She caressed me, her hand going from the base and then to the tip, squeezing it in-between her first finger and the tip. Her smile got more intense as she went to the base again and practically choked it.
"This is what you would call a hand job, I guess," she kidded.
"Unnnnnnh," I gasped in pleasure.
"I love you, brother."
"I love you, sis."
"Suck, suck ..."
"Harder, harder."
She did her best and come to think of it, she must have gotten her experience somewhere. I didn't come however, because good ol' mom, who always ruins things, came running up the stairs to tell us to do some chore or somethin' and I scrambled to get my pants on.
Little did I know how that scene would be repeated later in my life. But I was getting closer and closer to finding out.
Chapter One
"That's the way, unh-huh, unh-huh I like it," blared the stereo as little Mary danced in rhythm to its swaying beat.
"Ay, ay," she sang along, "Turns me on!"
I happened to be watching the whole thing from the doorway. I'm John, her slightly older brother. I'm eighteen, hot and horny. I'm the brightest in my class, but people say I have inward, disturbed emotions. I say they're full of fuckin' shit, you bet.
In fact, they're all just jealous of my high I.Q. and try to stay away from me for that reason alone. "Poor, little Mary," I thought. If only the lord would take pity and spare her the fate that was bestowed so cruelly and unfortunately upon me.
I'm alone in this rural community of Lower Slobbovia, a mental giant among simpletons and ignoramus. Sometimes it amazes me, my demeanor and how I'm able to control it so well without outbursts. Sometimes, though everything explodes from me. Ordinarily, this is just due to my lack of tolerance to something anyone would call stupidity.
"Why, oh why must they be so meddlesome," I cry myself to sleep sometimes at night thinking. I try to keep to myself and yet, they won't let me. They think that I'm hoarding some type of deep, inner, dark secret in my genius that will guarantee them something in their willy-nilly lives.
The fact is that nothing is guaranteed in this cruel, miserable world of ours, and precisely that is what the denizens around me perpetuate, instead of looking forward, innovating and progressing as a result. Anything new, anything different, is automatically labeled as "harmful and bad" to Lower Slobbovia.
"Let me see it."
"No."
"C'mon, fagot ..."
"No."
Mind you, I'm talking with another student in Junior High School about some creative writing I have undertaken, not fully developed enough to mean anything yet, and hence my reluctance at public presentation. One might call this cowardice, and could possibly present a case wherein he/she would be justified, but at present I was merely occupied with trying to communicate in written form what was locked deep inside my soul.
"Please ..."
"No."
"Be your best friend ..."
"You're repulsive ..."
"Why, you ..."
At this point the objective observer will note that the situation, as personified by the second character (the last one to have spoken in the text above) takes a decidedly hostile turn in what, in a more refined circles would at worst be as a pretentious literary discussion, at worst just witty banter (to be polite, notwithstanding, of course).
Not that I can't see how an individual would resort to anything, give up anything, not let anything stand in his way to realize some sort of divine learning or achieve something that would be felt deeper than that being could only imagine before.
This, however was not the case here. It was ruthless, insidious jealousy. Dear reader, can you not blame me for not wanting to give into such terroristic tactics? I was alone and if I gave into one of them, I would end up giving into all of them.
"I'm going to beat you up."
A course of action is decided upon by one of us, obviously not one for a man of my standing and caliber, but it was not prompted by myself. I can either turn and run, at this point (I'm not fast), fight back (I'm not strong) or yell for the teachers (the worst possible choice). None at all plausible.
What follows is an age old story and I'm sure you can guess the ending. All that remains is for me to supply a few of the details. No, my mother didn't care about me and so didn't call the principal the next day. She was, however crazy about my little sister.
The facts are as follows: a black eye, a few other bruises in other parts, a scraped knee and hand, and two other boys joined the first one during the process to make sure he was doing a thorough job. Yes, they did get to read the poem I had been working on, because I didn't have the forethought to destroy it at the first sign of endangerment.
But that leaves us, where? To me staring at my sister. Actually, I would say that the powers above have saved her my fate. She is extremely pretty, always has been and the scenes I have been describing to you happened five years ago. Little has changed. She is just as pretty and was voted homecoming queen by her Senior High School class. Yes, I am just as ugly and am still a virgin. Mary has had many boyfriends, been fucked many times and is something of an epicurean on the subject.
Her first boyfriend, Mark was a lollapalooza. He was six foot three, had biceps like a moose and a ten incher down there. I know, because I saw it.
I was something of a voyeur the days I was still living at home and let me describe the incident that was probably little Mary's first encounter, although she seemed like such a pro at it. You might say that it was like a duck and water, as the old expression goes. And, I wouldn't ever dare refer to her as "little Mary" after this momentous event in her life.
They were outside, sitting on Mark's shiny Blue Trans Am. I had rode my bike around town and seen him polishing it, day and night. It was a beaut and Mary was lucky to be seen driving around with him in it.
They were talking, saying I do not know what. Probably, some school gossip that would be of no interest to me, anyway. If someone said those things straight into my face, I wouldn't care. For all I know, they could've been talking about me.
Anyway, that's not the important part. Mark leaned over to kiss my sister, and embraced her in a passionate way that she readily acquiesced to and was proof that they had been doing this before. Upstairs, looking out my bedroom window, my palms sweated with anticipation of what was about to happen, although I was really, absolutely sure.
Mary bent slowly backwards until she was fully against the hood of the car. Her skirt lifted up a bit in the process, and she reached to pull it down. It was too late, in spite of the action and I caught tufts of her pussy hair sprouting through the sides of her soft, cottony panties. I was almost positive that Mark had, also and chances were that it was exciting him thrice as much as it did me.
They kissed more, Mark's deep, thick, red probing tongue making clockwise rotations down inside, exploring Mary's throat, bicuspids and sensuous, full lips. I wished that it could somehow be myself, damned if it was my sister and reached down to grab hold of my dork to get some instant relief if it appeared that it would be needed.
Down and around he went, circling first from deep inside her wet, hot oral cavity, down the sides of her neck, to approaching her deft little breasts.
"I want you," I thought I heard him murmur softly to her.
"Mmmmmm," she sighed, although she tried to brush away his hand every time he nurtured her erogenous zones.
After all, everyone was looking. Kids across the street who had been playing baseball dropped their bats and gloves to strain their necks and watch in such a way that it would look to others, they thought that they were not, in fact looking at what was happening. We were a very strict, hard right, conservative Republican neighborhood, and if any of the old folks ever saw, or caught wind of what was happening, one could be sure that the young couple would end up in rotting in the jails of Lower Slobbovia, or breaking rocks in the hot Lower Slobbovia sun.
I, for my part wished that they would continue and at the same time, knew that they felt the same way and would. There was this little cave, a hiding place in a wooded area where we used to play as kids and I thought that perhaps, she might suggest there.
I rushed up and dashed out the back door when they quit their act and tried to beat them to it. Out in the distance, I could hear the roar and screech of the Trans Am as it rounded the corners of the blocks. In this case, though I had an advantage, because the place was almost a direct line from the house, but because of the roads they had to follow a circuitous route to get all the way there.
In my mind, I thought with horrific intolerance at the slim, maybe great possibility that he would insist on taking her somewhere else, due to the advantage of his having a car and that I would miss out on everything. I had barely made it up the hill that marked the beginning of the woods, though when I heard the sound of the car pulling to a halt.
I ran along the path and down a long, steep hill. I heard car doors slam. I stopped for a second to get my bearings and tried to make as little noise as possible. I caught sight of a few rocks and a barren tree that were a sort of landmark, that we would hide behind and build walls near, the remnants of which were still in place. I quickly brushed through a bunch of thorn bushes, pain and noise be damned as I could hear a soft giggle and harsh, athletic laugh coming from a ways.
I saw the cave, and it was closed up. I brushed my hand across it to make sure, and tried quickly to plot a further course of action. Without delay, I scooted up a nearby tree and hoped for the best.
"Oooh baby, this is it."
"Heeee-heeeee-heeee"
The perversity of it all, the thrill made me sick to my stomach and I couldn't wait for them to get on with it. I leaned for a better view and saw them making their way down the same hill I had.
"I love you."
"Oh, really? Heeee-heeeee-heeeee."
Yes, my sister had such a distinctive laugh. It helped elevate the volume of the talk so that I could hear each and every word. For the first time in my life, I was thankful for it, whereas before I had been mortified at the effervescent cackle.
"This is my first time."
I knew this to be a fact, being her brother, but Mark apparently didn't believe.
"C'mon, you're joshin."
"No."
"Really?"
"No foolin', true love."
He looked at her in a boyish gaze, trying to divine something between her baby blues. It was easy with her, at least for me. I wondered if he would find it the same way, especially in light of the hurtful, pained expression that my sister had on her face.
"Oh, yeah?" he said in a smart, although trying to be sensitive way.
"Please be gentle."
There it was, the expression that I had read in all the magazines and now it was my sister uttering it. Perhaps she had stolen one of them and copped the line. I resolved to lock up my belongings tighter and braced myself for the revelation that perhaps my sister knew just as much about my seemingly until now private life as I did about hers.
"Well, where's this terrific hiding place that I've been hearing about, better than going to the safety of my place?"
"We're almost there. John and I used to play around here as kids."
"You mean, your dork of a brother?"
I stopped masturbating for a moment and thought of pissing on his head. Instead, I reasoned that it would be better to just make sure that he was in the school when I planned to place a bomb, which was coming up before the summer vacation this year.
"That's not nice."
"I'm sorry. What's the matter with him, anyway?"
"He just has trouble socially adjusting. He has a near genius I.Q., you know. People like that always have trouble."
What did she mean, near genius?
"Oh, really ..."
And the really was drawn out really long, like a country hick, a bumpkin, who had no understanding of the fact, the concept, what it meant, and was merely pretending to be fascinated by the subject for one purpose and one purpose alone ... seducing my sister.
"... I didn't know that."
You're damn right you didn't, buddy. Only those of us more fortunate ones will ever know what it feels like. There was conceivably no reason for my hating Mark as of yet, but the fact remained that he was a hick and a jock, subscribed to the politics of both groups (although admittedly unknowingly, which puts him even more into the doghouse of things, performing at the snap of fingers like a trained seal), and such a status amounted to a big, fat chicken egg in my book (zero).
"Yes, he is," she answered and laughed.
My own sister!
"What about you?"
"I have the good looks in my family," she laughingly challenged him back, sparkles glowing in her eyes.
I was about to throw up. My own sister! This phrased turned over and over in my mind. My own sister! My own sister! My own sister! My own sister! My own sister! My own sister! My own sister! Watching them was going to be like torture.
Not that my sister was not intelligent, mind you and I couldn't stand to sit there in this tree, holding my penis in my right hand and listen to her babble in baby talk. Perhaps I should piss on the both of them. At the very least, come when they came and shoot my load in their general direction.
"Here we are."
"Goody, Goody."
"Worth the wait?"
"You're always worth the wait," and he kissed her, smack on the cheek. She smiled in repose of it all.
This was the first decent thing I had seen him do to her all day, though I was beyond that stage. I ached for something more to happen, and thought I would burst.
He brushed the ground and the both of them sat down. She smiled, he smiled. This was going to be just grand!
She reached over and grabbed his chin, a change for the moment! His ever probing tongue ran deep into her, willfully accepting the gesture, the language of one lover to another. A liberated expression, a producer of dopamine in the brain, a release.
Some people might think that I have a twisted mind. After all, the girl's my sister. The only decent thing to do would be to swing from a vine on this tree, into them, kick Mark in the face and on the back swing pick my sister up into the grasp of both my arms and carry her away to safety where she will never, never again be assaulted by this uncouth brute. Didn't I admit I hated him! Wasn't this excuse enough? Family love? At least firsties?
Lo, this was not the issue careening inside my brain. Maybe I was sick. Yes, this might be true. But, even this was not the issue. The simple fact was that my own politics were liberal, almost bordering on activist. Rationalizing, one might say that they were brought about by fearful necessity or solipsism, but that didn't matter. I had to reconcile myself with these beliefs once I had committed, and who was I to be over protective to my sister? If she wanted to be sexually liberated, she was in her god-given right to be so feminist oriented. Blasted be those who accept hypocrisy!
My views might make sense to an elite few of you. Congratulations, I say! My warmest appreciation. And, if you bear with me, I'll get back to what's happening between my sister and Mark. But first, I feel a deep necessity to explicate myself and you are what you might say, a captive audience. Unless I am convinced, fully, that you have in a certain means at least tried to understand my inner nature, then I will turn the rest of this pornographic novelette (cheap) into an laying down of my views on the metaphysical interpretations of German Literature from the nineteen twenties and how those theories uphold today.
Wouldn't that be boring? From there, perhaps we could discuss reflexive realism in literature. Maybe some of the more intellectual of you might cowtow to such principles and essayistic didacticisms, but my sole purpose is to relate sex and I would be turning to such subjects, which admittedly interest me as a form of punishment to you. If I saw you enjoying yourself (and believe me, I have eyes and ears!), I would make it so that it would be unbearable.
Now that the air has been cleared, back to the business at hand. My problems lies not within the fact that I'm not normal (Boy, am I serving a bundle in shrink bills!), but that as my sister said,. I have trouble socially adjusting.
Not to say that I can't relate things in other forms, such as writing, photography, painting, et al, which in some I am immensely talented. But, come a crowd of real people, and I retreat into my shell. I do not want you to feel sorry for myself! That is not the purpose of this diatribe! Not at all!
I just want to say, that being that I am so intelligent, it is difficult to relate as a normal being. In addition, I refuse publicly to place myself above others and so invite a challenge. That is reserved for the pages of journals such as the one you are reading.
I love life! Is that such a crime? Shoot me if it is. If not, then enjoin me. Otherwise, I shall be forced to spend my time locked in study, a refuge for my failure to establish normal relationships. The grownups, they don't understand. They think it's normal for me to have problems at my age. But, to my degree it's not! What can I do? I can relate to adults, but that's not the issue. The fact remains that few have been placed in the perspective, termed "gifted" as it might he that I'm in and so few resources are there to deal with it.
Could be that I'm complaining too much. I wouldn't blame you if you slapped me as one of those kids on the playground has done many a time, starting when I was somewhere in the neighborhood of three years old.
But enough of this! Shameful for a genius! Study is to be my sole disparage, and that is that. I needn't concern you with such trite, as why you're reading this is to catch a little hot, steamy sex.
I don't blame you. That's what I'm doing up in this tree. Right now, Mark and my sister are taking each other's clothes off and wrapping them around the branches of nearby trees so that they don't get dirty. One would say that the scene had all the appearances of a nudist colony. Too bad, I had forgotten my camera and could maybe have won some sort of amateur photo contest, witnessing the scene.
My sister had the same, bouncy, yet firm beautiful ass that I had seen an infinitum of times. I wondered if she would have the nerve to go through with anal intercourse if he suggested it, though I hardly doubted that he had fantasized about it as countless number of times that I had done.
He stroked it, as she came by, and his hand lightly cascaded from its top, to in-between the cheeks, to a flowing down her thighs and finally feeling the smooth ripples of her thighs. "This is life," he must have surely thought to himself, "This time, I have got it made."
She turned her head backwards in doing so likening to one of the ancient Greek statues of their goddesses. She looked down towards Mark's ten incher, which by this time was throbbing ever so hard.
"Baby," he said aloud, responding to her bright, wide smile. He postured himself up slightly, kissed those same, perfect cheeks and slapped one of them.
"Eeeek," she playfully shrieked.
"C'mere, baby."
Suddenly, he had developed an Italian accent out of nowhere. It was distasteful, to say the least about it.
"Mmmmmmmm."
You can guess where that one came from without me telling you.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"You're so beautiful."
"It's so big."
"There's no one else but you."
"Me also with you."
"You're the ginchiest."
"What?"
"Forget it."
"You wanna do it?"
"Of course, baby."
Chapter Two
Mark's deep, probing tongue thrusted in and out of the now glistening inside cleavage just awaiting between my sister's two ample mounds of flesh that bobbed, then rose to the joyous occasion. Pretty soon, her nipples stuck out like two ripe pears on their pointy ends being exposed fresh off the tree from being picked by a Midwestern farmer whose aid received under the Farm Bill that President Reagan signed helped him greatly.
Her arms were way above her head, and she appeared prostrated for the occasion. Mark loved her, or at least loved making love to her body, it appeared.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Suck, suck ..."
She placed her ringed hand on top of Mark's head and pressed his gaping, lubricated orality within reach of wherever she wanted by positioning it ever so lightly.
Mark clearly liked her taking some of the lead, and it directed him in which direction to go to give her the most pleasure possible. She, I'm sure was going to do the same when it came time for him.
Several times, I saw him try to reach down his mouth to start on her wet, slippery hole, but she wouldn't let him. She had plenty of excitement left with his playing with her joyous, swinging, oversexed tits.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Suck, suck ..."
The slurping noises got louder and louder and my sister seemed to be getting into the sounds her lover was making. At first they were human, but gradually they wavered to animal-like: Donkey, Giraffe and Elephant.
"Please, please, more ..."
She was obviously coming and Mark was adept enough to sense it. He sucked even harder, so that the tits went to and fro like carpet dust drawn inside a vacuum cleaner.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Suck, suck ..."
He gradually got the courage and she let him go to her hot, juicy, slippery box. It was waiting for him, with the little man at attention. He fingered her clit, and more pussy juiced gushed out. He stuck his right index finger in and out so that she would yelp for joy in rhythm with his movements.
This was real life. Everything that I had seen in magazines and in XXX movie theatres couldn't compare to this. He wanted her badly.
"Oooh, oooh, I'm coming ..."
Her body twist and turned and cavorted. This was a new sensation and one would hardly believe that she was a beginner. I had seen her practice by herself, though and she must have guessed right how it would feel like, because she seemed to be having no trouble.
All the movies that I had seen about virgin girls on cable television had been wrong. My sister was a true liberal, standing up to it in this way, and I was damn proud of her. I silently prayed that when my first time came, I would be as adept.
"Mark! Mark! Oh, Mark!"
"C'mon, baby ..." and he kissed her straight on the lips.
Then he took his tool in his hand, raised himself above her, she raised her legs in acceptance, and he entered her. Her eyes were closed, she was in ecstasy. He went back and forth, back and forth, reaching back with his thumb to massage her.
"You want to touch it, honey?" she said.
He nodded and she rolled over to her side so that he could slide in and out more easily and at the same time press his fingers around her mound, inner lips, outer lips, clit and everywhere else that would give her pleasure. He even bent his neck, straining to suck on her tits once more since she had loved it so.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Suck, suck ..."
He must have gone on and on in that fashion when I heard him grunt loudly and squint his eyes. My sister squirmed and beamed with pleasure as it was obvious that he had shot his load.
I shot mine at the same time and I watched as it slowly dripped from one branch to the next, the milky white substance coagulating as I had seen my blood do around a cut.
This had been my first time coming and I thought that it was my "first sexual experience" in a way, even though it hadn't been me performing. I had climaxed, although it was a shame that it hadn't been through someone else.
I thought about asking my sister out to help me lose my virginity. Maybe she could ask one of her friends, or if that failed, even volunteer for that act herself. We had played around with each other when we were very little, even at her prodding.
I was much too squeamish to ask her to do those things. I remember when she was thirteen and I fifteen. I caught her looking at a Playgirl and asked her what she saw in those things. She asked me to pull down my pants and she'd explain the whole thing to me.
Thinking it a joke, I complied. My member shone erect and she approached it, the same smile on her face as the one with Mark in the woods. She caressed it gently.
"Mmmmm, nice."
I stood there, frozen. I had not actually expected her to go through with doing such a thing.
"Pretty big for a guy who's only your age, mmmmmm."
"Who else have you looked at?" I didn't believe her.
"That's for me to know ..."
Looking back, it seemed that she was somehow always experienced. Perhaps she had had several guys before Mark.
Mark! I almost forgot about him and her doing it in the woods.
There was some blood involved. I saw it clearly, and tears welled up inside Mary's eyes. I felt sorry for her at first, but then could see that they were meant as tears of joy, not of sorrow.
"Oh, Mark."
"Oh, Mary."
"I'm glad it was you."
"Me, too."
"It was your first time, also?"
He nodded affirmatively, "Don't tell anyone in school. They'll laugh. I was saving myself for-someone special."
"Poor baby-"
She was clearly buying it, hook, line, and also sinker. Within less than a month, I was only too sure that my sister would have the reputation as the town whore.
"Please ... I love you."
"I love you."
"Suck, suck ..."
They kissed and held each other tight for what to them must have seemed like an eternity, and collapsed asleep into each other's arms. I waited for close to an hour for them to get up. I was deathly scared that someone would discover them, then look up and see me:
"What you doin' up there, boy?"
"Nothin'."
"You spyin' on these, here people?"
"Nope."
"You lyin' to me, boy?"
"Nope."
"Come down from there, cause I gonna give you a whoopin'."
"Fuck you."
I doubt that I would have the courage to say something like that. It was so unlike me. I would've probably have come down, or stayed up there until the guy below brought the whole town, all without their clothes so they could look up and laugh at me.
But, luckily I was spared such a ghastly fate, for reasons unknown to me. Maybe when I truthfully, fully lose my mind, I shall be eternally haunted by such Kafkaesque, paranoid visions.
I slithered down from my hiding place and walked slowly around them. My sister's gaping hole was fully visible, so that I could study it for a moment. We had never gone all the way together, back in those years, so this opportunity was a rare one.
It was closed, although it looked red and a little sore. There was a tiny trickle of blood, which had dried and a thin, congealed line could be traced down her leg.
I next looked at her tits, which still seemed kind of hard. On closer inspection, her nipples had swelled to a length of about three times what they normally would be.
Mark's dong was soft and uninteresting. I pictured how it had looked going in and out of my sister (I have very good eyesight) and that got me hard again. I wished that I would've been in his place and wondered if I would have the nerve to pop the question to my sister. Maybe she, or one of her friends could oblige me even as soon as tonight.
Back to when we were young. Ooops! I almost forgot to finish that little escapade. I'm so sorry.
She caressed me, her hand going from the base and then to the tip, squeezing it in-between her first finger and the tip. Her smile got more intense as she went to the base again and practically choked it.
"This is what you would call a hand job, I guess," she kidded.
"Unnnnnnh," I gasped in pleasure.
"I love you, brother."
"I love you, sis."
"Suck, suck ..."
"Harder, harder."
She did her best and come to think of it, she must have gotten her experience somewhere. I didn't come however, because good ol' mom, who always ruins things, came running up the stairs to tell us to do some chore or somethin' and I scrambled to get my pants on.
But here I was, in the woods, looking at them like they were barnyard animals. I had seen them do it in the Lower Slobbovia Zoo and it hadn't seemed much different. All the animals took proper time for foreplay, just as Mark and Mary had done.
Their grip around each other's bodies was still tight, even though they were obviously asleep. I wondered how they could've just "fallen" asleep, since there had been so much activity. Possibly, the experience had just been "that great." Woweeeee!
Every once in a while, my scientifically inclined mind observed that one of them would become a bit restless and shift one of their legs, which were intertwined with each other. Fearing that I would be discovered during one of these episodes, I walked out, careful to maintain my surreptitiousness as I creeped about and swung branches out of my way.
I was thinking of getting my camera and coming back, but that I decided would be stupid and blow and otherwise perfect undercover job performed by a master spy. It might've been nice to see them wake up, I suppositioned, but began to be optimistic about opportunities like the one between the two of them arriving in the future for me.
I sung crazy tunes as I hopped along the direct line that had brought me in this direction before and slapped Mark's car, thinking that it might in some way bring along a stroke of good luck with it. I almost definitely could assume that Mark's statement to my sister had been a tall tale, that he was an experienced fucker, an atypical sexual athlete, and that he had fucked many hot and wild babes in the Trans Am.
Mom was cooking when I passed through the front door and to tell the truth, I was just going upstairs to masturbate again when she caught me first:
"Well, where have you been?"
"Around."
"Around, doing what?"
"Nothing."
"You'll have to give me more of an answer than that, young man."
"What's the problem?"
"Don't talk to your mother like that!"
I was an ordinary scene in middle America, and I loathed it. But, being underaged, and a misunderstood genius, like most other things, I was obliged to go through with it. Any other action would have been deemed misanthropy by those around me.
"Leave me the fuck alone," I answered extremely coolly to her. That one brought about a facial expression that can only be summed up on paper, in writing, as "???????."
I, of course answered with my own "???????" This sort of helped to nullify things and I guess I got off sort of easy. This was par for the course, and the reason I guess why it was is explained by what I saw one night: My mother weeping.
I stared at her from outside the bathroom, much the same as I would do in future years for spying on Mary and Mark. I couldn't figure it out why, until she called up my father on the phone and I picked up the extension to listen in unbeknownst to her.
"George, George," she began.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Who do you think it is?"
"I don't know."
"Your wife, stupid."
"Oh."
"Well, don't sound so enthusiastic about hearing from me."
"I'm not."
"It figures."
"So, what'd you call me and interrupt me for, in the middle of my doing something? Is it that important?"
"Only about your son."
"Well, out with it."
"Don't rush me."
"Okay."
"He just doesn't understand when I tell him to do something. I know the teachers said that he was a genius, or something like that, but ... I don't know."
"Maybe you can offer me some sort of enlightenment."
"He's a space cadet. I think he's doing drugs or something. I found a gun in his room. Perhaps, he even wants to kill someone or commit suicide."
First person note: I was pretty pissed off at the way my mother had called me a "genius, or something like that" and the gun in question was a b-b pistol that I had managed to connive one of the neighborhoods into letting me borrow, with the purpose of shooting targets that I would draw up and pin to trees.
"I don't know," my father answered.
"Come home, then."
"I have work to do."
"I can't."
"Your son's life is at stake."
"I hardly believe that and anyway, as he's eighteen now, he has to decide things for himself."
I applauded my father's liberality on the subject. There were few ways in which I would cowtow to emulate him, and this exception was one of the few. When I was four, we had had many enjoyable, lengthy discussions about politics in the living room. After a year or so, my armada of facts so overwhelmed him that he usually ended up wavering and accepting what point I was proving. It got so bad that I could make things up, and by sheer logic have him want to alter his preconceived notions.
These were the good times, when I was that young, without a care in the world. For ordinary people, that usually lasts until their early twenties. For me, the burden was assumed at age six. I felt the seriousness, the gravity and people depending on me for solutions. When I was seven, the federal government tried to whisk me away for some experimental program, but my parents managed to get an injunction to prevent them from doing so.
Perhaps things wouldn't have been so bad. There would've been other types there like me, a chance to socialize. This was a sorely needed skill for me to develop, and still is. I would've been fed decently and been doing my patriotic duty. The only problems that might have arisen would be if they had asked for advice on military weaponry and tactics which I would have refused, and rightfully so.
But, back to what's happening at the moment. My mother's still frantic and my father's maintaining his cool. This is not my idea of a good time. Strangely enough, I could intonate some sort of pleasure from the sound of my father's voice. Maybe mommy had caught him just after he finished screwing his secretary, or something. That was another thing that I had been trying, time and time again to get proof of and blow the lid on top off of.
Who cared? I certainly didn't. It was my sister and mother that I was worried about. Once when he brought her for dinner, I could've swore that when he walked her out to the car, he stopped to feel up her breasts. And, still, there was the "unexplained, missing weekend" whereby he had disappeared when Mom went to visit her mother in Europe.
These and other actions may have been necessitated by things going wrong between the two of them, but I doubted that that solitary truth would ease the pain once things came out into the open. My plan was always to catch the two of them in the act and photograph it, holding the negatives as blackmail and so, forcing him to give it up.
With this in mind, I even sneaked into his office, when I passed by at night and saw the light on. The janitor came out of a closet, being the only one there and almost scared the shit out of me. Being senile, he somehow missed seeing me at first and I hid behind a desk until he went into another room, when I left. I quickly slid down the exterior wall of the building in the process, twisting an ankle as a result and being barely able to walk for the month that was following.
"Please."
"It can wait."
"I don't have control over the two of them anymore."
"That's a separate issue."
My father was a college English professor, which reasoned why he was so cool, calm and intellectual always. He would always be the life of parties, even though he wasn't a quarter as wild as a lot of his associates. Another factor, was that he managed this while consuming the most alcohol of anyone around.
I hated the academic lifestyle and vowed with a passion that when I became independent legally, I would disavow it publicly. My main objection was that they prevented the real "doers" of the world from achieving things through the misused, subjective use of their rhetoric. Not that they held any real powers, just that in most cases it was during the formative years when the most damage could occur.
"Will you stop doing that?"
My mother, albeit a college graduate, subscribed to the same notions that I had regarding education and those associated with it. Why she had married someone with a totally different outlook that in most cases would have produced wild, powerful outbursts was lost on me.
"All right. I'll be there in an hour."
The discussion that ensued, when he arrived, I will sum up for you here. The upshot, or gist of it was that my father believed that since I was gifted, the family must make certain sacrifices and allowances on my behalf. My mother, on the other hand was polarized to the effect that she saw that there could be no discrimination in how they taught the children for effectively either one of them.
This was all nice and good, and I felt myself tugged in-between how both of them felt. They went on to make valid points, which are not worth describing due to their relative unimportance and excruciating boredom.
The thing was, issues like this never cropped up like this about my sister. I was set apart, almost like a pariah. But, through instances like these, I did come to learn that I indeed had a gift and that my duty should be to use it for the good of making. I did go to one "GENIUS SEMINAR", and several people that I met there got fed up with the "square world" and used their powers on the forces of evil.
In my formative stage, I designed a costume out of silk white sheets that I ordered from the back of an adult magazine for. Receiving them, I was amazed at the smoothness and fantasized people fucking on them. After studying these intensively, I set about my original purpose, designing them into a super hero costume. I stole thread and all the other necessary supplies from my mother's sewing kit and patches from my sister. These furtive methods were necessary, as I was fashioning a "secret identity."
My first venture with my new found avocation was to spy into neighbor's bedroom windows and make sure that everything was all right. If I couldn't tell from a distance, a closer inspection was necessary.
Chapter Three
Mrs. Hormela was the first to witness the amazing powers of Super Creature With A Dong To Match. My finished costume consisted of the sheet sewed tight into a type of almost spandex body suit, a black mask that you can reference by the one the lone ranger used to wear, red boots that I wore over the bottom of my uniform like Superman and a utility belt, fashioned after the one that Batman has.
Mrs. Hormela, or the Hot to Trot Divorcee, as we liked to call her because of her shapely, delicately huge mounds that swayed to and fro around when she moved and got hard in the cold weather was probably the first female that I ever fell in love with. When my mother would invite me into the kitchen to have hot chocolate and the Hot to Trot Divorcee was there, even back then I couldn't keep my eyes off of her beautiful, not big enough to be deemed freakish chiefly because of their well formed definition and response to sensation pair of tits.
After adopting my secret identity, I suddenly gained courage that I had never had as myself. I spied into the Hot to Trot Divorcee's window and one late evening, actually saw her masturbating herself. She was looking into a mirror at the time, inspecting her body that looked like it was in its mid twenties, but was probably at least ten years younger.
With all her clothes off, she started by sucking the tips of her fingers and then stroking them around the tips of her nipples. They quickly perked up to the touch and the tips looked like the taunt ends of a strip of wire. She was lucky in that if she reached, she could stretch the whole of her pair into her mouth and she did so, tracing some design and eliciting intimate pleasure that was known only to her. I was in voyeur's heaven.
The Hot to Trot Divorcee next wet her right first finger in and stuck it deep inside her pussy. This, I interpreted was my cue and changed.
I sneaked around the bushes of Mrs. Hormela's house until I was right under her bedroom window. I looked in, just to make sure I had seen right through my telescope. Sure enough, and now she was strong at it, lying on her bed now and moving her finger in and out, tugging at her vulvae and moaning in pleasure.
I went to the back door and jimmied the lock silently with some tools that I had invented myself. Hearing no footsteps and judging that no one else was probably inside the house, I proceeded.
I crept about silently, aided by the softness of her carpet. When I reached the front of her room, she was still intensely into herself and not about to stop.
"Super Creature With A Dong To Match is here!" I shouted, half scaring her out of her wits at the moment.
Usually, in such a moment the female would run to cover her body in the presence of such an obvious lunatic case. Having nothing to hide, though being as she had a perfect form, this was not what happened.
Instead, she stood up. That in response to my shouting. Then, she looked at me queerly, as an animal in a zoo might, bobbing her head to one side in the process. Her tits jiggled somewhat with this.
The Hot to Trot Divorcee gave me the once over, all right and what balls! I was an ever loving virgin, still.
"Come out of there, John."
"How did you know?"
"Oh, I have ways."
"I'm sorry."
"You needn't be."
"It's just that I was so, well, you know, curious."
"I understand."
"Will you tell my parents about this incident here?"
"I don't think so."
"Thank you."
"No need to be so polite."
"I apologize again. I guess I'll be going now, then."
"Are you in a rush?"
"Why no, Mrs. Hot to ... errr, I mean ... a ..."
"I know what they call me, the Hot to Trot Divorcee, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said, ashamed.
"Why, you're blushing."
It was true.
"Have you ever seen a naked women's body before?"
"Only my sister's."
"Do you think I'm ... sexy?"
"Oh, very much ... indeed ... Mrs. ... Hormela."
"John?"
"Yes?"
"Call me Nancy."
"Okay, Nancy."
"Come here."
"Okay." I went over to where she was standing on the side of the bed and stopped in front of her.
"Put your hands on my breasts ... that's right ... good ... now move one
around ... now the other ... good ... do it even ... and then break up the pattern ... good."
I was deathly sweating at this point and my dick felt like it would almost burst through the fabric of my pants any second. "What a turn on, to give her so much pleasure, she is clearly being satisfied." I thought.
"Mmmmmm," she murmured, "how would you like it if I gave you lessons on how to be a good lover, John?"
I could hardly answer and she must've seen that I was in pain.
"Oh, forgive me," she laughed.
She grabbed my pants by inserting her hands between the waistline and my skin, smiling straight at me.
"Come on ..." and she led me to a chair at another end of the room. First, she unfastened the pair and let them drop. She then lowered my drawers and fingered my by now highly-expanded-organ.
"Mmmmmm ... nice."
"Thank you."
"My pleasure."
"No problem."
"It was nice all the same."
She then as you can guess, pressed her lips fully onto the staff and guided me in, reaching almost as far as the tip and playing around with the balls all the same time. I had only before created this scene in my mind, as had the rest of the neighborhood boys, and here I was really experiencing it.
"Super Creature With A Dong To Match is here," I kept on thinking for some reason or another. It went over and over again, playing like a broken record in my brain.
"MMMMM," she slurped.
"UNNNNNNNNH ..." I gasped.
Then it happened. I came. Straight into her mouth. I was almost ashamed, but like a pro, she swallowed each and every drop of it. A feeling of release overcame everything else and I experienced my first orgasm. I placed my hand on her head, squeezing gingerly.
"Satisfied?"
I collapsed onto the bed with a feeling of sustenance.
"Lesson one," she said.
"Time to go now."
I could scarcely believe that she had wanted me to leave. Sadly, I donned my coat and left her like that, unsure whether or not I had truly satisfied her.
Unfortunately, this was the only lesson that I would ever get from the Hot to Trot Divorcee. I consider myself lucky to get such an introduction, notwithstanding my encounters with my sister, which I also take a certain pride in having had over others.
We wrote letters to each other:
June 4, Dear John,
It's so lonely without you. Sorry we couldn't continue our lessons together. It's all my fault. I had to accept this dumb job. We could've been so happy together.
All my love,
Nancy
My response:
June 10, Dear Hot to Trot,
Too bad. I'm sure you have found some other stud with big, silver balls, though. When you rape some other underage kid, think of me. I'll be waiting for you when you go to jail for when you get out.
Love,
John
(Only kidding)
I was fairly sure from the times when I was really young and had heard her talk in the kitchen with my mother that she had a very good sense of humor.
We on occasion called each other and had phone sex, though I was thoroughly convinced that by this time she must've found other lovers in her community.
Our conversations went like this:
"Hello?"
"Super Creature With A Dong To Match here wanting your horny body."
"Oh, it's you." Almost like my father.
"Hot to Trot?"
"Hee-hee."
"I'm already sucking the sweat out of your filthy panties. Feel my gorging in and out tongue?"
"MMMMMMM ... sure do ... play with my breasts."
"Okay."
"You're turning me on."
"I mean to."
"Please, eat out my pussy with your skilled tongue ... now!"
"I'm in now, playing around with your clit by my fuck-fingers and I can feel you getting wet ... now I'm slurping up your juices."
"You're the best there ever was ... now, I'm going to give you a super blowjob and prove I'm an expert."
"A fact which I never get tired of you demonstrating."
"I'm trying to separate your cock into two with sheer oral pressure from my tongue ... ooooooh!"
"KEEP GOING, BABY!!!"
"I'm tracing around the outside like it was a candy cane, going up ... down up ... down and around."
"YOU'RE THE BEST, YOU'RE THE BEST, YOU'RE THE BEST!!!!"
"Mother fucker," she said in a squeamish, girlish tone.
"I love you ... ah ... ah ... ah." I had proven that it was indeed possible to come over the phone.
"I'm entering you."
"From behind!"
"Okay, straight up from the asshole direction, U-Turn to pleasure!"
"My hero ... I can feel your hot, throbbing, spindly organ coming up inside of you and little drops of cum ebbing out of it. Yes, that's how sensitive my little pussy is. You love my pussy, don't you?"
"Yes, I love it ... ahhhhh."
"Ride me like a cowboy, ride, ride, ride me now!"
"I am, I am!"
"Harder, harder!"
"Who loves you, babe?"
"Me, me!"
"Finger my clit ..."
"I can feel it."
"Love me."
"I do."
"Feel me."
"I am."
"Suck me."
"I'm sucking."
"Smell me."
"I'M COMING!!!!"
"OH, GAWD!!!!!!"
"AHHHHH ..."
"AHHHHHH ..."
And so we would fictionally fall into each other's arms. I missed her and had anxiety attacks that somehow I would never meet another like her. This was to be proven wrong, of course. Like, there was the time that I seduced the model from BEAVER-LAND MAGAZINE.
I was horny one day and having nothing to do, stole the latest issue of BEAVERLAND MAGAZINE from my corner candy store combination tobacco store combination hangout. The old man was turning his back, cleaning the counter behind him when I stuck the freakin' thing up my shirt.
Maybe he would've been hurt had he known and I admit that it was a terrible thing. Possibly, he might have been arrested. When you're young, hot and horny, though you'll resort to anything to get by.
I waited until I got home and hid out underneath some bushes in the side yard. What do you think I looked at first? The condom ads? Nahhhh, the centerfold, like any good, old All-American super boy.
There she was ... Nadine.
I went with my eyes greedily over every square inch of her body. "Why wasn't I in that photo with her," I wondered. Almost certainly afterwards the photographer and everyone around balled her, so why not me? There were her ogling set of luscious, lascivious, stimulating, pink-white breasts. Down to her oozing cunt which was pink-black and dripping with from moisture.
It almost said, "Come and get me, big boy. I'm here."
I would if I could. In the pages around the spread, she held her lips, both of them open wide to invite everyone. Not any exclusive pussy, equal opportunity.
In one of them, she stuck her thumb into it. Another, the same thing for her asshole. Her tits stood upright always, firm in rain, sleet, or snow.
As I went into my room, shutting the thing because it was making me too frustrated, I formulated a plan. Nothing could stop me, I knew, even before it had been formulated and set up statistically on my IBM PC. This was an often overlooked step.
But, it went like this. Informationally, I gathered the address of the publisher from the inside front cover. In Jersey City, not too far away. I WANTED TO FUCK A FUCKIN' PORN STAR AND WAS GOING TO HAVE MY WAY, EVERYONE ELSE BE FUCKIN' DAMNED!!
On the bus, I straightened my tie. I had stolen the suit and portfolio from my father, who was a publisher of Art books. My glasses, which I didn't really need kept slipping off the top of my head.
I took a taxi to the building, wanting to maintain the image and stepped out looking like a million bucks. "This would surely work," I thought and I had practiced for hours to get everything straight.
"Yes, sir ... May we help you?" the guys at the front desk said.
I couldn't see who "you" would be referring to, but answered anyway. "I am a photographer, and I hear that you would like some beau art pictures for your magazine, no?" I could tell that my phony Italian accent was impressing the hell out of him.
He glanced up from his BEAVERLAND MAGAZINE and grinned. "Well, maybe they do take liberties with the benefits that they give around here. I'm gonna get my share." I thought over silently to myself.
"All right, I'll call the editor. But, first may I see the pictures?" I showed him a few and he scowled, seeing that they weren't really pornographic and called the editor to see me, anyhow.
The editor turned out to be a woman. Not very sexy. Sort of like one of those ones that you see on Championship wrestling with acne. I supposed some would've liked her, though. Certainly, definitely not me.
"May I see the pictures?"
"Of course, my dear."
"Very interesting."
"I am a true artiste."
"I can see, Mr. ..."
"Ahh, forgive me. I have been so rude. Senor Vallonio, from Rome. I made the journey because I was so entranced with your magazine and its high standards. Erotica of the masters, I would qualify it as."
She gave me this weird, strange look and for a second I thought that she could see through the whole thing. This was probably not the case, as I was wearing dark sunglasses and had applied a bit of makeup to make me look older. A Fellini videotape had supplied the necessary vocabulary and speech patterns.
"Well, I think we can work together."
Her soothing, reassuring tone was too startling and I almost didn't believe it.
"Choose a model from one of our past books and we'll set up a date."
"Gratzi, senora."
Nadine was available and she agreed to meet me near a lake by my house. She stripped quite readily and I set up the camera on a tripod with timer.
"Nadine, honey ... how would you like to be photographed with a man?" There was no use to continue using my pseudo-Italian identity at this point, I figured.
"Oh, I've done that before and I love it, I assure you."
"I will be the man."
"Groovy."
"And we will do it each and every which way and then some."
"Fan' fuckin' 'tastic!"
"I thought you would see things in that point of view."
"You don't need to worry about birth control, by the way, because I'm on the pill. I don't need to have a baby, by any means." And she laughed like it was funny.
"Suck my cock, girl."
"Mmmmm, yummmy. Stick your finger up my pussy, it'll come out interesting. You'll see. Do it. Ahhhh ..."
"You're pussy is so smooth."
"You're dick is so big."
"Love me."
"I do."
"Are you sure."
"Anyone with a ten incher I love." And she took the thing in-between those big breasts of hers and sucked the tip.
"I love any woman with large, D-cup sizes, honey bun."
"We both like things big, then."
"So we do."
"Love me."
"I do."
Meanwhile, the camera was snapping away at both of us.
"Oh, you're so beautiful."
"And you so handsome."
"Tell me more."
"You have big, luscious tits."
"More."
"Your cunt is unique."
"More."
"Your face is of a goddess."
"More."
"You're photogenic."
"More."
"I'm entering you."
"More."
"You're intelligent."
"More."
"I fell in love with you from your June pictorial."
"More."
"I'm nibbling on your nipples."
"More."
"BEAVERLAND MAGAZINE AND YOU ARE BOTH THE GREATEST"
"MORE."
"I'M COMING INSIDE YOU, DARLING!!!"
"AHHHHHHH ..."
Chapter Four
Nadine and I woke up on the grass to find out that the camera had been stolen. I would've considered it no great loss, except that it was my parent's. The fuck, certainly had been worth more than that.
"What about the shooting?" she asked.
"The sex is the most important thing." I answered.
"More," she responded and we repeated the whole scene over again, laughing hysterically at the point when we fell asleep and the camera was stolen. I must've come around a dozen times in that day and Nadine even more. We went into the woods, did a few drugs, did a "quickie" and I drove her home. We vowed to meet again, sometime in the near future.
At home, Mary greeted me. She had seen her, she commented and thought that I had good taste. She asked if she was a good lay and I retorted by a counterpoint to the effect wanting to know if she thought so.
"Yeah," she said, enthusiastically.
"Love me?"
"I do, you can be everlasting sure of that, I swear."
"I believe you."
"She had nice tits."
"I tasted them and so did she."
"Did you come between them?"
"Yeah."
"I love it when Mark does that to me and rubs his hot, sticky cum deep inside the depths of my cleavage."
"Hey! Where'd you learn to talk in that manner?"
"What does it matter."
"I suppose not."
"Wanna fuck?"
"Huh?"
"Wanna fuck?"
"Sorta blatant."
"So what."
"No."
"C'mon."
"No."
"Chicken."
"No."
"I bet I give better blowjobs than that girl did."
"I'm gonna was your filthy mouth out with soap, girl."
"Don't talk to me like that."
"It's a free country."
"Oh, you're just a baby."
"Am not. I got a ten incher."
"That doesn't make you a man."
"Does so. I can come a dozen times in a single sexual outing. (* Unbalanced double quote marks in above paragraph.)
She stripped open her shirt and there she stood, braless. Her crucifix hung beneath them and the cord through her cleavage.
"Mary, the neighbors!" I gasped.
"If they want a piece of the action, let them come and grab a piece. Everyone's welcome in my book."
I went up to cover her body with my front and ushered her inside, my mother too busy cooking too notice.
"Brat!" I scolded her.
"Fuck you."
I was trying to button her back up, but not succeeding due to our movement. We got in the door and I rushed back to slam it shut. "There." I cautioned her.
"Fuddy-duddy."
"Don't say that about me."
"You deserve it."
"No I don't."
"There you go, whining. And you have the gall to call me a baby."
"I stick by what I said."
"I stick by what I said." I mimicked her adolescent tone, even though I sometimes talked in one myself.
She started crying. I went over to embraced her and kissed her shoulder. I looked down and caressed her breasts, softly. It seemed a natural, intimate brotherly-sister sort of love and she made a grab at my cock, pulling back and forth through my pants.
"Maybe we should take it easy."
"No. We both want to," she insisted.
"All right."
She lied down on the bed and I began to slurp around. My main purpose at first was just to gross her out, and that perhaps she would give up on the idea. Instead, it had the effect of making her laugh.
"Tee-hee."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Kiss-kiss." We were deep throating each other at this point. She smelled nice, I must admit and probably was wearing the perfume that Dad had given her that Christmas. This incident had probably been planned since this morning and she would've been upset, had it not been able to go off.
I kissed her deeper and more intense, respecting her feelings and thinking that maybe I might've been wrong all along. If we both seemed to be enjoying it, what could be wrong? "Stop being conservative," I reasoned.
We must've been like that for an hour, deep throating each other and her pointy tits pressed hard against my sweaty chest. It seemed natural again and a relief to both of us when I began to knead them.
I looked down at her beautiful, shiny, smiling face. It was like I was a baker in a pizzeria and loved my craft. Only now, this was my sister beneath me. Her tits were smooth to the touch, much more so than even Nadine. I watched not with amazement as her nipples grew a couple of inches, as I had seen them do so before when she was fucking Mark.
"Mmmmmm," she said.
"Love me?"
"Of course, darling."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Suck, suck."
She had grabbed hold of my balls through my pants, which were still on and my underwear. She gently massaged them both, like some rhythmic sort of pendulum. When I reached a particular tender part of her anatomy she would grab hold, squeezing with her might.
"Love me?"
"Of course, darling."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Suck, suck."
We were one and the same person, blood of each other's blood, flesh of flesh. We each new in advance what spots would please each other and that this would be our little secret. There was no chance of our ever breaking up. We had eternity to learn the secrets of each other's zones.
"Love me?"
"Of course, darling."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Suck, suck."
I thought back to summer camp when she had written me her first letter. I was on my bed, jerking off to it.
June 5, 1972 Dear Brother,
Life is lonely without you. Everyone is mean here. Come and rescue me. You only understand me. Not mom or dad. Hurry.
Love,
SIS
This was her here and now. She had grown into a remarkable woman and may I say, that I was turning into quite a man. I bet I had fucked ten times as much as anyone at our school. The only thing I regretted was the time we had spent physically apart.
Also, the times when we were emotionally apart needn't have been so. Perhaps sex might've brought us closer together again. We could even watch while one of us had lovers and compare notes. Easy fucks could've been scored by one acting on the other's behalf. Ahhhh ... the times we missed.
But this needn't be so. We still have time to mend old mistakes and this was a new beginning. She sat up in bed and kissed my chest, stopped and fingered my prick. We both looked deeply into each other's eyes and knew what was about to happen.
What shocked me next, was how easily and professionally she slid the thing into her oral cavity. I've seen porno superstars, Nadine who didn't take things in that easily. My own sister, a sexual athlete. You could bet I was damn proud.
"Mmmmmmm."
"Love me?"
"Of course, darling."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Suck, suck."
I entered her without even having sucked her off. She just pulled me toward her and I had to-for she loved it. I was almost thinking what it would be like if we ran away together to some foreign country and lived together for the rest of our lives.
In reality, she couldn't stand the people in our town, even Mark. With me, it was even more obvious. All of my fucks at this point had been with cute housewives in the town and Nadine. Not that I regretted it, but that it was somewhat weird.
"Why, oh why couldn't I have a girlfriend of my own," I asked myself. "Why should I be sentenced to endure this morbid solitude for the rest of my existence?"
"Love me?"
"Of course, darling."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Suck, suck."
"A partner, to go through life with," I sighed to myself, "one who shared my own interests and political view. The physical compatibility should coincide with the spiritual and the intellectual for a complete oneness. Everyone else seemed to achieve this state of being, why was I being excluded?"
I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!! I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!! I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!! I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!!
I was being satisfied and by the looks of my sister, there with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face, the obviousness of her state stood clear, also.
I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!! I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!! I pulled out and RAMMED IT IN HARD!!
WE CAME!!WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! TOGETHER!! TOGETHER!! TOGETHER!! TOGETHER!! TOGETHER!!
WHITE STUFF'S SPURTING OUT!! WHITE STUFF'S SPURTING OUT!! WHITE STUFF'S SPURTING OUT!! WHITE STUFF'S SPURTING OUT!! WHITE STUFF'S SPURTING OUT!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!! WE CAME!!
Mary just nonchalantly, with her eyes scooped out the rest of the liquid that was leaking back out from her cunt, reached up and rubbed it all over her necks and cheek, as if it was the most delicate perfume from France. Next, she pulled me by my rod and stuffed it into her face again, as if she was a kid with an oral fixation on a lollipop.
I CAME AGAIN!! SHE SUCKED HARDER AND HARDER!! I CAME AGAIN!! SHE SUCKED HARDER AND HARDER!! I CAME AGAIN!! SHE SUCKED HARDER AND HARDER !! I CAME AGAIN!! SHE SUCKED HARDER AND HARDER!! I CAME AGAIN!! SHE SUCKED HARDER AND HARDER!! The stuff dribbled out again and she sucked it like milk from a straw.
No other images of other women were traveling through my brain at this point. For a moment, the world was forgotten. I was at the mercy of her nimble fingertips and ultra-sensitive lips and tongue. I imagined lying there for hours and hours.
She began to tantalize me so that it would even be impossible to get to sleep. SHE JABBED HER TONGUE INTO MY PRICK!! SHE JABBED HER TONGUE INTO MY PRICK!! SHE JABBED HER TONGUE INTO MY PRICK!! SHE JABBED HER TONGUE INTO MY PRICK!!
This was impossible!!! She was wild as a banshee!! Would no one come into the room and stop her?
Why, I hadn't even got the chance yet to prove my deftness by slipping my wetness all around, exploring her hot box in a slither. Where did her energy come from?
I had never seen her this way when I had voyeured between her and her lovers. She sucked me for all I was worth, emptying me out like a vacuum cleaner. Strangely enough, I wasn't spent and now relished the thought of re turning her favor.
DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!!
SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER HOLE. SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER HOLE. SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER HOLE. SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER SLIPPERY, LUSCIOUS, LASCIVIOUS, LUBRICATED, BEAUTIFUL HOLE.
OUT SEEPED MORE JUICE ... OUT SEEPED MORE JUICE ... OUT SEEPED MORE JUICE ... OUT SEEPED MORE JUICE ... OUT SEEPED MORE JUICE ... FROM MY SISTER.
DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!! DEEPER AND DEEPER I WENT!!
SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER HOLE. SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER HOLE. SLITHER, SLITHER, SUCK, SUCK!! THE WETNESS OF HER HOLE.
"ANNNNH ..." SHE CRIED IN PLEASURABLE PAIN, "ANNNNHHHHHH ..."
I faithfully kept up my tail, pardon the expression end of the arrangement and made experience orgasm after pleasurable orgasm, so that she could see how it felt. The pain and the pleasure were hers.
DEEPER, DEEPER, FUCKING WITH MY TONGUE!! DEEPER, DEEPER, FUCKING WITH MY TONGUE!! DEEPER, DEEPER, FUCKING WITH MY TONGUE!! DEEPER, DEEPER, FUCKING WITH MY TONGUE!!!!!!!
This was going to be a two person orgy to end all orgies. I grabbed hold of her breasts, seeing the two of them in profile from my lower perspective and began kneading them again. I was in love with my own sister. She grabbed the bedposts behind her and raised her legs to allow me all the room that I felt that I required for the job.
"HARDER," she cried out, so loud that I was afraid someone downstairs might hear, "HARDER, HARDER, HARDER."
SHE CAME THROUGH THE ROOF!! SHE CAME THROUGH THE ROOF!! SHE CAME THROUGH THE ROOF!! SHE CAME THROUGH THE ROOF!! SHE CAME THROUGH THE ROOF!! SHE CAME THROUGH THE ROOF!!
I was damn proud of myself and she was running her fingers through my hair. One her rings scratched me, gently. The gentle odor of snatch permeated the air and bits of pussy hair stuck between my teeth.
Liquid was all over me. I was reduced at this point to rubbing the whole of my mouth over every lower part of her: the inner lips, the outer, her little clit, between her lets, and down the crack to her asshole.
Girls always had praised me for "being able to eat pussy" and tonight I was at my best. Perhaps when the two of us got together again and again, I would be even better. Nothing seemed more rewarding than giving her pleasure. Even if she was only my sister.
I got up and entered her again. DEEPER AND DEEPER ... DEEPER AND DEEPER ... DEEPER AND DEEPER ... DEEPER AND DEEPER ... DEEPER AND DEEPER ...
She squeezed the whole of my body in rhythm with the contractions of her cunt. It was different this time from the first: more tender, than forced.
This was not too deny the pleasurable stimulation we derived from it, though. It was only a few seconds until ...
... WE CAME TOGETHER ... WE CAME TOGETHER ... WE CAME TOGETHER ... WE CAME TOGETHER ... WE CAME TOGETHER ... AGAIN AND AGAIN.
The moment was too short, although it seemed to last an eternity. I exploded once again, inside of her and she barely squeezed her arms around me, preferring to let the feeling run a course of its own.
"Love me?"
"Of course, darling."
"Slurp, slurp."
"Suck, suck."
We wrapped the blanket around us for warmth. Someone had left the window open stupidly and I closed it. We kissed again as we had done before and I fingered her a bit, down to her cunt and up to her tits.
Mother came in the room, quite unexpected to us, but we had been resting for the moment. The blanket was still up, so she couldn't see anything. I just couldn't wait until she got the hell out.
"Awwwwww, isn't it cute."
"Yup." I answered, not knowing what to say. Meanwhile, I was still busy fingering Mary down to her cunt and up to her swinging tits. It was the life.
"You must love each other very much, I must at once say."
If only she knew the truth! Would she be appalled? Would she send us to jail? Maybe to a mental institution? We were only doing what seemed natural, similar to animals in the deep of the woods.
"Dinner'll be ready soon."
"We'll be there."
And she left, Mary kissed me and I kept on stroking down to her cunt and up to her swinging tits.
One may be disgusted when I describe what we did, but you only have to look at the circumstances: Life was miserable all around. We were only doing what we could to survive. The only possible way that we could've gone wrong is by the fact that we forgot to utilize any type of protection.
"Help us."
"What?"
"Help us, dear lord."
I had always said such things in my early childhood. Creating a fantasy world out of one that for me, was nonexistent. Reality was far too depressing. My father had beat me, hard ever since I was three and I had the marks on me to prove it.
"Help us."
"What?"
"Help us, dear lord."
"Help us."
"What?"
"Help us, dear lord."
"John, you've got to tell me what you mean by that. Please ..."
"I was just thinking of that old lady who used to live down the street on the other side of the block." During this tangent, my finger went down to her cunt and up to her swinging tits. And back again.
"Yeah, I remember her," my sister said, "she was very pretty."
"I had sex with her."
"So?"
"Often."
"I don't see anything so wrong with that. Was she good?"
"The best," then seeing the hurt expression on her face, "besides you." She perked up a bright smile.
"I'm glad it was her."
"Why?"
"She was nice."
"Oh."
"I also had sex with her."
"My own sister, a dike."
She slapped me gently and squeezed the bulbous head of my prick.
"Don't say that!!!!"
"Is it really true?"
"Yes ..."
"Then, why shouldn't I say something like that about it?"
"Because it isn't nice. It was a caring, tender relationship like the one you and me are having, almost. And you said she was good in bed with you, wasn't she?"
"The best."
"Well, there."
"Okay, I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize."
"Thank you, goddess."
"You're welcome."
"Wanna fuck again?"
"Nah, I'm too tired."
Chapter Five
Dinner was pleasant, if not a bit subdued. I waited for Mother to say something, hinting that she knew, in fact what had happened between Mary and me.
Nothing of the sort happened. I waited and waited some more. I, in effect was doing Mother's job of instilling paranoia and worrying for the both of us.
"How's the food?" she asked.
"Not bad."
"Good."
This was the extent of the verbal communication, but the pleasant part was that Mary was kicking me under the table and I was fingering her with my tippy toes. The toes, I had read in the Joy of Sex were a primordinate sexual tool and capable of many things.
"How's everything?"
"Not bad."
"Good."
"Mary, you certainly seem pretty quiet tonight, lamp chops."
I burst out laughing. "LAMB CHOPS YOU MEAN, LAMB CHOPS." She had been doing this the whole of our lives. Certain little things like that always irritated me.
"Well!"
We were silent from that point on. Who the hell wanted to talk to her, anyway? She hated us. She had said so many times. No use pretending any different.
The problem was, that there was no plot in our lives, as well in this book. I sit around on this dumb little machine turning these things out in a fuckin' mill. They don't pay me a whole hell of a lot, but I guess the fact that you guys out there read this stuff over and over is some sort of reward.
For laughs, I pulled out an old newspaper article by my father out of my pocket and read: By the way, everything you read about New York way out there in Biloxi, Mississippi, or wherever you are isn't true. It's a damn good city and I'm proud to live here. Democrats outnumber Republicans five to one.
We have the statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building and Rikers Island is a first class hotel. If you ever visit, stay there! You'll want never to leave.
This may seem too editorial a note, so ...
I hated him. He was my father and I hated him. Never around when you needed him. Sis and I should've become runaways. It was a good idea and we could still do it. I knew a scumatorium in the City where we could get a job doing a live sex show.
This, though was far off. For the moment, I was content to hide our affair under the table and continue it surreptitiously. It was sad, in a way, but who cared?
After dinner, we both went to our separate rooms. We waved, but were much too exhausted for anything else.
"See you, my love."
"Until then."
I stretched out my dork while I lie in bed to inspect it. A lovely specimen, and lately it had been getting quite a workout. No other confirmation of any kind was needed. If one asked Mary, she would be more than happy, I'm sure, to tell them the story of our incestuous love relationship.
The phone rang. Guess who it was. That's right, The lady who was hot to trot. I couldn't believe it.
"Hello."
"Guess who."
"Is it really?"
"You're damned straight."
"The lady who was hot to trot!"
"Not in person, but on the phone."
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"Your sister?"
"Okay." I said this harshly, not wanting to give us away.
"That's good to hear."
"Thank you." Again, I made care to say this stolidly.
"Are you ready, big boy for my warm, soft pussy again?"
"You bet, you sensuous, slippery The lady who was hot to trot."
"I love it when you call me that, Mr. Very Big Dong."
Wanting to get her hot and juicy, I repeated my last phrase that she had so enjoyed. "The lady who was hot to trot." I could hear the heavy breathing.
"I want ... to suck ... your big ... dong ... and have ... you cream ... between ... my big, sensitive breasts."
"Go ahead."
"I'm deep throating you."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"My warm, soft pussy is getting extremely, extremely hot."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"My tongue is languishing as deep as it can get."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"I'm exploring your inner recesses. Your cheeks are so delicate, and so smooth, cavernous and soft."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"I'm sticking my finger in my warm, soft pussy to wet myself."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"Do something to me."
"I'm taking your finger out of your warm, soft pussy and kissing your hand, then replacing mine deep inside."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"Is it pleasurable?"
"I love it."
"Do you want me?"
"Yahhhhhhs."
"I'm tracing the outline of your perked up nipples with my tongue ... spreading saliva ... I'm now going from the top down to the bottom over ... and over ... and over ... and over again."
"Please, more."
"Okay, you asked for it."
"Please, more."
"I'm going up and down again and over and over again. I can feel your mounds responding to my touch. The odor of the room is wafting with warm, soft pussy juice, but I will torture you and not enter yet."
"Please, more."
"I don't know."
"Please, more."
"I'm looking at your delicate, pretty little face and touching your cheeks. You are so warm, so beautiful."
"Please, more."
"I give you a full kiss on the lips just to show you just how much I love you. I kiss you over and over again."
"Don't stop."
"I had no intention of doing so. You are a bad, little girl and you must be punished. All this while, I am fingering your warm, soft pussy all over."
"Don't stop."
"It is a beautiful pussy, I must admit and one that has been my victim numerous times. I have entered it, gliding in, and out. And in. And out."
"Please, I am a woman who craves pleasure. I beg of you, enter me. Be one with me. I love you, please."
"I am entering you. My prick is guided gently by your hand to your gaping slit. I go in gently, you are soft. It goes. I go in ... and out. And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out."
"Don't stop."
"And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out."
"Don't stop."
"And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out."
"Your dick is so very, very big. I never had one this big. Please, I think that I am going to burst. Pull out, but you're giving me so much pleasure."
"I will make you a woman."
"More."
"I'm coming."
"More."
"I'm coming."
"More."
"My prick guides easily and I'm beginning to get more and more turned on by the sight of you like a bitch in heat. I'm playing with your tits at this moment and the blood vessels are about to burst. I don't know how you are able to take it any longer. They are about to burst, please help yourself. I don't mean to hurt you, only give pleasure."
"More."
"I explode. My cum shoots straight into you and I relax. This is a good load and I experience an orgasm in your inner recesses. I can feel your arms around me and your nails digging deep into my back."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"I feel the inner wall of my pussy gripping around, accepting you, I'm that sensitive. I never had problems, like other people experiencing orgasms. PLEASE! HELP ME! I'M COMING! My warm, soft pussy."
"You get what you deserve."
"PLEASE! HELP ME! I'M COMING! PLEASE! HELP ME! I'M COMING!"
"I'm deep throating you to help you once along. We're gyrating in rhythm to the music in the background. I can feel something happening inside of you. A pulse, a surge, kinetic energy flowing between us."
"I'm coming."
"I know. Come."
"I'm coming."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"I love the gushing, slippery feeling of warm, soft pussy."
"I love the in and out motion of your thick, hard cock."
"I love the largeness, soft, ripe milky whiteness of your luscious, sensuous smooth tits."
"I love the hardness of your shoulders. Come inside me again."
I put down the phone and I'm sure she did also, to rest for a second. Even though I had had over nine hours of sex that today, I was still getting worked up over this phone conversation. Even when she had been here in Lower Slobbovia, The lady who was hot to trot and her warm, soft pussy never knew, or was sensitive enough to give me and my thick, hard cock a rest.
This was the day when I would tell her off. Her, and the rest of the women who bided their time with me. Who did they think I was, a sexual athlete? I had feelings, too. Me and my thick, hard cock were not like the ones you found on the usual dumb jocks that hung around shopping malls in and around the community of Lower Slobbovia, I warn you.
I was special, and should be treated with tender, loving care. Sure, I loved to fuck just as much as the other guy in Lower Slobbovia, but don't take me for granted. I refuse to be treated that way.
"John?"
"Yes, lady who was hot to trot?"
"I love you."
This made all the difference.
"I love you." I answered, thinking of the woman who had taught me so much. So giving, unselfish, caring. Our dreams of opening a sex clinic together had never come to fruition, but our relationship had. We could be thousands of miles apart and in our souls, we were still together. When we had these little telephone sex sessions, it wasn't as good as the real thing, but I still came and came.
"Visit me."
"I don't know. I have school and everything, you know."
"Don't say you know so many times, it's bad English."
"Sorry."
"No need to apologize."
Now she was beginning to act a bit like my sister.
"Run away."
"I can't."
"Got a girlfriend."
"Not really."
"What do you mean, not really?"
"Nothing."
"You can tell me."
"I just fucked someone the other day who I met here."
"Was she good?"
"Not as good as you. She was a true to life porno star, though. I looked her up after seeing her in a magazine."
"That's nice."
"Thank you."
"It's not like you need my permission, or anything."
What did she think, that I would remain celibate all this time? Sometimes, I had to wonder about her.
"Well, at least it's good that you have some sort of playmate."
Sometimes, I had to wonder about me! I wonder what she would say if that "playmate" were my sister?
"Do I know her?"
"She's my sister."
"What?"
"Mary."
"How could you?"
"She's good in bed."
"But ..."
"That, and love are all that matters. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah, but ..."
"No buts."
"You do sound committed. Perhaps there's more to it."
"You bet ya'."
"When did this happen."
"Just today. Jesus, lady who was hot to trot, I came A HALF A DOZEN TIMES!!! DOESN'T THAT MEAN SOMETHING? FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I WAS A CANDIDATE FOR THE GUINESS BOOK OF WORLD RECORDS."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"At first, I was appalled. But not now, I assure you."
"If I can't confide in you, lady who was hot to trot, then there's no one except my thick, hard cock."
"I, the lady who was hot to trot and my warm, soft pussy will listen to all of your problems, I promise."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
That clinched it. Maybe this wasn't a morally indifferent situation. Perhaps Mary and I weren't doomed.
"Only time will tell."
We said goodbye to each other and that was the end of that. I missed her company and tried to look back at all the fun times we had had. She said she was doing all right out there, and I was glad for her. Mary was my only survival ticket at the moment, and I guess from some moment in her dear life, the lady who was hot to trot was able to identify.
I flipped on an xxx rated video cassette to pass the time, having nothing to do. I wanted to learn some new techniques to try out on Mary. In actuality, I was more experienced to her and I wanted to be the world's best teacher in demonstrating things.
Suddenly, the door opened. Without a knock. I was just pulling on myself, fantasizing that I was deeply involved with a porno starlet, when it happened.
"John?"
I didn't want to look up. Undoubtedly, it was not Mary's voice. That would've been a fantasy, if she had walked in at that moment, but this was reality.
"John, what are you doing?"
It was her. My mother. It was quite obvious what I was doing and only she would ask that question. I closed my eyes even tighter. The plan was to pretend I was asleep and that way, in some manner avoid confronting what seemed fairly obvious.
"John, are you awake?"
So far my plan was working. It was too good to be true. Now, let's see ... she would stand there for maybe a minute more, fret, perhaps walk over for a closer view, shake her head and walk out, closing the door on her way. I thought I had her logic down pat. All that remained was a short wait, and it would all be over. I started ... one two ... three ... four ... five ... six ...
I felt a wetness on my groin. Shit! Was I coming? How disgusting. My whole cover would be blown. Just my luck. How did these things happen to me?
Wait! It was bobbing up and down of its own free will! No ... it couldn't be. Maybe? Perhaps? Lord, oh lord? Nah ... it just couldn't be.
Unless ... wait. Mary had come into the room right after my mother had left and was giving me a blowjob. Right ... it had to be.
Carefully, I opened my eyes. Sure enough, there was Mary's smiling, shiny face in front of me. Relaxed, I opened my view slightly more and to my horror, saw that she was nude, but sitting alone on a chair doing nothing! Hey! What was happening here?
Mom! I opened my eyes their full and it was her! Mom! My own mother was giving me a blowjob! I was MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING! MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING! MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING! MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING!
She was great, that was the thing! I looked as over and down she moved, over and down. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED. SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED. SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED.
I FARTED. Over and down she moved, over and down. MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING I was. MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING.
SO SMOOTH. SO SMOOTH. SO SMOOTH. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. SO SMOOTH. SO SMOOTH. I FARTED. SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED. SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED. She was indisputably the best. I envied my father. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. Over and down she moved, over and down.
MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING was what I was and I pictured myself as a baby in a crib. My sister just watched, declining as yet to join in on the fun. I still couldn't believe it! My own mother a pervert!
This was the beginning of a whole new establishment of ties for my family, I thought. Why should we give into tired, staid mores. This was America and we were entitled to live our lives in the way we pleased. Whoever the fuck begged to differ, could just suck my cock. Excepting if he was a male. I was straight as an arrow and didn't go in for that stuff. Not that I discriminated against those who did. Once again, this is America for those of you who weren't listening.
MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING. The term just came to me in an inspired sort of way. There was my mother, going over and down, over and down. SO SMOOTH.
SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED. Over and down she moved, over and down. I FARTED. MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING. I thought I was going to cum and come soon.
SHE NEVER GAVE UP! SO SMOOTH. Almost like a machine, packing my meat in and out like a damn piston. Or, like a vacuum cleaner! Yes, that was it, like a fucking, goddamn, joy giving, juice smelling, female, whore bitin' god given blowjob vacuum cleaner.
SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED.
Chapter Six
When I woke up, my dick was soft and my mother and sister were sleeping on either side of me. I didn't remember much of what had happened, but that I had had a very good time and that this was the start of something big. Probably, we would have orgies every night, as my father worked at that time. This might have accounted for my mother's horniness and submitting to such a degrading act.
I, myself was no better and should be scolded for being high and mighty about everything. After all, I was bearing the fruits of their sins and was just about in every which way, as responsible, if not more than they were. It almost goes without saying.
In the future, I wondered if we could bring the neighbors in and introduce them to the world of wonderful world of swinging. It was certainly worth a thought.
I went to the kitchen to fix myself something to eat. There was some cool, fresh squeezed orange juice and I downed a glass quickly. Marathon sex certainly does work up an appetite. In the past two days, I had had four sessions, lasting eighteen hours. It was about the time to call Guiness.
I looked at a carton of eggs and also saw that we had tomatoes, onions and cheese. I thought about fixing a big omelet for everyone to eat, and then selfishly said no. Why should I take the effort? Let them make their own food. After all, if I took this position, the chances are that Mom would prepare it anyhow.
I took half of a leftover cheese sandwich instead. Not that I wasn't hungry, because I also took a few pieces of fruit and a milkshake that I made. I was determined to keep up the pace for as long as it appeared that I could last. In the end, it would probably be that I would wind up dead, or something.
"Relying on my family for sexual desires, was wrong though," I thought. "I should have an outside partner."
Nadine, with her pert little nipples and proportionate body came to mind. We had left on good terms and I could surely call her, and I would certainly do so sooner or later. Right now, I had my hands full. It was also doubtful the family would approve.
We would have to sneak. Have secret trysts in restaurants, cafes and bars. It would be fun. Dingy hotel rooms. I knew that she would get into all of it. She seemed like a fun sort of girl to be with.
I would call her that afternoon. I made up my mind. This was the best course of action and was relieved that I had finally decided to do something. Otherwise, I could end up digging myself deeper into the rut that I was obviously in.
Let's see ... what was her number? I don't think she gave it to me. No matter. Wait. It was on her model solicitation sheet that I had gotten when I went to the offices of BEAVERTREND MAGAZINE, or whatever the damn thing was called.
Would she be there if I called now? Probably not. Best to wait until at least noon ... wait! I had school. How could I be so dumb to forget?
I looked at the digital clock above the refrigerator. Ten thirty. Damn! Too late. Believe it or not, I was a serious student and wouldn't miss a day, sex or no sex. I had a college scholarship, full paid that I was going for and I wasn't about to blow it after working so hard up to now.
Problems had to be considered. What if my father found out? Would he kick me out of the house? Would he join in? That would disgust me in light of what I told you before, that I was straight as an arrow.
And the community ... what would be their reaction? Chances are that this would ever come about, although we did have some nosy people in the neighborhood and they certainly weren't above poking their nose in the windows, or even spying from their houses with a pair of high power binoculars.
The dangers were there, that was imminent. One had to carefully think about what he or she was doing and weigh the risks. In this case, I was lucky because the advantages far outweighed the disadvantages.
A good idea would be if we all took a trip together. That way we could have plenty of sex without anyone being suspicious. Somewhere in Europe where that sort of thing was commonplace: Sweden, or France.
When we got back, though what would happen. The community would only naturally assume that we had taken a simple vacation abroad, but what about my father? What would he say? Even if we told him before we went.
We could make up some excuse ... that was surely possible. A plausible one could be found, I reasoned. No, chances are that it would have to come out. With three people and such a close relationship, it was bound to. It was just a question of sooner or later. Better later, than sooner.
Was there an immediate danger? That was doubtful. The turn of events had even taken me by surprise. I wondered how long my mother and Mary had been planning this.
They certainly took me on gracefully. Were they even lesbians? Chances were that this was the case. I would ask them when they woke up, or they would show me that they were. I only ask this because I hope that they are, wanting to explore the thing as far as it would go. I was not one to be cowardly.
Could the three of us take my father on? Would things work out naturally of their own accord? Would the family end up split apart? Should Mary and I run away at this very moment to avoid things? This, I knew was practically an impossibility.
Only time would tell the outcome of these events. We had committed ourselves to something which we, or other people knew very little about. Most were even afraid of such. We could only rely on our instinct.
Mary came down the stairs alone. She was dressed in one of my robes and still looked a little tired.
"Good morning." I said.
"Good morning. What have we got to eat in there?"
"What about each other?"
She laughed. Mary always did have a good sense of humor. I patted her on top of her cunt, flattening her hairs and deep throated her to boot.
"Mmmmmmmmm," she responded.
"Liked it, huh?"
She smiled and opened the refrigerator, taking out jars of peanut butter and jelly, along with some butter.
"We're out of bread."
"Oh." She put them back.
"I just had half of a cheese sandwich that was lying around."
"Right. I made that yesterday."
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
"That's all right."
"No need to apologize."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
That was our pledge. I told her about the term I had been thinking about when my thick, hard cock had been receiving a blowjob before. MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING.
"MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING?" she asked, "wherever did you derive a definition such as that?"
"I don't know. I think it came from when we were little. Maybe I was abused in the crib. But, anyway I can remember Mom talking to someone over the phone and I don't know if she was talking about you or me, but she said something about MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING to whoever was on the line then."
"Weird."
"It doesn't matter. We are who we are right now and the rest doesn't matter. You can't go around blaming everybody for each little thing wrong with yourself."
"I agree."
"Smart girl."
She kissed me and I patted her little mound once more, marveling how she coifed each spectacular little hair on it and formed a perfectly little shaped triangle. Now I saw that this gift shouldn't be wasted on just anyone. If she needed some sort of release, she shouldn't just go to anyone. Going to her brother was the safest, best thing.
"Are we going to have another session a little later on?"
"I'm up for it."
"What about Mom?"
"I bet she will be, also."
"For how long did you guys plan something like this?"
"It was spur of the moment."
"Really?"
"Honest to god, cross my heart and hope to fall down dead."
"Well, I have to take that as the honest to god truth."
"Mary, do you really think I have a large prick, honestly?"
"Yes." She turned her eyes downward toward the floor.
"No, honestly. You wouldn't be saying that because I'm your brother, would you? Tell the truth."
"You have a big prick. You're an excellent lover. Best I ever had. Cross my heart and hope to drop dead on this filthy floor right here if I'm lying."
"Thanks."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"Did you ever make it with Dad?" I had to know now.
"No."
"Honest?"
"Yes."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"How many lovers have you had in Lower Slobbovia altogether?"
"Besides Mark?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I've had sex with a lot of people, but I didn't love them."
"Do you love Mark?"
"Yes."
"Is he a better sexual partner than I am? Be honest."
"It's different. I couldn't say."
"Oh, c'mon."
"Don't be possessive, now. We have such a good thing going right here. Let's not ruin it, please."
"You're right."
"Of course I'm right."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
We renewed our vow over and over again and explored every nuance that we thought might be found in its meaning. No love is real love until the waters are tested, we reasoned and this was no exception.
Every time, we found the dictum to still hold. Things seemed perfect. We were not selfish and respected for each other. Mom, for her part only joined us occasionally from the first time and said she did so because she wanted to encourage the both of us.
"Lower Slobbovia isn't such a good place," she would tell us, "but at least the two of you have each other."
I never questioned on whether she had abused me in the crib, or not. I didn't want to know and as I stated before, it really didn't make a difference. I was what I was and I was glad, even if things did happen to be a little tragic at times.
I said to Sis that first morning after that I was still a little hungry and she agreed that she was also and that this might be satisfied if we engaged in a little sixty nine. I thought it was a good idea.
I WANTED HER. SHE WAS THE BEST. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. SMOOTH, DRIPPING, OOZING, RIGID, SEXY STOOD HER CUNT IN FRONT OF ME. I WISHED THAT SHE HAD WANTED TO SIT IN TOP OF MY FACE, BUT I WAS ENJOYING HER BLOWJOB TOO MUCH TO COMPLAIN.
Over and down she moved, over and down. MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING I WAS AND I HAD A REPUTATION TO UPHOLD, SO I BURIED MYSELF KINKILY AS FAR AS MY TONGUE, LIPS AND EVERYTHING ELSE WOULD GO. IF I COULD, I WOULD'VE STUCK MY HEAD IN THERE.
FLAGELLATING ALL OVER HER FACE AND TITS I CAME. THE SIGHT OF THE MILKY WHITE CUM GIVING HER A BATH WAS TOO MUCH. EVEN Nadine, I bet wouldn't submit to such treatment, but Mary was my sister and relished the spicy liquid, drinking each little excess drop.
DRIPPING, SMOOTH, DRIPPING, OOZING, BEAUTIFUL, SEXY, FLAGELLATING ALL OVER HER FACE AND TITS AND EATING HER CUNT AT THE SAME TIME!!! IT WAS TOO MUCH!!! WHERE WAS MOM TO JOIN IN ON ALL THE GLORIOUS FUN?
I FINGERED HER TITS. She liked that. I FINGERED HER TITS MORE AND MORE, STRETCHING OUT HER NIPPLES AS FAR AS I COULD TAKE THEM, WHICH WAS AT LEAST A FEW INCHES. MY MOUTH MOVED ALL OVER I WANTED EVERY SQUARE INCH OF HER, BUT SHE WAS TOO GREAT, SMOOTH, DRIPPING, OOZING, AND RIGID. Her firm body was built up from years on the school track team and performing as a champion. I remembered how friends of mine had come up to me, wanting to get an introduction to her. She was no easy fuck, my sister. But, once you got her, SHE WAS THE BEST.
I FARTED. I COULDN'T CONTROL MYSELF. Could you blame me, given the conditions? I thought I was going to cum and come again soon. MOTHER'S LITTLE PLAYTHING. It kept turning over and over again in my mind.
There, in front of me was that SMOOTH, SLIPPERY LITTLE HOLE. I MOUTH FUCKED HER, MAKING HER BUCK LIKE A HORSE TO GET EVEN DEEPER. WE WERE IN LOVE, ALL RIGHT.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
WE CAME! TOGETHER!! WE CAME! TOGETHER!! WE CAME! TOGETHER!! WE CAME! TOGETHER!! WE CAME! TOGETHER!! This was eternity and heaven at the same time.
I entered her.
"Please, More."
I slid myself in and out, in and out again as deep as I could go. My goal was to scratch the bottom.
I felt each and every inch inside of her: the walls, sloshing myself around even though it was a tight fit. I loved tight girls and that had been one of Nadine's problems, she was a little stretched.
My sister picked up coins to exercise her vaginal muscles. In addition, I could see Mom stretching out her nipples ever since poverty so that they would grow extra large during sex. I had never believed her when she said that these would be an extra turn on for men and thought her cruel at the time.
Now, however it made everything so much easier to bite, suck and tease. My sister liked it also. She shaved her pussy so that it would be ultra sensitive. She said that some of the girls in the locker room had made fun of her once, but when she told them that they would be able to feel it more when their boyfriends ate them out, they all tried it and the thing became a rage, the new fashion, a fad.
I wished I had been able to observe my sister more with her lovers. That way, I would've already known in particular what excited her and what didn't. I already could guess, since we were of the same flesh and blood, but I wanted to please her more ... I CAME ... I CAME ... I CAME AGAIN ... AND AGAIN ... AND AGAIN.
This was clearly no time to cry about lost time. To the contrary, we were making it up. We came together in a shudder and hugged each other tightly, two humans, yet two animals. I say that because we were submitting to our primary urges with no scruples.
This was no problem, because we were both liberals. Sex was healthy, in any way, shape or form. Anybody who criticized it in a different form was full of shit. Sex was great and we were going to dedicate the rest of our lives in the pursuit of pleasure. Ultimate pleasure, like gods.
"Mary, what's your favorite sex act, I mean where you come the easiest. I need to know for our quest in pursuit of ultimate pleasure. A variable."
"It depends on who I'm with, but generally fucking."
"And what methods do you like performed during foreplay?"
"Sucking my tits. I think they're more sensitive than most women's. Of course all women's tits and particularly the nipples are quite sensitive, but the way I come I'd have to say that mine are a bit more. A skilled mouth man can drive me crazy; But, if he's not good it's a turn-off."
"I see. What can you say about cunt-lapping? Do you enjoy that as much as tit-sucking, explain in depth."
"Ooooooooooooh ... I'm also different than most women in that area. I almost come immediately when someone starts to eat me out. You know, once I even had a woman eat my cunt all out."
"What was that like."
"Different."
"In what way."
"More sensitive, in a feminine sort of way. I really enjoyed it. Perhaps I just felt so much more because it was new to me, though. I really believe that part of an active sex life is trying new things."
"A wise point. When do you think things become boring."
"Well, I don't think that it's solely because one doesn't have multiple partners. You can have a fully satisfying sex life with a single partner as well."
"What does make it boring, then. Laziness, perhaps?"
"In a way. The most important thing to remember is to keep up communication, though. If you hide something from your partner, how are they going to know?"
"You mean things will just start to build up in that way."
"Exactly."
"Who was the best sex partner that you think you ever had?"
"Well, besides you I'd have to say that it was Mark."
"Was he that good?"
"Oh, yeah ... he knew how to eat pussy like a pro."
"Describe fucking."
"The most intimate way to bring two people together. Even sex with a female can't equal that."
"Have you ever had any experiences with anal intercourse?"
"Have you?"
"No."
"Well, Mark wanted to try it and I got a little edgy. I believe in variety, but I also think that you should be very careful in not harming your partner."
"Another wise thing said."
"Well, it's very important. It's like the difference between casual sex and with someone you love."
"What's that difference?"
"Well, casual sex is just to satisfy a need. You can come and be satisfied, but the feeling's only temporary. Loving sex is so much different. It brings us together. I recommend it between close friends, as well as a person of the opposite sex, or similar sex for that matter that you're having a relationship with."
"I think that we should take the vow again now."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
Chapter Seven
I didn't know what to do next. Everything was closing in. Perhaps suicide was the only way out, I didn't know. What could I manage to just stay above water? This was a conservative family in the beginning, true Reaganites. Where would we go from here?
Mary, Mary, Mary who bore no resemblance to the Virgin Mary. I was no pristine angel myself, either I must admit. Why couldn't things be normal?
Please, lord. Help me. I'll be good from now on if you just get me out of this damn, fuckin' mess. You must realize that I didn't do this on purpose. I was always at the top of your list, singin' in the Sunday school choir at the top of my lungs.
I remember preacher and how hard he bellowed up there:
"Do you believe?"
"I believe."
"That's good."
"You better believe it," We all shouted in unison.
"Do you believe?"
"I believe."
'"Cause the lord knows whether you're tellin' the truth."
"Oh yes, oh yes."
"Do you believe?"
"I'm not goin' to ask you twice, now. Answer me."
"We're the lord's children and do not take his name in vain."
"Do you believe?"
"I believe."
"That's good."
The congregation was sweating in the hot, mid-afternoon July sun. Relief was on all of our minds. "Do you believe?"
"I believe."
"Would he shut up, already?" each of us wondered to ourselves. The unbearable sweltering was making life anything but tolerable. At best intolerable.
"Do you believe?"
"I believe."
"That's good."
Mary, my father, my mother and I sat in the first pew absorbing every word, and every drop of spittle that flew from the preacher in our general direction.
I FARTED. This may have been a fuckin' gross thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. Someone else farted, and from that point on it seemed okay.
I imagined what my own sermon would possibly be like:
"Who is your saviour?"
"Our cunts."
"Do you want to be saved?"
"Yes."
"Who is your saviour?"
"Your Dick."
"Do you believe?"
"I believe."
"That's good."
"Who is your saviour?"
"Thick, hard cock."
"Who is your saviour?"
"Your Dick."
"Who is your saviour?"
"Who is your saviour?"
"Who is your saviour?"
"Our cunts."
"Do you want to be saved?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe?"
"I believe."
"That's good."
"SO SMOOTH."
"YEAH."
"My warm, soft pussy."
"YEAH."
"My thick, hard cock."
"YEAH."
"Lower Slobbovia."
"Yeah."
"Who is your saviour?"
"Please, more."
"YEAH."
"Do you want to be saved?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to be saved?"
"Yes."
"Who is your saviour?"
"F-f-f-fuckin'."
"I FARTED."
"YEAH."
"Our cunts."
"Mmmmmmmm
"Yeah, amen brothers and sisters. You sure know how to be givin' and givin' at the Church of the free souls."
Where did I think that up? It's just simply the truth, that's all. In small towns like Lower Slobbovia, the denizens are immature to necessary change.
In the big city, that's where all the action was. Who the hell cared what the next guy did. If he was a pervert, so long as he confined his actions to his own place, it wasn't bothersome at all.
Many people couldn't understand this and would say rueful, spiteful things about everything. I don't mind, because that's me. If I was opposed, I would say so. Actually, I was opposed but don't say so. If nothing else, I wasn't opposed, didn't say anything and didn't know anything, in which case I would be stupid. The "best case" scenario would be if I knew and said something, which goes without saying, of course, of course indeed.
I don't know though. And, I'm not saying anything. Who can blame me? Can you? Of course not. You'd probably do the same thing in my shoes and wouldn't blink twice about it. Smart dude, you are.
I don't give a shit, anyway. Why should I? Where is it written that I have to do exactly what everyone tells me to do. Is there such a rule book somewhere?
Of course not. I can answer that myself. Lord, oh lord give my strength or give me Tylenol to relieve my stressed, wearied brain which is unable to decide.
What do you care? You're a vengeful, wrathful lord. This has been demonstrated several times throughout history. Floods, famines, earthquakes, you name it.
I guess that might not've been your job. Some other guy was probably in charge of the "natural disasters" department. But, aren't you the overseer, the head Supervisor? Surely you must have earned your title, the lord someplace. Did you go to college for it? Is there such a program as Ecclesiastics, Prophets and World Maintenance 101?
These questions and more deserve to be answered. I will not tolerate our minds to be blank anymore. You think that you can control our wills? Guess again. Mine, at least will always be free.
You might say that I am a boring stick-in-the-mud here. You are a fucking-dumb-cluck for thinking so. Why shouldn't I worry about man and his place in this, as I term it cocky-doody-fucked-up-shit-in-a-bag-for-brains universe we have?
Give me credit, you goddamn hick-red necked-shopping mall type stick-in-the-mud-cockroach, you.
Hey! I saw you trying to pull your pitifully-short little wang out of your made-for-a-fat-man pants. Listen to me!!!! This is important.
It's not porno. The sooner you come to realize that, the better we'll get along. You got ripped off buying this book, it's as simple as that. What're you going to do, send it back to Oshkosh for a refund, cry baby?
No, you'll end up keeping it. Stashed away with all the others. Only, this one you can't read over and over again because it's not porno. The satisfaction is mine.
Why, oh why do I take my aggressions out on you, poor, dear, probably-intelligent-then-maybe-not-again reader this way?
I suppose that maybe, I'm just tempted by the devil. I haven't made a pact with him just yet, but the time is ripe. I would do anything right now to escape out of this boring-good-for-nothing-fleabag of a roach-infested hamlet.
Can you blame me, now that I've explicated the conditions as to whence my misery arises? Probably not, you yuppie. Yourself is all you care about. You're what one might call a neo-conservative.
Not that this is necessarily such a bad thing. You're probably getting ahead in this world. Doing well for yourself. I can't, in fact admire you.
If there's a girl out there, hello? I want to have sex with you. If you're a minor, put this book down before I tell your mother on you. I'm serious.
Just try me. I hold all the cards, just because you've bought this definitely-filthy-as-trash-when-you-come to it literature. I could tell your friends, and you'd be the laughingstock. If you have one, what about your wife?
Better do as I say and not arise my wrath from within. I am the lord and I control everything right from my desk. Only kidding, folks. Now's the time to continue on with the little story that was ensuing.
When we last saw our hero, and heroine they were tragically engaged in a relationship that could never be consummated in front of the community, or god for that matter, which is what led to us going off on such a tangent.
Maybe if I explained in question and answer form it would clear up a few of the intricacies of the plot.
"How does the story go?"
"No comment."
"Was one of the children adopted a long time ago?"
"No comment."
"Why did it take them so long to actually do anything?"
"No comment."
"Why do you keep on saying "no comment" over and over again?"
"No comment."
Now do you understand?
I think it was great the way Mary and I opened up to each other when we were talking about sex. Not many people would have the courage to do such a thing. That's what makes it so dear when it happens.
Mary was now downstairs with mother cleaning the house while I did nothing and pretended to do something. A very necessary thing, as it was so good at getting me out of doing anything most of the time.
I imagined myself a prisoner, as in The Man in the Iron Mask and tried to plot an escape. If I could get downstairs without their seeing me, perhaps I could get into the city to see Nadine and have a bout or two in a sleazy, goddamned hotel room.
"Hello," I heard a voice.
"Hello," it repeated, "is anybody in there at the moment?"
"Yes." I answered.
"Good." The door opened and mother walked inside. "How are you?"
"All right."
"A little melancholy?"
"Yeah. I've been sitting on my bed brooding for the last hour. I'm depressed about something, but I don't know what."
"Think I can help?"
"Maybe."
"Will you open up to me, spilling your guts onto the floor?"
"It depends."
"On what."
"First of all, no sex."
"Agreed."
"And, you've got to promise not to laugh at me, under any circumstances."
"John! I'm surprised to hear that you think I would ever do such a thing. I'm your mother, remember that."
"Can I take that long, indulgent speech as a yes?"
"Don't be nasty, or I'll leave."
"Sorry."
"It's all right."
"Do you know Mary and my vow that we always recite?"
"No."
"Let me say it for you."
"Go ahead."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"Hmmmmm. Say it once more."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"Interesting. Why do you say that? Which one of you made it up? Was it you, or possibly, maybe Mary?"
"Both of us, really."
"And why?"
"Because, I think that me and my thick, rigid cock and her and her warm, soft pussy were unhappy."
"About living in Lower Slobbovia, I would put my money down on."
"Yeah."
"I didn't know that you felt so strongly about it."
"Don't get me wrong, we're not blaming you, or anything."
"It's all right."
"You think so?"
"Yeah."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"It's so difficult to say."
"Try me."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"All right. You asked for it, I'm going to tell you. I think that we would've been much better off in the city."
"How?" she asked, flabbergasted.
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"All right. People in Lower Slobbovia are just about as dumb as my thick, rigid cock without a brain, or the same as your thick, warm, soft pussy without lubricant."
"That's pretty harsh ..."
"... Nonetheless, I'm afraid that it is true."
"What do you base this on?"
"The resistance to change."
She laughed. "Things are peaceful here. You have two beautiful women going after your body. Why are you so down? You should be dancing for joy."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"First, let's both of us recite that vow I told you."
"Okay."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"No, what?"
"Actually, after saying that I don't feel so bad. It's amazing how a little thing like that can just pick you right up and back on the right track."
"See, I told you," and I hugged her, for she was a good mother.
"Maybe we should make up a secret vow just for the two of us."
"Okay, I know. Just say the first thing that comes to mind."
"Hmmmmmmmmm ..."
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
"Wanna do it again?"
"Okay."
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
"Hey, maybe we should just follow it up with mine and Mary's code to be on the safe side of things."
"No, that's personal between the two of you only."
"Okay, one more time ours."
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
She bit my nose for emphasis and my thick, rigid cock began to rise in response. I stared down at her usually warm, soft pussy, but her pants and undies hit it for the moment. I was sure it was only temporary.
"Let me please see your thick, rigid cock," she asked.
"Only, if I'm entitled in response to see your warm, soft pussy."
"Okay."
"Fair deal."
She pulled down her pants, slowly to reveal a pair of bikini underpants that had a small, red heart in the middle tufts of pubic hair that were a little more wispy than Mary's, but none the less beautiful.
I had seen them before and looked forward to sucking each and every little strand of it. She smiled prettily and I pulled down the blanket from on top of me, so as to let her enter inside them with me.
"Ready?"
"First the oath ..."
"I mean ..."
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
She took off the panties, climbed in beside me and then took over her shirt, revealing a perfectly formed set of tits. I played around with them, noticing that they almost felt like tennis balls at the ends, soft and springy, although firm.
There was nothing more that I wanted to do than come at this point, no more stupid oaths or nothing. She was right, I was lucky to have two beautiful women after my body. Did I know anyone else like that?
And here hung that beautiful set of tits right in front of me, just for the asking. Mom placed her right hand on my now thick, rigid cock and stroked up and down, back and forth. I lied back to get more comfortable.
"Does that feel good," she asked.
"You bet."
"Please eat me out while I do this, will you John?"
Without even saying as much as a word of consent (it wasn't needed), I reversed to get at that mound that was the source of so much manly concern and pleasure. I stroked the wispy ends of her pubic hair, acting like sort of a brush. I considered asking her if I should do this every day to her from now on.
"You look like you need a coiffure on your mound of Venus."
"I have a comb."
She got out of bed and took the instrument out of her pants pocket, handed it to me and climbed back in. I asked her, daringly, "you look like you want to fuck?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes."
"I'm so over joyed."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
One of us was doomed to die in the near future. It was written like the handwriting on the wall. I knew that each of us would give our all to prevent it, but in the end it would be inevitable and final.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
Chapter Eight
On the next morning, mother, Mary and I rose out of bed early to prepare our usual rousing breakfast. These affairs had become a routine show with us and I must say ... we enjoyed them.
"Mmmmmmm, these pancakes are good," said my still sleepy eyed sister.
"Mmmmmmmm, so are the French toast," I added to what she had said.
"Mmmmmmmm, these homemade preserves are dee-d-lish. I'm sure glad some took the effort to make them."
"That was you." I answered.
"So it was, but it doesn't hurt to keep saying it."
"I didn't want to sound like I was patronizing you."
"Pshaw."
"Don't act like a little boy, now all dopey on me."
Suddenly, my sister and my mother's daughter started choking. From out of nowhere, the blue it happened.
"Don't just stand there, do something for her, man."
She looked like a little character out of a stand act comedy routine that I had once seen. I didn't know what to do. Instead, I stood there, watching her.
She moved around, knocking over chairs and stuff until I realized that I did know the Heimlich maneuver. Whether that was good or not, I cannot say.
I tried it, with a dismal, if at all response. Who could have guessed that this would be a crux in all of our lives? Certainly, alas, not this person.
This was heaven, this was hell. All summed up in a lasting, kindled moment among closest kindred. I pounded her back, in desperation and called out, GIVE HER CPR SOMEBODY, HURRY! GIVE HER CPR SOMEBODY, HURRY! GIVE HER CPR SOMEBODY, HURRY! GIVE HER CPR SOMEBODY, HURRY! GIVE HER CPR SOMEBODY, HURRY!
But, useless were my cries to be given out, because they fell on deaf ears, unfortunately for all of us. It was almost as if I had been shouting, MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!! MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!! MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!!
Useless. A crime of nature. If it was just left with my mother and I alone, without Mary would I want to continue? It was Mary who had brought out the hidden, latent sexual desire in all of us and I suppose it would have been a tribute to endure, but frankly the concept disgusted me. I would probably go back to getting young, outside of the family sexual partners to swing with.
MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!! MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!! MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!! MY TICKET'S GOING TO WIN THE LOTTERY, BUDDIES!!!
HURRY UP, SOMEBODY, GIVE HER CPR!!! HURRY UP, SOMEBODY, GIVE HER CPR!!! HURRY UP, SOMEBODY, GIVE HER CPR!!! HURRY UP, SOMEBODY, GIVE HER CPR!!!
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
"What," I answered, not noticing the two of them just mouthing the words of the pledge that my mother and I had took. It was some kind of symbolic way of Mary's letting us know that she wanted us to continue.
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
I wanted to answer, to relent to at least show my devotion and worship to her. She would've done the same for me.
"Do you want Mark here?"
"No, it's all right."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I tried to think of all the words that would describe the relationship that the two of us had had together: warm, soft pussy, thick, rigid cock, more, set of tits, fuck, Lower Slobbovia, and over, "I'm coming."
These and more, to be sure. The only question was how to save it, not let it go down the tubes, preserve the joy present in the three of us which combined as one.
Was it going to be an easy task? I did not know. It was a greater challenge than that which faced Prometheus. Fire, brimstone and treacle awaited us if we failed to measure up to the challenge.
"Hold me."
"I'm here."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
I was almost crying ... me! Mach man! Mr. Heeman!
"Hold me."
"I'm here."
She gripped me tighter than she ever had before, even in orgasm. I wanted her then, even in spite of how sick she was. She was my sister and I loved her.
"Let's fuck."
"Here?"
"All of us ..." my mother concurred, undressing slowly as we both stared at her. I guess that she was feeling a bit sensitive at the moment, wanted to show her love for her daughter and also her worthiness at such a prime age.
"No," Mary said.
"Why not?"
"It's not right. You might somehow catch my disease."
"What? You only had a piece of food lodged in your throat. So, you won't give me head. Mom'll take care of that department. Won't you do that, Mom?"
"Of course."
"You don't understand!!!!"
"What, sweetheart?"
"It's not just a piece of food. It's something much, much worse. I didn't want to tell you two until now."
"What, sweetheart."
"Hold me."
"I'm here."
"I ... I ... I ... I don't know if I should."
"Tell us. We're your family. You can trust us."
"It ... It ... It's a form of cancer."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"It's flabbergasting."
'To say the least."
"No."
"Yes."
"No ..."
"Hold me."
"I'm here."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
"How did you go about getting such a deadly disease and why is it appearing at such a sudden moment."
"I went to my gynecologist and he told me that it was caused by something I don't know and that there was nothing he could do to help me. It was as if I was likened to a gerbil in an exercise wheel."
"What an analogy!"
"You bet."
"Well, why is it suddenly appearing?"
"The food lodged in the back of my throat must've brought it on. Strange, but that's the way it is."
"You're a genius!"
"Yes, and I'm dying too young. I know all about it."
"Why have you always had a tendency to be nasty to your father?"
"I deny any wrongdoing."
"No."
"Yes."
"No ..."
"Hold me."
"I'm here."
And her eyes started to wither, losing their natural blue-pink azure. "This might hopelessly be the end," I conjured, trying to avoid locking it together.
Her form crumpled in the fetus position on the bed, knocking over a blanket. I picked it up and placed it around her: she was shivering. I averted my eyes.
"Help me ... I'm dying ... The pain ... It's too much ... help me."
Pathetic for such a young, beautiful girl to go to waste in such a fashion. For some reason, images of sets of tits, thick, rigid cocks, warm, soft pussy's and The lady who was hot to trot flashed through my brain and I couldn't sort things out for the moment. "Please, lord, help me."
"Huh?"
"Dear god, Jesus ... help me."
"Who ... who are you crying to, my son?"
"Pleeee ... ze ... save ... this ... perfect ... creature ... take me."
Both of them looked at me in horror as I reached for one of the kitchen knives on the wall. I pushed my mother aside, as I knew what I had to do.
"Lord, ... I ... do ... this ... in ... thine ... own ... name ... and ... by ... my ... own ... hand ... so ... that ...this ... willful, ... soulful ... creature ... might ... live."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"What you're doing is useless."
"It's hopeless, but a chance is a chance that I've got to follow."
"I'm dying, but you've got to take care of your own destiny. Come on. You've read Camus, you've read Sartre."
"And they say we are ... entrenched."
"... But that we must go on, nonetheless."
"I've never inferred that."
"You've never looked that deeply into anything, not even yourself."
"How dare you, insolent; when I'm about to give up my life for you."
"You consider that a compliment? Reality wise, it's an insult; that I'm to carry your blame throughout eternity."
"Please, John; put down the knife ... for me."
I threw it down; rather let it slide down and collapsed all into one heap on the floor; bawling my eyes out. I had not the courage to look up and meet their approval or disapproval. I was not fit, an impure one.
Suddenly, an idea came to mind for a story I had been thinking of for a long time. It was great! Suitable for A Broadway musical! If only I could get some exposure!
I WAS A TEEN AGE JERK OFF was the title and in the lead role would be sjfljflkxjflsdf lsjdfkljsdlfkjsdlkh, a no name actor from asdlfnslkflkjflksa, the capital of aslkflsjflajsflkjasfjf. Of course, the prime minister of the country is lsjflksdflk salfjsfjsf and lsdfljfposadfas lkjsadflkjasdfjasldf left lshfajfasdg to escape deadly oppression and the fearsome firing squads.
Anyway, this would be sort of autobiographical about adklfjasofjasljfsa asdfvkljasklfjaslkf, based on his testimony about how it was to live in lasjflsajfg. He managed to escape a death sentence from lsdjflasdflksaff's secret police by disguising himself as a tourist aboard a plane bound for America.
His port of entry was Los Angeles. He jerked off while he was there, read news reports about how his family had been tortured and possibly shot due to his defection. He was a bum and knew it, but that didn't stop him from pursuing his life's passion.
The music part of this comes in just as each of the relatives of our hero, lsafksadflsaf; face the firing squad, they sing an aria of protest. These noble pleas for pardon comprise the latter half of the first act. Prior to that, the whole country has an orgy to commemorate their national holiday; klsjflkasjd kf as is their custom to do so in that manner.
"No," she said and croaked.
"What?"
There was no response. She just laid there, somewhat like a dead fish waiting to go into the fryer. Nothing could save her now; all my theatricality had been entirely for naught; you betcha.
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
We were looking each other in the eye, my mother and I and trying to decide how to handle this. No onrush of extremely emotion seemed imminent. I felt her pulse again, just to make sure; it was certain. She was dead. Now only the question of us remained.
"More."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Hold me."
"I'm here."
"Do you want to diddle?"
"Sure."
I grabbed hold of her terrific set of tits and a tuft of pubic hair. "PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!!" she would be shouting before I knew it, I thought."
Funny how things like death can make your senses so alive. I could smell mom's warm, soft pussy as if we were in a puppy store where all the dogs had pooped all over the floor and it was tended by a forgetful owner.
"Mom! Suck my thick, rigid cock, please." I guided my tool over her juicy, sweet awaiting lips and guided it in. And out and over. Over and down she moved, over and down. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. And in. And out. And in. And out.
I thought I was going to cum and come soon. Over and down she moved, over and down. And in. And out. SO SMOOTH. SO SMOOTH. THIS WAS SURELY HEAVEN, IF NOT HELL.
And in. And out. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. Over and down she moved, over and down. SO SMOOTH did her lapping tongue go over each and every cardioid blood vessel so that it filled itself and almost brimmed over with the pressure of extreme pleasure. I thought I was going to cum and come soon. "Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
I looked down at her aching, warm, soft pussy and got up for a second, the better to adjust myself for the job I was going to have to do to show Mom that I did still appreciate her and that we should continue things. Mary's death did mean something, but she had certainly would have wanted things to be that way, she had expressed so ... so vehemently.
SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED. I LICKED IN AND AROUND THE CURVES OF HER INSIDES. Over and down she moved, over and down. And in. And out. I LICKED IN AND AROUND THE CURVES OF HER INSIDES. Over and down she moved, over and down. SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED.
PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!! PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!! PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!! PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!! PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!!
Her velvety, slippery, textury wetness was slick to the touch as I sensitively grasped what areas she would like to have wooed into the realm of sensuality. I kissed her, as if it was on her lips and I was an explorer. She deserved only the best.
SHE SUCKED AND SUCKED the length of my rod, giving me the same feelings that must have been running through her own mind. I loved her, especially in tender moments like this, when I would be unable to control what was happening inside of me and shot my load of jism all over her set of tits and so that it dripped slowly out of her mouth.
"More."
"I'm coming."
"More."
"I'm coming."
"Me, too."
"Also, I."
This was connoisseur lovemaking, there was no doubt about that. I had slowly come to the conclusion that indeed, there never were as good partners as the ones that were to be found inside the family from which one had been born and raised in.
Mother seemed to believe in this theory, also as she oooooooohed and aaaaaaaaaahed as I entered her; oooooooohed and aaaaaaaaahed. This was sheer pleasure for both of us and I shouted as loud as I could at the top of my lungs, "PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!!"
Probably, the neighbors had heard me, but this time around I didn't care. Things were going to get a little crazy since my sister's unearthly departure, I felt and they might as well get set and used to this new order of things as being for our neighborhood.
I entered her and my prick moved fast. And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out.
Repetitive motion, but one that was both soothing and relaxing, bringing us closer together all the time. This was a private session between the two of us; in weeks to come we would be inveterate swingers and practically I would fuck all the women and mom would gang bang the men in our circle of the world which we came in contact with.
Certain individuals would think her a slut and me a gigolo, but that was not our problem. We did have one, but it was not that. It was in the fact that we knew it was morally wrong, the Oedipal conflict for us to make this loving thing between us a permanent thing that it was genetically dangerous, in fact, but we couldn't help ourselves.
No one could measure up to either of us in bed with the other, even though we had switched partners many times. Our orgasms weren't quite the same at other times with different, other people.
We tried, I assure you and that we merit your pity, although a worthless emotion. We figured that there must be someone in the world for me, everything was just a matter of biding our time. To endure such a hard task, we did not feel it wrong to enjoin our selves during the waiting process.
We immensely enjoyed each other's company and Mom was still in hot shape. She taught me things that girls my own age couldn't possibly have. That is why I have said that she, and she alone was the only possible being able to give me pleasure.
I was hooked, a habit as bad as any drug and in desperate need of psychological care and we could barely afford our rent. Woe is me and us and what would be our dastardly fate one could only try and deduce.
Chapter Nine
Man, oh man. Long sigh. Heavy, desperate situation. Papa's coming home for the funeral. Not that I really care, just that I want to avoid a long, enduring, emotional scene of confrontation.
He practically abandoned us and argued on the way out, spitting beer all over the rug. I ask you; is that any way for a man to act? Be honest with yourself, be truthful and reconsider who he is. Realize the limitations that man has inherent within him and give good grace upon the heavens above.
This advice had been given to me, summarily by my great grandmother when I told her how the family was breaking up. It was a piece of advice that still holds water today, despite the passing of eons.
I wanted a change. Perhaps the thing to do was to just to flee to someplace like Miami. There, I could do a lot of drugs and relax in the shade nonstop.
I hadn't had a real vacation in over four years and it was about time. A chance to get reamed, cleaned, steamed and blow dried by all those teeny boppers who would be hanging out down there for the season, no doubt. That was a course worth pursuing.
Papa was a funny little man, just a bit over five foot five. Mary and I were at least half a foot taller, while Ma was somewhere about the same size.
He sure could hold his whiskey, though. One shot after another, day after day, night after night. Not particularly strong, he would often have to miss days at the loading dock after his drunken nights.
In our neck of the woods, this was not at all unusual. In fact, Pa had quite a few drinking buddies; practically the whole town if one looked at it.
He introduced Mary and I to drinking when we were only six, with a little wine behind Mama's back. When we were thirteen, we responded in kind by introducing him to drugs. He never really caught on, preferring his liquor to anything like that.
"Son?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"I know I'm not the most perfect father in the world and such ..."
"Awwwww shucks, no need to start apologizin' to me now'."
"No, it's just that I want to get a promise out of you that you're gonna be damn careful not to grow up at all like me. Now you hear what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeah, Dad. But, I don't think that I understan' it."
"Never mind. All youse got to do is promise it to me and then I won't beat you. This is important."
"Why?"
"Because this is America and a man has the opportunity to do something with his freakin' life here."
"Why do you sound so ... so bitter?"
"I suppose it's due to the fact that I never got to where I wanted to."
"You're still a psychological role model to me, and you can be sure that I'm not patronizing you at all."
"Good."
"Son?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"Forget it."
This was almost the "oath" of truth that we had between us and was a metaphor for the gap in communication that always existed. I would've cared less, but at that time I didn't have any lovers to relieve the sense of overwhelming tension.
Adolescence was a tough time and even though I blame a lot of it on my Dad, I was of course at fault partly myself. I didn't make the effort to get to know the "right" bunch of people. My fault entirely.
No apologies are necessary from anyone and what is done is done. The point is to look to the future, as embodied so brazenly in the ever existent theory of Existentialism, promulgated by the French.
Things started going awry when Papa brought home his friend Ayatollah and they began practicing with Uzzi machine guns and sabre swords for what they thought was going to be an impending revolution.
The curious thing was that they had no real cause that they believed in. They supported an amalgam of various causes, from freedom fighting for the American Indians to embracing every single Middle Eastern cause partially, even though some of them were at odds with one another; to White supremacy, Fascism, Nazism, the Black Panthers and the JDL.
Not one of these groups, of course would recognize Ayatollah's little sect that was comprised of him, my father and another dork, Bernie. But, embrace hatred and selflessness they did, target practicing in the back yard and writing speeches that they would never get to speak.
One time, they actually did plan an operation. They even asked if I wanted to join in. At that age, however I had already become an extremist liberal and wanted no part of it. Several times I had even called the local police and warned of the secret cache of guns and ammunition that was being stored on the property, but they never paid much notice and the meetings and practice of the sick club went on.
Operation "Intermezzo" was geared specifically towards standing up and siding with Solidarinosc, the Polish labor organization. My father, Ayatollah and Bernie planned to occupy the South Street Seaport on a crowded weekend night sometime soon.
They thought it was an ingenious plan and on the weekend; they knew that South Street Seaport was crowded with tons and tons of nameless and faceless yuppies.
No group, according to VBfkdkekgjlskdj was more depriving to labor than the yuppies. The masses would stand up and cheer when they heard of the senseless Intermezzo "slaughter" at South Street Seaport.
Their goal was nothing less than the closing of every "charcuterie" and sushi place on the upper west side and the opening in place of them of Italian groceries. South Street Seaport was the slated target, because of the abundance of charcuteries in the tourist trap and the slew of yuppie patrons.
"Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs. Yuppie pigs," they started shouting on that fateful day.
"Intermezzo. Intermezzo. Intermezzo. Intermezzo. Intermezzo. Intermezzo. Intermezzo. Intermezzo," went up the subsequent chant from Ayatollah, my father and the shmuck called Bernie.
"Fuck you, we want to eat," came back some of the retorts and, "Go back to the gutter where you came from." Such sentiments were not lost on VBfkdkekgjlskdj, the rebel alliance that would fight to the end.
From out of a yacht anchored on the pier, a group of riot police emerged and shot, killing Ayatollah, injuring Bernie and just grazing my father. A couple of innocent bystanders got the ever-lovin' shit fuckin' goddamn kicked out of themselves.
"Help."
"Die, yuppie pigs."
"Fascists."
"Leave us alone, we want to eat. Go back to the sewers."
"Hey, you knocked over my plate of tortellini, or was it linguini?"
"Die, VBfkdkekgjlskdj."
"Never."
My father grabbed up what was left of Bernie and the two of them fled to god knows where. We had never heard of them again until now, except for an occasional picture postcard with either a Canadian or Mexican address. To tell the truth, I was rather glad to get rid of the motley bunch, particularly my father.
This was the first death in the family, at least as far as the rest of us were concerned about the meaning of it. Nothing could be farther from the truth, though. Here he was, come back to haunt us.
Occasionally, the cards we would get would read like so:
"Wish you were here."
Other times:
"Miss you."
Each time, there was no signature, of course. Probably, he thought that the house was being monitored or closely watched by the CIA; but I thought that that was a highly doubtful proposition.
This was a typical conversation that I or my sister would have while growing up alone in Lower Slobbovia:
"Mom?"
"Yes."
"Is Dad coming back?"
"I don't know."
"Why?"
"Don't ask so many questions."
"Where did he go?"
"You heard me."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
Not only were we not able to communicate with my father, but with each other. It was a dismal state of affairs and one which seemed would not be remedied.
Who cared?
It was only later on when Jane, my father's secretary would come in years later that I would learn the full story about him, Bernie, Ayatollah and Intermezzo.
She was his lover, it seemed and was the one who convinced him of it. After the death of Mary, I saw her for the second time in my life and looked brazenly at her.
"Oh, John. You are looking so very handsome these days."
"You to, Jane."
"Thank you."
We each knew what we wanted and went after each other. I had lied in my original statement. Jane was not that good looking, although a certain amount of sex appeal did seem to ooze out of her tight clothing.
She always wore those sort of pants that would hug her ass and show off her disproportionately skinny legs. Her face wasn't so hot, but she had a body that just wouldn't quit. It would drive men wild.
Also impressive were her thick, round boobs that jutted out of her top. Not literally, just in relation to the rest of herself. God knows how many people in my father's office had wondered how ruby red her nipples were and wanted to squeeze the heck out of them until they expanded double their size.
This was, of course a conservative estimate. I'm sure that given the right opportunity and the right partner, that those ruby-red nipples would expand to three or four times their size and I ached to be the one to prove the ability and the worthiness of the task.
Her cry in orgasm was most probably a loud shriek, although soft. She had the demeanor of a woman who has not had sex in quite some time and is waiting for a "real man" to unleash the passion.
I, of course was just the soul to do such a thing. We talked for a little while. She enjoyed small talk, it was clear and I wanted to make sure the circumstances were right to make her come and come again maybe three, maybe four, maybe more time.
"You must exercise"
"I do."
"You have probably loved very many young, beautiful women."
"I have."
"Do I know them?"
"Probably not."
"I think maybe."
"I doubt it."
"Nadine."
"You don't know her."
"I do."
"Prove it."
"She was an extremist member of VBfkdkekgjlskdj, your father and Ayatollah knew her quite well, I tell you."
"You're bullshitting."
"You think I would lie simply because I want you to fuck me?"
"Yes."
"I might be one to lower myself to say that I'm not exactly oversexed at the present moment, you might know."
"It's all right."
We looked at each other deeply and intently. Jane was slightly sweaty and my panting must've seemed obvious. She raised one of her armpits and a musty liquid drained down slowly, onto the arm of the chair.
"You know, me and your father were ... intimate?"
"I know." The honest person would have told her that my father was going to be at Mary's funeral, but I felt that I didn't owe the two of them anything. Besides, I had abstained for the last couple of days from sex in a self-imposed state of mourning, and it seemed this was as good a time as there was ever going to be to make up for lost time.
She obviously concurred with the thoughts and our bio rhythms were on the jive, because she said to me:
"Do you find me attractive?"
"Immensely and sexy, too."
"Would you like to fuck me?"
Thank god for the honesty of guerrillas. This was going to be a cinch, easier than I had expected.
"I think so."
"Do you think so, or know so? I wouldn't want to badger you."
"I assure you, the pleasure would indeed be both of ours."
"Good."
She opened her blouse and those thirty eight inchers popped out at me, a sight for eyes as sore as mine. I slowly approached, cautiously to tease her a bit. This might be an extended love affair, who knows?
I worried that she could handle such a thing, though. I knew that she had been quite a lady in my father's day, but that was almost five years ago. Since then, she had approached middle aged and was almost a different person, almost indistinguishable.
I wanted fun, though and was not about to worry about such fine points at the moments. Particularly with those nice, pert nibbles staring up at me, saying: "Grab me!"
I put each one of them in-between my first finger and my thumb, tweaking gently to squeeze them out a bit at first. They responded gracefully, like little ballerinas doing pirouettes who are experiencing delicate little moments of ecstasy.
They whispered gently: "Give us pleasure," and I acceded to their requests. Who was I to deny such a lovely, sexy, horny so obviously horny and in heat?
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"It meant to."
I kept up the rhythm, tweaking gently here and there while I began to explore the rest of those colossal, marvelous organs that would belong in a museum.
"I love you."
It is strange how in all my experience with swingers, they are so quick to murmur those words. She, it was obvious though hadn't had an experience of pleasure in years. I was a hero coming to the rescue. A knight in shining armor, Sir Arthur.
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"It is my pleasure to give you such pleasure, my darling."
The bottoms of her set of tits were nice and smooth, milky white and I pressed my hands into them, like a baker kneading a fresh, soft piece of dough. She moaned and beckoned my head in a sort of "come hither" type of grasp that meant she wanted to be sucked. I started to caress her set of tits with my tongue.
I wanted to give her as much pleasure as I could and so worked one of my fingers down to her oozing full of juices cunt. She was having too much fun on top, though and took my hand back and placed it where it had been previously massaging her right tit.
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"Good."
"PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!!"
I could hardly believe it. Experienced as I was, in all my years I had never given, nor seen a woman experience an orgasm just through pleasure given to her set of tits. This was a historical occasion.
"Oooooh, that feels good."
She grabbed my dick and pulsated, releasing it in spasms in accordance to her rocks of pleasure. Meanwhile, I sucked for all I was worth, so as to give her a feeling of pleasure for all it was worth.
"I thought I was going to cum and come soon, just looking at her."
"PLEASE!!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!!" she shouted again, in sheer ecstasy. She grabbed my thick, rigid cock once more and for the heck of it, I inserted my index finger as far as it would go inside her juicy, deep, warm, soft pussy.
"Oooooh, that feels good."
By this time the expression seemed rather corny, but I liked it all the same. I quickly dropped my pants and stuck my thick, aching rod up into her neat box.
The little man at the bridge stood up to greet me with a smile. All the while, in and out I sucked on her tits, up and around. I went over to her nipples and gave them playful, doggish little nibbles.
She giggled. She was holding the top of the bed and raised her legs higher so that I could get in as deep as I could. I appreciated the extra effort she was making, so I held up my end. I started forcefully ramming myself in and out, fucking for all that I was ever worth, a form of exercise.
This was heaven and hell, who knew. Which would rule pleasure, if there were such domain, anyway. I felt just as good as I ever had with my sister or mother, even better because it was guilt-free totally.
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"I'm so glad, baby. You and me will have big plans together. We were meant for each other. Perhaps we could run away together and do live sex shows."
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"Would you like that? Huh? Wouldn't that be good? We'd be a team. You and me, together for eternity depending upon our bodies for income purposes."
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"We'd be like runaways, only not runaways. We'd be giving up any sort of privileges of being bourgeois for ultimate pleasure, losing all of our hang-ups."
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"I know it." I was ramming deeper and deeper, trying to scratch the bottom of this vast organ. The bed squeaked noisily as the two of us rocked back and forth. This was the same woman as my father had enjoyed.
"I'm coming."
"Come inside me, come inside me. I love your thick, rigid cock."
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"I'm coming."
"Good."
"PLEASE!! HELP ME!! I'M COMING!!"
"Fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me deeper."
"I'm coming, I'm coming ... I'm coming."
I pulled out and shot my wad all over her body, face and tits. She laughed gleefully and started rubbing the stuff, bathing in it and languishing the stickiness. I pulled myself up and kissed her fully. This was it, primordinate conception at its peak.
Chapter Ten
We became lovers from that point on regularly, unbeknownst to my father. They had quite a row when they were together again, for the first in a long time:
"You slut."
"You fagot."
"I hate you."
"Why did you abandon me?"
"It's all your fault."
"My fault?"
"You heard me."
"Oh, you're just a washed up old timer, that's all."
"Fucked you."
It was fun to sit in the other room and hear them go at it. I loved them both, even my father. They just seemed so foolish, like kids arguing the rules of some primitive game. Not at all like two former revolutionaries.
It's hard to believe that one or the other of them was at one time engaged in violent proceedings against the state. Didn't they realize that such overt, small-scale manipulations were only doomed to large-scale types of realized failure?
Alas, some things never changed in people. Here I was, spying on them. The real reason was my penchance for voyeurism, which was never satiated. In spite of that, I was observing deeply latent qualities of human nature which are ordinarily hard to isolate by themselves. A controlled experiment.
I wonder what both of them were thinking specifically about me. My father said something when he saw me in person for the first time in ten years:
"My, how you've grown."
I answered:
"Yeah." I really felt like ripping the man's goddamn thick beard right off his face, that's how much hatred I was feeling at the moment towards him. Nothing can cure, at least partially wounds like time, though. Miraculously, I was able to restrain myself.
"You fucking much, boy?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No reason."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"We're do you come off trying to dispense fatherly advice now?"
"Manners, boy!"
"Hypocrite!"
"Why, I've a good mind to take you over my knee and spank you."
"Just try and you're gonna wind up with a knife up you."
"Whoa!"
"Just try!"
"Whoa!"
"Don't you dare try and tell me what to do, old man."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," my father said in response.
This, according to his viewpoint was the beginning of a new relationship. We should let bygones be bygones in the wake of Mary's death, by golly.
I, though was of quite a different mind. It was not so easy to forget the hate that Mary and I had jointly experienced during childhood. And, even though they were horrid, this man standing here had no rights to intrude upon them. He was not my father.
"Get away."
"I'm your father."
"No you're not."
"Are you crazy?"
"GETAWAY!!!!"
I guess he rationalized me as irrational from that point on and left me alone, except for once during the sermon when he tried to put his hand on my shoulder and I quickly brushed the scaly, greasy lever away. I wanted nothing to do with him.
The priest's eulogy:
"Mary was a good girl ... a credit to her family ... and the family ... I knew her ... she was just as much beautiful on the inside as she appeared on the outside ... noted for outstanding community work ... and a leader in her school ... an honor student!
... In short, a girl who had everything to live for ... It is unfortunate
when things of this nature strike so suddenly, seeming to send those near and dear to the individual so out of proportion; but ... It is at times like these that we must put our all, our faith into the lord, our god ... and remember, ... the lord giveth ... and the lord taketh away ... Amen ...
Good night and god bless ... to all of you decent folks here."
Everyone was crying. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. The priest had given an inspiring sermon, however and we felt like we could live on. We had Mary's spirit to guide us. A few of us believed this, anyway. The rest thought it a hunk of shit.
I packed up my bags afterward and got ready to leave with Jane. She had thought my plan a good one and was excited with the concept of living a "wild life" again. The last couple of days before our departure were filled with orgies with her, myself, my mothers, swinger friend's of Jane's and some of the neighbors that we had finally coaxed into it.
Jane turned out always to be the instigator at these gatherings, teaching us things that we had never known before and both of us going over to the house of a couple who I told her that possibly "might be interest." There, she would do a striptease, claiming "it was hot" in order to get the man excited and before anyone knew it, I was massaging her tits.
Right there, in front of people who ordinarily gave off a straight type of appearance. The thing was, that our behavior was so outlandish, so weird, so bizarre that they usually pretended not to notice.
Jane then went over usually, while I was massaging to massage one of the neighbor's wife's tits, oohing and ahhing in "the marvelous spectacle that they were."
I must admit that she was a real trooper and that we made many convert swingers and I sampled quite a bit of fresh nookie before we left Lower Slobbovia. Opportunity awaited us on the road, though and we left. It was a comfort to at last get off.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
We had adopted this vow that Mary and I used to have as our own; we thought that she probably would have liked it that way. As to mine and mother's code:
"Love is ..."
"Sheer joy."
"And orgasm."
That we all unanimously agreed should remain as only between mother and me. We all said that we would visit soon, and we took off one Thursday morning in the month of June at the crack of dawn.
It was a beautiful, gorgeous day. We were on the road! I could still hardly believe it! The two of us! Out there in the midst of danger like runaways!!! This was the life that all should be destined to lead.
"Where do you want to go today, honey, lovey, dear?"
"Oh, I don't mind."
"You must have some idea."
"Nah."
"You sure."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"I'm coming."
"Not sexually, though?"
"No ..."
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"What does?"
"Nothing."
"I mean ..."
"What?"
"No, forget it."
"No, what?"
"Nothing important."
"As lovers, we should be prepared to share every little thing that comes across our minds at all times."
"Okay, tell me a secret."
"Why?"
"Boy, are you a hypocrite."
"Okay ..."
"Well, go ahead."
"You sure, absolutely that you want me to go ahead?"
"GO AHEAD."
"All right."
"Hmmmmm."
"Take it easy, calm down. My secret is that I have this phone lover. Her name is ... well ..."
"More."
"Ayatollah."
"Come on!"
"The lady who was hot to trot."
"For real?"
"For real,"
"You swear?"
"For real, I swear her name was The lady who was hot to trot."
"The lady who was hot to trot?"
"The lady who was hot to trot."
"What an unusual name."
"You can say that again."
"What an unusual name."
"I didn't mean literally."
"Sorry."
She opened her blouse and those thirty eight inchers popped out at me, a sight for eyes as sore as mine. I slowly approached, cautiously to tease her a bit. This might be an extended love affair, who knows?
I worried that she could handle such a thing, though. I knew that she had been quite a lady in my father's day, but that was almost five years ago. Since then, she had approached middle aged and was almost a different person, almost indistinguishable.
I wanted fun, though and was not about to worry about such fine points at the moments. Particularly with those nice, pert nibbles staring up at me, saying: "Grab me!"
I put each one of them in-between my first finger and my thumb, tweaking gently to squeeze them out a bit at first. They responded gracefully, like little ballerinas doing pirouettes who are experiencing delicate little moments of ecstasy.
They whispered gently: "Give us pleasure," and I acceded to their requests. Who was I to deny such a lovely, sexy, horny so obviously horny and in heat?
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"It meant to."
I kept up the rhythm, tweaking gently here and there while I began to explore the rest of those colossal, marvelous organs that would belong in a museum.
"I love you."
It is strange how in all my experience with swingers, they are so quick to murmur those words. She, it was obvious though hadn't had an experience of pleasure in years. I was a hero coming to the rescue. A knight in shining armor, Sir Arthur.
"Oooooh, that feels good."
"It is my pleasure to give you such pleasure, my darling."
"Heh-heh-heh."
"Wait a minute. That wasn't in the real story, I think."
"How do you know?"
"Because that's about us having sex. That was our first time together. I remember it vividly, yeah."
"You do?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, how about this:
The phone rang. Guess who it was. That's right, The lady who was hot to trot. I couldn't believe it.
"Hello."
"Guess who."
"Is it really?"
"You're damned straight."
"The lady who was hot to trot!"
"Not in person, but on the phone."
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"Your sister?"
"Okay." I said this harshly, not wanting to give us away.
"That's good to hear."
"Thank you." Again, I made care to say this stolidly.
"Are you ready, big boy for my warm, soft pussy again?"
"You bet, you sensuous, slippery The lady who was hot to trot."
"I love it when you call me that, Mr. Very Big Dong."
Wanting to get her hot and juicy, I repeated my last phrase that she had so enjoyed. "The lady Who was hot to trot." I could hear the heavy breathing.
"I want ... to suck ... your big ... dong ... and have ... you cream ... between ... my big, sensitive breasts."
"Go ahead."
"I'm deep throating you."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"My warm, soft pussy is getting extremely, extremely hot."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"My tongue is languishing as deep as it can get."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"I'm exploring your inner recesses. Your cheeks are so delicate, and so smooth, cavernous and soft."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"I'm sticking my finger in my warm, soft pussy to wet myself."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"Do something to me."
"I'm taking your finger out of your warm, soft pussy and kissing your hand, then replacing mine deep inside."
"Mmmmmm, good."
"Is it pleasurable?"
"I love it."
"Do you want me?"
"Yahhhhhhs."
"I'm tracing the outline of your perked up nipples with my tongue ... spreading saliva ... I'm now going from the top down to the bottom over ... and over ... and over ... and over again."
"Please, more."
"Okay, you asked for it."
"Please, more."
"I'm going up and down again and over and over again. I can feel your mounds responding to my touch. The odor of the room is wafting with warm, soft pussy juice, but I will torture you and not enter yet."
"Please, more."
"I don't know."
"Please, more."
"I'm looking at your delicate, pretty little face and touching your cheeks. You are so warm, so beautiful."
"Please, more."
"I give you a full kiss on the lips just to show you just how much I love you. I kiss you over and over again."
"Don't stop."
"I had no intention of doing so. You are a bad, little girl and you must be punished. All this while, I am fingering your warm, soft pussy all over."
"Don't stop."
"It is a beautiful pussy, I must admit and one that has been my victim numerous times. I have entered it, gliding in, and out. And in. And out."
"Please, I am a woman who craves pleasure. I beg of you, enter me. Be one with me. I love you, please."
"I am entering you. My prick is guided gently by your hand to your gaping slit. I go in gently, you are softly it goes. I go in ... and out. And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out."
"Don't stop."
"And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out."
"Don't stop."
"And in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out."
"Your dick is so very, very big. I never had one this big. Please, I think that I am going to burst. Pull out, but you're giving me so much pleasure."
"I will make you a woman."
"More."
"I'm coming."
"More."
"I'm coming."
"More."
"My prick guides easily and I'm beginning to get more and more turned on by the sight of you like a bitch in heat. I'm playing with your tits at this moment and the blood vessels are about to burst. I don't know how you are able to take it any longer. They are about to burst, please help yourself. I don't mean to hurt you, only give pleasure."
"More."
"I explode. My cum shoots straight into you and I relax. This is a good load and I experience an orgasm in your inner recesses. I can feel your arms around me and your nails digging deep into my back."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
"How about that?"
"It was pretty good."
"There's more, but I don't think it would interest you."
"You bastard,"
She was really quite pretty, out there in the brazen sun, with her blouse half open and carrying a knapsack. Sort of like a Swedish mountain girl, almost.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Always."
"Lovers."
We were together to stay. Some would say that we were almost like homeless folks, but we didn't care. It may even have seemed sad to some folks who saw us begging at every other town for food, like mongrels.
Those who hated us were wrong, though. We were to be pitied, we were to be despaired, but there was no reason for hate. We were vagrants by choice and received no means of public assistance. Those that hated us could clearly have only one motivation: jealousy.
Strange how this may seem, it was quite prevalent in middle America, home of Conservatives and Republicans. We despised all of them, even Democrats for trying to tell us how we should run our lives. If anything at all, we were Anarchists.
One commie bastard local yokel sheriff in some small, little hick town even jailed us. Said we were "hippies", or something. God fuckin' knows what he was.
Anyway, all that he was trying to do was to try and extort money for drinkin' from us. We probably would've paid it, but we didn't have it anyways. The only thing to do was to wait out our sentences: eight days.
This wouldn't have been such a bad thing. We could've sucked and fucked up a storm, gotten meals and a clean, safe place to do it in. As an extra, added turn on, we would've had voyeurs. Very active, masturbating ones who would've appreciated a show.
But, no such luck. They placed us in separate cells, as if anticipating such a nonviolent demonstration. I must say that they were pretty scared of us. In the end, they just let us out five days early, without payin' the fine and just told us never to step foot into the county ever again.
Believe me, they didn't have to tell us twice. We had our vows and ourselves to live on and that's exactly what we did.
EPILOGUE
John saw her walking down the beach about a year later, after taking a home near the shore, and it was love at first sight. She was young.
Criminally young.
John figured that the girl couldn't be a day over sixteen. He could tell by her preciously cute face. He could not tell by her body-because there could be no doubt that the girl had the body of a woman. John could feel himself getting sexually charged up the instant he saw her.
His balls ached.
His loins ached.
His thighs grew hot.
His cock grew.
Harder.
Thicker.
Longer.
He got up off of his blanket and approached her. She spotted him too. She thought he was some kind of hunk. But she was cool. She pretended that she didn't even SEE him until he was right upon her, his shadow falling upon her deliciously shaped tits.
She was not very big.
It would have been an understatement to call her diminutive. She stood only a fraction of an inch over five feet tall.
She had never weighed more than one-hundred pounds in her entire life. Her hair was very light blonde. John could see that her hair had been bleached to a near white hue with its exposure to the hot golden rays of the sunshine.
Her hair was long.
It spilled gracefully over her smooth shoulders and down her back, thickest of all between her rather sharp shoulder blades.
Her hair was parted in the center, revealing a straight line of pink scalp. She was wearing a string bikini.
Big tits.
Flat belly.
Round hips.
Dainty feet.
Long red nails.
Doll-like face.
"Hi," John said.
"Who are you?"
"Name is John."
"Nice name."
"What's yours?"
"Roberta Jean."
"They call you Bobby?"
"They call me Roberta Jean."
"Oh."
"You live around here?" the pretty little girl said.
"For the time being? You?"
"I have a hotel room nearby."
"Staying with your folks?"
"I'm on my own for the week."
"Dynamite. Wanna hang out?"
"Sure. Wanna take a swim?"
"I think I had better."
"That's quite a bulge in your trunks."
"You are having a profound effect on me."
"Maybe we should skip the swim."
"Wanna go straight to your room."
"Sounds good."
"You pick up many guys on the beach?"
"No."
"I don't believe that."
"It's true. You are my first."
"You're kidding."
"Nope, I am a virgin," she said.
"Come on!"
"I'll prove it to you, John."
"How?"
"I'll let you pop my cherry."
"Holy shit!"
Roberta Jean laughed.
* * *
"Nice room," the handsome man said.
"It does the job," the pretty little girl said.
"Let's get naked," the handsome man said.
"That won't be hard. We aren't wearing much in the first place," the pretty little girl said.
She took off her strong bikini and stretched out on her back on the bed with her legs spread. She was breathing hard.
Roberta Jean could feel her passion having an effect on her respiratory system. She could feel her breaths getting steadily shorter and closer together. She was panting. She could tell that her breathing was going to continue to grow more ragged with her lust until she sounded and felt as if she were purposefully attempting to hyperventilate herself.
"Why me?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You are a virgin, right?"
"Yes."
"Why do you want me to be your first lover?"
"You were in the right place at the right time," the pretty little girl said.
"I see."
"I woke up this morning, well, in the mood," the pretty little girl said.
"Far out."
"I want you to believe me. Feel my cunt. Feel my hymen," the pretty little girl said.
"Okay."
John ran the tips of his fingers up and down the insides of her thighs. Roberta Jean stretched her thighs open until she could feel a tugging in the muscles.
She opened her inner thighs past a right angle to an obtuse angle.
"I can feel my pussy getting swollen," the pretty little girl said.
"I can see that your cunt is getting wet," the handsome man said.
"My clit is turning into a feminine erection," the pretty little girl said.
"I can see the fiery bulb bulging," the handsome man said.
"It is pushing out from under the fleshy sheath," the handsome man said.
"I feel my clitoral foreskin being pushed upward," the pretty little girl said.
"You are having trouble staying still," the handsome man said.
"I cannot help it. I need to writhe," the pretty little girl said.
He rubbed her cunt.
He attempted penetration with his right middle finger.
"Feels so good," she said.
"I feel your cherry."
"I was telling the truth."
"You are so precious. Like an angel."
"I don't feel like an angel, John," the pretty little girl said.
"No?"
"No, I feel like I have the devil in my heart," the pretty little girl said.
John crawled between her legs and sniffed at Roberta Jean's cunt.
"How do I smell?"
"Wonderful."
"You like the scent?"
"I am intoxicated by it."
"Really?"
"I am drunk with lust."
"Dynamite," she said.
"I want to TASTE you!"
"You want to eat my cunt?"
"Thoroughly."
"Do it!" she squealed.
"Okay!" John said eagerly and enthusiastically.
He licked and kissed at her inner thighs. He pulled her cunt lips open. He licked at her outer cunt lips and then in between the inner and outer labia. John worked his tongue between her inner lips. He tongued her piss hole. He licked downward and hooked his tongue beneath the base of her pubic bone. He plunged his tongue into her cunt and pressed the tip of his suddenly stiffened taster against her hymen.
He stretched her cherry taut against his tongue and then withdrew.
"How does it feel?"
"Ohhhhhhhh."
"Does that mean good?"
"Good is not the word!"
"What is the word?"
"It feels GREAT!"
"I'm glad."
"Unbelievable."
"Good."
"It feels better than anything I have ever felt before," she said.
She found it IMPOSSIBLE to keep her lower body still. Roberta Jean rocked back and forth, back and forth. She shifted the weight of her lower torso from one ass cheek to the other and then back again. Every once in a while her femininely shaped loins bucked upward toward the ceiling of the beach-side hotel room.
* * *
He licked her clit.
"So good!" she screamed.
He licked lightly.
"So fucking good!" she said.
He placed the tip of his tongue on her clit and left it there. John rolled Roberta Jean's little man in the boat in a series of slow sensuous circles and then flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth across it.
"You, you are going to make me come!" the pretty little girl said.
John licked very gingerly at her love button at first.
"You are going to make me come HARD!" the pretty little girl said.
John licked a little bit more firmly at Roberta Jean's fiery bulb.
"You are going to make me come harder than I have ever come before!"
John licked VERY firmly at Roberta Jean's throbbing clit
"COMING! COMING! COMING!" the pretty little girl said.
She thrashed her head wildly from side to side as if she were saying no over and over again-as if she were purposefully attempting to injure her neck. John could tell that he was going to have to be increasingly agile with his head and shoulders if he hoped to keep his lips and his tongue precisely where he wanted them at all times.
"OHHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH!" the pretty little girl said.
John sucked her clit.
He kept his tongue busy.
He licked and sucked together.
John didn't stop until her come was through.
Then he climbed right on top of her.
"I need you inside my cunt, I need your cock inside my cunt."
"Yes, baby."
"I need to be fucked, I need to be fucked so DEEP!" the pretty little girl said.
"Okay."
"Ohhhhhhhh, I have waited so long for this moment, John."
"The wait is through."
She could feel his balls resting against her cunt. The entire length of his cock was throbbing between their stomachs. She tried to point her knees in opposite directions, and when she found this impossible she hugged at the sides of John's masculinely narrow hips with the insides of her femininely tapered thighs.
She draped her arms across his back.
She scratched his back with red nails.
She clutched the man who was about to become her first full-fledged lover with all four of her limbs simultaneously.
* * *
He lifted his loins.
"There is something we should talk about," the handsome man said.
"What?"
It is going to hurt when I pop your cherry," John said.
"I don't care."
"No?"
"Nope."
"How come?"
"The pain will be worthwhile," the pretty little girl said.
"How so?"
"The pain of my cherry being popped is going to open up for me a lifetime of pleasure," the pretty little girl said.
"True."
"Besides, I can tell you are going to be gentle with me," she said.
"I promise that I won't hurt you anymore than I have to."
"I appreciate that."
"I will push my cock into you very slowly," the handsome man said.
"Thanks."
The young man lifted his loins away from hers. His legs were stretched out toward the foot of the bed. His legs were straight-locked straight at the knee.
He placed the palms of his hands flat on the bed on either side of Roberta Jean's head. His fingers were parted.
Her tits were crushed against his chest.
John could feel her nipples throbbing against the front of his masculine upper torso. He got up on his toes, taking the weight off of his knees. He lifted the base of his cock from her mound.
Roberta Jean's mound was covered with blonde fur-hair that was every bit as light as the hair on her head.
Only the tip of his cock was touching her at that point.
The tip of John's prick was throbbing against a spot half-way in between the top of Roberta Jean's mound and her concave and dimpled belly button.
Then John supported the weight of his upper torso with his left arm exclusively. He lifted his upper torso so that only Roberta Jean's nipples were touching his chest. Roberta Jean's tits were allowed to return to their normal shape. He reached back with his right hand and made a tight fist around the shaft of his pecker. John gave the stem of his prick three experimental squeezes just to make sure that his dick was as hard and thick and urgently erect as possible. John had nothing to worry about-at least not in the erection department. His cock could have gotten no harder, no thicker.
He used his right hand to guide the tip of his cock to her cunt.
"My pussy, my pussy is so fucking hot," the pretty little girl said.
"Easy, baby. It will hurt less if you relax," the handsome man said.
"How can I relax when I am so excited?" the pretty little girl said.
'Try."
"Okay."
John rubbed the tip of his cock against her love button.
"That feels good."
"You have felt nothing yet, Roberta Jean," the handsome man said.
"No?"
"Your pleasure will be intense once the pain of having your cherry popped fades."
"I hope so."
The man then ran the bulbous purple head of his cock up and down the entire length of her cunt. John did this for several reasons.
For one thing, it felt VERY good for both of them when he caressed her cunt with his cock in that super-sensuous manner.
But there was a more important reason.
He wanted to cover his cock head with her juice. John was smart enough and sexually experienced enough-following his incestuous history-to know that the initial penetration of Roberta Jean's virginal poontang would be easier, easier for both of them, if both his pole and her hole were wet and slippery.
He then pushed the head of his cock down to the base of her pussy. He wiggle his ass cheeks from side to side and worked the tip of his pole in between her protruding and slightly curled back inner cunt lips.
He then adjusted his lower torso, jack-knifing a little at the waist, moving his ass cheeks back about three inches, so that the shaft of his pecker was at the appropriate angle for deep-vaginal penetration.
The little girl tried to relax the muscles at the sides of her vulva. It did not do a hell of a lot of good. Roberta Jean found that she was SO excited that she was having trouble relaxing any part of her body-and she was having the least luck of all trying to relax the part of her that was directly under attack. John tensed the muscles in the cheeks of his ass and pressed his buttocks together as tightly as he could get him. His ass cheeks turned as hard as rock. He had his ass cheeks pressed together so tightly that Roberta Jean correctly assumed the world's strongest man would not have been able to pry them apart-even if he were allowed to use a crow bar.
* * *
He began to push.
He pushed hard.
She did not open.
She began to panic.
She began to fear that his cock was too big to fit inside her, that she and this stranger from the beach were attempting something that was physically impossible, like putting a square peg in a round hole.
He did not panic.
He knew what to do.
John knew that there was only one thing that was going to get his thick cock in her cunt. BRUTE FORCE!
Luckily, brute force was something of which John had plenty.
He took a deep breath and filled his lungs with air. Then he grunted out the air and stabbed downward with his masculinely narrow lower torso as hard as he could. She opened, all right. Her cunt opened further than it had ever opened before. The tip of his cock was against her cherry.
He stabbed again.
POP!
There went her cherry.
"OWWWWWWWWW!" she screamed.
"Easy, baby."
"It hurts!"
"I know."
He kept pushing. Her pain faded. Her pleasure grew. He pushed his cock deeper and deeper into her cunt.
He pushed his cock all the way into her. She could feel the tip of his cock touching her cervix. She could feel the tip of his cock touching the very mouth of her womb.
She could feel the tip of his cock snug against the rear wall of her tunnel of lust. John began to fuck her.
He fucked slow.
Then medium.
Then fast.
John fucked Roberta Jean's steaming cunt until they both came simultaneously. She screamed with joy as he spilled his steamy spunk inside her CUNT!
