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Demanding note leads to night of passion.

She said she has to go down to the track at the university to watch one of her clients do laps. He's recovering from knee surgery or something."

"I see...." His mind, of course, had already bridged the gap of where he'd hoped this conversation was going. He desperately wanted to volunteer to massage his sister's breasts. He couldn't believe he was even allowing himself to think it, but the twitching, pulsating penis connected to his body was calling the shots now. Nevertheless, if such a thing was even remotely going to happen, he knew it would have to be her idea.

He said, "I'm sorry you're in pain, sis. Mom really is the best at massage, isn't she?"

Kristin glanced up at him. When they were growing up, their mother had been-still was-a strong believer in therapeutic massage. Getting a massage, Janice maintained, not only felt good, it also released natural endorphins into the bloodstream, which alleviated pain and stress. Have a headache? Get a massage. Stressful day in school? Massage. Upset about a tragic event? Massage. Mom was very generous with her massages, and she'd taught both of her children to be pretty good amateur massage therapists, too.

Which is exactly what Rick was hoping his little sister would remember.

And she did.

"Ricky...would you mind helping me?"

Trying to stay cool, he said casually, "Hmm? How?"

"Would you massage me? I really am in pain here."

Resisting the urge to pounce on her, Rick managed, "Sure...I suppose."

Despite his attempt to be cool, Kristin sensed the anxiety in his voice. She said, "You don't have a problem massaging my boobs, do you?"

"Me? No. Of course not."

Kristin smiled and immediately took her shirt off. Reclining back on the bed with her wonderful 18-year-old breasts sticking right up, she said, "Oh, thank you, Ricky! This is going to feel sooooo good."

You don't know the half of it, Rick thought as he approached his sister. He took a step over to her and looked down. He was now only a couple of feet from her, and he could gaze without obstruction or distance at the smooth flesh of her naked upper body. He could smell her soft fruity scent, too. It was intoxicating. He felt his knees weakening.

Now came the question of how to begin. Did he just lean down and start rubbing away? Should he find some massage lotion? How should he sit? He was wearing this towel like a tight kilt, which made things awkward. (Strangely enough, neither one of them thought it was weird that he would be wearing only this towel while he massaged his half-naked sister.) Finally, he sat along the side of the bed, facing her. He had to close his knees together. The way his legs were facing, if she opened her eyes and moved her head slightly, she would be able to see up his towel. In such a case, she would undoubtedly see his hairy balls, swollen with the semen that he would be desperate to release once this massage was over and he was able to escape into the solace of his bedroom...

His cock, still raging hard, was pressed up against his belly, tightly covered by the towel, which was rolled tightly at the top. He finally, carefully, pulled his protective hand from where it was holding everything together. As long as he didn't shift around too much, it felt like the towel would hold in place. And if he could get his cock to settle down a bit, there would be less risk of a towel slipping episode.

When he finally reached out and placed one hand tentatively atop one of her naked breasts, both brother and sister couldn't help but utter a mutual gasp-hers of relief, his of simple sexual shock. But Kristin's eyes remained closed, and a happy, relaxed smile remained on her face. That meant only one thing: Rick could proceed.

His instincts, influenced by the raging hormones of the horny boy in his body, were to squeeze his sister's breasts hard, pinch the nipples and perhaps even dive in for a nibble.

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