Kissy
by Pan
“Why do you always kiss your friends goodbye?” my brother asked me, his head tilted to the side.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’d never find two guys doing that. Giving each other a peck on the lips whenever they leave.”
“Why not?” I said with a grin. “It might be hot.”
Arnold’s eyebrows shot up at that.
“So you do it to be hot?”
“Of course not,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “It’s just a friendly gesture.”
“Girls are so kissy,” he said with a strange look, before falling silent.
I went up to my room—Kristine had just been over to drop off some homework that I’d missed, and I was keen to get it over and done with.
A few minutes later, I looked up to find Arnold standing at my door, an odd gleam in his eyes.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said, his eyes flicking around the room, landing everywhere but on my face. “Just wondering when Kristine was coming over again.”
“Why?”
A small smile appeared on his face.
“Oh my god,” I said, sitting up and letting the book fall from my lap. “Are you into her?”
“No!” he said unconvincingly, and I shot him a knowing look. “Maybe a little. Do you want to see if she wants to come around and watch a movie some time?”
“Sure thing,” I said.
I returned to my work, but he was still standing there, looking at me oddly.
“What?”
“Maybe…maybe you should be there.”
I’m not going to lie—it was tempting to make fun of him, but it was obvious that he was nervous.
“Sure thing,” I said, and when I next looked up he was gone.
I didn’t think about it again until a few days later—my brother and I were watching that movie about Drew Barrymore going back to high school, when I noticed that he seemed to be watching me more than the film.
“What’s up?” I said, never moving my eyes from the screen. I wasn’t even a huge fan of the movie, but when my brother had gone to all the trouble of ripping it to DVD, I felt like it would be rude to not watch it with him.
“I was just wondering…”
He trailed off. With a sigh, I gestured for him to continue. When that didn’t work, I prompted him more obviously.
“What?”
“I was just wondering if you’d had a chance to talk to Kristine.”
Truth be told, I’d had a bunch of opportunities—it had just completely slipped my mind. As I watched David Arquette coach his sister on how to be cool, I felt a bit bad.
My brother liked a girl. Shouldn’t I be doing whatever I could to help him out?
“Of course,” I lied. “She’s coming over this weekend. Are you free?”
“Oh! Oh, yup. Yeah! Oh that’s great,” Arnold stammered, and for the rest of the film he just watched me in silence as I watched Drew finally get the man of her dreams.
At the end of the film, something that my brother had said struck me. Something he’d said a few days ago, actually.
Kissy.
He’d said that girls were so kissy.
I wasn’t sure if that was necessarily true. I mean, me and Kristine give each other a quick peck on the lips to say hi or goodbye, but I don’t think it’s a universal truth or anything like that. It’s not like all women are the same.
No, it’s not all girls who are kissy. Just me and my friends.
Or maybe just me.
Once the credits began to roll, I leaned over and gave my brother a quick peck on the lips.
“Thanks,” I said with a warm smile. “That was really fun.”
Fortunately, Kristine was free that weekend. She didn’t even question my invitation to come over and watch a movie, and so on Saturday morning, I was delighted to find that my brother had actually scrubbed up a bit—he wasn’t in a suit and tie or anything like that (it would’ve been weird if he was) but he’d clearly put a bit of effort in.
I was in a yellow sundress I’d found in the back of my closet. A little more frippy than what I normally wear, but I guess I was just in a good mood. My arms and shoulders were completely exposed, and my dress ended just above my knees.
Every time the breeze hit me, goosebumps ran all over my body. It felt nice.
I greeted Kristine at the door with a little kiss, and practically dragged her into the living-room where Arnold was already waiting. He’d remembered that Kristine liked Val Kilmer, and burned a copy of that movie where he’s teaching Iron Man how to be a private investigator.
To my surprise, Arnold didn’t make a move during the whole film—he didn’t even sit next to her! I wanted to be annoyed at him, but the movie was surprisingly good, and so I happily sat next to my friend as the story unfolded. I don’t think either of us took our eyes off the film once.
When it was done, it took both of us a few minutes to come back to reality. As we did, I saw Arnold sitting to the side, staring at us with an odd look on his face.
Then I saw the strange way that Kristine was staring at me, and it was like my brother faded away entirely.
“Did you enjoy it?” I asked nervously, and Kristine just nodded, biting her lip slightly as her eyes flicked down to my lips.
Kristine was wearing her normal kind of outfit—black jeans, a white tank top under a black jacket. One hand reached out and stroked my arm; a shiver ran through my whole body as soon as she made contact.
“Thanks for coming over,” I said, and it must have sounded like I was asking her to leave, because a hurt look came across her face…and she puckered her lips slightly, in preparation for her goodbye kiss.
It didn’t look like my brother was going to make his move today (and I had stuff to be getting on with), so rather than explain what I’d meant, I just leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers.
Normally when two girl friends kiss (distinctly different from two girlfriends kissing, I should point out) it’s just a quick peck and we’re on our way. But today, I was…
I dunno. I guess I was just feeling kissy.
Rather than pull away immediately, I kept my lips pressed against my friend’s. She didn’t draw back either, but just kept running her arm up and down my bare arm. Instinctively, I moved my hand to her waist, and she wrapped her other arm around my neck, as if bringing me in closer.
I’ve always loved kissing—maybe that’s why I use it as a way of saying hello and goodbye. There’s just something so fun about it, so playful and affectionate. It was such a nice feeling, my mouth against Kristine’s—I didn’t even question it when her lips parted slightly, and her tongue tentatively entered my mouth.
It wasn’t long before my tongue emerged as well, and soon it was dancing with hers, two soft, pink muscles intertwined, one playfully reacting to the other, as we explored each other’s mouths.
Her hand reached up and lightly grabbed my hair; I responded by tightening my grasp on her waist, wishing that she wasn’t wearing so many layers, so that I could run my fingertips along her skin the way she had mine.
For the next few minutes I forgot everything—I forgot that Kristine and I were just friends, I forgot that I was straight. I forgot the movie that we’d just watched—hell, I even forgot that my brother was in the room, watching his little sister make out with the girl he had a crush on.
All I could think about was Kristine—the warm taste of her mouth, the way she traced patterns on my bare skin with her fingernails, the tiny moans that she emitted each time I nipped at her tongue or lips.
Maybe five minutes had passed when she finally pulled back.
“Thanks,” she said shyly, and I beamed at her in response. I don’t know what she had to be shy about—we were just two friends, kissing each other goodbye.
“I’ll see you soon,” I replied in a husky whisper, and her enthusiastic nod made me smile. As she walked away, my eyes were drawn to her firm ass, held tightly by those form-fitting jeans. Glancing over to my brother, I noticed that he was staring at her as well, a strong look of lust in his eyes.
Poor guy. He really had it bad.
The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully. I guess I was just in a movie-watching mood, because when my brother brought down a stack of other DVDs he’d burned, I joined him in watching them all.
By the end of the last film (an old musical about actors in a Shakespeare play), my head was throbbing. I guess that’s the price you pay for spending a whole day staring at the TV.
I got up and began to stagger to my room, but my brother stopped me.
“No kiss?” he said, a pout on his face.
“Oh,” I muttered. “Of course.” I felt so rude.
Sitting in his lap, I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled his mouth to mine. My tongue immediately began exploring his mouth—he stiffened with surprise, but soon his hands were roaming up and down my back, and I was able to relax and really melt into the kiss.
I guess it’s just a part of being kissy; I’ve always been super comfortable with physical affection. It was actually a little bit weird that I’d been watching the film from the other couch; normally I’d be sitting on my brother’s lap, letting his hands explore my body as we watched the film.
Still, at least we were making up for it now. As we kissed, one of his hands started moving up and down my thigh, pausing before he could reach my panties. His other hand drifted up to my chest and began groping my bra-covered tits through my dress.
A soft moan left my lips, and (as if he’d been waiting for encouragement) he stopped teasing me, and slowly began stroking the front of my panties. A shudder of pleasure wracked my whole body, and I could feel my brother’s fingers getting more insistent, parting my pussy-lips slightly as he rubbed, starting to push the fabric of my underwear inside me.
I know that my brother had wanted a kiss, but his hand made me forget what we were doing. Pulling away, I threw my head back, and his mouth moved to my neck.
“Please…” I whimpered, and he was only too happy to oblige.
It’s not easy being this kissy, I’ll tell you that. My whole life has been spent like this—I can’t help but be physically intimate with everyone I like, everyone I love.
Hell, even people I don’t like that much. I’m just a kissy kinda gal.
Before long my brother had pushed my panties to the side—I was dripping wet, and he slowly, tentatively ran his middle finger up and down my slit. It felt like he was teasing me, but I think he was just making sure that his finger was nice and wet before he slipped it inside.
Pretty soon his pointer finger had joined it.
“Oh, god…” I said, as he sucked and bit my throat. I knew I’d have a hickey there—just another in the long line of hickeys that had been given to me by my brother, by my friends…sometimes by strangers on the bus.
When you’re as friendly as I am, it’s pretty easy to get covered in marks.
As soon as the waves of my orgasm began to subside, my mind cleared slightly, and I realized that something was wrong.
Really wrong.
My brother had asked me for a kiss, and I’d just writhed around on his lap like it was his job to pleasure me. Fortunately, I knew exactly how to fix that.
I quickly slipped my bra off, slipped my dress down to expose my tits, and slipped down to my knees. Arnold stared down at me, a smug look on his face as I knelt before him, unzipping his pants to find a throbbing erection.
God, how many times had I sucked my brother off? Dozens? Hundreds? It might have been entering the thousands by now—I’d genuinely lost count. And yet there was something strangely unfamiliar about the sight of his hard-on, its feeling in my hands.
I guess I was just excited. They say it feels fresh every time.
My brother grunted with pleasure as I took the head of his cock into my warm, wet mouth. Soon my face was bobbing up and down on his hardness with my standard enthusiasm—giving head is basically a big, wet, slobbery kiss.
I was loving every second of it.
It didn’t take long for him to grunt again and thrust forward, filling my mouth with his hot cum. Like the good little sister I am, I opened my mouth to show him his own offering, and then swallowed it down with a loud gulp.
Straightening my dress and picking up my bra, I finally left for my room. My headache was almost entirely gone, but Arnold’s cum felt like it was sending heat from my stomach throughout my body, and I wanted to get myself off again before Mom and Dad came home.
Kristine couldn’t come around again until the next weekend. I was so pleased when she accepted my invitation without hesitation—she’d been weirdly distant all week.
When I’d run into her on Monday morning, she’d been rocking this awesome black halter top and denim skirt. She’d leaned in for a good morning kiss without hesitation, but had acted super strangely when I reached down and grasped her butt with both hands, tensing up and even pulling away slightly.
I didn’t let her go, of course—what kind of a friend would I be if I let her go about her week without her standard cheek-squeeze?—and I’d hoped her odd attitude had passed when she melted back into the kiss, but for the rest of the day it was like she was avoiding me.
At lunch, when I was casually grinding against one of the football players in the cafeteria, she didn’t come and join me—she just shot me a worried look. And when I emerged from the janitor’s closet with ruffled hair and a nerd’s cum in my stomach, she didn’t even congratulate me or offer to join me next time.
Of course, Kristine wasn’t the only one being weird. Teachers kept telling me off for sitting on boys’ laps, for making out during class (and directly before, and directly after) and when I got sent to the headmaster’s office for not wearing a bra or panties, he hadn’t even tried to punish me with a spanking—he’d just droned on and on about respecting yourself, for like forty minutes.
Even Dad had acted a bit odd. On Sunday morning I’d been in a rush to go to the mall and so I’d only had time to give him a quick peck on the lips. He’d looked super shocked by that, but I’d figured he was just unsure why I hadn’t given him a proper kiss goodbye.
So when I got home with bags of new clothes, I’d decided to give him a more daughterly greeting. As soon as I’d wrapped my legs around his and tried to get my tongue into his mouth, he’d backed away, shooting me a look of genuine fear and…revulsion?
No idea what was up with that. Fortunately, Arnold had come up with the great suggestion of watching a movie together as a family. I’d sat on Daddy’s lap—at first he’d been really tense, and even tried to talk me into moving, but by the time we were about halfway through the film (this great old action film with Samuel L. Jackson and the girl from Beetlejuice) he really started to relax, and by the time the credits were rolling, his hands were firmly on my tits, and he didn’t even object slightly when I dropped to my knees to swallow his load.
At least that was back to normal.
So yeah—when Kristine came over on the weekend, we spent about half an hour making out (just to say hi, y’know) and then she pulled away and started asking me all these really harsh questions. Why was I being such a slut, how many guys had I slept with in the last week (no more than usual—maybe a dozen?), was there something wrong with me, where did I get my clothes…
I just sat there until she ran out of steam, and then led her up to my bedroom, where Arnold was waiting for us. His eyes opened in appreciation at the sexy little black number she was wearing—it barely went down past her ass, and it was pretty clear that (like me) she wasn’t wearing panties.
Kristine started to object again, but I shut her up by forcing my tongue halfway down her throat, and soon she was totally silent, happily exploring my body with her hands.
Arnold showed her a video he’d made of the two of us fucking (another side effect of being so kissy is that I don’t really like spending the night alone, and when you’re in bed with a great guy, you might as well do what comes naturally, y’know?)—at first Kristine looked super grossed out, but it quickly became obvious that she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
By the time Arnold had come twice in the movie (and I’d come like six or seven times), Kristine’s eyes were glazed over, and all traces of anger or fear had left her face.
She looked at me with a soft smile, one that I returned.
“You feeling better?” I asked, and her mouth split into a cheeky grin.
“I’m feeling kissy,” she said, and as Arnold lifted up her lined himself up at her dripping entrance, I covered her lips with mine.