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From: BillyG <hayden@mindless.com>
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Subject: My Sister Jean XIII (m/f sibling phone sex)
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MY SISTER JEAN
By BillyG
Chapter 13 -- Safety of the Telephone
I never imagined that she would do something so blatantly provocative
and sexual as placing her soiled panties under my pillow. Oh, I knew what
an emotional charge her panties were and I supposed I thought she didn't.
Yet, it had all started with her panties. Our first steps of this erotic journey
were taken when I'd teased her about her soiled underpants. We'd treated
it in a lighthearted, teasing way since, even when I thought to myself, "She
has no notion what a sexually provocative symbol her panties are for me."
And, not wanting to reveal too much, to become too vulnerable, I never
told her. I never confessed what a gut-wrenching response her intimate
apparel produced in me. Or at least I didn't think I had. In fact, I was
acutely aware that the carelessness with which she had previously shown
with her soiled undergarments had changed. She no longer indifferently
left them in the bathroom as before. I had been unable to get my daily
pheromones fix in months. I assumed she had a hamper in her room, but
I'd made a promise to myself that I wouldn't violate her privacy again. So
far, I'd been able to keep that promise.
Now, suddenly finding this silken thing under my pillow, delicious
memories and feelings came flooding back. That she had called a few
minutes before to tell me to look under my pillow carried so many
messages. Chief among those was, 'Let's play, Billy.'
We'd recently given ourselves permission to be more honest and open
about our sexual feelings for each other and, at the same time, admitting
our fears, had agreed not to have sex. 'God, what does that mean?' I
wondered. 'Not having sex.' Just what is 'not having sex' anyway? By my
lights, we'd 'had sex' several times. Oh, we hadn't done the dirty deed, but
if what we'd experienced wasn't having sex, then what is? We'd been
thrown together several times, picked up and tossed about by forces whose
strength awed us. Each time that happened, we had withdrawn, shaken
and dazed, wondering, 'Where is this going?'
Touching the black silk of Jean's "unmentionables" I was thrilled.
She'd worn these. Recently. They'd been on her body. On her butt.
Between her legs! My resolves were fading away. It's true, I thought,
My dick has no conscious.'
Flattening the crotch of her panties, I studied it. They were slightly
damp to the touch. On the periphery of the damp spot was a faint whitish
dry area. I'd seen that before. Her essence, right there.
Looking closely, I found a few curly hairs. Yes! Pubic hair! A thrill
shot through me and another ratchet of my madness slipped. I was teasing
myself. Delighting myself. This slow, measured -- even controlled
unfolding of a treasure -- heightened my arousal.
I kept for last the real prize, the scent. I was already dizzy with desire
and hard with my lust. Bringing the panties to my face, I slowly inhaled,
allowing her intimate fragrance to titillate my olfactory senses. The
seductive power of her scent ripped through me, much like a whiff of
ammonia. I felt it climb up into my nose, seeming to pass through some
impossible route, directly into my frontal cortex. I fell back, clutching her
panties to my nose, unthinking, a mass of jangling, unstable sexual neurons,
randomly discharging like some mad fireworks display. I was gone. Done
for. I never had a chance.
Then I opened the note. There was only one line. It said: "I want to do
it with you . . . on the phone."
I shoved my arms between my legs, humping against myself as I curled
up in a fetal ball. No question. I was just gonna die!
A little while later -- seemed like days -- the phone rang again. Almost
in a stupor I answered, "Jean?"
She laughed and then in that breathy voice characteristic of her
excitement, she said, "You found them. What do you think?"
"That I've died and gone to heaven. Besides that, I can't think at all.
What're you *doing* to me?"
"Remember we said we'd explore things with each other?"
"Sure. But we didn't."
"Well, I don't know about you, big boy, but I've been afraid."
"Of me?" I asked.
"Partly that, I guess." She paused, and then added, "But more of
me."
Not attempting to *act* dumb, I said, "I don't understand."
"I didn't suppose you would. We think differently, you and me. I
suppose it may be a 'girl thing' but anyway . . . to be honest, you have
some power over me . . ."
I interrupted, "I have power over YOU? Come ON Jean. You're
the one with the power. You should see me right now. I'm almost
twitching!"
"Good," she laughed. But it's true. Feel however you want, when you
turn on the current, I'm a goner, so this is the only way I feel safe relating
to you. Sexually, I mean."
"Phone sex? Jean, you mean we live in the same house, right next to
each other and we're . . . we're reduced to phone sex?"
"Pretty kinky, huh? I thought you'd like it. It *is* all right, isn't it,
Billy?"
"Jean, if it were the only way I could talk with you, I'd get off on your
smoke signals! Actually, it *is* kinky and you're right, it appeals to me.
Safe, isn't it?"
"That's it! That's the point of it, brother mine. Because I've been afraid
of you and more, afraid of myself, I've been inhibited, even withdrawn
around you. I've been afraid to tell you what I'm feeling and particularly
afraid of allowing myself to get turned on around you. This way, I figure
we can open up with each other, do anything we want and no matter how
crazy we feel, how crazy we get, we're safe."
"Jean, you're so cerebral. You're so well-thought-out. What're you
gonna be, a college professor or somethin'?"
"I didn't leave my panties under your pillow and then call you to talk
about college, stud muffin. I want to know this: Is it true that boys get
really hot when they smell a girl's . . . uh, underwear?"
I'd stripped for action -- whatever I thought that might have been --
and was wearing only an old sleeveless sweat shirt. I had wrapped her
panties around my erect cock; just the dusky head of my dick was poking
out. "If you could see me now, Jean, it'd answer that question."
"Tell me. Tell me, Billy!"
"Jean, you must know. When I first saw them there, I became excited.
Right away. Touching them, feeling them, got me more turned on. But
what nudged me over was the smell of you. I don't know what that is, but
it just jolts me. Anyway, I'm laying here, horny and hard and I've wrapped
your panties around my hard-on. It's all I can do to resist stroking myself
and coming right now!"
"I *thought* you liked me . . . that you liked the smell of me, but I
wasn't sure. You know what it's like, don't you? I mean, we get all sorts
of messages . . . like it's dirty down there . . . things like that. And I
*know* it's not dirty, but still . . ."
I didn't want to talk about "messages." I wanted to get sexy with this
woman, so I told her what I was thinking. "Jean," I began -- I often
addressed her by name when I wanted to make a point -- "right now, in my
mind, I have a fantasy about you."
She whispered, "Oh, yes! Tell me."
"You're standing on my bed. I'm looking up at you. We don't talk. I
ask you with my eyes. You slowly pull up your full skirt. First I can see
your thighs. Then your panties. Your legs are apart. You step over me
and I'm looking right up into you."
"God! I love the thought of you looking at me . . . looking under my
dress . . . at my panties. I'm *such* an exhibitionist! Geez, I'm getting
wet."
Slowly stroking myself, I close my eyes and let the imagery flow, giving
voice to the cine' in my head. "You squat a little, right over my head,
closer and closer. Then you pull the crotch of your panties up into your
pussy, into your slit. I can see your pussy lips, Jean"
"Yes . . . yes . . . I can see it too. I've dreamed of doing something like
this . . . so slutty . . . I can't believe myself. God, I'm getting wet!"
"I can see your pussy hair, Jean . . . the curls, the wet curls . . . you're so
wet, Jean!"
"No, I'm SOAKING! It's running out of me."
"Pulling your panties back and forth through your pussy slit, you slowly
squat lower and lower. I can see the stitching of your panties, you're so
close. Now I can hear you . . . smell you."
"Listen to this, Billy."
And then I could hear a wet, squishy sound. Jean was masturbating and
I guess, holding the phone by her crotch. Farther away, I could hear her
moaning. Then closer, she added, "Can you hear that?" Do you know
what that is? That's me. That's how wet I am."
We were two trains running. Me with a monologue of my imagery, she
commenting on my words. Neither could be derailed at this moment.
"You yank your panties aside and I can see into you . . . right into your
pink, swollen, wet cunt! You're drooling. I can see pussy juice running
back into the crack of your ass . . . down your thigh."
"Ungh . . . I love it . . . I love it. I'm so loose, so open . . . keep talking
to me, Billy. Please, please . . . don't stop."
"You spread your pussy lips apart and lower yourself closer to me. All
I can see is your pussy hair, your open cunt . . . wet and swollen and open
for me."
"Ungh . . . ungh . . . I'm gonna come, Billy. Gonna come . . ."
"Your legs are weakening. You're sinking lower. Your pussy is right
above my mouth. Your juice is dripping onto my lips."
She had stopped talking. All I could hear was a rhythmic grunting.
"Ungh . . . ungh . . ." that I recognized at the involuntary sounds Jean made
approaching her orgasm. She wasn't alone.
"I reach up with the tip of my tongue and run it up through your slit.
It's coated with your juices. I touch your clit. You sink onto my mouth. I
fuck my tongue into your cunt . . . I smell your musty smell!"
Jeans' grunting ran into an explosive sound . . . then a long breath
followed by a protracted moan that tailed off to a thin wail, "Come . . .
coming, Billy . . . coming."
Then all I could hear was her breathing. I hadn't come.
I was surprised. I was so excited and so hot. I couldn't believe that I
was still hanging there. Actually, it wasn't the feeling of hanging at all. It
was more like drifting along on some sexual plateau of heightened
sensitivity, heightened awareness. I didn't feel frustrated or unfulfilled. I
just felt good.
I'd heard from Jean once that girls complained that guys got their's and
then just rolled off, leaving them frustrated and not knowing how to ask for
more. Well, I'm so self-absorbed that I didn't want to be known as a jack
rabbit. I wanted to be viewed as the consummate lover. (Never having
even done it yet!) I'd started trying to hold off my orgasm when I
masturbated, to stretch it out. It went from impossible to difficult at first.
But I was willing to practice. Every day! I was dedicated that way. After
awhile, I came to enjoy those sexual plateaus. At times, I could extend
them so long, I'd just slide back down the other side without having come.
I just did it again.
"You there, Billy?"
"Boy, am I!"
"Whew. That was something! That was *more* than I imagined it
might be. It was wonderful. I LOVED it!"
A bit late, I asked, "What're you wearing, Jean?"
She laughed and said, "I thought that's what you asked me at the
*beginning*."
"I'm just wearing a sweat shirt."
"Me too! One of your old ones. But right now it's up in my armpits.
I'm holding my . . . myself. My fingers are all wet. God, the smell in here.
*You'd* love it!"
"You have panties there?" I asked.
"Uh, sure . . . oh, there they are. They're on the floor where I threw
them."
"Do me a favor?"
"God, anything." Then laughing, "Well, almost anything."
"Use your panties. Wipe yourself. Wipe up your juices with em . .
. stuff em into your pussy. Then give them to me tomorrow, okay?"
"God, you are *such* a horn dog, Billy!"
"Will you, Jean?"
"Of course I will. You must know it thrills me that you want to smell
me."
"That's not all that I want to do."
"Yeah, yeah. We both know about that. And so do I. You know that
too. But you also know how I feel about it. As much as I want to do it
with you, I'm not gonna. That's why I'm here and you're there! I almost
expect you to crawl through the phone wire and come out through the
receiver. 'Night, Billy. I love you."
"Good night, babes. Remember the panties!"
-- End of Chapter 13 --
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