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Subject: <*>NEW STORY--Better?
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=========================
The following work is pure fiction. All people, places & situations are
complete fabrications of my imagination. Any resemblance is wrong.
Content includes GRAPHIC SEX. If your laws state that you are too young
to be reading this, grow up and change those laws. Until then, duh, go
wild in your own head.
©1998 losgud. These words belong to me. Don't fuck with them. Write
your own. NO for-profit use, reposting, archiving [other than a.s.s.m &
Deja News] etc. Read, download, share with a friend. Consider
unauthorized inclusion in a personal web site as an infringement of
copyright.
=========================
M/F Inc Con Humor
NOTE: As usual, absolutely NO MINORS involved in the making or testing
of this product. All-adult party time. Readers are not encouraged to
try this in their own home. Results may vary. If you don't care for
narrative unrelated to sex, consider yourself forewarned. Otherwise,
enjoy!
2ND NOTE: Again, mighty thanks to the red pencil and steady hand of
Coyote Azure!
BETTER?
Like I didn't have anything better to do with the weekend than attend
the wedding of some second-cousin I'd never met. Like I'm an adult and
I should be the one to decide how I spend my time. Like there's another
person on the planet more persuasive and sure of said powers than my
mother.
"_What?!_" I tried to conjure up a suitable sense of slight. "_Mom!_
Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is Friday evening. And you're talking
early Saturday afternoon? As in _mañana_? Like, what?" I counted
quickly, "eighteen hours from now?" _Outrage!_ I implored myself, gotta
make the emotion _huge_ or you'll never get off the hook. "Hold on a
minute while I go check my mailbox--I don't believe I've received the
invitation yet."
"That's probably because he didn't know your address."
"And why should he? I doubt he knows my name. And why should he? I
doubt he knows I exist. And why should he? This is the first I've
heard of _him_!"
"Well . . . " she faltered. Had her there! That's one of Mom's good
points. She's never been one to obviate the truth.
"Did you like buy a couple tickets from the scalpers? Or did someone up
and die so there's suddenly a vacancy?" I paused, considering. "Okay,
so what sort of shindig is the reception going to be. Detail my reward,
please."
"Actually . . . " she started.
Bad beginning there, particularly combined with the hesitation.
"Actually what?"
"Well, you know how it is with catered affairs . . . "
Just enough to understand that there wasn't a place at a table with my
name on it. That I was supposed to give up a weekend without even the
temptation of free food and an open bar. The whole deal sunk in like a
lead weight dropped from on-high.
"Ah-h-h, so that's it, eh? His side of the aisle is looking a bit
sparse, is it? Someone's calling in some markers on you, huh? _That
Tony, he's such a loser we won't waste a meal on him, but still, he'll
make for good pew filler._ Hey Mom, I've got better ways to waste my
weekend. How about you pick on Janine this time, okay?"
"Her flight arrives at 7:47 tomorrow morning," she informed me.
"Good. Then the vacancy's been filled. So why are you calling me?"
"Tony, this is your mother talking to you. Do it for _her_."
Aiee! not the third-person! I had two options. Give in, or spend
another two hours on the phone and _then_ give in.
"Okay Mom, I'm packing right now."
"Don't be absurd! You're talking to me on the phone."
"Got me. Okay, I'm hanging up now to go pack my bag."
"And you'll stay through to Sunday, right? so we can have a big family
Sunday dinner together the way we used to, right? since Janine doesn't
fly out until 7:47 Sunday evening which should give us plenty of time,
right? so I'll fix all your favorite things, right? and it'll be just
like old times, right? . . ."
"Sorry Mom, I can't hear you. I'm not talking to you on the phone, I'm
packing my things."
What a great excuse to get off the line! Or rather, it was great to
have an excuse to get off the line. The excuse itself, well, no, it
wasn't so great.
The receiver clattered set back in its cradle as I turned to sit down.
I was half-dead from a long day at work, from a long week of work. I
was hungry, but I'd been too tired to do anything about it. Other than
to abort _Plan A_ by moving the fresh boneless chicken breast up to the
chiller tray first thing upon getting home. I was going to make love to
that meat with vine-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and oregano, many
cloves of garlic, stirring it all together with a generous portion of
expensive virgin olive oil . . . but some other night. And now _Plan B_
had fallen through--crack a beer and call up a pizza.
The hour and a half drive down could wait until morning, but the race
was on. I didn't trust myself to get up early enough to beat out
Janine; nor did I trust her enough to not wind up on an earlier flight.
Twenty minutes later I was out in the car with my bag and a decent
enough suit hanging on the hook of the passenger side. I was munching a
little something, but nothing to ruin my appetite. Halfway down the
highway was _Plan C_: a truckstop diner that was well-worth the heart
attack.
I made great time. I was back at the house of my childhood in not much
more than two hours. A few steps inside the door and Mom was swooning
in my arms like a long lost lover. I shared a manly handshake with Dad.
When I returned from taking my things into the guestroom, it was to meet
a reproachful look from Mom.
"Tony, that _is_ your sister's room."
Some things never change.
"Sure Mom, _once upon a time_."
She refused to turn off the look.
"_Come on!_ First come, first served. Sure it's Janine's old room, but
it is _my_ old bed. All the furniture is, or was, mine. Possessions
being nine-tenths of the law and all, therefore . . . "
I had Mom by the nape of a garbled truth.
Being perennially two years older than me, Janine had long swooped home
to gather up all the furniture from her old room by the time I'd
finished college. My initial apartment as a freshly degreed guy was the
typical futon-on-the-floor share. The brief time my clothes didn't
spend either on my body or on the floor, they lodged in a line of stolen
milkcrates.
At the first indication that we'd both flapped our wings enough to be
considered gone from the nest for good, Mom had staked her turf, setting
up a personal room for sewing and crafts and privacy and such. My old
room was the slightly nicer of the two. Dad got the chore of shifting
the furniture.
+ + +
I slept in late the next morning--as late as my body wanted. The
bedside clock said it was not quite nine-thirty. Surely the time was
wrong. I felt so refreshed it seemed impossible that the entire morning
hadn't been lost to slumber. I smirked at the clock--didn't get to
_beebeebeebeep_ at me, didja, ya bastard!
Not that Mom hadn't tried to ordain otherwise the night before.
"Don't forget to set the alarm for seven."
"Why?"
"To go out and pick up Janine at the airport."
"No one said anything to me about me being the one to pick her up." I
decided to appeal to her frugal side. "That's a twenty-dollar fare, and
I'll want the cash upfront."
"Tony! You know I don't carry that sort of money around. I don't have
nearly that amount in my purse."
That was Mom--pretending twenty bucks was still a princely sum. Money
was just about the only subject where she was willing to play semantic
games to obfuscate the truth. She probably didn't have but five dollars
in her purse; maybe seven if you dug around in the bottom for all the
spilled change. But she had easily several thousand dollars hidden
around the house. Slipped into old books, stuck under the shelf paper
in the back of drawers. The brick in the toilet tank not only conserved
water, it also concealed a ziplock bag with--last time I counted--$260.
"Okay. You say don't have the money in your purse, but you do have the
car in your garage."
She shifted tactics immediately. "But surely you'll want to go to the
airport with us."
"_Don't think so._"
"Then, then, seven-thirty, so you'll be up and decent by the time we get
Janine back to the house."
"Janine can wait to see me when I choose to drag my sorry self out of
bed." I was adamant: the rest of my Saturday could be ruined, but I
would not be waking up to an alarm.
Janine was the first thing I saw coming out of the bedroom. That
familiar head of dark hair--a little longer than I remembered and rather
frazzled. It had that slept-on-wet look; that or she'd done a dog and
hung her head out the window for the entire flight. She was wearing the
exact same worn grey sweatshirt as the last time I'd seen her, or else
she had a closetful of the damn things.
She was sitting at the table in the open area of the kitchen, head
drooped in a posture I knew to avoid. There was a coffee mug and a
plate of toast on the table before her. She seemed to be studying the
two items.
"It's like at a wedding reception: you _drink_ the toast!"
Janine turned and glowered at me. "What are you doing sleeping in _my_
room?"
"Great to see you, too. Perky as ever in the morning, I see."
"My room!"
"But my bed. And really Janine, I've already had this exact
conversation with Mom. Save your breath; go ask her how the discussion
turns out."
As if on cue, Mom swept into the kitchen. "Oh, but Tony, she flew all
the way here just to be with us today."
My only hope was a full-bore offensive. "Yea, and I drove all the way
here et cetera. And I daresay I spent more time on the road than she
did in the air. What sort of sick conspiracy is this anyway? Huh?"
Mom started to blanche while Janine blackened all the more. Ah, I was
on the right track! I continued fulminating, "Like all this at-the-
last-minute bull. Interesting how Janine has time to go out and book
her reservations before I get the call. That the only flight you could
get? So you don't call me until last night, figuring . . . wrongly!
_You know Tony, he won't bother to drive down until the morning . . ._
Guess you don't know Tony, either one of you. Well, I've got a good
idea. Is this better? You can have the damn room, Janine."
I turned back to the room like an angry cat, leaving a tail of words
flicking behind me. "I'll leave my suit on the hook--you can stuff it
with straw."
There was no point in collecting my toiletries. Nor did I repack the
clothes I'd already taken out. It was showtime in the old home; it
frightened me how adept I'd become in manipulating my role over the
years. I just grabbed the bag and stormed from the room. Sure enough,
I didn't get halfway to the front door before the two of them were
hanging on me, Janine babbling supplications, the tears of Mom's
apologies soaking my collar.
Through it all Dad remained oblivious in the livingroom, hearing not a
word of us. I'd warned him time and again that just because the volume
knob on the t.v. would turn that high didn't mean it was healthy for the
speaker. But did he ever listen to me? Of course not. He couldn't.
The t.v. made a mute of me.
He was, actually, the reason the dramatics had reached such high pitch.
If Janine could have gotten here and sacked out for an hour, she would
have been fine. But there he sat planted in front of the tube. He was
the primary reason I'd been so adamant in getting the guest room myself.
This hadn't been such a problem before the trickle-down of technology.
But these days they subscribed to both cable and satellite. They
received every t.v. signal in the world. Which seemed pretty excessive
to me since Mom was never a fan of the magic window and Dad rarely
strayed from his one love. He was hooked on some 24-hour Gardening
Channel beamed out of Kazakstan.
That was no real surprise; Dad had always had a fanatical interest in
gardening. He had a huge library of books on the subject, shelved
according to the Library of Congress cataloging system. As well he had
a stack of watercolor tablets he'd filled over the years with various
designs for the yard. The grounds of the house had been imagined as a
small-share farm, specializing in tubers; returned to tall-grass prairie
glory of the pre-settlement era; arranged as a formal English garden . .
. . But the truly weird thing was that Dad never stepped out the front
door except to get in the car. The closest his hands had ever come to
actual gardening was plowing his fingers through the furrow of his
billfold when it came time to pay off the neighbor kid for mowing the
lawn.
+ + +
We made it to the church on time, all thanks to me. Dad wisely decided
to get ready first, the head of the house having first crack at the hot
water. While he was off in their room, I turned off the t.v. and
switched the batteries in the remote for a pair from the utility drawer
in the kitchen. That was where Mom kept her hoard of batteries that
_still have a little life left in them_. It wasn't hard to find a set
that had a _Use By_ date going back to the days of my tenancy.
Being at the bottom of the showering hierarchy, I decided to skip it and
just suit up. I came across Dad in the livingroom, poking at the front
of the set. I swear there were tears in his eyes. "Say Tony, um, the
remote's broken. How do you turn it on from here?"
"You can't turn on the t.v. by turning on the t.v.--they don't make them
that way anymore Dad. You'll have to use your back-up remote. You do
have one don't you? Where is it?"
"My what?! Oh. My back-up remote. Eh, it's not worth the bother," he
bluffed. "There's probably nothing on anyway."
"Really?" I needled him a little more. "I thought I saw some mention of
a really interesting special on the vestigial landscaping at Angkor
Wat."
He hesitated. "Naw, we gotta get to that church. Let me go hurry up
the girls."
I had been shitting him unmercifully, creating the show off the top of
my head. So it was my turn to stand in disbelief as he left the room,
"But you're right, Tony. That was a damn good segment--they showed it
last week as well. Gave me some really great ideas for the side yard."
What can you say about weddings? The bride's draped in enough material
for three dresses, so is it any wonder she keeps tripping and stumbling?
The way the groom looks, when you shake his hand in the receiving line
it's like you should slip him a buck for doing such a swell job of
parking your car. The priest is a cartoon, bumbling and burping,
stumbling about his stage, misreading his cue cards.
He kept wandering off to the wings--where there was apparently some sort
of kitchenette--while forgetting he was wired for sound. We all
listened to the clunking of bottles and rattling of glasses. He'd come
back, continue the ceremony for a bit, then disappear again. When it
came time for the couple to share a few sips of wine, there wasn't but
half a glass left in the bottle. It was a pouty priest blessing that
proceeding, practically glaring at them for downing their share.
For all the pomp and finery, the high-minded vows, the commitments to
cherish and all that _yadda yadda yadda_. But at the core of it all,
the ceremony was the preface to sanctioned sex. This fancy room full of
people gathered to witness the fact that someone was gonna get some
tonight. You could see all the old men shifting in their seats, stirred
by the memories of their wedding nights, their wives mortified, or
delighted, by the sight. The best man and the maid of honor looked
rather broom-closet rumpled. Even the young flower girl was casting
around some saucy glances.
An interesting turn of events was that this guy I didn't know was
marrying a woman I did know. I'd grown up around Judy, though I hadn't
seen her since she was sent off to some private high-school. Her
parents were loaded. It surprised me that they'd used this lush of a
local priest instead of hiring some Archbishop. They were never ones to
exactly flaunt their wealth, but they did have the tendency to use it to
buy what they wanted, without worrying about how small it might make
others feel.
And there she stood, the blushing bride. The night would hardly be a
novelty for her. You could go by rumor or the demeanor she'd been
projecting for years; either point of departure had her giving it away
since she was fifteen. Of course there's the old saw about why buy the
cow when you can get the milk for free--my cousin was proving the joke
she made of that joke. Judy was a Grade-A dispenser. My sources had
always indicated that after a taste or two you wanted to buy the cow
because you didn't want to share the milk. The groom was unique only in
that his was the first proposal she'd ever accepted.
Judy had lived up to the promise she had as a girl--as a woman, she was
cute in a not particularly distinguishable fashion. But all brides are
beautiful. Especially one with a million bucks stuffed up her bustle.
After the ceremony we all just sort of stood around. Buckets of rice
were at the ready, but the limo to whisk away the besotted couple hadn't
shown up. There would be the usual boastful driving around, then the
forty-five minute trip to the reception site, which would leave them
plenty of time for a quick fuck and a long shower--or a long fuck and a
quick shower: groom's prerogativebefore dinner. The reception, I'd
overheard, was at a resort lodge on a lake about fifty miles from town.
The bride's parents had rented out the whole damn place for overnight.
Not just dinner and drinks, I was losing out on a luxury suite as well!
I maintained a safe distance from Janine, not wanting to be associated
with her. Judy spent the whole time glaring at her. It wasn't that
Janine was consciously trying to upstage the bride. But she was wearing
a very pretty little dress that showed off exactly how pretty the
dresser was. It was a purple and blue floral print sundress that set
off her curly dark tresses. The fabric was thin, cotton, cut well above
the knee with a big scoop down the back. Strategically placed darts and
pleats made for a very pleasing fit.
I hadn't really forgotten what a stunning body Janine had, but it had
been years since I'd seen it displayed to such full advantage. I'm sure
she looked sharp in her professional and personal lives, but since
college the times we met back at the old home, she was always in her
sloppys. Baggy jeans, roomy sweaters.
Here she was, striding with a purposeful gait, or standing with canted
hip, turning quite a few eyes, including those of the man-of-the-hour.
This I knew because I wound up standing next to him while we all waited.
Janine walked briskly past us, the purse on her shoulder swinging so
hard the strap broke. She bent to pick it up, and at that very moment I
heard all the air gasp out of the groom.
"My god," he groaned, "who is that fox?"
With the ring not ten minutes on his finger!
"That's my sister," I replied.
"Oh," he tried to back peddle, "I mean, who is she?"
I forced a guffaw. "We're your family, ya big lunk."
"Huh." No doubt sorry that he'd married outside the circle.
"We're your long-lost cousins. Your mother's aunt was our grandmother,
or something like that. Funny how it took your wedding for us all to
meet."
"So . . . does your sister, like, live in town?"
"Naw, not anymore. Though she is still available."
"Uh, really?"
As long as I had the stiletto in his side, I decided to twist and turn
it. The fucking asshole! "Yea. We're like _second_-cousins or
something. So she _would've_ been fair game for you. Though say, I
never met you before, but turns out I was kids with the bride. Whoa,
talk about money. Your wife can go out and buy tits just like those.
And even so, what she lacks in physical attributes, I understand she
makes up for in enthusiasm."
Fortunately the limo arrived so he was swept away to the rain of rice
before he could think to turn around and punch me.
+ + +
I come from a family of nappers. This goes back generations. It's a
genetic habit. We're famous for the midafternoon snooze. Any excuse
will do. Have a bit of lunch, nothing heavy on the agenda, _Well, think
I'll have me a little laydown_. After a wedding, shedding the formal
clothes, and suffering through a late lunch brought home in greasy
sacks, the only wonder was that any of us made it to our respective
beds.
It was one of those bad naps: I slipped in a little too deep and slept
a little too long. I awoke with a rough start and in such a daze I
would have been at a loss to supply my name. Why was I lying there
fully dressed? In my own bed, but in my sister's room?!! I lay there
like that for a long time, slowly acclimating.
Slamming doors--that's what'd made me stir. The bedroom door, the
bathroom door, the front door, the car doors, the garage door. The
distinctive whine of the engine in Dad's car. Off to the gala they
went. See you in the morning, you conniving bastards!
After about twenty minutes I forced myself to get up. It was awfully
quiet in the house. I had the sudden realization that Janine had gotten
to go with them. And if they thought I was going to stick around . . .
_to hell with them!_
I _was_ going to stick around for a little while yet; needed some time
to extract my revenge. I wasn't quite sure what to do about Janine--
maybe see if she had a pair of blue jeans packed in her stuff . . . get
a brush and bleach and paint _Kick My Ass_ on the backside. It'd take
me a good boring twenty minutes to find all of Mom's cash in the old set
of encyclopedias. I needed some immediate satisfaction. There was a
selection of screwdrivers in the utility drawer. I was going to fuck
with the old man's pride and joy. Give him 500 variations on the Snow
Channel.
My hand was on the doorknob when I heard a noise. The knob made its
usual squeak, but it was another noise that stopped me in my tracks. It
sounded as if some small furry mammal was in the livingroom. Cautiously
I peered around the jamb.
Janine was home, lying belly down on the small sofa adjacent to the
door. Apparently the small furry mammal had gotten inside her pants and
lodged between her legs. She'd gotten her pants down, and was trying to
pull it off, but the animal was eating her fingers.
Even as I was thinking all this I was understanding exactly what I was
seeing. I . . . I didn't know what to do. Fortunately Janine had her
face buried in the cushions, because I was frozen to the spot. I stood
there watching. I'd never seen a woman masturbate, not in earnest,
alone, purely for her own satisfaction. She plumped her butt up in the
air; I could see she had both hands down there, fingers flying in blind
fury. The air was thick with the smell of her cunt.
Then came the first great groans of orgasm. I slipped away under the
cover of her cries. Walking silently down the hall, I felt like I had a
mammal trapped in _my_ pants. One with a particularly hard and hairless
tail.
Time for a shower, I decided. A very cold shower. That might make
things better.
+ + +
I took a long time drying and dressing, deliberating as I sat on the
edge of the bed in the contested room. It was hard to say what exactly
I was trying to settle. And that very fact was what eventually cleared
all the confusion from my mind. Okay, so I'd seen a lovely lady, butt-
naked, proving the adage that two hands are better than one. Sure, it'd
been my own sister engaged in self-satisfaction. And I had watched her.
And found the experience intensely erotic. But Janine didn't know any
of this. So why get all bent out of shape? Shift myself back into
Normal Tony mode.
I stood up and shuffled into the kitchen, then started poking through
the cupboards. I went about the business quietly, though not
exaggeratedly so. Just the normal small noises of a person who is
normally not very loud. The house was otherwise as silent as before; I
assumed Janine was still in on the sofa. My guess was that she had
slipped back into sleep before I'd made it into the shower. The cabinet
doors squeaked open and clacked shut. I gave the silverware drawer an
extra little rattle. The sounds issuing from the kitchen would announce
that Tony was up from his nap.
I made and ate a quick sandwich out of questionable items in the fridge.
If it didn't kill me, it should hold me until I decided whether or not
to deal with doing something about dinner. I was still at the table
when Janine emerged from the livingroom. She looked so sleep sodden I
didn't think she even noticed me. Her movements were those of the
undead--my sister the zombie went into the bathroom. I heard the shower
start.
I went into the livingroom and sank down on the sofa nearest the door.
Too lazy to cross the room to the big couch or any of the comfy chairs.
I thought about t.v., but it was so far away. The remote was nowhere
nearby. Besides, the batteries were back in the kitchen. There were
books on shelves off in the distance, but they were fixtures as familiar
as the furniture, though even less to my tastes. Gardening tomes and
tons of paperbacks that weren't selling as best as they had in previous
years. I picked up some of the magazines fanned across the top of the
coffee table. The usual assortment of shit that one might subscribe to
in hopes of increasing the odds of winning the $10,000,000 sweepstakes.
Mostly I sat there and thought. I _could_ just jump in my car and be
home in time to crack that beer and order up a pizza. Turn off the
ringer for a couple days to avoid the heat. I felt so edgy. Saturday
night! Hey, I should be out having tons of fun with my girlfriend. The
problem there being I hadn't had one in so long I was losing track of
how many months. But that didn't really seem to define the vagary of my
immediate problem. All my attempts to broaden my social circle hadn't
brought about any new prospects. That wasn't it. _Go to church_, Mom
kept nagging me, _you'll meet lots of nice girls there_. Well I went to
church this very afternoon. Sure, the bride was pretty cute, but I sort
of sensed she was already spoken for.
My discomfort was somehow more specific than that. It had to do with
the room itself. Then, of course, I realized that I did happen to be
sitting exactly where Janine had been lying. Napping. Sort of napping.
Doing what she'd been doing. What I'd watched her doing. Were the
cushions still warm?
That was too much. There was the weirdness of having glimpsed my sister
masturbating, bringing up the vestigial memories of a couple bumpy years
when I'd hit puberty. Mostly though it was how emblematic the sight had
been. The statistical departures from the norm aside, it was a big
world out there, half of it being women desiring men, the other half the
men quite eager to oblige. It was simple math. Whereas it felt like I
was the lone variable that just didn't quite fit into the equation.
I really needed to get up, grab my stack of magazines, and get over to
the long couch. Turn on the big screen anesthesia. I was shuffling my
feet getting ready to stand when Janine swung into the room and plopped
down beside me.
She was so fresh from the shower she reeked of steamy water. The scent
of special soap. Her hair hung limp and dark, wet with the fragrance of
flowers and herbs. I did happen to be sitting in her room, which
perhaps explained why she was wearing, barely, nothing but a towel.
But then, that was her style. I mean, she was following female style.
It was a curiousity to me, this business of women stepping out of the
shower and waltzing around in nothing but a towel. The greatest
mystery, however, was how they managed to keep the towel from just
falling off. What happened to gravity? Whip it around, a quick little
knot tucked between their breasts. Even the anatomy wasn't that vital.
I remembered Janine joining the post-shower parade long before she even
had tits.
Even more distinct was the memory of the one time I decided to try the
towel trick. My audience was the entire family, plus a friend of
Janine's I was more than a little crushed on who was over that evening
for a slumber party. The towel stayed up just long enough for me to
make my grand entrance into the open area of the kitchen. One moment I
was opening the fridge, the next I was racing to my room, trying
desperately to flee faster than the speed of sound. The speed of light
would have been better, but even so I couldn't outrun the shrieks and
streams of giggles. I reached my room and didn't come out until late
the following afternoon.
"What about that priest," I began, overwhelmed by thoughts of towels and
trying not to show it. By thoughts of bodies under towels and praying
not to show it.
"Really! Was he from Central Casting or what? That red and that
bulbous--he had to be wearing a rubber nose."
"So, you get all that holiness washed off you?"
Janine snorted. "Yea, though I had to use a brillo and Comet."
I gave an exaggerated sniff. "That stuff comes in apricot-scent these
days?"
She leaned over fast and started to give me a big shove but immediately
stopped, clutching at her chest. Had to retie the towel. She did it
artfully, casually, with just one hand, while I pretended not to notice.
That settled, she asked, "You thinking about dinner anytime soon?"
"Probably in a bit. But before I spend any money on something to eat, I
want to wait and see if I die first from that sandwich I made."
"I noticed you eating that. Man, you didn't use that honey-roasted ham,
did you?"
"Yep."
"God, Tony! That was old the last time I was here."
"Wasn't green yet. All those nitrates and nitrites, not to mention the
sodium--it's a wonder the sandwich didn't squeal when I cut it in half."
"It's a wonder you aren't squealing, and in need of being cut in half.
So, you feel like doing anything special?"
She settled back against the sofa, but the towel didn't quite follow her
movement. The damp or the nap of the fabric held it like velcro against
the cushions. Janine wriggled and tugged upward to re-cover the inch or
so of cleavage.
"Sure," my voice cracked as I glanced around the room. "Let's hunt
around and find one of Mom's credit cards and go out to _Monzoni's_."
"What? After a sandwich you're ready for a two-pound filet? Are you
really that hungry?"
"Hell no. But I'm ready for Mom to spend fifty bucks to buy me one.
Doggy bag the damn thing--I've got room in the trunk. Won't have to go
to the grocery for a week. That'll make up for the fact that I'm having
to sit here dying from a bad sandwich while they get the 12-course
deal."
"Oh Tony, god. _Catered_. 12-courses of crap."
She shifted again, slumping slightly as she drew a leg up. She had to
pull the towel down an increment, but that didn't disguise the fact that
if I'd been seated anywhere in the room but beside her . . .
"Listen, Janine." _Please stay still_, I implored. "I got the scoop.
Bride's side springs, you know? We go to this wedding, we don't even
know the dude from our family. But the bride--blew me away--that's
Judy."
"Judy?" Janine's face was a cloud of confusion. She sat up slightly.
There was a slight bit of slippage which she didn't correct, though I
wished she had.
"J-j-judy, as in née Smallhouse."
"Judy . . . _Smallhouse_? Huh?" I could see her memory banks clicking
away, while her breasts seemed to scream, _we're trapped in here, help
us escape!_
"Way back, Janine, way back," I kept my composure. "The swimming pool?
The ten-car garage larger than anyone else's home. The big big house
that always had that weird odor?"
Her eyes ballooned. "_No way!_ That's her? What's-his-name married
Judy _Smell_house!?"
I nodded in triumph. She clapped her hands and the knot of the towel
nearly came undone. She tightened it up.
"So what was . . . I lost the thread here." The wonder was that I
hadn't.
"Do you not remember her twelfth birthday party?"
"N-n-no . . . "
"Her parent's rented out _Monzoni's_. And not just one of the private
rooms. The whole place for the whole evening. On a _Saturday_ night!"
"Oh yea, oh yea!" Janine was fairly bouncing up and down with the
memory.
"Right, the night that forever ruined me for regular steak."
"_Oh god, oh god_," Janine fell into a fit, "you staring at the slab of
Mom's special meatloaf on your plate and going, 'If _Monzoni's_ serves
cow, then what exactly is _this_?'"
"So, at any rate, I doubt they're all sitting down to a meal provided by
_3 Guys & A Van Catering Service_. Probably it's like, you know, a chef
at every table."
Janine shifted again and adjusted her towel. This was driving me nuts.
She was showing more thigh than I'd seen on some naked women. "Are you
serious then? About _Monzoni's Revenge_?"
"Naw. Probably revive the dinner plans I had last night before Mom
called."
She lifted an eyebrow.
"Couple beers and call up a pizza. Beer's already in the fridge. I
picked up a six-pack of good stuff on my way in, but then wound up too
tired to want to waste one."
"Hey! That sounds great! Are you ready now, or should I wait awhile to
call?"
"Well, _I'm_ ready."
"That makes it unanimous."
"_Really?_"
She shot me a queer look.
"_Ahem!_"
She still did not catch on.
"I mean, hey Janine! Like, you plan on answering the door in that
outfit."
She gazed at me very curiously.
"Or is that how you tip the delivery person?"
Janine burst out laughing. "So _that's_ it! You want me to get
dressed. That's what's had you all nervous."
"Nervous? Me? No. About what?"
"Come on, Tony! I've known you since the day you were born. Quiet kind
of guy, but get you nervous and you turn into the manic comic."
"What are you talking about? I'm always funny."
"You're always funny," she echoed.
What was she getting at? I wondered. "Janine, I'm trying to discuss
dinner plans with someone wearing a towel. Barely."
"Barely the discussion, or barely the towel?" she laughed.
"_Both!_"
"Geez, Tony, get a grip. _Hello?_ This is Janine talking, Janine your
sister."
"Well, I _know_," I spluttered, "duh, and I'm your brother. But it's
still distracting. I mean, you're a well-constructed woman, and I'm a
poorly-connected man. See what I'm saying? It's hard for me to
concentrate, considering that the extent of my intimate life lately has
been limited to the bra ads in the Sunday paper."
I quit trying to say what I meant. It wasn't that I was saying it all
wrong; there was just no way for it to be the right thing to say.
Janine gave me a quizzical look. "Tony, are you trying to say you . . .
_want_ me?"
"Yes, I mean _no!_ I want you . . . _to put some clothes on!_"
It was a cool and appraising gaze that washed over me. The familiar set
to her mouth let me know she was ready to sit there until the damn towel
rotted off her body, and that likely even then she wouldn't budge.
Wordlessly I stood up, stepped over her legs, and left the room.
Which would be better, or less worse? To grab my grip and go, or stay
and suffer through Sunday dinner? I slunk back to the bedroom. So much
for Normal Tony mode.
+ + +
Janine stepped into the room without knocking; these things _must_ be
genetic. Granted, the door was well ajar. She was wearing the
frumpiest dress imaginable. It looked like it was altered from an old
cotton-picking sack. Beigey brown the way white cloth would get after a
couple generations of being dragged along the ground. The hem hung
almost to her ankles. Definitely a dress to appeal to a different era,
an age that would invent such a phrase as _a well-turned ankle_.
Imagine getting a boner over that! I guess you took what you got. Not
even a hint of breasts in that dress. Imagine the honeymoon heart-
attack: _w-wh-what are those?!_
"There, is this better?" Janine didn't even pretend to look glamorous.
No pirouettes or turns. She stood with her arms pressed tightly to her
sides, as though standing at attention.
"Where have you been shopping? The Nineteenth Century?"
She barked a laugh. "Found it in Mom's closet!"
"God, I didn't know she was _that_ old."
A quick snort. "It's from before you were born. Before we moved back
from the Little House on the Prairie."
The show of wit was a sure sign her good mood had returned. "Listen
Janine, I'm sorry about all that in there. Just forget about it, okay?
I don't know what came over me. You know, my life kind of sucks right
now, and I'm pretty stressed out having to come down for this and . . .
and . . . ," and she wasn't listening to a word I was saying.
She was involved in some odd movements, a bizarre dance of sorts.
Bending with her head tucked down, shoulders hunched forward. She held
her arms stiff and straight down, sort of _flapping_ them. Janine did
resemble a large frail-boned creature, a land-bird trying to remember
how to fly.
It took the dress slipping off her shoulders for me to finally
understand what she was doing. The thing zipped all the way up the
back. That is, the potential for fastening the back existed.
>From that point, time went into a skid. I watched for hours as the
dress dropped loosely around Janine. She finished shrugging, the top
sliding down her arms, collapsing across her front. The fabric bunched
momentarily at her hips. A quick shimmy shook it off. In the end, only
her feet and those well-turned ankles remained covered.
Janine stood there looking like _The Birth of Venus_ without the
clamshell. A crumpled lump of dirty-looking cloth--instead of the
pounding surf, she was emerging from a muddy puddle.
It was deer-in-the-headlights time. My sister was--there was no other
word for the sight--_gorgeous_.
I struggled for the right phrasing. But I'd left all the _bon mots_ in
a box at home.
Janine stepped out of the heap of cloth. "Or is _this_ better?"
"Janine?" I was getting cleverer by the moment. "_Janine!_"
"You know the order of these things, Tony. First the wedding. Then the
_honeymoon_." Her eyebrows did a waggly sort of dance.
"Um, Janine," I sputtered, "you're forgetting something: _we weren't
the ones who got married_."
"But that's the thing," she purred, "weddings are _so romantic_, they
put everyone in the mood for a little honeymoon magic. Being down at
this end of the house, I guess you didn't hear Mom and Dad going at it
like cats. Why do you think there's always the gap of a few hours
between the ceremony and the reception?"
Things were almost getting back to normal. There was still this
beautiful naked woman standing in front of me. But she was clearly my
sister, and obviously attempting some sort of joke at my expense.
"_Duh!_ To give the lucky couple time to drive around in the goofy car
and brag about how lucky they are."
Janine looked at me as if I was talking in a foreign language.
"Oh, come on! You know. _Honk, honk--hey everybody, we're gonna have
some wild sex tonight!_"
"_Ooh_," she squealed, "toot my horn again! Now you're talking my
language."
Stepped right into that one. After a lifetime of feeding Janine
straight lines, you think just once I'd see the traps in advance. As
well, you'd think I'd just give up trying to deny her what she wanted.
I'd never been successful, no matter my protests, and I didn't know why
I thought this time would be any different.
"And, and, and after the car," I kept attempting, "there _is_ the
reception. Dinner, drinks, dancing. And then another drive to the moon
of the honey."
"Aw, screw all that stuff, let's just jump to the good part."
"B-b-but Janine, that'd be _incest!_"
Janine roared with laughter. "How does my pussy differ from any other?
And what does your cock care?! Quit thinking with your head, Tony. You
guys aren't supposed to do that!" The smile on her face widened into a
blur as she shook her head. "What, like my pussy has some sort of
biblical bear-trap buried inside? Geez, I'm not asking you to help me
narrow the gene pool or anything. I don't want to settle down with you
and our brood of adorable little three-toed sloths." Janinie took a few
hip-rolling steps towards the bed. "I just wanna have some fun tonight.
You're a fun-loving kind of guy, aren't you Tony?" She stared at me in
a way that made me feel as if I was the one without any clothes. "I
mean, you were practically drooling in my lap a few minutes ago. And I
bet you're drooling in your own lap by now. So whip it out and let me
lick it off!"
"I'm not interested, Janine," I lied.
"You're not interested in this?" she began lightly fingering herself.
"Funny," she advanced to the foot of the bed, "you seemed pretty
interested not so long ago."
"I explained about that already. I apologized. See? You're not even
wearing a damn towel now, and I'm okay with it."
"I bet you are." She clambered onto the bed on her knees. "I wasn't
referring to _then_, Tony."
I stared back at her, blinking.
"I heard the doorknob, Tony. There I was, feeling sort of horny. Mom
and Dad had already gone. I figured you'd be flaked out for another
hour. Then, _squeak_. I heard when you finally stepped away. Took a
long time, Tony. Took a long look, didn't you Tony? Why do you think I
put on such a show? Can't say I didn't enjoy myself. Can't say I don't
want to enjoy myself some more. Is that what you want? Would you like
me to put on another show? Would that revive your, um . . .
_interest_?"
I was at a loss for any response. I lay there watching as Janine
scooted between my legs, settling back to sit on her heels. While
staring intently at me she used both hands to spread herself fully,
putting herself on clear display as she began fingering herself. Soon
enough her left hand abandoned her crotch to trail over the fabric
covering mine. "Doesn't really feel like your interest needs that much
reviving."
As if that wasn't apparent from sight alone.
The rattle of the buckle, the pop of the snap, then _zzzzzzzzzip_.
Janine grabbed the waist of my pants and underwear and started to tug
them down as one. "Better give me some help here, Tony, if you don't
want me to break it off."
I lifted my hips.
"More assistance please!"
Reaching down with my hands I freed and protected myself as she gave a
great pull, yanking all my covering down to my thighs. I tried to keep
my privates hidden, but even both hands didn't quite do the job.
Janine had to stop to clamber from between my legs. She lengthened the
pause to look down and chortle. Then she grabbed my wrists and flung my
arms away. I may have been in a thoroughly confused state, but my cock
was having a great time. So much wonderful attention! Bobbing around
like a pet parrot on its perch. Singing its song--_Pretty cock, pretty
cock, look at me!_
Look at me she did, rather fondly. She gazed at my cock in nearly a
trance, reaching a finger to trace its length. "_Geez_, Tony. Nice
cock!" Then she turned her eyes to mine and scowled. "Hey, we're
family, you know. How come you've been keeping this big secret from
me?"
She gave a growl and set to stripping me from the waist down, shifting
on her hands and knees to face my feet. "I want to see that shirt off
by the time I'm done down here," Janine ordered.
"_Janine_," I moaned, "why are you doing this?"
"'Why?'" she answered with a hearty grin. "That's obvious--_why not?!_"
She shot back a thoughtful look. "Because you're a stubborn little
bastard. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna sleep on the fucking sofa
tonight."
That clarified, I tried another angle. "But what about dinner?"
Janine was too busy to answer right away. My pants were turned inside
out and the cloth had clogged around my ankles. Though my shoes were
off, my socks were complicating the proceedings. Her efforts set her
ass swaying; such a sweet ass, swaying just a few feet from my face.
And between the cheeks the dark dampness of her vulva, swollen and
framed by sticky curls of hair. I could see how the wetness of her sex
had spread to her inner thighs.
With a great grunt she tugged the pants past my feet. "I guess we'll
just have to call it breakfast," she panted.
Then she backed up and the vision came even more clearly into focus.
Janine sat up on her haunches, a hand casually stroking my cock.
"This is all the nourishment I need right now," she stated in nearly a
whisper. Her free hand swept her hair out of the way as she leaned down
and took me into her mouth. Her warm mouth. Her warm, wet mouth. Her
wet, sucking mouth. Her mouth full of swirling tongue.
"Oh Janine, this isn't right."
"What? Are you trying to tell me I don't know how to suck cock?" She
went back at it to show me a good glimpse of the extent of her
knowledge. "Just relax, Tony, relax and enjoy. And will you please
stop talking all that stupid shit, okay?" Back to work she went.
No, I was definitely _not_ trying to tell her she didn't know how to
suck cock. Janine knew exactly what she was _doing_. I too knew
_exactly_ what she was doing. Her tongue was somehow completely
surrounding the head of my cock; then she plunged me deep down her
throat and sort of _swallowed_. She was serving up the _Monzoni's_ of
blow jobs. I'd never be satisfied by ground round again.
I was squirming and groaning, my hips thrusting on their own accord.
"We really shouldn't be doing this," I whimpered without conviction.
Abruptly she pulled her head up and started shifting her legs. "But
god, don't stop!" I whined.
"Shut you up," Janine replied. "Tony, I think it's time to give your
mouth something else to do."
Scooting over, she swung a leg over me. Her hind end was hovering a
foot above my face. I could smell her cunt just as well as I could see
it. In a blinding fury I surrendered completely. I wanted to feel it
pressed to my lips; I wanted to taste her! My hands moved on their own
volition, reaching up to grab palmfuls of her softly rounded ass. They
tightened their grip and pulled her down, bringing the wet pinkness of
her sex to my hungry mouth.
I kissed her sticky lips gently, over and over, before I began to slowly
let my tongue slip between them, tracing the length of her plush slit
teasingly then darting more fully into her folds, finding at last the
wild depths of her hole. The whole of my lower face was soon coated in
her pungent sauce.
Janine went crazy on my cock, illustrating the grunts of her
appreciation, until I lowered my attention to her clit, flicking it,
licking it then sucking it. She ground her crotch against my mouth,
forgetting about me completely as she concentrated on her own pleasure.
Though my ears were muffled by her thighs, I could hear the phrasing of
her response, the fast gasp followed by the slow groan. I felt the
first flicker as she shifted into a panting whine, a tremble of
anticipation building in her legs. I backed off to give Janine
something different to think about. She didn't think much of it,
bucking against me, shrieking, "Damn it, Tony, _do it!_"
"What's the magic word?"
"_NOW!!_ please?"
Do it I did, aiming to please now. "Is this better?" I abruptly
slipped two fingers into her cunt right as my lips and tongue returned
to her clit. Janine screamed as her loins exploded, the spasms shooting
shivers through her limbs. She _dropped_ on top of me, the dead weight
of her nearly crushing the breath out of me. Finally I had to roll us
over just to gain a good draw of air.
The motion seemed to revive Janine a little. She giggled as I felt
fingers tickling my dangling balls. Another hand wrapped around my
shaft, slowly pumping it to its full inflation. She began planting
kisses on the head, but it was evident from her squirming that she
wanted my cock somewhere besides her mouth.
My only problem with that was I hadn't been within spitting--much less
licking--distance of a cunt for a number of months. And there was her
luscious flower, petals in full bloom, heady in scent, scant inches
away. The nectar of her sex was spilled in a wide oval all down her
thighs. There was only one way to lap it all up--with a tongue gone
wide and wild. I dove back in, catching Janine by surprise.
"Oh no, god Tony, oh my god, oh Tony, god no, I mean yea, oh yea, oh my
god yea, oh yea, god, yea . . . " She stuck my cock in her mouth to
shut herself up, giving it half-hearted sucks between moans. I doubt
Janine was more amazed than me when she came again so quickly. And so
forcefully.
This time I was the one to crawl around, drawing my face above hers. My
hips slipped easily between the wide spread of her legs. Janine reached
up for my head, pulling my face down to hers for a sloppy, exaggerated
kiss. Then she looked up at me. "You're not going to fuck me now, are
you? Are you going to fuck me, Tony? My pussy's so wet and ready, but
remember: I'm your sister. Are you really going to jam that big cock
of yours inside of me?"
I decided on my tact. My cock was positioned at her entrance. "Only if
that's what _you_ want."
Janine didn't budge, so I gave a nudge. "Say the magic words."
"Good god, Tony. _Fuck me now!_"
Close enough to win the cigar! I'd take great pleasure in personally
delivering _that_ prize.
I pushed and pushed and pushed, but something was terribly wrong.
Janine's face was clenched in a grimace. No matter how I repositioned
myself, I couldn't get even the full head of my cock to penetrate. My
expression must have been of complete bafflement--when Janine opened her
eyes, she took one look at me, and burst out laughing. Her vaginal
muscles went slack; with an abrupt lurch, I slid all the way inside her.
I was like a car spinning its tires on ice, finally catching a patch of
pavement. She gasped as I sunk inside her. That wasn't fair! It was
my turn to gasp.
Then Janine stole the words out of my mouth. "There, is this better?"
Better? The months of drought seemed like years to me, but my cock's
memory was placing her as the best.
With a sly smile, her cunt gave me a firm squeeze. "Or is that better?"
"_Don't do that_," I groaned.
She grinned and did.
"My god, Janine, one more time and it's all over."
She did it again and it should have been all over, but she reached down
and grabbed the base of my cock in an excruciatingly tight grip. I was
in pain, but the tide was turned. We kept very still until I was safe
to play some more.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
Janine just smiled.
Figuring a moving target would be harder for her to catch, I began
almost stoically stroking in and out. Janine wiggled her pelvis,
locking her legs around my waist. She twisted her head back and forth,
murmuring, "Uhmmm, very nice."
Janine rippled with a minor orgasm, and then I diminished the pace,
settling in for the long haul. She pulled my head down for a leisurely
kiss that gradually grew in urgency. Her hands held me from behind, the
flat of the palms rubbing up and down my back as she began building to a
better peak. With each breath she broke for she whispered my name.
I was fascinated witnessing her responses, while well aware of the
swelling of my own. It was like being in a trance, feeling Janine
writhing and undulating beneath me, succumbing to the sensations
emanating from her center. The whole situation was so surreal, like a
dream suddenly sprung true. Or a very private, long-buried adolescent
fantasy, after gestating for years, bursting in a blur beyond the border
into the land of fact.
Janine slipped her hands to my ass and started kneading the cheeks as if
to squeeze every drop of come out of my body, though she'd begun too
late to concentrate on me. The walls of her cunt were contracting
around my cock, but Janine wasn't playing games this time around. Her
back arched and I slipped my hands in the gap and gripped her ass. As
her eyes closed her mouth opened, letting out a choked, stuttering cry
while her hips gave a great heave and she crashed through the barrier
into ecstasy.
Before she'd fully recovered, her hands were at it again, pulling my
pelvis hard against hers. It was too late for me to do anything but let
go. Right as I erupted another set of delirious waves took Janine by
total surprise.
We lay there still locked together as our orgasms ebbed, smiling and
staring with wonderment at each other. Eventually Janine loosened her
grip enough to allow me to roll off to her side.
We continued like that, panting lightly from our exertions, looking at
one another, marveling, the same silly smiles of satisfaction seemingly
permanent fixtures on our faces.
Janine was the first to break the silence. "Goddamn, Tony. If I'd
known it would be better than better, I would've jumped you a long time
ago."
I was astonished. "You thought of it before?"
She wrinkled her nose in the cutest way. "I _thought_ of it. I always
knew you were thinking of it."
"_What?_"
Janine giggled at me. "You boys. You think you can hide your
erections! Seemed like there were a couple years there when all I had
to do was walk in the room and you'd be grabbing like mad for a magazine
or pillow to put in your lap."
I stared at her with disbelief.
"Come on, Tony," she poked me with a finger. "Back there in the
livingroom," the hand strayed down to give me a light tug, "I could see
this little guy getting nice and big."
She was speaking the truth.
"So I thought, hmmm . . . "
"And what a _hmmm_ it was."
"Hmmm, indeed. Glad you liked as much as I did. Say, are you still
hungry?"
I snorted. "See for yourself!"
Janine gave me a shove, then cupped the whole of my cock--limp and
little, but very happy. "Not here, dummy. Here," moving her hand up
flat on my stomach.
"Well . . . "
"The night is but a pup. We could probably use some sustenance. Some
fuel to keep the fire blazing." Janine gave me a fiery kiss, watching
me with eyes gone smoldering. Yup, the coals were still hot.
She slid away from me and got out of bed, heading directly to the
doorway, not bothering with so much as a towel. A shiver ran up her
spine and she stopped, turning around to face me. She looked at me open
mouthed, her tongue running across the bottom of her upper teeth. Her
hand dropped between her legs and she scraped a finger up the inside of
her thigh; slowly, so slowly, she moved the finger to her mouth, stuck
it in, and sucked it clean.
"Mmm, tasty."
"God, Janine!"
She just laughed a little.
"Where are you going, anyway?"
"Dummy! Call up a pizza. Half an hour to get it, half an hour to eat
it, and then . . . "
And then she fixed me with a look so piercing that I felt like . . .
like I was lying in bed completely naked!
+ + +
In a vague dreamy state I sort of felt a shifting of the covers. My
cheek was graced with a kiss, and then the bed rocked with the motion of
a body departing its warm haven. My eyelids fluttered weakly and I
caught a brief image of Janine pulling on a shirt before they fell
closed again. A delicious surge of memory coursed through my body as I
snuggled down into the pillow. I gave a small sigh, partly of
disappointment that she was getting up, but also that of contentment--a
combination of the lingering memories, the knowledge that I didn't have
to get up, and that in swimming back to sleep the whole sea of the bed
would be all mine.
I drifted like that for over an hour, my dreams informed by the sounds
of the shower, the door of the linen closet in the hall opening and
closing, footfalls of bare feet on hardwood floors, the rattly noises of
a kitchen, and then Janine's voice. Talking, talking, talking. As I
woke up fully I figured the folks must be home. But that didn't seem
right. It was only half past nine, and Mom had said something about not
waiting lunch on them--and not eating so late that we'd be too full for
the big family dinner.
I came to understand the curious nature of Janine's conversation: it
was entirely one-sided. While I couldn't make out a word she was
saying, I could hear that hers was the only voice. The psychotic
ramifications chilled me--she'd never been one to talk to herself. If
she'd just started up this morning, there was probably a butcher knife
in my near future! I crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts,
determined to go bravely to my death. Or to see if there was any way to
avoid it.
Peering cautiously around the doorjamb I saw a sight I'd seen hundreds
of times. Janine stood in the kitchen wearing a t-shirt that didn't
quite cover her panties, twirling in little circles as she talked on the
phone.
"That's right. That's right. I really appreciate all your help. Thank
you _very_ much!"
Janine hung up and saw me standing there. "Oh no, you don't!" she
shouted, sweeping towards me, making shoving motions with her arms.
"Get back in bed, Dr. Janine's orders!"
Upon reaching me, she began pushing me backwards in that direction. The
lust in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Oh-h-h, I don't know about that. I might be all fucked out."
"Oh no, you aren't!"
Janine marched me crisply into the room, to the very edge of the bed.
"Come on, Janine! Mom and Dad could be coming home any minute."
"Oh no, they won't," she declared while pulling off her shirt.
I caught a brief glimpse of her tits, then she flung the shirt in my
face. In my moment of blindness she toppled me onto the bed. Before I
could get my head unwrapped I was thrown off guard again, my legs in the
air as she yanked off my shorts.
When I could see once more, the sight I saw was of Janine stepping
daintily out of her panties. Then she leaped on me, holding the ball of
them to my nose.
I lost the last of my doubts about the whole pheromone business. One
good whiff of her and I wouldn't have cared if the folks had been
standing there in the doorway. I grabbed Janine by the shoulders and
pulled her more fully on top of me.
"That's better!" she growled, eyes all a-glitter.
I may have thought I was all fucked out, but my cock begged to differ.
My cock was _begging_ to differ. Janine lifted her haunches and reached
under to grab it; she held me in place and sank down in a one-step
operation.
"God Janine, you're so wet! What were you doing on the phone--talking
on the sex lines?"
"Smart-ass," she smirked. "Life is rough; sometimes you gotta put
business before pleasure. Though it did use up every last drop of self-
control I had. But someone had to cover the couch with rumpled looking
sheets."
"Are you sure you got them authentically rumpled?" I waggled my
eyebrows.
"_Tony!_" she gaped down at me, "no way! Geez, we've already got one
set of sheets we're going to have to burn. Remind me to remind you to
_strip_ this bed before noon. Now quit talking. You've got a sex bomb
sitting on top of you, and she's ready to explode."
Ready she was. Janine rose all the way up, then all the way down on me,
up and down, up then down. I reached up and played with her pretty
breasts, pretty as all of her but the easiest part to reach. Cupping
and molding the soft mounds with my palms. She hissed a sharp intake of
breath each time I gently tweaked her nipples. At the end of an
upstroke she hesitated, then leaned down, her breasts descending in an
offering. With a slight duck of my head I was able to take the tip of
one in my mouth. Then the other, guiding her torso with my hands. She
slithered back and forth on the first inch or two of my cock while I
suckled.
But after a few minutes of this Janine gave way to gravity, burying my
cock fully inside her as she draped herself atop me, her face deep in
the cleft between my shoulder and neck. Her pelvis was a machine with
its own mind, rhythmically humping against mine at a furious pace. I
reached around with my hands, each one grabbing a cheek of her ass. I
pushed them together, then spread them wide apart. I pulled them up,
then slammed them down. Janine huffed and puffed right below my ear;
within moments she gave a strangled cry then groaned low and long as the
throes of orgasm overtook her.
Holding her tight as she lay quivering against me, I marveled once again
at the holiness of the past twelve hours. Not only was I witnessing
miracles of the human flesh, but I was directly involved in the creative
process.
I was almost certain that Janine had fallen back asleep when she
suddenly sat straight up. With a small smile she shuffled around,
turning 180 degrees without losing me from her cunt. I was well on the
way to appreciating the view of the fresh perspective when she lifted
herself off me completely. She bent forward as if to go on all fours,
but then her arms folded up under her and her head came to rest on the
bedding between my ankles. There was the maddening sight of our sexes,
in full arousal, separated by scant inches.
"Do me like this, Tony," she murmured. "I _really_ enjoy this
position."
As if she hadn't been really enjoying every other position--repeatedly--
until now. Not that I felt inclined to argue semantics or sexual
preferences.
There was the sweet spread of her ass, the nest of her wanton wanting
nestled beneath it. Waiting for me to complete the picture.
I slid my legs out from under her, got to my knees, and parked my need
behind her. Easily I slipped back inside Janine. If she wanted to be
done like a dog, I was definitely the dog to do it.
My hands wanted to be everywhere all at once! I slid my fingers around
the slippery juncture of our sexes, then my hands reached up to press on
the cheeks of her ass. From there they rubbed up and down the luscious
plain of her back until I leaned over and afforded them full access to
her breasts.
"God, Janine," I breathed in her ear, "how can anything feel this
great?"
"I don't know, but it sure does."
I went pumping away, reveling in the moan with which she greeted every
thrust. One hand left a breast, dipping down to rub her clit for good
luck. Janine responded in kind, cradling and gently squeezing my
scrotum. We were teasing each other to a feverish pitch, drawing away
then coming back.
Just as we'd again granted each other gasping room, we both heard the
whine coming up the drive. We froze. I would have stayed still until
the slamming of the car doors sent me scurrying for clothes. But
sensible Janine bucked back against me shouting, "Now, Tony, _now!_"
And now it was. Within three thrusts Janine was screaming out her
pleasure as my cock filled her cunt with another load of come.
I was still dribbling when she pulled away, clambered off the bed, and
began stumbling into her clothes. "You," she shot at me, "go hop in the
shower right now!"
+ + +
I danced dripping wet across the hall wearing a terry cloth skirt,
winking at Janine as I went. She was talking to Mom, who was facing
away from my direction. Janine made her eyes go round in parody of an
expression, but that was the extent to which she could react. I wiggled
my behind, then hopped into the bedroom. Hastily I pulled up the covers
on the bed, reminding myself to remind myself later to take care of the
sheets.
Once I was dressed I joined the two of them in the kitchen, sitting with
them at the table, but politely declining a glass of orange juice.
"Hog all the hot water again?" Janine fell back to form.
I answered in the sweetest tone I could muster, "Oh Janine, give it time
to recover and it'll be just as hot as you like it."
The snort she tried to suppress nearly choked her instead.
"Honey, are you okay?"
"Yea yea," she managed to croak, "must have swallowed some pulp the
wrong way."
I was on the verge of wondering aloud why Janine would possibly need to
shower twice in one morning. She saw that I was about to say something
of the sort; her stare told me that I'd better not.
I shifted my attention instead. "Gosh Mom, I thought you guys weren't
going to be home until after lunch."
"Oh well," she turned to me with a chirp, "early to bed, early to rise."
The twinkle in her eye told the whole story. Which shocked me. I
didn't think she even knew what sexual innuendo was. "Frankly, I'm
surprised to see you up showered, shaved and dressed at this hour."
"It's not that early," I sputtered.
"For you, it is!"
_Early to bed, early to rise_, indeed! Janine shot me another shut-up
look.
"So what are we doing for lunch, anyway? I ate up all the tainted ham
yesterday." My mind was clicking away, the formula falling into place.
Mom goes to the grocery _plus_ makes Dad go along to carry the bags
_equals_ woo-hoo!
"Oh, there was nothing wrong with that ham, Tony, and you know it. It
didn't kill you, did it?"
"No. But some pretty weird stuff happened to me right after I did eat
it. And then I was up for most of the night."
Fortunately Janine was barefoot, otherwise the blow under the table
would have shattered my tibia.
"_OW!_"
"I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't mean to kick you."
"And actually, we stopped for some brunch on the drive home. But we did
order to-go for you kids. Where is that bag? I thought your father was
bringing it in." Her brows shot up and then she rolled her eyes. "Oh.
I thought he understood it was for you all. Let me go catch him before
he eats it all himself."
Oh, great. Food so fast it's gone cold and begun to decompose. Our
only hope was that Dad was even faster.
Once Mom was out of earshot, Janine leaned across the table to whisper
at me. Her smile belied her furious tone. "Tony, if you can't keep
your mouth shut, I'm gonna shut it for you. I need to take another
shower for the same reason I need to change my panties; for the same
reason I need to change my pants." She stood up and started down the
hall to the bathroom, then stopped and walked back to me. After a
glance over her shoulder she grabbed me by the ears and pulled my mouth
to hers for a quick but deep kiss. "And for the same reason you better
grab a paper towel and dry off the seat of that chair I was just in!"
She sauntered off and left me to the task.
Mom was already returning from the livingroom with the sack in question,
beaming, "Just in the nick of time!"
"Shoot!" I shouted, quickly dumping the closest glass of juice on the
chair.
"What's the matter, Tony?"
"Nothing, Mom. Just stood up too fast, bumped the table and tumped some
juice."
"Don't worry about that, Tony, I'll get it. You go ahead and eat."
"Oh no no no." I grabbed some paper towels and began mopping. "I made
the mess--I'll clean it up."
"Just make sure you finish off with a damp sponge, okay Tony?
Otherwise, that sweet stuff, it'll dry sticky."
I took a real deep breath. "Sure, Mom."
While I finished up she divided the contents of the sack between two
plates. Sunday brunch would be those little sausage biscuits and french
fries. That's what I kept telling myself. It looked more like dirt and
stones and worms.
Dad the scavenger came strolling in from the livingroom. He was
carrying the remote like some sort of bionic extension. "Mmm, something
smells good."
I couldn't imagine what. "Help yourself, Dad. I'm not all that
hungry."
What a Renaissance Man. He could talk and chew at the same time. "So
how'd you guys make out last night? _Mwum mwum_. Weren't too lonely
without us, _Mwum Mwum_, I hope."
"Oh fine, fine. Had a pizza delivered, and watched tons of t.v."
"Really? How'd you get this thing to work?"
Uh oh. _Think fast!_ "Popped in some batteries from the drawer. I
guess they didn't have but a night's worth of life left in them. Here,
let me see that." I threw the dead batteries away and got the good ones
back out of the drawer. "So what were you doing in the livingroom all
this time?"
"Drawing up, _mwum mwum_, plans!"
"You know your Dad, Tony. Being by the lake _inspired_ him. Think of
the backyard in terms of our own private lake."
"_Mwum_, with an island in the middle."
"A puddle, you mean? Dad, tear down the garage, and the backyard would
be twice its current size."
"Gotta, _mwum_, gotta think big, son. _Mwum mwum_, there are times,
_mwum_, when you need to cast logic aside, _mwum mwum_, and just go for
your dreams."
Exactly such a towel-clad apparition leaned out of the bathroom. "Tony,
could you go grab my bag out of the livingroom?"
"What's the magic word?"
"_Now!_ please?"
I placed the remote on the table beside Dad, then turned do my sister's
bidding.
When I went to pass the bag in to Janine, I found the towel was gone.
She opened the door wider to give me a good look, then winked and closed
it completely.
I fairly rushed back to the table full of impossible plans myself. "So,
dinner, then. We'll be having it right after naptime?"
"Oh, dinner will be early, so Janine has plenty of time to catch her
flight. So no nap for me. Big old style family dinner, Tony, I
promised you that. Hours in the preparation. Besides, I feel oddly
perky today."
Dad stood up, brandishing the remote. "No nap for me either! I have a
lot of catching up to do."
Mom followed him into the livingroom with a long list of questions I
didn't hear. My ears were too full of Janine's voice as she sidled up
beside me. "No nap? Oh, poor Tony." A hand drifted down to the front
of my pants. "Can't get enough of me?" The answer to that was very
much in evidence. "I know exactly how you feel."
Then she stood back and grinned at me. "Hey big boy, you better go grab
yourself a magazine or something."
Sure, she said she knew exactly how I felt. But for the rest of the day
Janine resolutely refused to allow me to entice her out for a walk, out
for a drive. Go down in the basement to pick through childhood relics?
Nope.
+ + +
I spent the afternoon pretending that I wasn't moping around the house.
This was an extremely difficult task. When I holed up in the bedroom, I
was accused of being anti-social. It was unbearable being in the
kitchen, watching Janine bounce around helping put dinner together. I
was in no mood to chop a bunch of celery. The livingroom, of course,
was booming with a multi-hour hypothetical re-creation of the Hanging
Gardens of Babylon. I didn't want to listen to Dad's plans to turn the
roof gutters into planters.
Finally I wound up sitting out on the front porch, watching the slow
wane of a pretty day. I had a cup of coffee, which probably wasn't the
best beverage for my nerves, but its constituent parts were so soothing.
The odd unique smell of it, the taste of it bitter even sweetened with
sugar, the steamy warmth bathing my face. My right foot was tapping out
the seconds, which I found irritating but could in no way control.
Finally I swung that leg up, crossing it over the other. Within a
minute the damn thing was a pendulum. I was restless and ready to go
home and resume my real life.
I was startled by a shadow. Janine had appeared on the porch. She
smiled and curtsied. "Dinner is served, m'lord." She'd darted back
inside before I could stand up.
Actually, dinner was still about ten minutes from the table. The call
was a ruse to get me to help set the table. I accomplished this in
about two minutes, amid great clatter and crash.
"Gentle, Tony, gentle," Mom admonished.
"Really," Janine joined in. "Geez, Tony, why don't you save yourself a
step and just break everything over the garbage can."
I dodged into the bedroom to pack up my bag. In there I noticed the bed
was neatly made. I turned back a corner of the covers; fresh sheets.
The good fairy had struck, and I was hoping its name began with a J.
Sure enough, back in the kitchen I heard the roar of the dryer start up,
and then Janine stepped out of the laundry room. I mouthed a _thank
you_. She wagged a finger in admonishment. But _she_ had forgotten to
remind _me_. Then again, I had forgotten to remind her to remind me.
Dinner was the expected torture of a full-scale meal laid out in the
formal diningroom. The food was delicious, but that's never much of a
consolation to those without appetite. Mom was a wizard with food when
she wanted to be, and Janine was no slouch herself. As usual, about
every mouthful, mid-mouthful, Dad would look up across the table at Mom,
"Honey, _mwum mwum_, you really outdid yourself this time, _mwum mwum_."
>From his left, Janine would pipe up, "Hey old man, ahem, I was a major
player in this operation, you know."
"That's right, dear," Mom would chide Dad, "without Janine's help, you'd
swear you were eating at Arby's" I would be next in the circle of
conversation, but I wouldn't even have to pass; Dad would jump back in,
"Hey, _mwum mwum_, that's good food, too."
I pushed the food around on my plate to make it look like I was eating.
Every now and then I'd pause to take an actual bite.
"I mean, _mwum mwum_, you really outdid yourself."
And the whole cycle would start again. I kept wondering what hell-
family t.v. show I'd fallen into. I felt like we'd all sort of slipped
through a crack in time, and I was back to being about thirteen again.
This was exactly every family dinner I suffered through, with one major
exception. Beneath the table was a completely different domain.
Janine's foot kept creeping over and trying to make amends to my bruised
shin. Then it would climb up my leg and crawl into my lap. And a very
affectionate foot it was!
Dad launched into a virtual dissertation combining landscaping and fine
fast food that seemed to have as a time-frame some dozen years ago. As
a family, we would all join together in turning the backyard into a
haven for crops and cows, which, passing through the bun bakery of the
house, would wind up gathered together as spectacular sandwiches sold
out on the front lawn. Presumably from some sort of shed licensed by
the Health Department. Our collective fortune we would make. Mom
smiled and nodded, knowing his dreams to be clouds quickly scudding
beyond the horizon. Janine sat there beatific, exactly as she would in
her easy position in the shed selling our ware. I tried my best to
listen and understand, hoping to gain some insight into my corrupted
genes, but I kept getting distracted.
The Janine-above-the-table gave no indication that she had any idea what
her foot was doing. Persistent bugger. I kept pushing it away. _I
don't think so!_ Flanked by the folks while getting an under-the-table
footjob was _not_ in my future.
At the earliest opportunity I stood up and excused myself, using the
pretense of clearing the table. Once in the kitchen I decided to start
the washing up. Having established myself in that position, extrication
was impossible. I was glued to the sink by Mom's appreciation. Which
was just as well. Forty minutes or so, including scrubbing the counters
and scouring the sink. Then I'd be out of there. Without having to
have engaged myself with any more company than my reflection in the
window above the sink.
I was just starting in on the pots and pans when Mom stepped into the
kitchen and announced, "Janine wants to go on out to the airport now."
As though on cue, she appeared in the doorway holding her bag.
"Oh, okay. Better early than late. Well, have a safe trip, Janine," I
gave a feeble wave of a sudsy hand, "It's been great getting to see you
again." I felt like I was reading off some generic script. It was
better that way. To Mom I said, "I'm going to finish up in here, but
I'll probably head out before you and Dad get back. I'll give you a
call later this week."
They both stood there looking at me as though waiting for me to speak.
"Oh, well, Tony," Mom began, "I was thinking that maybe since you were
going to be leaving soon anyway . . . I can do the rest of this."
Relieved of kitchen duty and given the excuse to get going . . . sounded
like a good trade to me. The drive to the airport was bound to be
awkward, but hell, that was ten minutes of misery, max. I reached for
the dish towel and dried my hands. "Sure. Ready then? Let me go grab
my bag."
Mom was all hugs and a million thanks, but my eardrums had turned to
tin. Every word sort of clanged then bounced away. Luckily Dad was too
busy to bother getting up. He waved from his throne, booming, "Next
time, Tony! Don't be such a stranger, Janine!"
We carried a silence out to the garage along with our bags. The bags we
stashed wordlessly in the trunk; the silence followed us into the car.
It was such a large silence that the only way for it to fit was to lay
across our laps. We slammed our doors not quite in unison, creating an
illusionary echo. I started in my seat, but was grateful for the aural
diversion.
Once we were in motion, the ragged straining of the engine was an
excellent distraction. I reminded myself for the fourth time in as many
months to book the car in for a tune-up. What I usually did to mask the
engine's complaints was crank the stereo. But I didn't want to mess
with finding a decent station in this town. A cassette or CD would have
meant brushing past Janine's knees to open the glove box; I wasn't too
keen on opening myself up to ridicule for my musical tastes. There was
a tape in the stereo from the drive down, but I wasn't about to air
that. It was one I'd made myself, recording the sound outside a die-
stamping factory, overdubbing bits of bandsaws, hammer blows, the roar
of a freeway and the white noise off a shortwave. I called it my
motivational tape, my exercise in stress-reduction.
As with any constant, familiar sound, I soon ceased hearing the engine's
drone.
We drove and drove in this false silence until the road ended at the
main drag. Right to the highway . . . and I turned left.
"Hey Tony! Why you going this way?"
"Uh, duh. _Sign, arrow, airport._"
"Turn around. Go back out to the highway," she ordered.
"Huh?" I obeyed, making a dangerous four-lane U-turn. "What are you
talking about?"
Janine kept quiet until it came time for my turn onto the entrance ramp.
"There. North. To your city."
I merged into the light traffic and pushed the pedal down to the highway
speed. Once I'd settle into the flow, I turned to her. "What's going
on, Janine?"
"Well, when I first learned I'd have to fly out here, I decided to take
the next week as vacation. I haven't had any time off for awhile. I
was really looking forward to kicking back by myself for a week. But
then, here, it started seeming terribly selfish of me to take all that
time and not spend any of it with my family. So I made some calls this
morning. I didn't say anything to Mom or Dad. This last-minute, there
was nothing available from their airport. In fact, the best I could do
was flying out from your city, but not until next weekend. You don't
mind putting up with me for a week, do you?"
Janine's tone had turned so coquettish I wanted to smash my head through
the windshield. Then she squirmed and reached a hand over to rub my
crotch. "I hate to be an imposition. If there's anything I can do to
make the situation better, I trust you'll let me know."
I took a deep breath, and concentrated on the lines painted on the
pavement.
She unzipped my fly. "How long of a drive is it?"
"A bit over an hour, depending how fast I go."
"How fast can you go?"
Not as fast as her. With a few turns of her hands my cock was sprung
free, full and naked and nearly poking the steering wheel. Janine
lowered herself, head and hands, into my lap. She slipped a good part
of me into her luscious mouth, slurping away. Then she stopped to ask,
"An hour or so of torture is a long time. Do you think you can bear to
wait for the reward?" She bent back down to demonstrate, then lifted
away. "I'll suck you off right now, if you want me to."
"Go slow," I answered. "Take off some of your clothes," I laughed.
"What's another hour?" I replied.
=========================
Like? Yes? No? Comments welcome. losgud@hotmail.com
=========================
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