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Helping Hand	By : Nastyzak Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 4143 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls or the characters from it, and I make no money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
11 Early to Bed
On Wednesday at midmorning, gruncles Stan and Ford dropped in, and fortunately Ford called ahead in time to give Dipper and Mabel a heads-up. Within minutes of the call, both of them were up and dressed decently. At least Dipper hoped that Mabel was wearing underwear, because she had chosen an extremely short skirt.
And just as Mabel came bopping down the stairs, a familiar-sounding car stopped outside the gift shop. “Chilly weather for this time of year,” Stan said as he and his brother came in through the gift shop, both of them in warm coats. “Hey, we thought we might take you knuckleheads out to lunch today. You makin’ it okay out here all on your lonesome?”
After a hug, Mabel said with a wide smile,“Oh, we’re making it fine, gruncle Stan. Hi, Gruncle Ford! Where are we gonna eat?”
“Ford has a yen for Italian,” Stan said. “Right, Ford?”
“It really doesn’t matter that much to me,” Ford said. “Italian is fine. I just haven’t had that in some time, and I’m told that Bel Goloso is an above-average restaurant. However—”
“Italian!” Mabel yelled, cutting off Ford’s disquisition on the restaurant industry. “Yum!”
Stan nodded. “Yeah, it’s only been open a couple years, and I never ate there, but word is the chef is good and the grub’s authentic Italian, so . . . what time is it Eleven-forty? Wanna go now and beat the lunch rush?”
“Sure,” Dipper said. “Uh, how cold is it?”
“Just above freezing,” Ford said. “And there’s a chilly wind.”
“Definitely jacket weather,” Stan advised. He was wearing his battered old leather pilot’s jacket with a scruffy fur collar, and Ford was in his usual black long coat.
“Come on, Sis,” Dipper said. “We’ll need coats. Be right back!”
The twins went up to the attic. “I’ve got my denim jacket downstairs,” Mabel complained. “Do you really think I’ll need the quilted—hey!”
Dipper had reached down and raised her skirt. “I wanted to make sure you were wearing panties,” he said.
“Of course I am!” She quickly glanced at the bedroom door, then with a broad smile back turned her gaze back to her brother. “Wait, what do you have in mind, huh? A quickie! Yay! Whip it out!” She reached toward his crotch.
“No!” Dipper said slapping her hand away from his fly. “Not with both of our gruncles downstairs!”
“Later?” Mabel asked with a pout.
“Sure, whatever,” he said. “I’d suggest you change to pants, or at least leggings. You’ll freeze with bare legs.”
“Good point.” Mabel hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her mini skirt and pushed it down, then tugged on a pair of jeans and added socks and her sneakers, while Dipper went to the closet for his lumberjack coat—it was a red-and-black plaid flannel with a heavy lining, nice and warm in cold weather—and then helped Mabel into her light-blue quilted and insulated jacket.
They clattered down the stairs and out to Stanley’s classic red-and-white convertible. “Whoo!” Mabel said as the icy wind hit her. The car heater was warm, though, as Stan drove them through town to a restaurant in what looked like a former farmhouse. It stood not very far from the driveway to Old Man McGucket’s home and lab.
As soon as they got out of the car in the restaurant lot, Mabel took a deep breath. “Smells delicious!” she said.
A medium crowd chattered and clinked silverware in the dining area. A waitress showed the Pines group to a table for four, round and covered with a red and white checked tablecloth. Stan asked, “Hey, are you kids allowed wine?”
“All the time!” Mabel said.
Dipper gave her a surprised look. "Uh, well—"
Mabel leaned toward him and whispered, "Now's our chance to practice!"
"Wine or not?" Stan asked.
Dipper said, "Well, okay, just one glass each, maybe."
Ford ordered a magnum of rosé and Mabel said to the server, “Hey, hon, how about water as a chaser?”
The water and wine came, along with a nice antipasto platter with four different types of plump olives, three kinds of cold cuts, and things that Mabel thought were onion rings but turned out to be calamari, along with assorted cheeses. They enjoyed the main course, too, though Mabel asked, “Hey, gruncle Ford, since I ate antipasto, if I eat pasta now, will I explode?”
“The chances of that,” her great-uncle said with a smile, “are zero.”
Dipper had been very carefully sipping his wine, and it was a small enough glass not to give him much of a buzz. Mabel, however, quickly polished off two glasses and obviously the Pines sensitivity to alcohol affected her. When she tasted tiramisu, she gushed, “Oooh, baby, I think I’m in love!”
Throughout the meal, Stanford chatted about the conditions both outside and inside the valley. “It’s a shame that the medical establishment shies away from McGucket’s organic nano-vaccines,” he said. “By now the epidemic might have ended.”
Stan was more interested in how Dipper and Mabel were settling in. “So you guys had friends over or what?” he asked. He waggled his eyebrows. “Any wild parties, hmm?”
Mabel hiccupped and shook her head. “Pacifica’s off on a honeymoon somewheres, Candy also got married and moved to Seattle, and Grenda’s like a baroness or something over in Austria. Also, Wendy’s up in Washington or someplace, so we’ve been on our own. It’s okay. 'S okay, we’re used to each other. Hey, is there any wine left?”
“She’s had enough,” Dipper objected, but a grinning Stan poured her about half a glass more.
“Thanks,” Mabel said. “What was I saying? Um. Oh, yeah, me and Dipper have been going to a few places we’ve never been before. It’s really exciting! And anyhow, um, let's see, college is so boring because classes are on the computer, and 'cause of the boredom, we just like to bust loose and unwind. Plus we play lots of games, don’t we, Dipster?”
“I brought a bunch of video games up, and my GameStation,” Dipper said with a warning glance at his sister. “Plus we play cards and, uh, checkers. And we watch movies and read and mostly, we’re just relaxing.”
“Yeah, some days I barely even get out of bed,” Mabel said, slurring a little. “Rest and relaxation, you know. That’s what we needed.”
“The bowlin’ alley’s fun,” Stan said. “I’d go with you there. Or I could teach you billiards, kinda like mini-golf with six holes! Also, the multiplex is open. Lots of people from the valley go to the movies there—I hear that everywhere else, theaters are closed. You kinda have to settle for not-so-new movies, but there’s six to choose from every week. Come summer, there’ll be swimming, boating, and fishing. Always something to do if you just look.”
“So true,” Mabel said, nodding. “I like looking a lot.” She giggled. “Oh, man, I’m sleepy for some reason!”
Her drooping eyelids made that obvious, and soon enough the elder Pines twins drove them back to the Shack. Mabel was grinning in an unfocused way with her eyes half-closed, and Ford said, “Mason, I think perhaps you should put her to bed.”
“Good idea,” Mabel said with a goofy smile. “Dipper, take me to bed!” Then she laughed for too many seconds.
“I’ll see that she rests up,” Dipper said.
“Well-p,” Stan told him, “anytime you guys wanna do something, or if you need dough for movies or anything, call on my brother.”
“DO you need any money?” Ford asked.
“No, we're fine,” Dipper said. “But thanks, and if we do need anything—”
“Brobro, I feel funny, but not in a ha-ha way,” Mabel said. She rubbed her mouth. “My lips are all numb!” Then she giggled again. “You better get me in bed!”
"She gonna be okay?" Stan asked.
“I told you one glass each. Mabel just can't take much wine,” Dipper said as he took Mabel's hand and led her inside. “Thanks, guys, for lunch and all. I’d better take care of Mabel now.”
The brothers said their goodbyes, and the instant their gruncles had driven away, Dipper locked and bolted the door. “Mabel,” he said.
She was giggling and fumbling at his belt buckle. “Wanna go to BED, bro,” she said with a vague but evil grin.
“Come on,” Dipper said. On the stairs she tried to yank Dipper’s jeans down. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Wanna see your cute butt,” she said. And then she burped. “Whoa, I think I had too much lasagna!”
“Come on,” Dipper said patiently. “One step at a time.” In the attic she finally wrestled his jeans down to his ankles. He held her off. “Hey, at least let me at least hang up our coats!”
He did, and then when he turned around, Mabel’s clothes lay in a rumpled pile on the floor and she was sitting on the edge of the bed, stark naked and showing as many teeth as that shark in the song "Mack the Knife." She crooked a finger at Dipper and slurred, “Come at me, bro!”
Dipper, just in his shorts and shirt, joined her on the bed. “Aren’t you cold?”
She lifted first her right and then her left shoulder, jiggling her boobs at him. She sported a few goosebumps and nipples sharpened in the chilly air. “Uh-huh! Warm me up, Dipper!”
He got a blanket, spread it over her, and then got under it with her. She snuggled close and nipped his ear before whispreing, “Wanna fuck?”
“I think it might make you sick.”
With great dignity, she said, “I will never get fuck of sicking!” Then she blinked. “Uh what did I say? Maybe you should let me sleep it off a bittle lit. I mean—what do I mean?”
“You had too much wine,” he said. “Just—”
Her face turned faintly green. “Let me up! Gotta go!”
Dipper hopped out of bed and helped her up, and she made an unsteady dash to the upstairs bathroom. She retched miserably. Dipper snatched the blanket from the bed and went to where she knelt on the hard tile floor, hanging onto the toilet and vomiting into it. “I’m freezing,” she moaned. “Blarrgh!”
“Here you go,” he said, wrapping the blanket around her and then kneeling beside her to hold her hair up.
She was shuddering. “Ugh! This tasted so good going down—BLAHH!”
“Better out than in,” Dipper said.
After another couple of heaves, Mabel muttered, “Ugh, empty, I think. My mouth tastes horrible.”
“Get up and keep the blanket over you,” Dipper said. “Come on.” He led her to the sink, ran the water until it got hot, then adjusted it to moderately warm, and wet a washcloth. “Let me clean you up.” He wiped her face and lips and then poured a little mouthwash into a tiny bathroom cup. “Rinse. Spit.”
She did, shivering. “Yuck. I feel so terrible. I don’t wanna ever eat or drink anything again.”
“You lie down, and I’ll go turn the heat up a little.”
She fell onto the bed and huddled under the blanket. Dipper went downstairs and bumped up the thermostat a couple of degrees, and then he checked to make sure all the doors were locked.
When he returned to the bedroom, Mabel said from her blanket cocoon, “Get in bed and hold me?”
“Sure.”
He added a second blanket and then, just in his shorts, he got in bed. His naked sister clung to him. “Dipper, did I make a flool—I mean fool of myself?”
“Not so much. You started to get real chatty. For a minute I thought you were going to spill the beans about the sex stuff.”
“Unggh! I never want to suck a cock or have one in my pussy again! Nothing personal, Dip. I just feel so blargh!”
“It’s okay,” he said, cuddling her. “You’ll feel better after a while.”
“I fucked up at lunch, didn’t I?”
“You made a mistake,” he said.
“How much wine did you have?”
“Just the one glass. About five ounces,” he told her. “You had about twelve ounces altogether, I think.”
“Did everything get funny and spinny to you?”
He thought about it. “I felt sort of, I don’t know, elated. Loose and happy. I didn’t get dizzy.”
“I got way dizzy, and I kept thinking of how gruncle Ford would look if I just blurted out, ‘Dipper and I are fucking! It’s great!’” She gave a weak laugh. “Between you and me, I don’t think gruncle Ford has ever fucked! He’s such a . . .” she yawned. “You know, what’s the word that means not interested in sex?”
“Aromantic,” Dipper suggested.
“I thought that was when somebody smelled.”
“Celibate, then,” he said. He did not tell her that Ford had once confided that he’d had at least four affairs while lost in the Multiverse, one with a Elven princess only two-thirds his height, one with a seven-foot-tall alien woman who had nursed him back to health after a serious injury, one with an Amazon warrior beside whom he’d fought off a band of orcs, and one with Suzette. “Ah, Suzette,” he’d said with a dreamy expression. He never did describe her or say in which dimension they’d met, though Dipper had the impression that she was human and pretty.
However, that had been years ago. If he had a lady friend these days, Ford kept it private.
“It wouldn’t have been funny if I’d really said we've been fucking and sucking and, um, fucking, though,” Mabel said sadly. “I don’t like how wine messes with my head.”
“Now you know better. Next time, just one glass.”
“Yeah.” They were warming up, pressed close beneath the blankets. Mabel hugged him and patted his butt. “You got a good butt, brobro. Want a blow job? I’ll try if you—”
“No, thank you. You’re still messed up from wine, and you sound half asleep. You just rest and feel better.”
She dozed until about four that afternoon, and when she woke up, muttering, “Need to pee,” she got out of bed and then yelped.
“What’s wrong?” Dipper asked, getting up to steady her.
She was clutching her temples. “Headache! And I gotta pee!”
“Come on.” He helped her to the bathroom again. She sat on the toilet and leaned forward. “I never let anybody watch me pee before,” she said to the floor. “Ow, my head! What did I do?”
“You’ve got a wine hangover,” Dipper said.
She finished, dried down there with a couple of squares of toilet paper, and flushed. “Give me a hand up. Ugh, I feel awful.”
Dipper rummaged in the medicine chest and found a small vial of a pain reliever. He got two and gave them to Mabel. “Take these with two cups of water,” he said.
She looked at the pills in her palm. “These are what I take for cramps.”
“They’ll work on a headache, too.”
She swallowed them, wincing as she chased them down with a couple of bathroom cups full of water.
Dipper took her upper arm and steered her back to the bedroom. “Now put on your bathrobe and come downstairs.”
“What are you gonna do now?” she asked.
“Treat your hangover.”
Down in the dining room he had her sit at the table while he brewed some black tea. She leaned over and put her head down on her crossed forearms.
“I want you to drink at least three cups of this,” Dipper said, pouring her a cup. He plopped three fresh doughnuts down on a plate. “Dig in.”
“I don’t know—”
“Eating carbs helps,” he said. “Drinking liquids with some caffeine helps. Staying hydrated helps—the more you pee, the more toxins you get rid of. Also I checked Soos and Melody’s medicine cabinet and found these. This is a zinc tablet—anti-bad cold, but zinc’s supposed to help a hangover, too—and a B-complex vitamin.”
“Thanks,” she said.
In half an hour she finished the third mug of tea. “I think I gotta pee again,” she said. “I’ll go to the downstairs bathroom. I can make it, you don’t have to help. Unless you just want to watch.” She smiled weakly.
“I’ll pass,” he said. “I think I’ll start a fire in the parlor fireplace.”
“Good idea, I’ll sweat it out.”
He kindled the fire and then went back upstairs for his shirt and jeans. When he came down again, Mabel sat on the sofa, her knees drawn up and tucked under her robe. “How’d you know all that stuff about hangovers?” she asked.
“While you were dozing, I looked it up on my tablet. How are you feeling?”
“Headache’s a little better.”
The fire soon crackled and warmed them. “Feels good,” Mabel murmured. She shrugged the robe open and leaned against her brother, the fire flickering its light on her tits. “Feels good all over. I think I might have overdone it when I said I didn’t want cocks anymore. Can I sit in your lap?”
He opened his arms, and she plopped her butt down on him and reached to pull his right hand up to her left boob. “Let’s check my reflexes,” she said. “Play with me a little.”
They kissed while he massaged and teased her breast. The nipple grew stiff. “What do you think?” he asked her.
“The patient may survive,” she said. “You can move your fingers lower if you want.”
“You’re gonna give me a hard-on,” he warned.
“My secret plan is working,” she said. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for taking care of me, brobro. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Sis.”
“Does my hair down there feel soft?”
“Yeah, real silky. What do you do to it?”
“Told you, I condition it. Later we can take a shower and I’ll treat yours. Wendy will like that. Ooh, that feels nice, brobro. Here, let me make it—” she opened her thighs—“a little easier for you. You’ve got a nice touch, Dipper. Hey, before Friday, let me give you a manicure.”
“Did I scratch you?”
“No, but I can feel your nails. Ooh, yeah, that’s nice. Tickle that place just over my clit. Now the juices are flowing! Uh—not to spoil the mood, Dip, but I think I’d be better if I took a nice hot soak in the tub. Come and scrub my back?”
“You talked me into it,” he said.
They used the larger downstairs bathroom. Mabel tied her hair back and squirted some pearly-white bubble-bath liquid beneath the faucet. “That smells good,” Dipper said. “What’s in it?”
She squinted at the label on the bottle. “Um, let’s see . . . essence of roses, cacao, kava, mint, and hemp. I like it ‘cause the bubbles are so thick.” She climbed in. “Ahh, nice!” The tub was Soos-sized, and she could stretch out in it. As the water rose, she said, “My boobies look like tropical isles!”
“Aloha,” Dipper said, grinning at the pink mounds with their darker areolas and nipples floating on a sea of bubbles.
“Sit here beside the tub, Broseph! This feels so good. Are hot baths a cure for hangovers?”
“Maybe,” Dipper said. “Gruncle Stan goes to Gravity Spa and sits in the steam bath.”
“How often does he need to?”
“He told me he always goes the day after New Year’s.”
“Yeah, but today he and Ford put away lots more wine than I did! Why didn’t they get all drunky and pukey?”
“You weigh a lot less than they do,” Dipper pointed out.
“Kiss me.”
She rose partly out of the water like the pink top half of a mermaid and hooked a wet arm around his neck. They had a lingering, open-mouthed kiss. “Do I taste like barf?” she asked.
“No, like the cinnamon in the doughnuts and the tea,” he said. “It’s a nice flavor.”
She submerged again, except for her head. “You, bath slave! Your mistress demands a washcloth!”
“How about a sponge?” Dipper asked. “There’s a fresh one on the shelf here, still shrink-wrapped.”
“Even better!”
It wasn’t an actual sponge sponge or even a loofah, but a soft artificial foam-rubber one. Mabel sat up in the tub and leaned forward as Dipper reached over to wash her back. “How’s that?”
“I am feeling so much better!” She scooted down in the tub and leaned backward. “Do my front.”
The soft sponge glided over her wet skin, and she hummed as he lovingly soaped and rinsed her boobs. “You seem to like this,” Dipper said.
“Yeah, I do! You stay kneeling on the floor, and I’ll stand up and let you do my butt and my intimate area!”
She stood, suds slipping over her shiny skin and dripping from her belly and crotch. He washed her round buttocks, deeply pink from the hot water. “You getting interested?” she asked him.
“Mabel, I’m as hard as Japanese algebra!”
“Ha, good one!” She turned around. “Now do my legs, from calves up, and finish off with my pussy. Then I’ll turn on the shower to rinse real good, and you can get in the tub with me for that part. Then we’ll see what develops!”
“Your valentine is starting to grow in,” Dipper said. “The sponge is too big for this. I’m gonna use my fingers.”
“You have my permission.”
He fingered the split purse of her pussy, and she started to breathe hard. “Clean enough! Let me drain the sudsy water and then we’ll shower together. Get those clothes off!”
When he climbed in with her, she hugged him tightly and whispered in his ear, “I’m so ready!”
“Me, too,” he said.
She treated his hair, top and bottom with her shampoo and conditioner. When they had rinsed under the shower, Dipper had a nice erection. The twins dried and hurried up the stairs. “I got something we ought to try,” Mabel said, opening her roll-on suitcase. “Here we go! Get another beach towel so we don’t mess up the bed!”
He did, and she lay face-down on it. “Lube me with this pink gel. Don’t get crazy with it, though. About a teaspoon goes a long way!” She handed him a three-ounce pump bottle.
“What’s this?”
“It’s massage oil,” Mabel said. “You can use it for massaging or personal lubricating. I bought it like months ago just in case I got lucky. It’s got lavender scent and jojoba—”
“Ho-HO-bah,” he corrected.
“Is it?”
“Spanish, so the j’s are pronounced like h’s.”
“Huh, I was wondering who Joe-Joe was. Anyhoo, it’s supposed to leave your skin soft and supple, and I like the slipperiness. I admit that once I masturbated with it. Too much information, Mabel! Okay, brobro, about a teaspoon squirted into your hand, and then rub your palms together and stroke me.”
He did, beginning with her shoulders and moving down. He had to reload when he reached his lower back, and he paid loving attention to her pliant, warm buttocks and then down her legs. “You’re glowing,” he said.
“Yeah, it feels so tingly and slippery. Now do my front.” She rolled over and stretched luxuriously. “Poor Dip, your cock’s all stiff and throbbing! Do me and then I’ll do you.”
He did, spending some time on her breasts, teasing the nipples to impressively stiff erections. Then down over her tummy, a little more oil, and up her legs and into her pussy, already self-lubricated.
“Lie down,” Mabel said hoarsely. “Face down first.”
She massaged him quickly, but it was stimulating, her hands kneading his neck and shoulders, his back, his buttocks, and then his legs, and the fragrance seemed sensuous, a little musky. He rolled over and said, “Honest, I don’t know if I can stand you touching my dick without shooting my load.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said. She straddled his waist and smiled as she massaged him. “Your nipples!” she said. “Getting all perky! Interesting how a guy enjoys that. Now I’m gonna turn around.”
She did, giving him a spectacular view of her butt as she rubbed the oil into his upper thighs, then his ball sac and erect dick. He groaned. “You’ve got me close,” he said.
She put a little extra squirt of oil on the crown of his dick and then set the bottle aside, reached down to grab his shaft, and fitted his dick into her pussy. She threw her head back and exclaimed, “Ohmigod, that’s so good! Hey, Dip, according to your browsing history, this is called the reverse cowgirl. Is that right?”
He reached down to grasp her upper thighs. “Y-yeah,” he said. “It feels great to me. Are you okay?”
Her buttocks flexed as she rose and sank, soft and bouncy. She said, “I’m fantastic! This is another hangover cure! Best one! I can feel your cock throbby-throbbing inside me. I don’t want this to be over too quick, so I’m gonna be slow and gentle. How come this isn’t called lrigwoc?”
That distracted Dipper just in time to keep him from spurting. “What?”
“L-R-I-G-W-O-C,” she spelled. “It’s cowgirl reversed, get it? How’s my butt look?”
“Beautiful and gleaming,” he said.
“That’s the oil,” she said. “It has a warming effect inside me. Can you feel a little heat?”
“Sort of like mild spice,” he said. “Interesting.”
“I’m gonna lean forward and brace on your legs. Not gonna pump you right away, because I love how your cock feels inside me!”
She leaned down, and he felt her hands grip his thighs halfway down to his knees. “This is really good,” she reported. “Am I bending it too much?”
“No, I like the feeling.”
"How's the view?"
"Fantastic!"
Wriggling her butt, she said huskily, “Get the oil off the table. Put a little bit on your thumb. Oil my butthole.”
“Are you—”
“Please, Dip, just DO it.”
He got the small pump bottle and awkwardly reached across his chest to work the pump, coating his right thumb with the glistening, aromatic oil. Then he reached down—her butt cheeks had spread open with her movement—and he pressed the tip of his thumb across the tight pink pucker of her asshole.
“Yeahhh,” she said. “You can put it a little way inside. I don’t mind. Push, not too hard.”
He applied gentle pressure, and her sphincter opened for him. She began, very deliberately, to move back and forth, maybe an inch either way at a time. She was simultaneously fucking his dick in her pussy and his thumb in her ass. “This feels incredible,” she whispered. “Is it too kinky for you, brobro?”
“Uh-uh,” he said.
He felt her take her right hand off his leg. “I’m gonna play with my clitty, Dip. This first time let’s just let ‘er rip, a quick one. Later maybe we can be more relaxed. Therrrrre we go . . . gonna fuck this big hard cock now.”
Mabel began not only rocking, but even moving her pussy in a tight circle as she did. To Dipper, her vagina felt incredibly hot. And he found himself turned on in a weird way by watching her butthole take half his thumb in at a stroke.
“Ahh! Yessss! Gawd, fu-u-uck!” Mabel cried, thrashing and arching her back. She pulled off him, slipping her butt off his thumb, and turned around. “Poor Dip, I came, and you didn’t! Let Mabel take care of that!”
She straddled his shins and, holding her hair back with one hand, bent over and took him in her mouth. Instantley he gasped and shot his thick cum. She gulped and swallowed, pulled back, and caught one last white splash across her cheek and nose.
“Whoa, I guess you liked that!” Mabel said, laughing. Cum dripped from her cheek down across her lips, and she licked it greedily. “I’m getting addicted,” she said. “I’m a cumaholic!” She smacked her lips and made a yechh face. “But the massage stuff tastes yuck, not like the mint lube. Mental note: Use that on your dick from now on.”
“Lay down,” Dipper said. “Rest for a minute.”
She flopped down next to him, wiped her face, and then rubbed her palm over her tits. “Cummy boobies,” she said contentedly. “Did you like reverse cowgirl?”
“It’s great,” Dipper said. “Uh, Mabel—?”
“You want to try anal!” she said, laughing. “Yeah, me too! With Mr. Buzzy in my cunny and your dick in my ass—”
“No, not that,” Dipper said. “Um. I know that I said this would all be too weird, us having sex and all, but you’re really great, and it’s—Wendy’s coming on Friday.”
“And ten minutes later, you’ll be cumming, too! Hey-yo!”
In a serious voice, Dipper asked her, “Are you going to miss—you know, us doing this?”
“Sucking and fucking?” Mabel reached down to pet his flaccid penis. “Your skin down here is real soft from the massage oil and your hair trim is nice. I dunno, Dip. Next week I'll be out of the game when I'm having my period. After that, you and Wendy won’t be together twenty-four seven, so when you’re not with her we can do whatever—”
“About that. I’d have to tell her,” Dipper said sadly. “And that might creep her out. Remember I told you if we crossed the line that we’ve, well, crossed, we could never tell anyone, but I'd have to tell Wendy.”
“Mm,” Mabel said, running her hand up to his chest. She toyed with his nipples. “I guess I can find myself a guy, now that I’ve got some experience under my belt,” she said. “Is that gonna bother you, poor brobro?”
“You’re entitled to be happy,” he said. “And if I have Wendy, then I can’t object if you find some guy to love you, can I?”
“I guess you wouldn’t be down if all four of us got together and, um, orgied?”
“I don’t think I could stand that,” he said. “I mean, now that we’ve made out, and even though I’m looking forward to Wendy, I’d be jealous to see you, um, with somebody else.”
“Aww.” She moved down and started licking and sucking on his nipples.
“That’s strangely erotic,” he said, feeling his penis starting to rise again.
“Mm-hmm. But the jojoba still tastes weird.” She moved up in the bed and gazed into his eyes. “Dipper, can we just take this one day at a time? I mean, next week I’ll have my period and be cranky for a couple of days and then out of action for three more. I’m lovin’ what we’re doing. I don’t think it’s wrong—not when it feels so fuckin’ good! I won’t confess to Wendy, I swear, unless she asks me about my love life. Is it okay if I don’t mention names but tell her it’s been amazing?”
“I suppose,” Dipper said.
“Because it has been,” she whispered. “And if we don’t make a big deal out of it, then maybe just now and then if I don’t have a boyfriend but I’m feeling really on the edge, could we, you know?”
“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know how guilty I’d feel about that.”
“You know, Wendy has had a couple of guys before.”
“Yeah, she told me.”
“And she’s not selfish. I mean, once she shared her last sandwich with me.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Am I a sandwich to you?”
“No, you’re better than that. You’re—a man-wich! Did you like the massage?”
“It felt so good. And you look really, really hot when you’re oiled and your skin’s gleaming and slippery.”
“I feel a lot better now,” she said. “What time is it?”
“Um . . . ‘bout six-fifteen.”
“I’m starting to get hungry,” Mabel said. “I guess it’s ‘cause I puked. The doughnuts were good, but let’s have some real food.”
Dipper made them a couple of triple-decker sandwiches and they heated up a can of vegetable-beef soup. “Does it bother you when I eat naked?” she asked.
“Not as much as it will you if you drop hot soup on your boobs,” he said. He had pulled on shorts and tee shirt, but she was enjoying dinner in the nude.
“If I do, you can lick it off,” she teased.
“Deal.”
They finished and Mabel had another two doughnuts as dessert, with a small glass of milk. Dipper washed the few dishes they had used. “Want to watch a movie?” he asked.
She had leaned back against the table and was fingering her pussy. “Do I LOOK like I want to watch a fuckin' movie?”
They sat on the sofa in front of the fire instead. Dipper stood and pulled off his shorts and shirt. Mabel grinned. “What . . . are you doing?”
“I didn’t have any dessert,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “Let me in.”
“Ooh, you’re so impulsive!” When he went down on her, she interwove her fingers in his hair. “You’re gonna turn me all the way on, brobro. Why’d you stop?”
He looked up at her from between her thighs. “You taste like cinnamon!”
“I do?” she rubbed a finger in her pussy and sucked it. “I do! Hey, it must be the doughnuts and tea! They have cinnamon in them. Wow, what a discovery! Flavored pussy! Have all you want!”
He lavished attention on her and before long he made her cum just from licking and sucking. “Now it’s your turn,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Little early!”
“It’s just exactly the right time.”
She got Mr. Buzzy and a tube of the minty lube gel. “This time,” she said, “you’re gonna get my ass. If I lose my virginity, I wanna get rid of all of it. It won’t be messy—what with the bubble bath and the shower, my butthole’s squeaky clean. Just lube your cock real good—better still, let me do it. Then you can try my tightest hole. But if I tell you to stop ‘cause it hurts—”
“I’ll stop,” Dipper said. “Are you really sure?”
“I’m always sure. As long as you take it slow and stop if I yell. Now give me the lube and let me loosen things up back there. Turn the light down, this is embarrassing.”
“After everything we’ve done?”
“Yeah, sticking my fingers up my butt is a little embarrassing. That’s good, doesn’t have to be completely dark. Lay down next to me.”
“Want me to put a little of the lube, uh, on the spot?”
“If you’d be so kind.”
“I’ve had my thumb in there, so it’s no big deal.”
She lay on her stomach with her butt raised and he squirted the gel in the appropriate place. Then she reached back and started to play with herself. “Let me just get my fingers in there and spread things out a little . . . I’m thinking I should get a butt plug to wear. I can order one online.” She rolled onto her side and said, “Now with this hand let me lube up your cock.”
She did, cooing over how stiff it was and how much she loved it inside her. Then she said, “I think I’m ready. Let me get Mr. Buzzy. My pussy won’t put up any resistance. Here we go—best for me to bend over the bed, you stand behind?”
“Let’s try it.”
“Just a second. Ahh. Ready, bro. Put the tip against me and then go in real slow.”
He found her opening and pressed.
With a grunt, Mabel said, “Try spreading my—uh—cheeks—yeah, like that.”
He gripped her buttocks, pushed them apart, and felt the tip of his dick slip inside her asshole. “Does it hurt?”
She grunted. “Little. Just a sec.” He felt a sudden throbbing and realized that Mr. Buzzy was not only in her pussy but was vibrating like crazy. “Whoo, yeah! Wait, Dip, I’m trying to unclench now. Slip me a little more.”
Her tight passage accepted him. She bent her shoulders back and said, “That’s what I’m talking about! God, I’m so stuffed! Go all the way in now—I can take it!”
It was way different from her pussy, but also very erotic. He began to fuck her, but she stopped him and said, “Uh, I think with backdoor stuff it’s gonna feel better to me if you go in nice and slow and then get your friction by pulling back faster. Can you do—ooh, yes you can! Oh, that’s good. I’m shifting Mr. Buzzy into high gear!”
Now the vibe was pulsating as well as vibrating, and he could feel it as Mabel pulled the toy partly out and thrust it back in in counterpoint to his movements. “This is real different,” he panted.
She gasped, “Can you feel the vibrator?”
“Oh, yeah!”
In a throaty voice, she asked, “How does my ass feel? Good?”
“Tight and hot! It’s so good!”
She moaned. “We can go—a little faster—that’s great, that’s great. Hang on, I’m cumming—fuck, yeah! Ahh. Keep going, I can do it again—shoot that hot load in my ass, Dip! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh, gawd, this is—wow, yeah!”
She was really pumping her pussy now, and she was moving her hips, letting him stand still as she took over the rhythm and intensity. He felt hot all over. He was no longer clutching her ass cheeks, but holding onto her upper thighs, enjoying the soft pounding of her buttocks against his lower belly and thighs.
Mabel came again, and this time her clenching and thrashing spurred him. He joined her in yelling, “Oh, fuck!” as loud as he could.
“I feel your warm cum shooting into my ass!” Mabel said. “This is so hot! Oh, man, this is better than having too much wine! You—you can pull out if you’re finished—”
He did and in the half-light of the dimmed lamp, he saw the white drip of his semen from her asshole. "Creampie," he murmured.
"My very first!" She squeezed a big white blob out of her but and said, “Get a washcloth?”
He stepped to the bathroom and came back with a warm, wet one. “I’ll clean you up,” he said.
“You’re such a considerate guy!” She let him wipe up the spillage, then lay back on the bed. “Did you like that?”
“Actually, I did,” he said, chuckling a little. “You mean you couldn’t tell? But honestly, I like face to face better.”
“Pussy, not ass, huh?”
“Yeah. Because—” he broke off.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Nothing, it’s just kind of strange to talk about it, but when we’re face to face and I can watch you cum, your face gets all pink, and your boobs sort of swell and turn pink, too, and you just look so . . . beautiful and happy.”
She nuzzled his neck and even nipped it. “I AM happy, Dip. Because I have the best, sexiest brother in the whole world. Tell you what—let’s shower one last time to get the oil off.”
“Another shower,” he said. “You must be the cleanest dirty girl in the world!”
“That’s me!” she said comfortably. “One last shower, and then we’ll lay here in bed and listen to some tunes and just snuggle. Then maybe in an hour or two, let’s see if we get lucky again.”
He kissed her neck and sucked it, hoping to give her a smooch mark. When she rubbed the back of his head, he stopped and whispered, “I’m already the luckiest brother in the world.”
***
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