“Help!” my sister cried, floundering like a drunk duck in the muck. The muck was already up to the middle of her chest. It was up to the middle of my chest too, but since I was the older brother, and I was the one holding the tree-branch, it was my responsibility to save her from the Deadly Quicksand.
We had no idea we were going to fall into the Deadly Quicksand when we went out exploring this green, sun-speckled glade. The ad read: 5 ACRES, WOODED, YEAR-ROUND STREAM. ALL UTILITIES TO PROPERTY LINE. There was no mention of quicksand. Even if there had been, our folks still would have insisted we take a look at it. Ever since Sis and I left home and moved up here for college, inspecting property for our folks had become a fairly common occurrence. They’d find a listing on the internet, send us the link, and then Sis and I would drive out to take a look. It was all part of Sis’ plan to get our folks to go green, lowering their carbon footprint by embracing the back-to-the-land lifestyle.
“Dammit Bobby! Do something!” my sister whined, as she thrashed her way deeper into the Deadly Quicksand.
“I’m thinking, Sis, I’m thinking.” Actually, I was thinking about what I was going to wear to her funereal. She was pretty much a goner, and it was all my fault, since I was the one who just had to cross the stupid moss-covered log that dumped us into the Deadly Quicksand. But hadn’t it always been that way? Who was the one, back in the suburbs, who always had to climb the power line tower, or squeeze under the chain link fence up at the reservoir, or skateboard down Dead Man’s Hill with no one at the bottom watching for traffic? Yes, it was me. And who was the one always tugging at my sleeve, begging me not to do it? That would be Sis. But we always survived. Of course, back then, we never had any Deadly Quicksand to deal with, so this part of it was all new to me.
“Oh Bobby!” she sobbed. “We’re going to die!” She looked at me with that scared-shitless expression, the exact same expression I saw the first time Dad talked her into trying the pony ride at the fair. But she ended up loving the pony ride. Would she end up loving this too?
“Sis! Listen to me,” I said, in an authoritative tone, even though I was as scared-shitless as she was. “I’m holding onto the branch. Lunge at me, and I’ll grab your hand.”
“I can’t lunge,” she babbled. “It’s too far.”
Our fingers were just inches apart, like that famous painting, and it occurred to me that perhaps I should say a little prayer. I did. Moments later, my prayer was answered.
“Sis, pull your T-shirt off and we’ll use it like a rope.”
“You pull your own T-shirt off,” she snapped, giving me the icy glare I was so used to.
“I can’t, Sis. I’m holding the branch with one hand.”
I watched while she pondered whether or not she was going to go topless. The wait was excruciating, so I amended my silent prayer with a silent Amen, Dammit! A moment later, her T-shirt emerged from the muck like a soaked flag of surrender.
She twisted her shirt around like we used to do with the towels in gym class when we’d be snapping each other’s asses, and then she made a mighty lunge in my direction.
“I’ve got it,” I said, grasping the T-shirt-rope thingy. “Hold on, Sis!” I pulled, but she didn’t budge.
“It’s like I’m stuck in concrete,” she moaned. I pulled again, and the shirt flew out of her hand and sailed up into the trees like a soggy frisbee. It was hopeless. She was screwed. But the sight of her bare shoulders, the glimpse of the side of her white breast when she stretched out to reach for me, this was the inspiration I needed. I would save her at all costs. I would even sacrifice my own life if I had to. But first, I would sacrifice my pants.
I reached down with my free hand and undid my jeans, and suddenly I was coming unstuck from the muck. Just in the nick of time, I remembered the car keys were in my pants pocket, so I fished them out and tossed them up onto the bank. I also tossed my wallet, my lighter, and a condom, but the condom didn’t make it, plopping into the muddy pool like an expiring butterfly poisoned by toxic waste.
“Look Sis,” I cried, inching myself up out of the evil sludge. “If you just unbutton your jeans, you’ll be able to wriggle free.”
“I can’t unbutton my jeans,” she bawled.
“Why can’t you unbutton your jeans?” I asked, growing more and more impatient with my annoying sister.
“I’m not wearing any panties,” she moaned desperately.
“Why aren’t you wearing any panties, Sis? Did you sell them to some pervert on Craig’s List?”
“Shut up!” she snapped. “They were all in the laundry. The only clean one was my string thing that rides way up on my hips, and I hate it when my thong is riding up and all the guys are staring at my ass.”
Did she know I was one of the guys staring at her ass when her thong was riding up? Was she trying to tell me something, in an indirect way? Did I give a damn? No. I was too busy saving myself from the Deadly Quicksand by escaping from my jeans.
“Sis,” eryaman escort I said, waxing pragmatic, “if you die with your pants on, do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you?”
“What?” she moaned, with that same look on her face as when I’d told her, years ago, that Santa wouldn’t come unless she went to bed without pajamas. (Didn’t work, but it was worth a try.)
“The Coroner’s going to strip you naked, wash you off, and show you to the hearse driver and the janitor, and anybody else who happens to be hanging around.” ?”Ew” Sis grimaced.
“So, you can either take your pants off now, with no one watching, and let me save you, or you can leave them on until you’re dead and then let the Coroner take your pants off.” I watched for her reaction. It didn’t take long.
“Oh, alright,” she sighed, reaching down into the muck. “I’ll take my pants off, but no peeking.”
“I promise, Sis,” I said, craning my neck for a better view. “Don’t forget to toss your wallet and your keys up on the bank.”
She tried, but since she throws like a girl, her wallet splatted about three feet away, and immediately sank into the Deadly Quicksand with a pitiful ‘gulugalug’ sound.
“Think about your follow-through, Sis.”
“Shut up! This isn’t little league. And anyway, you suck at soccer!”
She was right. I did suck at soccer that one time when I played with the women on her college team. But how’s a guy supposed to concentrate when he’s surrounded by a sea of ass cheeks and a bevy of bouncing boobs?
In a fit of disgust, she hurled her keys off into the bushes, and then proceeded with the arduous task of squirming out of her jeans. By the time she was done, her head was all that was showing above the surface.
I thrust one leg over in her direction, she took a breath, and lunged for it. The feel of her fingers digging into my ankle, almost ripping my achilles tendon loose, was excruciatingly painful, but I was up for the sacrifice, if it meant saving my sweet naked sister’s life.
“Hold on Sis!” I yelled, genuinely concerned. If she lost her grip, it would be all over (my chance to see her naked, not to mention her life.) With her fingers cutting off the circulation to my foot, I gave my leg a tug, and the ensuing movement revealed her bare back, and, for a brief instant, both tits. Success! She wasn’t going to die. I was going to rescue her, and the coroner was going to have to go looking for some other victim to strip naked and leer at.
A moment later she was frantically climbing up my leg, trying desperately to escape from the Deadly Quicksand. Because I was submerged from the waist down, she couldn’t see what she was grabbing, and she snagged my boxers, raking them clear down to my knees.
“Uh, Sis,” I said, thinking perhaps I should make her aware of the fact that her actions could be seriously imperiling my modesty.
“What?” she gasped, pawing at me like a dog trying to hump my leg. Suddenly, my boxers were down to my ankles.
“Never mind,” I said, resigned to my boxer-less fate. She continued shinnying up my leg, but the feel of her strong fingers digging into my flesh reminded me of a certain ex-girlfriend, (a gymnast: parallel bars) and my cock started expanding, till the head was on the verge of breaking through the surface of the Deadly Quicksand. Sis’ hand inched higher up my leg. My cock grew bigger. Higher. Bigger. Higher. Bigger
“Oh my God!” she gasped as her fingers curled around my hard-on. “It’s huge!”
“Oh my God!” I moaned. “You’re going to break it off.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. She let go, and it popped straight up, poking out of the brackish water like a submarine periscope. Sis, ignoring my one-eyed mud eel, grabbed onto the bottom edge of my T-shirt, and then slid her hand up underneath it, which felt quite nice.
She continued climbing towards safety, using my body as a ladder, but I could tell that one particular rung of my ladder was on the verge of bursting. The squish of her naked breasts sliding up my stomach, the slap of her tummy against my aching dick, the sight of her white ass emerging from the Deadly Quicksand, it was pushing me closer and closer to having a personal accident involving body fluids normally intended for procreation.
She made a lunge for the branch I was holding onto, but her tits squished up against my chest, foiling her attempt. Stubborn little bitch that she is, she lunged again. And again. And again. Her tummy kept sliding up against my hard-on, and down against my hard-on. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
“Siiiiisssss!” I gasped, but it was too late. Suddenly, I was squirting jizz all over her chest, except for the first glistening glob, which hit the bottom of her chin.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, looking down her front. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I’m sorry Sis. I couldn’t help it,” I moaned, jamming my dick up against her stomach, trying desperately to finish cumming.
“Gross?” she sneered. With renewed vigor, escort eryaman she made another lung at the branch and caught it, but not before I filled her belly-button with one more creamy blob of hot semen.
“You’re such a perv,” she huffed, reaching down to flick seminal fluid off her slimy body. “Look at this mess. Are you happy now?”
I was so happy, I lost my grip on the branch.
“Nooo!” she screamed, as I flopped back down into the muck. Now she had the branch, and I was the one who needed to be rescued. But at least, if I died right then and there, I’d die happy, because I’d finally gotten to see Sis naked. Plus, I’d managed to squirt my cum all over her tits. How many guys can say that about their sisters?
“Is it okay if I grab your leg, Sis?” I asked politely, sinking rapidly into the dark depths of the Deadly Quicksand.
“I guess so,” she mumbled, distracted by the unpleasant task of cleaning semen out her belly-button. “Just watch where you put your hands, okay?”
“Okay Sis,” I said, looking up at her well-trimmed mud-muff and her slime-covered slit.
“You’re peeking, you asshole!”
“Sorry,” I said, as my fingers closed around her ankles. I shinnied up her legs till my face was approximately not where you’d want it to be if she decided to take a piss.
“Can you make it, Bobby?” she asked, watching me as I grabbed her upper thigh; my right thumb slipping perilously close to where a brother’s right thumb should never, ever be on his naked sister.
“I’m trying Sis, I’m trying.”
“You’re such a wuss.”
In her disgust, or perhaps in an attempt to get my thumb out of her crotch, she grabbed my T-shirt, and with a mighty burst of adrenaline, ripped it in half.
“Oops,” she said, as it splatted into the Deadly Quicksand below us.
“That was my Earth Day shirt, Sis.” (I didn’t tell her that the only reason I even had an Earth Day shirt was to make it easier to score with Sierra Club groupies. You know the kind: all-over tan, big hairy bushes, Kama Sutra next to the lava lamp on the bedside table.)
“Fuck you,” she hissed. “You threw my Shaklee shirt up into the trees, so now we’re even.”
We stayed like that for a few moments, caught in the never-ending cycle of antagonisim brothers and sisters often fall into. I considered giving her the ‘pushing each other’s buttons’ speech I’d just seen on a Doctor Phil episode, but I was too distracted by a certain shiny little button that had nothing to do with emotional response. I resolved to keep my eye on the pink prize, regardless of the lack of skill we exhibited in our feeble efforts at relating to one another.
“Okay Sis, I have a plan.” (My plan was to accidentally let my thumb slip a little to the left, so I could at least feel my little sisters pussy before I died.) (Okay, actually, that was plan B, although I was hoping to incorporate it into plan A.) “I’m going to shinny up your leg Sis, and when I reach the branch, I’ll climb back on the log and pull you up.”
“And I’m going to grow a dick and fuck all your ex-girlfriends, but go ahead and try if it makes you feel better.”
(See? Pushing each other’s buttons? Didn’t I tell you?)
I inched my way up Sis’ beautiful body, past her smooth white thighs, her volley-ball butt, her puffy-lipped cunt, her tight abs, her springy breasts, but it was a struggle, since we were both quite slippery from the Deadly Quicksand. In fact, it occurred to me it might not have been Deadly Quicksand at all, but perhaps some sort of hazardous waste material. It was quite gooey, and it reminded me of that oil-wrestling DVD I got for Christmas.
I was making good progress, slithering up her slimy curves, but I was also quite hung over from the night before, and eventually I got to the point where I really needed to catch my breath. With a slight adjustment to the left, I found a position where our bodies fit together quite nicely. I paused for a moment.
“Um, Bobby?” Sis asked quietly.
“Yeah, Sis,” I said, my hands slithering all over her luscious nakedness, trying to find something non-slippery to hold onto. My face was snuggled up to her chest, right between her slimy breasts, and it appeared to me the left one might have been slightly larger, by about 2 ounces.
“What are you doing?”
“Would you mind regrouping somewhere else? You’re invading my personal space.”
“And who was it that just saved your life?”
She rolled her eyes, but I had made my point. I lingered for a few more moments, enjoying what was left of my brief visit to the beautiful valley of the boobs, and then I pressed on, but not before one final nudge with my cheek, checking her left tit for firmness.
With a burst of Herculean strength, I stretched upwards, but when I looked down to savor the view of her nipples from this new angle, I lost my balance. Suddenly, I was flailing like a bike-riding clown in a circus, arms and legs flying in every direction. I made a mighty lunge for the branch eryaman escort bayan above, but when I did, my leg accidentally flew up between hers, making a succulent ‘smacking’ sound when it hit her ass. She gripped it between her strong thighs.
“I’ve got you Bobby?” she gasped, trying for a better grip on my leg with her thighs. She kept clamping and unclamping, clamping and unclamping, clamping and unclamping, each clamp smacking her slimy pussy up against my thigh like a rubber suction cup. Suddenly, her body stiffened. She gasped.
“What Sis,” I said, sliding my hand down onto her springy ass. I could feel her hips twitching against me.
“Bobby?” she gasped, her hips settling into a slow steady rhythm.
Even though we were both all slimy, I could feel a new kind of slime being deposited on my thigh, right were her labia were nibbling at my skin. That’s when I realized I was being presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. After checking to make sure she wasn’t looking, I sucked a stiff little pea-sized nipple into my mouth and started nibbling.
“Bobbeeee” she warbled, and then she was cumming. In fact, she was cumming so hard I thought she was going to let go of the branch just like I did, and then we’d both tumble back down into the Deadly Quicksand.
It was the moment of truth. It was go time. I had to make a life-or-death decision. With renewed determination, I got a better grip on the branch, and then reached down under her ass with my free hand, so I could catch her if she fell.
“Hold on Sis,” I bellowed, like the captain of a sinking ship. While struggling for a better grip on her ass, my fingers accidentally slid down between her slippery butt-cheeks and all the way up into the nether-regions of her slimy womanhood.
“Yes! Yes!” she cried, her eyes closed, her back arched, her little tits quivering with ever orgasmic shudder. I kept trying to get a better grip down there, and my fingers kept going in and out. In and out. In and out.
“Faster, faster!” Sis warbled, in a voice not unlike the one she used when she sang in the school play. I complied with my sister’s wishes, till my right hand looked like a jack-hammer down there between her legs.
“Oh fuck!” she kept saying, over and over. (It’s a good thing Mom wasn’t there. Mom hates it when Sis swears.) Her body was shuddering like a leaf on a tree, and it was all I could do to keep my three fingers from slipping out of her cunt and reaming her a new asshole.
Finally, after her orgasm subsided, I withdrew my naughty fingers from the depths of her forbidden love-tunnel and released her puckered nipple from my mouth. With renewed respect for my innocent little sister, I watched in awe as she opened her eyes dreamily and looked around, like it was perfectly natural for her to be naked, covered in muck, depositing her girl-cum all over her brother’s fingers.
“Oh Bobby,” she giggled.
“You okay, Sis?” I asked, wondering whether or not a little kiss might be in order. (I opted for ‘not’.) She caught her breath, and then her eyes opened wide, like she’d just seen a ghost.
“This never happened!” she snarled, snapping her legs shut like she used to do when I’d catch her daydreaming in church, and she’d forgotten she was wearing a dress. “Do you understand me?” she hissed, obviously back to her old sweet self. “This never happened. Never in a million years!”
“Whatever you say, Sis.”
The naked drive home was interesting, considering the fact that we were both naked. But leave it to my sister to ruin it. Resourceful little recycler that she is, she discovered a way to make clothing out of an old Weekly newspaper she found crumpled up on the floor. She fashioned a cute little mini-dress with sexy a slit up the side, a halter top, and a lame-looking fig leaf type of thing for me. We drove up to her dorm, she got out of the car to make the mad dash to her second floor apartment, and her top blew off.
“Dammit!” she muttered, trying to catch the paper scraps dancing in the wind like autumn leaves. Then her miniskirt fluttered away. “Bobby, wait!” she bellowed, standing there naked in front of dozens of interested onlookers. I stopped the car, backed up, and she jumped in.
“That was cool, Sis.”
“Shut up, you pervert!”
We drove in silence, till we reached my place, which is a secluded little alley house shaded by a giant pine. It was just a few steps from the car to my door. I gave Sis my fig leaf thingy, which undoubtedly ruined the day for the dirty old man who lives next door, and we made it inside my pad without getting arrested for indecent exposure.
Sis made a beeline for the shower, and then she bitched me out for not even opening the Shaklee bath products she’d given me for Christmas. I didn’t mind. Just knowing she’d be coming out of that bathroom in a few minutes, all squeaky clean and naked under a towel filled my heart with good will, and I let her bitching go in one ear and out the other.
45 minutes later, Sis cat-walked out of the bathroom like a supermodel on a fashion runway, holding her little pink towel against her chest. Her hair was all slicked back, her white hips were showing, and I’m afraid I might have leered a couple of seconds longer than what would have been appropriate for the situation.