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Waking Up

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Okay, let’s get this out of the way first, I love coffee. I love good coffee. In many ways, my time in Africa was like a pilgrimage. I went to Ethiopia where coffee was born. The story goes, back in the 15th century, some monks noticed that their sheep got hyperactive after eating a certain berry and they decided to make a drink from that berry to help them stay up all night writing.

I had coffee made by locals who ground the beans with a mortar and pestle that were about 100 years old.

I have to explain this first to unpack the fact that when my sister made me a cup of Folgers, I wasn’t relishing it. I was dreading it. Bland freeze dried garbage. But she made it, and she handed it to me. My little sister who I watched grow up. My little sister who set in motion complex events that forced me to flee not only my hometown, but my home continent.

You see, for me, there are few things more appealing than when someone smart and pretty has a crush on you. For me, maybe the only thing more appealing was when something was forbidden. When something was wrong, bad, taboo. So when I saw that look of infatuation in my sister’s eyes when we were teenagers, it stirred up something inside of me. Some dark and delicious poison.

And so it went, two kids in a house with this thing growing. Passing each other in the hall. Knowing she was sleeping in the next room. Seeing her wrapped in a towel as she got out of the shower. Seeing that smile she had, those eyes, that look telling me I could have her if I wanted. I could have it all.

It’s like when I was a kid I was obsessed with those Narnia books. I remember thinking I was Edmund and my sister wasn’t the white queen, but she was the Turkish Delight. The thing I couldn’t stop myself from wanting, even though it would ruin everything.

We never did anything, not really. Though, there were a few little moments. Wrestling around, doing what kids do, with some pauses and weighty looks. There were nights alone, watching scary movies, where I had to leave, or else the poison would take hold fully. And maybe, once, there was even a little kiss.

I knew it was bad. Too bad. Which is why I knew I had to leave. That’s why I went away to college and after that, the Peace Corps. Taking all the poisoned feelings and turning them into something good.

Still, there was Christmas. I tried to stay away as long as I could. I didn’t come back for Thanksgiving or my birthday, but I couldn’t stay away every Christmas.

As I took the cab from the airport, I hoped that crush, that longing I saw in her eyes, must have disappeared. She was nineteen and in college and I was sure she had boyfriends and things, and she had forgotten all about her weird older brother.

When the door opened, I felt like I was going to faint. She’d become a woman. The tomboy I would tease was gone. She was there, her smile bright, her hair in a ponytail, looking even more beautiful than I remembered.

I mumbled some joke, something like “I must have the wrong house.”

I was standing there wide-eyed like an idiot, and she pointed at herself and said “sister,” and then pulled me in.

She was wearing my old t-shirt. She had written me once that she slept in it every night after I left for college and that she got mad at mom because she washed it and it didn’t smell like me anymore.

All my thoughts of getting over the whole things, the idea that the poison had passed or I had found a cure out there in the world, with the women I had been with, the men I had fucked, that was all out the window. One minute with her and I was the awkward teen who tried not to linger around his little sister too long, or he might do something stupid.

She started making the same coffee we always had in the house, and the scent produced a strange mix of repulsion and nostalgia in me. I dreaded the first sip, but when it came it was really nothing more than a slightly coffee flavored weak tea.

I took out the box. One of the few gifts I was able to fit in my bag.

I bought it in Marrakesh, in the night market, just a little thing. A porcelain locket, the most beautiful shade of blue, with little darker blue paisley designs like veins, and inside a picture of us at her high school graduation. One of the last times I saw her before that day.

She took the box and put it in her lap and looked up at me with this smile that radiated warmth and joy. She didn’t even open my present. She took off the bow and looked at it and then slapped it onto my shirt.

I laughed.

“What are you doing?”

She swallowed, and her smile shifted. Her eyes shone with that desire I remembered.

“You’re my present,” she whispered and bit her lip.

I had to look away from her. I felt my pulse quickening. I looked to the stairs instinctively, to my parents’ room.

“I asked them to give us some time,” she said, her face becoming serious.

“They say they know how much I missed you, but they don’t know, not really,” she said, looking up at me, her eyes wet.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I felt like I was standing on a ledge.

“I have something for you too,” she said, suddenly chipper again, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

I smiled.

“More bad coffee?” I asked.

She wrinkled her brow, not understanding.

“No, it’s something I saved for you,” she said, picking up my bag.

“Follow me,” she said, looking uncomfortable carrying the giant rucksack that held most of my worldly possessions.

“So I saved this thing to give to you, and it was kinda difficult to save. I almost lost it a bunch of times, but every time I thought of you and held on to it,” she said, mysteriously, leading me to my old room down in the basement.

I remember convincing our parents to let me move down there when sleeping in the room next to my sister’s became too much. I spent a whole summer putting up drywall and converting a corner of the basement to a bedroom.

The basement had changed. They had changed it from a game room into a sort of home theatre with a giant television and comfortable chairs. My bedroom was virtually untouched, though.

She sat down on the bed and look up at me.

I looked around, unsure of what she was doing. I didn’t see a gift anywhere.

“So, like I said. I have something for you that I saved for so long. It seems like forever,” she said with nervousness.

She bit her lip and looked at me expectantly. I didn’t know what to say.

“W-what? You didn’t have to get me-” I started, but the words fell away as she pulled off her shirt.

“It’s dumb, but, um, I saved myself for you. My virginity, I mean, not that it’s like a real thing, I know it’s like a construct, but yeah, I saved it to give to you,” she said in a rush, pulling off her pajama pants and sitting on my childhood bed, naked.

She covered herself somewhat, shy and unsure.

“I know you wanted to do things, but you didn’t want to hurt me, and we were young, but I also know you always wanted me. I felt it. I thought about it over and over again. All those nights when we were so close. All those times we almost touched. That one time, do you remember?”

I didn’t know what to do. The poison in my veins had overtaken me. As my mind rushed to find ways to stop this I knew I had already decided to do it. I turned and closed the door to my room.

“Do I remember New Year’s Eve, three years ago? When everyone was out, and I stayed home with you instead of going to the big party? When the ball dropped, and you turned, and I turned and then we were kissing? I have thought of that every day I was away,” I said, sitting on the bed next to her.

Her eyes were wide.

“Does it hurt?” she asked in a little voice.

“It doesn't have to,” I said, moving it, almost touching her almost.

I leaned in, and we paused for a moment before our lips met. I felt like I was going to cry or come or have a heart attack, maybe all three. She was so beautiful. She was my sister. It was so bad. Our parents were upstairs. She was biting her bottom lip the way I remembered she used to. I moved in. She let out a little moan before we connected.

It was immediately addictive, like the first hit of some drug. The taste of her mouth. The warmth of her body. The strange thrill of her being naked while I was fully clothed. The way she was giving herself to me. Her first time having sex would be with her own brother. Her older brother who grew up with her.

She pulled at my shirt, her smile gone, her nervousness gone, only want in her eyes, only the need to feel my skin on hers.

I pulled off my shirt and then kissed her some more. She kissed my neck and bit it a little, her hands in my hair.

“Maybe-um, maybe you can make it hurt a little?” She whispered and then smiled wickedly up at me.

The thing about doing something unthinkably wrong is that if you are going to that dark place, you might as well go all the way.

She kissed me again.

“I have been aching for this for so long. All week I’ve been, like, touching myself, but not letting myself come. Wanting to wait for you. I’ve been going crazy,” she said, laying back, rubbing her breasts.

Her body was fit, athletic, in some indistinct way very much like mine. We’d both played sports in high school and continued in college. Her breasts were smallish, perfect, topped with large puffy nipples that she tugged on meanly.

She suddenly bucked up and pushed me away. She had an intense look in her eyes. She bit her lip and looked down at my belt.

“I-I have been thinking about the first time I touch it. I saw it, you know, a bunch of times. I would spy on you. Did you know?” She asked, her eyes unmoving.

I didn’t know. I unbuckled my belt, watching her tense attention. I slipped my belt slowly through the loops, then I unbuttoned my jeans.

“I can’t, you’re my sister,” I said, smiling.

She burst into laughter.

“I won’t tell, I promise. Just let me see it for a minute,” she said, playing along.

I unzipped my jeans, and she pounced on me, pulling at my jeans.

“Seriously though, we don’t have that much time, I need your cock, please,” she begged.

She pulled down my jeans and then my boxers and then I heard her gasp. Looking down, I saw my cock, rock hard, and my sister’s face.

“It’s pretty,” she whispered to herself.

“And big,” she said, swallowing.

She grabbed it, a little too firmly, and then she relaxed. She looked up at me.

“I want to do everything with you, but we don’t have time. I want-” she started and then closed her eyes and licked her lips.

“I want to suck your cock for hours. I want to kiss you all over. I want to get on top of you and ride your face, but we have to be quick,” she said.

I nodded.

“Let’s, um, remember that last one though,” I said with a smile and took off my clothes.

She laid back on the bed and spread her legs, watching me pull off my boots and my jeans. I took off my socks and watched as she slipped her fingers between her legs.

“I didn’t know how you wanted me, so I went to a place at the mall and had them wax everything off. Do you like it?”

I looked from her bright eyes to her breasts, to her firm body, to the slit between her legs that she was slowly playing with. I swear I nearly came just for the sight.

“It’s perfect. I’d love it any way you kept it, but this is perfect. God. Fuck. I-I just need to taste it for one sec, then I’ll fuck you, I promise,” I said, getting down on my knees.

I knelt on the floor next to the bed, and she slid down so that her legs hung over. I moved in, but she suddenly covered herself.

“You’re really going to do it. You’re going to go down on your little sister?” She whispered.

“Yes, please let me,” I hissed.

“Okay, but you have to give me your allowance,” she said with a grin.

God, then I was tasting her. I was really doing it. I was tasting my little sister’s pussy, and it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened. The poison became molten lava in my veins.

It felt like we were kids, sneaking around, our parents could be home at any minute. I loved going down on women and my sister more than any other, but I knew what she wanted.

I heard her moan and I felt her squirm under me, moving my head to where she wanted it. I licked and sucked her clit for another desperate moment and then got up.

Her face was bright red, and her eyes were wild.

“Fuck me, please,” she said in a strained desperate voice.

“I got an IUD on my eighteenth birthday,” she said.

“I don’t want anything between us. I want to feel you come inside of me. Will you come inside me? Even though I’m your little sister and it’s bad?” she said, her voice aching.

“It’s horrible,” I said, rubbing my cock, inching closer to her.

The head of my cock rubbed against her clit, and her head rolled back.

“Please, please, please,” she whispered like a mantra.

Then I was sinking into my sister’s tight pussy, slowly, agonizingly perfect. She started shaking as I entered her, her leg muscles tightening as she shook.

“Coming,” she whispered, her face contorted with pleasure and the stress of keeping silent.

All the waiting, the years of wanting, I wished I would fuck her for hours, it was her first time, but the building need was impossibly powerful. Once I was all the way inside of her I started fucking her hard and fast.

She pulled me down to kiss her. Her arms and legs wrapped around me. She was like an animal, pulling at me, begging me for more.

“Come in me,” she pleaded.

“Please come in me, quick before they catch us,” she whispered.

I swear, my orgasm felt like a train hitting me. I would have groaned so loud it would have woken the house up, but she kissed me, kissed me as I shot my come into my little sister over and over again.

It felt like I came forever, hot and wet and so deep inside of her.

I laid down next to her, and she straddled me.

“Tell me you love me,” she said, looking down at me, her hair a mess, pulled out of its ponytail.

“God, I love you more than anyone in the world,” I said.

“Tell me you’ll fuck me over and over again,” she said, pinning my hands down.

“I promise. We’ll sneak away. I’ll get a hotel room. We’ll fuck until we can’t walk,” I promised.

“I love you more than anything,” she said, suddenly crying.

We kissed until we ran out of time. I heard people walking upstairs. She got up and quickly got dressed.

“I’ll go tell them you wanted to take a shower first thing. Then we’ll make everyone breakfast the way we used to. Just act-um, just act normal,” she said, suddenly panicking.

When I stopped her, she looked at me and smiled. She seemed to be glowing.

“Fix your hair,” I said and kissed her.

An hour later both of us were showered and cooking. Our parents so happy I was back.

I decided I could lie about not fucking my sister, but I couldn’t lie about the coffee anymore. Life was too short to drink that shit. I pulled a bag of beans out of my bag and the little hand grinder I carried.

“Whoa, what is that amazing smell?” My sister asked.

“Real coffee,” I replied and started grinding.

Her eyes opened wide.

“Yirgacheffe from Ethiopia,” I said and made it while she added to the pile of pancakes I started.

When it was done, I served it to just the two of us, knowing my parents were too set in their ways to enjoy it.

“Try it without milk first,” I asked.

She smiled, and her eyes shone with love.

The held the mug in both hands and closed her eyes as she took in the scent, then sipped it. Her eyes then opened wide.

“Oh my god, it’s amazing. It’s so complex! It’s like chocolate and lemons and wine. I can’t believe it.”

And that was it. Maybe even more than finally fucking her, I fell harder in love with my sister than I ever thought possible. I knew we would be together forever. I wanted to wake up next to her every day. I knew rolling over and kissing her every morning would be the best part of waking up.

The End