Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 

   3.  You scratch mine, I'll scratch yours.

   The next few days were very strange for me.  I kept trying to avoid my
sister, yet she seemed to keep appearing.  She would show up in my room
"just to talk." Or when I was downstairs watching TV, she would show up and
sit in the couch next to me.  Not really close, but she would just let
herself fall down and sometimes tip over and flop on me.  Like it was an
accident.

   But other than trying to avoid her, I found her more pleasant to be
around.  Maybe it was because I wasn't always trying to get her mad.  Maybe
it was because of the way she looked at me.  Or at least how I felt when
she looked at me.  Like I was naked.  It's hard to pick on a sister when
you feel naked.

   She sure seemed a lot more touchy, as well.  Although, again, that may
be because I wasn't taking swings at her anymore.  She didn't do much, just
little pats on the arm, muss my hair, whack my on the butt like she was a
football player.

   Things were getting kind of normal.  I was getting used to her as
someone who could see through my clothes and I think she was getting used
to me as someone who wouldn't punch her in the stomach without warning.

   We were just finishing supper.  Our dad was on the road again so it was
just Mom, me and my sister.  I was just getting up when Mom said, "Don't
forget to empty the dishwasher before you load it"

   I didn't let her see my glare.  That was one of my favorite tricks, not
emptying the dishwasher when my sister was due for a turn.

   My mom added to my sister, "And you, young lady, wipe the table down
after you clear it.  And leave my wine glass, I might have another glass
later." Right.  She did like her wine, especially when my dad was gone.

   "Ah, Mom," my sister said, "I have to go to the mall."

   My mom gave her a suspicious glance.  "Fine, just take care of your
chores first."

   "Hey," she said to me as I stood in front of the dishwasher.  "How about
clearing the table for me."

   "No way."

   "I'll take a turn for you."

   "Nope.  I want to get out of here, too."

   She paused a second then said, "Ok, I'll scratch your back for you.  How
about that?"

   "How long?"

   "Five minutes?" I just shook my head.  Finally she said, "Ten minutes?"

   I kept silent for a bit, hoping she'd up the time again, but she just
asked me if I would.  So I agreed.

   She jumped up from her chair saying, "Thank you, thank you.  You're my
hero."

   She came behind me and leaned her head over my shoulder.  Her boob was
against the back of my arm and her breath was warm on my ear.

   It suddenly got hot as she whispered, "But you have to be naked to get
it."

   I know my face was red as I turned to say something to her disappearing
back, but I couldn't think of anything both relevant and practical to say
in front of the MOM..

   I finished the dishes and my sister's stupid table stuff, then went
outside.  Down the block and across from school there would be a football
game going.  I hurried out the door and down the street.

   The game was good.  I played quarterback for awhile, but mostly pass
defense and receiver.  Sometimes, though, I was a pass rusher.  You didn't
have to be big to rush the passer in our games.  You only had to be quick.
I had plenty of that.

   I feel pretty good, although once when I was tackling the quarter back.
I ripped a piece out of the knee of my jeans.  And, upon closer inspection,
also a piece of my knee.  It looked cool.  But I was worried about the
jeans.  My mom would give me hell about that.

   We played until it became too dark to see the ball.  By the time I got
back it was completely dark.  A little late for me to be home.  I hoped my
mom wasn't waiting around for me because of the jeans I had wrecked.  I
could deal with her better tomorrow when she wasn't drinking.

   I moved through the kitchen quietly.  My mom was in her bedroom.  I
stock me head around the corner, my legs and torn jean out of sight.  "I'm
home mom."

   "Okay, thanks.  Where were you?" She took a drink for the glass next to
her bed.  The wine bottle was also there.

   "By the school, playing football." I held up one arm to show the dirt
and grass stains.

   She shook her head but smiled.  "I wish you wouldn't do that, someday
you'll come home with a broken leg."

   "Maybe," I smiled, never taking her too seriously, "then I bet I'd be in
trouble."

   "Yes you well.  Going to bed now?"

   "Yeah, I guess."

   "G'night," she said.  "I'm kind of sleepy, too.  See you in the morning.
And close the door will you?"

   I said good night, shut the door and went of stairs.  A dim light was
shining from somewhere along the upstairs hall.  That meant my sister was
already home.  I went up the stairs and headed towards my sister's door
from where the light was coming from.  I thought it was time I could
collect on my promised back-scratch.

   Just as I was passing the bathroom door, it swung open and nearly scared
me to death.  My sister looked out, her towel wrapped around her body.

   "Oh," she said, "I though you were mom."

   "She's downstairs...you want her?"

   "No.  I just didn't know you were home."

   "Well, I am.  Lucky you." She just gave me one of those looks and
started to shut the door.  "Hey," I said, "what about my back scratch."

   "What about it?"

   "How about now?"

   "How about getting real.  You're all sweaty and stuff."

   "It's just my back."

   "Don't be gross.  And I don't feel like waiting forever, anyway"

   "Okay, okay.  I can take a shower in five minutes.  Is that too long for
you?"

   "I suppose not," she said.

   I took off and undressed in my room, all except my underwear, and headed
back to the bathroom.  The door was open but as I walked in I was surprised
to see my sister monkeying around in front of the mirror.

   "I thought you were in a hurry," I complained.

   "Not really, just don't want to wait for hours."

   "Well, I'm going to take my shower as soon as you get out."

   "But I haven't taken mine yet."

   "What?  Well, you wanted me in here, now I'm going to take my shower."

   "Go right ahead," she said.

   I paused, then sarcastically said, "You're leaving...when?"

   She kept fooling with her face in front of the mirror, "I'm not, but go
ahead, I won't bother you."

   "Oh yes you will," I answered.

   She moved over to the shower without saying anything, then started to
turn the water on.  "There, just like old times, I'll get the water all set
up for you."

   I just stood there and she added, "You want you back scratched, don't
you?  Well, you have to be clean for that."

   "Fine, but I'm not the one holding up the action."

   She smiled at me, "Maybe you are.  I told you, didn't I, that you had to
be naked for your scratch?"

   "Be serious."

   "Hey, here's an idea.  You go in the shower and I'll scrub your back for
you.  That way you'll be clean, you'll be naked." And then you get your
back scratch.  All at once.  It's perfect"

   "Not so perfect.  Why on earth would I be naked in front of you?"

   "To get you back scratch."

   "Maybe laying down on a bed, but not in a shower."

   "You would be facing the wall."

   "Yeah, right."

   "Actually, though, the more I think about it, what is your problem? 
I've seen you naked before." She smirked, "And I don't mean just as kids."

   "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled.  "But that was different."

   "How many different ways are there to be naked."

   "Well, I mean...well, you were naked, too."

   "And that's makes all the difference in the world?"

   "Some, sort of." She was making me sound stupid.

   "So when I was naked, then things were ok?"

   I just sort of nodded and shrugged together.

   "So if I was naked," she continued, "things would be different?"

   "Sure," I said, glad she was seeing reason for a change.

   "I don't see how whether I'm naked changes anything about you being
naked.  "

   "Well, you're just twisting things.  It's just that it would make it
easier."

   "You'd go in the shower if I was naked."

   "Probably."

   "Okay," she said.  Then to my total surprise, she reached for the knot
under her arm and pulled her towel away.  She had nothing on underneath. 
"See," she said, "I'm still the same, right, whether you have clothes on or
off."

   I nodded.

   "Great," she said, "so take you clothes off and go in the shower." Then
she added sarcastically, "Go ahead, you can just stand there with your nose
against the wall.  That can't hurt can it?"

   "What about Mom" I asked, fiddling with the tops of my underwear.

   She looked at me as if I was a moron.  She took a sleeping pill while I
was still down there.  A glass of two of wine and she'll be out until
tomorrow.

   "Go ahead," she urged, "don't be such a scaredy-cat."

   I took a breath and turned around.  What the hell.  She was right.  She
had seen it all before, what was the difference?  Still, I carefully kept
my back to her as I took off my underwear.  I remembered her comment about
seeing my balls from between my legs, so I was careful to keep my legs
together.  That made getting the underwear off rather tricky, but I
managed. Then I stepped into the shower and stood facing the wall.  But I
made sure my nose was nowhere near the wall.

   In a few seconds, I heard the rustle of the shower curtain.  I could
feel the shower spray change, little drops going where they shouldn't.  I
could sense her near me but refused to look or acknowledge it in any way. I
was sort of in denial, I guess.

   She moved and her hip grazed my butt.  I jumped, then she giggled.  "You
can calm down, I think."

   I didn't say anything.  But she had that sound in her voice when she was
nervous so I guessed some of her casual lack of concern was just for show.

   Then she spoke again, "Okay, no jumping this time, I'm just going to
scrub your back."

   "For ten minutes, right?"

   "I suppose." she agreed.

   We were silent for quite a while.  I felt myself getting drowsy, almost
falling asleep.  Next time, I figured I would at least sit down.  Then my
sister started talking.

   "This is kind of fun," she said.

   "I think it's more fun for me."

   "You like your back rub, huh?  That's good.  I also meant just being in
here together.  It seems like when we were little kids."

   "Yeah, can you believe we were both small enough to sit on the floor
together-with room left over?"

   "We could still do it."

   "I doubt it, at least not with a lot of tangles."

   "How come you were so afraid to undress?" She had switched gears and I
wasn't ready for her.

   "Ahm, I wasn't afraid."

   "Okay, but you were pretty reluctant.  How come?"

   "I guess," I said, "It's just, you know, private?"

   "Why?  Even if I'd never seen you, still I know what guys are like." She
paused then added, "Besides...I have seen you so it doesn't seem to make
much sense."

   "What about you?" I asked.  "Weren't you afraid to undress?" I found
hard to believe she could be that different from me.

   "Well, not really.  I felt weird, you know, but really, I knew it didn't
matter because you'd already seen me.  So what does it matter anymore?"

   "But you still felt weird."

   "Just a little," she answered.  "But I figure that's because it's
different.  I'm in the habit of covering up, so not to cover up is weird."
She paused, then asked, "What about you, is that how you feel?"

   "Not exactly," I said.

   "How do you mean?"

   "I don't know how to say it."

   "Just start," she said, "then if it isn't right, say `stop,' that's not
it."

   Somehow I felt like telling a secret.  "I guess, even if you know what I
look like, I'm still shy about it."

   "Why?"

   "Because, I don't know."

   "I would think you would want to show if off." She realized I was
talking about my penis.  Then she must of realized something.  "Oh.  Would
you feel better if it was, like, a little larger."

   "A lot larger," I said before thinking.

   "Oh, little brother," she said sounding really sad, "You shouldn't think
that way." Her hand brushed my cheek.  "You're not shaving yet."

   "No."

   "Doesn't that embarrass you?"

   "Why should it?"

   "Just wondering.  But don't you see, you don't have a beard yet and your
thingy is still growing-it all goes together."

   "I know it goes together, it just makes me feel dumb."

   "What about last week....you were just standing in front of me and
didn't seem bothered."

   "I guess, I dunno, sort of was used to it or something."

   "How do you feel now, just standing here?" she asked.

   "Pretty good." She was moving the wash cloth around a lot more than when
she had started.  Over my shoulders, along my sides.  Even over my butt a
few times and alongside my hips.  I though about it, "I guess I'm just used
to this right now."

   "You know what?  We need to start new habits."

   "What do you mean?"

   "You know, do this regularly so we get used to it.  Then we won't get
all uptight."

   "You mean shower together?"

   "Sure, make it a once a week deal.  At the very least." She paused, then
added, "we could do lots of stuff, like try on clothes together or-"

   "Yeah," I said, "or give me back rubs when I'm lying down so I don't
have to worry about falling over if I fall asleep."

   "Feels pretty good, doesn't it?" she asked.  She was down washing a leg
and suddenly she hit my football wound on the side of my knee.

   I jumped and hollered something.  Then she got all sorry-like and kept
saying, "You poor guy, I'm so sorry."

   Then she pushed over to the little seat that's part of the shower and I
sat down.  She was kneeling in front of my knee, dabbing real gently trying
to get the dirt and crust off my wound.  I was admiring the way her boobs
hung before I realized that my dick was in full display.  And with her on
her kneeling right in front of me, she was practically at eye level.

   I was surprised, though.  Now that it had happened, I really didn't
mind. She fiddled with my knee for awhile, then paused and looked up at me.

   "I guess I kind of got used to it," I said, "being seen."

   She smiled and said, "that's good," as she looked at it.

   "It's really kind of cute," she said, "I'm glad you don't mind having me
look at it."

   I just shrugged my shoulders and she added, "that was cool, last week,
when it was hard." That made me feel a little weird and I thought I might
be blushing.  "What made it get hard?"

   "I don't know," I mumbled.

   "I think I do," she said.  "It was sucking my boob."

   I kind of shrugged but didn't say anything.

   She asked, "Is it true, that guys get hard-ons all the time?  I mean,
even when you're not thinking of sex?"

   "I guess so."

   "I read that happens mostly during the teens, then it's not so bad."

   "I hope so."

   "Kind of impractical, huh?"

   "And embarrassing," I said.  "All of a sudden out of nowhere, you gotta
figure out how to hide yourself."

   "How come you're not hard now?"

   I shrugged.  She added, "I wish you'd get hard, I'd like to see it
again."

   "I can't just make it happen."

   "How come?  Can't you just look at my boobs or something?"

   "I am looking at them.  Look," I said, "first you almost made me fall
asleep, now, well, it's okay you're looking at me, but it does make me a
little nervous."

   "Oh, and that keeps it from getting hard?"

   "I think so...." I was looking at her boob.  It was awful attractive and
I was kind of surprised I wasn't getting a hard-on.  Maybe I was too
clinical.  I was studying her boobs like they they were just a scientific
problem.  The smooth little nipple, hardly visible, little bumps like
gooseflesh in the darker skin around her nipple, the way her boobs just
barely hung at all.

   I licked my lips and suggested, "Last time I was sucking your nipple."

   "Yeah," she said, "But I don't think that's a good idea to do again."
She looked at my face, smiled, then looked back down at my penis.  "Here,"
she said, pulling me up by the hand.  "You wash my back now."

   I took the soap she was handing me and reached for the wash cloth.

   "No," she stopped my hand, "just use your hands...make it like a
massage."

   She turned away from me and I hesitated for a moment.  Her back was so
delicate, her waist narrow just before flaring out at her hips.  Her round
bottom made me want to lean up against her with my penis.  I felt funny
down there.

   I started with her shoulders and rubbed around, then got a little braver
and squeezed her shoulders.  He made a little moan and I did it some more.
I worked my way down to the small of her back but was careful to stay above
where her crack started.

   My cock was beginning to rise and I figured I had better concentrate on
her back.  Hopefully I would get soft again before she turned around.

   I moved back up to her shoulders and she said, "You can wash my bottom,
too, okay."

   "Um, okay." I didn't go down there right away because I didn't want to
seem to eager.  That didn't fool my cock, though.  It was now sticking
straight out and I could feel it reaching even higher.

   Tentatively I moved down to the side of her waist, then slid to the hip.
Nervously, I moved my hand across a cheek and her crack squished together.
My cock jumped like a live animal and I snatched my hand away from her
bottom like I had been burned.

   I paused, undecided what to do when my sister said, "That felt good,
why'd you stop"?

   She turned as she spoke.  I was reaching for her again and as she
turned, my hand slid above her belly, just below her boobs.

   She looked at my hard-on, now almost pointing straight up.  "Oh!"

   I started to turn away but she held me and said, "It's fantastic!"

   I tried to turn again, "Okay, but that's enough."

   "I want to see," she said.

   "I feel too stupid."

   "Why?"

   "Because it's a hard-on."

   "So?  It's natural.  You should be proud of it?"

   "Easy for you to say.  I'm the one with it sticking out.  Hell, even
when it's not hard, you still have it bobbling in front of you.  You're
lucky.  Your stuff is all hidden away."

   She looked me in the face.  "It is, isn't it?  I hadn't really thought
of it that was." Then she looked back down.  I was getting used to being
stared at.  "Okay," she said.  "I'm sorry about staring at you.  Tell you
what.  After the shower we go and sit somewhere and you can....we
can...sort of inspect each other?  Get used to each other."

   What could I say to that?  I nodded my head and we quickly finished our
shower.

   We hardly dried but hurriedly headed out.  "My room," was all she said.
I followed her, her round bottom just disappearing into her room as I
headed down the hall with my hard-on still poking up.  It felt funny to be
in the hall.  I always felt a little weird if I dashed across the hall
naked from my bedroom to the shower.  It was kind of strange.  Naked in my
bedroom was fine and naked in the bathroom was fine.  Somehow, though, when
I was in the hallway, even for a second or two, I got the creeps.  Like
someone was staring at me, or I was somewhere I really shouldn't be.  Of
course, now, not only naked, but with my pole sticking up, I was really
getting the jitters.

   I had just about gotten used to being naked with my sister in the
bathroom.  Even the idea of a hard-on hadn't seemed as bad as I had thought
it would be, not with the way my sister had seemed to view it.  I started
to panic, though, now that I was in the hallway.  Walking into my sister's
room with a cock pointing to the ceiling wasn't the smartest move I ever
made.  Like going head-first down the slide at school when I was little.  I
knew where I was going, alright, but it just seemed like I was going about
it the wrong way.


   - * - *