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Siblings - At the Drive-In (family, inc)
by Michael Kalen Smith
***
The following is a chapter out of the middle of a novel (probably never
to be published) on which I've been working for several yrs. If incest
upsets you, STOP NOW. However, if you think of it as a love story, I
think you'll feel better. No violence here; sex should be fun for all
involved. INTELLIGENT feedback is solicited! If even *one* person
admits they liked it, I'll take that as a warrant to post additional
chapters. (And don't draw unwarranted conclusions from the fact that one
of the characters in this story is named "Mike"....)
AT THE DRIVE-IN
Neither my sister Alex nor I dated much our last two years in high
school -- except with each other. And though we often referred to
going out together as a "date," we knew we weren't using the word in
the ordinary way. This was precisely the period during which teenage
hormones reach their frantic peak (as we both could attest), and most
students dated a lot, whether they were going steady or playing the
field.
When Alex was a junior, in 1972, she took a "special topics" course
in social psychology. Searching for a term paper topic in the area of
interpersonal relations, she naturally thought of our own relationship
.... but there wasn't much she could truthfully say about it without
revealing the Secret. Then one of her girlfriends providentially began
to encourage her to "go out with boys" more often, and the dating
process became her research subject. And in the course of her research,
my sister decided that we really *weren't* dating other people enough.
When she asked me what I thought, I agreed that we dated much less
often than most of the kids we knew -- but so what? They were still
looking, but we had found each other.
Alex was perturbed at my complacency (her word). If we didn't date
other people, she insisted, we would inevitably become bored with each
other. We would be like "an old married couple" before we even got to
college. We were limiting ourselves physically, as well. When was
the last time I had gone out parking with a girl other than her? Well,
she had me there; I hadn't even kissed another girl in months. However,
the two of us had also shared many other wonderful experiences that
were beyond the dreams -- perhaps even the imaginations -- of most of
our friends.
I thought about it after Alex stomped off in exasperation. I
understood the point she was making (sort of) but I wasn't sure why
she thought it was important. Was she implying that she wanted to
have sex with other guys? She had always been free to fuck whomever
she pleased, and we both knew it. I was mercifully free of jealousy
and always had been. Perhaps it was conceit, or simply the conviction
that Alex loved me as I loved her. I was pretty adept at psychological
compartmentalization.
For myself, I certainly didn't object to a sweaty make-out session
with a nice-looking girl. What I objected to, or was impatient with,
was all the preliminary rituals -- the girl establishing her moral
standards for the record, the boy protesting the Platonic innocence of
his motives, the gradual ground-giving -- before you could get down to
the heavy breathing and groping and fondling that you both knew you were
going to do anyway. It seemed hypocritical to me then, and it still
does. A graceful, non-adversarial seduction, in which both parties
participate but neither knows the result in advance, is much more
satisfying.
Well, I decided with some irritation, if Alex thought we should date
around, then I was going to beat her to it. I began making a mental list
of girls I knew whom I might even *want* to ask out. Girls who were
intelligent and pretty. I had no use for bimbos, nor would they probably
have put up with me. Several of my top possibilities were already going
with someone else.
The third girl I called was Marianne McKelvey. She was in my
journalism class and had just that semester begun writing for the
school paper, on which I was Assistant Features Editor. She was
attractive, with a nicely proportioned body, large circular eyeglasses
that made her wide gray eyes seem perpetually startled, and long,
chestnut hair which she usually wore tucked into a practical knot on
top of her head. She had a musical laugh and an engaging habit of
biting her lower lip when she was concentrating over a typewriter. She
was friendly to everyone, though not a tease, and a couple of times I
had noticed her giving me sidelong, surreptitious glances in the
newspaper office. I was curious about Marianne both intellectually and
physically.
When I called her that evening and invited her to a drive-in movie
on Saturday, I detected a moment's hesitation which I decided was just
her surprise at my asking her for a date. I had never made a pass at
her. She was probably wondering why I had called her up out of the
blue. She sounded pleased when she accepted, though, so I thought no
more about it.
Then Alex returned to tell me, rather sheepishly, that she had called
up Bill Brumey, a senior on the swim team who had recently broken up
with his latest cheerleader girlfriend, and asked him out. Bill was a
nice enough guy, except for his apparent predilection for brainless
blondes, and I gathered that he was both surprised and flattered that a
girl as pretty and smart as Alex would take the initiative. But his
family car was unavailable, he said; he would love to go out with her,
but he was temporarily without wheels. Alex looked at me from under
her lashes and stroked my forearm with one finger. Would I be
interested in double-dating?
Her "poor little me with a problem" routine was so unsubtle, I knew
she was apologizing for our earlier spat and asking for a favor at the
same time. My sister always had me in the palm of her hand --
sometimes literally -- when she wanted something. I called Marianne and
cleared the new arrangement with her; she had no objections, and even
sounded pleased. I wondered if perhaps she didn't quite trust my
motives.
The family vehicle was a Chevy station wagon, originally Mother's
car, but she seldom was able to drive it anymore. Alex and I shared
it most of the time and kept it in gas and oil and tuned up. We ran
most of Mother's household errands and, in return, we had almost
unlimited use of the car. And a station wagon is a great car for dates
and for weekend jaunts with a bunch of friends.
On Saturday afternoon, I found Alex standing in front of her closet,
pondering her wardrobe.
"Don't have a thing to wear, huh?" I laughed. She grinned and
swatted at me and I ducked.
"No -- I just don't know how to play this. Is this a "jeans" date
or a "frilly dress" date?"
I must have looked at her oddly. "This is only the drive-in, Alex.
I hope you don't think I'm wearing a coat and tie!"
She looked at me patiently. "Michael, if I think I might end up
getting cozy with Bill, if I want him to know it's okay to make a
move, then I probably want to wear something we can both deal with in
the back seat. But if I *don't* want to do that, I'll probably wear
jeans and a long-sleeved blouse that buttons up the back -- and my
cast-iron bra!"
I thought I understood her calculations now -- and I began to
wonder what Marianne would wear. Did she also subscribe to this body-
language code of dressing for dates?
By the time we left the house, Alex had carefully shaved her legs
so she wouldn't have to wear hose, and she had settled on a particularly
short black mini with a matching velour pullover top. And no bra. It
all looked very nice above her long, creamy legs. By her own
explanation, I assumed she was dressed for action.
We went by Bill's house first and found him waiting on the front
steps. He jumped up and walked quickly to the car, obviously embarrassed
at having to be picked up by his date and her brother. Alex hopped out
of the front seat and he held the back door and climbed in after her.
It dawned on me that Alex could have sat in the back to begin with, but
that she wanted to give Bill's ego the opportunity to escort her from
the front to the back. She always was a good applied psychologist.
Bill's hand squeezed my shoulder briefly as he leaned forward. "Hey,
I really appreciate this doubling, Mike! I've thought about asking
Alex for a date but she doesn't seem to go out much; I thought maybe she
had a steady I didn't know about. And then she calls me and I don't have
a car!"
"Hey, yourself," Alex chimed in. "Don't tell him, tell me! What
do you mean you were 'going to call me'? Why didn't you? I think I've
been insulted!" She snagged his sleeve and tugged him back beside her.
"You aren't shy, are you?"
I glanced in the rear view mirror and noted that my sister had
crossed her legs and allowed her skirt to ride up even farther. Then I
saw Bill blush, and I suddenly realized he *was* shy! A good-looking,
reasonably intelligent jock, who could have any fluffy little
cheerleader he wanted! I glanced at the mirror again. Alex had hooked
her arm through Bill's and was chattering away about inconsequential
things to put him at ease; he looked quite happy with his situation. I
thought about it all the way to Marianne's house and decided that Bill
usually dated bimbos because he knew they were no competition for him.
An attractive girl who was also very intelligent, quick-witted, and
athletic -- like my sister -- was another matter. He wanted Alex to
like him and he was a little nervous around her. I filed away that
insight for further study.
Marianne met me at the door when I rang the bell. She called over
her shoulder that she was leaving now, and slipped outside with a
bright smile. She was wearing khaki shorts -- not "short shorts" but
short enough -- and a cropped yellow tee shirt that ended just at the
top of her shorts, giving me brief flashes of bare midriff. Not the
sort of outfit I would have expected from Marianne, somehow, but it
definitely suited her. Her thick, rich hair was uncoiled for a change;
it spilled far past her shoulders and it swayed and bounced when she
turned her head. The effect was astonishing and enticing. And if the
way a girl dressed for a date was a guide to her mindset, as my sister
seemed to think, then this could turn out to be an interesting evening.
I casually took her hand as we walked back to the car, which seemed
to surprise her. "Thanks for agreeing to double-date," I said. "Alex
and Bill would have been stuck, otherwise."
"Oh, I don't mind." She squeezed my hand. "I'm just glad you asked
me out, Michael. I really never expected it."
We weren't early enough to the drive-in to get a good spot in one of
the front rows, so we got the next best thing -- a spot in one of the
back rows. The picture was sufficiently uninteresting that we could
watch for alternate five-minute segments and still follow the plot-line.
After the first thirty minutes, with everyone in the car relaxed, I
saw in the mirror that Bill was leaning back against the side window
with his feet propped up and his loafers off. Alex was stretched out
half on top of him, one leg hooked over his, talking almost nose to
nose in a low voice. He had one arm around her shoulders and she was
stroking his chest with her free hand.
I asked Marianne in a whisper if she would mind switching sides in
the front seat so I could get out from behind the wheel; she pulled her
knees up out of the way before I could even finish the question. I made
sure to steady myself with a hand on her knee as I eased past her. I
had barely resettled myself when Marianne's shoes were off and she had
tucked her bare feet under her and pressed her thigh against mine. I
put my arm around her and she snuggled up happily with her head on my
collarbone. She even reached up and stroked the hand that was dangling
over her shoulder. She was sending a blizzard of signals, but I wanted
to take things slowly. I was content for the moment to enjoy her warm
body curled up against mine and to comb my fingers through her
luxuriant hair. She felt so different from Alex -- a novelty. I didn't
know her, not in these circumstances, so anything she said or did would
be pretty much unexpected. I discovered that that made her even more
interesting. Marianne would never hold a candle to Alex -- I doubted
anyone ever could -- but perhaps my sister was right about our need for
social variety.
After a few minutes, Marianne leaned her head back so she could
speak softly in my ear. "Michael, ... if I ask you something, will you
promise not to think I'm being dumb?" I nodded. "We've known each
other for more than a year, and we've worked in Journalism together for
months now. And you've always been very polite and very nice to me.
But why did you call me up now, all of a sudden? I mean, I'm really
glad you did, but you've never said anything to make me think...."
She'd run out of explanation.
I thought again about Bill's reaction to Alex's call. Marianne
wasn't particularly shy, but she wasn't a flirt, either. My fingertips
lightly traced a line down her throat and she swallowed, as if my
answer was important to her.
"I knew you were there all the time, you know. You're very pretty:
How could I not know?" And as I said it, I knew it was true. "I know
I don't date much, but that doesn't mean I don't notice girls. You're
pretty, and you're smart, and you can spell -- now." She snorted a
laugh. I had corrected the spelling in her articles until she began
looking up words before submitting her stories.
"And I like you, Marianne. I wanted to get to know you better; I
thought there were sides to you I didn't know about. Looking at you
tonight, I'm sure of it! Besides," I added, burying my fingers in her
hair, "I've wanted to do THIS for months!"
She smiled at me over her shoulder and reached up and kissed me
lightly on the cheek. "Michael, you're sweet." She took off her
glasses, folded them, and set them carefully on the dash. Her eyes were
light brown and gold, but they seemed much darker there in the car.
With one finger on her cheek, I guided her head around, bent down,
and kissed her firmly on the lips. It took only a split second for
her to make up her mind to kiss me back. It only lasted a few seconds,
though, and I was disappointed -- until she swung around the other way
so she could fit more comfortably in my lap and in my arms. Then she
hung herself around my neck and fastened her mouth to mine.
I responded to this delightful assault by putting my hands on her
waist, where her shorts and shirt didn't quite meet. I slowly stroked
her lower back, letting her call the shots and decide the pace. In
fact, I was contemptuous of "grabbers"; such behavior was unsubtle,
unfriendly, unromantic, and sometimes dangerous. I much preferred
mutual seduction. But with Marianne, I needn't have doubted. She
surprised me again: Without losing her grip on my tongue, she reached
smoothly under the back of her shirt, unhooked her bandeau bra, and
tossed it on the floor. I realized just how carefully she, like Alex,
had planned for contingencies. The bra was a barrier to balance the
cropped shirt if she decided to keep our date merely on a friendly
basis -- but it also could be removed with a minimum of hassle if she
decided otherwise. She had made her decision; she wanted my hands on
her body, and I was certainly willing.
But still I restrained myself. We had plenty of time. I slid her
shirt up as I ran my palms over her shoulderblades. She shivered and
pressed her body against my chest and nibbled at my earlobe. She was
relaxed and obviously felt secure and in control, which was what I
wanted.
I peeked over Marianne's shoulder at the mirror again in curiosity.
Alex and Bill had slumped down on the back seat. I could see Alex's
hand clutching at the window ledge and the top of Bill's head was
barely visible. From the sound effects, I guessed that his mouth was
busy with her tits and that she was enjoying it. Couldn't let my
sister get too far ahead of me, I thought.
I let Marianne lean back, moved my mouth down to her waist, and
began kissing my way upward, pushing her shirt up out of the way as I
progressed. She was moaning quietly under her breath and holding onto
the back of my head, and when my mouth fastened on her nipples she dug
her fingers into my hair. I knew intuitively that she wasn't very
experienced at this, but I also understood that she wanted to be. She
had decided it was time to jump off the ledge and I was the one she
had selected to catch her. I was flattered, and I had sufficient ego
to think she wouldn't be disappointed.
An unspoken agreement had existed between the high school students
and the drive-in management for as long as anyone could remember: As
long as there was no screaming, drunkenness, rapine, or parent
complaints, the back row was regarded as a "free fire zone."
I reached up and tapped on the ceiling panel. "Bill? Alex? Why
don't we fold down the back seat?" Bill looked to Alex for
confirmation and she nodded with a lustful twinkle. She already had her
top off and her breasts jiggled invitingly; her skirt was hiked up to her
crotch. Bill had already lost his shirt and had obviously entered into
the spirit of the evening.
Marianne, still sitting in my lap, had begun to pull her tee shirt
over her head, but when she saw the other two moving around she
hurriedly pulled it back down again. I stopped her and smiled.
"Take it easy, Marianne. We're all friends here; no one's going to
mind and no one's going to stare at you." My hands slipped under her
shirt and I cupped her full breasts and rubbed my thumbs over her erect
nipples. She closed her eyes and arched her back. Then she swallowed,
smiled broadly, and removed her shirt.
While the two in the back were rearranging the car, I simply sat
back and admired Marianne. She folded her hands behind her and perched
there with her shoulders back and her lovely breasts outthrust, hair
scattered in all directions. She smiled a promise from beneath her
lashes. She knew it was an erotic pose. This sort of thing was so
unlike her school persona, I almost wondered if she had a twin.
She got up on her knees straddling me, hand on the back of the seat
for balance, and slowly and deliberately swung her breasts just above
my face. The sounds in the back ceased for a moment. Alex said "Go
get 'em, you guys!" and there was a throaty chuckle I knew well.
Marianne was not at all over-built, but her breasts were much larger
than Alex's. Also unlike Alex, she had large soft areolae with small,
hard button-like nipples in the center of each. I could not easily suck
on her nipples, but I could take much more of her breast into my mouth.
A very different experience. And those beautiful, conical masses swaying
before me were very alluring -- as was the fact that she was offering
herself to me this way. She didn't seem nervous or unsure of herself,
but somehow I knew I was the first guy ever she had ever trusted like
this. And I did my part, too. I practically inhaled her tits, chewing
very gently and curling my tongue around her little nipples while
squeezing the soft flesh I couldn't fit into my mouth. Marianne's body
was trembling and her pelvis was grinding slowly against my groin. My
shirt had somehow become unbuttoned. I shrugged it off as Marianne sat
back on my knees again, running her hands slowly across my chest and
looking at me with those dark, glowing eyes.
Bill and Alex had converted the back of the station wagon into a
playpen now, and had spread out the two or three thick blankets we
always kept in the car. I wasn't sure exactly what they were doing
back there, but Marianne was staring entranced past my shoulder and a
deep flush was creeping down her torso -- partly lingering shyness and
her own lively imagination working on what she was watching, but mostly
her own sexual arousal, the flames being fanned in her by whatever
activity my sister and her date were engaged in.
I hooked a thumb over my shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Marianne scrambled off my lap, tits bouncing, and climbed over the seat
into the back, being careful not to step on anyone. She sat waiting
with her legs crossed as I followed her.
Bill and Alex were in '69' position with her on the bottom. My
sister had her mini up around her waist, and her panties, if she had
worn any, were not to be seen. Her face was framed by his pubic hair
and she obviously had his entire cock in her mouth. Bill's head was
buried between Alex's widespread thighs and he was industriously
pushing his tongue up her cunt. They were oblivious to us and
everything else except themselves. Marianne was trying not to watch
them -- out of misplaced modesty, I suppose -- but I gently turned her
head toward the undulating bodies eighteen inches away.
"Don't be embarrassed, Marianne -- it sure doesn't bother THEM that
we're here! Don't you see how much fun they're having? How much
pleasure they're giving each other? Nobody gets hurt and everybody
gets off. What could be better than that?"
She seemed to think about it as she watched -- apparently forgetting
that she was already half-naked herself. Alex was now concentrating on
sucking the head of Bill's cock, and I massaged Marianne's breasts as
she continued to watch them, fascinated now. Her hand strayed to my
crotch and began stroking my cock though the denim. I'm not sure she
was even conscious of what she was doing. I stifled a groan. Watching
my sister suck a cock while I was being fondled by my date was having
its effect.
I stroked Marianne's inner thigh and her attention flicked back to
me. She realized where her hand was and smiled as she squeezed my
cock. Then she popped open the top button of her shorts and lay back
invitingly. I quickly unzipped her shorts and slid them and her
panties down her legs and off her feet. Another surprise: Marianne,
with her electric body, full breasts and hips, and lush hair, had
shaved her crotch completely bare!
I was more aroused by the sight of the utterly exposed crevice
leading to her cunt than I would have been by a mat of pubic hair. I
looked back at her flushed face and dilated eyes and grinned my
pleasure; she blushed even more. And suddenly I was certain that she
had done this especially for me, hoping we would get this far, and
letting me know at the same time how vulnerable she was willing to let
herself be with me. She slowly spread her legs and pulled her knees
back, and her moist clitoris reflected the light from the movie screen;
her dazzling body showed not a single hair below her eyelashes.
It took me less than a second to bury my face in her smooth, sweet
pussy. I was peripherally aware that Bill and Alex paused for a moment
in their exertions to watch us; they both smiled and returned their
attentions to each other. My tongue was busily probing Marianne's
pussy and her hands clutched at my hair, pushing my head closer. I knew
this was her first time for any kind of oral sex, too, and she was
obviously enjoying it. Intermittent tremors coursed through her thighs
and across her stomach and her feet pressed against the sides of my
ribcage.
After a few minutes with my tongue inside her, she tried
breathlessly to reach under my body. "I want to ... to hold you ...
your cock -- c'mon...!"
I had already undone my belt and lowered my zipper, and now I pushed
my jeans off. I tipped Marianne on her side and curled my body around
so she could reach what she wanted. I was erect now, and she had no
difficulty getting her hands on my cock. She started rubbing it
vigorously up and down, but I quickly stopped her. Many girls make
that mistake; they seem not to believe a guy could, or would want to,
build up to a climax step by slow, calculating step.
"Just touch it, stroke it, all over -- not so hard, okay? Don't be
afraid to use your tongue and your mouth, Marianne, please? Close your
eyes and pretend it's a stick of candy."
She obviously was eager to return to me the experience my mouth was
giving her, but was unsure how to manage it. She began by holding my
cock like a dagger and kissing the head and touching the tip of her
tongue to it, but after a minute or two she grew more courageous and
took the head into her mouth. I held my hips still while she figured
out what she was doing, but at my end of our world things were a lot
more active. My head was pushed up between her thighs and my mouth
was playing catfish on every bit of flesh within reach. Her aroma and
the taste of her was different from Alex, more pungent and spicy, but
just as arousing. My hands squeezed her ass and stroked the small of
her back, and my fingertips, gliding lightly between her cheeks and
across her asshole, made the surrounding muscles quiver reflexively.
"You like that, huh?" I mumbled.
"Oh, God..." she moaned. "You have no idea!" Oh, yes, I did. Her
tongue moved up and down the shaft of my penis and she licked and
sucked lightly at my balls. She seemed to have shed the last of her
nervousness and embarrassment in the heat of her growing passion. The
juices were flowing in her cunt and the aroma of sex within her was
much stronger.
I wondered briefly what her reaction would be if I could time-travel
back to yesterday and tell her that she would soon be naked in the
presence of three other people, with a guy's testicles in her mouth.
But there was something I had to know. I managed to partly sit up
with one arm wrapped around her hips. She came up to the same
position, so that we were wrapped in a ball together, hands busy with
each other's bodies, our faces only a few inches apart. She had a kind
of wild look in her eyes, like she had put all her inhibitions on the
shelf for the evening.
"Marianne," I said in a low voice, "I don't want you to take this
the wrong way, but ... are you a virgin? I mean, you're absolutely
beautiful, and I *really* want to have sex with you, but I don't want
to push you farther than you really want to go -- I don't want you to
have regrets later...." I was stroking her clit as I said this, but I
still meant it. I was pretty sure this gorgeous girl, whom I had
stupidly overlooked, had no illusions about what we were doing being
"love," and I wanted to make sure we would remain friends, at least,
whatever else might happen. If she was simply temporarily out of
control, I had to offer her an escape hatch, out of respect for her and
myself.
She squeezed my cock and stretched it toward her. "Michael, do you
know how many other guys would ask a question like that at a time like
this? None! I can't believe you'd even think about it -- but, no: I'm
not a virgin, just barely, and tonight I want you to fuck me stupid!
And I won't have any regrets tomorrow. This is what I want, and I'm
ready for it -- right now! Mostly because it's you I'm with. Even if I
were still a virgin, I'd pick you to pop my cherry -- do you understand
that? You're a very sweet guy, Michael, and I really do like you, and
I trust you, too. What more could I ask for in a lover? Now, can we
please stop talking and go on with what we were doing? Please?!" She
pressed her mouth hard against mine and wiped her tongue across the
front of my teeth. She was radiating more heat than a homecoming
bonfire. How could I have worked next to this girl all these months and
never suspected the dammed up sensuality within her? Well, that dam was
about to burst!
I hadn't thought about it in advance, but since I was almost leaning
against the back of the front seat, it seemed easier to lie on my back
and let Marianne get on top. I thought for a moment that it might
leave her feeling too exposed to the rest of the world, but in her
present state of mind she would probably have gone out for popcorn
naked.
So I slid down onto my back and watched my cock go rigidly vertical;
I was already imagining what Marianne's cunt would feel like. I loved
Alex unreservedly, but this was a matter of pure lust. My date knelt
between my legs and let her long hair curtain my groin as she took my
cock in her mouth once more. She was a fast learner, but she didn't
try to deep-throat me either.
"Enough, enough!" I said, and reached for her arms to draw her up to
me. She smiled and moved up to straddle my hips. Reaching between her
legs, she opened her cunt and guided herself carefully onto my waiting
cock. That was a detail I enjoyed: Instead of grasping my penis and
steering it into her, she accepted it as a target and impaled herself
on it. The difference was minor and the result was the same, but it
was *nice* ... almost a compliment.
Her lips parted and her eyes closed as she settled herself. I held
onto her flanks as she moved up and down slowly and experimentally. I
moved then to her swaying breasts and covered them with my hands,
squeezing them slowly in syncopation to her own movements. I tugged
forward and she opened her eyes and bent from the waist, resting her
open hands on my shoulders. Now my cock was rubbing strongly against
her clit and her eyes had gone smokey. Her tits were pressed against
my collarbone and I nibbled at her neck and the underside of her chin,
and squeezed her ass. As I picked up the tempo, she rasped "Oh,
God...."
Bill and Alex had moved on to the next stage as well. Both had shed
all their clothes and Alex was on her back on the blanket beside me,
only a few inches away. She was filled by his cock and thoroughly
enjoying it. Her long legs were wrapped around his waist and her head
was arched back. She raised her hips to meet each thrust -- a maneuver
I knew well -- and sucked in between her teeth at each stroke. Bill
looked completely transported by Alex's aggressive sexuality; I knew
exactly what he was feeling at that moment and I was pleased for both
of them. Bill was to my sister what Marianne was to me: An enthusiastic
and capable sex partner, and heretofore casual friend, who would be a
much closer friend after tonight. Neither of them was a threat to either
of us and this change of bodies was exciting and exhilarating. Alex had
been more accurate about our need for variety than even she had realized.
I unconsciously matched my rhythm to Bill's and soon Alex and I were
lifting our lower bodies almost in tandem in our pursuit of orgasm. I
felt it building in me and so did Marianne; she was making little
moaning sounds and her face was almost agonized with abandon. Without
really paying attention, I knew Bill was approaching his climax as
well. His eyes were shut as tightly as Marianne's as his sensory input
concentrated in his cock.
Unexpectedly, Alex's hand crossed the few inches between our bodies
and touched my leg. I took her hand and she twined her fingers between
mine and squeezed. I glanced sideways and found her smiling crookedly
at me with sparks in her eyes. I knew immediately what she intended
and I laughed silently with her. For the next minute we held hands and
squeezed in unison. And we gradually slid our bodies together until
our shoulders were just touching. Alex even planted one foot lightly
against Marianne's hip and Marianne grasped Alex's kneecap to brace her
wild gyrations. Neither of our partners were aware that we were
holding hands, of course, but it was like a telepathic link.
My cock was about to explode and Marianne's cunt got the message; my
orgasm triggered hers and we tipped over the edge together. Bill could
not have been unaware of what was happening next to him, especially when
Marianne tried unsuccessfully to smother an ecstatic squeal. Bill came
thirty seconds after I did, and he was followed instantly by my sister's
arching climax. She squeezed my hand until my knuckles were white.
It was close to an indescribable experience. Alex and I, each
fucking other people, but also sharing our separate orgasms as if we
were fucking each other -- a doubled climax. Bill shooting off inside
Alex while I fountained into Marianne's steaming vagina, and Alex and I
coming together as well, which intensified the experience for both of
us. It was almost an out-of-the-body feeling. Our four overheated
carcases slumped in a heap for several minutes while everyone gasped for
breath. It finally occurred to me that this must be a very strange
situation for Bill and Marianne.
It certainly wasn't the first time two couples had foregone privacy
in favor of fucking space, especially at the drive-in, but this was a
little different. A brother and sister, pressed side by side, naked,
in the back of a car, banging away with their dates. Nobody had
exactly planned it that way, and on another occasion it might have
struck our companions as extremely weird, but the enthusiastic lust all
four of us felt had overcome any inhibitions. But it was in the back
of my mind -- and Alex's, I was sure -- that we still had to be very
careful how we behaved toward each other. I wanted very badly to lean
over and kiss Alex, but that wouldn't do at all. It would have
betrayed the Secret. But as we began slowly to untangle ourselves, I
managed to stroke Alex's short ribs for an instant, and she
surreptitiously caressed the back of my calf.
Nor, surprisingly, was there a great rush by anyone to cover
themselves as the sexual fog began to dissipate. We laughed and make
bawdy puns as we casually sorted out our clothing. I glanced quickly
at Bills's cock out of male curiosity; it had shrunk considerably, of
course, but it was still longer and somewhat larger around than mine.
I made a mental note to ask Alex whether or not his size had really
made a difference in how her cunt felt.
Alex had worn black bikini panties under her black mini and Marianne
had opted for blazing red under her shorts -- though I hadn't noticed
at the time, I was so anxious to get her out of them.
Alex held up the red satin panties and said "Wow!" in mock awe.
"Marianne, I like these! How about a swap?"
Marianne actually blushed a little -- after all that had just
happened! -- and laughed. She shook out the very brief black lace
panties and raised her eyebrows.
Are you sure, Alex? These are much sexier!"
More expensive, too, probably, I thought, but I was reading my
sister's mind. Each girl slipped on the other's panties and they knelt
facing each other for a moment, comparing the results.
Alex reached out and minutely adjusted the pair Marianne was
wearing. "Hey, those look nice on you; you look good in black!"
Bill and I exchanged glances as we avidly watched the girls. We
were both thinking what a turn-on it was, knowing each girl's crotch
was cradled in the spot where the other's had been a short while
before. And both pairs were "used," which made Alex's apparent whim
even more erotic. But I already knew that this was a little gift from
Alex to me. She wouldn't be wearing Marianne's underwear for very
long.
The movie had another five or ten minutes to run when Marianne and I
climbed back into the front seat while Bill and Alex reconstructed the
back seat. Marianne picked up her bra, wadded in into a ball, and
stuffed it down into the very bottom of her purse. Then she went back
to her earlier position, straddling my lap, with her arms around my
neck and her nose nuzzling my ear. I stroked her thighs and gave her
an affectionate hug. We might do this again, or it might be something
we could only do once, but I could live with that too. Either way, I
knew Marianne and I would always be more than just Journalism office
buddies. She was sweet, sexy, pretty, and smart. Just the kind of
close friend I wanted. By choice, I didn't have many.
I knew she wanted to say something because I could hear her
hesitate. When she did speak, it was very softly and close to my ear.
"Michael, ... I don't know what to say. This has been such a
wonderful evening! I *love* you...." I froze instinctively and she
felt it. She laughed under her breath. "Don't worry, I didn't mean it
that way! I'm not 'IN love', Michael -- though it wouldn't take
much...." Her hand moved softly across my cheek. "I love you for being
*you*, here, tonight."
"See, ... I said I wasn't a virgin, and that's true, but...." She
took a deep breath and it all spilled out in a rush. "I've never
really had sex before, not really. There was this guy when I was 14. A
girlfriend -- EX-girlfriend -- set me up with a blind date to double
with her, and then she and her boyfriend went off and left us, and he
was 19 and he got me ... he got me all excited. Horny. I had no idea
what I was doing. But he ... he got my pants off and just ... he just
stuck it in, and pushed a few times, and then he came, I guess. It
didn't hurt, but he was finished so fast, and I didn't really feel it,
and I was scared when I ... I saw his cock, it looked so big, and...."
She swallowed and her voice quavered. She was holding tight to my
shoulder with her cheek against mine. "And then he took me home and I
never saw him again. I wasn't even sure about his name. And I worried
for weeks that I might be pregnant." She kissed my ear and her body
relaxed. "I've never told anyone about that, not even my mother, but I
wanted you to understand." Her confession, if that's what she meant it
to be, was complete and she sounded very relieved.
"I've been out with other boys lots of times, but most of them only
wanted to grab at me, and I never let them do *anything*. They usually
didn't ask me out again," she added sadly. Her head had rested itself
on my shoulder and her hand was moving aimlessly around my shirt front.
I gently stroked the small of her back and let my other hand rest
motionlessly on her knee, comforting her, I hoped.
"I like you a lot, Michael. I guess I have sort of a crush on you
-- have had for months. I was surprised when you asked me out, though.
I thought at first you'd picked up some vibes from me or something --
that you knew I liked you. And then I worried that you might use that
to ... to.... I'm sorry, I know you aren't like that. I'm just
suspicious of boys, most of them anyway. And then I started thinking
about you, and that maybe I could, well ... seduce you. I wanted you
to like me more. Don't hate me?"
She wasn't faking or exaggerating; she really felt guilty, and I
wasn't sure why. I kissed her cheek.
"Marianne, if you were trying to seduce me, I'd say you did a pretty
good job; I thought I was seducing you! But didn't you think maybe I'd
like it? Doesn't happen that often, not to me, anyway." I stroked her
hair and hugged her again. "Now, listen to me. I'm not afraid of
love. You just caught me by surprise. I must be blind, because it
never occurred to me that we were more than just friends. I apologize
for that. I *do* like you -- I like you a lot -- and I sure don't want
to hurt you. You're sweet, and you're smart, and you're very sexy!
But every guy trying to make it with a girl tells her he loves her, and
it's a lie. That's not love, that's lust -- and lust is great, but it
isn't 'love', Marianne. I asked you out because I thought you'd be fun
to be with -- and I was right, in more ways than I expected. I didn't
ask you out just to get into your pants, I really didn't."
She hugged me back. "No, you don't understand -- I *adore* having
sex with you! She lowered her voice nearly to a whisper. "I WANTED
you to fuck me tonight, and I got what I wanted, and it was fantastic!
It was a little strange -- four of us back there, including your sister
.... but I wasn't embarrassed, and that was even stranger, ya' know? I
felt sexy, and happy, and relaxed afterward. You were so good for me,
don't you see? All I had was half a memory of half a minute of that
other guy, whose name I don't even remember. But now, I have this
wonderful memory of tonight. You're the first guy I've ever
deliberately given myself to, and I'm so glad I picked you. Michael,
as far as I'm concerned, you're my 'first'. You're the guy who popped my
cherry, and it was beautiful!"
That sounded a little odd to both of us after she said it, and she
giggled. But we both understood what she meant. I felt a lot of
tenderness toward this girl -- and my ego was pleased with itself, that
was for certain. And I felt a little guilty that I had been holding
Alex's hand and dividing my attention between the two of them at our
mutual moment of climax. But Marianne hadn't noticed, I was sure, and
it didn't affect her experience at all.
She sat back and stroked my cock through my jeans; there was a
twinkle in her eye and a pleased smile on her lips. I smiled back and
cupped her breasts in my hands, and drew her back to me. She sighed
with pleasure and leaned her warm body against mine and kissed me
slowly and thoroughly. My hands moved just as slowly under her shirt,
up and down her bare back. Her skin felt so nice. It was a warm,
sentimental kiss, not a heavy, passionate one, though we both were
aware of the ever-present sexual content as well. We felt very close
at that moment.
"Please tell me we'll do this again, okay?" she murmured. "Not any
particular time, but 'again'. I don't want this to be the only time
we make it together...."
"I promise, we'll do this again," I replied. "I guarantee it. But
let's just let it happen when it happens. We see each other every day
and we're special friends now. I want you to stay my friend, and too
much pressure by either of us could spoil that. Besides, I think
you're going to be dating a lot more other guys now, and I *don't* want
you feeling guilty about us when you do, okay? Can we be close,
special friends, and occasional, part-time lovers?"
She hugged me gratefully. "That's exactly what I want us to be,
Michael. I knew you'd understand me. You're terrific!"
All these few minutes, Alex and Bill had been having their own quiet
talk, and kissing, and cuddling. But now Bill said, "Is the movie
over?" I noticed the cars around us pulling out a few at a time, and
the projection screen had dimmed. "Anyone remember what we saw?" he
inquired. "Just in case anyone asks?" That cracked all of us up and
comfortably broke the spell.
'Who's for hamburgers?" I asked over my shoulder. "I don't know
about you two, but *we've* worked up an appetite!" Marianne laughingly
growled and pretended to bite my arm as I started the car.
* * * * *
It took a little while to get Marianne dropped off, because we had
to say goodnight several times in her driveway, and again on her
porch. Her mother finally opened the front door from curiosity: She had
heard the car door and our footsteps five or ten minutes before.
Marianne suddenly turned shy and we ended our embrace. As she stepped
inside I saw her mother smile at her understandingly.
Bill and Alex didn't take as long. They'd been saying goodnight at
Marianne's house, and all the way to his place, and I think Bill got a
bit shy, too, about me sitting in the front seat by myself while he
was in the back seat deep-kissing my sister. He seemed to have
momentarily forgotten all that had happened earlier in the evening.
He was obviously very impressed by Alex, and not just as a sex partner,
either.
In fact, they dated several more times that year and Bill had the
good sense not to become possessive -- nor did they have sex on every
occasion. Alex developed a good deal of respect for Bill and spoke
highly of him. And he was delighted to find someone equally athletic
who valued him for his intelligence and wit; he was tired of being
regarded as "just a jock." After we all went off to college, he sent
Alex a dozen red roses every Valentine's day, until we moved into the
city.
My sister tumbled over the front seat before I was out of Bill's
driveway and had Marianne's red panties off by the time we reached the
end of the block. She sniffed the crotch delicately.
"Yep. She's still there! So am I. There's a gift for you, Michael
-- two girls in one!" She rubbed the satin laughingly beneath my nose.
"Very nice," I agreed. "What do you suppose she'll do with your
black ones?"
"She'll probably wash them," Alex replied, stuffing the trophy in
her purse. "She's not as kinky as I am," she added with a straight
face.
* * * * *
That night, as I was reading in bed, waiting for my hormones to calm
down, Alex strolled into my upstairs room -- the top floor of the house
that Mother could not longer get to in her wheelchair -- and stretched
out on the bed beside me, clad only in her comfortable old tee shirt.
She propped herself up on one elbow and her foot slid over and stroked
my shin. I smiled and kept reading my book.
"Well? How was she?" She sounded a touch impatient.
"What do you mean, 'How was she?' What kind of question is that?"
This wasn't like Alex. We told each other everything, but in our own
time.
"I mean, what kind of fuck was she?" She traced designs on the
quilt with her finger. "Was she ... was she better than me?"
I closed my book and looked at my sister in some consternation.
This really wasn't like her! She always had the self-confidence of a
wolverine. And she knew quite well how I felt about her. Moreover,
her present mood was inconsistent with her behavior at the drive-in and
on the way home. I began to wonder if I should worry.
"Alex, what's the matter?" I covered her hand with mine. "You
aren't jealous, are you? Because that would be really stupid. Don't
you know yet that *I love you*? More than anything else in the world,
Alex, more than myself -- I love you. And wasn't it you who decided
we weren't seeing other people enough?"
She glanced up and then looked back at the quilt. Her shoulders
seemed to hunch. "She *was* better than me, wasn't she? At sex."
This was bewildering. I took her face in the palms of my hands and
made her look at me.
"Alex," I said softly, staring into her eyes as hard as I could,
"she was terrific! And she was a virgin, for all practical purposes.
Marianne is sweet, and loving, and passionate, and charming, and she
has a really great body, and I really enjoyed--" I almost said "making
love" but changed my mind "--having sex with her tonight. And NONE of
that has ANYTHING to do with you and me. You're my darling, the center
of my life, Alex. How could you ever doubt that?
"Marianne is a really nice girl, and I think we're going to be very
good friends. So what? You certainly enjoyed your evening with Bill,
didn't you? I *know* you did, you came like the San Francisco
Earthquake! I think that's great. And I think our coming
simultaneously is the sexiest thing you and I have done in a long time.
Sex is usually part of love, but love doesn't have to be part of sex.
You know that, I *know* you know that. Having sex with Marianne was
terrific fun, sure. Having sex with you is 'making love', Alex. I
could never be jealous of Bill, because I know you love me." I stroked
her cheek and kissed her lightly.
"You hold my heart in your hands, Alexandra." I spoke slowly,
emphasizing each word. "Don't ever doubt that. Not ever."
I don't know what brought on that spasm of self-doubt, but I must
have become nearly telepathic in my earnestness to make her believe what
I was saying. She *had* to believe it, I thought. It was all *true*.
And she did believe me because she threw her arms around my neck and
pulled me down into a fierce kiss. After a few minutes, she put her
cheek against mine and spoke softly into my ear.
"Michael, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to doubt
you. You *are* my darling, my love. I *do* know you love me. And I
love you so much, so much. God, I love you!"
We finally fell asleep there with her head snuggled up on my
shoulder and my arm around her. She slept peacefully, smiling, all
doubts erased. And when I awoke too early in the morning, I laid there
for half an hour, unwilling to move and disturb her. I wanted only to
absorb her beauty and her love, and to reflect on how fortunate I was.
How lucky we *both* were, for that matter, each to have found our
hearts' desire so early in life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1992 by M.K. Smith. For personal use only; all commercial
rights retained.