For ten minutes we just kissed. Twenty. Soft lips urgently finding one another, tongues intertwined, probing wetness.
I felt her hand drift downwards, lower, towards me, towards the thing that had strained for so long. Her soft fingers danced down my chest, my stomach, but stopped.
Thirty minutes. Kisses more urgent, my mind raced, begged, but I would not say the words, I would not break the spell. Instead I tried to will her hand lower, will it to move just a few more inches, will it to touch me. I longed for it, a touch I had not felt in since the beginning of summer, months ago.
Forty minutes. I was on the edge of begging, I was so close to speaking, please Emily, please, please.
"Ohhhh," I gasped. Finally, finally, finally! Her soft fingers found me, wrapped around me, probed me, felt me. I held still, moved nothing but my mouth, afraid to do anything else, afraid even to stroke her hair lest I move in the slightest bit, move like I was trying to direct what she was doing. I was afraid to move lest she think I was asking for too much, lest she think I was trying to decide how she touched me, how fast, how hard.
One minute, two, three, four. Her fingers delicately and carefully moved over me, ever so slowly, knowing exactly what she could do and still keep control.
"You're such a good girl," she said between kisses, between movements with her hand, and I knew what was about to happen, I sensed it, I felt it, I had no choice. The slightest movement on my part, just a simple thrust of my hips, once, once simple thrust was all it would take.
But I didn't move.
"You're such a good girl," she said again, moving her hand slower, slower, stopping.
"I want to hold you while we fall asleep," she said, her hand now still, holding me, gripping me.
One thrust, but I didn't move, I wanted to, of course, but I didn't want to, either.
"I...I love you, Emily," I whispered, this time not even kissing her, afraid even that movement would be too much.
"I love you, too, my sweet sissy, I love you, too."