                              
                      Salt Water Taffy
                             34
                       An Erotic Story
                              
     When I left home my baby sister was only eleven, an
unexpected present for my parents; as she was born when I
was already seven years old.  Mom and Dad hadn't really
expected they could have still kids by then; as Mom was
pushing thirty-two already; and she hadn't caught in over
six years of unprotected sex.  Still, you'd think they had
been working for years to have a second child the way they
greeted the little girl and likely spoiled her rotten.  Not
that I had any complaints with my own raising.  Being an
only child for so long, I guess I got my share of spoiling
too; and by the time Candy came along I wasn't feeling
threatened by my baby sister taking over the spot I'd made
myself.  Besides, the kid was *cute*.   ;-}
     Somehow during her early years I found myself doing a
lot of what some people would call "babysitting"; but was
more just having the little squirt as company.  As she grew
older into three, four, and then five years old, Candy was
more of a barely noticed shadow following me around like a
well-trained puppy.  She looked up to me not just as an
older brother but like somebody who knew everything and
could do no wrong.
     Even when I was getting into and out of trouble with
girlfriends, Candy was always on my side; never interfering
or tattling on me to Mom and Dad, even when I snuck Marcia
Jones over one afternoon and the two of us spent close to
four hours in bed together.  I think Marcia, Marylin (and
perhaps two or three other girls as well) would have been
quite surprised to know my baby sister was spying on us
through the corner of the door that all of us kids knew
about, and getting quite a sex-education for a sprout that
hadn't even entered kindergarten yet, let alone the first
grade.  Heck, it wasn't until after the start of this story
that I myself learned the full extent of Candy's spying.
     Explaining to the kid exactly what was going on
*afterwards* was so embarrassing though, that I pretty much
arranged (most of, and I thought) my trysts well away from
my little sister's snooping from then on.  Little did I know
that she just got sneakier.  No, I never once thought of
doing anything sexual with Candy, even when at eleven she
started having periods shortly before I left for college.
She was my *little sister* after all, not a "real woman".
Not only that; but she was just a kid.  I never even
imagined the squirt being interested in sex at all; in spite
of my own obsession about "doing it" from years earlier than
Candy was.  After all, girls don't like sex as much as boys
do ... do they?  With my own experiences with the opposite
sex, you'd think I would have known better.  Girls do ...
Yes, even little girls like Candy.
     Candy ... I suppose I should explain my sister's name.
My parents, particularly my mom, have this thing they
*think* is a sense of humor.  My dad's name is Mark T.
Caine.  *His* parents thought they were being cute; as in
the mark of Cain when they noticed a birthmark on his back,
where (thankfully) nobody could usually see it.  And his
sister, my aunt, was named (You guessed it) "Sugar Caine".
Ick.
     Me?  I got off lucky in comparison (I think).  My first
name is Walker.  No, I'm *not* telling you my middle name.
     Still, I've got to say the moniker fit my baby sister
quite well.  Candy Caine was truly "as sweet as candy".
Sometimes when the kid was about three or four and had just
started talking well, I used to twig her about what kind of
candy she was; and if she was sweet enough to eat.  Toffee
was one of the commoner types; or when she'd been playing in
the mud I'd kid the kid about being chocolate or chocolate
covered cherry ... not even realizing myself at the time
what a double-entendre that was.  After all, I was just
barely getting into puberty myself.  You'd think I might
have twigged to the joke from my parents' giggles; but I
never did ... then, anyway.
     The commonest candy, candy we all loved, was Taffy.  If
you ever saw the kid at about three, face all sticky from
eating sweets, pink, round, and cute as a barrel of kittens,
you'd know why I sometimes thought of my sister Candy as
Salt Water Taffy.
     Have you ever actually *made* taffy yourself?
     Mom had a habit of making taffy at parties held at our
house.  It was a family tradition.  Mom had this *long*
wooden board she'd inherited from her own grandmother she'd
get out while putting a pot on the stove.  Once we saw the
candy board come out we all knew we were in for a treat.
     Oh, Mom didn't just make taffy on the board.  Sometimes
she'd make real lemon drops or, when close to Christmas,
cinnamon sticks which were prepared similar to taffy.
Still, mostly it was taffy.  Mom would fix up this
concoction that was mainly just sugar and water, with maybe
a touch of salt.  It seemed funny at the time; but she'd add
water to dissolve the sugar ... and then boil away all the
water!  Since that sometimes took as long as an hour or so,
it made you wonder why sometimes.  Still, the result was ...
delicious.
     Mom would then test the boiling mixture, once it
started making *big* bubbles in the pan.  She tried to show
me the difference; but I never did figure out the difference
between "hard ball" stage and "soft crack"; which was
supposedly the right time to pull taffy.
     Ah ... Pulling taffy ....
     Does *anybody* do that these days outside of
professional candy makers?  We did.  Mom would roll the
gooey mixture out onto a pre-greased candy board, roll it
out into one big long snake, and then invite everybody in
the family to join in the taffy-pull.  If you've never
pulled taffy, then you have a treat coming.  Everybody would
butter up their hands (to keep the gooey candy from
sticking) and then grab a rope he/she thought the person
could pull.  The grownups taking several inch thick ropes
and often working together, while us kids would grab smaller
hunks about the thickness of my thumb ... and then we'd
pull.
     Yeah, pull.  You'd take your rope, stretch it out as
FAR as you could until it was about to drop, then fold it
over, once, sometimes even twice, and then pull it again.
If you were making cinnamon-sticks, you'd stop after about a
half-dozen such pulls, Mom would add flavoring and color to
about 1/4 of what you had, and then you'd pull it about
twice or three times more until it was properly striped and
set it aside to harden and be cut into shapes.  Proper
TAFFY, on the other hand, you kept on pulling until it
softened and became white and sticky, at which time Mom
would add a *tiny* bit of flavoring and coloring; and you'd
pull *that* until it was smooth and even all the way
through.
     When done (if you weren't a kid and were already eating
the stuff you'd pulled) you'd lay it on the big board and
Mom would cut the soft gooey stuff into bite-sized hunks
that we'd later wrap in waxed paper.  Yum!
     You can buy pretty good Salt Water Taffy from
commercial candymakers; especially the expensive ones like
out at the State Fair; but nothing is as good as the stuff
you pulled your very own self.
     My little sister was just that cute, just that sweet,
and just that tasty ... as I found out *much* later.
     
     At 18, I went off to college, like many kids do; and
never really went back.  Four years getting my sheepskin;
and then I accepted a job-offer three states away in
Northern California, about five miles from the coast.  I
only came home for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and two other
times in the summer.  The parents came to visit me in my new
digs about five times during college, and twice since.  It's
a pretty long haul.
     About the only thing I really noticed about Candy
during that time was that the kid was sprouting into a real
girl; and that she had taken over *my* old room; so I had to
use hers when visiting (now the "guest" bedroom).
     However, when Mom and Dad asked me if I could put up
with my little sister for about two or three weeks while
they went on a "second honeymoon", I was pleased and
delighted.  After all, what trouble could a little kid get
into in only two weeks with her big brother?
     I arranged with my boss to take the same three weeks
off that Mom and Dad were; losing only one week of "personal
time" since I had only two weeks of actual vacation time
coming.  It was worth it.  Mom and Dad *deserved* a little
time off.
     What I *didn't* expect, was the beautiful *young woman*
who jumped in my arms as our parents dropped Candy off on
their way to their own private getaway.  Candy was wearing
(quite appropriate for the hot muggy weather) a short little
tube-top that barely covered firm young breasts that I
guessed to be at least `C' cups and possibly even larger, a
short micro-mini that looked more like a belt; which didn't
really hide at all the lacey white panties underneath,
belted sandals, and (as far as I could tell) nothing else
other than a smile ... A *big* smile for her big brother ...
me.
     I couldn't help but wrap my arms around the girl as she
practically jumped into them, looked me straight in the eye,
and then *kissed* me about as soundly as I've ever been
kissed.  Yes, even by girlfriends.  Many girls just don't
like to kiss ... even girls I've known that actually *fuck*
on the first date.  Candy however, tilted her head to one
side and gave me a warm loving bus that involuntarily caused
my mouth to open ... and I almost fell down in astonishment
as I felt her tongue meet mine!
     "Is that a flashlight in your pocket, Sailor?  Or are
you just glad to see me?" she kidded.  Oh GOD!  Our parents
were going to *kill* us ... or at least me anyway.
     Only I looked over at Mom and Dad; and they were both
grinning at the two of us.  Dad just shook his head, then
apologized about how they had to be going NOW, before they
missed their boat.  Boat?  Ah well, they weren't telling
more.
     "Well, I can see that you two are going to get along,"
Mom grinned up at me.
     Actually, that's what I was afraid of ... suddenly.
The cute, SEXY teenager standing by my side was nothing like
the shy, quiet, bony, and awkward little 10-year-old I'd
remembered from three years earlier; nor even the slightly
better filled-out 12-year-old I'd barely noticed last year
at Thanksgiving.  This cute and nubile young sexpot had not
only filled out in ALL the right places; but was practically
an open invitation to sex.
     I didn't *dare* have the kid in the same house with me
... especially not since I was between girlfriends at the
moment, and had been for over three ... or was it now four
months already.  My prick was about to burst out of my pants
at the mere presence of a nubile and sexy young female.
However, before I could even start to object it was too
late, as Dad put the small rented car in reverse and backed
out of the driveway; yelling, "Now you take good care of
your baby sister while we're gone, Y'hear?"
     Candy stood there in the driveway, looking just as
sweet, sexy, and (Could I be imagining?) wet and sticky as
her name ... Sweet, soft, and sticky Salt Water Taffy.  I
felt like my head was about to pop and my skin was on fire
from either embarrassment or perhaps even sexual arousal.
Damn.  A guy just does *not* get the hots for his own baby
sister.  No, not even one as hot, sexy, and horny as Candy
obviously was.  These next two weeks were going to be
miserable, just trying to keep my hands off the kid ... and
Candy, damn her sexy little hide, didn't seem to want her
big brother to keep his nasty pedophile hands to himself.
Geesh, if nothing else, at only thirteen, the kids was
*jailbait*.
     That thought cooled me down a bit; though my arms still
almost burned from where they'd contacted my little sister's
bare skin in that welcome-hug that I'd likely never forget
and even be dreaming about when they laid me to rest in my
grave.
     "C'mon," I growled, "Let's get your stuff in the
house."
     Candy gave me a big grin, picked up two of the four
suitcases, and sashayed up the walk ahead of me.  I'm not
sure if it was deliberate; but it sure seemed that the kid
put a little extra hip-swaying in her walk just for me.
     I couldn't have taken my eyes of the sprout's swaying
hips if you'd held a gun to my head.  Damn.  This was going
to be a LONG two weeks.
     "Um ... The apartment's to the right," I directed
Candy, "just past the pool."
     "You have a *pool*!" she squealed in a high pitch that
almost hurt my ears.  I hadn't thought that anybody past six
years old could hit the "whistle" register like that.
     "*I* don't," I corrected.  "It belongs to the apartment
complex.  I just get the use of it like everybody else
here."
     "Oh."  Candy turned to look at me, amusement sparkling
in her green eyes.  "But I can use it too?" she prompted.
     "All guests can; and you're definitely a guest," I
agreed; unable to keep similar amusement from filling my own
face.  I looked at her outfit which didn't cover much more
than many of the girls.  "You'll have to change first," I
told her; hoping our parents had insisted Candy wear a one-
piece, seeing the girl was only thirteen.  Seeing her
present outfit, I should have known better.
     Candy gave me a leer and an evil grin.  "Just wait
until you see the bikini I got ... just for this vacation."
     Oh God.  I should have told her that the pool was for
residents only.  Just imagining my baby sister ("Baby"
sister?  With boobs out to here, legs up to her ass ... and
what a fine ass that was, and a navel that most men my age
would die for the chance to take one tiny lick at, my sister
definitely wasn't a baby any more.  All woman.) in a tiny
bikini like the swimsuit models in Sports Illustrated ....
     I was sweating like I'd been working out instead of
just taking the short stroll to my apartment door.  "After
we eat and get you settled in," I temporized.  "The pool can
wait until later on.  Besides, the sun won't be so hot then,
so you'll have a chance to tan instead of burn."  Looking at
my little sister's white skin, it was obvious the kid hadn't
had too much time spent out-of-doors yet this year.  I had a
flashback of the two of us down at the "swimming hole",
actually nothing more than a pond with three sides wooded
near our place, when Candy was only six:  The kid was tanned
golden brown all over; and I mean *all* over; as neither one
of us ever wore swimsuits out there when we were supposedly
doing chores.  At only six I'd never thought of the kid in a
sexual manner, even though I was going through the trials of
puberty myself and had just learned how to jack-off.  The
woman almost panting hot breath in my ear as I fumbled with
the key to my apartment couldn't possibly be related to that
cute little naked sprite of over seven years ago ... could
she?  By the time she turned ten, Candy was wearing
swimsuits; and so was I whenever we went swimming together.
I think it was more me than her who was embarrassed about
the other seeing bare naked skin though.
     Oh God ... Here I was thinking and dreaming about
seeing my baby sister *naked*.  Candy would probably cuss me
out, slap me silly, or even be horrified at the thought of
me being turned on by her sexually.  Just the touch of her
naked skin against my arm as she leaned a little bit too
close while I struggled to get the door open was like a hot
iron on me; and my traitorous prick couldn't help but
respond to the pheromones wafting from the womanly figure
next to mine.
     Well, perhaps (In my dreams!) Candy wouldn't be
offended by her big brother getting turned on by her body.
At thirteen the girl probably knew three or four times what
I did about sex and what men and women did together at the
same age.  After all, what girl is still a virgin by the age
of thirteen anyway?  Even if Candy was boinking half the
boys in her class and several older classmen as well, while
breaking the hearts of the boys she didn't put out for, that
didn't mean she would be anything but disgusted at the idea
of her own older brother putting the make on her.
Especially when that older brother was slightly over seven
years older than she was.  Making out, "hooking up", giving
oral sex like many girls her age I understand did these
days, and even having full penile/vaginal sexual intercourse
with boys her own age or at most two or three years older
was one thing (though the thought of my kid sister lying on
her bed, legs spread, accepting the thick swollen prick of
some pimply teenaged upperclassmen into the soft sweetness
of her tight little honey-hole was enough to make me burn
with envy).  Having an icky older adult, a pedophile if you
please, already into his twenties making crude passes at
her, would likely be enough to make the girl puke.
     Still ... Candy wasn't exactly pulling away from me as
I forced the sticky door open with one shoulder; bumping
into her soft cushion of a breast and feeling the delightful
tingle of bare midriff skin against the fingers of my left
hand for one incredibly delicious second.  Oh God ... I
really needed to get my mind out of the gutter!
     "That's my bedroom," I told Candy; hurriedly pulling my
hand away from her body before it became obvious I was
sneaking a feel of her soft and sensuous skin.  "You'll be
sleeping in there."
     Candy turned such a glorious smile my way at this
announcement that for a moment I actually wondered if she
actually wouldn't mind sleeping with me, and (dare I even
dream?) having glorious raunchy, incestuous sex with her big
brother.  Quickly I damped that thought out, and continued
before Candy could realize the implications of "sleeping
with her big brother".
     "The couch makes up into a guest bed," I explained.
"I'll sleep out here."
     Candy's mouth turned from a smile to a moue.  "No way
I'm moving you out of your own bedroom," she announced
firmly; actually stamping her feet in annoyance.  "*I* will
sleep out here, if one of us has to," she declared.
     "Um ... We'll discuss it later, OK?" I backpedaled.
Somehow I just knew I wasn't going to win this argument.
Candy *had* grown up, it seems; and not just in body.  I
didn't even dare let myself follow the logic of the last
part of her statement.
     Being a bachelor, dinner was simple: Macaroni and
Cheese fancied up with a can of tuna and half-can of peas.
Don't knock it; it's good.  Most of my "home cooking"
usually consisted of leftover pizza nuked in the Microwave
or TV dinners.
     I'd just finished "doing the dishes" which consisted
mainly of throwing two plates, two forks, an assortment of
cups and glasses, and a big spoon into the dishwasher and
turning it on (aren't modern conveniences wonderful) when
Candy bumped into me; her smooth legs against mine sending
erotic thoughts where I shouldn't have them ... well, at
least not about my own baby sister anyway.
     "Can we?" she asked; sounding more like a six-year-old
than a teenager.  "Can we go now, huh, huh, huh?"
     "Uh ... wha ...?"  I was barely able to extract my
bulging eyes from the delights of my kid sister's navel.  My
brain wasn't working.
     "Can we go swimming now?  Please, please, please?"
     Oh Geesh, why not.  I did promise the kid.  And
besides, the cold water should help reduce my erection.  God
forbid my little sister saw me with a hardon, and thought it
was for her!  Yeah, right.
     "I suppose," I agreed, almost grumpily.  In fact, the
thought of a nice dip in the pool sounded pretty good right
now.  The temperature might be dropping from the heat of the
afternoon; but the humidity was rising until you could
almost see fog forming.  "You'll have to take a shower
first," I instructed as Sandy headed over to pull open
suitcases for, I presume, her swimsuit.  "Pool rules," I
explained.
     Candy blinked at me and asked, "Shower?"
     I pointed to the small bathroom.  Being a "convenience
apartment" everything was small.  No tub, only shower; and
the sink took up what space the toilet didn't.
     "Oh.  OK."  To my consternation Candy reached behind
her, unfastened the two straps holding her top up; then
shimmied out of her short little skirt; taking the lacey
panties off at the same time.  The teenager then just
stepped out of her sandals; headed for the bathroom stark
staring naked in front of me.
     It was only just before she got to the door that Candy
noticed me standing there, stunned, my jaw practically on
the floor.  Turning so I got a complete and wonderful view
of her full-frontal-nudity, Candy looked me in the eye with
a glint of humor.
     "I'm sorry," she half-apologized.  "I didn't think
you'd mind seeing me naked.  After all," she explained,
"you've seen me naked enough times when we were kids."
     Yeah, but ... "But that was different," I almost
choked.  Candy it seemed *wasn't* quite as pale as I thought
she was.  Tiny pale triangular portions of her firm cones
showed the girl had been wearing a bikini.  A matching
triangular cutout of the slightly darker skin on her belly
showed where the bottom of a small swimsuit had prevented
the teen's pubic area from tanning as well.  Only a light
bush in a perfect vee covered the downy peach of my little
sister's pubes.  I felt like I was about to faint right
there.
     "Oh, not so different," she corrected; coming closer
and giving me a hug and then a kiss right on the lips;
leaving a definite lipstick mark.  "Gee, I didn't think
you'd be such a prude with your own little sister."
     "Uh ... uh ... uh ..."
     "Well?" she prompted.  "Aren't *you* going to get
undressed too?  After all," she added, "You've seen mine,
aren't you going to show me yours?"
     It was her "prude" remark and male pride that decided
me.  Two shrugs and my shirt had joined her top; and another
pull and my pants were on the floor also.
     Only ... I had forgotten about the enormous erection.
Damn.
     Candy didn't.  "Oh wow," she cooed; looking in
admiration at my erect dick; now about to spout hot sticky
cream all over her knee and lower leg.  "Is that all for
me?" she asked.
     Oh shit.  "Dad would kill me if I ...."
     "Mom and Dad aren't here," she countered; reaching over
and grabbing my prick to (I presume) examine it closer.
     The sensation of my little sister's hand wrapping
around my overstimulated prick was too much ... WAY too
much.  I came, I spouted, I spurted, I ejaculated thick
white baby-goo all over my kid sister's clasping hand, her
knee, her thigh, and then (Ogod!) her smooth white belly
where it splattered and slid down towards the teenager's
open and inviting little slot, as Candy pulled and aimed the
squirting member at herself instead of pulling away in
disgust as you might expect.
     "Wow," she giggled in what I almost imagined was ...
admiration?  "I guess your girlfriend hasn't been taking
very good care of you lately."  A pause; then an
introspective, "I guess I'll have to talk to that girl,
woman-to-woman when I get a chance."
     I gurgled out something to the order of the fact I
didn't *have* a girlfriend at the moment.
     Surprisingly, Candy brightened at this instead of
seeming sorry for my loss.  "Then you won't mind if I *act*
as your girlfriend while I'm here?" she asked; heading for
the shower and cutting off any possible response I might
have by closing the shower door (but leaving the bathroom
door invitingly open!)  Candy was visible through the glass;
the wrinkled texture hiding her actual skin; but leaving
little to the imagination as to the girl's shape and what
she was doing inside.  Could it be ... COULD Candy actually
be taking the gobbet of thick incest-goo I'd squirted on her
belly and ... and ... and taking a finger and *sliding* the
goo-covered index into her down-covered slit while groaning
and working herself off with it?  Oh God.  I shook my head,
then realized that with the water running Candy was just
sluicing the thick sticky semen *off* her body, not
inseminating herself with her own brother's seed ... Wasn't
she?
     My now-neglected prick gave another spurt at just the
thought; then wilted completely; my prostate finally empty
after over two weeks of neglect.  I barely managed to get a
hand under it before making a bigger mess of the floor.  As
it was, two pearly drops of semen puddled next to the
bathroom doorway.  I grabbed a tissue and wiped up while
thinking of the consequences.
     After a minute as Candy washed, I suddenly brightened.
If, and I mean *IF* Candy actually *had* been inseminating
herself with my cum in the shower, that meant my "baby
sister" wasn't really a baby any more; and was probably not
only having regular sex (with whom, I tried not to think
about) but that Mom or Dad (probably Mom) had put the gal on
the pill, and that meant ....
     I stopped myself with a jolt.  I wasn't actually
thinking about *fucking my own little sister* was I?  God,
the kid was only 13!  What they do to guys in California who
slip their dicks into little girls, didn't even bear
thinking about.  Not to mention the incest angle.  I don't
think anybody reading this though, will be all that
surprised that I continued thinking about it anyway.  "Try
NOT thinking about a pink elephant,"
     Talking about pink ....
     A beautiful pink body slipped out past mine while I
tried to ignore my beautifully wet, slick, and gorgeous
little sister.  Mine must have blushed about three shades of
pink in response to the feel of her naked skin just brushing
against mine.  Time to take a shower, preferably a *cold*
shower, and get ready to take that swim.  Hopefully Candy
would be covered up in her swimsuit by then, and not be such
an invitation to rape.  Well, OK, not rape.  You can't rape
somebody willing.  I was getting the idea rather rapidly
that my cute and sexy little sister was trying to seduce
*me*, rather than the horny old pedophile, her big brother,
trying to make moves on an "innocent" little 13-year-old.
     Brrrr!  Cold water *does* make the rampant prick
shrink, just like they say it does.  It also helped me
dispel certain unworthy (for a brother) ideas about skipping
the swim in the pool, taking my baby sister into the
bedroom, throwing her down on the bed, slipping my swollen
peter so far up the child's tight little baby-hole she'd be
chewing on the tip, and filling Candy's tiny young womb with
so much incestuous sperm my little sister would be having my
kids for the next twenty years or so.  Oh shit ... There I
went again!  I soaped down with cool water to get the
slippery sweat off my body, and just incidentally two sticky
drops of semen sticking to my right foot; reminding me of
the obscene but *very* sexy thing Candy had been doing with
me out in the main room.
     I was just recovering from the shower and starting to
wipe my body with a towel, when I headed out of the bathroom
wearing nothing else.  (Well, the kid *had* already seen me
naked.  I figured that *if* Candy was still undressed, still
looked willing, and really *wanted* to, I might just steer
her to the bedroom and see what happened.  Yeah, my "little
head" was thinking for the "big one" again; even after that
oh-so-satisfying release in Candy's sweet little hands.)
Only ... Frankly, I just dropped the towel and *stared*.
Even seeing Candy completely naked a few minutes earlier had
never prepared me for *this*.
     My "baby" sister was wearing a tiny bikini ... If you
could call it "wearing" when the girl had less total cloth
covering her front than you'd find in a table-napkin.  The
smooth cloth covering my little sister's rear did more to
call attention to the fact she was nearly undressed than it
did to hide the slightest bit of her charms.  Oh God.  Candy
looked at least twice as sexy wearing a swimsuit as she did
stark staring naked.  Swimsuits like that should be illegal;
if for no other reason than giving heart-attacks to horny
old goats like me.  (Well, OK, at 20 I'm not all that old.
Still, compared to Candy I was/am.)  And, if not heart-
attacks, then hard-attacks.  A sweet young thing like Candy
going down the beach would give 9/10 of the men there
erections that most wouldn't be able to satisfy without
using their own hands.  Completely unfair to the guys.
     "Well ... Aren't you going to get dressed too?"
inquired Candy; looking straight at my erect dong now
pointing like a gun at her navel.  "Or," she suggested;
licking her lips in a truly wicked manner that was way too
grown-up for a barely-teenager, "should I get undressed
instead and take care of your `problem' like a girlfriend is
supposed to?"
     "Uh ... uh ... uh ...."  Once again I was speechless.
However I did manage a hasty retreat into the bedroom where
I quickly salvaged my swim-trunks.  Thank God they weren't
"Speedos".  At least these might hide to some degree my
erection from the horny gaze of my kid sister, who shouldn't
even know what one was.
     "Let's go," I said; opening the door and bowing my
little sister out, like I presumed a "gentleman" should.
     Candy giggled, accepted the well-deserved homage, and
squeezed by me out the door; seeming to make a point of
rubbing as much of her barely teenaged body against mine as
she could in the process.  It was going to be a *long* day.
     A splash, and Candy announced her presence to the
residents of the complex by making a smooth dive; coming up
on the far side of the pool.  I made a comment to myself to
tell the girl about the "No diving!" rule at the pool; as
well as the "No naked swimming" and "No swimming alone"
along with, "Pool closes at 10:30" rules.  Later.
     "*Nice* girlfriend," commented Jack; lying there with
his current SO, Carmine; a busty blonde a little on the
plump side, but nicely stacked even so.  Carmine, Jack, and
I had once done a foursome with his then-girlfriend Marie,
while Carmine and I dated for a week or two.  It's amazing
what fun four real *friends* can have together in a double-
bed.
     "Um ...," I started to correct the impression that
Candy was my girlfriend, "Candy's only ...," I started to
say, "Only my sister," when the girl herself interrupted,
"... only here for a couple of weeks."
     Candy beamed at me and my flustered look.  "Unless, of
course," she added, "Wally and I can manage something more
permanent."  Oh God.
     "Well, I always *did* say you had good taste in women,"
smirked Jack; earning himself a punch in the arm from
Carmine.  "That's why I stole Carmine here away from you,"
he added to earn a simper from the girl lying next to him.
Well, Jack always was a salesman.  Still ... If he ever even
*tried* making the moves on Candy ....
     I was a bit amazed at the red haze of anger that came
over me at the thought of Jack making out with my little
sister.  Oh, part of it *was* being protective of a kid
sister; but far more was sheer ... sheer jealousy?  Oh damn.
What bloody business was it of mine who Candy went out with
... or even screwed, for that matter?  At her age I was
trying (if not succeeding very well) to get in the panties
of any woman or girl that wouldn't slap me silly at even
talking to her.  Why should I deny that right to my own
sister?  ("Damnit!  The kid was only thirteen!" I told
myself firmly; as if that was an excuse.  "Oh yeah?" I
answered myself right back, "Then why are *you* having
fantasies about porking the kid yourself?  Answer THAT one,
Wally.")  I couldn't; so I shut up.
     Candy quite frankly wore me out.  After abut a half
hour there were three or four of us watching the teenager
romp in the pool while we chatted about inconsequentials.
Carmine got up and left after about fifteen minutes.  I
wonder if it was that she couldn't stand the competition?
     Hoping to settle things down; after Candy got tired of
splashing around, proudly showing off her now-adult body to
all the leering males around the pool (or so it seemed to me
in my somewhat confused big-brother/jealous attitude) and I
took one last dip to cool off myself; I fixed hot chocolate
instead of some cooler drink for the night.  Then I
suggested bed.
     When Candy brightened (Now I was *certain* the girl was
trying to seduce me.) I told her she would be sleeping in
the bedroom, while I made up the couch for myself.  *That*
argument I lost.  Candy pouted and insisted she'd rather
sleep on the floor than crowd me out of my own bed and
bedroom.  "Besides," she pointed out, "all of your clothing
is in there.  You'd have to get dressed and undressed in
front of me."  Well, I *could* have argued about using the
bathroom; but didn't.  I knew when to give in on the small
things.
     Candy still pouted a bit about not sharing the bedroom
with me; but let me fix up the couch for her anyway.  When
she started to strip down to her nude like she had when
changing clothes earlier though, I put my foot down.
     "Why not?" she pouted.  "I *always* sleep naked; and I
know you do too; so there!"
     "Yeah," I agreed.  "But you don't sleep naked in your
own brother's house.  It just isn't done."
     Candy looked about to argue about what is or is-not
done; then saw my face and pulled on a silky-smooth pair of
panties and matching bra before flouncing down and squirming
to make herself comfortable on the fixed-up couch.  Yes,
just like earlier, she made a big point of stripping naked
right in front of me, as if daring me to object to *that*.
     I wasn't about to.  If I could get the kid settled
down, in bed, *not* with me, and wearing at least
*something* to cover her sexy young body with, then I
figured I had accomplished the main purpose.  Besides, my
sexy little sister *was* a delight to look at, whether in
shorts-and-halter, tiny bikini, or the dishabille of silky
bra-and-panties.  I deliberately stared, leered, and Candy
seemed to bask in my admiration.  She still pouted a bit
from having to sleep alone.  I should have suspected
something was up (besides my traitorous prick).
     
     "Wally?"
     "Huh?"  I blinked.  The dim light showed the digital-
alarm showing perhaps an hour and a half later.  "Wha ...?"
I groaned.  I was in that half-doze state you get when woken
from the deepest sleep.
     "C'n I sleep with you ... Please?" whined a little-girl-
voice.  "It's cold out here; and I miss Mom and Dad.
Please, please, please?"
     I was too groggy to think clearly.  Oh what the heck:
If the kid needed comfort sleeping away from Mom and Dad for
the first time, then why not?  I opened the bed and let my
little sister climb in.
     It was only when Candy's naked skin rubbed against mine
that I came fully awake and realized the big mistake; but by
then it was way too late.  Thank goodness the kid was still
wearing the underwear though.
     "Oh, don't pull away like that," Candy complained.
"Snuggle up ... Please?"
     Well, it didn't make a lot of sense trying to hide on
one half of a standard double-bed, when your kid sister took
up almost 2/3 of the mattress.  Tentatively I did ...
snuggle up spoon-fashion.
     Candy didn't say anything, neither moving away nor
pushing back at me.
     That allowed me to relax (somewhat) and worry about
what to do with my arm.  Eventually I decided that there was
only one place it *could* go, and wrapped my loose arm
around my little sister's body; carefully avoiding the kid's
swelling titties but enjoying the almost-as-erotic feel of
her smooth flat tummy against my arm and her waist tingling
against my fingertips.  God, even at thirteen the girl was
*small* next to me ... Built like a brick-shithouse, but
still small.  Well, OK: almost any "normal" woman is small
next to me.  I'm six-three and weigh a hundred and ninety-
five pounds.  Candy couldn't weigh half that.
     "Mmm."  Candy snuggled back into my involuntary
embrace, murmured, "Thanks, Big Brother," and seemed to
drift off back to sleep.
     I tried to.  I just couldn't.  The erotic feel of
nubile young girl next to me, squirming slightly in her
sleep, the feel of her naked belly against my hand, her firm
young butt pushing back into my groin, smooth silky legs
rubbing against mine, and most-of-all, the pheromones of
sexy and fertile young girl attacking my nose and hindbrain
as I breathed the scent of her hair deep inside my body ...
Sleep wasn't what that same body was interested in any more.
Almost involuntarily my hand crept upward and *under* the
silky material supposedly protecting my little sister's firm
young boobs from her oversexed big brother.
     I cupped a firm young titty in my hand and snuggled
closer; while Candy purred in contentment.  I'm not sure if
the kid was asleep yet or not ... probably not; as what
happened next showed.
     Having a beautiful, nubile, sexy, fertile, and almost-
naked female snuggled up next to me, along with not having
any "real" sex for weeks (other than that crazy hand-job
from Candy) had the expected result.  Yeah, "the gallant
reflex".  My prick felt it was hard as a brick and was
poking Candy in the butt like it was trying to poke a hole
right *through* the silky panties the girl was wearing.
Damn.  I tried pulling back; but that just made things more
awkward.  With any girl *other* than my own baby sister in
bed with me like that, I'd have just rolled the woman over,
pulled her sexy panties down, and we both would have had a
good and satisfying *fuck* right then and there.
     I groaned in frustration.  I mean: I just *couldn't*
fuck my own little sister ... Could I?  No way.  Besides,
what would I tell Mom if her little girl came home with
tight panties?  Hell, what would I tell *DAD*???  To make
things worse, there wasn't a condom in the house.  My
previous two girlfriends had all been full adults and on the
pill.  I made a subconscious resolve to rectify that lack
... tomorrow.  Even if Candy and I never did "get it on"
like seemed more and more likely; as my resolve crumbled
like a cookie in a bucket of water, I *still* should have
some on hand for the possible chance that some other sexy
young thing (like one of the single girls here in the
apartment complex) might drop in and be available, but
without her own protection.  Tomorrow, definitely.  That
however was then.  This was now.
     Candy giggled; distracting me.  "Oh Wally," she
murmured, "Just snuggle down and put your prick between my
legs.  You don't *have* to fuck me if you don't want to.
I'm not going to rape you."  Another giggle at the thought
of her raping me.
     I couldn't help but giggle myself at the very idea.
Seduce me, definitely.  Hold me down and force herself on me
... <Snort!>  Yeah, it was funny.  Funny enough in fact to
make my prick wilt a bit; and to allow me to do what the
girl asked.
     Strangely, that was it ... for then.  Probably ten
minutes later we were both asleep; the silky feel of my baby
sister's legs and pantied-crotch against and around my prick
just soothing me after all the erotic leadup earlier in the
day.  The release Candy had given then being enough to keep
me from having a wet-dream, even with the stimulation of
sexy young woman sleeping next to me, her firm young breast
in one hand, her butt snuggled back into my belly, her soft
breath soothing my ears, and yes, my prick poking the girl
between the thighs, if not up *inside* her thighs where a
stiff prick really belongs.
     
     I woke up from a wet-dream.  Like always, a wet-dream
with me is never really satisfactory.  The stimulation of a
hard prick inching into the tight cunt of an ultra-sexy
dream-girl is always enough to bring me at least partially
awake before I ever manage to spew inside the dream-person.
Damn.  I understand *some* men actually "starch the sheets";
getting off and then waking up to a mess.  I never have.
Usually I wake up "with my problem well in hand" and then
jerk the thing until I either orgasm properly or get tired
and do it right later (hopefully with the help of a *real*
girl.  This time the "dream" was a bit different; as I was
lying on my side and getting her sideways ... Somewhat like
screwing one of those fantasy girls whose slot was sideways.
<Giggle.>  A tight *something* was rubbing along the
top/side or my prick, while "normal" pussy was sucking on
the bottom.  Weird.  Normally a pussy is about the same all
around.
     I'm not sure if it was several minutes or only a few
seconds before I became aware that morning had arrived, I
was still snuggled up to Candy from behind, and that somehow
my traitor penis had found its way into the tight little
panties my sister was wearing and rubbing along the girl's
mons and up her front inside them.  Damn; I was more fucking
my sister's panties than the girl herself.
     Candy wasn't exactly an uninterested observer or
sleeper to this molestation.  I could hear faint grunts and
moans, along with her hand stroking and clasping my dong
through the panties while her hips moved in tiny circles;
the girl actually working herself off on the thick meat-rod
going past her slippery and sucking baby-hole.
     "Oh God, Candy, I ...," I groaned; starting to pull
back and away from my little sister's manipulations.  I was
thinking I had to pull out; even though I wasn't actually
*in* the girl.
     "Please, Wally?  Please?  Please?" whined Candy;
sounding like a preteen or even a six-year-old begging for
candy.
     Oh damn.  I knew well what it was like to be *so* close
to cumming like my sexy little sister was ... Besides, I was
almost there myself.  Shit.
     Yeah, I didn't pull back.  Instead I pushed forward as
Candy's hips came back; levering my swollen member *up* into
her leaking snatch so that the full length of male meat
rubbed against my little sister's baby-hole each time I
pulled out and pushed back in.  Candy's slick little hole
ran across the top of my prick, while her panties held the
member close so it didn't slip away on the backstrokes.
Back, forth, back and forth.  All of a sudden it was too
much ... *way* too much.
     "Uh ... here it comes," I warned her.  Even though the
head of my prick wasn't even in the girl (yet), I still
thought it smart to advise the kid I was about to spew thick
heavy baby-goo all over the inside of her tight little
panties.  Not, mind you, that Candy didn't have a pretty
good idea already from the sticky precum dribbling all over
her tummy and wetting the front of the girl's panties.
     Instead of pulling away, Candy started rocking back and
forth even faster; rubbing the shaft of my prick against
her throbbing clitoris as if she was using a rubber dildo
to jack off with.  Well, I guess at the moment that's
exactly how she was viewing my dick: as something to
pleasure herself with.  Oh Christ.  I did it.
     Yeah, I came all over the inside of my baby sister's
silky panties; drenching the panel in the front with glob
after gooey glob and splat after thick white splat of
incestuous sperm-filled cum.  It just kept on coming as my
underused prostate emptied itself into the cunny-substitute
my little sister made of her hand, her silky panties, her
clasping young cunny, and her smooth young belly.  As I
started to wilt, Candy reached down *into* her now smeared
and gooey panties, grabbed my deflating prick, and *milked*
the last hot sticky and gooey drops out the head.  The
incredible sensation of Candy's hand squeezing the last
thick spurt out caused me to involuntarily pull away, just
as one more thick surge spat through the tip ... and right
*into* my little sister's clasping young hole.  Oh God ...
my baby sister now had my sperm *right up inside her body*;
not just on the outside.  Oh God, oh God, oh God.
     "Thanks, Wally."  Oh God ... again!  My little sister
was thanking *me*?  My traitor prick surged *again*, at just
the thought; my penis-head actually sinking almost a half-
inch inside the girl while yet another hot gob of seed
unloaded inside the kid.  No, Candy was probably still a
virgin yet (if she was when we started); with just the tip
of my prick inside her tight little hole ... but she *did*
have at least two hot sticky gobs of her own brother's gooey
white cum actually *inside* her tight little cunny by the
time my prick wilted.
     "Oh God ... I'm sorry, Candy," I groaned; worried the
girl would never forgive me.
     "Sorry?  You mean you didn't *like* it?" she asked;
seeming annoyed and almost angry that I'd even suggest such
a thing.
     I found myself stumbling and apologizing and trying to
explain I was worried about ejaculating inside her and what
Mom or Dad would say, when she finally shushed me.  "It's
OK," she murmured; kissing me on the forehead.  "I don't
mind.  You can cum in me all you want."
     I breathed a deep sigh of relief.  I should have known
Dad, or at least Mom anyway, would have put Candy on the
pill ... probably back when she was eleven or twelve and
first started menstruating.  "You're sure it's OK?" I asked;
wanting confirmation.
     "Of *course* I'm sure," Candy replied; sounding just a
little annoyed at my asking.  "Besides, my period was a
little over a week ago; so you don't have *that* to worry
about either."
     Well OK ... If she insisted.  Knowing my kid sister
wouldn't be having the messy cramps and bloody stuff
involved with menstruation for the entire time she would be
visiting; thus leaving the girl open and ready for my ....
     Damn, my prick was getting hard again.  It was all I
could do to muster the strength to get out of bed instead of
rolling Candy over and shoving my aching prick so far up the
kid's hole she'd be sucking on the tip.  "Thanks, Kiddo," I
told her.  "I'll get breakfast while you shower.  Then I'll
shower and we'll head out.  I have a surprise for you."
     Candy pouted a bit.  I actually think *she* had
somewhat the same idea of wearing out the sheets that I had.
Yes, my little baby sister *was* seducing me it seems ...
and doing a damned fine job of it too.  I needed a bit of
time to think if I really wanted to start boffing my own
baby sister, barely thirteen, on a regular basis; knowing
damned well I wouldn't be able to stop once I started.  What
was I doing?  Oh yeah: Breakfast.
     I could do that.
     Ham and eggs scrambled together, toast, jelly, and the
California Favorite: Orange Juice made a quick and handy
breakfast for two without stretching my culinary skills to
the breaking point.  Then *my* shower, getting dressed, and
to the phone.
     It was only when I was in the process of dialing that I
looked over at Candy sitting across from me, wearing the
same short little micro-mini she had the previous day; but a
sunsuit-top instead of the tube that looked almost like the
bra she'd worn the previous night.  Damn, was that sexy.
What made me drop the phone and fumble for it though, was
when I looked up the bottom of the short little skirt ...
and saw the same silky panties matching the top she was
wearing.  Damn, but my little sister wasn't still wearing
the same panties I'd ejaculated in this morning ... was she?
An oozing stain in the front made me almost certain she was
... and without wiping them up, either!  Oh shit.  My horny
little sister was wearing panties still oozing my cum and
forcing it up inside her nubile young twat!
     Candy caught my look up her dress, grinned at me, and
confirmed my guess.  "Well," she smirked, "I *told* you I
didn't mind having your cum in me."
     Oh shit.  I dropped the phone, fumbled it, and had to
start dialing all over again.  My little sister had my sperm
in her panties, in her tiny vagina, and it would be soaking
into the kid's waiting fertility *all* *day* *long*.  Oh
shit, again.
     Locking firmly in my mind the intention to pick up
condoms (and tissue and milk and quickly prepared food that
wouldn't spoil, and a bunch of other things), I tried
shutting my mind down about sex per-se, and concentrated on
my plans for the week.  Plans that had only gelled
completely after spending the night snuggled up naked next
to my almost-naked sexy little sister.  I finally got Joe's
number right after fumbling it twice and getting one wrong
number while staring at the dark spot in my sister's
panties; and wondering if that meant what I thought it did.
Even if not, it probably meant my horny kid sister was
thinking sexy thoughts ... about me!  Geesh.  We had to get
out of the house, where the nearness of the bedroom ....
     <Click!>  "Joe here.  State your name and business, or
fuck off."
     "Uh ... Joe?  It's me, Wally."
     "Oh.  Hi.  I'm in a bit of a rush, so make it quick."
Joe did sound a bit out of breath.
     "Are you using the boat this week or next?" I asked.
     "No.  Why?  Do you need it?" huffed Joe; sounding like
he was moving heavy stuff at the same time.
     "Well, my kid sister is in town; and I hoped I could
swap my two weeks later this month for yours, if you weren't
needing it right now."  Joe and I were "partners" with
another couple in a "timeshare" arrangement with a sailboat;
none of us needing or using it enough to buy one ourselves.
Even so, it was still a fairly small boat.  Each of us got
two weeks use of the boat twice a summer.  Mine was coming
up later that month, while Joe's was starting that week.  We
often traded off times; and I was pretty sure Joe was
looking for a later slot.  He was.
     "Sure!" he jumped at the offer.  "I'll make it up to
you later," he promised.  "Right now I've got relatives
over; and no way we'd get four people on that thing."
     "I've just got my sister," I replied; not mentioning
her age.  "You know," I joked, "the specifications say it
can sleep five."  Yeah, right.  Two squeezed into the one
real bunk up front, two crosswise out in the open in the
cockpit, and one sleeping on the floor of the tiny cabin.
Uhuh.  If that was really a boat that "sleeps five" like the
brochure said, then my one-bedroom apartment sleeps 12.
With five people on board, two would have to remain in bed,
and at least one other below decks in the cabin; as there
wouldn't be room enough to turn around in the cockpit.
Well, OK, one could sit up front on the cabin, just behind
the bowsprit.  Not.  The boat was really a one-man craft and
rigged that way.  Two were nice and cozy; but the extra
person was a help with handling the rigging.
     "You don't owe me ... I owe *you* for this one," I
responded.  "I'm hoping to show my sister a bit of the
coast," I explained.  ("... and get out of this house before
I do something I'll regret," I added under my breath.)
     "No prob, Wall," he panted.  "We'll even up the score
later, OK?"
     "OK."  I was about to hang up when he spoke up again.
     "Say Wally?"
     "Yeah?"
     "Just how old *is* that `kid sister' of yours?  Is she
cute?"  I knew Joe was in the market for a new girlfriend at
the moment; having recently broken up with his last one.
     "Geeze, man, she's my *sister*, for Christ's sake."
For some reason I never mentioned the girl was only thirteen
and jailbait.  "Yes, she's cute as a button; but you keep
your mitts off my little sister you horny old goat ... You
hear?"
     "Geeze yourself.  Talking about horny old goats ...
Never mind.  You sound almost jealous.  Promise to introduce
me to the girl sometime?"
     "Only if you behave like a gentleman."
     "Don't I always?"
     "Ha!"  With that, we both giggled and hung up.  I
almost danced around the floor.  I had the boat for two
weeks!  Then I came down suddenly.
     "Uh ...?  Candy?" I asked.
     "Huh?"
     "Do you like fishing?"  Damn; I should have asked
*before* arranging the boat.  If Candy said no, then I'd be
out my two weeks for nothing.
     "A little," she admitted cautiously.  "Don't like
eating fish all that much."
     "How about sailing?" I prompted.  "We can cruise up and
down the coast for a week and you can get some *real*
tanning done," I added; looking pointedly at my little
sister's still fairly white skin.
     "Oh ... CAN we ... on a *real* sailboat?" she gurgled;
throwing her arms about me and squeezing me in a manner that
had me wrapping my own arms around the girl in self-defense.
Damn, what a warm, squealing, lively hunk of woman.  I
didn't want to let her go ... but I did anyway.  I still
couldn't help throwing a kiss at her forehead; which Candy
turned into a *real* kiss by raising her face to meet mine.
     "Kissing your sister" is supposed to be blah, tame,
mild, and almost nothing compared to kissing a "real girl".
Yeah, right.  Tell that to Candy.  Even though it was only
lip-to-lip contact and nothing like the tongue-down-her-
throat and licking-tonsils-and-teeth French-Kisses I'd
shared with several previous girlfriends, this "mere"
pressing of lips to my little baby sister's seemed to last a
lifetime, yet was all too short.  Eventually and
regretfully, we had to pull apart.
     "Um ... I think ... I think we'd better get started
getting ready," I husked; barely able to breathe after that
oh-so-soft kiss.
     "Uh ... huh ... huh," she breathily agreed.  "I ... um
... guess so."
     Shaking my head firmly to distract myself from the
image Candy made just standing there, breathing heavily from
just a single kiss from her big brother, I looked around the
room for ideas.
     "We'll have to strip the couch of bedding, and bring
that along ... along with the pillow," I instructed her;
while rummaging in the closet.  "I only have one sleeping
bag."
     Candy just grinned up at me about that last.  Well, it
*was* a big sleeping bag; and the extra blankets could be
used as either covers or extra padding for the mattress,
depending on the weather, if we ....
     I shut *that* thought off too.  Watching Candy bend
over and move about the apartment wrapping up blankets and
such along with sorting through her suitcases for boat-
suitable clothing (two bikinis, a dress, and a *lot* of
skimpy underwear that actually didn't take up all that much
space) was a nice distraction in itself.  I almost forgot to
throw my own swimsuit along with an extra pair of pants, a
shirt, and four changes of underpants for myself.  No socks.
I had slip-on swimwear-bootie-shoes that would protect my
feet and yet give firm footing on the deck.  I made another
mental note to get a pair for Candy.  Until then, her
sandals would do.
     A tear off to the local "superstore" ... and then a
block away back to the apartment ... I'd forgotten to lock
up.  Normally this wouldn't matter all that much; but being
gone for likely up to a week called for extra care.  I
grabbed the remainder of the milk in the fridge and chugged
it down.
     Gas for the stove; canned meals; "instant" things not
microwaved; canned, powdered and some "real" milk; but not
enough to go bad in more than a day.  Apple juice doesn't
spoil until opened.  Spam.  Bread and hardtack.  "Bisquick".
Canned veggies.  Peanut butter, jam, and margarine in a tub.
Salt and spices were always on the boat; as was a tank for
fresh water.  Powdered hot chocolate, tea, sugar, spiced
cider, instant coffee, dry creamer.  Soap for dishes and
laundry.  Tablewear, like the stove was part of the boat
thing.  Paper towels.  Enough dry and non-perishable grub
for two for over a week.
     I dashed back into the store after loading the car to
get TP and Kleenex.  What a disaster *that* could be if we
ran short.
     1:00 in the afternoon found us hauling bags down to the
boat.  I told Candy to hold onto all the plastic grocery-
bags, because we'd need them to haul out our trash in.
     The "Kitty" was a small, about 25-foot sailboat; just
barely small enough for one person to sail; but nice for
two.  Supposedly up to five could "sleep" in the small craft
... if those five got *really* cozy.  Three was the max any
of us in the timeshare had ever done.  Every once in a while
one of us would take the boat out for an afternoon alone;
but two, usually man and woman, was the usual load.  If you
were a bachelor, taking a girl out for a sailing date was
almost guaranteed pussy.  Not that *I* would ever do such a
lewd and perverted thing with that intention, mind.  Yeah,
right.
     Candy and I spent about an hour stowing gear and then
straightening up.  Then, off to the supply dock to pick up a
few last items before going out.  I plugged my cell-phone
into the rooftop solar-cell recharger; as that was my safety
line.  No other real radio besides the AM/FM/Weather
receiver built into the cabin wall.  Well, the Kitty wasn't
really anything other than a day-sailor; though she could
sleep two lovers fairly comfortably at dockside.  A tiny
"porta-pottie" fastened to the floor of a niche in the cabin
under the main bunk kept things legal.
     I gassed up the stove, picked up a second gallon can
"just in case", got kerosene for the running lights (old
fashioned; but cheaper than buying batteries all the time),
flushed out the water tank, pumped the bilge, filled up on
fresh water, and were ready to go.
     Oops!  Forgot three necessities!
     Jack didn't have condoms.  A group of kids had already
grabbed his "free samples" supplied by a local family
planning group.  Damn.  Not that I expected to need them
mind; but ....
     Jack *did* have about a half-dozen "samples" of various
lubrication packets the kids hadn't taken.  Luckily, he also
had a pair of swimshoes like mine that would fit Candy.
About twice the price of what K-Mart charged; but it beat
driving back for.  For a second I almost went back anyway;
but the thought of another wasted hour stopped me.  If Candy
and I didn't get under weigh soon, we'd have to wait until
tomorrow.
     "Where you guys going?" asked Jake.  Everybody knew
Jake; and Jake knew everybody.  We wouldn't have gotten out
of the harbor without the Coast Guard on our tail if he
hadn't known it was me or one of the other three in the
Kitty.  Jake leered evilly at Candy; and Candy flirted back;
swaying her hips in that almost-illegal swimsuit.  Jake
didn't ask who the girl was.
     "We plan a short trip up the coast, putting in at
various docks and marinas, along with visiting some of the
barrier islands," I explained.
     "About three days?" he prompted.
     "More like about five to seven," I replied; knowing
that if I wasn't back in eight days or Jack didn't hear from
me by then, he'd alert the CG.
     "Well, have a good time; but watch out for the
weather," he told me.
     "Uh ... Why?" I asked; wondering if maybe we should
postpone things.  "Is a storm coming up?"
     "Nothing real bad.  You two should ride it out OK, if
you find a lee shore.  But, you know how it is these days.
A small squall tonight; but next week who knows?"
     "I'll keep an ear on the weather radio," I promised.
     And that pretty much was that.  I had Candy push the
bow out from the supply dock; and we were on our way.  At
first I just ran with the jib; as I didn't want to jibe with
the full sail until after we were out past the breakwater.
Nice wind; just enough to pull the boat along at a mile or
two an hour with the jib pulled taught.  Since the jib was
rather large; almost half the size of the mainsail, that
meant nice sailing weather.
     I got out a good mile before heading North up the
coast.  Jibing with a jib in a small boat is a no-brainer;
just pull around until the wind passes over your rear, the
jib pops over to the other side, and reset the halyard and
sheet in the cleats on the other side; pulling both taught
until the small sail was properly full.  I had Candy hold
the boat on a relatively steady course while I neatened up
the jib; then ran a blue pennant with a cat's face up the
mast followed by the mainsail.
     I then gave Candy lessons on how the boat ran; going
over basics as to tacking, how to duck on, "Ready about,"
when the boom came over, and the differences between a
halyard, sheet, and stay.  On a tiny sailboat like the
Kitty, there really weren't a lot of ropes to learn.  I'm
not exactly an old tar or salt; but I can keep the Kitty
upright and sailing in just about any normal wind.  I didn't
teach Candy to jibe; but I told her how it was done and why
it was awkward and could get a novice into trouble.  I
planned on staying far out enough to sea that I could just
heave-to and go around the long way, if I had to switch
tacks in a following wind.  Time enough to show the girl the
fancy stuff in a day or two.  For now, get Candy used to
steering a straight line, hauling the sheet in on light
winds, and letting it out on expected gusts.  Not that the
Kitty was liable to tip over with over a thousand pounds of
weight in her bulbous keel.  The Kitty was designed for
amateurs and was about as forgiving as you could get in a
small sloop.  Not even a gaff-rig to make things difficult
in reefing.  The boom actually rolled up like a window-
blind, with a small crank.  There was a hole in the tiller
and two force-cleats to fix the rudder with a rope, while
one man handled the sail.  The anchor was small enough that
one man could easily raise it; and fastened inside the sail-
locker up front to the keel, so you couldn't lose it
overboard in an accident like in one famous story.  There
was even a small extra kedging anchor, along with extra sail
and jib in the left sail-locker.  (The main anchor, chain,
and rope were in the right one.)
     What a *glorious* day for sailing!  We were making good
time up the coast; almost ten miles up and about two out,
just nicely in sight of land so we couldn't get lost, when
Candy spoke up.
     "Say Wally?"
     "Yeah," I answered somewhat dreamily.  I was having
visions of me sailing the Kitty halfway around the world, a
pipe clenched firmly in my teeth, a parrot on the mast, and
a pretty girl or two keeping me "company" both belowdecks
and above.  Hell, I don't even smoke, and never have.  Candy
would definitely fill the "pretty girl" part, if she wasn't
my own little sister though.  I was beginning to appreciate
the sadness in that old saw about something being, "like
kissing your sister."  Little sisters were cute, even sexy,
but you couldn't *have* sex with them like you could most
other girls ... Damn.
     "You said I could work on my tan when we got on the
boat," Candy reminded me.
     Damn ... Did I say that?  "So?" I asked.
     "So ... are we far enough out now that I can sun
properly?"
     Oh shit.  I looked around and the nearest shore was
over two miles away.  About a mile and a half up the coast a
small streak of white signaled a water-skiing couple; but
they didn't look like they'd even come close to our course.
Other than that, just blue and blue sky in all directions.
"Uh ...," I temporized, trying to buy time while I figured a
way out of this.
     "Please, Wally?"
     Oh Well, what the hell.  I shrugged; then frankly
*stared* as my cute little baby sister dropped three tiny
triangles and a padded bottom on the cockpit floor, and
twirled around bare naked in front of me; seeming to
deliberately show off for her big brother before starting to
clamber up on top of the small cabin.
     "Uhuh," I told her; pointing to the cleats.  "Safety
line first."
     Candy's face had dropped at my first negation; but she
quickly got the point.  Rolling off the cabin deck into the
sea while the Kitty was creaming along at close to 12 knots
wouldn't exactly be fun for either of us.  Knowing Candy
could swim like a fish made me allow the kid the freedom of
not wearing a lifejacket (though one was handy) but I wasn't
going to go hog wild with flouting safety either.  A 1"
nylon belt and two clip-on nylon lines; and it would have
taken a 12-foot sea to knock the kid overboard.
     For the next hour Candy "sunned herself" on the cabin
roof, not three feet from my staring eyes.  I wasn't sure if
the kid was just trying to get all parts of her body tanned,
or just trying to show off all parts of that same body to
*me*.  I suspected the latter; especially the two or three
times I had a straight-up shot between the girl's legs, and
twice right up her twat to where I swear I could see the
knobby pinkness of my sister's cervix and a dimple in the
center.  Finally, I'd had enough; and figured so had she.
     "You'd better get down and cover up," I told her.
"Much more of that, and you'll look like a lobster instead
of a coconut."
     Candy gave me a moue of disappointment; but obediently
clambered down off the cabin right in front of me; almost
rubbing her navel in my nose as she shrugged into one of my
old Hawaiian shirts I handed to her.
     Wearing just that shirt and nothing else, Candy was
actually at least *twice* as sexy as she was stark staring
naked.  The girl's firm young titties pushed out the soft
cloth in ways that should be illegal; while the open front
and short length (Actually, it was a fairly long shirt.)
gave fleeting but yet continuous glimpses of the more
intimate parts of the girl's charms in a tantalizing manner
guaranteed to give a hardon to a statue.
     I, of course, am no statue.
     Candy noticed.
     "Ooh," she cooed.  "Is *that* for *me*?"
     I was pretty much speechless.  I wasn't wearing a shirt
myself; only boxer-short type swim-trunks and the swimshoes
for traction on the boat.  Candy was oppositely dressed in
*only* shirt and the same swimshoes; hers pink, and mine
blue.  The head of my prick was sticking out the top of my
trunks.  I couldn't help it.  If I'd aimed the swollen
member *down*, it would have poked out the *bottom* of my
swim-trunks.
     I couldn't have stopped Candy from doing what she did
next unless the boat had capsized.  My "innocent" baby
sister lowered herself down on the deck in front of me,
pulled my swollen dick free, and *swallowed* over half of
it!  I hung onto the tiller and tried to steer straight
enough that the sail wouldn't flap or (worse-yet) jibe over
both of us.
     "I've always wanted to do this," mumbled Candy; lifting
her mouth off me for a second, "ever since I saw you and
Marylin making out in the pool that day."
     Me?  Marylin?  Marylin *Summers*??
     Oh my God.  I must have been about thirteen that time,
and horny as an old goat.  Marylin Summers, a girl who once
was my babysitter and about four years older than me, had
given a young teenager his second (or was it third) lesson
in the joys of fellatio and cunnilingus while we *thought*
we were all alone, nobody around, and safe from spying eyes
in the pool the next-door-neighbors had put up and allowed
the kids around the area to uses as long as we followed the
rules (like stowing the ladder when not in use, so the
little kids couldn't drown in it, no diving, washing before
using the pool, no swimming alone, etc.)  I'd never even
*dreamed* up to now that my baby sister was peeking on the
two of us.  If she'd seen Marylin giving me head ... Oh God,
Candy must have seen the two of us actually having full
sexual intercourse about a half hour later.  I was dead
meat.
     Still: Candy never had said a word ... until now.  I'd
thought that the one time much later with Marcia was the
only time.  Explaining *that* had been hard enough.
     "Uh ... uh ... uh ... Candy?" I groaned.
     Candy grinned at me and lifted her head from my prick
for a second.  I tried to imagine the kid at only six years
old actually *wanting* to suck her brother off like she had
watched the neighbor girl do.  Then she went back to making
love to my prick.  If I'd only known the kid wanted to give
me head back then ... Well, perhaps better not.  I'd likely
have not only let the sprout suck me off, sucked *her* off,
but I'd probably have taken the kid's virginity within a
week; and who knows where that might have led to?  "Uh,
Candy?" I panted.  "You'd better stop.  I'm about to ...."
     Oh shit.  Too late.  I was already cumming.  I couldn't
help it.  With a huge *surge*, hot sticky cum blasted
through the base of my prick, up the shaft, out the tip, and
in one thick gooey blast right into my baby sister's mouth.
     Instead of being disgusted and pulling away, Candy
actually started sucking harder; stroking my swelling and
spurting prick with her soft and delicate hands; actually
*milking* my prick for it's load of precious seed, while she
slurped, gulped, and *swallowed* every hot sticky drop of
semen I'd been saving up for the last several hours of being
stimulated by the incredibly sexy vision of feminine
pulchritude displaying her charms for *my* benefit!  "Good
to the last drop," she commented; stripping my prick from
the base all the way to the tip and bringing one flattened-
marble sized drop of white goo to the piss-hole in the
glans.  "Yum," she added; pursing her mouth around the plum
shaped head and *sucking* the remained into her mouth while
licking the tip with her talented tongue.  After a noisily
emphatic swallow, a big grin again, and one last stroke
where Candy almost swallowed my entire prick to clean off
every last sticky bit of seed, she finally pulled away;
licking her lips in obvious enjoyment.  "Thanks, Big
Brother," she smirked at me.  "I always wanted to do that;
but was afraid you'd think I was too little."  Oh God.
     "If you'll take the tiller and keep the boat headed
mainly up the coast," I offered, "I'll do you."  For a
second I almost kicked myself; remembering how offended and
disgusted one girl had been when I made a similar offer.
     "REALLY?" exclaimed Candy; all wide-eyed in
astonishment that I'd like to lick her "down there" as much
or more than she had enjoyed sucking my dick and even eating
my cum.  "You don't mind?" she asked; as if it was too much
to believe that I'd even offer.
     "I'd *love* to," I emphasized.  "I'd have been eating
you at six years old, if I'd known you had any idea what it
was about.  Crying shame I didn't, huh?"
     This time it was Candy's turn to say, "Oh God," and
commiserate about lost chances.
     It actually took about five minutes for me to rig the
tiller so Candy didn't have to give it much attention, while
I gave the teenager the attention her own tight little twat
seemed to need so much.
     I don't know about other guys; but I just LOVE to eat
pussy ... especially virgin pussy.  I'd only licked one
virgin before; and I never did get into *her* tight little
twatlet.  (And no, I'm *not* telling you who she was.)  When
I started in on Candy, I didn't even know my little sister
was still a virgin (and didn't really learn until later.)
All I knew was the girl was the sweetest and tastiest girl
I'd ever licked; and I've done my share.  One reason I get
my share of pussy is that the word *does* get around when a
guy is willing to eat a girl in exchange for return-favors;
even if the only "favor" the girl has to give in return is a
hand-job.  Guys like me who'll eat a girl just for the fun
of it are even rarer it seems.  That makes even reluctant
women tend to feel like doing something to make me feel as
good as I just made them.  Two or three girls even started
out telling me I'd *only* be allowed to lick them, "No sex
... Ever."  Then, once I'd gotten them off, without me even
asking, I'd found myself buried deep inside teen heaven and
spouting hot sticky gobs of cream inside each of them.
Thank Goodness most mothers have sense enough to put their
girls on the pill when they reach puberty, like it was
fairly apparent Candy was since I assumed she was about
twelve or so.  Otherwise my next step would have been a bit
risky.
     I figured I must have licked Candy to about three or
possibly even four screaming orgasms around my probing
tongue; her legs clasping my head, heels pounding my back,
and my ears aching from her thighs making sucking pops of my
outer ears like they were miniature plumber's helpers.
Thank God there weren't any other boats within miles, or
somebody would have been certain I was murdering the girl.
     Of course, tasting that tasty treat, smelling the
pheromones of nubile and fertile young girl, looking up my
sister's sexy young body as she squirmed in the throes of
orgasm after thick heavy orgasm, had the expected response
from *my* body as well.  Yeah, I got another hardon.
Wouldn't you know it?
     It seemed the most natural thing in the world, little
sister, innocent young virgin, or experienced girlfriend,
for me to move up the girl's body swab my precum-leaking
prick in the youngster's creaming slot and start sliding my
swollen dong into the soft, slippery, and still twitching
tube that had just been cramping around my tongue and
probing fingers.  I barely managed to grasp a tiny smidgen
of sanity.  "Uh," I croaked, "Are you sure this is OK?"  At
the same time, I was sliding inch after thick inch of
throbbing male meat deep into my baby sister's body where it
belonged.  If Candy told me it wasn't OK after all, I'd pull
out like she requested ... BUT, not before having at least
*once* felt every inch of my prick being massaged by the
slick wet heat of my own sibling's horny young slit.  I
could then die happy.
     Candy didn't say anything ... at first; simply wrapping
her arms and legs around me and *pulling* me deep inside her
body as hard as she could.  Only when the tip of my prick
was inside her belly as far as it would go, the tip leaking
cum and probably even some sperm (from my previous
ejaculation into Candy's mouth) into the knob of her cervix,
did my little sister respond verbally.  "Shut up and fuck
me, you idiot."
     Ah ... Right.  I shut up and fucked my little sister.
     In, out.  In, out, with each stroke I grew closer to
unloading in the kid's tight little twat.  Oh God ... Candy
was only thirteen ... thirteen ... thirteen.  The previous
youngest girl I'd ever fucked had been fifteen when I was
thirteen myself.  There's nothing like truly young twat of a
girl who *likes* to fuck.
     "Uh ... Uh ... Uh ...."  As I slammed into her for
about the fifth or sixth time, I was vaguely aware of Candy
seeming to wince a tiny bit each time the head of my prick
rubbed past a bump halfway inside her.  What the heck?  "Am
I hurting you?" I asked, worriedly.
     "Juh ... Just ... uh ... go easy ... for ... a bit,"
grunted Candy; working her body back at mine.  "I need to
... uh ... get used to it," she explained.
     Oh God.  "You're a virgin?" I asked; almost ready to
pull out.  I never expected *ever* to fuck a virgin.  All
the virgins in the world got popped by big hunking brutes of
Jocks who then dropped the girl to go chasing the next
cherry.  "Nice guys finish last," was especially true when
it came to getting girls.  The reason the creeps got all the
cherries was they were the guys who wouldn't take no for an
answer.
     "Wu ... uh ... Was," she agreed.  "Uh ... Don't stop
... It's getting better now.  PLEASE don't stop ... I ... Uh
... I ... IiieeeEEEEKKK!"
     My baby sister was celebrating not only losing her
virginity; but her first climax around a real man's prick!
I felt Candy's body clamping and squeezing and cramping
around my prick, while her celebration of life got so loud
for a moment I thought I'd lose my hearing.  Damned good
thing we were so far out at sea.
     No, even with (or perhaps *especially* with) Candy
squeezing, cramping, and climaxing noisily around my prick
in her very first virgin fuck, I did *not* climax myself ...
believe it or not.  The experience was so astounding I just
rode it out; glorying in the knowledge I was not only the
first person to slide his dick up in the girl, but that
Candy was so obviously enjoying her virgin fuck; throwing
her body at mine and grabbing me so hard my arms and back
ached.
     Finally she slowed; her face a glowing revelation of
satisfied and satiated young girl.  Candy was truly and
gloriously fucked.  "Thanks, Big Brother," she whispered;
this time seeming to put far more gratefulness into her
appreciation than even she had when getting off on my tongue
about ten minutes earlier.
     "You're welcome, Baby Sister," I responded; meaning
every bit of it.  Even if I never EVER did cum in her tight
little twat, I'd be willing to get the kid off that way ten
times a day or more ... IF I could ever survive it!  I
suddenly realized that this was the first time I'd ever
called Candy, "Baby Sister"; and she hadn't minded; even
cuddling up in gratitude as we snuggled up together in her
post-coital relaxation.
     I pulled my still rampant dong out of the kid;
intending to let the swollen thing relax and "take care of
my problem" later on.
     Candy whined with disappointment at the sensation of my
dick leaving her body.  I really think the horny little slut
would have loved to keep me stiff inside her tight little
tube all day long.  That, of course, just increased my
admiration for the kid ... Wanting more right after having
an enormous orgasm on her virgin fuck.  Damn, was I lucky or
what?
     Candy looked down at where a tiny bubble of white
showed just how close I'd come to spilling inside her before
she went into spasms around me.  "You didn't cum in me," she
accused; looking almost angry.  "You were *supposed* to cum
in me when I did."
     "It's OK," I tried reassuring her.  "I came real good
earlier.  Well, I had.  That my prick was aching from needed
release *now*, I wasn't about to tell the kid.  "Besides," I
added in explanation, "I don't have any condoms.  I forgot
to get them at the store."  I was really kicking myself for
that one, believe me.
     "Oh, don't be silly," grunted Candy; half in disgust
and half because she was now fisting my cum-leaking prick
and fitting it up against her tiny little hole and sheathing
the thing inside her like a sword going into its scabbard.
"You can cum in me as much as you want to," she explained;
confirming my suspicion about Mom probably putting her on
the pill at age 12 or even earlier.
     "Besides," she added; now fucking me with the obvious
intent of milking my penis for it's sperm and *not* trying
to get off herself, "my period was a little over a week ago,
so you can ejaculate your sperm in me as much as you want."
     I knew that a week after a girl's period was much safer
than two weeks into it; but no time is really safe.  Still,
my sister *did* have a point that being early in her period
*did* make it even safer to spill my seed in her tummy than
just the pill would.  Even the pill isn't 100% safe; thus my
wish I'd managed to bring along condoms as well.  The risk
of an unexpected baby goes *way* down when you use at least
two methods of birth-control at once ... yes, even the
"rhythm method".  We'd just have to be a bit more careful
when I came in her later on during the trip.
     Thinking about, "being careful *while* I came in her,"
was too erotic.  I came, I gushed, I squirted, I poured what
felt like my whole soul into my baby sister's sucking young
twat ... and then I came some more; spilling hot sticky baby-
goo deep in Candy's womb as I truly *was* careful ...
careful to ejaculate every hot sticky wad of sperm-laden
semen as deep in my kid sister's sucking young vagina and
fertile young womb as I could; as if I really was trying to
knob my sexy sibling with a baby girl of our own.
     This time it was *my* turn to groan, "Thank YOU, Baby
Sister," as the last thin throbs of sensation announced the
last tiny trickles of sperm-laden seed oozing out of my
prick and into Candy's still clasping and squeezing no-
longer-virginal twat.
     "You're welcome, Big Brother," she replied; giving my
now-shrinking prick one last friendly squeeze before it
slipped out in a flood of sticky white goo.  Thankfully, the
cockpit floor was made for messes and spills.
     The sail was flapping, the pennant flopping uselessly,
and we'd lost all headway ... but it was worth it.  I was
smiling, preening, feeling like thumping my chest and
bellowing like a male elephant in a Tarzan movie.  I had
just FUCKED a virgin!  Not only THAT, but I'd dumped my wad
in my own kid-sister's tight little twat ... and *she loved
it*!  I felt ten feet all, and able to jump small buildings.
     "Um ... Wally?" asked Candy; somewhat bringing me down
to earth; but not completely.
     "Huh?"  Bright I was, at that moment ... NOT.   ;-}
     "Weren't we supposed to be going someplace?"
     Oh ... Yeah ... Right.
     I looked around, and a thick band of clouds was moving
slowly in from the West.  They'd already covered the sun a
bit; and the wind was falling.  Time to get while we could.
     Pulling out a map of the coast and using the radio's
loop antenna as a crude direction-finder, I figured we were
about 20 miles from the nearest port; and only five from a
small island.  So, I headed for the island.  I'd wanted to
show off my camping skills on an island with my little
sister, not to mention my other skills.  <Big Grin>
     I had to run almost all the way around the island,
which we barely made before the afternoon wind died out
almost completely; leaving us in the lee side looking at a
small beach that looked almost artificial, as if somebody
had bulldozed down the steep side and put in a private beach
by hauling in sand from somewhere else.  Well, it was
possible.
     With Candy's help we got the boat in, head up almost
three feet onto the beach, and the anchor tossed out about
twenty-feet in the rear to hold the boat steady in an
emergency.  Then I took the bow-rope or painter up to the
nearest stump (yeah, stump, not tree ... somebody had been
here before) and made the bow fast with enough slack so
tides wouldn't break it loose.
     Tides ... Damn, I'd forgotten to check the tide-tables;
and the moon was nowhere in the sky that I could see to
figure what phase we were in at the moment.  Damn.  Probably
close to full tide at New Moon.  Ah well, what did it
matter?
     Clouds were getting thicker by now; but the boat was
safe, we were on an island; and as far as I knew were alone.
Still, best to check.  Some people got a little testy about
your poking around on their private island; especially if
they lived there.
     Not a big island; but big enough.  Barely half a mile
from end-to-end; most sticking straight up out of the sea by
about twenty to thirty feet or more ... up to 100 at one
end.  The tiny beach looked more and more artificial.  A
cleared spot in the middle showed very faint but not recent
signs of camping or tenting anyway.  By my guess, over two
years ago; as if the owners just didn't come out very often.
Their loss, our gain.  Not one single "No Trespassing" sign.
Some people didn't believe in them; though that got less and
less each year it seems.
     I grabbed a small downed tree, the spare sail from the
boat, and made a kind of half tent / half lean-to just short
of the path.  With luck, Candy and I could sleep there under
the stars tonight.  I used rocks to hold the "tent" out; not
having tent-pegs.
     Then back to the boat to properly furl the sails, get
the Coleman camp-stove that normally served as a boat-stove,
food, dishes, and amenities.  Thankfully the "survival tool"
shovel/axe/knife was still where it belonged in the boat; so
I was able to dig a tiny latrine; while a handy twig
sticking out of a tree made a TP holder.  So, no climbing in
and out of the boat to use the biffy during the night.
     It's amazing how beans, bread, and milk can make a good
meal with the beans heated over a gas stove in the middle of
nowhere and a beautiful, sexy, and horny girl by your side.
     We climbed into the tent, lay down on the blanket and
... Climbed hurriedly back out again.  Rocks and twigs do
*not* make a good sleeping surface!  I shifted the small
tree around towards the small beach, cleared a smooth spot,
cut a bunch of branches, and almost 45 minutes later we
tried again.
     About twenty minutes after that, we tried once more ...
in a different position this time.
     The third time took us almost an hour to recover before
doing it "doggy style" right out on the beach in the open.
     The fourth time ... Well, we didn't get to that.  We
just crawled into the tent, lay on top of the blankets,
snuggled up together, and went to sleep.  Well, why not?  It
was summer, it was warm, it was *nice*.  Not even a campfire
to put out.  We'd wash the dishes in the morning.
     I looked over at the boat and gulped.  Even if we'd
*wanted* to head out, it would likely be ten to twelve hours
before we could.  Kitty was sitting high and dry; about six
FEET above the waterline; her keel sunk deep into the sand
that stretched out probably a hundred or more feet past her
stern.  No way we'd move her before the tide came back in.
Damn.  Not that I'd *planned* on going anywhere that night;
but still ...
     The boat was certainly safe enough.  Yeah, right.
Well, actually, it was.
     We weren't.
     It was an enormous "!!!KRACKABOOM!!!" that woke us,
even before the rain and wind hit.  A long swishing noise
that sounded familiar; then a shuddering fainter "Boom,"
from somewhere up the island; followed a second or so later
by the earth shuddering under us.  It was only the next day,
seeing a big tree lying diagonally across the clearing in
the middle that we figured what had happened.
     Candy and I pulled ourselves hurriedly under the not-so-
great shelter of my homemade tent and cuddled.  Then, as big
drops of rain started to fall I suddenly hurried out of the
shelter, took a pee in our latrine, and rescued the TP roll
before it got soaked.  At my advice, Candy drained her
bladder too.  It was likely to be a long night; and not a
good time to have to go pee in the rain.
     Yeah, as you guessed, it stormed.  Not a *big* storm;
but big enough for us huddling under that fake excuse for a
so-called "tent" on an island that had only about ten trees
from one side to the other; and with perhaps half of those
sheltering us from a twenty to forty mile-an-hour wind.
     Now winds like that aren't all that bad when tucked up
nicely in a house or apartment.  They're *quite* different
in a tiny lean-to-tent with only comparatively small rocks
to hold the edges out.  By the time the rain was truly
pouring in gushers, cats, dogs, and little pitchforks, the
night pitch-black except for stabbing brightness every
minute or so, and thunder fit to deafen you, the canvas of
the sail was soaked, it was hanging limply over the pole,
and providing Candy and me with probably even less
"protection" from said rain than the meager cover of the
pine tree above us.
     I looked over at Candy during one of those flashes.
She looked back at me.
     In the next flash I looked towards the beach and
inquired, "Boat?"
     Candy agreed, "Boat!" and we made a run for it.
     By this time the lightning was almost continuous;
giving us strobe-light effect as we scrambled to reach the
small ladder and couldn't get up; getting drenched instead.
I finally boosted Candy up the side and into the cockpit
where she found the aluminum device and tossed it down to
me; giving me a small gash in the side of my face.  Well,
she just didn't know ... I'd never explained the boarding-
ladder to her yet.
     I managed to hook the contraption over the rear and
climb in.  By now we were both soaked; and we knew there
wasn't any point in trying to rescue the blanket from the
beach.  So we scrambled into the cabin.
     It was right about then that we heard the loudest bang
and crash of all; while a brilliant white strobe lit the sea
and island for miles around.  Candy had to shake her head to
even hear afterwards.  Me?  I was almost as deaf as when
Candy got off that time while I was eating her tasty twat
for the first time.
     I'm not sure; but I *think* lightning struck the mast
of the ship that time.  Difficult to tell as the pole is an
aluminum-tube, and goes right down to the lead keel on the
bottom.  A perfect lightning-rod to protect timid sailors
like us.
     After that last stroke, the lightning and thunder
rumbled and bumbled away into the distance; as if
disappointed it hadn't found the two victims it wanted.  The
rain however settled in to pour.
     The cabin on a sailboat, *necessarily* is designed to
be pretty damned waterproof.  A summer thunderstorm isn't
even a dent at what the sea will toss over the top of a
sailor's cabin.  However, water *will* come in the cockpit
and end up in the bilge where it has to be pumped out.  But
that could wait until morning.
     The cabin was slanted a bit as the boat wasn't quite
upright; but we managed.  No, we did *not* fuck.
     Morning ... Bright sunshine, everything clear and sharp
after the rain washed dust and crap out of the air ... and
my kid sister singing as she bathed naked in the water
alongside the boat which was almost upright again.
     I soon joined Candy; as naked as she was.
     After that, it took us almost two hours to clean up the
mess the storm had made of our neat little campsite on the
island.  The spare sail was shredded (there went a hundred
bucks or so) and useless; so we folded it up and put it away
for handling later.  We found the blanket almost halfway
down the island; but except for a tiny hole in one corner,
almost undamaged.  The tableware was scattered.  We found
everything though but one fork; which we still have no idea
what happened to.  All the rest of the camp-gear was within
five feet of where we left it.  The stove even lit on the
second try with the waterproof matches.  The spark-igniter
though wouldn't while damp.
     I managed fried Spam ... Spam fried in maple syrup.
Try it sometime; but in a Teflon pan.  "Eggs" from a powder.
Toast, jelly, butter, and hot chocolate made a pretty decent
meal.
     So ... What did we do with the rest of the day?
     Candy and I spent the whole day playing "Naked Savage"
on the island like little kids; stopping to make love
anytime we found a spot soft or smooth enough.  After all,
we were miles from anybody.
     We moved the boat out about twenty feet; mounting the
ladder properly this time; wading back and forth with
victuals for lunch one way and bags full of garbage to be
stowed for disposal on land, the other.
     Surprisingly, the roll of tissue survived only slightly
damp in the outer five or six layers.
     It was about three or four in the afternoon when Candy
and I were going at it again; my swollen and turgid prick
just starting to spit creamy white cum into the warm
welcoming recesses of my horny little sister's tight little
twat, when a loud blast sounded from what seemed like two
feet away.  The fright and possible scare of dying must have
triggered some primitive reflex and caused my body to try
for one last attempt at immortality by emptying my prostate
in Candy's body in one humongous and desperate **SQUIRT**
Damn!
     I looked over the edge of the cliff we were making love
on, and there, not fifty feet away, was a sailboat about
four times the size of the Kitty; and six people, three
couples were waving at us, *cheering* and smiling as they
enjoyed the free show.
     Damn.  At least they weren't laughing.
     Candy and I looked at each other, blushed what must
have been lobster-red, and started to stand up.  My prick
slid out of my little sister; still more than half-hard and
dripping obvious cum; while a streak of white slid down her
naked thigh to the rock we had been making love on.  Another
cheer, and a few claps; accompanied by large grins from our
unexpected audience.
     Well ... OK ... Why not?
     I caught Candy's eye; she seemed to read my mind, we
turned and faced the boat now moving farther away, took each
other's hand, and BOWED to our now cheering audience, as if
the show had been deliberately staged for them and we
appreciated their applause ... then we hurriedly faded away
into the bushes and rushed back to the boat to find our
clothes, in case the interlopers returned for an encore.
Nobody disturbed us the rest of the two more days we spent
on the island.
     That night we *did* sleep on the island, on the
blanket, and under the stars.  The torn sail/tent remained
in the locker in the boat.  Yes, of course we made love ...
three times, in fact.  Each time my prick slid inside my
little sister it seemed as if it had always belonged there.
Each time I spouted hot sticky cum inside Candy's body she
milked it as if desperate to get every drop while she could
... and I guess, considering the shortening time before our
parents came back to pick her up, she had a good point
there.  No way we could continue this affair after vacation
was over; so best make the best while the best was
available.  Damn.
     The next morning while spurting yet another hot sticky
was of baby-goo deep in my kid sister's squeezing young
twat, I confessed that I almost wished I *had* known how she
felt about me when she was only six ... so I could have gone
down to her room and eased my aching prostate by emptying it
in her tiny little slit ... first-grader or not.
     Candy almost angrily berated me for *not* coming down
and dumping my splooge in her belly.  SHE wouldn't have
minded, she assured me.  Far better for both of us than
wasting almost seven years when we could have been boinking
each other since she was in the first grade ... or
kindergarten even.  She called me an idiot ... and then
apologized for being a stupid jerk herself and not realizing
my "need" to dump my wad in a girl, and so "volunteering" to
be my cum-dump and whore when I needed one.
     That got *my* back up a bit.  No way was Candy a whore.
She didn't *sell* it; and wouldn't ... even for me ... would
she?
     "No," Candy admitted.  "But you could have *used* me
like a whore, anytime you needed to.  So ... why didn't
you?"  She looked at me shyly; seeming almost six again
right then.  "I wouldn't have minded," she said; ducking her
head in embarrassment.
     What could I say to a confession like that?  All I
could do was apologize ... and fuck the heck our of my baby
sister in reparation for neglecting *her* when *she* needed
a guy dumping his wad in her belly like men and women have
made love since time immemorial ... yes, even horny big
brothers and sexy little sisters.  I tried pointing out to
Candy that she was just a little girl back then, and I
probably would have split her wide open if I'd even tried
slipping my thick dong up her tight little twat.
     Candy pointed out in return, that she'd *seen* my prick
at twelve and even thirteen; and no way was it nearly as big
as it now was.  Not much bigger than my thumb now was; and
just the right size for a preteen to enjoy.  She'd even
experimented with hot-dogs that weren't that much bigger ...
though considerably longer.  Besides, if I *had* been too
big to fit my prick inside the kid, that didn't excuse me
from not using her mouth, or even her ass, for that matter.
Candy assured me she wouldn't have minded even that; though
she never thought of it herself at the time.  Oh God, just
the thought ....
     "Making up" to my little sister for all the times she
was a little girl and I did *not* come down to her room
where she waited every night after seeing me with Marylin;
half expecting, half hoping I'd do the same thing with her
... and somewhat fearing it too, was incredible fun.
Dumping my wad in my sister's womb while apologizing for not
doing that two, three, or four times a day while she was in
the first, second, or third grade; or eating the teenager's
tight little twat in reparation for never getting the kid
off in a similar manner before I went off to college ...
Damn, the kid even at thirteen tasted as sweet or sweeter
than her namesake.  Far tastier too.  What the horny little
sprout would have tasted like at only six ....
     Even more amazing was when Candy was sucking my life
out through my prick; drinking my hot sticky cum with such
obvious gusto it was plain this was no fake just to make me
feel good about the nasty thing I was doing to my own baby
sister.  To then have to *apologize* to the thirteen-year-
old for *not* sticking my prick in her mouth and ejaculating
my sperm down her throat while Candy was just a kid, was
mind-boggling.
     At the same time, Candy was constantly whimpering and
apologizing to *me* for not having the sense to come down to
my room, climb on my body, take my prick up her tiny little
hole, and *beg* me to spill my seed in her body where it
belonged.  "How can you ever forgive me for treating you
like that?" she'd ask; tears in her eyes.  "If I'd only
*known* how much boys need sex ... But I didn't."  By this
time Candy would be weeping.
     "You didn't know," I agreed.  "How could you?  It
should have been *me* who let you know ... given you a
chance ... at least *allowed* you to say no to me."
     Shit ... Were the two of us fucked-up or what?
     Can you imagine the trouble either or both of us would
have gotten into, especially me, if our parents had found
their thirteen year old son laying the pipe in his own six
year old baby sister's tiny little twat; spewing rich,
thick, sperm-laden cum deep in the kid's developing young
fertility while the youngster fucked back at him; begging,
squealing, and pleading for the older boy to use her as his
private sperm-dump?
     I would have been lucky to survive the night; while
Candy would have been shipped off to some crazy home as
"protection" from pedophiles; and we'd never have seen each
other again.
     I finally pointed this out to Candy; and she agreed
that it was probably better this way.
     Still, for the next several days I found myself "making
it up" to the kid for not porking her good while we were
both "young enough to enjoy it".  Yeah, right.  As if we
weren't enjoying the heck out of boinking the lights out of
each other right then and there.  Even now I often felt like
an incredibly nasty and dirty old pedophile fucking my own
baby sister at only thirteen.  How much more nasty and dirty
would it have been to be porking the sexy little squirt at
only five or six?  Damn.
     Still, I remembered all too well just how bloody horny
teenaged boys are (or at least how horny *I* was at even
thirteen myself.  By fifteen or sixteen I was a bundle of
sex-hormones in a boy's body.  I knew damned good and well
that if I knew Candy wouldn't have objected to me slipping
my swollen meat up her tight little twat and dumping wad
after wad of baby-making cum in the kid's belly, I'd have
been down in her room and porking the kid before you could
say, "Fuck that boy's horny!"
     Hell, let's be honest.  Even if I *knew* Candy didn't
like sex, and would have hated the very idea of making out
with her own brother, if I was just certain the kid wouldn't
tattle on me if I did, the twerp's belly would have been
full of my cum within minutes of my learning this ... hours,
at the very least if I had to hide it from Mom and Dad.  I
tried pointing *this* out to Candy ... That I was just a
pervert and didn't *deserve* her love and affection; and she
just berated me *more* for not "using her anyway", even if
she *had* objected.  Damn.  "What else is a little sister
*for*?"  she asked me; seeming to want me to believe that a
younger sister had some kind of *duty* to be her big
brother's sperm dump and jack-off doll during his years just
past puberty when sex becomes such a tremendous obsession
for most teenaged boys.  "Why *shouldn't* a boy use his
little sister to jack-off in, if that's what he really needs
to keep sexual frustration from ruining his life?" she
posed; as if acting as her big brother's sex-toy was
something little girls should grow up to expect and be ready
for any time the older boy got horny.
     She almost made sense; especially when describing how
much *she* had really expected me to come down to her room,
slide my swollen and aching prick up in her tight little
twat like I did that day in Marylin's; pump in and out,
ejaculate my potent sperm in her belly, empty my aching
prostate in her womb, and fill her flat little tummy just
chock-full of my potent, incestuous, and baby-making seed.
"After all," Candy finished up; seeming to dare me to argue,
"it wouldn't be as if you could have gotten me pregnant,
unlike now."  As if not being able to knob the kid with our
baby was a great reason for encouraging me to dump my sperm-
filled cum in the child's unprotected young womb.
     That last thought made me sweat a bit.  I mean: After
all, wasn't Candy being on the pill exactly *why* I thought
it was OK to pork the kid *now* and dump my hot sticky load
in the girl's womb?  Geesh, six or thirteen, was the logic
*that* different?
     Face it:  I was a pedophile.  Only pedophiles pork 13-
year-old little girls; and only *real* pedophiles daydream
of being able to have full penile/vaginal sexual intercourse
with six-year-olds ... even if the pedophile is just a kid
himself and barely a teenager.
     Still, I couldn't resist Candy.  I wouldn't have been
able to at 13 if she'd put the make on me then; I can't
resist when she puts the make on me now.  I love the kid too
much.  Yes, LOVE.  I mean, if Candy *wants* me to have sex
with her, how can I turn the kid down; knowing how much
refusing her will hurt the girl?  That's love isn't it?
     There's no problem at all if Candy didn't want me.
Hell, that's why, up to now, I'd never even thought of
having sex with the cute little squirt before; not even
realizing until she already had me three-quarters seduced
exactly how sexy my baby sister was getting; even though
Candy is obviously a full woman at only thirteen with a
woman's full sexual needs.  And, now that we were having
regular sex and it was oh-so-obvious how much the kid was
enjoying having her tight little twat wrapped around my
bulging and cum-spitting rod, how the fuck is either one of
us going to stop?  The very thought of not being able to
fuck my little sister again, is/was enough to make me (and
her) frantic.
     The next night we moved on up the coast; making soft
love in the evening with the rocking of the boat about a
mile off shore.
     It wasn't until Day-5 that I finally broke out the
fishing gear.
     Nothing.  Damned near all day long trolling with a
slight breeze; and not a single bite.  In the afternoon,
Candy suddenly got a large YANK on her line ... but then the
bait was gone, the sinker was gone, the hook was gone ...
Nothing on the end but bare line.
     Getting suspicious, I put a steel leader on.
     Sure enough, *this* time Candy had something, and
following my directions she pulled in a small shark ...
about two feet long.
     I was about to cut the line and let it go, when Candy
looked at me with soulful eyes about her very first "catch";
and asked, "Don't some people eat shark?"
     We ate shark.
     Skinned, filleted, coated in fish-batter, and fried in
butter, it's not bad at all.
     Honestly!  Would I kid you about fish in a sex-story?
     Sex in a fish-story, yes; but that's different.
     
     That night Candy once again complained about not
getting laid by me earlier; even though we'd already settled
that six years old *might* be a bit young for a teenager to
be porking his baby sister.  She didn't necessarily agree
with the idea; having it in her mind since that age and
before that I should have been porking *her* instead of my
various girlfriends ... if for no other reason than that she
was *there* available, and willing to take my prick, my cum,
and even my babies in her flat little tummy, if that was
what I wanted.
     "Still," she whined a bit, "You'd at least think you'd
notice when I was eleven and had my first period."
     I'd noticed.  I pointed *that* out to Candy.
     "They why didn't you fuck me *then*," she complained.
"After all, I was a woman then, no longer a little girl.  So
why didn't you use *me* like you did those skanky
girlfriends you kept having over?"  Just the thought was
well ... scary.
     "You could have gotten pregnant," I explained as a way
out.  To tell Candy I hadn't even noticed she was becoming a
"real woman" would have been insulting, even if the truth.
     "So?" she countered, "So what?  I've always wanted your
baby, ever since Mom explained how babies were made when I
was nine and I finally put two-and-two together and realized
that was what you were trying to do with those girlfriends
of yours."  Candy actually *pouted* at the thought of
missing out on having my babies.  Damn.
     "Those girls were all on the pill," I told her, "just
like you are now."  I shoved my prick deep in Candy's belly
to prove my point.
     "I never said I was on the pill."
     Oh shit.  You'd think my prick would wilt like a
marshmallow in a blowtorch with that information.  Instead
my traitor penis began belching thick heavy wads of
incestuous baby-goo deep in my little sister at the very
thought I might actually be knobbing my own baby sister
while we talked about such things.  Damn me, but it was
incredibly sexy!  "You *said* you were, the first time I was
about to cum in you," I accused; not hotly, but seriously.
While I did so, at least three more hot sticky gobs of baby-
cream spat out of my dong and into my kid sister's
unprotected belly.
     "What I *said* was, `You can cum in me as often as you
want,'" she corrected; now milking the last sticky sperm-
laden drops of family seed into her tight little hole.  "You
can.  You can even knock me up as often as you want."  Candy
looked up at me with starry eyes.  "I finally got tired of
waiting for you to make a move," she explained.  "That's why
I arranged with Mom and Dad to take this vacation with you
so it would be right in the middle of my period and most
likely time of month for me to catch, at the same time we'd
be together and fucking the most."
     "You *planned* on having my kid?"
     "Well ... *you* obviously weren't thinking about it,"
she explained; working dreamily against me now that my
prick's intended job of inseminating a fertile and nubile
young female was completed, "So I figured it was up to me."
Candy grinned at me.  "Took me several hours longer than I
figured it would, though," she snerked.
     What could I say?  I kissed her.
     "Just think," Candy murmured in my ear as we snuggled
together in post-coital relaxation; my shrinking dong still
held comfortably inside the kid's clasping and un-clasping
little baby-tube.  "We *could* be making a baby right now."
     The very thought caused a surge of something to ripple
through my prick and into my sister's body.  If we hadn't
been cuddled up so closely, likely the reaction would have
forced the member out of her patiently squeezing vagina.  I
couldn't help but add another thought that came to me in
response: "... Or," I added, "I might have knocked you up
that first night I came in you.  You *might* be carrying my
kid in that cute little tummy of yours right now!"  Candy's
soft and smoothly clasping vagina went into sudden cramps
around my now softened dong; stripping tiny remainders of
sperm I didn't realize were left in the flaccid member up
into her body and perhaps even into the kid's womb.  It was
quite obvious that being knocked-up by her own brother
wasn't exactly something the kid thought of as being a
disaster.
     "What will Mom and Dad say when you come home with
tight panties?" I asked; wondering how the heck we'd be able
to hide her pregnant status, if and when she did leave with
my baby inside her tummy.
     "That's *my* worry, not yours," Candy assured me.
"Besides, it'll be several months before I start to show."
     Not even the pointed-out fact that the baby was mine as
well as hers daunted the kid.  She would handle things in
her own way ... Just like she handled me, once it became
apparent I wasn't about to jump her bones without serious
encouragement from her.
     From then on, all during the trip up the coast and back
down, stopping in about every other day to pick up supplies
at various ports, we made love "properly", with my prick
buried to the hilt in my baby sister's sex and pouring my
life-giving seed in her womb where the kid seemed to want it
oh-so-much.  No more oral sex except as preparation for the
main point of ejaculating potent male sperm in fertile
female womb while that same female was between periods,
open, ovulating, fertile, and completely unprotected against
the baby-making effects of her own brother's potent and
virile seed.  Sex in the boat, ON the boat, in the water, on
two other islands, and once on shore.  I even rented a motel
for four hours.
     One whole afternoon we vegged out on the beach next to
a small town; getting up for ice-cream and later going out
to dinner before ending up making slow languorous love on
the boat.  There's something incredibly wonderful to lay on
the beach, watching a beautiful young woman dressed (or more
properly undressed) in a tiny but incredibly sexy bikini,
coming up the beach obviously looking for somebody, and to
*know* that sexy young girl is looking for *you* and that no
other man will do for her.  To know that same night you and
the beautiful young woman will be having glorious sex, while
all the other males on the beach will have to go home and
beat off; never having the chance you do to spill their seed
in the soft young tummy and incipient fertility of that
gorgeous creature.
     On the boat we had sex doggy-style, "missionary style",
man on top, woman on top, from behind while Candy was fixing
lunch and her sitting on my lap while I steered Kitty.  I
probably must have left almost three quarts of sperm-laden
semen in Candy's sexy young tummy during that week and a
half we spent sailing.
     Yes, we're pretty damned sure she caught while we were
making love on the boat; as Candy's ovulation period would
have been right during the period we spent three nights in
the cabin, making love with me spewing thick wads of incest-
goo into the deepest and most private parts of my baby
sister's fertility three and even four times a night.
That's not counting the two or three times I spent boinking
the kid during the day.
     When we got back to the apartment after cleaning up the
boat for the next user, we didn't make it to the bedroom.
Hell, we didn't make it to the *couch*.  I barely managed to
push the door shut with my foot when we were making out on
the bloody *carpet*; thick brotherly prick buried deep
inside sisterly body; doing our best at "making babies"
while we still had the chance.  How I was going to survive
for months at the very least, and possibly even years before
Candy got "old enough" to move out on her own and hopefully
in with me without our parents getting wind of what we were
up to ....
     It was only after we were snuggled up together;
enjoying the wonderful comfort of having made love in a real
*bed* instead of on whatever uncomfortable surface that the
phone rang.  It was Mom.  She was frantic.
     "Where *were* you two," she almost babbled.  "Your
father is about ready to cut our vacation short and head
back."  Oh ... Damn ... Forgot to tell the `rents about
taking a week off to go boating ourselves.  It took almost
two hours of apologizing, explaining, and promising never to
do that again, before Mom and Dad calmed down enough to
promise to continue on their vacation as well.  I'd
*planned* on at least four more days with my little sis;
porking the kid so often and well that she'd never want
anybody else.
     "So what *were* you two brats up to?" finally inquired
Mom, once she assured me that Dad had stopped packing up to
return.  How could I explain to my staid and fairly innocent
mother that her adult son and baby daughter had been "up to"
having sex with each other; and even as we talked my half-
hard prick was "up to" and even inside my kid sister's cum-
leaking hole where I'd just spilled what felt like a gallon
of hot, sticky, and baby-making seed in the girl's eagerly
sucking young womb.  Damn, but did that feel good to just
let go in a girl without the slightest care in the world if
she got pregnant with my baby or not.  If not, then we'd
just keep on trying and having fun trying, until she did.
     "Uh ... We went boating," I explained.  "Candy and I
slept on the boat; so we weren't close to the phone.  My
cell got wet in a storm and didn't dry out until yesterday.
Sorry."  While every word was true; calling the incredible
romance Candy and I had on the Kitty as just "went boating"
was almost obscene.
     Talking about obscene ... After Mom finally got off the
phone, Candy and I got busy with some obscene actions of our
own.  Damn, but it felt good to squirt the kid in the
comfort of a real *bed* instead of the hard board and
minimal padding of a sleeping-bag in a sailboat barely big
enough for two people to turn around in comfortably.
     Reminded, I checked the phone-messages and found six
increasingly frantic "Please call!" messages from Mom, four
telemarketers mostly selling siding or windows to people
with houses of their own, two silent callers, and one rather
cryptic message from Jake telling how he was a bit annoyed
at my not calling; so he'd had to trace my progress up the
coast through friends.  Oh shit.  I made a note to buy
*lots* of stuff down at Jake's place, even at his atrocious
prices next time, rather than getting everything from the
superstore.  I owed him.  "I hear you and the kid had a good
time," he added cryptically at the end, just before hanging
up with a stifled giggle.  Oh God.  How much did Jake really
know about Candy and me on that trip of ours?  That he at
least knew or possibly figured we were making out and more
than just making out, was obvious.  Did he have any idea of
what Candy's real age was?  Did he even suspect that Candy
was really my kid sister?  His remark seemed to hint at
that, and even more.  Still, Jake wasn't the kind to call
the cops or blackmail a friend.  The worst I'd have to face,
even if he *knew* for sure I was boinking my own 13-year-old
kid sister, and even knobbing the kid with my baby, is some
rather pointed and raunchy jokes about pedophiles and
incest.  I guess I could put up with that, if I had to.
From the way his kidding me went next time, I should be able
to figure out just how far Jake's knowledge actually went.
     The last three days went incredibly fast.  Except for
swimming in the pool, Candy working on her tan (yes,
*naked*) out *by* the pool, with the encouragement and even
example of several older women who also tanned with suit-
straps off (and, of course, the ogling of the guys who for
sure wouldn't complain), Candy and I spent most of the time
having sex.  Sex in bed, sex in the bathroom, sex in the
kitchen.  We had sex on the floor, and about every way
except hanging from a chandelier or standing up in a
hammock.  We even rented a room in a "No-Tell Motel" for two
hours, where we made love in a waterbed.  Candy actually got
*seasick* the second time we tried that one; and after a
whole *week* or more at sea in a small sailboat.  Strange.
We soaked each other and soaped each other in the in-room
hot-tub that we paid extra for.  The manager never said a
word about candy being "too young" as we checked out.  I
guess either they saw about everything at that motel, or (as
seemed more likely considering things later on) perhaps
Candy looked old enough to have sex ... and perhaps as well,
having the same names, the clerk just thought we were a
married couple.  Well, after all, in some states I
understand that while the supposed "Age of Consent" is only
a few years younger than California, the age at which a girl
can get legally married "with parental consent" is *much*
younger.  Better for a simple motel clerk to keep his
suspicions to himself.
     I can't tell you with how much regret it was that Candy
and I showered together that last morning after spending
most of the night proving how much we'd miss each other ...
Yes, of course, by having sex together.  What would *you*
do, if the man or woman you loved more than anything in the
world was going away, possibly forever; the man's baby in
the woman's tummy?  Yes, we did just like probably darned
near every military couple do when the husband is shipped
overseas for an indefinite period:  We made the most of the
little time we had; trying to make up for months and
possibly years of missed sex (both before and after) while
we could.  The very last time I could barely get it up, as I
had damned little seed in my prostate to give my sister.
Still, I tried.
     I might even have strained something in my prostate
that last time; trying desperately to ejaculate more sperm
than I really had in the kid's tight little baby-tube, while
Candy herself worked, squirmed, mewled, and begged for the
last precious drop of seed I had in me; this being our very
last chance before Mom and Dad got back to ensure I actually
*did* knob my own kid sister.  Yes, we tried; and as you
already know, we succeeded.  Probably not then.  Most likely
it was a week or two earlier; and even possibly the first
time I shot baby-goo up my kid sister's tight little twat.
Or, reaching back, even when Candy inseminated herself with
my cum on that very first incredible night.  Damn, wouldn't
that be a kick in the shorts if it was true?
     I took Candy out to eat at Denny's; both of us getting
a "Grand Slam Breakfast"; since both of us were way too
tired after that long night of lovemaking.  We kept looking
and giggling at each other like two newlyweds; which I guess
I guess the waitresses thought we were.
     "Can I get you two lovebirds anything else?" asked the
brightly beaming young girl; not looking much older than
Candy.
     "No thank you, my tummy's full," responded Candy;
pointedly rubbing her slightly rounded bare midriff,   "...
of your cum," she whispered with a wicked grin under her
breath after the waitress left to get our check.  I'm not
sure; but I'd swear Candy said that *just* loud enough to be
sure the waitress caught the words; but not so loud anybody
further away would be incensed at her libidinous words.
Whatever.  The waitress was certainly smiling broadly; and
the check was signed with a flourish and a heart.  I added a
much bigger than usual tip; which brought an even bigger
smile, if possible.
     Ah young love.  It affects everybody who sees it.  I
guess Candy and I must have just glowed with the effects;
spreading pheromones around to make everybody near us happy
and wish they were also young and in love like we were.
     How Mom and Dad missed out on seeing our glowing, I'll
never figure.  I guess they figured it was just healthy
exercise, sun, and two siblings who loved each other ... how
*much* we loved each other, I wonder if they ever guessed.
     
     After Candy left, I was miserable.  I guess Candy was
too.  About a week later Mom called me long-distance to ask,
"What happened out there?  I thought Candy seemed so *happy*
when she was with you."
     "She was," I replied; not daring to say exactly how
happy she was with me, nor I with her.  "We just had a
wonderful time taking the Kitty up and down the coast.  Why?
Does she miss me?  I miss her!"
     "Well, I guess," confirmed Mom.  "The kid's been moping
around the house; not wanting to a stitch of work or
anything.  If I didn't know better, I'd swear your sister
was in love.  She didn't meet any strange boys out there,
did she?" she asked suspiciously.
     "No ... Not that I know of anyway," I replied
carefully.  "I couldn't keep an eye on her *every* minute,
you know.  Sometimes I had to leave and get groceries and
such."  Very misleading, of course.  About the only time
Candy were out of eyeshot of each other during the entire
two weeks was when one or the other of us was in the next
room or the bathroom taking a shit.  We couldn't bear to be
further apart than that.  Now we were three states away.
Damn.
     It was almost two months after that, that I got a call
from Dad.  "Walker," he said; using the name almost nobody
ever called me by unless formally.  "I need to ask you a
favor."
     "Uh ... What favor, Dad?"  I'd learned back as a kid of
6 never to volunteer without finding out what it was you
were volunteering for.
     "It's your little sister," he replied.
     "My God!  Is Candy *sick*?" I almost cried; jumping to
the first conclusion I came to.
     "Well ... Not exactly," started Dad.
     "What do you mean: `Not exactly.'?" I asked
suspiciously.  "Either she is, or she isn't.
     "We're pretending that she is."
     "Uh ... Say what?"
     "Ever since your little sister got home, she's been
acting impossible.  She mopes around the house, doesn't do
her chores, and goes out where we can't find her; never
telling us where she's going or what she's doing, and at all
times of the night even."
     "Oh ...."  Suddenly it dawned on me.  Candy had a cell-
phone where the long-distance calls were the same as local
ones.  The kid had been sneaking off at various hours to
call me and discuss how much we loved and missed each other;
but not daring for Mom or Dad to find out who she was
talking to, or at least what our conversations were about.
As far as *they* knew, we were just "normal" brother and
sister.
     "Maybe I should talk to her," I suggested.
     "I was wondering if you could do a bit more than that."
Dad sounded tired and worried.
     "Uh?" I prompted.
     "Candy has been sneaking off ... we think with some boy
or possibly even an adult or married man; and ... and your
little sister has gotten herself knocked up," Dad explained;
sounding miserable.
     "Do you know who the father is?"  If he did, I was in
big trouble; but I'd stand up for Candy and face the music.
     "No.  That's the trouble: Candy won't tell us."
     I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
     "So ... What do you want *me* to do?" I asked; hoping
against hope.
     "Well ...."  It took Dad a bit to get into what he had
to say.  "In the old days," he explained, "when a young
unmarried girl got pregnant, they often sent the kid off to
her grandparents' place, to a distant aunt, or sometimes to
a special facility for `young women in trouble'," he
explained.  "The girl usually was supposed to have
`Rheumatic Fever' or some other slightly disabling disease
for the months necessary for her to carry the baby to term.
Then, when her bout of `Romantic Fever' was over, the girl
would come back and nobody would ever notice (officially
anyway) that her mother had somehow given birth to a new
baby while she was off being sick."  I could almost hear Dad
sweating on the other end of the phone.
     "So ... You want *me* to be the `distant aunt' this
time, for Candy," I suggested; jumping the gun a bit.
     "Uh ... Yes,' he agreed.  "Candy seemed to be so
*happy* out there with you.  Your mom and I figured she
wouldn't mind so much being shipped off away from her school
friends, if it was out where she'd had such fun this
summer."
     "Uh ...."  Frankly, I was speechless.  Candy had
assured me she would find *some* way of getting back
together with me.  I never figured the kid was smart enough
to pull this one on Mom and Dad.  Well, crap: She did a good
job of getting *me* to do what she wanted; so why not our
parents?  From now on I knew I'd be watching Candy a little
closer and with a bit more suspicion.  The kid must be twice
or even three times as smart as I was to make our parents
think this idea was their own.  Normally any prompting about
such a thing would make parents smell a rat.  Mom and
especially Dad didn't seem to have a clue.
     "We'll pay for her education ... correspondence courses
... and see that you get reimbursed for food and board,"
prompted Dad; seeming desperate now.  "I know it's a lot to
expect; caring for your little sister while she has her baby
and nurses it for a few months; but we'll cover what
expenses we can; and maybe throw in a bit extra for your
trouble as well."
     "Um ... Dad?" I corrected him firmly.  "I'm not exactly
a poor mouse, you know.  If Candy wants to stay here or
needs a place to hide out for a few months or even a few
years, she can hole up here forever if she wants to.  I'm
not charging the kid or even you for upkeep; as long as she
does her own chores.  So, send her out; but make sure she
*wants* to come and live with me first."
     "I'm fairly sure Candy will agree," replied Dad.  He
*sounded* like he'd been brow-beating my little sister into
agreeing to going out to the Coast, instead of being steered
by Candy herself into suggesting the move.  "Your mother is
almost frantic," he added in explanation.  "If you hadn't
agreed, I don't know what we would have done.  Your little
sister makes it quite plain that abortion is not an option."
     As if.
     So, barely a week later I picked up a young girl, only
thirteen, at the airport.  I wonder what the airline would
think if they had even the suspicion they were,
"Transporting a young girl across state lines for immoral
purposes."  <Giggle.>
     Candy was definitely a young girl from three states
away; and having complete, illicit sex with her own big
brother would certainly qualify as "immoral" in most places.
     We stopped off in the same, "No Tell Motel" we had a
few months earlier; only not a room with a waterbed this
time.  Even though I didn't pay extra, the big TV in the
room was running "Classic" XXX-rated movies on the screen.
I guess tipping big *does* pay off in future service.
Shortly Candy and I were emulating "Junior" on the screen as
he slid his much bigger prick into his screen-sister
"Sherrie" in Taboo-II.  "God ... Fucking my own sister," he
grinned up at the screen while Sherrie smirked in return.
"How many guys can say that?" he asked, rhetorically.  They
just don't make movies like that any more.  Even the older
ones are getting difficult to find.
     
     After some discussion, but with my consent and even
giggling agreement, my sister named our daughter, "Taffy
Salmer Caine.  At first it doesn't make sense until you know
something about Romance languages and separate Taffy's
middle name into "Sal Mer" instead of just one word.  Well,
after all, what better name for an incredibly sweet little
girl, the daughter of Candy Caine who was conceived at sea
than "Salt Water Taffy"?
     After a year and a half, Candy is already starting to
show with our second kid.  She never did go home to Mom and
Dad; and they stopped asking after a while.  As far as
anybody knows we're just newlyweds doing what newlyweds do:
Having fun making babies.  Having the same last name helps;
though some people do look strangely at both of us when they
hear Candy's full name.  We just explain that our common
names were how we met; and most people accept that.
     We're both hoping this next one is a boy.
     
