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Two couples share a lot.
I had to rinse my mouth, and did, managed to, despite his arousing my nipples and my feeling his stiff cock twitching against my thighs. God, he had forgotten all about "we shouldn't"! All about it? Everything, letting me feel his cock there?! If I spread my thighs, it felt like it would spring right up against my pussy, and it felt like it wanted it, already wet, wanting something in it!
I managed to turn around with my wet face and murmured:
"We shouldn't, at least not that."
I had turned in his arms. He looked relieved that I had defused what he apparently couldn't, and embraced me, his stiff cock caught between us. We looked at each other, both taking a long, deep breath, our stomachs pressing together. He nodded and murmured:
"'At least not that'."
But everything else?" I asked softly.
He nodded, and we separated enough to go to his room, turning off the light in the bathroom. In the dark, we found his bed. I thought it would be like the night before, but he rolled towards me and embraced me and kissed me. We kissed.
It is hard to think about anything, the way we were kissing, but I was: "everything else," anything else? What could that be? Just not "that." Anything he wanted; he now was as eager as I was to do whatever we could -- just not "that." And if he wanted to do that? His cock would; my pussy would!
Our legs were interlocked, drawn up, his thigh almost touching my pussy. I didn't have to tell him again that girls liked to have something between their thighs. His hand had slid back around my side and found my breast. Did he want to suck them again, and then lick my pussy, without waiting for me to make his cock shoot all over? But then he retrieved his tongue and murmured:
"You asked if we did anything else."
"Um-hmm, you showed me."
"She does something else too."
"Oh! Yeah, I wanted to ask. What?"
"She licks and sucks it."
"Your cock?!" Had I used that word before, talking to him?!
"And she likes it, to do it?"
"Uh, and does she, well, you know, swallow?"
"Doesn't let that happen, doesn't like it."
"Doesn't like the taste? That must be frustrating."
"Oh, then we really do it, so that's all right."
"But if ... since we aren't going to do that ...? You want me to?"
He just nodded, squeezing my breast. I had learned that that was his agreement to questions that he didn't want to answer with words.
"But she likes to do it, sucking and licking?"
"Um-hmm. I do too."
Yes, he told me about it, because he wanted me to do it. But if ... since we weren't going to do what they then did, did he want me swallow, let it shoot in my mouth? What was it going to be like? "Was," not "would be"? Had I already decided I would do it? It seemed so. I had been thinking for too long; he murmured:
"You don't have to."
Have to what? Lick and suck, or was he also thinking about my swallowing, probably? I murmured:
"Tastes peculiar, but, well, that's just the way it tastes; I guess the way it's supposed to taste -- of course. Funny! I mean, I didn't like some kind of French cheese the first time I tasted it, but all the grownups thought it was good, very special, so I tried it again, and, well, then it did. I like it now. Hm-hmm! And raw oysters, the same thing."
He chuckled, squeezing my breast again. Nice, that we had found this way for him to avoid using words to say something he shouldn't to his sister, like asking her to suck his cock. I rubbed his back and murmured:
"You let me do what I wanted; I want to let you do what you want. I really want to; if she likes it, I will, even that too, I think, hope."
"Me too, but you don't have to. I'll understand, if you change your mind."
"Hm-hmm! Like the cheese and oysters, I won't know if I don't let you."
We both chuckled, almost laughing. I chuckled again and remarked:
"Remember when we were kids, playing with water pistols