joan both got up to set the table, but Joan made him sit down again even though he claimed to feel perfectly well. Caroline made dinner, and they ate together, talking about their days.
"Did Mrs. Severson look after you?" Caroline asked Sam.
For some reason this question seemed to amuse him, but he answered "Yes. She was very nice."
After dinner both Sam and Joan cleared the table, at Sam's insistence. With the dishwasher running, Joan hung out with Sam and Caroline at the kitchen table until her friends arrived. Afterwards, Caroline sat and read a book to relax, while Sam continued to work on his homework. When he finally finished, the two of them played cards for a while. It was fun. She really should spend more time with her kids.
Joan came home earlier than usual, and surprisingly decided to join in the game. Really, it was remarkably pleasant. Caroline couldn't remember the last time they'd all done something together, except at meal times, yet here they were, chatting and laughing over a silly game of cards. At length, Sam finally said that if he was going back to school in the morning he should get some sleep. Caroline was surprised to realize that it was after eleven; time had just flown by.
"Yes, we should all go to bed," she said, gathering the cards together and putting a rubber band around them. "I didn't realize how late it was. Good night, sweetheart." She leaned over the table and kissed him good night, his lips warm against hers. She was oddly aware of her nipples rubbing against the inside of her blouse. It must be a little chilly in here, she thought. That was it.
"Good night." Joan kissed Sam as well, which was unusual, but it was good they were getting on so well. Caroline made sure the doors were locked and turned out all the lights downstairs, while the kids went up to get ready for bed. By the time she got to her bedroom both Joan and Sam had their doors closed, with no light showing. Caroline closed her own door and brushed her teeth in her bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. Not too bad for a woman with two kids practically grown up. Caroline had married Joan and Sam's father right out of high school, and she was only thirty-nine now. Her parents hadn't at all liked her marrying a half-breed, or marrying so young; she'd barely had contact with them the whole time she was married to James, and rarely saw or heard from them even now. After he had died, she'd gone back to school and finished her degree while raising two small children, with no help from her parents at all. It should have taken its toll, but there was little sign of it in her unlined face.
Caroline did something she hadn't done in a while. Before putting on her nightgown, she looked at herself nude in the floor-length mirror of her bedroom. Really, she still looked good, even after two kids and almost forty years. She turned and looked at her breasts, which sagged only a very little. She touched them, and they still felt firm. There was a little softness around her belly and rear, and she made a mental note to get to the gym more often. But still, plenty there to attract a man, if she'd ever had time for one, or met one who wanted a woman with teenaged children. A man like her husband. Sam was really remarkably like him, Caroline thought, hefting her breasts again absently. Same dark looks; same intensity. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of her hands on her own body. It had been a long time.
Oh, well, she thought, putting on her nightgown and getting into bed. Maybe she'd meet another man like that someday. Someday.
The next morning Sam felt as strong as he ever had, or even stronger. His muscles moved easily. He felt awake and alert, his senses especially keen. The faint roaring in his head was still there, but he barely noticed it now. It had become almost a part of him, oddly comforting.
Caroline, looking fetching in her well-cut business suit, gave her reluctant consent for him to walk to school along with Joan. The school was only a few blocks away; handy, since Caroline couldn't afford a second car for the two of them. Sam and Joan walked together in comfortable silence, not arm in arm, but close enough for their hands to occasionally brush. Sam felt content, and Joan seemed to enjoy his company, but feel no need to talk.
At school they separated and went to their different classes. Sam's appearance attracted a fair bit of attention. Everyone had heard about his collapse in the museum, and he felt many curious eyes on him; looking for evidence of brain damage, perhaps, he thought with amusement. Those who spoke to him, though, were friendly. His teachers made a special point of asking him how he was and congratulating him on his recovery, as did a number of his fellow students, including some he had never been particularly friendly with.
The biggest surprise was when Katarina Miller stopped by his locker between classes to ask how he was feeling. Katarina was widely considered to be the most beautiful girl in his class, with long, perfect blonde hair, full lips, high cheekbones, and a slim but definitely womanly figure. She had never given any evidence of knowing that Sam existed before, though they shared a couple of classes.
"I'm fine," Sam said to her easily. "Thanks for asking."
"If I can do...you know, anything to help," Katarina said, tossing her honey-blonde curls back and smiling, "just let me know."
"Thanks," Sam said. "I will. See you in class." He watched Katarina saunter off with a noticeable sway, as if she were inviting him to look after her.
"Boy," Cameron said in his ear, "I'm ready to collapse into a coma any time you say, if that's the kind of interest you get."
Sam laughed and turned back to his friends. They kept their lockers together, as they did most things. "It's just being sick. Girls find it interesting. Brings out their maternal instincts, or something."
"Yeah," said Gina skeptically. "She looked real maternal." Imitating Katarina's breathy voice, Gina said "If I can do...anything...to help, just let me know." She added a flutter of eyelashes and an exaggerated sway of the hips. "Anything at all..." Laughing, she ducked away as Sam threw a mock-punch at her.
"Speaking of help," Sam changed the subject, "could you guys come over to help me study for the algebra test Thursday night? Mrs. Gray said she'd give me the make-up test on Friday after school."
"Sure, I'll be there," Gina said promptly, but Cameron shook his head.
"No can do. Choir practice." Gina hooted a little at that, and Cameron pretended to glare at her. "You don't need my help anyway...you're both better at algebra than me."
"No problem," Sam said. "Thanks, Gina."
Sam had plenty to think about for the rest of the day. First Jenny, in the hospital; then Laura -- Mrs. Severson. Today, Katarina Miller was practically coming on to him, and some of the other girls, too...even some of his teachers. And his sister and mother seemed to have been affected, somewhat, as well.
What was more, he himself had been affected. He remembered how comfortable he had felt, talking to Katarina; how easily he had accepted the actions of Jenny and Laura. His old shyness around women was gone. Instead, he felt confident, strong, secure in his attractiveness and sexual prowess. The actions of the women around him seemed, more and more, to be just what was appropriate. After all, what was the big deal about sex? It was a way of sharing pleasure, a great deal of pleasure, with people you liked or loved. There was nothing wrong about it. And he felt confident that he would share it with a great many women; as many as he liked.
After school he walked home alone. Joan had dance class after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Large drops of rain were starting to fall just as he made it home. Feeling a little chilly, he lit the gas fire in the living room and took out his homework. Might as well get it out of the way.
He had just finished it when Joan got home. It was raining steadily by then, and she was soaked to the skin. She dropped off her backpack and came into the living room to stand by the fire. She was still in her dance clothes, which offered little protection from the rain.
"I guess we should have listened to the weather report this morning," she commented. Her auburn hair was plastered to her head, and her leotard clung wetly to her skin, taut nipples visible through the fabric.
"I guess so," Sam said. "Sorry you got wet."
"No biggie," Joan said, turning to warm her other side. "The fire feels nice."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Joan said. She shook her head and started to leave. "I'll just go change clothes and dry my hair."
Sam heard the blow-drier start as he was tucking his completed homework away in his book bag. It sounded somewhat louder than usual. Wandering up to his room, he realized why. Joan had left her door open, and was standing nude in front of her mirror, blow-drying her hair. She looked up as he walked by and blushed a little, but made no effort to close the door or cover herself. Not wanting to stare, Sam continued to his room. She really did have a nice body. He'd rarely seen it before today.
He was lounging on his bed reading when the blow-drier stopped. A few minutes later Joan appeared in this doorway. She had changed into a t-shirt and shorts, her usual clothes for hanging around the house.
"So, what's up?" Sam asked, setting his book aside.
"Not much," Joan said, leaning against the door frame. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel fine," Sam said. "I feel great. Are you going out tonight?"
"No...not tonight," Joan said.
"Too bad!" Sam joked, and when Joan looked a little hurt he quickly added, "I mean, no fashion show today."
"Oh!" Joan said. After a little thought she added, "Well...I mean, we could. If you wanted to. I could show you some of my outfits."
"Sure," Sam said, intrigued. "Why not?"
"OK." Joan said brightly. "Wait here. I'll just be a minute." She ran back to her room and started going through her closet.
When she reappeared in his doorway she was wearing a short skirt and middle-baring top. Her long dancer's legs were shown to excellent effect as she slowly turned in front of him.
"Jeez, sis, you look really hot!" Sam said, then blushed. "Sorry!"
"Don't apologize," Joan said, looking pleased. "Do you really think so?"
"Yeah," Sam said. "You've really got some body."
"Huh," Joan said, and struck an attitude. "What about my face? Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Sure," Sam said. "You know you are."
"I don't know," Joan said doubtfully, dropping the pose. "I always think my face is kind of round. I wish I looked more like Mom."
"You and Mom are both gorgeous," Sam said. "You don't have to look alike."
"Huh," said Joan again. Though Sam couldn't tell this, his words were arousing her strongly. Joan really liked that her brother thought she was sexy. As sexy as she thought him.
"Let me get something else," she said, and vanished back to her room. While Sam watched, commenting appreciatively, she paraded a series of outfits in front of him. A tight dress with a slit up one leg; another miniskirt, with a man's shirt left partially unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up; tight pants and an equally tight top, that outlined her firm young breasts clearly; a dress with spaghetti-straps, that showed the top of her cleavage above the low neckline.
"And now," Joan called from around the corner, "the piece de resistance..."
Sam was stunned as she walked into his room. She was wearing a bikini from last summer. Their mother had not been happy about it at the time, and had only given in after a long campaign of whining and begging on Joan's part. It had been pretty revealing at the time, but Joan had grown some since then. The cups of the top barely contained her swelling breasts; the bottom was plastered to her like a second skin. Her nipples were firmly erect, poking into the fabric.
"Wow!" was all Sam could think of to say, but it was the right thing. Joan smiled.
"So, you like it?" she asked, twirling in front of his admiring gaze.
"It's incredible," he said. "Sis, you've got a body to die for."
"You think so?" Adopting a sultry air, she walked towards him. "Would you die for it, little brother?"
Sam looked up at her from where he sat on the bed. He knew what was happening now, and he accepted it. "I guess I would."
"You're sweet," Joan said in a low voice, suddenly serious. Sam got to his feet. They were standing almost nose to nose, but Joan didn't retreat.
"So are you," Sam said, and kissed her.
The kiss was tentative at first, little more than they had already done, but it deepened. Sam put his hands on Joan's waist and pulled her against him, feeling her aroused tits touching his chest. They were almost the same height. Joan's arms went around his neck, and her lips parted. Almost shyly, their tongues touched, then her tongue slipped into his mouth.
"Oh, God," Joan said when they paused for breath. "I didn't mean...but I wanted it so much..."
"Me, too," said Sam. He pulled her into another kiss. Running his hands up her back, he untied the bikini top and pulled it off. She grasped the bottom of his t-shirt; he raised his arms and she pulled it off over his head. Their hands began exploring each other's bodies. Sam kneaded the muscles of her arms and back. Joan's fingers grazed lightly over his chest, exciting his nipples. He slid his hands over her smooth stomach, up to her breasts, more than a handful each, feeling the erect tips press into his palms. Joan gave a little whimpering sound of pleasure. Sam lowered his mouth to her tits and began teasing them with his lips and tongue, remembering vividly his treatment of Mrs. Severson yesterday.
"Oh," Joan breathed, "oh, that feels so, so good."
"I can make you feel better," Sam said, straightening again and kissing her, tracing her lips with his tongue.
"I...I want you to," Joan said. "Please, Sam, do it..."
Sam lowered her onto his bed. She raised her hips to help him slide the bikini bottoms off of her. Her cunt was less hairy than Laura's had been, but he recognized the same signs of arousal. He quickly stripped off his own shorts and underwear. Her eyes focused on his erect cock, and she licked her lips.
"I didn't know you were so big," Joan said, sounding half-excited, half-nervous.
"Don't have much basis for comparison," Sam said. "They say size doesn't matter."
Joan laughed a little. "I guess we'll find out."
"Spread your legs," Sam suggested, and Joan immediately complied. He knelt between them and gently stroked her pussy with his fingers, drawing a startled gasp of pleasure from her.
"That feels...so much better than when I do it," Joan said weakly.
"So...are you a virgin?" Sam asked.
"Umm. No, I'm not," Joan said. "I did it with Jimmy Sullivan last year. Only the once, though."
"Jimmy Sullivan, huh?" Sam said. He would never have guessed; she hadn't seemed to care about Jimmy more than any of the other boys she'd dated. Maybe she hadn't. "How was it?"
"Well," Joan said, "it hurt some. And, well, that was basically it."
"Huh," Sam said. He leaned forward over her, supporting himself easily on his arms, and put the tip of his cock against her pussy, drawing a little moan of anticipation from her. "Well, let's see if we can't do a bit better than that."
He pushed into her a little ways, then withdrew; pushed in again, a little further, then withdrew; rubbed the tip of his cock over her slit a bit, before pushing in again. Each motion provoked a gasp or a moan of pleasure from Joan. He pushed in further and started a slow rhythm, pausing from time to time to pull out and rub over her again. The second time he did that Joan shuddered violently under him, and he knew she had orgasmed, a small one. He slid back into her and began pumping steadily, quickly bringing her back to a state of high arousal. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him passionately; she kissed over his face and neck, nibbling at his earlobes. Sam twisted a bit and managed to get one of her nipples in his mouth; sucking and licking in time with the motions of his cock inside her, he knew he was driving her out of her mind with pleasure. A second orgasm was approaching quickly; Sam let his own arrive at the same time. As Joan came with a wild cry he erupted inside her, spraying into her welcoming cunt; pulling out, he came a second time, spurting thick ropes of cum onto her lower belly. He shifted off of her and settled by her side on the bed, pulling her into his arms.
"That was...incredible," Joan said, stars shining in her eyes. "That was the most incredible thing I've ever experienced."
"I'm glad you liked it," Sam said, feeling a little smug.
"Liked it! I loved it!" Joan said. "I want to do it every hour on the hour!"
"That could get inconvenient during school," Sam said, and they both laughed. Joan kissed him and settled contentedly into his arms. After a bit she slid a hand down and scooped up a bit of his semen on one finger.
"Did you...come inside me, as well?" she asked.
"Yes, I did," Sam said.
"Good!" she said, surprising him. "I wanted you to." Extending her tongue delicately, she licked her finger and arched her eyebrows. "That's not bad!" she said. Scooping up a bit more, she stuck the finger in her mouth. "Not bad at all!" she said.
Sam wondered if he could have gotten her pregnant; but the same certainty that had guided his actions told him somehow that he had not. In fact, he felt the odd conviction that he would not impregnate anyone unless he specifically wanted to. It was all part of the strangeness that had begun since he touched the little statue in the museum, but he trusted it. Something had changed him, and this was part of the change.
After a while they both got up and cleaned themselves off. When they were done, Sam positioned Joan back on his bed and ate her out, bringing her to another screaming orgasm. Then he showed her how to give him a blowjob. She sucked him off with apparent pleasure, and enjoyed the taste of his cum as much as she had the first time.
"Let's go down to the living room," Sam suggested, getting up again.
"Why?" Joan asked, following him willingly enough.
"The fire is still on," Sam said, "and I want to make love to you by firelight."
Joan giggled, but didn't decline. "You are a sucker for romance. But I like it."