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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
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SIBLINGS -- Complete (family, inc)
by Michael K Smith
("The Early Days")
[NOTE: I've posted seven more or less complete chapters from
this novel so far, under individual titles. Some readers have
gotten interested in the background of the main characters -- how
they came to be who they are and so on -- and have asked enough
questions to prompt me to post the following, which are key
excerpts from the first five chapters.
There are no sex scenes as such, but you'll find plenty of
romance, a dollop of amateur psychology,... and plenty of more
subtle eroticism. SIBLINGS is a full-dress novel -- or will be when
it's finished -- and I've gone to some effort to make the people
and the situations four- dimensional, to provide motivation and
logical results, and to avoid 'deus ex machina' contrivances of the
sort that are rife in many of the stories posted in a.s.s.
Comments, criticism, and discussion are welcome,... but PLEASE post
them in a.s.s.D!
If you haven't read the previously posted sections, please be
aware that the overriding theme throughout the novel is *consensual
sibling incest*, about which my basic feelings should be obvious by
now. If the very idea turns your stomach, you're more bent than
most of the readers hereabouts, and you should change the channel
NOW....]
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
[...from chapter 1...]
My sister, Alexandra, and I had (and have) an unusual
relationship, and it was the direct result of birth order and our
closeness in age. At least, that's what I prefer to think -- that
it was circumstances beyond our control.
I was born in Mendocino County, California, at 3:45 a.m. on
January 6, 1955. Alex was born at 3:52 a.m. on the same day in
1956. One year and seven minutes difference. We looked very much
alike: dark auburn hair, gray-green eyes, lots of freckles, a
certain sharp narrowness in the nose. We were about the same size,
too, especially as teenagers.
People frequently assumed we were twins, we were so similar.
And especially because there was only a single digit's difference
when we had to fill out bureaucratic forms that required a birth
date. More than once, some clerk increased Alex's age by a year or
shaved a year off mine. Before we were even in school, we had
begun to think of ourselves as twins, too, in all the important
ways, identical twins who happened to be of the opposite sex.
We weren't the only kids in our family. Jack was five years
older than me and Philip was eight years older -- post-World War II
babies, both of them. They had half a decade in which to become
mutually supportive before Alex and I showed up, and the difference
in age between them and us was large enough that we were almost
like two separate families.
I don't mean they picked on either of us. I realized later that
they could have made our lives hell, but both of them behaved well
enough toward us. They were just too far ahead in age to have
anything in common with us. So they practiced benign neglect
toward "the kids" and Alex and I stuck more and more to each
other's company.
More important, our parents naturally were more concerned with
the school activities and career plans of their two oldest boys.
When I was starting junior high, Philip was a year away from
finishing his college degree and was beginning to interview with
company recruiters. Jack was about to go off to a good college on
a scholarship and had his own ambitious plans. Nobody was much
interested in what I was learning in seventh grade. For whatever
reason, I never developed any bitterness about this casual
disinterest. I didn't throw tantrums or break windows to get my
parents' attention. I was proud of my brothers and they did give
me their attention when I sought it out (which wasn't often). But
they could have been uncles instead of brothers.
Alex had it a little worse. She wasn't "planned," of course,
being so close to me in age, and she became aware early on that her
conception had been unexpected. When we were little, we both heard
Dad making what had obviously become a standard joke to friends and
relatives -- that their only daughter had arrived postage-due, "but
we kept her anyway." And he didn't mean it maliciously, which was
almost worse. It was an unconsciously hurtful thing to say, and
Alex WAS hurt by it. That stupid joke made me angry as well, and
it bonded me even closer to my sister. I was only eight or nine
years old, so I could hardly say anything to my father about his
unfeeling jokes, but I comforted Alex when she cried in her room.
We began about that time to think of ourselves not even as twins,
but in some way as one person.
By the time I was twelve, Dad had reached a moderately
successful level as a regional sales manager in his company and he
began to travel much more extensively and frequently around his
enlarged territory. He was often gone two or three weeks at a
time.
At about the same time, Mother's arthritis, from which she had
first begun to suffer at the age of 35, became increasingly severe
in her legs. Now, she was confined to walking only very short
distances and was often in a wheelchair. She chafed at the
inactivity forced on her and discovered new ways to do her shopping
and cooking and laundry. She hated it when people tried to do
things for her that she could still manage to do for herself, so
she didn't demand our sympathy and constant attention.
Looking back, I admire her for that determination not to be a
burden. At the time, however, it had the principal benefit for us
that she almost never came Upstairs. It exhausted her and she
showed up above the ground floor less and less often. After Jack
abandoned his room and went off to college, Upstairs became *our*
territory, Alex's and mine.
Dad usually came up for a few minutes when he returned from a
trip, so we kept our rooms as clean as anyone has a right to expect
from active adolescents. We hauled our laundry down to the washer
and took turns mopping out our bathroom once a week. We folded and
put away our own clothes and changed our own burned-out light
bulbs. We made sure Dad was satisfied with our attention to our
living quarters and he pretty much left us to manage the upper part
of the house to suit ourselves, which confirmed our territoriality.
And it gave us an almost adult sense of privacy.
Again, looking back, I realize Dad just wasn't much interested
in the two of us. Philip and Jack together formed the focus of his
paternal instinct. They were born in the lean years following
Dad's discharge from the Army, when he drove a cab and sold
furniture while going to college on the G.I. Bill. He and Mother
lived in a tiny apartment and scraped along through the tail end of
the 1940s, first by themselves and then with a son. In 1950,
almost 30 years old, Dad finished college and landed a good sales
job with a company that wholesaled office machines. Jack was born
a few months later.
By the mid-'50s, when I showed up almost as an afterthought, my
older brothers were in school, riding the forward curl of the Baby
Boom wave. Apparently, Mother and Dad had intended to stop at two
children but took a chance on a third, and never expected a fourth
at all. So our parents weren't cruel or even deliberately unkind.
Just not terribly involved with their two youngest. As Alex and I
outgrew clothes or toys, they disappeared from the house, passed on
or donated somewhere, with an air of relief hanging over them.
* * * * *
When I went over to some friend's house to play, we usually did
things in his room -- especially if he also had brothers and
sisters. Any younger sibling who entered the room uninvited was
pushed out and the door shut behind him or her. I accepted this as
natural and normal at the time. It wasn't until I was entering
adolescence that I realized that very few of my friends or Alex's
had ever seen the upper half of our house. We had a large den and
TV room downstairs where the family's supply of games was stored
(now used only by the two of us), and that was where we usually
played with our friends, whether separately or all in a group.
Since Alex and I were so close in age, we had several good friends
in common. Those few were the only ones ever invited Upstairs, and
then only rarely.
When children begin to enter puberty they become physically very
self-conscious. Bathroom doors are shut and even locked. Boys
discovered sorting their sisters' underwear out of the dryer are
tongue-lashed by its owner. One of my friends once playfully hid
his younger sister's first training bra, and she nearly had
hysterics when she realized her brother had actually touched it.
Anyone who's not an "only" has had similar experiences, I'm sure,
especially in a brother/sister mix.
I mention these things only to say that Alex and I were
different. When Alex was standing in front of the hall linen closet
in her first bra and panties, digging out the fluffiest towel she
could find, I didn't make snide cracks. The first and only time I
hooked a finger under the back strap of her bra and snapped it
(doesn't every brother do that?), she ignored me ... until I turned
and began to walk away. Then she snapped me with a towel with such
accuracy and finesse it felt like a needle had been jabbed in my
ass. I jumped, she giggled "Gotcha!," and that was all. We were
even-up and there was no escalation.
We usually helped each other make up both our beds simply
because it went much faster. The first time she noticed the stiff
places on my bottom sheet where I had had nocturnal emissions or
had jerked off, and asked me what *that* was, I flushed in
embarrassment. She could have made capital on that for weeks, but
she chose discretion and shrugged.
So, we were normal kids in most respects. We simply never did
anything to hurt or upset each other. "I'm telling!" was not
something either of us ever said to the other. An enlightened and
mature attitude, I suppose, but I know neither of us ever reasoned
it out. I can't remember a time we weren't best friends. That was
just the way it was between us.
We played pranks on each other, and we exchanged the usual
teasing insults, and we argued frequently. We even had occasional
fights and got angry at each other, but it was always over a
serious and substantive issue, not just because "siblings always
fight." And we always made up in a day or so and never carried
grudges. It took us both awhile to realize, from visiting friends'
homes, that our relationship was not the norm.
* * * * *
We were protective of each other in the outside world, too.
When Alex was in fifth grade and I was in sixth, she chanced one
spring week to get on the wrong side on three boys in my class.
For several days, they pushed her around at recess and sabotaged
her assignments in class. She didn't know why they had singled her
out but for awhile she was half in a rage and half in tears most of
the day. Typically, she kept her problem to herself and when I
finally asked her what was the matter she wouldn't tell me.
I lagged behind her the next afternoon, however, and
deliberately spied on her. Our house was only four blocks from
school, so we usually walked home. The villainous sixth grade boys
were on bikes, though, and they charged out of an alley while she
was crossing a street in the middle of a residential block. They
circled her like Mongol raiders, knocking the books out of her
hands and jeering at her tears. Several other homebound students
witnessed the raid but most kids learn early not to draw attention
to themselves when one of their number becomes the focus of
unwanted malevolent attention.
I was in a different situation regarding the victim, of course.
I was not a fighter, not in any way. I never picked fights,
preferring to use my already sharp tongue. And if my tongue caused
someone to chase me, I ran. I may not have been physically
courageous but I wasn't stupid either.
But this was something else altogether. I didn't stop to think
about it. I just dropped my book bag and my gym shoes on the
sidewalk and ran the fifty yards to the marauders, becoming more
angry with every stride. My profanity wasn't very developed
anyway, so I kept my mouth shut. I also knew instinctively that
taking on three boys my own size required surprise tactics. I was
heading directly toward Alex, though I had no idea what I was going
to do when I reached her.
As it happened, one of the bastards nearly intercepted my course
without yet noticing me, and I jumped in the air knee-high and
kicked his bike with my feet as my body hurtled into his. He never
knew what hit him. His bike and his head bounced off the asphalt
simultaneously, with a satisfying double-crash.
I scrambled up and saw a hand reaching for me with an
unbelieving face behind it as the next rider missed hitting me by
inches. I grabbed the hand and the wrist and hung on, and the boy
yanked himself off his bike by his own momentum. He landed on his
knees and tried to grab my leg with his other hand, so I kicked him
hard in the face and let go of him. Instinct again. Had I stopped
to think about what I was doing, he would have beaten the crap out
of me. But he shrieked, went over on his back, and clapped both
hands over his nose and mouth.
The third boy had slewed his bike sideways in a frantic attempt
not to run into his buddy, and now had gotten the cuff of his jeans
caught in the chain. He had his back turned as he tried to
extricate himself from his machine. I yelled wordlessly and jumped
on his back, grabbed his hair, and began knocking his face against
the horizontal bar of the bike. Kids don't fight "fair" when it's
a serious contest; they take any advantage they can get.
He reached behind him, managed to grab my ear, and tried hard to
pull it off. I yelped at the sudden pain and tried to disengage,
but he hung on and twisted himself around where he could get both
hands on me. I wasn't going to get out of this unbruised; some of
my anger began to be replaced by fear.
But all this time, all two or three minutes of it, I'd forgotten
about Alex. She was angry, too. As the third boy cocked his free
arm, preparing to bury his fist in my eye, my sweet sister let him
have it from behind with her history textbook -- the thick, heavy
one. I was focused on that fist and heard three separate thudding
sounds before I realized what was happening. The repeated
concussions made the third Mongol forget all about me. He was
crying and yelling and trying to get away. He finally escaped by
tearing his jeans, leaving part of the cuff wedged in the chain,
and falling over his bike. The pointed front of the bicycle seat
caught him square in the nuts and then he was rolling around in the
street, clutching his crotch and moaning.
The first boy was trying not very successfully to sit up. Blood
was running down his neck and across his head and he had managed to
smear it across his face. At first glance, he appeared to have
been scalped.
The second one was still covering his lower face with his hands
and there was blood all down his shirt front and one tooth lying in
the street. He saw it too, and picked it up and stared at it. The
only blood on me belonged to the other three, though I had managed
to rip two buttons off my shirt.
As I said, I'm not a fighter, and I suddenly began to shake,
sitting there in the street. The thrill of victory was whooping
somewhere in the back of my mind, but it was mostly obscured by
growing fear. Mother and Dad were going to kill me. I'd probably
be expelled. Maybe I'd have to talk to the police. Alex was
alternately sobbing and laughing as she hung onto my arm. When she
felt me shaking, though, she came to her senses more quickly than
I did.
"C'mon," she said urgently. "Let's get outta here."
She pulled and pushed me to my feet and quickly gathered up her
scattered school books. We both looked around. Perhaps a dozen
other students of varying ages were standing, frozen, up and down
the block, some in the street and some on the sidewalk. I saw only
one adult -- a man who had been parking in front of his house ten
yards away and was now standing and leaning over his open car door
with his mouth open. I paid attention to him especially. The
other kids were just kids, but adults were a different species.
The man finally found his voice. "I saw it all, kid, it wasn't
your fault. You two get on home and I'll take care of these
bullies." He looked disgustedly at the three losers and I felt
some relief.
Alex and I hurried back to where I had dropped my own stuff,
noting the nervousness or fright of the smaller children we passed.
Those our own age mostly grinned, though. The boys in the street
were not popular. Probably nobody here was going to volunteer
evidence against me. We walked quickly down the block and around
the corner, making a two-block detour to get home; I didn't want to
have to walk again past the boys I had beaten up.
That's when I realized, for the first time, that I *had* beaten
them. Three-to-one odds, and I had won. A satisfying thing for an
adolescent boy to discover about himself. But there was also the
sobering knowledge that I couldn't get away with that kind of
surprise attack more than once. The story would be all over school
by the end of tomorrow's classes. And I'd have to be careful or I
was going to get my own self beaten up by kids who had decided I
had stepped out of the pecking order. Not to mention the revenge
these three losers would undoubtedly plan against me.
As usual, Alex was reading my mind. "Michael, don't worry." We
were both out of breath from our attempt to escape the scene.
"That man was Charlene Huff's father. He's a cop, a lieutenant or
something. I don't think he's going to bother us or he'd already
have done it. Besides, he said he saw the whole thing. Maybe those
creeps will be in more trouble than us." It was typical that she
said "us" and not "you." She'd only gotten in three blows and her
school dress wasn't even mussed -- never mind that she was the
victim -- but it was still "us."
Then she squeezed my arm and smiled and said "My hero," without
a trace of irony. She made it sound lighthearted but she meant it.
I was no knight in shining armor and we both knew it. She also
knew, now, that I was willing to risk serious trouble on her
behalf. I don't think it came as a surprise to either of us.
We found out later that her estimation of the situation was
pretty much correct. Detective Lieutenant Huff apparently
displayed his badge of office to the three Mongols, which
frightened them into giving their true names and addresses. Then
he made a point of going around to each set of parents to explain
how their sons had ended up in such a sorry condition and why they
hadn't better "assault a little girl" again. Charlene knew the
three, of course, and presumably filled in her father on their
previous terrorist activities. Nobody I knew had ever *seen* the
inside of Juvenile Detention and nobody wanted to. So I was a
minor hero for a few days, mostly to earlier victims of the gang.
And Alex, without telling me, made sure through her girlfriend
network that the word went out: Don't start on me or my brother, or
Charlene Huff's father will hear about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Subject: STORY: "Siblings: The Early Days" (2/5)
From SIBLINGS -- a novel in progress
("The Early Days")
[...from chapter 2...]
I remember very clearly when I realized Alex was growing up,
because it momentarily frightened me. I went into the bathroom one
morning when I was thirteen and found several fresh drops of dark
blood on the tile floor in front of the toilet, by the simple
method of stepping in it. There was more blood in the bowl itself.
I looked wildly at the backs of my arms and legs and checked
quickly in the mirror to see if I had a nosebleed. There wasn't a
mark on me. It had to be my sister, the only other person who ever
used the Upstairs bathroom. So I hurried into her room.
"Alex!" I said too loudly. "Are you all right? Where'd the
blood come from?" She was sleeping on her stomach, but she awoke
with a start, raised her head, and stared at me in alarm.
"What blood?! Where?"
"In the bathroom, on the floor! Did you hurt yourself?" She
stared blankly at me for a moment before her eyes registered
comprehension. She let her head fall back on the pillow.
"No, Dummy. I just started my period during the night. Sorry
I made a mess. I'll clean it up when I get up...." She began to
drowse off again.
Her period. Oh. Yes, that WAS pretty stupid of me. The boys'
Health classes in school covered the physical development of both
sexes, so I knew, in theory, what menstruation was. I just hadn't
put my foot in it before now. I slipped out of my sister's room,
embarrassed and sheepish. Then I returned to the bathroom and
mopped up the blood, now smeared by my foot, and then went back to
lie, wide awake, in my own bed for the two hours before we had to
get up for school.
When the alarm went off, I climbed out of bed again and wandered
back to the bathroom. Alex was already there, in her ubiquitous
sleeping tee-shirt, brushing her teeth. She turned when I came in,
her mouth full of toothpaste.
"I said I'd clean it up, Michael."
"What? Oh. Well, I stepped in it and smeared it, and I didn't
want it to dry there. Besides, I woke you up at five o'clock." I
was still embarrassed, not because she had begun having periods but
because she hadn't mentioned it to me.
My sister could read my expressions as fluently as I could read
hers. "Michael? I didn't mean to embarrass you; I was still
asleep. I started having periods a couple months ago, and I'm just
not used to it yet. It makes me feel pretty weird." She continued
to look at me.
I patted her on the back. "That's okay, Alex. You just caught
me by surprise. I thought you had hurt yourself somehow. This is
a new experience for me, too."
Now I was succumbing to curiosity. "Uh, are you using a-- a
Kotex, or what? I mean, I don't want to pry...."
She replied with her tinkly, high amusement laugh. "No, they're
too bulky, you can see the outline right through your slacks. I'm
using a tampon."
I must have looked blank this time. "Isn't that the same
thing?"
She laughed again and raised the front of her tee shirt above
her panties. "No, it's not! I'm using one now and it doesn't show
at all." She saw my puzzled expression. "In fact, I need to
change it before we go to school. You can watch if you want
to...."
"May I? We didn't get this kind of detail in Health class.
Obviously." I had no idea what this was going to involve but I
suspected it might make me a little sick. Maybe I had better skip
breakfast this morning.
Alex motioned for me to sit on the closed toilet seat while she
got down a cardboard box from the bathroom closet and dug from it
a paper- wrapped cylinder. Then she pushed her panties down and
put one foot up on the seat of the old wooden chair we kept in the
bathroom.
This was also something new. I noted with interest that she was
developing a sizable patch of auburn pubic hair, almost exactly the
same shade as the hair on her head,... and on my head, for that
matter. Then I saw a white string dangling from her crotch.
Holding a folded-over pad of toilet paper between her legs, she
tugged on the string and extracted a bright red something the size
and shape of a hot dog, which glistened wetly. She wrapped it up
carefully in the toilet paper and dropped it in the wastebasket.
There was a strange new aroma about her, very different but not
exactly unpleasant. Just strange.
She dabbed between her legs with another wad of toilet paper,
moistened this time to clean off any blood that had trickled around
the Tampax. Then she quickly unwrapped the fresh pack, revealing
two telescoped cardboard tubes, like a large toy hypodermic.
Spreading her labia with the fingers of one hand, she pushed the
tube up into herself with the other, depressed the "plunger," and
withdrew the tube, which was now tinged with red. A new string
dangled from her crotch.
"See?" she said calmly. "Nothing to worry about. And I just
gave you a free shot at my pussy, too," she added with a grin. She
pulled her panties up and turned back to the sink to wash her
hands.
I sat there another few seconds, thinking about what I had just
seen. Neither of us was particularly body-conscious, so nudity was
not a big thing. I had seen my sister naked a number of times and
vice versa. But this was the first time I had actually been shown
what lay hidden between her legs ... and she had volunteered it.
Was she just teasing me? Or was there a message here I didn't yet
understand? I was pretty sure none of my friends at school who had
sisters had had such an experience, or we all would have heard
about it. I, on the other hand, wouldn't tell them, or anyone
else, a thing. And Alex knew it.
Maybe that's why she did it, I thought. Starting her period
means she's growing up and who else can she show that off to? And
she knows she can trust me not to gossip about it at school.
I reached over to my sister, now standing only a foot away at
the sink, and moved my hand lightly down the back of her thigh and
the inside of her knee. I knew she liked that caress, and she did
indeed look over at me with a wide smile.
"You have a very nice...," I began and then couldn't think of an
appropriate word.
"Pussy? I know. Thank you, Michael." Her smile was warm and
candid. We were an odd couple, even at that age.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
Subject: STORY: "Siblings: The Early Days" (3/5)
From SIBLINGS -- a novel in progress
("The Early Days")
[...from chapter 3...]
I was working on my third model Zero, being careful to use only
the minimum amount of plastic cement. The two halves of each wing
were drying in their network of rubber bands, and I was just about
ready to insert the wings into the slots in the fuselage. The
first two models had come out okay and were lined up on the shelf
before me where I could visually check the wing angles. I painted
a thin bead of cement along the wing slots, inserted the wings,
checked the angles, and prepared to hold my hands steady for five
minutes. I intended to have a flight of three Japanese fighters
arranged in a diving formation over my study desk, properly
detailed and painted and each with its own individual markings.
Alex's head poked in the door, dark red ponytail askew. She
watched in silence for a few seconds as I sat unmoving.
"What are you doing?"
I looked at my sister, then back at the model, then patiently
back at my sister. She saw my expression and held up a hand.
"Okay, I know: You're working on a model. But what are you DOING?"
"I'm holding the wings steady until the cement dries, so they
won't sag."
She nodded as if her worst fears for my sanity had been
realized. I raised an eyebrow. "Hey, do I make fun of the stuffed
animals on your pillow?"
She smiled and continued into my room in cutoffs and a tee
shirt, collapsing on my bed, arms out, with a loud, dramatic sigh.
"I'm bored."
I didn't even look up. "It's 10:30 Saturday morning, Alex. How
can you be bored?" I kind of knew what she meant, though. I mean,
here I was with nothing better to do than build model planes.
"I bet you could think of something to do if you worked at it.
What about the Coven?" My name for the four or five girls she ran
around with, doing "girl things" together.
"Oh, they're all out of town for the weekend, or they have
afternoon dates, or something." She sounded faintly disgusted.
"Michael, could WE do something together?"
"Like what?" The wings were setting up perfectly.
"I dunno -- go to a show maybe? Just go downtown and walk
around and window-shop?"
I looked over at the bed and grinned. "Well, I could take you
to the playground and hold your hand while you go down the *big*
slide...."
She stuck out her tongue and then grinned back. I liked the way
her nose wrinkled when she did that.
"I'm serious! It's a nice day -- we could just go out and do
something and have fun together, couldn't we? Unless you're
embarrassed to be seen with your little sister, of course."
"No, I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you, and you're not so
little anymore, anyway." I thought about discovering her
menstruation a few months before; I tried to think of her as a
"woman" now, but it often wasn't easy.
The Zero's wings had set enough that I could let go of them, but
I slipped a paperback book under each wing, just in case. I turned
sideways in my chair. Alex had her hands behind her head and was
idly kicking one bare foot over her cocked knee. I thought about
things I needed to do, projects I ought to work on. Nothing. I
was caught up on my schoolwork and so, probably, was Alex. No
pressing errands. No place I really had to be today. God, it WAS
going to be a boring day! On the other hand, though Alex and I
teased each other without mercy, I really did like her company and
I knew the feeling was reciprocated. We had become very
comfortable just hanging out together.
"You know what we both need?" I said. "Exercise. EASY
exercise. You feel like hiking around Fremont Park for a couple of
hours?"
Fremont was a large, semi-wild area on the eastern edge of town
that combined lawns and softball fields and cycling paths with
rocky trails and not-too-difficult ravines. High school students
went there with their steadies, to lie in the sun or to sit up
amongst the boulder- strewn hillsides and make out. Young mothers
strolled their infants, older kids climbed trees and tossed
frisbees. In the summer, the park was pretty busy on weekends, but
this was a surprisingly mild day in March and most families would
be stoking up their charcoal for the first cook-out of the year, or
attacking the winter's accumulation of yard work.
Alex considered the suggestion for perhaps half a second before
bouncing up with a broad, sparkling smile. "That's a great idea!
Wait'll I get my Keds!" She hurried out, toes curled for traction
as she angled across the hall.
We frequently rode our bikes over to Fremont, but the idea today
was to hike, and if we parked the bikes someplace -- even locked --
the odds were slim that they would be there when we came back. But
it was only a fifteen-minute bus ride from the end of our block to
the park, so it was still well before noon when we arrived. There
were a few athletic types around, but the families wouldn't begin
to appear before late lunch.
"Wanna head for anyplace special?" Alex asked as we got off the
bus.
"No place special," I replied. "In fact, let's just go wherever
we happen to go. There's no hurry; we can just stroll, okay?"
Alex nodded agreement and we set off at an easy pace along the
tree- edged path that separated the open, nearly empty lawns on our
left from the rolling, rocky hillsides on the right. We ambled
along and I hooked my thumbs in my front pockets. Alex looped her
arm through mine. She was only a inch or so shorter than me and we
fit together quite well.
"This is nice," she said lazily and squeezed my arm.
A few minutes later, we witnessed one of those otherwise minor
incidents, those little public dramas, that can unexpectedly make
a real change in your life. Three boys about ten years old came
tearing down the path on their bikes and swerved around us.
Several lengths behind them was a girl a year or two younger,
wearing jeans and a plaid blouse, peddling as hard as she could.
"Keith!" she yelled angrily. "Mom said not to go off and leave
me! Wait up!"
One of the boys threw up his hands in dramatic frustration and
coasted to a stop while the girl hurried to catch up. The other
two boys began cruising in a circle on the grass off to one side,
laughing at their buddy's encumbrance. The girl skidded to a halt
just behind her brother. She was nearly in tears.
"Why don't you just go home, kid?" Keith looked very disgusted.
"Sisters aren't good for anything!" He glared a challenge at her.
"I just want to play...," the girl replied, looking down at her
shoes.
"Well, we don't want you playing with us! Get away from me!
Just leave me alone!" And he did a wheelie on his bike as he raced
off to join his friends. They all headed for the beginning of one
of the park's network of hill trails.
The girl watched them go, then slowly turned her bike around and
headed back the other way. She wasn't crying aloud, but the misery
of rejection was plain in her eyes. There were tears on her cheeks
and she was biting her lower lip. As she passed us, I realized
that Alex was about to say something to her.
Bad idea. I trapped the hand that had begun to slip off my arm
and said, softly but firmly, "No."
Alex looked at me, startled, and then the girl had passed and so
had the opportunity to intervene.
"Why did you stop me?" She looked surprised. "I was just going
to tell her not to worry -- that not all brothers are like that.
Didn't you see the way he treated that poor kid?"
I raised my eyebrows; she really didn't understand. "In other
words, you were going to point out to her how much luckier YOU
were. And how would that have made her feel?"
Alex opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. She
looked for a moment at the snubbed girl, who was peddling slowly
into the distance with her head down, then looked back at me and
nodded unhappily.
"You're right; I didn't think. Sorry." She took my arm again
and we went on. She was thinking, and I thought I knew what about,
but I kept my mouth shut.
My sister looked over and stared at my profile for several
seconds before asking, "Michael,... why aren't we like that?"
My thoughts had been running along the same lines. "You mean,
why don't we detest each other, the way everyone else we know
does?" She smiled slightly and nodded. "Alex, I don't know. But
I'm glad it's different with us."
"Me, too." She squeezed my arm, just a little.
"Maybe," I continued, "maybe we're just different from everyone
else, period. I mean, how many people do we know who would even be
talking about this? We've always gotten along pretty well --
haven't we? Is that abnormal for brothers and sisters? Or maybe
we just left that stuff behind quicker than most people."
Alex was nodding her head. She looked at me again and smiled.
"Maybe we're emotional geniuses...."
I snorted and we went on. After awhile we found ourselves
stepping from ledge to ledge up a hillside trail. There was a
series of broad slate shelves to one side near the top of the hill,
screened from above by scrub and juniper, which had obviously been
left as a bench for climbers. You could see most of the park from
there, as well as the trail we had climbed. It seemed like a good
place to sit and talk, which I think we both unconsciously wanted
to do.
I sat and stuck my legs out, flexing my knees. I needed to get
this kind of exercise more often; except for swimming, maybe I was
becoming too "bookish." My sister stepped up on the ledge just
behind mine, sat down, and leaned her chin on my shoulder. It was
an affectionate gesture and I liked it. But her question wasn't
what I had expected.
"Michael, how do you feel about me?"
I considered for a moment, but I wasn't sure what she was really
asking. "You mean, do I like you more than that kid likes *his*
sister. Sure."
"Well,... no -- not exactly."
Her voice had an odd tone. I started to turn to look at her but
she quickly laid her hand atop my head and prevented it.
"Don't look at me!" she added, so I didn't. "I mean, uh,...
um,... Michael, do you love me?" It came out in a rush.
I hadn't had a chance to thing of a good answer so I said the
first thing that came into my head. "Of course, I love you, Alex.
You're my sister and I care about you a lot."
Her cheek was next to my ear and I could feel her smile. Then
she surprised me again: She kissed me on the cheek and quickly sat
back. She had kissed me before, when I gave her a birthday present
or did her some kind of favor, but somehow this was different. I
motioned for her to move down beside me, which she did. Then I put
my arm around her neck, my hand dangling loose over her shoulder,
and I studied her.
"So? Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"
She shrugged, a bit embarrassed, and reached up to lace her
fingers through mine. "I don't know,... I just wondered...." I
continued to look at her expectantly so she went on.
"Well, that girl looked so unhappy awhile ago, and I was
thinking that I'm usually *happy* around you, and,... well, I just
wondered."
Then I surprised myself. I leaned over and kissed her at the
corner of her eye. She was a little startled and put her other
hand up to touch the spot. I knew that most guys my age would
rather eat dirt than kiss their sisters, but it felt like something
I wanted to do, and I realized immediately that I had enjoyed it.
Alex was my sister, yes -- but she was also a very pretty girl,
and I definitely liked girls. Also, she was my very best friend,
barring no one. I had warm feelings toward her on all accounts,
and I had reason to think she felt much the same way about me. How
long had I felt this way? For as long as I could remember.
Looking back, I can see that we were unusually mature emotionally,
and I can offer no explanation for that.
Because Alex was right: We had never fought, the way most
siblings did. We argued, often heatedly, but we never sank to
name-calling. If we stomped off in opposite directions after a
spat, we always felt guilty soon afterward and sought each other
out to be the first to apologize.
I'm not sure our parents were aware of any of this, either. As
I've said, we were the objects of benign neglect in most matters,
and we made up our own social and psychological norms. We played
together when we were little, we shared our toys with almost no
arguments, we took each other's part automatically in dealings with
other kids (like the famous incident with the Three Bullies) -- we
cooperated to what was undoubtedly an unnatural degree. It wasn't
an attitude or a relationship we arrived at by forethought; it just
seemed to be a part of our emotional makeup.
All our lives we had been close, but now we were both growing
up. I was becoming acutely aware that there was a female body
under the jeans and sweatshirts and -- also unusual -- I didn't
feel guilty or even strange about the realization.
In retrospect, I believe my sister also had a crush on me. I
was beginning to catch her watching me unobtrusively with an
expression of vague longing. At the time, I just thought she was
acting a little oddly. Certainly, I had a matching crush on her;
I simply didn't recognize it.
I know I wondered at the time if our relaxed companionability
was a "phase" that would end, if we would soon be at each other's
throats like everyone else. I hoped that wouldn't happen. I was
really beginning to consciously enjoy and appreciate my sister's
friendly presence, taken so long for granted. I liked living with
someone so similar in appearance, style, and tastes to myself,
someone I could talk to about absolutely anything without being
jeered. Someone so cute, too. And I didn't think of any of this
as "wrong." It was just the way we were, and the fact that we
recognized so early that we were different seemed to isolate us
even more from our friends and classmates. It drew us more closely
together.
I had my friends, Alex had her friends, and we shared a few
friends. But then there was "Alex-and-me," and that was like a
third person in which each of us shared half the responsibility.
We sat there on the rock ledge by the trail, thinking much the
same thoughts and reaching the same conclusions. Alex snuggled a
little closer and leaned against me, and I replied by putting my
arm around her and squeezing her in a soft hug.
"Michael," she said softly without looking up, "I'm lucky to
have you for a brother, aren't I?" She paused and the tenor of her
voice saddened. "This probably can't go on, you know that, don't
you? What's going to happen to us?"
"It'll go on as long as both of us want it to, Alex." It was
what I hoped, not what I knew. We were still very young and hope
comes easy at that age.
Alex turned sideways to face me. "Would it be too strange if I
kissed you? I mean, on the lips?"
"Not to me it wouldn't be."
She reached up to my cheek as I spoke and I put my hand on the
back of her neck. I felt warm and tender toward her at that
moment, but it wasn't exactly "romantic." Neither was it
consciously sexual. More like a deliberate emotional bonding.
Our lips met hesitantly. Neither of us had really done this
before with anyone -- in cold blood, so to speak. But we gained
confidence quickly. That first real kiss between us lasted maybe
thirty seconds and it was careful and gentle and exploratory, and
it felt so very, very nice. And so entirely natural, as if it were
destined. Neither of us had second thoughts.
When our lips parted we simply sat and gazed at each other, our
hands still in place. It certainly felt like a "magic moment" but
neither of us was quite sure why.
I date my love for Alex, for my beautiful and perfect sister,
from that moment. I wasn't aware of any kind of emotional
watershed at the time, of course. But, looking back, that kiss was
when our attitudes and feelings toward each other began slowly to
crystalize. When I told that to Alex, years later, she simply
nodded in agreement. Our first deliberate kiss, she said, was like
being thirsty and "taking a long drink from a cool well." She felt
the unexplainable difference, too. And things were never the same
for us again.
* * * * *
Without having to think about it, I knew I had more access to
Alex's body than was ordinarily the case. A guy in gym was
bragging one day about having caught a glimpse of his older
sister's "snatch" (a word I never cared for) and I remember
disapproving of his leering description and of the snickering
reaction of his listeners.
I was as perpetually horny as any other adolescent male, and I
was both appreciative of and aroused by the large areas of skin
Alex casually revealed to me more and more frequently. But I
certainly wasn't going to describe my sister's many luscious
attributes with these lowlifes. The braggart had actually gone on
recon, hanging out around his house at locations where he would
have the best opportunity to steal a peek at his sister's naked
body.
Alex showed me what she was willing for me to see -- which was
virtually all of her -- and there was no sneaking involved. She
was proud of her body and she enjoyed showing it off to an audience
she could trust. She never said "Don't tell anyone," nor did she
even imply it, because she knew it wasn't necessary. I had the
usual doubts about my own developing sexual equipment, but Alex
watched with interest when I changed clothes or took a leak -- and
that never embarrassed me, either. How many penises could she
compare with mine at the age of thirteen?
After our walk in the park and our first real kiss, there was a
subtle change in our behavior toward each other, especially at
home. Previously, if my door was shut, Alex would knock and wait
for me to invite her in. I gave her the same courtesy. But now
our personal privacy began to disappear, entirely by mutual
consent. I'd knock at her door and then go in, without waiting for
permission; Alex did the same. If she was in her underwear, she
didn't make a big deal of it, so neither did I. Then our doors
were only half-closed, not shut. Then only occasionally closed at
all.
The same was true of the bathroom: If one of us was on the
toilet, the other ignored the fact. We still were pretty private,
but now it was a *shared* privacy directed toward the outside
world. It was as if that kiss had sealed a pact of trust between
us.
We also spent more and more time together, just occupying
adjacent space. Instead of each of us studying in our own rooms,
Alex took to occupying my bed, sprawled out with books and papers
scattered around her, while I studied at my desk (which was
actually a large, old oak library table).
We might not say a word for an hour or more, the silence broken
only by the rustle of paper and the scratching of pencils, but just
being near each other as we worked made the homework easier. And
I discovered the pleasures of reading a novel while lying on my
back with my head cushioned in a girl's lap. Sometimes I would
look up from whatever I was doing to find Alex simply watching me
and smiling. Then I discovered I was doing the same thing.
We began going for walks regularly, but almost always outside
our own part of town. We knew instinctively that our friends and
acquaintances would hassle us, and we didn't want to start any
rumors, either. Because when we went window-shopping downtown or
climbing in the hills, we frequently held hands. I'm sure
strangers, if they noticed us at all, assumed I was Alex's
boyfriend, not her brother, even though we looked so much alike.
We also went to the shows at the old-style theaters downtown,
the ones with balconies. We would find ourselves surrounded in an
upper loge by a dozen scattered couples passionately making out,
and we would look around, grin, and squeeze our clasped hands. I
could put my arm around my sister in a dark theater, too, and she
could snuggle up against me unobserved. I began to long for a
driver's license, but that was still two years away.
Oddly enough, after that first experience on the hillside, we
seldom kissed, except for a perfunctory "thank you" on the cheek.
Perhaps we regarded it as too valuable and special an experience
and we wanted to preserve its rarity. Or maybe we were just
fearful of the implications. We recognized that out affection for
each other was growing with every passing month, but that didn't
mean we understood it. There were occasions, however....
* * * * *
Alex played flute in the junior high band for two years; it
later became one activity too many, and she dropped band so she
could stay on the swim team. And the flute section, as every
band-survivor knows, is on the very front row. When the Spring
Concert -- the biggest musical event of the year -- came around, my
little sister discovered she had outgrown last year's "special"
dress; as slender as she was, she had still added an inch or more
around the bust. Had she been a couple of rows back, mostly hidden
from view, she might have tried to fake it by letting out a few
seams, but for the front row she knew she'd have to have a new
dress.
The rule in our family had always been that Mother and Dad kept
us respectably clothed -- which they certainly did -- but that
fancy non-necessaries, like jewelry, and party dresses, and leather
jackets, either came at the usual gift times or were paid for with
money we earned ourselves.
Alex had a conference downstairs with Mother and came away from
it with a $20 contribution. She had another $15 stashed away from
babysitting and typing term papers, I knew, but from what I heard
her say, the perfect dress, the one she really, really wanted, cost
$49.95.
Cokes were still a dime then and I could buy a new pair of Hush
Puppies for under $10, so what she had in mind was a significant
target. And Alex was $15 short. I asked her if she had actually
counted up her savings and she replied morosely that she *knew* how
much was in the old stationary box in her bottom drawer.
I thought about it for at least thirty minutes. I had my own
savings, of course, in a battered tobacco tin wedged up in my bed
springs, and I had vague plans for it. But it really made me
unhappy to see my sister so unhappy. I dug out the tin and counted
nearly $40; I took out fifteen singles and stuck them in my pocket.
I could always mow more lawns.
While Alex was out on an errand later that afternoon, I opened
her bottom drawer and dug out her money box. She had twelve
singles, the four fives Mother had given her, and a double fistful
of quarters. The bills were neatly paperclipped together, and I
smoothed out my contribution and added it to the clip.
Alex wandered in and plopped down on my bed an hour later. When
I asked her if she had come up with any ideas for the dress she
wanted, she shook her head slowly and continued to stare at the
ceiling.
"Look," I said, "why don't you go and actually count your
savings? When was the last time you did that? You probably don't
have any idea how much you have!"
"I counted it a month ago and it was less than $20, I know."
"Would you PLEASE just go and count it again?"
She was becoming a bit annoyed. "Okay, okay, I'll count it
again! But it's not enough!" And off she went. I heard her
dresser drawer open and shut. Her bed squeaked as she dumped the
box out on her comforter. I could barely make out her voice.
"...four, five, six,..."
When she finished, there was a pause of several seconds and then
she re-counted, a little louder. Another pause, and she went
through the bills a third time. Then there was a much longer pause
and I grinned to myself as I pictured her bewilderment. Then I
heard her bed squeak again and her bare feet slowly crossed the
hall. I had to struggle to keep a straight face as she came
through the door, bills clutched in both hands, and a look of mixed
puzzlement and suspicion on her face.
"I *couldn't* have had this much!"
"I always knew you couldn't count above three," I replied,
raising my eyebrows.
"Michael -- did *you* put more money in there? From your
savings?"
"Who, me?" I tried to look innocent. "Why would I do that?"
But I was like a pane of window glass to Alex. She walked over
to my desk chair. "I KNOW why you did it. Now, stand up."
I must have looked a bit puzzled myself as I pushed the chair
back and got up.
She put her arms around my neck and stared me square in the eye,
her nose an inch from mine. "You did it because you're absolutely
wonderful, and I don't deserve you for a brother," she said softly
with tears in her lashes. Then she kissed me, slowly, lingeringly,
in a way that sent muscle spasms through my toes. I held her by
the shoulders because I was, frankly, afraid to put my arms around
her waist. I wasn't sure I would be able to let go. That kiss
seemed to go on and on, though it probably lasted only a minute or
two.
She hugged me, her cheek damp against mine. "Why do you do
things like this for me? I'll pay you back before school's out, I
promise."
"You'll do no such thing," I replied firmly. I had already
thought about this, too, and I knew how I wanted it to be. "That's
not a loan; it's a gift. More than that: It's yours because you
need it more right now than I do. Alex, you're my sister and I
want you to be happy. Anything I have -- anything I *ever* have --
is yours. Always."
She pulled her head back and stared at me, and then her
expression shifted and the look on her face held such wonder and
happiness that I got tingly feelings in all my nerve endings. And
there was something else in her face that I couldn't identify at
the time, and which she may not even have realized was there.
But I've seen it many times since when she looks at me. It was
the first dawn of real love. It was more than just affection --
and it struck me like the sun rising on a summer day. Then she
hugged me again and her arms trembled as she tried not to burst
into tears. And this time I put my arms around her and hugged
back. Like Alex, I wasn't sure what had just happened -- was still
happening -- but I felt, again, as I had after our very first kiss,
an almost physical change in my feeling for my sister, a change I
was certain she had experienced, too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted
elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are
reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Subject: STORY: "Siblings: The Early Days" (4/5)
From SIBLINGS -- a novel in progress
("The Early Days")
[...from chapter 4...]
I began going out on real dates when I was fifteen. These days,
I suppose, kids of both sexes are old hands at dating by the time
they're twelve, but parents weren't so progressive in the middle
America of my adolescence. I was always perfectly at ease with Alex
but I often seemed to be afflicted with stupidity around other
girls. Before and after school and during gym, the boys would
gather and pool their intelligence on the girls, liberally salting
their accounts with exaggeration, complete lies, and inept
psychological analysis.
It was a relief to discover, through Alex, that the girls were
following much the same procedure. For my sister was my secret
weapon in that first, tentative confrontation between the sexes,
and I was hers.
"One of the guys claims Liz Nowotny almost never wears panties
to school," I might remark hopefully.
Alex would giggle in delight. "Well, she must change in her hall
locker then! She wears fake satin underwear in gym class!"
Sometimes there would be a bonus: "She also pads her bra with
tissues!" Which I would then report back to the trenches on the
boys' side of the field, adopting a knowing smirk if someone
demanded documentation.
Within a few months, Alex was also enrolled in the dating game.
If a boy asked her out whom she was uncertain of, she often came to
me for a background check. I don't believe I was ever really
jealous of the fact that my little sister was out at night, holding
hands in a movie or making out in the back seat of a car. She was
all mine at home, after all.
She seemed to have much the same attitude. We were unnatural
allies in the genetic competition. We teased each other
remorselessly about our dates, but we also were willing to betray
our same-sex friends to spare each other social disaster and
personal humiliation.
"Tommy Thatcher?! Alex, don't you know that every girl he even
manages to hold hands with, three hours later he's bragging he
screwed her or at least felt her up? And he tells every guy in
school!"
Or, "Why would you even *think* of asking Eileen Zimmer to a
pool party?! Nobody's ever even seen her knees in the locker room,
she's such a prude. If she even *owns* a swim suit, I'll bet it has
long legs and sleeves and a full skirt!"
And so we managed to save ourselves from most situations of
potential public embarrassment. There was a positive side to our
information exchange, too. If my sister told me that a girl I was
planning to ask out loved to collect hickeys in unusual places to
show off to her friends, then I would make an effort to be
creative.
And when Alex went out on a tennis date with Brian, a reasonably
intelligent jock I knew from math class, I informed her in advance
of his admiration for girls who weren't afraid to compete with him;
he abhorred simpering "lil' ol' me" types. So she played the game
hard and worked up a real sweat, and although Brian won the match,
it wasn't by much. He stopped me in the hall the next day, grinning
and shaking his head.
"That's some sister you got, man! Really a neat girl!" I could
only agree with him.
Since Alex and I had tacitly agreed long before that we could
tell or ask each other anything, our dating experiences led to more
intimate dialogue. We began to relate our discoveries and blunders
to each other in detail and to compare interpretations and
perspectives.
* * * * *
One Sunday night when it was uncomfortably warm and humid, we
spread a comforter on the floor in my room and lay on our backs in
front of the laboring window air conditioning unit, I in my briefs,
she in her red rayon bikini panties -- a recent acquisition which
demonstrated her growing confidence about herself. We lay like
starfish, limbs outstretched and overlapping, trying to stay cool.
Alex was absently trailing her fingernails lightly over my chest
and shoulders, creating a delightfully shivery sensation. When we
were alone together these days, the need for physical contact was
almost overwhelming.
I needed to tell her about my date the night before, which had
not been a notable success; I wanted to understand why. And, as
usual, Alex made it easy for me.
bookmark
"So, how was your date with Susie Ellis?"
"Awful! She'll never go out with me again."
I regretted it, too. Susie was not only a very cute little
blonde, she was also bright and articulate. I valued intelligent
conversation on a date, along with the kissing and groping.
"When I put my arm around her in the theater, she liked it; she
even leaned over toward me on the arm rest. But when I took her
home and tried to put my arm around her so I could kiss her
goodnight, she went stiff as a board and practically shoved me
away! I see her in class every day, and she's friendly enough then.
What did I do?!"
Alex chuckled sympathetically. "I think in the movie she felt
safe because there were a lot of other people around; in the car,
she was all alone with you." Alex glanced over and saw that I
wasn't getting her point.
"You probably don't know this," she continued, "but last year
Susie was attacked by some creep, an older man, in the parking lot
at Sears. He pushed her into a car and started grabbing her tits
and stuff before she could scream. Artie and a couple other guys
heard her and ran over to help, but the creep took off and they
couldn't catch him. Anyway, Susie's still afraid of being alone
with a guy, I think. So it wasn't anything you did, really."
The next Friday night, I ran into Susie at the football game and
we sat together in the stands and rah-rah'ed together and laughed
together ... and I was careful not to touch her.
Making our way slowly out of the packed stadium afterward, I
invited her for a coke and offered to include a ride home. She
glanced over her shoulder at me and hesitated a moment, but then
she smiled and accepted. We gossiped and chattered about
inconsequential things over our fountain drinks for half an hour,
and Susie relaxed in my company. And I still kept my hands to
myself.
When we arrived in front of her house, though, her smile
suddenly seemed frozen with tension. I set the hand brake and
immediately hopped out and went around to open her door for her.
She looked surprised and relieved, and as I walked her slowly up
the winding flagstones to her door I kept my fingers hooked in my
back belt loops.
"'Night, Susie; I really enjoyed it. See you in Math tomorrow,
okay?" I turned to go but she reached out and touched my arm.
"Michael, wait..." I turned to face her again. Now her eyes and
her lips said she thought she was willing to be kissed, but I still
waited. It had to be her own decision.
"You're really a nice guy..." She twisted her hands together and
bit her lip for a moment, undecided about how to proceed. Then she
looked up at me from under her lashes and said in a soft
almost-whisper, "Would you kiss me...?"
I smiled my most trustworthy smile and held her chin still with
one finger laid carefully along her jaw line. Do it slowly, don't
grab, I told myself. I leaned forward and pressed my lips firmly
against hers. No tongue, no nibbling. Her eyes fluttered shut and
she sighed a little as she leaned into the kiss.
She was basically a friendly person; she wanted to like people.
I knew she was relieved to discover she could overcome her
lingering fright, to find that she could again enjoy this wonderful
human contact. And that was what I intended her to feel. Susie was
a very nice girl and it really bothered me that the assault she had
undergone also had separated her from boys who liked her and who
meant her no harm at all. We broke contact slowly and before I
straightened, I brushed away the tears shining on her lower lashes.
"It's okay, Susie," I said softly. "I know you always have to be
careful, but not everyone is a son of a bitch."
She swallowed and nodded, quickly kissed me once more on the
cheek, squeezed my hand, and slipped through the door. I walked
back to the car, hands in my pockets, feeling pleased with myself
and pleased for Susie. It hadn't been a completely unselfish act,
I knew that well enough, but it was still the right thing to have
done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Subject: STORY: "Siblings: The Early Days" (5/5)
From SIBLINGS -- a novel in progress
("The Early Days")
[...from chapter 5...]
My sister and I always followed our own rules in our increasing
sexual involvement -- which mostly meant my being patient and
sticking to an unwritten, probably unknown schedule that she could
deal with. Unfortunately, because she had become used to my gentle
patience and my willingness to work around her occasional
nervousness, Alex seemed to expect the same from all the boys she
went out with.
It was her fifth or sixth date, I think, when her optimistic
assumptions got her into trouble. It was one of those rare Friday
nights when Alex had a date but I didn't. I'd had a bad head cold
for several days, missing school and staying home in bed to enjoy
my misery. The cold was about gone by Friday, but I was still
recovering and not feeling great, and my makeup homework was
stacked up on my desk, so I stayed home.
Alex was out at a movie with Allen Somebody from one of her
classes, a guy I didn't know except that he played basketball on
the junior varsity squad. About 10:30 that night the phone rang
and since I knew Mother was already asleep I put down "Oliver
Twist" and answered it. On the other end was Alex, sounding very
tense and upset.
"Michael? I'm so glad it's you! I'm in trouble. I mean, I'm
not hurt or anything -- but I'm stranded and could you *please*
come and get me? I'm by myself and it's pretty dark here and it's
making me nervous."
She told me the intersection where her pay phone was located; I
recognized it and remembered that there was a convenience store
nearby. I told her to go into the store and stay there, and I'd
come as soon as possible.
I was still in my jeans, so I hauled on a tee shirt, grabbed my
loafers and my wallet, and trotted quietly downstairs. I hopped on
my moped, coasted down the driveway, popped the starter, and took
off.
What in the world could have happened? Alex sounded like she
was on the verge of tears, not so much from fright as from anger,
and she had her control clamped down tightly. She had said she
wasn't hurt. Had she been in a wreck? If so, where was her date?
I would have been embarrassed for myself had I slipped into a state
of panic -- but I admitted that my anxiety level was increasing.
Alex saw me pull up to the curb in front of the store and came
out to meet me. She looked all right, composed and smiling. But
as she got closer and saw the concern on my face, the smile
crumpled and she threw her arms around my neck and pressed her face
against my shoulder, nearly knocking me off the motorbike. She
wasn't very coherent; all I could make out was "That son of a
bitch!"
I stroked her hair and held her for a few moments. "Alex, are
you sure you're okay? You're not hurt?"
"No, I'm NOT okay," she sniffed, "but I'm not hurt. Please,
let's just go home!" She climbed on the back of the bike,
gathering her full skirt between her knees so it wouldn't get
caught in the chain and kill us both. We buzzed off and she held
me tightly around the waist and pressed her cheek to my shoulder
blade, which felt nice. She had calmed down on the surface but she
was still upset, and I wanted badly to know why.
I waited until we were back upstairs and Alex had kicked her
shoes off -- clear across the room -- and had sat down on her bed.
Her head was down and her hands were in her lap, fidgeting. I
leaned against her dresser, tried to assume a sympathetic
expression, and said, "So...?"
My sister looked younger than usual; I thought it might be
because she was still a little scared. But why wasn't Allen
Whoever in the picture somewhere? She took a deep breath and
looked up at me unhappily.
"I'm sorry I had to holler for help, Michael, but I'm glad you
came and got me. I thought about it on the way home, and I guess
it was partly my fault--"
I interrupted. "Alex, what are we talking about? Why don't you
just start at the beginning?"
"Yeah, okay. Allen Stone asked me out -- he's in my history
class -- and he's nice-looking, and the girls I asked said he was
okay, so I said yes. We went to a show, and then for ice cream,
and he *did* seem nice. A little too full of himself, maybe, but
a lot of the guys I know are like that." She gave me a quick
'exception' smile.
"Then he asked if I'd like to go up and see the view from
Pilot's Point -- you know, where the kids with the expensive cars
go to park. He was driving his father's T-Bird. I thought 'why
not?' I can take care of myself. So we went up there and parked
-- and then he kind of changed. I just wanted to make out a
little, you know? But he wanted a lot more than that! Oh, God.
He's too strong and I had to fight him off, and he scared the hell
out of me. I mean, we kissed, and I let him play with my tits a
little -- but I kept my clothes on. But then he pushed me down on
the seat and pulled my skirt up, and he got my panties part-way
off, and I couldn't struggle because he was on top of me, and I
couldn't even yell or anything because he kept kissing me so hard,
and...." She ran out of breath and the tears were coming and her
voice was shaking.
I moved quickly to the bed and sat and held her, and stroked her
back, and she clung to me. Her tears were on my neck and her
fingers were squeezing my shoulder. I was angry, and getting
angrier by the second. When she calmed down again she continued
her story, but she didn't let go of me.
"I finally got one hand loose and held the horn button down, and
he quit because people were looking at us from the other cars.
Then he called me some terrible names and drove me back, and I was
scared all the way! He took me as far as that corner, which was
the first pay phone he saw, and told me to get out of the car."
I hugged her, meaning to comfort her, but she flinched and
gasped slightly. I sat back abruptly and looked more closely at
her. "Alex, are you *sure* you're all right? Did he hurt you?"
She snuffled a few times and stood up, silently unbuttoning her
dress and dropping it (and her half-slip) to the floor around her
ankles. There was a purple and green bruise across the upper part
of one breast, half-covered by her bra. Another bruise spread
across the inside of her thigh. And her panties were torn
completely open across the front, held up only by the elastic.
My fists clenched and I felt myself begin to shake. My sister
was a very sexy girl and she was correct in that she had had plenty
of practice looking out for herself. But no frustrated date had
ever assaulted her before. She was very adept at sending out the
right signals, and most guys will accept that whether they like it
or not. But this Allen Stone wouldn't accept "No." And he was
going to pay for it.
I took Alex in my arms again, carefully this time, and we stood
and held each other for a few minutes. It was almost midnight, but
what I had to do wouldn't wait until tomorrow. I led Alex into the
bathroom and urged her to run a hot tub and soak for awhile. I'd
be back. She looked at me with some apprehension as she undressed.
"Michael, don't do anything stupid -- please? He's a lot bigger
than you are."
I smiled reassuringly and went back to my room and looked up
Allen Stone in the school directory. Then I dug out my leather
jacket. It was meant to keep out the cold when I was out on my
moped at night, but it was also enough like the classic black
motorcycle jacket to afford some physical protection as well. I
added the heavy, hard-toed shoes I used for hiking and climbing.
Then I dug through my odds-and-ends drawer and located the
thirty-inch length of coaxial cable I had found on the side of the
road a year or two before, probably scrap dropped by some line
crew. It was an inch of spiral copper strands wrapped around a
solid core, with a thick, hard, black rubber covering, and it had
a satisfying heft.
I slipped quietly out the back door and coasted my bike a short
way down the block before revving the motor. I hoped Alex hadn't
heard me leave.
The Villain lived about half a mile away and all the way over
there my mind kept replaying images of Alex's bruises and torn
underwear. I wasn't shaking anymore; my anger had escalated to a
cold, hard rage that planted a dull throb behind my eyes. I was
not yet sixteen and I was prepared to commit murder, if necessary.
As I buzzed up the short street Stone lived on, I saw
immediately which house I wanted: There was a jazzed up Mustang
parked in the drive next to a white T-Bird. A bulky-looking
character was leaning against the fender of the Mustang, drinking
out of a can. I stuck the cable/club into the back of my jeans and
coasted to a stop ten yards away from the guy, who was watching me
curiously. I could smell the beer and I noticed three empties
lined up on the trunk lid behind him. My sister seemed to be losing
her taste in dates.
I walked a few feet closer and stopped with my hands in my
jacket pockets. "You Allen Stone?" That coldness in the front of
my brain was making me foolhardy.
His eyes flicked up and down, measuring my height, which was a
bit less than his, and my weight, which was considerably less. He
was about seventeen -- two years older than me.
"Alex is my sister. You beat up on her, you son of a bitch!"
I wished, at that moment, that I owned a revolver.
The guy stared at me uncomprehendingly for a moment before my
identity clicked. Then he sneered.
"She's a fuckin' tease. I should have slugged her. And what
are *you* gonna do about it, kid?" He didn't know it, but he was
at a psychological disadvantage. This was just a game to him, but
not to me.
"What's the matter, asshole? You can't beat up on anyone but
little girls?" I put one hand in my back pocket and took a grip on
the club with the other. Stone's eyebrows lowered and his face got
red, and he took several quick steps toward me, still holding the
beer can.
"You little punk!"
Make him come to me, I thought -- especially when he isn't
expecting a fight. He reached for the front of my jacket but his
hand was still a foot away when I yanked out the length of cable
and swung it overhand. I brought it down as hard as I could on his
wrist. He yelped in shock and startlement and dropped his beer.
While he was still standing there clutching his numbed wrist, I
brought the cable around in a backhand and, by sheer luck, caught
him high on the side of the cheekbone. He stumbled back and held
up both arms to protect himself. From the way he favored his
injured wrist, I thought I might have broken it -- with any luck.
That would keep him out of basketball for awhile.
As he moved back, I stepped in. He hadn't expected this attack
at all and he certainly wasn't prepared for it; if he had been,
he'd be pounding me to a pulp right now. The beer was on my side,
fortunately, because he wasn't reacting intelligently.
I pretended I was kicking off in a football game and caught him
solid and hard in the crotch with my steel-capped toe. His mouth
opened but no sound came out, and the blood disappeared from his
face. He fell heavily to his knees, clutching his balls --
crushed, I hoped -- then hunched over and vomited stale-smelling
beer all over his driveway.
Since his head was already down, I switched from football to
golf. Getting a firm two-handed grip on my club, I swung it up
into the creep's face, hitting him squarely under the jaw just as
he started to raise his head. His teeth clacked together loudly
and his head snapped back. All my hours of swimming practice had
made me stronger in the shoulders than I looked. I stepped back as
his eyes rolled up and he slumped sideways into his own puddle of
vomit. Very appropriate, I thought.
I prodded him a couple times in the Adam's apple with the rough
end of the cable and he gagged as he returned to partial
consciousness. I poked him again to get his attention.
"That was for Alex, creep. If you ever come within five feet of
my sister again, I'll kill you." I didn't scream or threaten; I
spoke almost conversationally. Perhaps it was the cold, calm tone
of voice that made him look at me as though he believed me.
"And if you decide to come after me to get even, or if you send
your friends to beat me up, you'd better make sure you kill ME.
Because if you don't, you're dead.
"Listen carefully: My sister is the most important thing in the
world to me. Where she's concerned, I really don't *care* what
happens to me. You might say I'm a little insane on the subject.
I'm prepared to commit murder, if necessary. Are you?" From his
expression, I was sure he believed me now, which was the first
smart thing he'd done this evening.
"Just so you won't forget," I added, and suddenly raised the
club and smashed it down across the center of his face, flattening
the cartilage in his nose.
He'd have a splint on it for weeks; let him try to explain that
to his buddies. Beaten up by a kid two years younger and probably
thirty pounds lighter. But he was clutching his nose with both
hands, retching from the pain, and staring at me like I really was
crazy. And I probably was, for a while there.
The entire encounter had taken less than three minutes and made
very little noise, and the street was still quiet. And I had
learned some valuable lessons. Let them underestimate you and then
take them by surprise. Then, hit 'em first, hit 'em hard, and kick
'em while they're down. When you're outnumbered or outsized,
that's the only way you have a chance of winning.
I quickly wiped the bloody end of the club on the grass and
stuck it behind my back again. Then I climbed on my moped, started
it up, and headed for home without looking back. Halfway there,
though, I had to pull over to the curb for a few minutes, to stop
shaking. I had gone through the entire incident on automatic, and
now the adrenaline rush was catching up with me.
I coasted silently into our driveway, parked by the back door,
and slipped inside as quietly as possible. Alex was dozing on her
bed, sprawled on top of the comforter. She was wearing one of my
old sport shirts, unbuttoned, and I gently opened one side. Her
bruises had deepened in color but they didn't seem to have swollen
much; probably no cracked ribs or anything. The blue on her breast
had gone purple and it made me angry all over again, that her body
had been abused so. Alex stirred and her eyes flickered open.
"I tried to stay awake," she yawned. "You went over to see
Allen, didn't you? What happened?" She struggled to sit up,
grimaced, and pulled me down beside her instead.
"Are you okay?" She searched my face anxiously for evidence of
a fight. But I didn't intend to tell her, in any detail, what had
happened.
"We had a little talk. I think you and that creep are even,
now. He's not going to bother you anymore." Her expression was
full of questions, but she sensed that I wasn't going to talk about
it, not yet.
"Why don't you pass the word around among your girlfriends about
that guy? Show them your bruises. His potential dates ought to be
warned."
She looked solemnly into my eyes a little longer and when it
became obvious I wasn't going to say anything more, she took my
head between her hands and kissed me long and seriously.
Then she flashed that loving smile and murmured, "I usually
*can* look after myself, Michael. But when I can't, I'm glad
you're there to take care of me. I love you..." Then I settled
her in bed and pulled the covers over her, and by the time I
switched off the light she was asleep again.
And as I climbed into my own bed a little while later, I thought
over the incident and wondered if I really *would* have killed
Allen Stone, given a weapon and the opportunity. And I finally
decided 'Yes' -- I would have. It was a useful thing to know about
myself, both good and bad.
We almost always walked home from school together, so on Monday
afternoon I met Alex out in front of the main building, as usual.
She was wide-eyed and gave me a strange look.
"I saw Allen in the hall after Third Period -- and he saw me and
turned around and went the other way. He had a cast on his wrist,
and a plastic splint on his nose, and a very black eye! What
*happened* the other night?"
I didn't think she sounded displeased, but I felt uncomfortable
under her questioning stare. "Was he walking kind of funny?" I
asked. "I kicked him in the nuts, too."
She blinked at me and said slowly, "Are you telling me you beat
up on Allen Stone? Michael, he's a LOT bigger than you are -- you
could've gotten hurt bad!" This was becoming embarrassing.
"Well, he wasn't expecting it. Neither was I. And I don't have
to fight fair. Alex, it was partly luck, and yes, I could have
gotten hurt -- but I didn't."
I slung my book back over my shoulder and started across the
street. Alex found herself hurrying to catch up. I was trying to
avoid further discussion, but she wouldn't let go of it.
"Michael, wait a minute! Why would you DO something like that?"
I stopped and looked her in the eye.
"Did you look at yourself in the mirror the other night?" She
nodded slowly.
"Alex, when I saw the bruises he put on you, and the way he
ripped your clothes,... well, I got angry. I mean *really* angry.
I couldn't stand the thought that someone would do that to you."
I lowered my voice. "I went over there with a weapon. I was going
to kill that geek if I had to."
She couldn't decide if I was serious. "You would've *killed*
somebody because of ME?" Her voice had risen almost to a squeak.
"Michael, I can't believe that!"
I set down my book bag, took hold of her biceps, and gave her
the most serious expression I could muster. "Believe it! Alex,
you have to understand how I feel about you. Yes: I WOULD kill to
protect you. Don't ever doubt it. And if it were a choice between
you and me, I'd die for you, too. That's just the way it is, okay?
I know it sounds melodramatic, but it's the simple truth."
I picked up my books again and set off at a slower pace. Alex
matched my stride and glanced over at my face several times.
Finally, she took my arm and squeezed it possessively.
"I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't know. It scares me a little,
that you feel so intensely, but it feels good, too. It makes me
feel secure."
I smiled back at her. Now she understood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Subject: Siblings: Chapter 6
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
OPENING MOVES
Alex made the freshman swimming team when she was 14. So had
I, the previous year, and now I was on the 10th Grade boy's team;
I was proud of my little sister and pleased that we would both be
on the "jock bus" to out-of-town interscholastic meets.
I had discovered already that I simply wasn't designed
physically or mentally to be a participant in what nonswimmers
regarded as "real" sports, like football or basketball. You had to
force yourself to become a cog in a machine and that wasn't for me.
Swimming and track, though, where you did most of your
practicing alone, were a different kind of athletics. Competing
against other individuals, head-to-head, or against your own
previous best effort, was much more enjoyable. At least, it suited
me and it seemed to suit Alex, and we both became steady performers
in both sports.
To our coaches, people like us were the "backbones of the team":
not many First Place ribbons, but always well up in the standings.
Neither Alex nor I would ever qualify for a college athletic
scholarship -- I think we simply lacked the bloodlust that level of
competitiveness demands -- but neither would we embarrass ourselves
or our teams.
Rather than the bulging calves and linebacker's shoulders that
many young swimmers develop, my sister acquired instead long, sleek
leg muscles and flat, rippling surfaces across her upper back. I
found the result very appealing ... but I was hardly an unbiased
observer. Many of the other girls, when they made the team, cut
their hair short as a sort of ritual of achievement, but Alex
refused to give up her coppery mane. Her body was developing in
all the best places, too. Her hips widened enough to hold up her
jeans and her waist narrowed; the baby fat disappeared quickly.
Daily training at the pool kept her stomach flat and taut, and her
bottom quivered nicely rather than bouncing.
Some girls at school possessed breasts that practically exploded
into 'boobs' -- double-A to C- or D-cup in a semester or less.
They became very popular dates with the more mammary-minded boys.
I had several opportunities myself to squeeze, suck, and wallow
between pairs of hyperdeveloped tits, and it was definitely a
stimulating experience -- but I suspected even then that such
accessories would require mechanical support before many more years
passed. I also learned the truth of the old wisecrack: "Any more
than you can get in your mouth at one time is wasted."
Like all the rest of her, I regarded my sister's breasts to be
near-perfect -- the standard beside which all others should be
judged. She had barely enough silhouette to be considered sexy by
the unimaginative, but even though her bust line was relatively
small, it remained firm as the result of regular exercise. Her
breasts rode high and proud on her torso and they never, ever
sagged. Whether she lay on her back or stood up straight with her
shoulders braced, her tits hardly changed their shallow conical
shape. And each was crowned by a frequently erect nipple, as
prominent as a watchtower on a hilltop.
By today's social standards, my opinion of what constitutes
physical attractiveness in a woman may be considered sexist, but I
claim a neo-Platonic view of the aesthetic ideal -- and Alex at 14
fit that ideal as perfectly as I could wish.
* * * * *
Our physical relationship also began to change shortly after we
turned 15 and 14. About the same time I was learning the
techniques of successful masturbation, I became aware that Alex had
embarked on her own journey of discovery. This came as a surprise,
though I realized immediately that it shouldn't have. It simply
hadn't occurred to me that a girl was perfectly capable of enjoying
sex all by herself.
I'm amazed I was so blind. On several occasions I found my
sister sitting barefoot on the kitchen chair in her room, one foot
tucked comfortably beneath her, the other swinging slowly to and
fro. The nail polish or emery board in her hand was forgotten and
her slightly glazed eyes had a faraway look. If I interrupted her,
she blinked and that was that, but on one occasion I stopped in the
hall and watched in fascination. The foot-rocking continued for
several minutes and her gaze became more and more unfocused until
finally the foot stopped and she let out a deep sigh. Then she
blinked several times and licked her lips, and seemed to return
from wherever she had been. She looked up and saw me in the hall,
and ducked her head. Her ears turned pink but I somehow knew not
to ask, and she volunteered nothing.
Bladder pressure forced me out of bed early one Sunday morning,
and as I headed sleepily back from the bathroom I paused in the
hallway at the sound of my sister's bed creaking rhythmically. My
own bed made the same sound when I jerked off, so it certainly
caught my attention. I edged down the hall, keeping to the shadows
of the far wall, until I could see Alex's bed through the half-open
door. And I stood silently and watched her bring herself off,
mesmerized by the sight, pounded by guilt for peeking, and totally
unable to move.
Her sleeping shirt was up around her midriff and her white
cotton panties were pushed down just far enough to allow a downy
red curl to escape. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open, and
her breathing was becoming louder. One arm was thrust behind her
pillow. Her other hand was out of sight under the cotton and her
fingers were moving in a complicated pattern. Her long legs were
stretched out, ankles crossed, and her calf and thigh muscles
flexed and fluttered. I imagined her finger moving up and down her
pussy, and I began to sweat.
Then her lovely legs bent at the knee and her feet rose slowly
until her curled toes were pointed at the ceiling. I could see the
outline of her finger moving jerkily beneath the now-exposed crotch
of her panties. I found the vision of her heated body being stoked
even further incredibly arousing.
After a few minutes, she lowered her legs again and this time
spread her bent knees. The cotton crotch was a vertical white band
separating her smooth thighs. Her hand continued to move, but now
she pushed the cloth aside and attacked her pussy with a cupped
hand. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she sucked
air in and hissed it out. Her lips curled back slightly and her
hand flashed ever faster before she sighed deeply and seemed to
sink into her mattress. Her legs relaxed and a satisfied smile
crept over her face. She gradually extricated her hand and flexed
her fingers as if to remove a cramp. She hesitated and then
brought her fingers to her face and inhaled. The aroma was
perceptible even out in the hall. My cock had been pushing hard
against the front of my briefs for several minutes, and when Alex
slipped her fingers into her mouth and silently sucked them dry, I
nearly came myself.
As she turned over on her side and pulled the covers back up, I
moved slowly and carefully back to my own bed. I lay there for an
hour, replaying the vision over and over. And when my sister
finally wandered into my room and ruffled my hair to awaken me, I
felt a nearly overwhelming desire to grab her hand and suck on her
fingers myself.
* * * * *
Dad was gone on one of his trips just before Christmas and the
winter cold had exacerbated Mother's arthritis. She was holed up
in the downstairs bedroom and Alex and I had the Upstairs all to
ourselves, as usual. The heat wasn't working properly in Alex's
room for some reason, and she came into my room with a quilt
gathered around her. I was sitting up, half under the covers,
reading.
"Can I stay in here with you tonight?" She was shivering. I
was comfortable, even a little too warm. My internal thermostat
always was set a little higher than hers.
"Why don't you wear your flannel thing?" She grimaced and
shifted from one bare foot to the other.
Under the quilt, I knew she was probably wearing only a tee
shirt; even though she chilled easily at that age, she hated
sleeping in anything that twisted around her like a mummy's
wrappings. There we agreed: I usually slept in my briefs, not
pajamas with a top.
"Sure, why not?" I scooted over a bit and hauled back the
comforter.
She crossed the room in two quick, deer-like leaps, shedding the
quilt on the way, and slid quickly under the covers. I was right:
One of my old tee shirts clipped off at navel-length, and cotton
panties. She immediately drew up her knees in a cannonball and
hiked the comforter up under her chin.
"Thanks! I was getting frost between my toes!"
I radiate a lot of body heat at night and she inched over a
little at a time until she was snugged up against my left side, her
nose tickling my ribs. She sighed contentedly. And a quarter of
an hour passed.
We had cozied up in bed together dozens of times in the past,
sometimes when it was cold, or to swap giggling gossip from school,
or sometimes just for company. We enjoyed being together more than
being alone most of the time, even when we were each silently
engrossed in our separate thoughts. But now, for the first time
that I can remember, I forgot the book I was reading and my
imagination suddenly snapped into focus on Alex.
I was still holding the book but on the movie screen in my head
all I saw was a still shot of her in mid-leap on her way to the
bed, long legs outstretched, tee shirt flipped up by the movement,
already nicely-shaped breasts in momentary free flight beneath the
cotton. Jesus. My cock twitched as I studied the picture.
I knew my sister had an attractive body -- not that I thought of
it that way consciously, not yet. What experience of my own did I
have to compare her body to? Almost absolutely none. And here my
penis was getting the better of me. I had been masturbating for
two years, usually to the throb of my imagination, sometimes with
the help of a smuggled PLAYBOY. I had even been known, when
desperate, to beat off to the lingerie section in the Sears
catalog. Recently, I had been replaying in my mind the vision of
her masturbating in the early morning ... but somehow, I thought of
her in that scene as "girl," not specifically as "Alex."
Part of my brain, the intelligent part, tried to get my
attention. What was I thinking about here? Was I going to try to
put the make on my own sister? I loved her, I really did. And I
knew without a doubt that she loved me, too. We had understood
that, without actually saying it, since the street fight when she
was 11. If I became a sister-rapist, I thought wildly, I would
have to commit suicide.
While I was thinking these sudden new thoughts, my left hand
detached itself from the book of its own accord and slipped under
the covers, heading straight for Alex's left breast, the only one
accessible. She had dozed off now, her breathing light and
regular, almost hypnotic. My thumb began to brush her nipple
through the thin cloth of her shirt. After a moment she shifted
her arm slightly and sighed. I found I now had better access to my
target. She was asleep but her nipple sure wasn't. It slowly rose
an eighth of an inch to reach for my slowly moving thumb.
I saw a tree branch move in the cold wind outside the window and
glanced up. When I looked back a second later at what my thumb was
doing, Alex's eyes were half-open and a sleepy smile moved around
the edges of her lips. I froze. After an hour-long moment she
moved a tiny bit, rubbing her breast against my thumb this time.
"Don' stop ... 't feels good," she murmured.
Wow. She moved her breast again. She seemed to mean it, at
least here and now, but did she really know what she was doing?
Maybe she just thought she was dreaming. I remembered her
embarrassment when I had walked in on her masturbating a couple
months before. She had joked about it later. But did I really
want to take a chance with this? Would she scream at me for taking
advantage of her after she awoke and remembered? Was I analyzing
too much and losing this opportunity?
Objectively and rationally, I knew I ought to stop (and if she
ever mentioned this evening I would lie, let her think she *had*
dreamed it), but my more basic drives beat that thought down and
killed it. All teenage boys have experiences with girls in which
their gonads overrule their better judgment, and they end up
embarrassed, or ashamed, or even in real trouble. I understood
that even then, sitting there in bed trying desperately to make out
with my sister.
Subjectively? I had no choice but to continue, and I knew that,
too. I brought my first and second fingers into play and began
tracing slow, easy patterns around the base of the nipple, which
was now hard and firm. I plucked gently at it, trying to make it
grow even more, and Alex drew a deeper, more ragged breath. Her
obvious arousal was also arousing me.
I adjusted my pillow with my unoccupied hand and scooted down
under the covers, face to face with Alex. She uncoiled and
stretched out her legs, which were as long as mine. (Girls grow
faster, they said. Boy, did they ever.) The bed was toasty warm
by now from the body heat we were both beginning to produce.
I looked into her lovely, heavy-lidded eyes and smiled what I
hoped was a seductive smile. I felt one leg move again and her
kneecap touched mine. My hand had begun to tremble a little so I
moved it carefully down between our torsos and then slowly up under
her shirt, gliding my fingertips up the rungs of her rib cage. Her
breast was just the size of my hand and I began to caress it,
taking care to be gentle and slow. I might be beyond control, but
I wasn't going to just grab and squeeze, the way I had seen guys do
with girls under the stands at school. I don't want to hurt her,
I thought. I also don't want to scare her, because she might make
me stop.
And as I thought that, she brought her hands up flat on my chest
and firmly pushed herself back from me. Hell, I thought, I messed
it up. Or she's suddenly come awake and realized what's happening.
But that wasn't it at all.
Instead, she propped herself up on her elbow, her long hair
falling across her face, and tugged one arm out of the sleeve of
her tee shirt. Then it went over her head and she lay back, slipped
out her other arm, and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. She
looked over at me and smiled lazily again. She had to be fully
awake she wanted to pretend she wasn't. That way, she didn't have
to take responsibility for what was happening.
I didn't understand all this at the time, of course. I was up
on my elbow, gazing at her breasts and face and hair, and thinking
in wonderment how really beautiful and desirable my sister was.
Neither of us ever tanned much and there was an obvious flush
spreading down her pale, freckled collarbone. These aren't "tits"
or "boobs," I remember thinking; these are the genuine thing.
Things.
I hesitated another moment. It was like a jerk-off fantasy.
She took my hand and carried it to her left breast. When she lay
on her back, it had flattened out some but her nipple stood up like
a tiny missile. Her breastbone moved slowly up and down. I
covered her breast with my hand, which began moving in circular
motions, apparently knowing what it wanted more clearly than the
rest of me did. Except for my cock, which was searching for the
opening in the front of my briefs.
My propped-up arm was quivering with tension so I lay back down
on my side and continued rhythmically kneading and massaging one
breast. But there was another one that wanted attention, too, so
I leaned over and put out the flat of my tongue and dragged it
across her other nipple. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her
eyelids flutter and her lips part. That removed the last bit of
guilt I felt; we were sharing this experience now.
I sucked at her nipple and tasted the texture of its resilience
and Alex made a sucking sound in reply. Her left hand was jammed
behind her pillow and her right hand had wrapped itself half around
my neck and over the top of my head. Her fingers tugged lightly at
my hair in syncopation to what my mouth was doing.
I loved Alex so much at that moment, in so many different ways,
I knew I had to kiss her immediately. That was what you did with
someone you loved. Or someone you were making out with. My
motives were confused but my feelings were real enough.
I gripped her arms and shoulders and pulled her off the pillow
so we could stare into each other's eyes. I had never seen passion
or sexual hunger in a girl's eyes before -- I had never seen it
anywhere -- but I recognized it instinctively. Her arms circled my
neck and pulled me back down, and she made that little noise in her
throat again. When our lips touched, there was an actual, physical
shock, a spark. The emotional pressure almost made our teeth click
together. I put out my tongue a little and hers attacked it. In
ten seconds we were slobbering all over each other's faces, both of
us moaning together. I wasn't 16 yet but I was in love. That was
all that mattered.
My left arm was under her shoulders while I stabbed kisses up
and down the front of her throat, but my other hand was feeling
left out. I don't think I knew where it was as it traveled
confidently down Alex's diaphragm and across her flat, trembling
stomach. But the instant my fingers reached her navel, her hand
shot southward like lightning and grabbed them.
"No, Michael. No further than that -- please."
I lifted my head and looked at her face, a little bewildered.
No what? Then I realized my hand was pinned firmly by hers, my
middle finger stroking her belly-button. Oh.
"Okay," I said hoarsely. What else was I going to say? I moved
my hand back up along her side, buried my face in her neck, and
hugged her to me.
Looking back, I marvel at my restraint, my self-control. The
animal was loose, I knew that, and partly I didn't care -- but my
better side managed to keep it on a choke chain. If my hand had
reached its objective unobstructed, I'm not sure what I could have
done about it, that night anyway. Just as well it didn't happen.
I loved Alex, I knew she loved me, and I was happy.
A little while later we drifted off, our arms wrapped around
each other. We moved back to our own pillows during the night,
still asleep, but I believe we slept facing each other the entire
night, and when we awoke in the morning we were still holding
hands. Alex smiled at me briefly but intensely and gave me a
lingering kiss on the lips before her practical side took over.
"We'll be late for school!"
She scooted out of bed and bent quickly to pick up her tee
shirt, which had fallen to the floor. Gravity did a marvelous
thing to her small breasts as she bent. In profile, each formed a
perfect shallow arc punctuated by a nipple. Another astounding
image for my mental projection screen. Then she was out the door,
headed for the bathroom, her bottom moving tightly beneath the
cotton, always in control. I lay there another moment and replayed
the marvel of the night just ended. This was the girl I wanted to
spend all my time with and she was already right here with me ...
and now there were whole new dimensions to that thought. I grinned
idiotically at the ceiling.
* * * * *
Late one night a month or so later, I was lying in bed late,
reading a book I couldn't put down. As I turned a page, I heard a
low, smothered moan from across the hall. My sister's door was
half-open, as usual (as was mine), but her light was out. I heard
the sound again and wondered what the matter was. Maybe Alex was
ill. The obvious conclusion escaped me completely (I could be
incredibly dense at that age).
Still thinking about the story I was reading, I got out of bed
and went across to check on her; I knew she had been experiencing
painful menstrual periods lately and I felt especially helpless
about such things. Leaving my door open to spill a little light, I
opened her door all the way and paused while my eyes adjusted. She
seemed to be asleep, or at least her eyes were closed. She made an
odd whimpering sound and moved her head from side to side. Her
covers were wadded up around her waist and her hands were out of
sight. I stepped over to the bed where she was tossing, and
touched her shoulder. Still dense as I stone, I was.
"Alex?" I asked quietly. "Are you all right?"
Her eyes and her mouth both popped open, startled, and she
pulled up the covers a few inches. Then she lay very still.
"Uh, yeah, I'm okay. Why? What's the matter?" Even in the dim
light, I could see how flushed her face was.
"Well, I heard all these strange sounds..." It was beginning to
dawn on me that this was a repeat of my recent experience. I knew
I should be embarrassed, but instead I was very interested.
Fascinated, in fact. I took a chance and sat on the edge of her
bed. My sister began to squirm.
"Alex, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were ... I mean, I
thought you...." Now *I* was becoming embarrassed.
There was a glow in her eyes that I was coming to recognize as
sexual arousal. And my sister, once aroused, was not to be denied.
She licked her lips several times and seemed to be making up her
mind. Then she stared straight into my eyes.
"I was ... I was feeling myself up. Masturbating," she added
slowly. "Does that ... does that make you horny?"
My God, did it ever! Just hearing her talk like that raised my
temperature. My mouth went dry and my tongue swelled up. I could
only nod slowly. Alex hesitated and licked her lips again. Then,
still keeping strong eye contact, she began moving her hand beneath
the covers again.
This wasn't like the casual exposure she had offered me the
first time I watched her change her tampon. It wasn't even like
watching her from the hall without her knowledge. This was sex.
Nonparticipatory, but still sex. I stared back with my jaw hanging
loosely and watched her pupils dilate. Finally, I could take no
more of the mounting tension. Very carefully, with both hands, I
pulled Alex's covers down to her knees. She knew it was going to
happen and she didn't flinch.
Her panties were halfway down her slightly parted thighs and her
tee-shirt was pushed up to her ribs. The blazing center of her
body lay before me, her pubic mound crowning it like a bonfire. I
couldn't take my eyes off her crotch. Her middle finger was lodged
in the crevice below her silky pubic hair, sliding deliberately up
and down between the folds of inviting flesh. Her other hand was
stroking the edge of her labia. On each upstroke her cunt opened
just a bit and the dim light glistened on the hidden moistness. I
glanced at her face, expecting her eyes to be closed; she was still
staring at me, smokily, with a crooked smile.
Then her gaze moved down my body to my groin, and I looked down,
too. My engorged cock was visibly pulsing and it felt four feet
long. I had no idea what to do, but Alex did.
"I want to see it," she whispered hoarsely.
This time, I didn't hesitate. I reached under the elastic and
carefully lifted out my genitals, balls and all. I had to stretch
the front of my briefs to get the elastic down out of the way. I
cradled my penis in my open hand, so that it seemed to be staring
back at her. Her hands paused in their movement and, just for a
second, I thought she was going to reach out and touch it.
Instead, she looked back into my eyes.
"Do it," she said quietly. "Do it with me." I must have looked
blank. "Lie down and jerk off with me," she repeated more
insistently. "I know you masturbate. I want to watch, and you can
watch me. If we do it together, it'll be almost... almost
like...." She didn't have to finish.
She scooted over a few inches and rotated partway onto one hip,
spreading her thighs farther apart and pushing her pelvis forward.
As I quickly lay down next to her, she added urgently, "Don't
touch, though -- not tonight. Okay?"
I nodded and squeezed the head of my cock. I wouldn't have to
hurry to catch up. In fact, I was afraid I'd shoot off the moment
I touched the unguided missile that loomed less than a foot from
where her busy fingertips were plucking lightly at her clit.
Coming too quickly, I thought, would make me look like an idiot.
It also might cut short my visit to Alex's bed.
I started out leaning on my elbow, but that quickly became
uncomfortable so I put my head on her pillow and slid my other arm
under it. Alex raised her head to allow my arm passage, and lay
down again, closer to me than she had been. I took that as an
invitation, outside of the admonition not to touch, and I moved my
head closer to hers.
I began to stroke my cock like a piston and my movements were
quickly synchronized with hers. She gazed into my eyes for another
moment, then moved her head the last couple of inches and kissed my
lightly on the lips. I responded with a gentle pressure of my own,
and her sweet-tasting little tongue raced across my front teeth.
Our lips barely touching, her tongue sparred wetly with mine. When
she exhaled, I inhaled, and vice versa, sharing the same breath
several times, back and forth, until all the oxygen in it was gone.
Our mouths were fulfilling the lust both of us felt but were afraid
to give in to.
As my right hand moved up and down my cock, trying desperately
to postpone my climax by a few more minutes, I was acutely aware of
its nearness to my sister's radiant cunt. I would have expected,
in such a position, an uncontrollable urge to sweep her hands out
of the way and push myself into her. But in the event, that wasn't
a problem. I didn't yet know quite how all that stuff was supposed
to be done, but I did know I would climax instantly if I tried such
a thing. And, somehow, I knew it was best that our bodies and our
minds progress through each lesson in turn, one at a time. There
was no hurry and I didn't want to spoil things. Besides, Alex had
asked me not to, and we always played fair with each other. There
was gentle passion in her kiss, willingly given, and that would be
the limit for tonight. I only made this rational analysis in later
weeks, of course. At the time, my responses and self-imposed
limitations were instinctive.
We looked into each other's eyes and I could see what she really
wanted, deep inside, but was far too nervous to try yet. And she
could see in my eyes that this was all the fulfillment I needed,
for now. The fact that we could even *do* this was a result of the
strong and implicit trust between us.
Her hand speeded up and her breath was gasping. I just tried to
match her pace. A few moments later, she kissed me with greater
force as her orgasm rolled over her, and those two events set me
off. At the last instant, I realized I was going to make a mess of
either her or her bed. I was a little afraid that the former would
put her off completely; the latter would certainly be uncomfortable
when she finally went to sleep. So, a half-second before I came, I
was able to yank my briefs back up and drown my pubic hair in
semen.
I don't think Alex was even aware of my actions, she was so
transported herself. When our kiss tapered off, she removed her
fingers from her cunt and, with a mischievous grin, slid them under
my nose. The aroma was enticing and I think I surprised her by
fulfilling my earlier fantasy -- capturing her fingers in my mouth
and sucking all the wetness from them. The taste was exquisite.
She put her legs down and readjusted her tee shirt and her panties.
Then we kissed again, both of us longing for more, but held back by
nervousness and perhaps a little common sense.
"Michael," she finally said huskily, "I think you'd better go
back to bed before I climb all over you!"
I regretfully climbed out of her bed and headed back to my room,
but I paused at her door and looked back to where she lay watching
me. Her fond smile stayed with me the rest of the night.
* * * * *
Five days after our mutual exhibition, I went to bed on Friday
night by myself. I normally slept in an extra hour or so on
Saturdays, but that night I had some strange and erotic dreams and
woke at 5:30. I didn't remember the details of the dreams, but I
came to lying on my side with a throbbing hard-on. I also had
company: my sister was snuggled up to me, a love spoon, and my
engorged cock was prodding the back of her upper thigh through my
briefs. I wondered foggily what kind of dreams *she* must be
having.
I was still half asleep. I put one arm over Alex's warm body
and she wriggled closer against me without waking. It gradually
dawned on me that she wasn't wearing a top. In fact, she had
unconsciously taken my hand in hers and hugged it against her
breast. That made me feel relaxed and secure, at first, and I
kissed her bare shoulder, which was all that showed above the
cover. But as she breathed, snoring very softly, the movement
rubbed her nipple against the palm of my hand. I began rubbing
gently in the opposite direction, and both nipples were soon erect.
Mine, too.
She shifted the position of her legs several times and murmured
under her breath. Finally, she rolled onto her back, tucked her
left arm under the pillow, and half-opened her eyes.
"'Lo..." was all she could manage, followed by a warm, drowsy
smile. My hand had traveled onto her stomach. Her free hand moved
a few inches and absently stroked my cheek and gave my arm a
squeeze. Then it, too, disappeared under the pillow behind her
head. She seemed to doze off again.
Stretched out at slender full length, arms above her head like
that, hair sprawled across my pillow, sleeping so peacefully -- she
was a striking image of young, feminine vulnerability. I turned
back the cover very carefully, trying not to disturb her further.
My beautiful little sister, I thought with longing. Shallow,
mounded breasts, rising and falling with her respiration. Her
arms, curving smoothly and cleanly to her rib cage and then to her
small waist. Her flat stomach, punctuated by her navel, hip bones
flaring gracefully to either side of her brief white panties. One
leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee, the sole of one foot
braced neatly against the opposite calf. From above, she looked
like a ballerina performing a pirouette.
I reached out and stroked her thigh, the way I would pet a
kitten or any other small animal that looked like it wanted
attention. When I came to the top of her thigh, without conscious
decision (though it had been in my mind all week), my hand
continued upward and hovered over the vee at the crotch of her
panties. I could stand it no longer. I cupped my hand gently,
lightly, over her resilient pubic mound, my first two fingers
sliding down between her legs where I felt the springy depression
of her vulva. I clutched her pussy a bit more firmly and began to
move my fingers up and down the crease in the white cotton. Her
head moved restlessly to one side and she made small smacking
sounds with her lips. I continued moving my fingers, searching for
the little button I knew was there.
Alex's hip shifted closer to me and her eyes fluttered open
again for a few seconds as she stretch her legs out straight and
gave a tiny shiver.
"Take 'em off...," she muttered, and her eyelids slid shut
again.
I moved carefully off the side of the bed, making as little
disturbance as possible, and hastily pushed off my briefs. My cock
sprang up at a steep angle. Then I leaned over and, with both
hands, began slowly pulling down my sister's panties. Her legs
were a few inches apart, but otherwise she made no move to help.
I had to gradually work the rolled-up fabric under her ass by
sliding it down on one side and then on the other.
The program seemed to be the same as the week before. I didn't
know whether she was completely asleep, half-awake and aware of
what I was doing, or just faking. But it was clear that this next
step on the ladder of our physical relationship was to be *my*
responsibility -- which I was very willing to accept. I was also
convinced, after the previous week, that if I attempted to cross
some invisible boundary, Alex would wake immediately, so I didn't
worry about it. I would peruse this marvel before me until one of
us decided to stop.
I slipped her panties over her feet and tossed them on the
floor. My sister lay naked before me, apparent willing for me to
drink in her loveliness, and also ready to take the next step in
our sexual awakening. I lay down again on my side next to her and
caressed the curve of her hip and the flatness of her abdomen. I
threaded my fingers through her soft red pubic thatch and gently
cupped my hand again over the mound beneath it.
I didn't know much about foreplay, but I knew there was no hurry
and that I should be ever gentle as I explored every inch of her
with my hands. I also knew instinctively that if I just yanked her
legs wide apart, climbed on, and tried to cram my cock into her, it
would break our unspoken agreement; it might even spoil it forever.
Her cunt was becoming more moist every second and I easily slid
my fingers along the sides of her clitoral sheath. Slowly, slowly.
She began to make humming, purring sounds and her legs twitched
farther apart. I rubbed one finger over the dewy tip of her clit
and this time her whole body twitched. So did my cock.
I slid my forefinger into her open vagina, trying to fathom the
whole length of that warm, tight tunnel. I reached her cervix
without much difficulty and added a second finger. It felt rubbery
when I squeezed it between my fingertips, different from what I had
expected. I wasn't sure she could feel anything there herself,
except the finger pressure, but I suppose it's something every guy
tries. I would have put my whole arm into her and climbed in after
it, had it been possible.
I had groped blindly at a couple of other girls, but on those
occasions I could never see what I was doing and I had always felt
rushed by the circumstances. This time, I had a clear view and all
the time I needed.
What was more, Alex understood that need. She was hesitant
about our increasing physical involvement, as I was, but she
trusted me to proceed slowly and to take care of her. And because
she trusted me so completely, I knew I would follow the same plan,
taking my time, backing off if she got nervous, and giving her
anything and everything she needed in return. This understanding
between us was one of the things that brought us to realize that we
were in love.
We never "fell" in love, I think, even when we kissed that first
time at the park. It always existed, and it grew steadily as we
explored it and came to understand its nature.
I had been watching my fingers, but now I glanced at Alex's
face. Her long eyelashes were fluttering slowly like peacock fans
and her moist lips were parted. Her arms were still behind the
pillow but now she clutched at it with both hands. Either she was
really waking up or she thought she was having one hell of a dream.
My right hand returned to her clit, now glistening in the early
morning light. I began tracing slow circles around the little pink
bullet head, breaking rhythm every few seconds and flicking a
finger across its tip. As I increased the tempo, her thighs began
making little jerky movements. She was on the up-side of the
roller coaster, but I didn't want her to climax yet. I didn't want
it to be over. So I slowed and then stopped, moving the flat of my
hand back over her stomach and across her ribs to brush her
stiffened nipple. She trembled at that and seemed about to tear
the pillow in two. My hand moved to the smooth hollow under her
arm and trailed over her bicep. She continued breathing heavily.
"God, don't stop! Why did you stop? Oh, God, that felt so
wonderful!" This was accompanied by a soft wailing moan of
desperation. Her eyes finally opened.
"Michael, I want your finger back in me! It felt so good --
I've never felt like that, even doing it myself! And I didn't come
yet!"
I leaned over her body on my elbows, trapping her arms in their
extended position, and cut off her protests with a smothering kiss.
"Alex, I'm selfish -- I don't *want* you to come yet. But I'm not
ready to quit either. Can I try something else...?
Her expression went instantly serious. "Michael,... please, I'm
not ready to fuck yet. I *want* to -- oh, God, I want to! -- but
not yet. Please don't." Her voice was soft and calm but her face
kept shifting between adolescent lust and fear of the unknown. But
she misunderstood my intentions.
"I'm not going to push you beyond where you want to go. Don't
you know that by now? I love you, Alex. I would never -- COULD
never -- hurt you like that. You trust me, I know you do, and I
will never do anything to made you regret that -- I promise." I
kissed her again, softly this time. "No, I had something else in
mind. And I think you'll like it, too...."
As I spoke, I was moving farther down the bed and farther down
her perfect body, leaving a trail of lip prints on her throat,
between her breasts, just below her rib cage, to her navel and past
it. My hands kept pace, gliding down her sides and her hips and
coming to rest clasping her flanks. Her stomach muscles fluttered
and she inhaled deeply when I buried my face in her pubic hair.
Her legs parted and as her knees bent, I wrapped my hands around
her thighs and pressed them open even farther. I had attempted
muff-diving a couple of times with other girls, but always under
uncomfortable and hurried circumstances. So I had a theoretical
grasp of the subject, but I was mostly making up my technique as I
went along. But I was sure it was Alex's first time, too, so I
didn't think it would matter.
Her cunt was already humid with the aroma of sex. Her thigh
muscles were tensed; she didn't quite know what to expect.
Experimentally, I nuzzled her clit and pushed my tongue along the
opening below it, where my fingers had been shortly before.
I had been warned by the Boy's Gym Information Exchange to
expect a "fishy" taste, but I found nothing of the kind. The
moisture I lapped up smelled and tasted of heated honey and
licorice, a heady flavor I enjoyed enormously.
My tongue worked its way down to the bottom edge of her vagina,
eased between the silky smooth lips, and made the long, slow
journey back to the top. The juices I caught flooded my probing
tongue and trickled down my throat.
I heard a distant, sighing moan as Alex thrust her pelvis up
toward my mouth. I felt her fingers tentatively touch my head and
then slide more confidently through my hair. When I stabbed
lightly at the tip of her clitoris, it twitched and her fingers
clutched at my scalp. I licked all around the little red bullet,
pushing back the sheath with my tongue, then sucking hard at it,
pressing its tip against my teeth.
Alex was trembling, from her hands on my head urging me on, to
the clenching of her ass, to the spreading and curling of her toes.
Her profound arousal, in fact, was having a similar effect on me.
I was lying flat on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, and my
cock felt like a length of iron pipe under me.
I paused, to shift my hands and wipe my lips, and Alex tugged
nervously at my hair. "God, Michael, don't stop! You're making me
crazy!"
I laughed silently, opened my mouth wide, and covered as much of
her crotch as I could. Then I exhaled heavily, blanketing her cunt
with warm air. She shivered and moaned loudly, and then began to
push her right hand past my head so she could masturbate. I
intercepted the hand and moved it away.
"No, Alex, let me do this.... I love it, I love making you hot
and horny, and I love the taste of you! I'm going to do this all
by myself." I spread her dripping labia with my fingers and
licked their inner surfaces. My tongue stroked the creases at the
top of her thighs and lunged as far as it could reach into the
depths of her. It swiped like a brush up and down the smooth area
between her cunt and her asshole. After a moment's hesitation, I
licked the corrugated surface around her anus and tapped my tongue
against the hole. I couldn't tell whether she actually flinched or
merely jerked in a uncontrollable spasm, but I decided to return to
known territory for now.
My sister was panting in a shallow, jerky rhythm and her hands
were holding her knees up and apart. Her knuckles were white from
tension. I settled in to work on her swollen clitoris, to push her
over the top to her climax. My tongue swirled around her sexual
centerpoint and she began uttering shrill little sounds at the end
of each breath.
I sucked her clit into my mouth again and flicked my tongue
against it, faster and faster. Now her body was jerking
continually. Finally, without forethought, I very lightly nipped
the end of her clit between my teeth -- and that did it.
Alex went rigid for a few seconds, except for a hissing intake
of breath, and I felt her pelvis and thigh muscles tighten. The
deep breath paused a long moment and became an even deeper sigh.
Her cunt quivered and fresh vaginal juices, thick and sweet,
dribbled down my chin. I slowed my pace to a lazy swirl and Alex
jerked a little each time I touched her clit, which was now
retreating into its sheath. Then I ceased my exertions and closed
her legs and lowered her knees.
I gripped her hips and planted a lingering kiss at the bottom of
that silky red triangle, and then laid my cheek on her thigh. I
was worn out and my neck and shoulders were stiff, but I felt
wonderful about the orgasm my sister had just experienced because
of me.
Alex's hand stroked my temple and I swiveled my head to look up
at her face. Her lovely green eyes were glowing with soft
starlight and her face held both wonder and love.
"Michael...?" she whispered huskily. "C'mere...."
I got shakily to my knees and crawled the few feet to the pillow
and let my head fall back on its coolness. Alex turned on her
side, levered herself over to plant her elbows on either side of
me, and slid her forearms under my shoulders. Her face was
suspended above mine -- my sun and my moon, I thought -- and her
trembling smile was so warm I felt like melting butter. She came
slowly closer and kissed me thoroughly, running her tongue over my
lips and eyelids, and finally fixing me with a steady gaze from two
inches away. I stroked her back lightly.
"That's the first time," she breathed.
Not it's not, I thought. She's had orgasms before, I know she
has. But she read my expression.
"It's the first time anyone but *me* has done that to me. And
it was wonderful! I want you to make love to me, Michael, I want
to go all the way with you. I thought I did before, and now I'm
absolutely sure of it -- and it will happen, I promise.
"You could have done it tonight, you know; I couldn't have
stopped you. I wouldn't have wanted you to stop, I was off on
another world somewhere. But you didn't, and I love you so much
for that! I DO love you, Michael -- do you understand? I know
we're young and everything, but I also know I'll never feel about
anyone else the way I do about you. I don't even have the words
for it, except to just keep saying it over and over: I love you,
Michael, I love you with all my heart." She blinked back tears.
I was near tears myself. Her beautiful face was so filled with
fourteen-year-old conviction, I could only believe she meant what
she said. And I was only a year older and I felt the same absolute
love for her, so I *wanted* to believe it, desperately. I wrapped
my arms about her as she clutched my shoulders.
"Nothing and no one will ever separate us," I said softly.
"We'll be together forever, or as long as we both want to be.
Alex, you know I love you so much I can hardly stand it."
And each of us, I knew, was wondering what the future held,
thinking how we would have to struggle against a world that
wouldn't understand. We hugged each other more tightly.
* * * * *
It was Fourth of July weekend. We felt older, I think -- and
we certainly were maturing more rapidly than most teenagers,
because we had each other to practice with.
Some things had changed in the few months since our first sexual
contact. For one thing, I was sleeping naked these days and Alex
wore only bikini panties. Neither of us had any sense of modesty
at all in each other's presence. I could walk into the bathroom
while she was taking a bath and she wouldn't bat an eye; in fact,
she watched with interest while I took a leak. Then she would come
into my room naked and sit on the bed and talk while she dried her
hair. At first, it was constantly exciting and distracting. Now,
the excitement hadn't gone, but it remained at a comfortable level,
even while we observed each other's continuing physical
development.
We were becoming physically used to each other, though never
bored. And while I often caressed her breasts and her upper body,
and stroked her thighs and her buttocks when she rolled over on her
stomach, I never attempted to get closer than a few inches from her
pussy. Nor did she ever reach for my cock.
My sister had cuddled up close to me and fallen asleep while I
read late again. I was beginning to doze off, too, and I turned my
head sleepily to look at her before I doused the reading lamp.
She lay on her side in the crook of my arm, her head on my
shoulder and her thick hair spread across the pillow. One arm and
one leg were pressed up close against my side while the others were
flung across me, half pinning my body to the bed. Her limbs were
still as long as mine, though more slender, and every time she
twitched in her sleep or shifted position slightly I felt the
movement reverberate all through me.
I was acquainted with plenty of girls at school now, and had
survived crushes on several of them -- to Alex's amusement. All of
them were generally considered "cute" or "pretty," but none of them
even came close to my beautiful little sister, who was no longer so
little.
I finally cut the light, settled the pillow behind my head, and
fell asleep thinking of Alex. And apparently those thoughts
produced a midnight erection. Alex awoke in the night, for
whatever reason, and discovered the tent that my cock had formed
under the sheets. She told me later that she was fascinated by my
penis, had been for years, because it seemed to have a life and a
will of its own. And since I was asleep, she felt at liberty to
experiment and explore.
Her attentions brought me up out of the deeps into that fuzzy
region where sleep and wakefulness are confused, where you can
imagine you're awake while actually dreaming that you imagine
you're awake. And in the night, external stimuli in such a state
can make you highly suggestible.
So I half-dreamed that a soft, slender hand was grasping the
shaft of my cock and moving slowly up and down. Then it paused and
a thumb passed curiously several times over its head, measuring its
contours and the opening at the tip. My cock twitched several
times at the provocation; I felt it and thought drowsily that this
was a very sexy dream.
Then the hand moved to the base of the column and I felt her
fingers sliding through and untangling my pubic hair -- for my
half-awake mind knew whose hand it was, dream or no dream. Her
touch was gentle but determined. She worked her way around to my
balls, and it is a measure of my trust in my sister that I didn't
even flinch. I needn't have worried anyway. My scrotum was
relaxed and loose in the warmth beneath the covers, and she
carefully scooped up the whole of it and seemed to weigh it in her
hand, manipulating my balls gently within their sac.
I heard her take a breath as she seemed to come to a decision,
and I was awake enough now to peer through my eyelashes. The touch
of Alex's hand disappeared for a few seconds and I saw it emerge
from under the covers and pause before her mouth. She cupped her
palm and quietly filled it with spit, and the hand disappeared
again from sight. An instant later I felt it, warm and wet now,
curled again around the shaft of my cock. I wondered absently if
she knew anything at all about technique.
Her hand moved up and down, slowly and gently at first, and she
interrupted her rhythm every few strokes to rub her palm over the
head of my cock. The pace gradually increased and she squeezed a
little more tightly now and then. Maybe it was instinctive for
her, too, but she definitely knew what she was doing. It felt
wonderful: When you masturbate yourself it's difficult for your
hand to come up with any surprises.
I remained quiet but I was wide awake now and beginning to
breath more rapidly. No point pretending to be asleep. I heard a
moan of pure pleasure come from deep in my own throat and Alex
glanced up quickly at my face. My arm was still around her and I
squeezed her shoulder and shifted toward her a bit and onto my hip.
My left hand slipped around and under her armpit to stroke her
breast. I smiled and nodded and she grinned back at me.
Now that I was awake, my sister wanted to see what was
happening, so she halted her exertions for an instant and threw
back the covers. My cock reached even more resolutely toward the
ceiling. It was just all too much for me and within another minute
I could feel my climax rapidly approaching. From the expression of
concentration on her face I knew she didn't realize what was about
to occur.
"I'm almost there," I murmured hoarsely.
Either she didn't hear or she didn't understand. I didn't want
to frighten or disgust her, but I sure didn't want her to stop,
either. A distant corner of my mind tried desperately to think how
to have it both ways, and then it was too late.
I gasped as I began to spasm and I would have rolled over flat
on my back, but Alex's grip on me prevented it. Several large gobs
of semen exploded in rapid succession from my cock as if from a
machine gun. One landed on her wrist, remaining connected to the
tip of my cock by a long white thread. Another hit her on the
collarbone and began to ooze down across her breast. A third shot
spread in its trajectory and landed on her chin and across her
lower lip.
Christ, I thought in dismay, she'll be so repelled she won't
ever touch me again. When I hesitantly looked at her face, though,
I saw no disgust -- just startlement and surprise. She touched her
little finger to the milky blob on her chin and withdrew it, as
though testing its sticky consistency. Then she curled her tongue
out and down and scooped most of the semen off her lip and into her
mouth, like a kitten lapping milk. For a moment, she had a faraway
look as she tasted my essence, and then swallowed it.
I realized that was what I really *wanted* her to do. I wanted
her to swallow my come. And then: WHY would I want a girl to do
something like that? It's an old, old puzzle. Certainly, the
great majority of men enjoy being the subject of skillful oral sex
(no surprise there). But every guy with whom I've ever discussed
this puzzle in the philosophy of sex admits to even greater erotic
pleasure when the woman not only allows him to come in her mouth
but swallows his load as well, and without making a face or a fuss.
Alex just smiled and said "No taste! Just a little salty."
Then she leaned across my chest, smearing the wad on her breast
across me -- I could feel the stickiness -- and kissed me firmly on
the mouth. I welcomed her tongue when she poked it between my
lips, as I had many times before, but this time Alex was playing
one of her erotic little jokes. She hadn't swallowed it all, and
I tasted the salty flavor of my own semen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted
elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are
reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Subject: Siblings: Chapter 7
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
PATTY
(fragment from a novel in progress)
One comfortably warm afternoon in October, I was taking a nap in
my room, having exhausted myself with several hours of freestyle
practice. There was no one else in the house, so the sound of the
front door opening and closing, followed by girlish giggles on the
stair, half woke me. Then some part of my brain registered that the
giggling was a conversation between two different voices and I came
fully awake, though some instinct kept me from moving. I recognized
the other voice as belonging to Patty Jensen, who was also on the
swimming team and was one of Alex's best girl friends. Patty was a
cute little blonde with large, blue, innocent eyes, a snub nose,
and a wide, sensuous mouth filled with very white teeth. Her pale,
wavy hair swung against the nape of her neck in a ponytail and she
tanned nicely. She was shorter than Alex by a couple of inches but
somewhat meatier (my unconsidered opinion before than afternoon);
she had been one of the first girls in Alex's class to buy a bra
because she actually needed it. Yet she was both a popular date and
well-liked by the other girls in her group -- no small achievement.
She seemed to be smitten with the idea of love and sex but was
still uneasy about the reality. She also exuded pheromones
uncontrollably and the reaction and attention of the boys who
wandered within range often bewildered her.
Alex ushered Patty into her room across the hall and gave her
door a halfhearted shove; it stood open a foot, but privacy was not
something we had ever taken seriously Upstairs. I lay on my bed in
my cutoffs, casually eavesdropping, until I picked up the words
"bikini" and "sexy." What in the world was going on? I rose
quietly, silently opened my own door, and slipped into the hall. In
ordinary circumstances, I wasn't the Peeping Tom type. I never
joined in when my gym class found new ways to intrude in the girls'
locker room. Why should I? I could see all the skin I wanted at
home. But this was a different situation and a different girl, and
in many ways I was still no different from any other 15-year-old
boy.
I peered through Alex's doorjamb to see where the two were. I
could watch Alex openly at any time and she wouldn't mind, but
Patty was definitely an "outsider," even though she had been
brought Upstairs. They were sitting crosslegged, side by side on
Alex's brass bed, dumping out the contents of two small shopping
bags labeled MALIBU BIKINI SHOP. I knew that place; even the
limbless manikins in the window were exciting! In each bag was a
small bundle wrapped in tissue, and each bundled was unwrapped to
reveal two remarkably tiny strips of brightly colored cloth.
Patty was smoothing out her new neon red bikini on the bedspread
in front of her. "My dad would kill me if he saw me wearing this at
the beach!"
She giggled and lifted the cups of the halter top so they looked
like two miniature tents. Without realizing it, she tugged a little
at the tips of her bra and compared the result.
Alex's suit was just as brilliant a shade of cerulean blue,
which I knew would contrast electrically with her hair and eyes.
"Well? Let's try 'em on!" said Alex, scrambling off the bed.
"Here?" Patty looked dubious.
"Of course, 'here'," Alex laughed. "You're going to wear that
Do-It-Now suit at the beach in front of thousands of ravenous boys,
aren't you? Don't you want to know what it really looks like on you
first? Especially since they wouldn't let us try them on at the
store?" She was already unzipping her jeans.
"I have a full-length mirror in my room at home," Patty pointed
out.
"Uh-huh. And what was it you just said about your father?
Besides, we need to help each other adjust the fit, for maximum
effect!" Her voice was muffled by the knit top she was pulling off
over her head, and then she was standing there in bra and panties,
a hand on one hip, waiting for her friend to catch up.
Patty looked up a bit shyly and surveyed the sleekness of Alex's
body. I made a bet with myself that she admired my sister's
trimness -- but that she also thought her own breasts would even up
the score. If she could work up the nerve to strip.
"Well, . . ." Patty stood up slowly but then began rapidly
shucking off her jeans and sweatshirt before she lost her nerve.
Both girls were facing generally in my direction and I was careful
to stand back from the door crack a few inches. Patty seemed
momentarily shocked when Alex dropped and stepped out of her
panties. I was merely surprised; when had that happened? My
sister's curly red-brown pubic thatch had been trimmed and
regimented. Her crotch was now shaved bare at the sides and she was
completely naked between her legs, obviously so she would only show
at the beach what she intended to show. The effect was to make her
appear even slimmer than she was, and a bit more vulnerable as
well. I liked the effect. Alex stood calmly naked, waiting for
Patty to finish undressing -- she was giving her encouragement by
example, I thought.
Patty dropped her bra and bent over to push down her panties.
Her breasts swung out invitingly and I stored the image away as a
mental polaroid for the next time I needed a fantasy. She stood up
and took a breath. Little Patty actually had a much nicer body than
I had given her credit for. She had some extra flesh but it was
smooth and lightly tanned; she was becoming voluptuous, not fat or
flabby. I should have realized that anyone who could make the
swimming team in the first place would be in top physical
condition. The wider flair of her hips made her look like an Earth-
mother-in-training and her stomach was flat and muscular. Her legs
were proportioned to her lesser height. She wasn't a natural
blonde, though. Her pubic hair was a rich brown mat that entirely
concealed her crotch and much of her groin. Her shoulders were
broader than Alex's, and while her breasts were much fuller than my
sister's, her small pink nipples stood up right where they should.
She might be a little overbalanced, but there was no sag. I
immediately revised my opinion of her looks.
Alex gave her friend's breasts a grin and a nod of approval.
"You have really nice tits, Patty. Not like these. . . ." She
cupped and lifted her own pair as Patty blushed at the intimate
compliment and then lifted her own breasts. They filled both hands.
I knew quite well that my sister was perfectly happy with the shape
of her own body; she was just putting Patty at ease. I also noticed
that Patty seemed to follow Alex's lead in many of her physical
movements. I began to suspect that she regarded my sister as a
model of gracefulness and poise. (I certainly did.)
Then both girls turned back to the bed and began sorting out
their new beach assault weapons. Patty had a rather larger ass than
Alex, but it fit right in with the rest of her equipment. Alex had
her suit on first. The bottom part was cut as low in front as she
could get away with; if she hadn't trimmed her pubic hair it would
have curled over the front. The top of the suit was a simple
elastic bandeau that went on over her head. She didn't need straps
for support -- but Patty certainly did. Her suit had a halter top
with one shoelace-sized string around the back and another behind
her neck. The bottom part had string ties at the sides that could
gather the suit in from a conservative three-inch- wide band to a
very narrow connecting strip. And the narrower the strip, I saw,
the lower the suit would ride on her hips.
They each examined themselves in the long mirror and then
stepped back and studied each other critically, measuring
psychological effect and searching for the smallest flaws. I had to
admit it: They were different types, but both girls were sexy and
beautiful. I had personal preferences, but I could also think of a
dozen guys just in my home room who would go to serious lengths for
a chance to cuddle up with Patty at the beach.
Patty put her hands out to her sides and shrugged helplessly.
"What can I say, Alex? You look terrific!" Alex blushed at her
friend's honest compliment but also managed to look pleased with
herself.
"Hey, I just thought of something," Alex said, and reached up to
the top shelf of her closet to pull down a shoebox. When she
stretched on tiptoe like that, the bottom of her bikini seemed
about to slither down to her ankles. She was going to have to be
careful in volleyball games, I thought.
After a moment she dug out the pair of deep green satin shoes I
had bought her to go with her country club dress. "I got these last
summer to go with a party dress. I think you were on vacation with
your folks."
She slipped on the shoes and became instantly sexier. High heels
are undoubtedly bad for a woman's feet, but they can sure do
wonders for the long curves of her legs.
Alex put her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest. She
began strutting across the room, swinging her ass and pointing her
toes with each step. Patty was laughing in delight and clapping.
"That's great, Alex, really! You ought to enter a beauty contest
sometime -- you got the moves down perfect!"
I was smiling, too. Alex could clown around but she was truly
gorgeous -- and she knew I thought so, and that made both of us
feel good. But her parade across the room had brought her close to
her bedroom door before I realized where she was headed. I made the
mistake of stepping back from the doorjamb too late and Alex's
quick eye caught the movement. In the second or two before she
turned, her face showed surprise, then amusement, then
thoughtfulness -- and then mischievous delight as she suddenly had
an inspiration. Two steps back toward the bed, humming "The
Stripper," Alex paused and rotated in a slow, exaggerated bump and
grind while Patty crowed with laughter. And as she turned, she gave
me a broad wink. She had an audience now and she intended to take
advantage of it. I had no idea what her plan might entail, but I
was sure it would involve Patty. She wouldn't hurt Patty, I knew;
she liked the girl too much as a friend. And if Patty was lucky,
she would never know she had been the victim of a prank. My sister
and I had many, many private jokes that the rest of the world was
never let in on.
Alex was back at her friend's side, now. She smiled and kicked
the shoes under the bed, and then stepped back to look more closely
at Patty. She parked one open hand on a canted hip -- a calculated
pose if I ever saw one -- while Patty twisted her pearl pinky ring
and waited a little nervously for Alex's verdict.
"Patty, you look really nice in that suit -- in fact, you look
great! That kind of red means 'Stop, Look, and Listen,' and the
boys are gonna do just that." The little blonde beamed radiantly.
"But" -- Alex pointed a finger dramatically at the other girl's
navel -- "You're wearing that suit much too conservatively!"
"What?!" Patty squeaked. "I feel almost naked already!" She
looked down at the narrow red strips. "How can this possibly be
'conservative'?"
Alex knelt on one knee in front of her and said in a mock stern
tone, "They put these ties here for a reason, but you still have
them let all the way out. Haven't you seen those teeny little
bikinis in action at the beach?" She began cinching up the string
on one side.
"But those girls are in college, or at least high school juniors
and seniors! I won't be 15 for another month!"
"So, you're never too young to be sexy! Besides, think of the
15-year-old boys. They watch the college girls with the grown-up
bodies, sure, but they know they'll never get within ten yards of
any of them. And then they'll turn around, and there you'll be, a
dazzling blonde their own age in a red bikini, and their eyes will
fall out on the sand. They'll stumble all over themselves, and get
tongue-tied trying to talk to you, and you'll have to hold them off
with a beach umbrella! Now that's power!"
She had cinched up the strings on both sides of Patty's suit
while Patty's expression said she was imagining the scene at the
beach -- and enjoying it. Now Alex pulled the front of the red suit
two inches lower so that it marked a straight line across Patty's
lower abdomen. Then she turned her around quickly, before she could
react, and tugged the back of her suit lower as well, almost
exposing the cleft between her cheeks. Patty was spun to the front
again.
"Have to make the most of those tits, too," Alex said as she
stood up. She held the lower string of Patty's halter top with one
hand and began experimentally sliding the cups farther apart,
exposing a much more generous cleavage. Patty stood helplessly,
caught up in Alex's radicalization of what she obviously thought
was already a very daring bikini.
"Untie the bottom string." Patty did as she was told but
clutched the strings at her sides.
"We move the string farther up under your boobs to make 'em
stand out, . . . okay, tie it again." Patty breasts looked larger
now and more nearly spherical. Alex stepped behind her. "Now we
cheat gravity a little . . ." She untied the halter string behind
Patty's neck. "Lift your boobs, Patty; c'mon, use your hands!" Alex
retied the neck string and stepped back. "Now, go take a look in
the mirror, kid -- every boy you meet is going to have an instant
hard-on. You're going to have to wear a name tag: 'Hi, my name is
Patty, and please don't cum in your trunks'!"
Patty's face suggested she had just survived a whirlwind, but
when she saw her quarter profile in the long mirror her mouth fell
open and she stared. Her bust looked to be a full cup size larger
than it already was, and the skinny little sides of the bottom of
her suit emphasized the earthy flair of her hips and made her legs
look longer. In a word, she was luscious. She unconsciously arched
her back a little more and cocked one hip. She looked speechlessly
at Alex, who grinned and made an 'O' with thumb and forefinger.
"What did I tell you? You believe me now?" She moved up close to
Patty.
"Now -- if you'll trust me with a sewing machine, I think we
ought to take in the sides of each of these about a half- inch. .
. ." She tucked under the edges of each halter cup with her fingers
and managed to stroke the surfaces of Patty's breasts as she did
so. "I'm going to take in my top some, I think, and remove the
lining so my nipples will show through." She looked down at her
bandeau as she pulled down its top edge as far as her brown
areolae. "I do have great nipples, don't I?" Patty watched, somehow
unaware that right now their breasts, bellies, crotches, and thighs
all were less than two inches apart.
Alex moved her hands slightly and then she was casually, gently
lifting the weight of Patty's breasts. The other girl seemed
hypnotized; I knew the feeling. Alex sighed. "Gee, I wish I had
boobs like these." No, she didn't, but I was beginning to
understand where Alex's game was going.
At 14, my sister was already an artist at seduction. She had a
talent for it when she chose to use it, and I was the proof; when
she wanted something from me she nearly always got it.
Alex withdrew her hands before her friend could think of
anything to say and casually removed her own suit. "If you'll leave
that outfit with me for a day or two, I'll brew you up some magic,
okay?"
Patty was pulling off her suit, too -- mostly because Alex had
done so, but she didn't realize that. She nibbled at her lower lip
for a second. "Alex? I'm glad I have someone like you for a
friend." She was sweet and sincere, and still astonished by her
transformation in the mirror. "Why are you so much smarter about
boys than I am?"
Alex gave her a surprised glance and then a genuinely warm
smile. "I'm glad we're friends, too, Patty. You're one of the very
nicest people I know. And I'm not smarter; maybe I just work at it
harder." I'll bet you've also had more practice, I thought, and
smiled.
Patty really was a nice girl, besides being sexier than I would
have expected. Then Alex put her arms around her in an affectionate
girl-girl hug and Patty responded in kind. It would have seemed the
most innocent embrace in the world, had they not both been naked.
Again, Alex quit first. She looked around the room for a moment
while one hand absently stroked her pubic hair. Then she looked at
her crotch in apparent surprise.
"I almost forgot! There's something else you need to do before
you can wear that bikini."
"What?"
"This!" My sister spread her thighs slightly, bent her knees,
and pushed her crotch forward to display her cropped pubic patch.
"If you don't trim it back, your hair will stick out the sides
of your suit. Remember Mary Elizabeth's first dive in the tank suit
she borrowed from her older sister? It looked like her pussy was
drowning and trying to escape!" Both girls burst into peals of
laughter. I wished I had been present at that practice.
Patty fluffed her large bush thoughtfully. Without being aware
of it, she was becoming used to being naked around Alex, who always
walked and behaved exactly the same way whether she was dressed or
not. Especially when she knew she was safe at home, my sister had
totally lost what other people might regard as modesty, and her
unconcerned attitude toward bare skin sometimes rubbed off on other
people.
"You really think I have too much hair down there?"
"Well, you don't have it shave it completely . . . although that
would attract attention."
Patty looked momentarily alarmed before she realized that Alex
was teasing her, and then she smiled prettily. "Well, I can trim it
down at home."
"I thought you bought a Lady Something-or-Other electric because
you kept nicking your legs? And I don't think your dad would
appreciate finding pussy hairs in his shaving cream. Besides, an
electric leaves a stubble; it really itches."
Patty looked baffled. "Embroidery scissors?"
"It's not just the length," Alex explained. "It's the width. You
need a strip of bare skin on each side and underneath. Also, with
that much hair, when it gets wet, it soaks up water like a sponge
and it expands. Like in the shower?" She stroked her index finders
down her own newly-mown crotch. Patty watched in fascination and
continued to pluck at her own bush.
Alex looked her solemnly in the eye. "I'd be happy to do it for
you if you'd trust me to, Patty. I'll be very careful not to knick
you. And if we do it here, your father won't ever know about it,
right?" I held my breath. This was the crucial point in what I
suspected Alex was planning.
"Uh, nobody's ever touched me there, except my doctor." She was
talking mostly to herself.
"Patty, your gynecologist is a man and he practically shoves his
whole fist up in you, doesn't he? Most of 'em do." Patty looked a
bit dazed, but nodded.
"I'm a girl and I'm your friend, aren't I? Friends help each
other out, especially with things you can't really go to your folks
about. And I'll be very careful, I promise." Alex was speaking
softly and soothingly, now, and I could tell Patty was allowing
herself to be talked into this adventure.
"Well, . . I guess you're right. I guess I do have too much hair
for a bikini. Besides," she added with a self-deprecating twinkle,
"I don't think I could see what I was doing!" She spread her
breasts apart with both hands and peered down between them. Her
subconscious had come up with the perfect way of asserting her
physical superiority to Alex in the one department she was
absolutely sure of. She had even turned it into a sexy joke. Patty
had definitely loosened up in the past hour.
"Okay, why don't you empty off that chair while I get the
stuff?" Alex was all business now. The chair she waved at was an
old wooden kitchen piece, straight-backed and armless, repainted
bright yellow. It served as a seat, stepping stool, clothes rack,
and especially as a gathering place for junk. Alex was keeping her
friend occupied while she went next door to the bathroom. I stepped
back against the wall as Alex came out of her bedroom. Thirty
seconds later she was back with her safety razor and a new blade,
her needlework scissors and a small comb, and two bath towels --
and my shaving mug and brush. I pointed at the brush and smiled and
nodded in approval. Alex pointed to her eye, which meant "Watch and
see."
Patty was standing a bit nervously by the now-empty chair,
fingering her pubic hair protectively. Her body language always
spoke volumes and yet she remained unaware of it. Remaining naked
herself, as another kind of supportive body language, Alex folded
a towel and draped it neatly over the chair seat, and then adjusted
the chair's angle so my view would be unimpeded. "Would milady care
to park it?" She made a theatrical flourish and Patty sat down with
her knees and feet together and her hands in her lap. Alex knelt
before her.
"Umm. Patty, dear -- I have to be able to get to the work
site," Alex explained gently and laid one hand lightly on the other
girl's knee.
With Alex's quiet prompting, Patty finally got settled. She
found herself scooted far forward on her coccyx with her pussy
cantilevered over the front of the chair. Her knees were spread as
wide as for any gynecologist and her heels were hooked over the
rungs on the sides of the chair. To keep herself from sliding off,
she had a grip on the chair's back slats over her shoulders, which
also had the effect of lifting and pressing her breasts together.
I had wondered why Alex didn't simply have her lie on a towel on
the bed. Now I knew why. The little blonde was vulnerable and wide
open to the world; she looked like a pose from HUSTLER.
Working slowly and carefully, Alex untangled Patty's pubic hair
with the comb and trimmed it down to shaving level. Then she
quickly whipped up a mug full of suds and twirled the brush in it
as she had often seen me do. She slowly stropped the brush up and
down between Patty's legs -- not only on the sides of her crotch
but vertically across her clit and downward below her cunt, almost
to her asshole. There was quite a bit of hair in front of Patty's
puckered little opening. Patty's eyes flickered closed and her lips
began to twitch; she was feeling something but she wasn't going to
admit it, not even to herself.
I watched in fascination as my sister slowly and carefully
cleared a bare area on each side of Patty's half-open cunt; I
suspected she could work a lot more rapidly if she cared to. She
seemed to completely ignore the protruding clit that emerged from
its sheath of its own volition. Alex did very neat work, squaring
the thick tangle into a neat, brush-like vertical hedge and
shortening its length overall. She also managed to lean her
forearms frequently on Patty's splayed knees and to drag her own
nipples across the inner surfaces of Patty's thighs. Several times
she moved her head in close -- just being careful, you know -- and
opened her mouth wide, breathing warm air directly onto Patty's
clit. She continued, meticulously shaving clean the entire area
toward the back of Patty's crotch. Finally, she wiped off the soap
with the other towel, being sure the coarse material traveled the
whole length of her gaping cunt. She handed Patty a large hand
mirror so she could view the result.
"Now, we don't want you to get razor burn -- happens a lot the
first time you shave." She picked up a bottle of moisturizing cream
from behind the chair, uncapped it, and dribbled a stream of the
pale cream down both sides of Patty's crotch, and then down the
sheath of her clit. Patty gasped and her toes curled at the touch
of the cool, thick liquid. Alex slowly spread the cream up and down
the creases of her crotch and her exposed lips. She spread it
evenly over the clitoral sheath. The covering hand moved back and
the little blonde's clit, pinkish red and twitching involuntarily,
emerged and grew. Alex's forefinger lightly smoothed the cream down
the center of the cunt before her, touching but not penetrating the
opening, and continued to the satiny area between the bottom of her
wide-open pussy and the darker, ridged opening below. Patty was
holding her breath, and so was I, but Alex's finger stopped just
short and lifted away.
The brush, Alex's careful but persistent manipulation of her
labia, the friction of the towel, and finally the soothing cream
had all done their work. Patty's breath was coming in erratic puffs
as she gazed in amazement through half-closed eyes at her newly
revealed crotch. She passed her own hand over the smooth, soft
surfaces and curves, even drawing one finger dazedly across the tip
of her clit. It abruptly struck me that Patty's general shyness,
the apparent attitudes of her parents, and the thick, rapid growth
of her pubic thatch probably had prevented her from ever getting a
close look at her own genitals. This was all a new discovery for
her.
Alex apparently had drawn the same conclusion and added it to
her plan. Still kneeling on the floor between Patty's knees, she
spread her own legs and leaned back on her heels, her nipples
visibly elongating. Her middle finger glided down into her own slit
and disappeared, and she sighed lightly. "You know, trimming your
pussy also makes it easier to get yourself off," she said quietly.
Patty shook her head vigorously. "No, I don't do that! My dad
caught me . . . playing with myself when I was 12 and he beat the
crap out of me! Besides, it isn't good for you." What do you think
has just been happening, I wondered.
Alex continued stroking herself, mostly for Patty's visual
benefit, but she gave her friend a sympathetic look. "What do you
do when you get horny, then? And don't tell me you never get
horny!"
It hadn't occurred to Patty that she could put her legs down;
they were still spread wide and her clit was twitching more
frequently. One hand held the mirror and the other began absently
to stroke the neat pad of hair that remained as she studied its
reflection. "I just get frustrated, I guess," she said softly.
"Sometimes, though, when I'm alone, I squeeze my legs together and
I feel a sort of tingle." She didn't notice that she had
contradicted her earlier denial.
"Patty, it's called 'masturbation,' not 'playing with yourself,'
and it's a natural part of sex -- and sex is a natural part of
life. Not masturbating is what's abnormal! I'm still a virgin --
yes, I am -- and I had my first orgasm a year ago by masturbating
myself. And it felt wonderful!" Alex's fingers were beginning to
move up and down like slender pistons.
"You can't just go on being horny and frustrated! Doing yourself
takes the edge off. You can keep control of yourself with a boy
when he gets you hot because you know you can always finish it
later. Otherwise, some guy is going to get you so worked up you'll
let him fuck you just to get it over with, to release the pressure
-- and it might not be the right guy or the right time and place.
Boys jerk off all the time, you know that, and it's a lot harder
for them to hide it! And if it's natural for them to do it, why
shouldn't girls do it, too? Look at your body, Patty! It's ready
for you to get pregnant and have a baby. But you can tell it to be
patient and still have all the fun part of sex."
Alex's fingers were acting independently of her mouth, caressing
and tugging at her clit and pressing its sheath back to expose more
of it. The tiny red shaft glistened moistly. Patty couldn't take
her eyes off that busy hand. She tried halfheartedly to conceal her
own cunt by cupping her hand over it, but her legs were still
splayed out. "I don't think I know how," she said in a small voice
with a sudden low sob at the end.
My sister wasn't close to orgasm yet, I could tell that, and her
fingers slowed and stopped. She could save herself up, remaining at
a high sexual pitch but picking her own moment for a climax. I had
seen her do that before, too, and it always astonished me. She
stood and bent over Patty, her hands on the other girl's shoulders.
Her breasts swung in a shallow curve a few inches before Patty's
face. Her nipples were as erect and rigid as pencil erasers.
"Patty, I've never been a teacher before, and I'm sure no sex
therapist, but my pussy is something I know real well. I admit it -
- virgin or not, I enjoy sex. And when I do pick out the guy I want
to pop my cherry, I'm going to be ready. No fumbling around, no
confusion. I'm going to know what I'm doing." She put a hand behind
each of Patty's thighs, lifted her legs from the chair rungs, and
set her feet together on the floor. Then she pulled her to her
feet.
Patty clutched Alex's upper arms and put her forehead against
her shoulder. She canted one hip, which pressed what remained of
her public hair against Alex's thigh; my sister's crotch was in a
similar situation. Alex glided both hands up and down the small of
Patty's back and murmured soothingly in her ear as the soft sobbing
continued.
Patty made a strange picture, standing there: naked and sexy,
but shy, breasts trembling against Alex's as she tried to control
her tears, moisture reflecting from her eyelashes as she kept her
head down in embarrassment -- not because she was naked and nipple
to nipple in another girl's embrace, but because her clit was
throbbing wetly and she didn't know what to do about it. She was
desirable and she knew it, but the very lushness of her body
frightened her. It sounded like her father wasn't being much help,
either. Watching through the doorjamb, I felt a surprising wave of
sympathy for little Patty.
Alex had played her prank, exposing the most intimate parts of
Patty's body to me in great detail -- which had hurt no one but
would provide us with hours of conversation later -- and arousing
her friend's untried sensuality into the bargain. But Alex truly
liked Patty and now she obviously intended to try to help her
friend become less sexually helpless. The fact that she knew I was
still watching was irrelevant.
Alex sat both of them down on the side of the bed, thighs again
pressed side-to-side, and put her arm comfortingly around her
shoulder. "Patty, sex is supposed to be fun," she began, "and I
promise you it is, if you know what you're doing. It's not
something you should be afraid of. I know -- there are guys you
have to be careful of because they get carried away, even if
they're sorry afterwards. And some guys are just selfish, unfeeling
sons-of-bitches." Patty nodded in agreement; I had a feeling she
had run into a few of those. "But Patty, that isn't your fault and
it doesn't make sex bad. And most guys are okay. You are a
beautiful girl and they're more likely to be afraid of you. That's
why they get tongue-tied and act silly sometimes. They just don't
know what else to do."
Alex glanced for a moment at the crack in the door where I
stood. "Let me give you an example. The boy I know best is the one
I live with, okay? My brother, Michael. He and I get along -- in
fact we're pretty good friends. Now, let me ask you: Do you think
he's good-looking?"
Patty looked up at her in surprise, as if it were a silly
question. "Sure, I think he's very good looking."
"Okay," Alex went on. "Is he sexy?" I wondered how many games
she was playing? Or had the identity of the contestant simply
changed?
Patty hesitated. "Yeah, I guess he is. I mean, I've never gone
out with him, of course, but he smiles at me in school. But maybe
that's because he knows you and I are friends," she concluded
doubtfully.
"That's negative thinking, Patty!" Alex smiled. "Anyway, I've
seen a lot more of him than you have, and *I* think he's sexy! If
he weren't my brother, he might even be the one I'd pick to give my
virginity to." That got my attention. Patty looked a little
startled but interested. Alex was stroking the inside of her
friend's thigh, but Patty seemed not to notice.
"I've seen him naked a couple of times, like in the bathroom. He
has a swimmer's muscles, too, remember. And a nice ass. And a very
interesting looking cock." She lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"Once, I watched him jerking off in the shower, because the shower
door wasn't fogged up too badly. His cock looked huge, and when he
shot off it really made me hot! So I came back in here and
fantasized about it and got myself off. You see what I'm saying? He
came in the shower, by himself, and I came in my bed, by myself,
and we both enjoyed it."
"But I don't know how to . . . to get myself off. I've tried
just rubbing it . . . I mean, I . . ." She was admitting to more
than she had intended but Alex laughed and squeezed her shoulder
encouragingly.
"Well, I can take care of that! Scoot up here, Patty . . ." Alex
pushed herself backwards, against the brass headboard and put her
legs straight out in front of her. "Over here, next to me." She put
her hand flat on the bed beside her.
Patty hesitated again for a long second, then turned and crawled
over next to Alex -- who moved over an inch so the entire length of
their flanks were pressed warmly together. Alex brushed the instep
of her right foot against the sole of Patty's left. Patty's toes
curled over.
"Now, follow me . . ." My sister arched her back slightly and
cupped her breasts in her hands, massaging and tugging at her
nipples. She took a deep breath of enjoyment. "Think of someone
whose hands you want to imagine on your body."
Patty followed her example, almost over-balancing when she
arched her back. Her nipples were pink little buttons, much smaller
that Alex's, but they also rose under the friction of her
fingertips.
"I've done this before, too," Patty sighed, "but it feels
different this time. It must be because we're doing it together."
They continued stroking themselves almost in unison for several
minutes, and their breathing grew heavier.
"Alex, . . . this doesn't mean we're, uh, lesbians, does it?"
My sister threw her head back and laughed. "No, of course not!
You're a dear, sweet girl, Patty -- but you're *not* the person I'm
daydreaming about right now, I guarantee!" I wondered who *was* in
her daydream.
"Now, move your hands where you want your dream-lover to put his
hands. Remember, they aren't your hands right now -- they're his."
She moved her own hands smoothly down her sides, down her upper
legs, then back up the insides of her thighs. Her skin was
beginning to flush lightly wherever her hands passed. Patty copied
her movements and her eyelids fluttered as her imagination replaced
the touch of her palms with someone else's.
"Patty, you wouldn't believe whose hands I'm feeling on me right
now." Alex shifted her gaze directly at me and smiled
provocatively. She spread her legs wide apart, sliding the left one
under Patty's. Patty bent her knees and took a similar position.
Both girl's pussies were open to me, though only one of them knew
it, and the sight of two such lovely bodies being systematically
aroused was almost more than I could stand. My cock had grown thick
and erect, but I couldn't masturbate or even unzip my cutoffs, for
fear Patty would hear the sound. I had to be content with hiking up
one leg of my shorts enough to expose the head of my cock, which I
squeezed and massaged as quietly as I could.
At Alex's lead, the girls had both hands in their crotches, now,
stroking their labia between their fingers and reaching far back to
tease their assholes with an occasional light touch.
Alex nudged Patty to get her attention. "Getting juicy?" she
breathed.
"Oh, yes . . . !" Patty's head was leaning partly on Alex's
shoulder.
Alex thrust two fingers up into her vagina and brought them out
dripping with aromatic wetness. She began to slide her shining
fingers slowly up and down her clit, which already resembled a tiny
red cock. Patty took more time with her fingers, moving them in and
out of her cunt, experiencing probably for the first time the
internal friction. Then she also moved her attention to her clit.
Her breath began to rasp, as her fingers moved faster.
"No, Patty! Take your time -- stop for a moment if you have to!
Make it last and last. . . . You've heard about boys who are
virgins, who just stick it in and cum immediately? They don't know
how to take it slow and it's over too quickly."
Patty obediently slowed her pace and even turned her head on
Alex's shoulder to watch my sister's technique. Alex was doing slow
rings and figure-eights with two fingertips around her clit,
returning to her cunt at intervals for additional lubricant. She
had done this many times and knew exactly how to pace herself.
Patty returned to her own rising passion, but using more control
this time. A few minutes later, Alex began making low animal sounds
in her throat and bent her head back. Her fingertips were racing
around the tip and shaft of her clit, now. Then she caught her
breath, jerked slightly several times, and then relaxed with a
sigh. She stretched her legs out without removing her hand and
simply sat quietly for a few moments in the afterglow of her
climax.
My own legs were trembling so badly I had to go carefully down
on one knee to keep from falling.
But Patty had stopped her finger-work, engrossed in her friend's
orgasm. Alex looked down at her with a smile. She withdrew her hand
from between her legs; her fingers were wet and shiny. She raised
her hand casually and traced the moisture from her fingers across
Patty's upper lip. "You want to know what it's really all about,
Patty? Inhale deeply. That smell will drive a guy completely out of
his mind." Hell, I could identify that particular pungent aroma all
the way out in the hall. I had brought several girls to a climax by
masturbating them, and they all smelled different.
Then Alex became aware that Patty had stalled out. She was
flushed with sexual arousal but she'd lost her way and her fingers
were moving almost mechanically. Her lips were compressed in
frustration; she'd climbed almost to the top of the ladder but she
couldn't quite make the last step.
Alex put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her down flat
on her back on the bed and propped herself on her elbow. "I'll help
you, Patty, you're almost there, you just need a boost to climb
over the top. . . ."
Alex covered Patty's motionless hand and her whole pubic mound
with her own hand and began moving the two in a pattern together.
After a minute, as Patty's respiration rate began to increase
again, Alex slid her hand under Patty's and took control of the
blonde's pussy. Patty's eyes were closed tightly; she may have
thought it was her own fingers that were back in action. Alex
dipped her fingers into Patty's cunt for more lubrication and went
to work at the base of her shaft, gradually moving toward the tip.
I don't think she planned what happened next. It was just the
appropriate sexual thing to do, I think. My sister looked down at
Patty head lying on her arm, smiled, and kissed her full on the
lips. Patty's mouth reached up eagerly and returned the kiss, and
she made little sounds of excitement. She was so far out of it, I
think she believed it was her daydream she was kissing. Her eyes
never opened. Alex raised her head as her friend's pelvis and legs
jerked uncontrollably several times. Then a brief spasm shook her
entire body as she gasped and opened her mouth and curled her
tongue. A final extended moan escaped her lips and then all her
muscles seemed to relax at once and she lay loosely.
Alex combed Patty's hair back out of her eyes with her fingers.
The other girl had beads of sweat over her breasts and belly and
she was still panting. "God, I didn't know . . . it could feel . .
. like that. . . ." She turned over on her side to face Alex, who
was propped on her elbow again. I knew my sister wasn't going to
mention the kiss. Let Patty think it was her imagination. I felt
the wetness oozing down my leg; I had cum uncontrollably during
that kiss.
There were teardrops on Patty's lashes again, but this time for
a very different reason. Her first orgasm had opened up a whole new
world for her, a new self-image and new possibilities. Andshe
realized it, too, because she slid both arms around Alex, her face
pressed between my sister's breasts, and hugged her tightly. Alex
held her closely and stroked her back, then threw one leg gently
over her hip. Patty's reaction was automatic. She put her leg
between Alex's and pressed her thigh snugly up against her crotch.
They lay together like that for perhaps five minutes, each floating
back down to earth.
They finally unfolded themselves and sat up crosslegged on the
bed, laughing quietly. Patty's face seemed fundamentally changed,
somehow, and it took a moment to see that she looked truly happy
for the first time since I had known her. She was relaxed and
excited at the same time, filled with new confidence, eager to try
out her new red bikini on the male public. I was happy for her,
too. I turned and crawled back across the hall, being as quiet as
possible. I felt as drained as though I had been responsible for
Patty's climax myself, and I didn't even attempt to stand.
Subject: Siblings: Chapter 8
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The First Time
[...from a novel in progress...]
Alex and I went through a period of anxiety and self-doubt
between Christmas and the New Year. In barely a week, I would be 16
and she 15 -- old enough to marry in some states with parental
consent. Our relationship had evolved so gradually that neither of
us had felt any pressure about it. It was like taking a slow stroll
through rising hills and coming abruptly to a halt at the brink of
an unexpected chasm. We suddenly were realizing just how high we
had climbed. In less than a single year, our physical relationship
had progressed from separate masturbation, to jerking off in
company, to making out like any other teenagers, to *really* making
out, to mutual oral sex. And after Alex's episode with Patty, the
only thing it seemed we hadn't done was The Deed itself.
As long as Alex was still technically a virgin, regardless of
the amount of sex play we indulged in, perhaps we thought we could
continue to pretend that this was all just fun and affectionate
games. But we understood now that soon, very soon, we would no
longer be able to restrain ourselves. The sex play wouldn't be
enough. Though we didn't discuss it in so many words, we both
wanted very badly to spend an entire night fucking ourselves into
exhaustion. Moreover, the opportunity was there every day and the
lingering fear of taking that final step was dissipating. What were
we going to do?
It all came to a head the third week in December. We were lying
in her bed, naked, our bodies pressed hungrily together. My hands
were squeezing and stroking her ass and her hands were manipulating
my penis and my balls. We both were breathing hard. My cock was an
inch away from where I knew it belonged, and I wanted so badly to
slip it into that warm, moist opening! And I was convinced that
Alex wanted me inside her, too. I knew I wasn't the only one torn
by physical desire when I gradually became aware that my sister's
body was shaking from some emotion other than lust.
Her face was buried against my chest and I had to pull back to
see that she was sobbing in frustration. Her face was flushed and
she looked terribly unhappy. I pulled her close to me again and
cuddled her head beneath my chin and stroked her back.
Her fingers tried to kneed my chest. "I'm sorry, Michael. I just
don't think I can stand it any longer. I WANT YOU! Making love like
this without *really* making love is driving me crazy!"
God, I wanted her, too. But I was worrying about it a lot
lately, just as she was. I knew what "incest" was -- we both had
read quite a lot about its perils and traumas. But the cases we
read about had seemed to involve mostly young girls trying to deal
with forced relationships by much older male relatives, whether
father or brother, and that certainly didn't apply to us.
Consenting sibling incest, if it was discussed at all, was seldom
analyzed or tracked for its social and psychological consequences.
No one approved of it, of course -- most of the books we had read
through didn't seem to approve of sex at all -- and again, there
was always the assumption of a forced relationship.
We had found one case study in a popular magazine and read it
together several times, trying to make sense of it. It concerned a
couple in their late 20s who had met through friends, begun dating,
and fallen in love. They had seemed almost magnetically drawn to
each other from the first and they planned to be married in due
course. Then the woman, who was an adoptee searching for her
biological family, finally uncovered explicit information about her
long-lost siblings, all of whom had been adopted out to different
families at a very young age -- and there on the list of names was
the man with whom she was in love. Alex and I both thought this a
terrible tragedy -- to gain a sibling at the expense of losing a
lover and spouse-to-be -- but the couple in the magazine article
had immediately shifted gears and romantic love seemed to instantly
transform itself into traditional filial devotion. Neither of us
could quite believe that the couple had been able to undergo such
a radical emotional transformation without severe psychological
disturbance. Or were most people really such slaves to a primarily
European tradition?
We didn't know, but it was frightening. And it was the most
important reason that we went to such lengths to keep our own
relationship secret. As brother and sister, we were utterly devoted
to each other. But as members of the opposite sex, we were deeply
in love. And not puppy love, either.
I had a couple of acquaintances who had gone through a "crush"
phase with an older brother or sister. They laughed about it later
or maintained an embarrassed silence. We had also read the theories
of psychologists who argued that siblings went through a stage of
infantile sexual attraction which they were physically unable to
fulfill, so that the attraction turned to active rejection of each
other as possible sex partners by the time they reached puberty.
That sounded like crap to us, and it certainly didn't fit our own
case.
We also knew the hoary old biological arguments -- that children
born of incestuous relationships were likely to be congenital
idiots with two heads, or worse. We knew *that* wouldn't wash. The
human gene pool was much too large for common parents in one
generation to be statistically significant.
So we weren't in a situation of child abuse, and there was no
valid biological argument that we could see. Incest was simply a
taboo, inherited from Neolithic ancestors with a different survival
agenda. And we lay there in bed, holding tightly to each other,
both of us in tears now, feeling conspired against by society. Our
relationship, emotional and otherwise, was certainly different --
we recognized that. But did that make it "wrong"? Maybe we were
*ahead* of the pack in terms of evolution. Maybe many other sibling
couples felt as we did but were afraid of departing so far from the
norm, or thought themselves depraved. Perhaps we shared a common
insanity. Or was everybody *else* nuts? After awhile, we found
ourselves sprawled on Alex's bed in conversational mode, still
naked, but not feeling very sexually aroused at the moment. The
tears had gone but the depression hadn't.
"Michael, what it comes down to is whether we're going to listen
to ourselves or to the rest of the world. Do we want -- do we
*need* -- each other badly enough to tell everyone else to go to
hell?"
"But we're still minors, Alex. Unless we ran away, the State
would keep us apart if they found out. We'd both probably end up in
the nut house, under shock treatment. Remember the ending of
"Cuckoo's Nest"? And you know we're not going to drop out of school
and run away from home. We'd make lousy hippies. I think all we can
do is to keep the Secret and wait until we're old enough that no
one can stop us, until we can protect ourselves."
"But that's years yet -- and a year longer for me! Michael, I
don't want to wait that long -- I can't! I want to fuck you!" Her
cheeks colored a bit at her own vehemence and she took a deep
breath. "I want to make love to you, Michael. And I want you to
make love to me. *Love.* And I can't wait too much longer. I've
been waiting for months. I even started taking the Pill a few
months ago -- Janie's father is a doctor and she got them for me --
and I've just been waiting for the right time." She gave me a look
of such longing, I got flutters in my stomach.
She shifted to a kneeling position, which -- even naked --
seemed somehow more formal. Her expression became serious. "It all
comes down to one question, Michael: Do you love me?"
I just looked at her for a moment, then sat up facing her. This
didn't sound like a rhetorical question; did she really need an
answer? "You know how I feel about you, Alex."
She folded her hands together and tucked them between her knees,
and studied them. "Maybe I do, but I have to hear it. Please."
I leaned forward and covered her hands with mine. I looked into
her eyes and said slowly and clearly, "Alex, I love you with all my
heart." She blushed a little but her smile seemed relieved. She
caught my hand and squeezed.
"Michael, I love you more than anything. Anything. We *are* in
love, for real, and it's not fair that we can't share it
physically, like any other couple."
I guess that's what made up my mind. I was still nervous about
taking the final step, taking my sister's virginity, even though
she was actively pressing it on me. "Incest," I decided at that
moment, was just a word. An outmoded concept that had no relevance
to us. I'd had one semester of psychology, though I was actually
very widely read in that field already, and I suspected Freud and
his crowd would have all sorts of significant things to say about
us, but that simply didn't interest me. It didn't mean anything. My
sister and I might be unusual in our relationship, but that was all
it was -- "unusual." If we had had two different sets of parents,
we would have been just like any other teenage couple, and no one
would care. So what was so perverted? What was so degenerate about
us?
I realized that my conclusions had been coalescing for months.
I knew I loved a girl named Alexandra. And that it wasn't a crush,
or puppy love, or anything so trivial. That was all we were
supposed to be capable of feeling at our age, but I was convinced
that our feelings for each other were much, much deeper. Perhaps we
were simply more mature in certain ways than most of our peers ...
or maybe it was our slowly developing love and resulting closeness
that had matured us. However cause and effect worked, the result
was the same.
These thoughts rushed in and piled atop one another in my mind
as we sat there in bed holding hands and gazing longingly at each
other. It was almost an epiphany. My nervousness about the
resolution of our sexual involvement was still there, of course,
but now it was the natural nervousness of any young male
contemplating sex with a girl he cared for deeply. That word, the
one we never used aloud, no longer entered into it.
The few seconds' pause in our conversation seemed like an hour.
I had to think back to recall the last thing Alex had said. Ah.
Yes.
"You're right," I replied. "It's not fair. And I think we've
just decided to do something about it, haven't we?" Alex looked
faintly surprised at the sudden resolution in my voice. "But I
think we should treat this as a special occasion -- special for
both of us. Why don't we give each other a very special, very
private birthday gift?" Her eyes were bright, now.
"I also think we should give up all this foreplay with no 'last
act' until then. Sweets taste a lot nicer when you haven't had any
for awhile."
"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I think you're right. Looking
without being able to touch will make us anticipate the Big Day all
the more." She hesitated. "We don't have to avoid each other, do
we?"
"Alex, we're still brother and sister; what else have we been
agonizing about? We just won't be lovers for a week, not actively
anyway. But I still get a kiss in the morning, okay?"
My sister looked and seemed happier than she had appeared in
months. This was a deep river for us to cross, but I thought things
would be all right, now that we had decided to blow up the log jam.
* * * * *
It was a long week ... like trudging across a desert, even
though you know when and where the waterhole is going to be. We
continued the same friendly affection we had developed over the
years, and we still exchanged quick kisses of greeting and
departure. We held hands when we went shopping out of our
neighborhood. But each of us adopted a careful modesty around the
other. Clothing changes were made with bedroom doors shut, and we
knocked on the bathroom door, just like other people. All showers
were solo. We stopped our intimate but casual sex play. In some
ways, of course, it was godawful frustrating, but it also
heightened the sexual tension, like tightening a guitar string. For
some years, I had had regular dreams about Alex -- usually very
nice ones, too -- but now the dreams were coming every night. She
was still doing most of her studying on my bed, though she was
wearing more than just underwear these days. But neither of us was
getting a lot of studying done; we spent much of our time looking
at each other and smiling. The mounting anticipation became almost
overwhelming.
On the morning of January 6th, my -- our -- birthday, as I was
putting my keys and coins in my pockets, I discovered a neatly
sealed square envelope propped on top of my chest of drawers. On
the front was "An Invitation," lettered in my sister's precise
script. Inside was a folded sheet of her monogrammed notepaper
which read: "The Joy of Your Presence Is Requested at a Grand
Opening to Be Entered Into at Approximately 9:00 p.m. on the
Evening of January 6th and Ending Whenever the Revelers Are
Exhausted. No R.S.V.P. Required, No Excuses Accepted. Dress:
Optional." I had a great deal of difficulty concentrating on school
that Friday.
We had a leisurely supper with Mother and Dad, who wished us
both Happy Birthday and gave us our presents. Our family had never
made a big deal of birthdays, especially after we each passed the
plastic toy stage. That suited us, too. Each January, Alex and I
gave each other small, highly personalized gifts carefully selected
or handmade. The more unusual and unexpected, the better; no
unimaginative boxes of candy or bottles of cologne. This year, our
folks gave us each new wristwatches in matching style, modest in
price but better than the old Timexes we both were wearing. Our
gifts to each other would come later.
Dad was gone on weekends at least half the time these days, in
addition to his frequent business trips, but I was concerned that
he might be inconveniently present that night. Not *that* night, of
all nights, please! As it turned out, he was taking Mother for a
rare night out: They were going to a show and then to visit some
friends across town who had recently returned from a winter
vacation in the Caribbean. Mother absolutely hated lugging her
wheelchair to other people's homes, but these friends had known her
a very long time, long before her arthritis became crippling.
Anyway, they didn't expect to be home until well after Midnight,
which was fine with us.
We each took an hour in the bathroom, trying to make ourselves
perfect for the occasion. I had problems deciding what to wear. Or
should I just show up naked, wearing a bow tie? I finally settled
on a pair of slacks and a reasonably new dress shirt with the top
few buttons undone. Then I slipped on my loafers without socks.
This was almost formal attire by Upstairs standards, but it was
still nothing I couldn't get out of in a hurry. As I was brushing
my hair and wondering how to approach our rendezvous, the question
was answered by Alex's soft knock at my door.
"Michael? Don't open the door yet -- but it's ten to nine, and
I'd like you to come and open MY door at exactly nine o'clock. All
right?" I agreed and heard her bare feet hurry back down the hall.
Whatever she was preparing, it was going to be interesting.
At ten seconds before 9:00 by my new watch, I stepped across the
hall. Alex had taped a big red satin bow to the middle of her door,
with a printed note just above it: "ENTER WITHOUT KNOCKING." I
turned the knob and walked into the nearly dark room. Alex was
waiting across the room, but I was struck for a moment by how neat
and tidy the place was. No dirty laundry, bed newly made, closet
door shut. She had swept and dusted, too. This really WAS a special
occasion. The lights were off and the window shade was drawn, but
a soft illumination was provided by a dozen candles set at
intervals around the room.
Alex stood by her dresser wearing a blue velveteen mini, dark
blue hose, and a pair of shiny black patent high heels that must
have been borrowed. She had beautiful legs in any outfit, but
tonight the effect was stunning. A gold-orange satin scoop-necked
blouse provided an electric contrast to her long, deeply red hair.
She wore no jewelry -- the colors did the work very nicely. And she
certainly looked older than just-turned-15! I stood just inside her
door, rooted to the spot in amazement tinged with awe. I had never
seen my sister looking more beautiful and desirable. My face must
have shown my reaction clearly because she blushed and looked very
pleased. Then she almost giggled but managed to control herself.
She reached over to her dresser and switched on a Wollensak tape
recorder I hadn't noticed, and began walking across the room,
swaying her hips gracefully and provocatively. The music was for
slow-dancing and we slipped into each other's arms and moved around
the small, empty center of the room in no particular pattern or
step. Rather than going into a clinch as we usually did during a
slow number, we found ourselves examining each other's face
minutely. Alex seldom wore much makeup except lipstick; she simply
didn't need it. Tonight, the lipstick was absent; she knew it
wasn't much fun in serious kissing. Her lips were covered only by
a thin sheen of gloss which made her mouth appear moist and
inviting. Her eyes had gotten much more attention, however. The
shadowing was faint but effective, making her brilliant green eyes
appear even larger and more magnetic. The effect was that I felt
myself falling in love with her all over again, as if I had just
met her at a school dance. She was looking at me a little
differently, too, and I was glad I had shaved after supper (though
I'd had to search diligently for stubble). After a few minutes, she
sighed in contentment and slipped her arms possessively around my
neck. Her soft cheek brushed mine and she whispered "I love you"
close to my ear. I scattered slow kisses down her cheek and along
her jawline and she purred and shivered a little.
I popped open the little pearl buttons down the back of her
blouse one at a time as we continued to move in our unhurried
dance. Alex wore no bra and when the blouse fell open I smoothed my
hands over her soft, sleek skin, enjoying the shifting of muscles
under my fingers. She stepped back almost bashfully and let the
blouse slide off her arms. As I covered her breasts with my open
hands, she unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders. Both
garments were tossed in a chair in the corner and we went back to
dancing, pressed breast to breast, four hands caressing two bodies.
Alex took the initiative next, unhooking my slacks and sliding
down the zipper down far enough to allow them to fall to the floor.
I pushed down my briefs, stepped out of my loafers, and kicked the
whole mass to one side. We embraced and our hands continued to move
all over each other, as if exploring for the first time. Alex
reached down and squeezed my penis, stretching it upward between
us. Because she was still wearing her heels, I was able to reach
around, push up her skirt, and grip her ass, one cheek in each
hand. I think both of us wanted badly to simply throw ourselves on
the bed, but we had tacitly agreed to spend a little time
tormenting ourselves. Foreplay with a vengeance. Alex stepped away,
turned her back to me, and pushed her mini and her hose slowly to
the floor, swinging her ass as she did so. She stepped out of her
heels one at a time, to get rid of the hose, and then put them back
on. She turned back to face me, a beautiful, naked girl in heat and
heels. I was barely able to breath.
She paced the few steps back to me with smoke drifting out of
her eyes. I unconsciously backed up to the bed. "I'm not going to
suck you this time and you're not going to eat me," she said in a
low, intense voice. "We've had nothing BUT foreplay. Tonight, we're
going to fuck!" Her crooked smile seemed very determined.
She pushed me relentlessly onto my back on the bed and crawled
sinuously on top of me. My cock was erect and straining and she
rubbed her pubic mound against it as she covered my body with hers.
She nudged the inside of my calves with her feet and I spread my
legs wide and straight. She followed exactly, keeping her legs
balanced atop mine. Then she stretched my arms out to the sides and
again followed my movement, laying her palms flat against mine,
fingers spread. Her loose hair fell around my face as she touched
the tip of her nose to mine and began licking my lips with her
tongue. I thought we must look like wrestling starfish, with the
curvy one pinning the larger one. I knew I could slip my cock into
her pussy easily in this position, but Alex apparently had her own
program and kept the instrument trapped between us. She moved
against me as we kissed deeply -- just an inch or so in different
directions, but the experience of *really* full body contact was
extraordinarily sensual.
Finally, with Alex's prompting, we brought our limbs back
together and intertwined our legs and held each other very tightly.
Then we rolled over, assuming the classic intercourse position.
Alex was flushed now -- so was I -- and I felt the moisture in her
crotch filtering through her pubic hair. She raised her knees and
spread her legs. Taking my head in her hands, she began kissing my
eyes, my chin, my mouth, and whispering over and over, "Fuck me ...
fuck me ... fuck me...." She was so aroused in anticipation, her
whole body was trembling seismically.
I stroked my cock against her cleft, bringing little gasping
noises from her as it passed over her clit like a violin bow. Then
I eased it into her a little at a time, savoring the pauses. It was
as if all my nerve endings were concentrated in my cock, which felt
a foot long and six inches thick. Finally, I was all the way into
her and my forebrain wanted me to climb in behind it. This was
where both of us had wanted to be for months, and now we were here
and we almost couldn't believe it.
As I began stroking slowly in and out (I was determined not to
come too soon), Alex wrapped her legs high on my back and curled
her pelvis hard against me. She wanted me to fill her up completely
and I tried hard to comply. Her eyes fluttered open and shut and
she made rhythmic moaning sounds in the back of her throat.
My sister's leg-lock was so persistent, I found I could barely
move. I pushed her long legs up over my shoulders, with her ankles
against my ears, and took a more vertical position, like I was
drilling a well. I plunged into her at an increased pace, pulling
out almost completely each time so as to make the longest possible
strokes. Each time I felt an orgasm beginning to build, I slowed my
pace to prolong the action. But it still wasn't enough -- as if
anything *could* be enough. But I wanted all of this fantastic
girl, and she wanted to give all of herself to me.
She spread her legs as far apart as she could, hands behind her
knees. As I continued to screw myself into her, I pressed her legs
as flat against the bed as I could, trying to increase the friction
against her clit. She made a little mew of discomfort, and I sure
didn't want to hurt her in any way. I was breathing too hard to
talk, but I raised my eyebrows as a question.
She gasped a reply. "No -- it's okay -- harder -- harder and
deeper -- oh, God -- it feels so good -- I can't stand it."
So I really went to it, slamming into her like a piston in a
steam engine. Her head was jogged forward by two inches on each
stroke, but if she felt any strain it was lost in her sexual
delirium. I hadn't even touched her nipples, yet they stood up
stiffly and seemed to pulsate.
My climax started as a tingling in the soles of my feet. I
wanted very much for us to share our first "official" orgasm, and
the thin, wailing moan coming from my sister writhing mouth made me
pretty sure we could do it. She suddenly wrapped her legs around my
waist again and clung frantically to my arms and shoulders, as if
she were about to fall off a cliff. Her shuttering, gasping climax
might indeed have thrown her off the bed, except that she triggered
my own orgasm. My paroxysms continued for half a minute and she
jerked and trembled again with each new spasm.
As our hot-wired bodies slowly coasted to a halt, I rolled
carefully off Alex, who turned on her side to face me. Both of us
ran with rivulets of sweat. We kept touching each other's faces and
bodies, gently, hesitantly, awed by the intensity of what we had
just experienced. Each of us was bright red in the face and
struggling to get our wind back.
I was finally able to speak. "I was afraid I might hurt you,
Alex -- I kind of lost control for awhile...." I laid my hand on
her soft, damp cheek and she placed her hand over mine. "It felt a
little like I was killing you."
Alex kissed me softly and lovingly. "Michael," she murmured, "if
I'm dead then I've sure gone to heaven!" Then she got that look in
her eye again. "That was a beautiful birthday present -- just what
I've always wanted! But I have a present for you, too."
She scooted toward the foot of the bed until her face was level
with my crotch and slid her hands under my ass, squeezing and
kneading. My cock had shriveled considerably already, but when she
began to lick at it and suck the remaining white fluid from its
tip, it began to recover. My cock was covered with my semen and her
own juices, but she seemed to enjoy the combination of flavors, and
I certainly enjoyed the attention. I wasn't sure I could gobble her
pussy under similar circumstances. It was temporarily so soft, she
was able to stuff my entire penis into her mouth and both my balls
as well. She swallowed a couple of times, and I could sense my
equipment edging down her throat. Then she applied real suction and
clamped her mouth around the base of my genitals, without biting.
Her eyes twinkled when she tugged her head back, and the strain,
physical and emotional, became exquisitely erotic. In less than
thirty seconds, Alex found she could no longer hold all of me in
her mouth. She began to lick up and down the stem like a lollipop
and I responded with more sexual energy than I would have expected.
The head of my penis, especially, was still very sensitive from my
first orgasm and the flicking of her tongue gave me a restless
twitch.
"Alex, if you don't sit on it quick, it's gonna leave without
you!"
She grinned and bounced up to straddle my hips. Taking her cue
from my earlier method, she grasped my penis between her legs and
rubbed the head briskly against her pussy. I moaned from the
electricity she generated. She settled herself onto my cock and
pressed her crotch down and forward, pushing me into herself as far
as she could. She moved up and down experimentally, shifting her
hips from side to side. My penetration was greater than before, and
because Alex was in control, each movement and change of pace was
a surprise. It felt wonderful. I took one perfect breast in each
hand and massaged them, finally tugging her down to me. She braced
herself on locked arms, leaning forward so I could suck on her
swaying nipples. I chewed gently on the little corks and she closed
her eyes and hummed in the back of her throat. My hands on her ass
pressed her clit against my grinding cock, which made her lips curl
back. Her back was arched, her stomach flat against mine, her
breasts brushing my face. I urged her on and she flattened herself
against me, her hands squeezing my shoulders. Her ass swung up and
down as I moved down and up, both of us stretching to obtain the
longest stroke. Soon we were slamming together again, both of us
gasping for breath, and then I felt the spasm of climax building
rapidly in my groin. I squeezed her ass tightly and shot off into
her steaming cunt again. Alex was a few seconds behind me, gasping
and shuddering. The contraction of her vaginal muscles milked the
last drop of semen from me.
She let herself collapse completely, her cunt still filled to
capacity. She gave a low moan that communicated pleasure,
satisfaction, and exhaustion. My cock was shrinking from overwork,
too, and as it withdrew itself from her, I felt my come oozing out
with it. Alex finally let herself roll off and lay beside me, her
knees still slightly bent and her legs apart. I slipped my arm
behind her head and she leaned over and kissed me and stroked my
chest.
I squeezed my cock, coaxing the milky residue out, and gathered
the mixture of her juices and mine that had soaked into my pubic
hair. Then I carefully smeared it across her belly. She peered down
when she felt the stickiness and smiled benignly. Then she gathered
a handful of the stuff from between her legs and spread it just as
carefully across my stomach. I grinned back at her and put my arms
around her, and held her close to me. She folded her hands against
my chest and nibbled at my throat.
After a few warm minutes regaining our senses and basking in the
heat we had generated, Alex nuzzled me. "Michael, we need to get up
and take a shower, before we get stuck together ... as much as I
hate to leave your arms right now. God, I love you. But I can love
you in the shower, too. C'mon...."
She began scooting toward the side of the bed, trying to drag me
after her. I mumbled a protest as she rolled me over on the sweat-
soaked sheets. The clock read just after 11:30; our parents would
probably be home soon. I knew Alex was right, but she'd worn me out
and I wanted to just lie there. She finally got my attention by
tugging firmly on my flaccid penis; she giggled and I moved.
We wandered the few yards down the hall to the bathroom, arms
around each other's waists, hips bumping together. I turned the
shower up to hot-as-hell while Alex dug out a stack of thick
towels. The bathroom was already filling up with steam as we
climbed into the big shower stall and closed the glass door.
We shared showers often in those days -- except for our
anticipatory week of monkish denial. We loved soaping each other up
and down and sliding ourselves against each other. We loved
handling each other's bodies, tracing the curves and planes with
our fingertips and the palms of our hands. I enjoyed kneeling
behind her and shampooing my sister's thick hair -- and I knew she
enjoyed it, sitting cross-legged on the tile floor with her head
leaning against my chest. That position also made it easy for me to
cup her breasts in my soapy hands, to lift them and play with them,
pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She always
enjoyed that, too. There was something particularly romantic and
erotic about sharing a lengthy deep kiss, naked under the hot
cascade from the shower head, our sweat mixing with the steam, the
water splashing from her body to mine and back to hers. We did that
now, but there was the new, added element of fulfilled sex. No more
holding back, no more being careful to maintain control. As long as
both of us were willing at any given moment, we could fuck all we
wanted. It was a very liberating realization. And though we were
both more than a bit exhausted -- and very stiff -- we hadn't lost
interest.
Alex flattened her body against mine under the spray, one arm
tight around my neck and her other hand tangled in my hair as her
tongue tickled my palette. Her thighs pressed against mine, her
crotch grinding against my cock (which was, unbelievably, already
showing renewed interest), her navel trying to form a suction with
mine. Her breasts were mashed hard against my chest, as if she were
trying to get inside my skin with me.
Admittedly, I helped, massaging her ass and rubbing the base of
my cock against her clit. I backed her against the wall and shifted
my hands to her thighs. Her legs parted and, with a little
squirming and maneuvering, I was able to get my reinvigorated cock
into a position where it suddenly slid up the channel into her
cunt. She sighed and tried to hold me even closer. Her right foot
hooked behind my knee. I tried bending at the knees to get some
friction started, but my sister was too close to my own height and
too heavy to lift, especially in the slippery shower. I was only
able to move an inch or so in and out of her and both of us were
becoming frustrated.
Finally, she reached down and squeezed my balls and slid off me.
"Fuck me from behind, Michael," she said urgently. She went quickly
down on her hands and knees, facing away from the shower head. I
immediately knelt behind her and spread her upper thighs with my
hands. She angled her ass upward and her pussy showed itself
invitingly. I slid a hand between her legs and grasped her whole
crotch. She made a sound in the back of her throat and increased
the angle of her spine even more. I moved up closer and slid my
fully erect cock smoothly into her yet again. Alex's head whipped
back and a tremor traveled down her body. As I began plunging away,
she contracted the muscles in her vagina in counterpoint. Soon, she
was down on her elbows, bracing herself against the tile as I
slammed into her. Her body was being jolted so much, I was afraid
she might bang the top of her head against the wall. But when I
tried to ease off a little, Alex only insisted, "No! Fuck me
harder! Harder!"
I held onto her hips and when I squeezed, she moaned and gasped
even loader. But the floor of the shower was slippery and so were
we, and Alex's knees gradually slid out from under her. When it
became obvious that she was going to wind up on the floor of the
shower, I pushed into her as far as possible and settled her
carefully, face down. The hot water splashed off my back and my
pubic hair was tickling her asshole. She twitched her buttocks
against my belly as a signal to recommence our activities. I began
fucking her again, hoping my cock wouldn't slip out, but that
turned out not to be a problem. In fact, when she pressed her
thighs together, with my legs on the outside, I discovered that the
friction had improved -- even with my sister's naturally snug cunt.
It also was obvious that the friction against her clit had
increased. As I speeded up my strokes, shoving her whole body
forward each time, she emitted little sobs of passion. She
stretched her arms back and spread her hands along my sides, and I
laid my full weight along her body, pulling her shoulders and arms
back. Though I didn't really think about it until later, there was
probably a certain amount of domination/rape fantasy going on. I
wouldn't have hurt Alex for anything, and she trusted me
absolutely, which allowed her to at least pretend to give up some
of her control, to be submissive in her fantasies. Whatever the
case, we both got off on it.
As we speeded up again, I definitely began to feel that I was
"using" her and my reaction to that was a bit uncertain, but Alex
seemed to be enjoying herself enormously -- this WAS our third time
around this evening -- and that knowledge kept me aroused. Finally,
as we began the climb to another orgasm, I moved one hand between
our bodies so that my thumb insinuated itself between her buttocks
and pressed against her rectum. I was taking a chance since I had
no idea how my sister would react to ass- play. I wrapped my other
hand in her hair and tugged back just enough to make her arch her
neck. My hesitancy was answered when she shivered under the hot
shower and my hot body and her ass trembled. I slammed into her the
last two times and ejaculated more heavily than I would have
thought possible. At the same time, I pressed my thumb a half-inch
into her asshole and twitched it from side to side. I pulled a
little harder on her hair. She stiffened and I thought I had gone
too far. But then she took a deep breath, sighed loudly, and let
her whole body relax, almost seeming to sink into the tile. Still
lying on top of her, covering her body with mine, I was both
dominating and protecting her. I stroked her arms and flanks and
kissed the back of her neck and her shoulders. I wanted to wrap her
up in my arms and just lie there.
Eventually, though, I levered my weight off her and climbed
unsteadily to my feet. Now the water was splashing on Alex and she
moaned a little and came back to the real world, too. She stood and
we clung to each other without speaking. There was nothing more to
be said that we hadn't already communicated with our bodies. My
penis was sore and numb and her vagina was filled to the brim with
my sperm, and the world seemed perfect to us.
We finished our shower -- or, rather, we started over again --
and dried each other lovingly, pausing for kisses which were filled
with love and affection rather than passion.
Mother and Dad got home shortly after that and we called down --
with unfeigned weariness -- that we both were just about to hit the
sack. Dad didn't even make a pretense of coming up to check on us;
Alex and I not only had become used to being largely ignored by our
parents, we now depended on it in the pursuit of our own joined
lives.
It was nearly 1:00 in the morning when we finally slid into bed,
naked, me spooning in behind my sister. One of my arms supported
her head and the other wrapped itself around her torso. Alex signed
happily and wiggled back against me. I kissed the back of her head
and murmured, "I love you...."
She stroked my arm a few times. "Oh, Michael, I love you,
too...." We drifted off to sleep, stiff and tired and a little
dazed, but happier and more content than we had ever been before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Subject: Siblings: Chapter 9
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
SHOWERS
(from a novel-in-progress)
In July following my junior year in high school, my sister and
I reached a new plateau in our physical relationship. I bought or
borrowed porno magazines on occasion, from curiosity or for jacking
off to, and I knew Alex studied them too. Not that she made a
secret of it -- we had no secrets -- but sometimes I saw her stare
at a photo more intensely than usual and then turn the page
hurriedly. When she wasn't around, I'd leaf through the magazine
and try to identify the picture that had startled even her. I knew
about "regular" sex, now, so I only bought magazines that featured
the most perverse or perverted acts I could imagine. And I soon
discovered that the most graphically explicit photos were the ones
that mesmerized Alex.
That summer, I was on a secondhand anal sex binge. Those photos
seemed to arouse me even more than the pictures of oral sex in
which I had submerged myself the year before. What I found
definitely unappealing, however -- in addition to the often bored
expressions of the professional models -- was the fact that their
presumed long experience with anal sex left them with gaping
assholes that rivaled their cunts. Not very sexy, I thought.
One afternoon, when Dad had driven Mother over to her sister's
house for the afternoon -- so we two had the place to ourselves --
Alex came in from playing tennis. I was sitting on the edge of my
bed, studying again one of the ass-fucking magazines. The humidity
was high and she was running with sweat. Her polo shirt was stuck
to her back and even her white socks looked soggy. She clumped into
my room, sat down heavily in my desk chair, and blew out her
cheeks. Her coppery hair was tied back in a damp ponytail and her
freckled face was red from exertion. A definite locker room aroma
surrounded her but I found it somehow erotic.
I studied her over the top of my magazine. "Just a guess, sis,
but I think you need a shower. A long one."
"Boy, do I ever!" She pushed off her shoes without untying the
laces and wrinkled her nose. "I smell like the animal tent at the
circus." She stood and pulled the shirt over her head; there were
also sweat marks on her bra and rivulets running down between her
breasts. As she pushed her shorts down and stepped out of them, she
saw what I had been reading and grinned.
"Interesting pictures, aren't they? Have you ever done that?
Screwed a girl in the ass?" She knew perfectly well I hadn't. For
that matter, except for each other, we were both still virgins.
"I wonder what it really feels like. . . ." She unhooked her bra
and dropped it with her shorts and socks on the floor. We were so
casual now about undressing in front of each other, I was aware of
her increasing nudity only peripherally.
"Wanna join me?" I looked up as she pushed down her panties,
managing to wiggle twice as much as necessary to get out of them.
At 16 she was already becoming wise in the ways of seducing a man.
But she'd had more practice with a more appreciative audience than
most of her girlfriends. Why not? I thought. We were sharing
showers pretty regularly, now; it was nice to have someone scrub
your back for you and to do it for them. And wet, slippery bodies
were fun for other reasons.
"Yeah, okay." I stood and shucked off the jams I usually wore
around the house in hot weather. Alex was already headed out the
door and I noticed that the sweat coursing down her back was now
continuing over the swell of her ass.
When I arrived in the bathroom a few seconds later she was
already filling it up with steam. Alex loved very hot showers --
she claimed it opened up her pores so she could scrub the dirt off
easier. She swung open the door and looked over her shoulder
expectantly. I was right behind her and I stood back out of the
spray as she rotated under the shower head, arms upstretched, the
water ricocheting off her head.
It was a big shower stall, completely tiled in white; it had
been installed by the previous owner for reasons we didn't know. It
was almost the size of an elevator car and could probably hold six
or eight adults if they knew each other real well. Who knows, maybe
it had. But it was certainly large enough for two people and for
most activities they might invent, as we had long since discovered.
The shower head was set high up on one wall and was the kind that
provided a variety of pulsations and fineness of spray. That could
be fun, too.
Alex backed up to me and flipped her wet hair back over her
head. She always did that, but I always closed my eyes in time so
I no longer got whipped across the eyeballs.
"Do me?" This was the routine we had settled into. I soaped her
back (and often her front) and then she soaped mine (and ditto).
Often that was all that occurred -- just a companionable shower
together. Since we were nearly always available to each other, the
sexual pressure had become controllable. But it was always there,
waiting, when we wanted it to emerge.
I squirted the bottle of her favorite decadent bath soap across
the top of her shoulder blades and began rubbing my hands briskly
over her smooth, muscular back. Up over her shoulders, a pause to
massage her neck muscles (she purred when I did that), up and down
her sides as she raised her arms. I liked the feel of her rib cage
under my soapy fingers. Up under the angle of her shaved armpits,
back down her arms, which she now held out behind her. She
stretched and arched her back a little and sighed with pleasure.
This was often almost as good as sex to her. Another squirt of soap
across her lower back, then my hands were spread out over her ass,
squeezing a little (she expected it), then moving around the sides
of her hips to run my fingers over her pelvic bones. Then she
turned around and I saw the glow in her eyes that meant she didn't
want this to be a quick shower, just to get clean.
More soap across her collarbone while she stood with her head
tilted back, neck arched, breasts out-thrust. Her nipples were
erect. My hands moved across her shoulders again. Her eyes were
shut against the soap but she smiled as I took her by the throat
and slid my hand up and down beneath her chin. An old joke: I had
once pretended to strangle her in the shower while making sound
effects from _Psycho._ I ran my hands across her flat, tight
diaphragm and stomach and then down her sides again to her hips. My
cock was half-erect as I pulled her closer to me.
She clasped her hands behind my neck and we kissed quietly for
a few seconds before she disengaged.
"Not yet," she whispered.
Now it was my turn. She turned me around and rubbed soap across
my shoulders and my back, down my sides, and across my ass -- which
she also squeezed (because I also expected it). Then she did
something different. Running her finger slowly down the crack
between my cheeks, which by itself made me shiver, she pressed her
middle finger against my anus. It startled me for a moment but my
cock instantly sprang to full attention. Her nails were forever
breaking off and at the moment that particular fingernail was
trimmed back short. She pressed her body against my back and pushed
her finger about one joint deep into my ass, and wiggled it back
and forth. The sensation was incredibly sexy. I knew I had no
homosexual urges, but I wondered if this was what it felt like to
be fucked.
"Like it?" she whispered over my shoulder.
"Umm-hmmm! When you do it," I qualified.
"You know those magazines? The ass-fucking? I want to try that!"
She wiggled her finger again and then pulled it out.
"Are you sure?" I wasn't sure I wanted to do this, not to my
sister. I certainly didn't want to hurt her and anal sex looked
like it could be pretty painful, especially the first time. I told
her that in a hesitant tone.
"If it hurts too much, we'll stop. Besides, I know you wouldn't
hurt me on purpose." One of her hands had wrapped itself around my
cock and was squeezing a little and stroking a little. Her other
hand clutched her own crotch and I could see one finger busily
stroking her clit. She was determined to push us both into this.
"C'mon, please? Haven't you wondered what it would feel like to
fuck a girl up the ass? Especially me? Don't you want to fuck your
sister in the ass?" Well, she was right about that. And when such
blunt language came out of that sweet little face it usually had
the effect she desired. I turned her around to face the wall that
had a porcelain rod in it and lifted her hands toward it.
Alex bent forward, gasping a little and gripped the rod with
both hands. I knew my sister. She had really gotten herself worked
up thinking about this. She bent her back even more as she spread
her feet a little apart on the slick tile and cocked her ass
upward.
"Put it . . . in! I want to feel it going up my ass -- I really
do! I can imagine it but I want to feel it! Please -- put it in!"
Her head was swinging from side to side and her wet, cascading hair
swished.
I reached up to the shelf above the shower head and grabbed a
jar of skin-softener. I had used it occasionally to masturbate
with, for extra lubrication. Scooping out a handful of the cream,
I slathered it up and down my cock, which twitched in anticipation.
Then I pushed my slippery middle finger up into her rectum as far
as I could reach -- three inches or more. It was snug, tight, but
I could fit. Alex gasped once and sucked in through her teeth. Her
ass trembled and her sphincter tightened around my finger, trying
to pull it out of joint. My god, what was this going to be like?!
I slid my finger out and maneuvered the head of my cock into
position, pressing against her puckered anus. Slowly, carefully, I
began pushing into her. She gasped louder and her knuckles on the
wall rod tightened. I paused; I didn't want to hurt her, no matter
how much we both wanted to do this.
"No-- It's all right! Go on, go on!" She shivered in the steamy
shower and I could feel the motion in my cock. I held her hips and
pushed forward harder. My cock slid upward, inward without
stopping. In another moment it was completely buried. My pubic hair
seemed to sprout from between her cheeks and my balls were pressed
against the space between her cunt and her asshole. I moved my cock
in and out a fraction of an inch, just to see if I could. So tight!
It felt like I was being swallowed by a suction pump. Alex was
breathing rapidly and moaning.
"Does it hurt?" I asked anxiously.
"A little -- no -- it feels so good -- oh -- shit -- oh -- it
feels huge! Bigger than it ever did the other way! Oh -- God --
fuck me, fuck me!"
As I began pulling it out halfway and pushing it back up into
her, I felt myself come just a little. No, not yet! I want all of
this first! But the small amount of cum just increased the
lubrication in the depths of her ass and made it easier for me to
pump back and forth.
Alex was gasping and breathing loudly in rhythm with my pumping,
just as she did when my cock was ramming in and out of her cunt.
Her cunt was always nice and tight, but her ass was fantastic! The
inner surface of her was smooth and soft but those shit-pushing
muscles were strong. When I pushed into her, she, without thinking
about it, pushed back; when I pulled back for the next stroke, her
muscles tried to grasp my cock even more tightly. It was the most
erotic sensation I had ever felt.
I couldn't see them, but I knew her breasts were swinging back
and forth. I wanted badly to reach around and squeeze them, but if
I gave up my pelvic clutch we'd land on the hard tile floor. I
interrupted my pace, pulling out almost all the way and then
cramming my cock back into her as hard as I could. My balls slapped
against her ass. She gave a louder cry and arched her head
backward.
"Oh -- ah -- I love your cock up in me -- it's so big I feel
like I'm popping! Oh -- it's good, it's good -- shit -- keep --
fucking me -- don't -- stop!"
Sweat was running off my forehead and my hair, the soap was
getting in my eyes, and I didn't care. I could feel the pressure
building and there was no way I could stop, even if either of us
wanted me to. I squeezed my sister's hips to signal her that my
climax was on its way.
"Yes -- me too -- I'm there! -- oh -- shit -- that's -- so
good!"
I increased speed, gasping as loudly as she did. And then I
came, in great, shuddering, shocking contractions. I tried
unconsciously to push into her even farther as I ejected millions
of sperm into her lower intestine. I almost laughed at that
unbidden thought, but I was lightheaded and gasping for breath. Now
her sphincter was rapidly dilating and tightening, and that helped
the ejaculations to go on and on, longer than ever before. From the
hoarse, throaty sounds Alex was making I knew she was climaxing
with me. God, was there ever a feeling like this?
Alex's grip on the wall rod was loosening. She was so out of it
from her own multiple climaxes, I was afraid she might smash her
face on the tile wall. I got my arms around her hips as she began
to slide downward, and I slid with her, both of us panting loudly.
Her ass was pressed against my groin and she was still impaled on
my cock. We somehow landed on the bottom of the shower stall
without hurting ourselves. She was face-down with her cheek
cushioned on her wrist, gulping the hot, steamy air. I was lying on
top of her, also struggling to get my heart rate down, supporting
most of my weight on my shaking arms. If my elbows unlocked, we'd
both crash. My cock was still buried to its root in her rectum. The
passage was still so snug it had no room to contract. And I was
content to leave it there awhile longer.
What finally brought us around, rousing us out of our half-
swoon, was the water. It was getting colder and the steam was
disappearing. I had no idea how long we had fucked or how long we
had lain on the floor, but it was long enough to use up all the hot
water. I had sunk down on my elbows -- my arms could never have
lasted that long -- and slowly withdrew from Alex's fantastic
asshole.
"Ohhhhh . . . ." She moaned softly, perhaps feeling the loss. I
leaned over and kissed her lingeringly at the base of her spine. So
beautiful, my sister, so filled with me for however long it had
been. It's your decision, but I think we'll do it again.
I sat back on my heels so the now icy water splashed off her
back. My reaction to the change had been gradual; her's was
electric. She gasped at the shock, her green eyes snapped open, and
she struggled to get to her knees and then to her feet. I stood up,
still a bit shaky myself, and helped her. It took a minute, but
then she deliberately stepped back under the water and rinsed the
sweat out of her hair. She turned slowly in position, combing her
fingers through the dark red strands, while I stood and watched.
God, I loved her.
She saw my expression and her peculiar sense of humor got the
better of her. She smiled and stepped back to me, hooking one arm
around my neck. With her other hand, she took my hand and slipped
it, palm up, between her slightly parted thighs. She can't possibly
want to screw again, I thought. She brought my mouth down to hers
and kissed me. I stroked my hand back between her legs, delighting
still in the smooth, wet flesh and the curly hair brushing my
wrist. And then she tapped the tip of her little red tongue against
my front teeth, pressed her thighs closer together, and pissed in
my hand!
That's how well we understood each other -- that she could do
something that crude at such an emotional moment and know that I
would be amused. The cold shower splashed off my shoulders while my
cupped hand filled with her warm urine, and I cackled at the joke.
Here, now, under these circumstances, it *was* funny! I extricated
my hand, trying to hold on to some of the pale yellow liquid, while
she grinned mischievously. I squeezed her cheeks -- not roughly --
to force her mouth open while she squealed and tried to bat my hand
away.
"I ought to dribble this down your throat, you know. But I'm a
nice guy so I won't." Instead, I trickled it across her breasts.
"You can have it back," I added. "You might run out!"
* * * * *
I had to stay late at school one September day that year,
working on a project for journalism, so I was in a hurry to get
home. So I didn't stop at the restroom before I left, and by the
time I reached the house, I had to take a piss so badly I was
walking knock-kneed. I got halfway down the downstairs hall and
that the bathroom door was closed -- Mother must be in there --
made a U-turn and hurried upstairs. I dropped my books in the hall
and charged into the upstairs bathroom, already struggling with my
zipper.
Alex looked up startled from the toilet seat, her jeans around
her ankles and her shirt rucked up around her waist. I moaned.
"What's your problem?" she wanted to know.
"I can't wait!" I was fishing out my cock. "I'll have to use the
shower stall!"
"Hey, wait! There's room here. . . ." She spread her legs wider
and slid back a little on the toilet seat. "Just aim between my
legs, for chrissake."
I didn't hesitate. I stepped in front of her, trying not to get
my feet tangled in her pants, pointed my cock at the front slope of
the bowl, and let go. In my effort to control the high-pressure
yellow stream, I aimed too far forward and managed to splash both
myself and my sister's legs.
She threw up her hands in surprise. "Watch it, Michael! Here,
gimme that. . . ." She reached forward and took my cock in her hand
like she was milking a cow, and pulled me forward. I had to let go
of it and quickly support myself on her shoulders to keep from
falling on her. She used both hands to pull me to within a few
inches of her pussy and grinned up at me. My cock was engorged with
internal pressure and completely filled both her hands. "You can
lead a horse to water," she laughed.
The golden stream just went on and on. She watched speculatively
and then aimed closer to her crotch. The spray was now wetting the
outer part of her bush.
"What are you doing, Alex? Do you want me to piss on you?"
"I dunno, I've never tried it. Might be fun as an experiment,
though." Alex would try almost anything at least once, and, these
days, the more unusual the better. She hadn't bitten off some guy's
penis or fucked a Great Dane (as far as I knew), but otherwise I
suspected her taboo list was pretty short. I finally finished
draining the tank and took my cock back so I could make sure it got
the customary final shake, and tucked in back in my slacks. Alex
looked pleased at the strange look I gave her as I left the
bathroom.
What I didn't know was that one of Alex's girl friends had a
brother in college who belonged to a fraternity that claimed to own
the largest lending library of pornographic books and magazines in
the state. The brother was presently interested in fringe erotica,
having apparently become bored with standard fuck-and-suck scenes,
and Alex and her friend had been spending some time in his absence
evaluating photos of bestiality, bondage, spanking, enemas, ass-
fucking, and erotic urination -- "golden showers." Why my sister
was turned on by this particular sexual variation I had no idea.
Her interest soon waned -- rather, it found new outlets, some of
them equally bizarre -- but it sure led us to some interesting
experiences.
I should probably add that I had no theoretical objection to any
of this. I was as fascinated by some types of sexual
experimentation as Alex was. I drew the line at anything involving
shit, however. Happily, she agreed with me. But some of our water
games during that few weeks had very erotic overtones.
Perhaps some of this started because Alex and I enjoyed sharing
a hot shower. Hot water, steam, soap, shampoo, and two slippery
bodies in a relatively confined space can be a very big turn-on, as
we had discovered at an early age. Occasionally, the sight of
running water would have its effect on me when I closed the shower
door, and instead of getting out again, wet, to use the toilet, I
would simply piss down the shower drain. Alex began to do the same
thing, squatting over the drain. Then she learned to do it standing
up -- bending her knees, jutting out her crotch, and holding her
labia open while raising her aim by pushing upward at the base of
her clit.
On another evening, she came into the bathroom in her tee shirt
and panties while I was on the toilet preparing to take a shit. She
quickly dropped her pants, pushed my knees apart, and sat on my lap
facing me, a leg on each side. Then she leaned backward, pulled me
forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and stuck her long tongue
in my mouth while her urine hissed between my thighs into the bowl
below. She had decided it wasn't the act of urination she found
sexy, but performing in front of someone else. It was crude, and
that was erotic.
Boys and men are used to lining up at urinals in public rest
rooms and exposing their genitals, even though social custom
prohibits eye contact, much less staring. But women's rest rooms
come equipped with private stalls. The same is generally true of
most school locker rooms and showers. I had even witnessed a jerk-
off "duel" between two well-endowed jocks. On Alex's report, the
girls in the school locker room were usually pretty modest -- or
nervous, or embarrassed -- about their bodies. They didn't often
stroll around naked . . . with a few outstanding exceptions who
flaunted their assets (puns intended).
From the beginning of puberty, Alex was unusually casual about
nudity, at least in my presence. She knew I found her extremely
desirable -- I made no secret of it -- and she never even
considered the possibility that she could be raped by her brother.
In that she was fortunate, because I never considered it either. I
could and would seduce her, but I could never force her beyond her
current limit. Physically, I probably could have -- but
psychologically, it was never a possibility.
When it came to water sports, . . . well, I doubt I would ever
have suggested it myself, but as it turned out, I was willing to
play along. The fact that she seduced me in this case made the
experience more erotic for both of us. And she knew what she
wanted.
About a week after the encounter at the toilet, she came in hot
and sweaty from jogging. I had spent the afternoon laboring over a
term paper. I was drinking glass after glass of iced tea, and my
bladder was filling up rapidly, but I kept putting off a needed
break to go to the bathroom. The thoughts and the words were
flowing, I was on a creative roll, and I didn't want to break my
train of thought for even the two or three minutes a bathroom break
would require. Alex puffed into the room just as I finished a page
and paused to drain another glass of tea.
My sister has always had a special talent for sizing up a
person, a problem, or a situation almost instantly. She knew where
I was headed the moment I finally stood up from the typewriter. I
turned toward the door but Alex, shoes and socks already off, was
on me in an instant -- literally. She clasped her fingers behind my
head and kissed me, hard. I tasted the salt sweat on her lips and
I felt her soaked running shirt pressing her sweat through my own
tee shirt. She stuck her tongue in my ear -- always a guaranteed
turn-on for me -- and whispered "No, don't go to the bathroom! I
need a shower, and I need you full of piss!"
She quickly unsnapped my cutoffs and pushed them to the floor
before I registered what she was saying. She gripped my still limp
cock like a pump handle and squeezed it hard enough to make me
aware of it. I trusted my sister not to injure me, but I had no
real idea what was happening. With her other hand she almost
frantically pushed her running shorts and panties to the floor,
stepped out of them, and then moved even closer to me. My cock was
beginning to throb again as she stood on tiptoe and thrust it
between her thighs -- not into her cunt, but across it, clasped
between her steaming thighs so that the tip of my penis poked out
behind, below her ass. Her thigh muscles flexed and the sensation
turned my cock into a pulsating, quivering column of lust. She put
her arms around my waist, pressing her groin more tightly against
mine, and leaned back a little so she could look directly into my
eyes.
She was aroused, as well, and her voice came out husky and
demanding. "Come with me, you goddam, beautiful, sister-fucker! I
want you! Now!"
She stepped up on the tops of my feet and tried to grip the
front of my ankles with her toes, like thong sandals. I reached
down over her hips and her extra elevation allowed me to grip her
ass cheeks in both hands without bending over. I could barely reach
the tip of my penis with one hand, behind her, but I took hold of
the glans and pulled it up more snugly against her hot, damp cunt.
Then we carefully made out way out the bedroom door and down the
hall the few yards to the bathroom in that peculiar but exciting
position, both of us naked below waist, clamped together by her
thigh grip on my penis. When we arrived, we pulled off each other's
shirts and Alex ripped off her sports bra. She opened her thighs
then, but immediately grasped my cock tightly in her strong,
slender hand and tugged me toward the shower, eyes dilated with
open lust. Being led around by your cock by a beautiful, sexually
aroused teenage girl is one of those experiences that burns into
your memory for life.
But there was another internal pressure competing with my
gonads. I had drunk a lot of iced tea and when Alex turned on the
shower it reminded me immediately that I really had to take a piss.
I was beginning to develop a cramp in my groin, but when I
protested to Alex she said "Not yet!" and squeezed a little harder,
drawing me closer and rubbing the tip of my cock against her flat
stomach. In a few seconds, when the water had gotten hot and the
steam was raising new sweat on both of us, she angled the shower
head away and knelt in front of me. She sat back on her heels,
spread her thighs, and arched her back -- her most provocative pose
and she knew I loved it.
"Michael, I want you to pee on me. Piss all over me, head to
foot! I want to feel it running down my tits, I want you to splash
it on my back and my ass! Go slow, don't just squirt it all at
once. I'm getting even hornier just talking about it!"
I had read enough by know to suspect that water sports were a
kind of erotic punishment game, like bondage. Well, this wasn't
going to hurt anyone and if Alex was going through a weird stage --
weird even for us -- I could accommodate her. "Better close your
eyes," I suggested.
She squeezed her eyes shut, closed her lips tightly, and tilted
her head far back. I let go with a bright yellow stream that hit
the center of her breast bone; it splashed all over her torso,
running down her breasts and trickling off her rigid nipples. She
gasped at the first shock and then began rubbing the warm liquid
over her body, under her arms, down her thighs. I controlled the
stream as best I could, to make the experience last as long as
possible. She inhaled the acrid aroma and whimpered huskily in her
throat. She was obviously enjoying this. God help me, I was
enjoying it, too -- and what did that say about my own
psychological state?
I circled slowly around her, holding my penis squeezed shut to
regulate the flow. I drew a piss line down her spine, neck to ass,
and she shivered as it flowed down between her cheeks. "In my hair,
. . . my face . . . ," she murmured. My bladder was finally running
low, so -- still playing the punishment game -- I took two fistfuls
of her wet, tangled hair and tugged her head further back. Not
enough to hurt her, of course, but enough to create the illusion of
threat and control. Her throaty whimper had a strong sensual edge
and she didn't resist. As the last of my urine flowed through her
dark red hair she shampooed it in, piling her hair up and wrapping
it around my cock. A Freudian image if I ever saw one. The golden
liquid ran in a sheet across her forehead and trickled off her
tightly shut eyelids and the end of her nose and the tip of her
chin.
When my supply ran out and I stepped back, she stood shakily,
still rubbing my body fluids into her smooth skin. She picked up a
washcloth and wiped only the area around her eyes and nose; from
her lips down, she still glistened aromatically. She pressed her
body close to mine and rubbed herself against me. She pulled my
mouth down and fastened hers to it in a long, slow lip-sucking
kiss. The smell of my own fresh urine filled my nostrils; it was
surprisingly erotic, at least under these circumstances. I found
myself being pushed firmly to my knees and I slid my hands down her
back, over the swell of her ass, and down the backs of her thighs.
When my head reached the level of her waist, she suddenly moved her
hands to her pussy and spread and lifted its lips -- and before I
realized what she intended, a strong stream of her warm, fragrant
piss splashed against my chest, ran down my body, and dribbled off
my cock and my balls.
I sat back on my heels and looked up at my sister's grinning
face . . . and began to laugh. We loved each other more than
anything else in the world, and here we were, urinating on each
other. Erotic it might be, but it was also pretty silly. Alex began
to laugh, too, and quickly ended on the floor of the shower,
engulfed in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. The more we thought
about what we were doing, the funnier it became, and the more we
howled. It took us a few minutes to run down, and then we were both
under the hot shower, soaping and shampooing each other -- but a
glance at each other's faces and we were again whooping helplessly
with laughter.
Soaping each other's bodies in the shower always made us feel
close, physically and mentally, even when neither of us was really
in need of a fuck. Many times, we simply held each other, took
turns massaging shoulder and neck muscles, and cuddled. And that's
how it turned out this afternoon. Neither of us was embarrassed by
our earlier activities. Amused, yes, but we had long ago accepted
each other in all things. So we kissed affectionately, and Alex
nuzzled my throat with her nose, and I nibbled her earlobe.
Finally, I was leaning against the title, my sister's arms
linked loosely around my waist, her head leaning on my collarbone.
She sighed contentedly as I untangled her wet hair by combing my
fingers through it. My cock was almost completely limp -- that's
how relaxed and happy and unhurried I felt. She looked up at me
with a glowing smile. "You put with a lot from me, don't you?"
I looked back into her green eyes and thought about how lucky I
was. I combed her hair back behind her ears. "Sometimes . . ." I
hugged her again. "And I intend to continue putting up with you for
many, many years. I wouldn't be worth a bucket of piss without you,
Alex. . . ." I had to work hard to keep my voice level as I said
it. Alex instantly cracked up with laughter and slapped the flat of
her hand not too gently against my chest. Then she reached up and
kissed me again, still laughing behind her lips.
"Michael -- I love you so much! What would I have done if I were
an only child? Life would be so lonely and boring, . . .
especially in the shower!" she added.
===============================================================
Copyright 1993 Michael K. Smith. For personal use and posting
on other electronic venues. All commercial rights reserved.
===============================================================
Subject: Siblings: Chapter 10
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
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.
===============================================================
Subject: "Connie" (from "Siblings," chapter 11)
From Chap 11 of the "Siblings" novel; set 1977; he's 22, she's 21.
Some minor correcting and rewriting for continuity has been done
since this section was first posted....]
CONNIE
Midway through my first year of graduate study at Berkeley, a
paper I had submitted was accepted to be read at the June
conference of the Western Social Sciences Association in San Diego.
I was excited and Alex was happy for me, too; in our eyes, anything
one of us did reflected equally on the other. But when June
arrived, Alex had her hands full revising her senior thesis so she
could graduate that summer, and I had to fly down alone. I've
never sought out crowds, but neither do I particularly enjoy
traveling by myself. If a place is worth visiting at all, it's
probably an experience worth sharing with someone else. Well, what
the hell, I could manage two days, I thought -- but I wouldn't
bother with the beach or Balboa Park.
A couple hours after leaving Oakland International, I stood near
the end of a long, serpentine queue before the front desk of the
conference hotel, trying to calculate how long it would be before
I could relax in my room. An hour at least, maybe two. The line
shifted a bit and I picked up my overnighter and my attache case,
took one step forward, and set them down again. I sighed and let
my vision drift out of focus, but a tinkling, elfin laugh just in
front of me brought my attention back.
I had paid no attention to the girl ahead of me in line and I
realized now it was partly because the top of her head barely
reached my chin. I had looked right over her head and sighed
practically in her ear!
As she turned and grinned up at me over her shoulder, her silky
black hair, cut in a medium-length pageboy, shone with reflected
light from the lobby chandeliers. Her face looked as smooth and
flawless as translucent porcelain the shade of sandalwood or
cinnamon. The longest, thickest lashes I had ever seen -- I knew
intuitively they were genuine -- shaded a pair of black-brown
elliptical eyes so hypnotically ancient and deep their twinkle
seemed incongruous. Her small mouth was enhanced by brilliant red
lipstick. She wore a straw-colored linen suit over a white silk
blouse, both businesslike and alluring. I took in all this in less
than a second.
"Maybe we'll have to sleep here in the lobby tonight," she
laughed. Her voice was bell-like but included a nameless quality
that I was sure would grab any man by the throat, the heart, and
the balls, all at the same moment. No accent, either, so she
wasn't an exchange student (I took it for granted, on no evidence
at all, that this tiny beauty wouldn't be a faculty member
somewhere.)
Without her two-inch heels I guessed she couldn't be taller than
4'10", but she was so properly proportioned that she seemed not
short but doll-like. A cliche, I know, but even cliches are
founded in truth.
She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and tilted her head
quizzically. I was suddenly aware of my loosely drooping jaw and
the fact that I was staring down at her. I could feel the flush
rising above my collar.
"Uh, yeah -- I mean, they'll, uh.... I'm sorry -- I sound like
an idiot." I swallowed and tried to regroup my scattered thoughts.
"Let me try again," I apologized. The twinkle in her eye was
brighter; she *knows* she has this effect on men, I thought. "I
think it's going to take another hour, at least, to get to the
front of this line, and I don't think we're likely to lose our
places." Only two other registrants stood behind us.
I made a joking half-bow. "Would you allow me to buy you a
drink so we can wait this out in comfort?" Because it's
unexpected, that sort of formality frequently gets a woman's
attention.
"You've got a deal!" We parked our bags behind the velvet
retaining rope at one side of the lobby, walked into the bar, and
took a small table in the quieter area at the back. As I held her
chair for her, I belatedly introduced myself.
She held out a small, elegantly manicured hand and I took it
carefully. "I'm Connie Liang, University of Hawaii." Her palm was
cool and satiny. I'm only a bit above average size, but this lady
made me feel like a 280 lb. linebacker.
Her surname was obviously Chinese, but she appeared to be a more
exotic blend of Japanese, southeast Asian, Polynesian, and probably
a little European. A typically Hawaiian background, in other
words. We chatted over a couple of bottles of Harp and she told me
she about the graduate work she was doing in social anthropology.
She was also in San Diego to read a paper. From remarks she made
I re-estimated her age upward; she had to be a year or two older
than I was. Her voice was wonderfully musical and I resolved to
attend her session, regardless of the subject, just to hear her
read.
After a little while, I rose and peered out at the lobby. The
line was down to almost no one now, so I paid the tab and we
retrieved our bags and checked in. Connie was on the 10th Floor
and I was on the 11th.
On the way up in the empty elevator, Connie mentioned with
elaborate casualness that she thought she might just go down to the
pool deck on the 5th Floor and "splash around a little." I caught
her calculating sidelong glance and allowed as how I might just do
the same thing. She flashed me what I hoped was a promising smile
as she got off at her floor.
During the few seconds between the 10th and 11th Floors, all by
myself in the car, I had an sudden, unnerving conviction that Alex
was standing beside me. The feeling was so strong I actually
turned my head to ask her how she had gotten there -- and as I did,
she vanished, leaving behind an amused chuckle, like the Cheshire
Cat. Her voice whispered in the back of my skull. "Michael, don't
worry about it ... have fun, enjoy yourself! I won't be angry.
Don't you know me any better than that?"
Yes, I did know her better than that. All the years we were
growing up together, learning about love and sex together, we were
nevertheless out there dating other people and sampling
considerable sexual variety.
I learned early not to be jealous when my sister quietly slipped
in from a late date radiating a lingering orgasmic flush, or when
she rinsed some guy's semen out of her mouth with ginger ale. Nor
was she anything but pleased when I came home with my zipper still
half-open and my fingers smelling of another girl's cunt. Often
she wound up in my bed or I in hers, sharing our experiences and
still aroused and primed by the evening's adventures. I must be
feeling guilty, I thought. Weird. Why should I feel I'm betraying
my sister just because I'm attracted to such a terrific girl?
Ridiculous. The elevator door slid open and I hurried down the
hall to my room, trying to remember if I had packed my swimming
trunks.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later I was walking out on the pool deck in a
polo shirt and my Hawaiian-print jams (good unintentional planning,
I thought), with a hotel bath towel draped artfully about my neck.
It was a half-hour till dusk, my favorite time for swimming and
beach- strolling, and there were only eight or ten other people
present, laughing and talking in two groups up at the shallow end.
Everyone else would be at dinner. I glanced around but didn't see
Connie. Either she'll come or she won't, I thought, and hung my
towel and shirt over the back of a deck chair.
I sat down on the pool curbing next to the diving board and
cautiously stuck one foot in the water. Great -- the pool was
heated! I glanced again at the glass doors; still no Connie. Ah,
well. I took a breath and pushed off into the deep end, headed
straight for the bottom.
When my feet touched the cement eight feet below, I crouched
down with my knees bent. I paused a few seconds, enjoying the null
gravity sensation. Then I uncoiled and shot myself back to the
surface, arms at my sides, arching over backward to smack my
shoulder blades against the water. My "humpback whale" trick, Alex
called it. Childish, probably, but half the fun of a swimming pool
is in not acting like an adult.
Then I heard that silvery laugh again, accompanied by a patter
of applause, and I looked up. Connie had arrived while I was
underwater. I splashed the few yards to the side of the pool and
hooked my elbow over the edge. She was wearing a one-piece smooth
silver suit (to go with the laugh, I thought inanely), cut in a
deep V almost to her navel, that contrasted sharply with her light
brown skin and black hair.
She knelt and tried not to giggle. "Tell me ... did you do that
on 'porpoise'?"
I rolled my eyes, groaned in the expected manner, and reached
out as if to grab her ankle and fling her into the pool. She
skipped back a few steps, grinning, and waved me farther away from
the diving board. She stepped onto the board, adopted a serious
expression, and shook out her fingers as if preparing for a
difficult dive.
As she paced out to the end, looking every bit an Olympian, I
saw that the back of her suit was scooped very wide and low; only
the thinnest of straps crossed vertically over her shoulders and
had the back been cut any lower she would have revealed a second
cleavage. There were no tan marks, of course, to spoil the gently
rippling surface of her upper body.
She took a precisely placed bounce on the end of the board and
I expected to see a 2-1/2 twist or something equally spectacular.
On the way up, she touched her pointed toes with her fingertips,
arms and legs absolutely straight -- a form obviously the result of
many hours of practice. But at the peak of her arc, she suddenly
tucked herself into a perfect, slowly spinning cannonball and hit
the surface of the water with a splash that caused a small tsunami
at the other end of the pool!
I pushed out to the end of the board and reached up for an
ape-hang as she paddled back from her point of impact. "I can't
think of a horrible pun just now," I grinned, "but I'll give that
one a 9.9!"
She reached me and rested a hand on my shoulder for buoyancy,
and I added in a softer voice, "And I have to give you a 10 just
for looking the way you do."
She smiled more intimately and ran her other hand across my
chest beneath the surface, pausing to trace a circle around each
nipple with a fingertip. "You're not so bad yourself, big boy."
Where did she get this dialogue? Well, I'd seen quite a few old
films myself. "I'll bet you say that to all the boys who are a
foot taller than you."
She nodded slightly in approval as if I had just passed a test.
"Speaking of 'taller', you might be standing on the bottom for all
I know, but my legs are getting tired." I doubted it.
"Want to get out of the pool?" I hoped not, not yet.
"No, it's too warm in here and too cold out there. Just let me
shift into my barnacle routine."
Her legs, which had been slowly scissor-kicking, slid up and
wrapped themselves around my right thigh. At the same time, she
twisted around to face me at an angle; now, one knee was pressed in
a friendly fashion against my crotch. In the water, her clinging
suit had become semi-transparent. I was very much aware of her
dark nipples erect beneath the cloth, especially since one was
being pressed firmly into my ribs. Even in the warm water, I could
feel my cock stirring.
Her left arm slipped around my back and her thumb hooked itself
casually over the waistband of my trunks. I steadied my grip on
the end of the diving board. I didn't care if my arm developed a
permanent cramp, I was attached to that board as long as Connie
wanted to stay in the pool.
I put my free arm around her and stroked my palm up and down the
smooth resiliency of her back, registering the subtle muscles that
come with regular swimming. Other muscles were shifting slightly
in her thighs and calves. There were other activities besides
swimming that this well-maintained body was expert at, I was sure.
My hand slid downward across the small of her back, past the
edge of her suit, and I paused and watched out of the corner of my
eye for her reaction. She squeezed my thigh between hers, so I
continued down over the curve of her small, firm ass. She brushed
her nose across the top of my chest and leaned in closer. My chest
was right at surface level and my nipples had hardened, both from
being in the water and from her previous attention to them. She
submerged a few more inches and fastened her lips around one
nipple, sucking as if it were a soda straw, while her hand moved
from my chest down to my abdomen. Connie's aggressive ideas of
foreplay were a revelation even to me, and the experience was very
arousing.
After several minutes of mutual stroking and caressing, she
climbed up and breathed into my ear, which produced a wave of
delightful shivers down my neck. "Why don't we move up toward the
other end?" she whispered.
I watched the last of the other pool inhabitants gathering up
towels and sandals and strolling back into the building. It was
full dusk now, and the pool's underwater lights had come on, but
they weren't too bright.
"Sounds good to me," I replied.
Connie adoitly unwrapped herself and headed for the four-foot
marker with long, powerful strokes. After a few moments of
stretching my abused left arm, I set out after her.
When I arrived, she had her back to the pool wall and her legs
spread wide. "C'mere," she said softly. As I moved in and put my
arms around her torso, she wrapped her legs loosely around my waist
and hooked her wrists behind my neck. Her kiss was long and
sensuous, accompanied by rhythmic movements of her crotch against
my groin.
Alex and I nearly always moved to each other by mutual but
unspoken consent, we had been together so long. Connie's
aggressive style of sex play was new to me and I found it
exhilerating.
I gripped both cheeks of her perfect ass and pressed her harder
to me. She raised herself up a little and I attempted to suck her
nipples out through the surface of her suit. She grabbed a shock
of my hair in her teeth and tugged my head up, then wiggled her
tongue between her lips in invitation. She was expecting a deep
kiss, but instead I grabbed her tongue with my lips, as I had done
her nipples a moment before, and sucked. I was trying to match her
"surprise" style of foreplay by making it up as I went along -- and
with that move I succeeded.
Her dark eyes widened. She wrapped both arms around my head,
crushed her mouth hard against mine, and strained to push her
surprisingly long tongue down my throat. She growled a little and
both our mouths vibrated. Her thighs tightened around my waist and
I wondered in passing if I would end up with a cracked vertebra.
She mashed her crotch so hard against my cock I was certain I could
feel the lips of her cunt on either side of it, even through both
our suits.
After a few minutes of convulsive dry-humping she seemed to
regain her senses enough to realize that I was becoming very short
of breath. She loosened her scissor-grip and pulled her head back
to stare into my eyes. Her lips were parted and her lipstick was
smeared all over her mouth. She continued to grasp and tug and
release my hair with both hands.
"Oh, you're beautiful! Where have you been all my life?" Her
voice shook a little.
Another cliche, but this time I had an answer. "I've been
waiting to meet a water sprite, and here you are," I replied. I
combed my fingers back through that shining black hair. "If you're
planning to lure me away to the bottom of the sea, I'm ready to
go."
Connie was regaining control of her voice now. "How's your
room? Single or double occupant?"
"Just me and a double bed," I replied.
"Then I think we ought to get in out of this cool breeze. For
our health. And my bed's King-size."
I hadn't been paying attention to the weather, but she was
right. The cool San Diego night breeze was giving me goosebumps.
I waded on up the slope of the shallow end and went carefully up
the steps; Connie still had her arms and legs wrapped around me.
She was so small I could have carried her back to the room that
way, but I didn't want to risk running into some senior faculty
member with a beautiful girl plastered across my front like bronze
armor.
She must have had the same thought because she suddenly let go
of me, landing perfectly poised and reaching for her towel. I was
certain now that she must be a gymnast as well as a swimmer and
diver: Every move she made, every step she took, was so
effortlessly graceful. I doubted that she had ever stumbled or
tripped in her life. I admired her as much as I lusted for her.
We kissed again in the elevator between floors until an older
couple got on. Then we stood silently in the back of the car,
Connie in front of me. I was running my open hands over her ass
while she reached back to caress my cock through my trunks. We
both squirmed but neither of us made a sound.
When we got off at the 10th Floor, Connie looked up and down the
hall, saw no one, and immediately pinned me to the wall with her
body. I assumed she was going to kiss me again and I began to lean
down, but instead she stuck out her tongue and painted a wet stripe
up the front of my throat, Adam's apple to chin. She giggled and
trotted away up the corridor while I stood frozen by the burning
mark. I had to hurry to catch up. Nobody had ever better take
*this* woman for granted, I thought.
Inside the room, Connie's first move was to lock and bolt the
door. I flicked on the overhead light but she turned it off again
and switched on only the small bedside reading lamp. Now it was
private and dim. She pushed me gently back to sit on the edge of
the bed. Then she spread her knees and sat astride my lap, leaning
back on her heels so she could scan my face. I put my hands along
the sides of her damp thighs to balance her, and she played with
the hairs on the backs of my wrists. Her expression had become
serious.
"Michael, you seem like a sweet guy, not the sort to try to take
advantage of me." I raised an eyebrow and she smiled; who was
taking advantage of whom?
"I mean, I don't think you'd try to force yourself on me. So
I'm going to tell you some things up front that you ought to know
about me. First, I'm not as crazy as I sometimes act. I'm smart,
I'm successful at whatever I do, and I'm on my way up in my field.
I do act silly when I feel like it, and today I just kinda feel
like it.
"Second, I like sex -- no, I *adore* it. I enjoy acting sexy,
by myself or with a man -- if I like him. I sure like you. I
guess I'm just a sensual person. But that doesn't mean I'm an easy
lay; no one carves another notch on his cock with me! I've had two
serious love affairs in the past five or six years and perhaps a
dozen one- or two-night stands. I even made it with a complete
stranger once -- spur of the moment, fifteen minutes of fantasy,
bam, and I'm gone. But I'm usually very picky; it's been more than
two months since I fucked a guy and a couple weeks since I even
kissed anyone. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I think you're saying," I replied, "that you'd like to spend
some time with me -- I hope you will -- but that it's your choice
to make." I shrugged. "Well, it always is, isn't it? The woman's
choice, I mean." I patted her legs lightly in what I hoped was a
reassuring gesture.
"Connie, I like women, almost all women, beautiful or not. And
I respect them -- if that makes any sense right now. Rape is not
my thing. Seduction, maybe, but that's a game, and both sides take
their chances; if it comes out right, nobody loses. I think *I'm*
the one who's being seduced this time, and I don't mind at all. We
don't know each other well enough yet for you to tell the
difference between my brand of flattery and the honest truth -- but
I tell you honestly and truthfully that you are one of the most
absolutely beautiful and desirable women it's even been my good
fortune to meet. We'll play by your rules, I promise."
I took her by the shoulders and began to bring her within
kissing range, but she stopped me. "Third," she said. I waited.
"I hate to hurt the man I'm with as much as I love having fun
with him, as long as it lasts. I've been in love twice, or I
thought I was, and both of us were hurt each time it ended. I'm
not fool enough to think anyone can predict that they will or won't
fall in love, and I don't believe in 'love at first sight' anyway."
I could see some painful memories behind her infinitely dark eyes.
"If I get involved with a guy, for a few weeks or even a few
hours, I won't run around on him. I don't mind a little
*temporary* possessiveness in a man -- in fact, I take it as a
compliment. I can be possessive, too!" She flashed another smile.
"But I understand the difference between sex-for-mutual-pleasure
and real love. A couple of the guys I've had flings with have
become friends even without the sex; they recognized when that
relationship ended and became something else, and they accepted
it." She took my face in her hands and looked at me with an
expression that begged me to understand.
"Don't decide you're in love with me, okay? I don't *want* to
be in love, not now. If it happens, it happens, but I don't want
anyone getting hurt!"
I took her hands and kissed them, and tried to match her
earnestness. "Connie, I have a girlfriend back in Berkeley. We've
known each other and lived together for a long time, and we love
each other very much. We're not married, but I think of her as my
other half. In fact, I was a little depressed when she couldn't
come down here with me -- until I met you in the registration
line." Her eyebrows rose another fraction.
"You just now laid it on the line for me, in advance of anything
that might happen between us," I continued, "just to be sure I
understood what was going on here. That's very unusual and it's
very honest. That girl back home owns my heart absolutely -- but
she's a very smart lady, too, and she knows from experience that
sex-for-fun is temporary, like a ferris wheel. You have fun for
awhile, you enjoy the ride, and then you go back home to the one
who loves you.
"She's gone round on the ferris wheel a few times herself, and
I always welcome her back with a smile and a kiss. Do you see? I
don't own her body -- I couldn't even if I wanted to -- but it
doesn't matter, because I know, absolutely *know*, that she loves
me. Neither she nor I has ever had anything to be jealous about."
I couldn't tell whether Connie quite believed I was telling her
the truth or not. "In my attache case over there is a copy of my
conference registration form, with my home phone number on it. If
you like, you can call her up and talk to her. Her name is Alex.
She's as different from you as the sun is from the moon, but she
enjoys sex, too, believe me. She might even make a few
suggestions."
Still sitting astride my lap and holding my hands, Connie just
looked at me for another minute. I could practically hear the
balance scales clink in her head as she weighed out the
possibilities. Then she smiled broadly, pushed me onto my back,
and began kissing and nibbling at my throat. I was glad she had
decided to believe me because what I'd told her was the truth.
"Your suit seems to have dried," I commented as I slid my hands
up and down her back. "But mine's getting clammy. How about first
things first?"
She rolled off, laughing, and I stood up and unknotted the
string at the front of my trunks. Connie bounced off the bed and
pushed my hands away.
"No, no, no! Let me do that; I enjoy unwrapping presents!"
Barefoot, she came only to the middle of my chest, but her arms
circled my waist and her hands slid down under my jams and squeezed
my ass. She knelt and pulled my trunks slowly down. When my
reanimated cock sprang up, she made clacking sounds with her teeth
and lunged playfully at it.
"Down, Toto, down!" I laughed. I hadn't meant it literally, but
she obediently lay on her back on the floor, arms outstretched,
legs slightly apart, her hair scattered around her face.
I stood over her, reached down, and slid the thin straps off her
shoulders. She raised her arms and I carefully pulled her bathing
suit away from her breasts and down to her hips, like peeling a
banana. She raised her legs straight upward, pointing her toes as
she had when she dived off the board. I worked the silver suit
quickly down her legs, untangled it from her ankles, and tossed it
on the bed. Then I simply stood and looked down at this perfect,
miniature Venus.
She saw the open admiration in my eyes and proceded to give me
the complete tour. Her breasts were small but in proportion to all
the rest of her, and they quivered firmly. She cupped them in her
hands, rubbed her dark brown nipples between her fingers, and
sighed. Her legs were still in the air; she spread them slowly and
curled her ass up a little. Her pubic hair formed a tiny black
rectangle ending just above her cunt. Her clit seemed as erect as
my cock, protruding from the cocoa folds of her labia.
She curled her body smoothly to one side and I stepped back out
of her way as she suddenly became a three-sided pyramid -- ass at
the apex, legs still stretched out, the tips of her toes digging
into the carpet, her back perfectly straight, arms cushioning her
head. She curled her toes inward and her tiny asshole opened
invitingly. Connie was exposing to me everything her body had to
offer, and the array of possibilities was impressive. Her small
frame, combined with her high degree of physical conditioning and
her obvious willingness to share it all with me, was making me
lightheaded.
Without conscious decision, I knelt between her slender,
perfectly turned legs and thrust my tongue into her cunt, flicking
it against her clit on the way in. She jerked slightly and I felt
her thighs quiver against my ears. I wrapped a hand around the
front of each knee, to balance her, and continued to stir my tongue
around in her bare little cunt, which was now beginning to drip
with her juices.
I remembered the wetness of her mouth on my throat, out in the
hall, and now my tongue moved slowly, wetly, from the bottom of her
cunt up toward her asshole. A girl like this would always be
absolutely clean, I was sure of it. As my tongue traveled the last
smooth brown inch between her legs she moaned softly and trembled
again.
When I reached the rim of her puckered anus I paused for a
moment, and not just to build the suspense. Rimming was something
I seldom did, and then only with Alex. I knew many women were
uneasy about it. Yet Connie hadn't stopped me; in fact her
quivering tautness convinced me this was something she would really
enjoy.
My tongue began tracing rings around the rim of the deepest
opening in her body and I could feel her heart rate increase and
her breathing become ragged. Then I plunged it as hard and as far
into her ass as I could, burying my face again and again between
her cheeks, and I could heard her half-sobs of passion. I became
aware of spasms ricocheting between her cunt and her ass as the
orgasm carried her away.
After a minute, I gently helped her to lie down with her stomach
flat on the carpet. Her spine curved back and her groin rose at an
angle in my lap. Her knees, locked straight for so long, were now
bent with her toes pointed away from me. My cock, still erect and
throbbing, tapped lightly against the half-open slit but I made no
attempt to push it into her, though I could hardly ignore the
enticing aroma of the wetness that beaded the back of her crotch.
I quietly stroked her ass and her thighs, and I threaded my
fingers between her toes and felt the tough smoothness of the soles
of her tiny feet. Finally, she attempted to get up but her
position was awkward for anything other than what we had been
doing. I rolled her over on her back and stood, scooping her up in
my arms as I rose; she weighed so little, it was like a lifting a
little girl. I knew that was part of what attracted me to her; she
undoubtedly knew it too. I laid her on the bed on her back and
settled next to her on my side, head propped on one hand so I could
continue to look at her.
Her eyes had been closed in momentary exhaustion, but now they
opened and I was favored with a warm, dreamy smile. She held up
her arms and I lay down with my face next to hers and her arms
around my neck.
"He followed me home, Ma; can I keep him?" She kissed me once,
lingeringly, and then nuzzled my ear with her nose.
"How did you know something like that would turn me on so? *I*
didn't know it." Her full voice had been bell-like, but her
whisper was husky. She nibbled my earlobe and sighed happily.
"It wasn't just a lucky guess," I said, as my hand traveled down
her back, pressing her warm body against mine. "Besides, a
gentleman always lets a lady come first."
"What do you mean, it wasn't a 'lucky guess'?"
I was still down by one horrible pun. "Well, being an Island
girl, I figured you couldn't resist a Pacific rim...." She groaned
and laughed softly in my ear; then she licked one finger and marked
a score in the air.
"That's a hell of a start, but we've got all night to try and
top it. Don't we?" She hugged me affectionately.
"We certainly do," I replied, and hugged her back.
* * * * *
It was a long night and neither of us got much sleep. There
was too much of each other to explore, and I think we covered every
available square inch. We began with a conventional fuck there on
the bed, if anything about Connie could be said to be conventional.
She was a long way from being a virgin, but her cunt was still
tight. As I pushed my cock into her, she locked her ankles so high
up on my back I nearly slithered out again.
Finally, relying on her gymnastic strength, I hooked my arms
behind her knees and thrust up into her as far as I could reach.
As she breathed deeply with pleasure, I could feel the head of my
cock battering against her cervix. She made low growling noises
again as I positioned myself to apply maximum friction against her
clit, and when we both climaxed, one after the other, a few minutes
later, she was breathing rapidly with her mouth wide open, almost
as if she were in labor.
The taste of her own juices and my semen didn't bother her
either, because five minutes afterward she was stretched out atop
me with my cock in her mouth and the sweet smell of her pussy
hovering just above my throat. She went from sucking hard on my
cock head to lightly flicking her tongue up and down its length.
I couldn't quite reach the prize with my tongue, so I turned my
head a bit and nibbled the insides of her thighs while gently
squeezing her ass with both hands. When I finally came again, she
sucked hard, not wanting to lose a drop of me.
After we caught our breaths, she urged me over on my stomach,
pushed my legs far apart, and lay with her face pressed snugly up
between my legs. She licked my balls and sucked them gently into
her mouth one at a time and then both together. A guy can't help
but feel vulnerable in that position, but I loved it -- especially
when she tugged just a little.
I couldn't reach her at all with my hands, of course, so I was
completely at her mercy. I suspected she liked to be in control to
some degree and I was content to let her orchestrate our
lovemaking. Besides, she was so very good at it!
She moved away from my balls and I felt my checks being spread.
I remembered her tapering, beautifully manicured fingernails, but
what I felt poking into my ass was too wet and mobile to be a
finger. She swabbed her tongue up and down, from the base of my
balls all the way to the base of my spine, pausing on each journey
to flick it into my ass.
After a few minutes of that treatment, my cock was rigid again,
trapped between me and the bed, and I had to roll over on my back.
Connie was instantly on her knees over my cock, letting herself
down onto it, then lying on my chest and sliding slowly up and down
on the organ that filled her so completely.
I couldn't reach to kiss her very easily -- the only
disadvantage of her lack of height -- so I lay happily and quietly,
smoothing her glossy hair and stroking her neck and shoulders. We
dozed off for perhaps thirty minutes, arms around each other, a
lovely woman still impaled on my cock.
Connie brought me back to wakefulness by the simple method of
resuming her motion. After a minute, she sat up, hands pressed
flat against my chest, her hair curtaining her face, and began
systematically pumping me up into herself. I reached down with
both hands and gripped her ass, flattening her groin and bending
her back. I could feel the fiery friction between my cock and her
clit. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth opened and closed
without a sound. She seemed to be in another place. Break on
through to the other side, I urged her silently. This time, I came
first and that rush within her triggered her own orgasm. She
moaned breathily and collapsed on my chest again.
"Oh, God," she whispered between gulps of air. She was finally
tiring herself out, I thought. Good thing, too; I wasn't sure I
could manage more than three climaxes in one night. Unbelievable.
* * * * *
I was awakened about 3:00 a.m. by Connie's small, slender hand
yet again wrapped around my penis. Her head lay against my
shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she seemed almost to be running
on automatic. My cock was reacting to her warm grip, though, and
I was willing to fuck this insatiable woman as many times as I
could manage, even if it put me in the hospital. But I decided to
take charge myself this time around.
I gently removed her hand from my cock and slid her head off my
arm. She murmured something incomprehensible. I wasn't sure I
could roll her over onto her other side without waking her, so,
moving very slowly and quietly, I arched my body across hers,
trading sides of the bed. Now she was facing away from me. Her
lovely, athletic body was lying loosely curled and I moved up
against her from behind. Her frame was so small, I could reach
almost every part of her.
My hand crept over her hip and worked its way down between her
legs. When my middle finger slipped through the gate guarding her
clit, she shifted her legs to give me better access and sighed.
She was still asleep. After perhaps thirty seconds of gently
stroking her hard little center, her breathing deepened and her own
hand moved down to replace mine. In another moment she was slowly
masturbating in her sleep.
My finger was wet with the juices of her cunt; I put it in my
mouth and sucked it dry. The taste of her was fantastic. The same
finger now moved to her asshole, lightly brushing the puckered
ridges. Her sphincter quivered involuntarily as I eased my finger
past the muscular rim. By the time it was in her up to the second
knuckle, her hips were visibly twitching and she was finally
beginning to waken.
I leaned over and kissed the side of her neck and flicked my
tongue in and out of her ear. She opened one eye halfway and
twisted her head to see where I was. She continued to stroke her
clit as we kissed -- and then I thrust all three inches of my
middle finger past her relaxed sphincter, all the way up into her
small, tight ass.
Her mouth and both eyes popped open at the unexpected sensation.
She knew immediately what was where, however, and she gasped and
squeezed her eyes tightly shut as I flexed my finger several times.
Had I been completely awake, I would never have done any of this
without at least her tacit consent. Connie was small but she was
strong and very tough. Any man trying to force himself on her
would come away missing both balls and an ear, and I knew it. As
it was, I was just lucky. Connie liked the surprise of being
gently dominated -- a little, anyway -- as much as she enjoyed
being the aggressor.
She drew up her right leg and moved it past my arm. Now she lay
on her back, legs spread wide, as I leaned over her with my wrist
pressed against her crotch and my finger gyrating in her rectum.
I varied the rhythm with random flexing motions, as if I were
attempting to make a one-finger fist, and each time I did, her body
twitched and jerked.
Her hand was flashing across the wet, red tip of her clit and
her moans came from deep in her throat. As she neared her orgasm,
I began moving my finger smoothly in and out but no more than one
knuckle. She bent her knees up against her chest, giving me the
greatest possible freedom of movement, and I took advantage of it,
moving my finger almost completely in and out of her hole.
Finally, at the very instant she peaked, I slammed my finger all
the way back into her. She gave a small cry, though not of pain,
and I could feel the convulsive contractions in both her rectum and
through the dividing membrane in her vagina.
* * * * * *
We slept in until 9:00 the next morning and missed the
conference's opening session, but our exhaustion was worth it. I
woke Connie this time. The hairlessness of her slit made it easy
to send my tongue probing down the crevice of her pussy. She made
a husky moaning sound that I was beginning to learn well and spread
her legs. I settled in on my stomach and pushed my whole face into
her crotch, my nose opening her labia and my tongue licking up and
down the entrance to her cunt. She smelled of sex -- equal parts
sweat, my semen, and her vaginal juices. She smelled wonderful.
She woke fully after a few moments and laughed softly and
musically.
She clenched my hair in her fists and tried to push my entire
head into her cunt. My tongue teased her clitoris out of its
hiding place and I pursed my lips around the shaft and sucked hard.
Her fists tugged harder at my hair, and that was beginning to hurt
a little. Okay, I thought, and I nipped very lightly with my teeth
at her clit.
She squealed and let go of my hair. "I give, I give!" she
gasped. I slid backward off the end of the bed onto my knees and
began hauling her after me by her spread legs. As her knees bent
and her feet hit the floor I stood and held out my hands. She
smiled and accepted them, and I pulled her upright and wrapped my
arms around her tightly. She put her arms around my neck and hung
on.
I kissed her neck and shoulder and she kissed every freckle on
my face. We finally unclinched and looked at each other, grinning
like idiots. "You know what this room smells like, don't you?"
Connie laughed. "What are the ladies in Housekeeping going to
think when they walk in here and take a deep breath of all the
pheromones?"
"Well," I laughed back, "we'd better make sure we don't smell
the same way when we read our papers this afternoon! Care to split
a shower?"
Three minutes later we were standing under the hot, cascading
water, industriously soaping each other up and down, and paying
special attention to all the erogenous zones we could think of. I
thought briefly about how many showers I had shared with Alex. But
this wasn't the same thing at all.
After lathering up, we tried the "Bangkok method" of scrubbing
-- rubbing our bodies together at all angles. Connie pressed her
small, firm breasts against my shoulder blades and slowly worked
her way down to my ass. Feeling her nipple travel down the crack
in my ass gave me chills even in the steamy shower. When it was my
turn, I made certain my stiffening cock made the same trip, down
her lower spine and the center line of her ass. I ended with my
cock pushing between her legs from behind. She reached under and
grasped the head of it, pulling it forward and up snug against her
crotch. She flexed her thigh muscles, as Alex sometimes did, but
she was so much smaller that two inches of me protruded in front of
her.
She laughed delightedly. "Hey, it looks from here like I've
become a hermaphrodite!" She wrapped one hand around my intruding
penis and began jerking me off, all the while making absurd
imitation-male sexual sounds.
Two could play at almost any game, and I remembered the night
before. Sliding my soapy hand down between our bodies, I slipped
my middle finger easily into her asshole. She sucked in between
her teeth and jutted her ass out without losing her grip on my
cock. Then I stiffened my finger into a hook and slowly lifted up.
Connie gasped and rose on tiptoe, letting go of my cock to brace
herself against the wall.
I already knew her ass was, relatively speaking, the least
experienced part of her. Now I had a blinding flash of lust: I
wanted to get my cock up that ass. As tight as her vagina was,
what must her rectum be like? My cock came to full alert as the
vision raced through my imagination.
"Connie,... have you ever been fucked in the ass? I mean, I
can't tell you how much I want your asshole, but I won't do
anything to hurt you."
Her breasts were pressed against the tile but her lovely little
bottom was cocked at an angle. "I tried it once," she admitted
between gasps of breath. "The guy tried to shove it in too fast
and it really hurt. But his cock was also bigger than yours -- too
big." She paused. "I want to try it again. Having your finger in
me is making me crazy! But do it slow, and if I tell you to, you
have to stop. Okay?"
"Of course, Connie; I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I meant it."
I carefully removed my finger and picked up the miniature bottle
of moisturizer supplied by the hotel -- though probably not for
this purpose. Sliding my finger back into her asshole, I made it
as slippery as I could while I spread the remaining lotion thickly
over the head of my cock.
"It'll be easiest if you spread your feet and touch your toes,"
I said. "I'll balance you, don't worry. Put your feet on the
nonskid strips."
I moved her around to face into the back corner of the shower
and as she bent over, I gripped her hips firmly and watched her
anus opening wider. "You have to relax your ass muscles. Push
out, like you were taking a shit. I'll take it slow, but you have
to relax."
I felt the hot water pounding against my shoulder blades as I
pressed the head of my cock against Connie's anus. She was
resisting without intending to and I heard her bite back a whimper.
But the lotion did the trick and my cock popped through her
sphincter. I paused for a few seconds, then held her hips steady
as I pulled her ass slowly toward me. She was alternately groaning
and gasping, but she didn't ask me to stop. I lathered up a little
more lotion on my cock as it disappeared from view, and then
realized I was buried in her tight brown ass up to the hilt.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly. "I can take it out."
Her teeth were clenched. "It feels like I have an iron pipe at
the base of my spine. It hurt at first, a little, but not now.
God, it feels strange! But I want you to fuck me! I've never done
this all the way and I have to know what it feels like."
I eased my cock out an inch or so, then pushed it back in. I
continued, increasing the tempo, and it gradually became easier as
her muscles cooperated. After a minute or two, Connie was standing
upright with her back arched and her beautiful ass almost
horizontal. She was moaning now and catching her breath with each
penetration. The natural moisture inside her added to the
lubrication and I soon found myself having to control my frenzied
lust, for fear of slamming into her too forcefully.
For a minute or two, I wanted to climb all the way up into her.
I wished I had a twenty-inch penis, so I could reach all the way
into her intestines. The tight, smooth grip of her rectum on my
cock combined with the vision of her firm little rear as I watched
myself sliding in and out of her. And the knowledge that I was the
first explorer in this virgin territory added to the vision. All
of this, combined with the previous night's exertions, made me
visionary. I was seeing tiny colored lights at the edges of my
eyes.
My hands moved up to her small waist and I held on tightly,
controlling the tempo. Connie didn't resist. In fact, she was
pushing her ass back against my cock, trying to deepen each thrust.
Her mouth was open and she was making repeated "Ahhhhhh..." noises.
I realized she was so far gone, she probably didn't know what
planet she was on -- and that accomplishment was the last
ingredient needed to trigger my orgasm.
I made a final deep lunge and came like a fire hose, shooting
what felt like whole pints of come up into her body. Two or three
more spasmodic plunges, and I was empty. God only knew how long it
would take my body to manufacture enough replacement semen to have
sex again. Weeks, probably.
I felt Connie's knees begin to buckle, and I quickly wrapped one
arm around her waist and the other around her body and pressed her
back against my chest, leaning back for balance. One hand cupped
her breast and her nipple was so erect it poked between my fingers.
Her arms hung loosely at her sides and her head lolled back on my
collarbone. She was truly impaled; the balls of her feet barely
rested on the wet tile. I could never have supported a larger girl
that way.
"Oh, God,... I don't believe it." She was gasping for breath
and seemed on the verge of fainting. "I came,... I actually
came,... incredible feeling,... I feel ... so full,... like ...
like your cock .... is ten times bigger."
I began to ease myself out of her but she immediately fumbled
behind her, trying to grab my body. "No! -- Not yet! -- Don't
leave yet...."
My own body was trembling and I wasn't sure how well I could
support even her weight. One careful step at a time, I turned
around where I stood. One slip and someone could break something,
and it might be my cock. The water now beating against Connie's
body seemed to revive her, and she raised one hand to cover her
face. I backed up and braced myself against the wall.
"Connie? I have to sit down before I fall down. If we're
careful, you can sit in my lap and I'll stay in you. Okay? Bend
as I bend."
I anchored my heels on the nonskid strips in the floor and
lowered myself to a sitting position, trying to keep my pelvis
pushed forward so as not to lose possession of Connie. She kept
her ass pressed back against my crotch and her palms braced against
the shower walls.
We made it almost all the way down, but the last couple of
inches I was overbalanced. My ass landed with a thump and my knees
splayed out; I was lucky not to crack my tailbone. Connie had
unavoidably let half the length of my still hard cock escape from
her. When I landed, so did she, and my penis plunged back into her
with real force. She let out a little cry of pain, but then
stroked my thighs as she caught her breath, to let me know she was
okay.
I scooted my lower body forward a little and Connie pressed
herself down even farther. She sank her fingers in the sides of my
thighs as she moaned.
"Michael,... help me turn around. You'll have to turn my hips
around so I don't lose you...."
I rotated her body slowly and carefully on my cock and she
lifted one leg almost vertically to get it past my chest. I bent
my knees so she could lean back against them, and she lifted her
own legs with a hand behind each knee. Her legs were spread as far
up and apart as it was possible to do, even for a gymnastic body
like hers. But to my amazement, her weight added almost another
inch of penetration. The union between us was so tight, strands of
my pubic hair were tucked up into her rectum. She smiled, a little
shakily.
"I had no idea," she said huskily. "I never came like that
before, without a guy in my pussy or eating me, or without bringing
myself off. I love having you in me like this! I'll be sore for
days and I don't know when I can do this again, but I don't care.
It felt so fantastically different.... I'm going to find a long
vibrator, not so big around, and have a *lot* of fun. Oh, Michael,
you're so beautiful! This'll sound strange, but you've given me a
gift, a discovery. I'll never forget the last twelve hours --
never!"
* * * * *
Connie was back in her tan suit, looking businesslike and
professional and academic, but still sexy and sensual ... or maybe
that was just my recent memories. Just before we left the room
with our bags, she leaned against me and pulled my head down, and
we shared a lenthy, soft, gentle kiss. Not passion this time,
exactly, but affection. And maybe a little love. Then she hugged
me tightly around the neck and spoke quietly into my ear.
"Michael, you are something else. And so am I. You fucked me
and I fucked you more times last night, and in more different ways,
than I've ever managed in any 24-hour period. God, you're good for
me!" She squeezed me again and there was a choke in her voice.
"You're good for me in other ways besides sex, too."
I squeezed her back. Even though I was going home to Alex, I
knew I would also miss this fantastic woman. "Connie, you don't
know how good you are for me, too. I told you I loved Alex, and I
meant it, absolutely ... but if she weren't there I'd be madly in
love with you by now. You're beautiful, sexy, smart, athletic, you
have a personality that any guy would fall for.... Did I mention
'sexy'? I don't know why you aren't married. I know it's none of
my business, but I sure don't understand it."
Her voice softened even more, her lips brushing my ear.
"Remember, I said I had two relationships that ended badly? I've
been proposed to twice, Michael, and I said 'No' both times.
That's why they ended. I was in love both times, too. The first
guy was really terrific but I turned him down because I was afraid
of the commitment. Maybe that was a mistake, but I'll never know.
Because if I ever marry someone, it will be permanent and I'll be
absolutely faithful. I couldn't do it any other way.
"Then, when I fell in love the second time, I proved I was right
not to say 'Yes' the first time. See what I mean? I like men too
much and I'd probably fall in love once a week if I let myself.
Hell, Michael, I'm half in love with you right now, too! How could
I give up an experience like last night? I wouldn't run around on
the man I married -- but what if we got bored with each other?
What if the sex got to be too ordinary? I'm afraid to take the
chance! I'm afraid of myself, I guess."
I could feel the tears and the fluttering of her eyelashes
against my ear. I stroked the small of her back and her hair and
held her close for a few silent minutes. How could someone this
wonderful be afraid of anything? I almost felt like crying with
her, or for her.
But there was a bond between us now, I had no doubt of that. I
also felt certain we'd be seeing each other again.
Subject: Siblings: Chapter 12
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
CONNIE
(fragment from a novel-in-progress)
Midway through my first year of graduate study at Berkeley, a
paper I had submitted was accepted to be read at the June
conference of the Western Social Sciences Association in San Diego.
I was excited and Alex was happy for me, too; in our eyes, anything
one of us did reflected equally on the other. But when June
arrived, Alex had her hands full revising her senior thesis so she
could graduate that summer, and I had to fly down alone. I've never
sought out crowds, but neither do I particularly enjoy traveling by
myself. If a place is worth visiting at all, it's probably an
experience worth sharing with someone else. Well, what the hell, I
could manage two days, I thought -- but I wouldn't bother with the
beach or Balboa Park.
A couple hours after leaving Oakland International, I stood near
the end of a long, serpentine queue before the front desk of the
conference hotel, trying to calculate how long it would be before
I could relax in my room. An hour at least, maybe two. The line
shifted a bit and I picked up my overnighter and my attache case,
took one step forward, and set them down again. I sighed and let my
vision drift out of focus, but a tinkling, elfin laugh just in
front of me brought my attention back. I had paid no attention to
the girl ahead of me in line and I realized now it was partly
because the top of her head barely reached my chin. I had looked
right over her head and sighed practically in her ear! As she
turned and grinned up at me over her shoulder, her silky black
hair, cut in a medium-length pageboy, shone with reflected light
from the lobby chandeliers. Her face looked as smooth and flawless
as translucent porcelain the shade of sandalwood or cinnamon. The
longest, thickest lashes I had ever seen -- I knew intuitively they
were genuine -- shaded a pair of black-brown elliptical eyes so
hypnotically ancient and deep their twinkle seemed incongruous. Her
small mouth was enhanced by brilliant red lipstick. She wore a
straw-colored linen suit over a white silk blouse, both
businesslike and alluring. I took in all this in less than a
second.
"Maybe we'll have to sleep here in the lobby tonight," she
laughed. Her voice was bell-like but included a nameless quality
that I was sure would grab any man by the throat, the heart, and
the balls, all at the same moment. No accent, either, so she wasn't
an exchange student (I took it for granted, on no evidence at all,
that this tiny beauty wouldn't be a faculty member somewhere.)
Without her two-inch heels I guessed she couldn't be taller than
4'10", but she was so properly proportioned that she seemed not
short but doll-like. A cliche, I know, but even cliches are founded
in truth. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and tilted her head
quizzically. I was suddenly aware of my loosely drooping jaw and
the fact that I was staring down at her. I could feel the flush
rising above my collar.
"Uh, yeah -- I mean, they'll, uh.... I'm sorry -- I sound like
an idiot." I swallowed and tried to regroup my scattered thoughts.
"Let me try again," I apologized. The twinkle in her eye was
brighter; she *knows* she has this effect on men, I thought. "I
think it's going to take another hour, at least, to get to the
front of this line, and I don't think we're likely to lose our
places." Only two other registrants stood behind us.
I made a joking half-bow. "Would you allow me to buy you a drink
so we can wait this out in comfort?" Because it's unexpected,
European formality frequently gets an American woman's attention.
"You've got a deal!" We parked our bags behind the velvet
retaining rope at one side of the lobby, walked into the bar, and
took a small table in the quieter area at the back. As I held her
chair for her, I belatedly introduced myself.
She held out a small, elegantly manicured hand and I took it
carefully. "I'm Connie Liang, University of Hawaii." Her palm was
cool and satiny. I'm only a bit above average size, but this lady
made me feel like a 280-lb. linebacker. Her surname was obviously
Chinese, but she appeared to be a more exotic blend of Japanese,
southeast Asian, Polynesian, and probably a little European. A
typically Hawaiian background, in other words. We chatted over a
couple of bottles of Bass and she told me she about the graduate
work she was doing in social anthropology. She was also in San
Diego to read a paper. From remarks she made I re-estimated her age
upward; she had to be a year or two older than I was. Her voice was
wonderfully musical and I resolved to attend her session,
regardless of its subject, just to hear her read.
After a little while, I rose and peered out at the lobby. The
line was down to almost no one now, so I paid the tab and we
retrieved our bags and checked in. Connie was on the 10th Floor and
I was on the 11th. On the way up in the empty elevator, Connie
mentioned with elaborate casualness that she thought she might just
go down to the pool deck on the 5th Floor and "splash around a
little." I caught her calculating sidelong glance and allowed as
how I might just do the same thing. She flashed me what I hoped was
a promising smile as she got off at her floor.
During the few seconds between the 10th and 11th Floors, all by
myself in the car, I had an sudden, unnerving conviction that Alex
was standing beside me. The feeling was so strong I actually turned
my head to ask her how she had gotten there -- and as I did, she
vanished, leaving behind an amused chuckle, like a Cheshire cat.
Her voice whispered in the back of my skull. "Michael, don't worry
about it ... have fun, enjoy yourself! I won't be angry. Don't you
know me any better than that?"
Yes, I did know her better than that. All the years we were
growing up together, learning about love and sex together, we were
nevertheless out there dating other people and sampling
considerable sexual variety. I learned early not to be jealous when
my sister quietly slipped in from a late date radiating a lingering
orgasmic flush or when she rinsed some guy's cum out of her mouth
with ginger ale. Nor was she anything but pleased when I came home
with my zipper still half-open and my fingers smelling of another
girl's cunt. Often she wound up in my bed or I in hers, sharing our
experiences and still aroused and primed by the evening's
adventures. I must be feeling guilty, I thought. Weird. Why should
I feel I'm betraying my sister just because I'm attracted to such
a terrific girl? Ridiculous. The elevator door slid open and I
hurried down the hall to my room, trying to remember if I had
packed my swimming trunks.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later I was walking out on the pool deck in a
polo shirt and my Hawaiian-print jams (good unintentional planning,
I thought), with a hotel bath towel draped artfully about my neck.
It was a half-hour till dusk, my favorite time for swimming and
beach-strolling, and there were only eight or ten other people
present, laughing and talking in two groups up at the shallow end.
Everyone else would be at dinner. I glanced around but didn't see
Connie. Either she'll come or she won't, I thought, and hung my
towel and shirt over the back of a deck chair.
I sat down on the pool curbing next to the diving board and
cautiously stuck one foot in the water. Great -- the pool was
heated! I glanced again at the glass doors; still no Connie. Ah,
well. I took a breath and pushed off into the deep end, headed
straight for the bottom. When my feet touched the cement eight feet
below, I crouched down with my knees bent. I paused a few seconds,
enjoying the null gravity sensation. Then I uncoiled and shot
myself back to the surface, arms at my sides, arching over backward
to smack my shoulder blades against the water. My "humpback whale"
trick, Alex called it. Childish, probably, but half the fun of a
swimming pool is in not acting like an adult.
Then I heard that silvery laugh again, accompanied by a patter
of applause, and I looked up. Connie had arrived while I was
underwater. I splashed the few yards to the side of the pool and
hooked my elbow over the edge. She was wearing a one-piece smooth
silver suit (to go with the laugh, I thought inanely), cut in a
deep V almost to her navel, that contrasted sharply with her light
brown skin and black hair.
She knelt and tried not to giggle. "Tell me ... did you do that
on 'porpoise'?"
I rolled my eyes, groaned in the expected manner, and reached
out as if to grab her ankle and fling her into the pool. She
skipped back a few steps grinning and waved me farther away from
the diving board. She stepped onto the board, adopted a serious
expression, and shook out her fingers as if preparing for a
difficult dive. As she paced out to the end, looking every bit an
Olympian, I saw that the back of her suit was scooped very wide and
low; only the thinnest of straps crossed vertically over her
shoulders and had the back been cut any lower she would have
revealed a second cleavage. There were no tan marks, of course, to
spoil the gently rippling surface of her upper body. She took a
precisely placed bounce on the end of the board and I expected to
see a 2-1/2 twist or something equally spectacular. On the way up,
she touched her pointed toes with her fingertips, arms and legs
absolutely straight -- a form obviously the result of many hours of
practice. But at the peak of her arc, she suddenly tucked herself
into a perfect, slowly spinning cannonball and hit the surface of
the water with a splash that caused a small tsunami at the other
end of the pool!
I pushed out to the end of the board and reached up for an ape-
hang as she paddled back from her point of impact.
"I can't think of a horrible pun just now," I grinned, "but I'll
give that one a 9.9!" She reached me and rested a hand on my
shoulder for buoyancy, and I added in a softer voice, "And I have
to give you a 10 just for looking the way you do."
She smiled more intimately and ran her other hand across my
chest beneath the surface, pausing to trace a circle around each
nipple with a fingertip. "You're not so bad yourself, big boy."
Where did she get this dialogue? Well, I'd seen quite a few old
films myself. "I'll bet you say that to all the boys who are a foot
taller than you."
She nodded slightly in approval as if I had just passed a test.
"Speaking of 'taller', you might be standing on the bottom for all
I know, but my legs are getting tired."
"Want to get out of the pool?" I hoped not, not yet.
"No, it's too warm in here and too cold out there. Just let me
shift into my barnacle routine."
Her legs, which had been slowly scissor-kicking, slid up and
wrapped themselves around my right thigh. At the same time, she
twisted around to face me at an angle and now one knee was pressed
in friendly fashion against my crotch. In the water, her clinging
suit had become semi-transparent. I was very much aware of her dark
nipples erect beneath the cloth, especially since one was being
pressed firmly into my ribs. Even in the warm water, I could feel
my cock stirring. Her left arm slipped around my back and her thumb
hooked itself casually over the waistband of my trunks. I steadied
my grip on the end of the diving board. I didn't care if my arm
developed a permanent cramp, I was attached to that board as long
as Connie wanted to stay in the pool.
I put my free arm around her and stroked my palm up and down the
smooth resiliency of her back. I could feel the subtle muscles that
come with regular swimming. Other muscles were shifting slightly in
her thighs and calves. There were other activities besides swimming
that that well-maintained body was expert at, I was sure. My hand
slid downward across the small of her back, past the edge of her
suit, and I paused and watched out of the corner of my eye for her
reaction. She squeezed my thigh between hers, so I continued down
over the curve of her small, firm ass. She brushed her nose across
the top of my chest and leaned in closer. My chest was right at
surface level and my nipples had hardened, both from being in the
water and from her previous attention to them. She submerged a few
more inches and fastened her lips around one nipple, sucking as if
it were a soda straw, while her hand moved from my chest down to my
abdomen. Connie's aggressive ideas of foreplay were a revelation
even to me, and the experience was very arousing.
After several minutes of mutual stroking and caressing, she
climbed up and breathed into my ear, which produced a wave of
delightful shivers down my neck. "Why don't we move up toward the
other end?" she whispered.
I watched the last of the other pool inhabitants gathering up
towels and sandals and strolling back into the building. It was
full dusk now, and the pool's underwater lights had come on, but
they weren't too bright.
"Sounds good to me," I replied.
Connie adoitly unwrapped herself and headed for the four-foot
marker with long, powerful strokes. After a few moments of
stretching my abused left arm, I set out after her.
When I arrived, she had her back to the pool wall and her legs
spread wide. "C'mere," she said softly. As I moved in and put my
arms around her torso, she wrapped her legs loosely around my waist
and hooked her wrists behind my neck. Her kiss was long and
sensuous, accompanied by rhythmic movements of her crotch against
my groin. Alex and I nearly always moved to each other by mutual
but unspoken consent, we had been together so long. Connie's
aggressive style of sex play was new to me and I found it both
exhilarating and very erotic.
I gripped both cheeks of her perfect ass and pressed her harder
to me. She raised herself up a little and I attempted to suck her
nipples out through the surface of her suit. She grabbed a shock of
my hair in her teeth and tugged my head up, then wiggled her tongue
between her lips in invitation. She was expecting a deep kiss, but
instead I grabbed her tongue with my lips, as I had done her
nipples a moment before, and sucked. I was trying to match her
"surprise" style of foreplay by making it up as I went along -- and
with that move I succeeded. Her dark eyes widened. She wrapped both
arms around my head, crushed her mouth hard against mine, and
strained to push her surprisingly long tongue down my throat. She
growled a little and both our mouths vibrated. Her thighs tightened
around my waist and I wondered in passing if I would end up with a
cracked vertebra. She mashed her crotch so hard against my cock I
was certain I could feel the lips of her cunt on either side of it,
even through both our suits. After a few minutes of convulsive dry-
humping she seemed to regain her senses enough to realize that I
was becoming very short of breath. She loosened her scissor grip
and pulled her head back to stare into my eyes. Her lips were
parted and her lipstick was smeared all over her mouth. She
continued to grasp and tug and release my hair with both hands.
"Oh, you're beautiful! Where have you been all my life?" Her
voice shook a little.
Another cliche, but this time I had an answer. "I've been
waiting to meet a water sprite, and here you are," I replied. I
combed my fingers back through that shining black hair. "If you're
planning to lure me away to the bottom of the sea, I'm ready to
go."
Connie was regaining control of her voice now. "How's your room?
Single or double occupant?"
"Just me and a double bed," I replied.
"Then I think we ought to get in out of this cool breeze. For
our health. And my bed's King-size."
I hadn't been paying attention to the weather, but she was
right. The cool San Diego night breeze was giving me goosebumps. I
waded on up the slope of the shallow end and went carefully up the
steps; Connie still had her arms and legs wrapped around me. She
was so small I could have carried her back to the room that way,
but I didn't want to risk running into a senior faculty member with
a beautiful girl plastered across my front like bronze armor. She
must have had the same thought because she suddenly let go of me,
landing perfectly poised and reaching for her towel. I was certain
now that she must have had gymnastics training -- every move she
made, every step she took, was so effortlessly graceful. I doubted
that she had ever stumbled or tripped in her life. I admired her as
much as I lusted for her.
We kissed again in the elevator between floors until an older
couple got on. Then we stood silently in the back of the car,
Connie in front of me. I was running my open hands over her ass
while she reached back to caress my cock through my trunks. We both
squirmed but neither of us made a sound. When we got off at the
10th Floor, Connie looked up and down the hall, saw no one and
immediately pinned me to the wall with her body. I assumed she was
going to kiss me again and I began to lean down, but instead she
stuck out her tongue and painted a wet stripe up the front of my
throat, Adam's apple to chin. She giggled and trotted away up the
corridor while I stood frozen by the burning mark. I had to hurry
to catch up. Nobody had ever better take *this* woman for granted,
I thought.
Inside the room, Connie's first move was to lock and bolt the
door. I flicked on the overhead light but she turned it off again
and switched on only the small bedside reading lamp. Now it was
dim. She pushed me gently back to sit on the edge of the bed. Then
she spread her knees and sat astride my lap, leaning back on her
heels so she could scan my face. I put my hands along the sides of
her damp thighs to balance her, and she played with the hairs on
the backs of my wrists. Her expression had become serious.
"Michael, you seem like a sweet guy, not the sort to try to take
advantage of me." I raised an eyebrow and she smiled; who was
taking advantage of whom? "I mean, I don't think you'd try to force
yourself on me. So I'm going to tell you some things up front that
you ought to know about me. First, I'm not as crazy as I sometimes
act. I'm smart, I'm successful at whatever I do, and I'm on my way
up in my field. I do act silly when I feel like it, and today I
just kinda feel like it.
"Second, I like sex -- no, I *adore* it. I enjoy acting sexy, by
myself or with a man -- if I like him. I sure like you. I guess I'm
just a sensual person. But that doesn't mean I'm an easy lay; no
one carves another notch on his cock with me! I've had two serious
love affairs in the past five or six years and perhaps a dozen one-
or two-night stands. I even made it with a complete stranger once -
- spur of the moment, fifteen minutes of fantasy, bam, and I'm
gone. But I'm usually very picky; it's been more than two months
since I fucked a guy and weeks since I even kissed anyone. Do you
understand what I'm saying?"
"I think you're saying," I replied, "that you'd like to spend
some time with me -- I hope you will -- but that it's your choice
to make." I shrugged. "Well, it always is, isn't it? The woman's
choice, I mean." I patted her legs lightly in what I hoped was a
reassuring gesture.
"Connie, I like women, almost all women, beautiful or not. And
I respect them -- if that makes any sense right now. Rape is not my
thing. Seduction, maybe, but that's a game, and both sides take
their chances; if it comes out right, nobody loses. I think *I'm*
the one who's being seduced this time, and I don't mind at all. We
don't know each other well enough yet for you to tell the
difference between my brand of flattery and the honest truth -- but
I tell you honestly and truthfully that you are one of the most
absolutely beautiful and desirable women it's even been my good
fortune to meet. We'll play by your rules, I promise."
I took her by the shoulders and began to bring her within
kissing range, but she stopped me. "Third," she said. I waited.
"I hate to hurt the man I'm with as much as I love having fun
with him, as long as it lasts. I've been in love twice, or I
thought I was, and both of us were hurt each time it ended. I'm not
fool enough to think anyone can predict that they will or won't
fall in love, and I don't believe in 'love at first sight' anyway."
I could see some painful memories behind her infinitely dark eyes.
"If I get involved with a guy, for a few weeks or even a few
hours, I won't run around on him. I don't mind a little *temporary*
possessiveness in a man -- in fact, I take it as a compliment. I
can be possessive, too!" She flashed another smile. "But I
understand the difference between sex-for-mutual-pleasure and real
love. A couple of the guys I've had flings with have become friends
even without the sex; they recognized when that relationship ended
and became something else, and they accepted it." She took my face
in her hands and looked at me with an expression that begged me to
understand.
"Don't decide you're in love with me, okay? I don't *want* to be
in love, not now. If it happens, it happens, but I don't want
anyone getting hurt!"
I took her hands and kissed them, and tried to match her
earnestness. "Connie, I have a girlfriend back in Berkeley. We've
known each other and lived together for a long time, and we love
each other very much. We're not married, but I think of her as my
other half. In fact, I was a little depressed when she couldn't
come down here with me -- until I met you in the registration
line." Her eyebrows rose another fraction. "You just now laid it on
the line for me, in advance of anything that might happen between
us," I continued, "just to be sure I understood what was going on
here. That's very unusual and it's very honest. That girl back home
owns my heart absolutely -- but she's a very smart lady, too, and
she knows from experience that sex-for-fun is temporary, like a
ferris wheel. You have fun for awhile, you enjoy the ride, and then
you go back home to the one who loves you. She's gone round on the
ferris wheel a few times herself, and I always welcome her back
with a smile and a kiss. Do you see? I don't own her body -- I
couldn't even if I wanted to -- but it doesn't matter, because I
know, absolutely *know*, that she loves me. Neither she nor I has
ever had anything to be jealous about."
I couldn't tell whether Connie quite believed I was telling her
the truth or not. "In my attache case over there is a copy of my
conference registration form, with my home phone number on it. If
you like, you can call her up and talk to her. Her name is Alex.
She's as different from you as the sun is from the moon, but she
enjoys sex, too, believe me. She might even make a few
suggestions."
Still sitting astride my lap and holding my hands, Connie just
looked at me for another minute. I could practically hear the
balance scales clink in her head as she weighed out the
possibilities. Then she smiled broadly, pushed me onto my back, and
began kissing and nibbling at my throat. I was glad she had decided
to believe me because what I'd told her was the truth.
"Your suit seems to have dried," I commented as I slid my hands
up and down her back. "But mine's getting clammy. How about first
things first?"
She rolled off, laughing, and I stood up and unknotted the
string in the front of my trunks. Connie bounced off the bed and
pushed my hands away.
"No, no, no! Let me do that; I enjoy unwrapping presents!"
Barefoot, she came only to the middle of my chest, but her arms
circled my waist and her hands slid down under my jams and squeezed
my ass. She knelt and pulled my trunks slowly down. When my
reanimated cock sprang up, she made clacking sounds with her teeth
and lunged playfully at it.
"Down, Toto, down!" I laughed. I hadn't meant it literally, but
she obediently lay on her back on the floor, arms outstretched,
legs slightly apart, her hair scattered around her face. I stood
over her, reached down, and slid the silvery straps off her
shoulders. She raised her arms and I carefully pulled her bathing
suit away from her breasts and down to her hips, like peeling a
banana. She raised her legs straight upward, pointing her toes as
she had when she dived off the board. I worked the silver suit
quickly down her legs, untangled it from her ankles, and tossed it
on the bed. Then I simply stood and looked down at this perfect,
miniature Venus.
She saw the open admiration in my eyes and proceded to give me
the complete tour. Her breasts were small but in proportion to all
the rest of her, and they quivered firmly. She cupped them in her
hands, rubbed her dark brown nipples between her fingers, and
sighed. Her legs were still in the air; she spread them slowly and
curled her ass up a little. Her pubic hair formed a tiny black
rectangle ending just above her cunt. Her clit seemed as erect as
my cock, protruding from the cocoa folds of her lips. She curled
her body smoothly to one side and I stepped back out of her way as
she suddenly became a three-sided pyramid -- ass at the apex, legs
still stretched out, the tips of her toes digging into the carpet,
her back perfectly straight, arms cushioning her head. She curled
her toes inward and her tiny asshole opened invitingly. Connie was
exposing to me everything her body had to offer, and the array of
possibilities was impressive. Her small frame, combined with her
high degree of physical conditioning and her obvious willingness to
share it all with me, was making me lightheaded.
Without conscious decision, I knelt between her slender,
perfectly turned legs and thrust my tongue into her cunt, flicking
it against her clit on the way in. She jerked slightly and I felt
her thighs quiver against my ears. I wrapped a hand around the
front of each knee, to balance her, and continued to stir my tongue
around in her bare little cunt, which was now beginning to drip
with her juices. I remembered the wetness of her mouth on my
throat, out in the hall, and now my tongue moved slowly, wetly,
from the bottom of her cunt up toward her asshole. A girl like this
would always be absolutely clean, I knew that. As my tongue
traveled the last smooth brown inch between her legs she moaned
softly and trembled again.
When I reached the rim of her puckered anus I paused for a
moment, and not just to build the suspense. Rimming was something
I seldom did, and then only with Alex. I knew many women were
uneasy about it. Yet Connie hadn't stopped me; in fact her
quivering tautness convinced me this was something she would really
enjoy. My tongue began tracing rings around the rim of the deepest
opening in her body and I could feel her heart rate increase and
her breathing become ragged. Then I plunged it as hard and as far
into her ass as I could, burying my face again and again between
her cheeks, and I could heard her half-sobs of passion. I became
aware of spasms ricocheting between her cunt and her ass as the
orgasm carried her away.
After a minute, I gently helped her to lie down with her stomach
flat on the carpet. Her back was arched and her groin rose at an
angle in my lap. Her knees, locked straight for so long, were now
bent with her toes pointed away from me. My cock, still erect and
throbbing, tapped lightly against the half-open slit but I made no
attempt to push it into her, though I could hardly ignore the
enticing aroma of the wetness that beaded the back of her crotch.
I quietly stroked her ass and her thighs, and I threaded my fingers
between her toes and felt the tough smoothness of the soles of her
tiny feet. Finally, she attempted to get up but her position was
awkward for anything other than what we had been doing. I rolled
her over on her back and stood, scooping her up in my arms as I
rose; she weighed so little, it was like a lifting a little girl.
I knew that was part of what attracted me to her; she undoubtedly
knew it too. I laid her on the bed on her back and settled next to
her on my side, head propped on one hand so I could continue to
look at her. Her eyes had been closed in momentary exhaustion, but
now they opened and I was favored with a warm, dreamy smile. She
held up her arms and I lay down with my face next to hers and her
arms around my neck.
"He followed me home, Ma; can I keep him?" She kissed me once,
lingeringly, and then nuzzled my ear with her nose.
"How did you know something like that would turn me on so? *I*
didn't know it." Her full voice was bell-like, but her whisper was
husky. She nibbled my earlobe and sighed happily.
"It wasn't just a lucky guess," I said, as my hand traveled down
her back, pressing her warm body against mine. "Besides, a
gentleman always lets a lady cum first."
"What do you mean, it wasn't a 'lucky guess'?"
I was still down by one horrible pun. "Well, being an Island
girl, I figured you couldn't resist a Pacific rim...."
She groaned and laughed softly in my ear; then she licked one
finger and marked a score in the air. "That's a hell of a start,
but we've got all night to try and top it. Don't we?" She hugged me
affectionately.
"We certainly do," I replied, and hugged her back.
* * * * *
It was a long night and neither of us got much sleep. There was
too much of each other to explore, and I think we covered every
available square inch. We began with a conventional fuck there on
the bed, if anything about Connie could be said to be conventional.
She was a long way from being a virgin, but her cunt was still
tight. As I pushed my cock into her, she locked her ankles so high
up on my back I nearly slithered out again. Finally, relying on her
gymnastic strength, I hooked my arms behind her knees and thrust up
into her as far as I could reach. As she breathed deeply with
pleasure, I could feel the head of my cock battering against her
cervix. She made low growling noises again as I positioned myself
to apply maximum friction against her clit, and when we both
climaxed, one after the other a few minutes later, she was
breathing rapidly with her mouth wide open, almost as if she were
in labor.
The taste of her own juices and my cum didn't bother her either,
because five minutes later she was stretched out atop me with my
cock in her mouth and the sweet smell of her pussy hovering just
above my throat. She went from sucking hard on my cock head to
lightly flicking her tongue up and down its length. I couldn't
quite reach her cunt with my tongue, so I turned my head a bit and
nibbled the insides of her thighs while gently squeezing her ass
with both hands. When I finally came again, she sucked hard,
apparently not wanting to lose a drop of my semen.
After we caught our breaths, she urged me over on my stomach,
pushed my legs far apart, and lay with her face pressed snugly up
between my legs. She licked my balls and sucked them gently into
her mouth one at a time and then both together. A guy can't help
but feel vulnerable in that position, but I loved it -- especially
when she tugged just a little. I couldn't reach her at all with my
hands, of course, so I was completely at her mercy. I suspected she
liked to be in control to some degree and I was content to let her
orchestrate our lovemaking. Besides, she was so very good at it!
She moved away from my balls and I felt my checks being spread.
I remembered her tapering, beautifully manicured fingernails, but
what I felt poking into my ass was too wet and mobile to be a
finger. She swabbed her tongue up and down, from the base of my
balls all the way to the base of my spine, pausing on each journey
to flick it into my ass.
After a few minutes of that treatment, my cock was rigid again,
trapped between me and the bed, and I had to roll over on my back.
Connie was instantly on her knees over my cock, letting herself
down onto it, then lying on my chest and sliding slowly up and down
on the organ that filled her so completely. I couldn't reach to
kiss her very easily -- the only disadvantage of her lack of height
-- so I lay happily and quietly, smoothing her glossy hair and
stroking her neck and shoulders. We dozed off for perhaps thirty
minutes, arms around each other, and a lovely woman still impaled
on my cock.
Connie brought me back to wakefulness by the simple method of
resuming her motion on my cock. After a minute, she sat up, hands
pressed flat against my chest, her hair curtaining her face, and
began systematically pumping me up into herself. I reached down
with both hands and gripped her ass, flattening her groin and
bending her back. I could feel the fiery friction between my cock
and her clit. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth opened and
closed without a sound. She seemed to be in another place. Break on
through to the other side, I urged her silently. This time, I came
first and that rush of cum within her triggered her own orgasm. She
moaned breathily and collapsed on my chest again.
"Oh, God," she whispered between gulps of air. She was finally
tiring herself out, I thought. Good thing, too; I wasn't sure I
could manage more than three climaxes in one night. Unbelievable.
* * * * *
I was awakened about 3:00 a.m. by Connie's small, slender hand
yet again wrapped around my penis. Her head lay against my
shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she seemed almost to be running
on automatic. My cock was reacting to her warm grip, though, and I
was willing to fuck this insatiable woman as many times as I could
manage, even if it put me in the hospital. But I decided to take
charge myself this time around.
I gently removed her hand from my cock and slid her head off my
arm. She murmured something incomprehensible. I wasn't sure I could
roll her over onto her other side without waking her, so, moving
very slowly and quietly, I arched my body across hers, trading
sides of the bed. Now she was facing away from me. Her lovely,
athletic body was lying loosely curled and I moved up against her
from behind. Her frame was so small, I could reach almost every
part of her. My hand slipped over her hip and worked its way down
between her legs. When my middle finger slipped between the lips
guarding her clit, she shifted her legs to give me better access
and sighed. She was still asleep. After perhaps thirty seconds of
gently stroking her clit, her breathing deepened and her own hand
moved down to replace mine. In another moment she was slowly
masturbating in her sleep.
My finger was wet with the juices of her cunt; I put it in my
mouth and sucked it dry. The taste of her was fantastic. The same
finger now moved to her asshole, lightly brushing the puckered
ridges. Her sphincter quivered involuntarily as I eased my finger
past the muscular rim. By the time it was in her up to the second
knuckle, her hips were visibly twitching and she was finally
beginning to waken. I leaned over and kissed the side of her neck
and flicked my tongue in and out of her ear. She opened one eye
halfway and twisted her head to see where I was. She continued to
stroke her clit as we kissed -- and then I thrust all three inches
of my middle finger past her relaxed sphincter, all the way up into
her small, tight ass. Her mouth and both her eyes popped open at
the unexpected sensation. She knew immediately what was where,
however, and she gasped and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as I
flexed my finger several times.
Had I been completely awake, I would *never* have done any of
this without at least her tacit consent. Connie was small but she
was strong and very tough. Any man trying to force himself on her
would come away missing both balls and an ear, and I knew it. As it
was, I was just lucky. Connie liked the surprise of being dominated
-- a little, anyway -- as much as she enjoyed being the aggressor.
She drew up her right leg and moved it past my arm. Now she lay
on her back, legs spread wide, as I leaned over her with my wrist
pressed against her crotch and my finger gyrating in her rectum. I
varied the rhythm with random flexing motions, as if I were
attempting to make a one-finger fist, and each time I did, her body
twitched and jerked. Her hand was flashing across the wet, red tip
of her clit and her moans came from deep in her throat. As she
neared her orgasm, I began moving my finger smoothly in and out but
no more than one knuckle. She bent her knees up against her chest,
giving me the greatest possible freedom of movement, and I took
advantage of it, moving my finger almost completely in and out of
her hole. Finally, at the very instant she peaked, I slammed my
finger all the way back into her. She made a small cry, though not
of pain, and I could feel the convulsive contractions in both her
rectum and through the dividing membrane in her vagina.
* * * * * *
We slept in until 9:00 the next morning and missed the
conference's opening session, but our exhaustion was worth it. I
woke Connie this time. The hairlessness of her slit made it easy to
send my tongue probing down the crevice of her pussy. She made a
husky moaning sound that I was beginning to learn well and spread
her legs. I settled in on my stomach and pushed my whole face into
her crotch, my nose opening her labia and my tongue licking up and
down the entrance to her cunt. She smelled of sex -- equal parts
sweat, my semen, and her vaginal juices. She smelled wonderful. She
woke fully after a few moments and laughed softly and musically.
She clenched my hair in her fists and tried to push my entire
head into her cunt. My tongue teased her clitoris out of its hiding
place and I pursed my lips around its shaft and sucked hard. Her
fists tugged harder at my hair, and that was beginning to hurt a
little. Okay, I thought, and I nipped very lightly with my teeth at
her clit.
She squealed and let go of my hair. "I give, I give!" she
gasped. I slid backwards off the end of the bed onto my knees and
began hauling her after me by her spread legs. As her knees bent
and her feet hit the floor I stood and held out my hands. She
smiled and accepted them, and I pulled her upright and wrapped my
arms around her tightly. She put her arms around my neck and hung
on.
I kissed her neck and shoulder and she kissed every freckle on
my face. We finally unclinched and looked at each other, grinning
like idiots. "You know what this room smells like, don't you?"
Connie laughed. "What are the ladies in Housekeeping going to think
when they walk in here and take a deep breath of all the
pheromones?"
"Well," I laughed back, "we'd better make sure we don't smell
the same way when we read our papers this afternoon! Care to split
a shower?"
Three minutes later we were standing under the hot, cascading
water, industriously soaping each other up and down, and paying
special attention to all the erogenous zones we could think of. I
thought briefly about how many showers I had shared with Alex. But
this wasn't the same thing at all.
After lathering up, we tried the "Bangkok method" of scrubbing -
- rubbing our bodies together at all angles. Connie pressed her
small, firm breasts against my shoulder blades and slowly worked
her way down to my ass. Feeling her nipple travel down the crack in
my ass gave me chills even in the steamy shower. When it was my
turn, I made certain my stiffening cock made the same trip, down
her lower spine and the center line of her ass. I ended with my
cock pushing between her legs from behind. She reached under and
grasped the head of it, pulling it forward and up snug against her
crotch. She flexed her thigh muscles, as Alex sometimes did, but
she was so much smaller that two inches of me protruded in front of
her.
She laughed delightedly. "Hey, it looks from here like I've
become a hermaphrodite!" She wrapped one hand around it and began
jerking me off, all the while making absurd imitation-male sexual
sounds.
Two could play at almost any game, and I remembered the night
before. Sliding my soapy hand down between our bodies, I slipped my
middle finger easily into her asshole. She sucked in between her
teeth and jutted her ass out without losing her grip on my cock.
Then I stiffened my finger into a hook and slowly lifted up. Connie
gasped and rose on tiptoe, letting go of my cock to brace herself
against the wall.
I already knew her ass was, relatively speaking, the least
experienced part of her. Now I had a blinding flash of lust: I
wanted to get my cock up that ass. As tight as her cunt was, what
must her ass be like? My cock came to full alert as the vision
raced through my imagination.
"Connie, ... have you ever been fucked in the ass? I mean, I
can't tell you how much I want your asshole, but I won't do
anything to hurt you."
Her breasts were pressed against the tile but her ass was cocked
at an angle. "I tried it once," she admitted between gasps of
breath. "The guy tried to shove it in too fast and it really hurt.
But his cock was also bigger than yours -- too big." She paused. "I
want to try it again. Having your finger in me is making me crazy!
But do it slow, and if I tell you to, you have to stop. Okay?"
"Of course, Connie; I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I meant it."
I carefully removed my finger and punched out a handful of
moisturizing lotion from the dispenser below the shower head.
Sliding my finger back into her asshole, I made it as slippery as
I could while I spread lotion thickly over the head of my cock.
"It'll be easiest if you spread your feet and touch your toes,"
I said. "I'll balance you, don't worry. Put your feet on the
nonskid strips."
I moved her around to face into the back corner of the shower
and as she bent over, I gripped her hips firmly and watched her
anus opening wider. "You have to relax your ass muscles. Push out,
like you were taking a shit. I'll take it slow, but you have to
relax."
I felt the hot water pounding against my shoulder blades as I
pressed the head of my cock against Connie's anus. She was
resisting without intending to and I heard her bite back a whimper.
But the lotion did the trick and my cock popped through her
sphincter. I paused for a few seconds, then held her hips steady as
I pulled her ass slowly toward me. She was alternately groaning and
gasping, but she didn't ask me to stop. I lathered a little more
lotion on my cock as it disappeared from view, and then I realized
I was buried in her tight brown ass up to the hilt.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly. "I can take it out."
Her teeth were clenched. "It feels like I have an iron pipe at
the base of my spine. It hurt at first, a little, but not now. God,
it feels strange! But I want you to fuck me! I've never done this
all the way and I have to know what it feels like."
I eased my cock out an inch or so, then pushed it back in. I
continued, increasing the tempo, and it gradually became easier as
the muscles in her ass cooperated. After a minute or two, Connie
was standing upright with her back arched and her beautiful ass
almost horizontal. She was moaning now and catching her breath with
each penetration. The natural moisture inside her added to the
lubrication and I soon found myself having to control my frenzied
lust, for fear of slamming into her too forcefully. For a minute or
two, I wanted to climb all the way up into her ass. I wished I had
a twenty-inch penis, so I could reach up into her intestines. The
tight, smooth grip of her rectum on my cock combined with the
vision of her firm little rear as I watched myself sliding in and
out of her. And the knowledge that I was the first explorer in this
virgin territory added to the vision. All of this, combined with
the previous night's exertions, made me lightheaded. I was seeing
tiny colored lights at the edges of my vision.
My hands moved up to her small waist and I held on tightly,
controlling the tempo. Connie didn't resist. In fact, she was
pushing her ass back against my cock, trying to deepen each thrust.
Her mouth was open and she was making repeated "Ahhhhhh..." noises.
I realized she was so far gone, she probably didn't know what
planet she was on -- and that accomplishment was the last
ingredient needed to trigger my orgasm. I made a final deep lunge
and came like a fire hose, shooting what felt like whole pints of
cum up into her body. Two or three more spasmodic plunges, and I
was empty. God only knew how long it would take my body to
manufacture enough replacement semen to have sex again. Weeks,
probably.
I felt Connie's knees begin to buckle, and I quickly wrapped one
arm around her waist and the other around her body and pressed her
back against my chest, leaning back for balance. One hand cupped
her breast and her nipple was so erect it poked between my fingers.
Her arms hung loosely at her sides and her head lolled back on my
collarbone. She was truly impaled; the balls of her feet barely
rested on the wet tile. I could never have supported a larger girl
that way.
"Oh, God, ... I don't believe it." She was gasping for breath
and seemed on the verge of fainting. "I came, ... I actually came,
... incredible feeling, ... I feel ... so full, ... like ... like
your cock ... is ten times ... its natural size."
I began to ease myself out of her but she immediately fumbled
behind her, trying to grab my body. "No! ... not yet! ... don't
leave yet...."
My own body was trembling and I wasn't sure how well I could
support even her weight. One careful step at a time, I turned
around where I stood. One slip and someone could break something,
and it might be my cock. The water now beating against Connie's
body seemed to revive her, and she raised one hand to cover her
face. I backed up and braced myself against the wall.
"Connie? I have to sit down before I fall down. If we're
careful, you can sit in my lap and my cock will stay in you. Okay?
Bend as I bend."
I anchored my heels on the nonskid strips in the floor and
lowered myself to a sitting position, trying to keep my pelvis
pushed forward so as not to lose possession of Connie. She kept her
ass pressed back against my crotch and her palms pressed out
against the shower walls. We made it almost all the way down, but
the last couple of inches I was overbalanced. My ass landed with a
thump and my knees splayed out; I was lucky not to crack my
tailbone. Connie had unavoidably let half the length of my still
hard cock escape from her ass. When I landed, so did she, and my
penis plunged back into her with real force. She let out a little
cry of pain, but then stroked my thighs as she caught her breath,
to let me know she was okay.
I scooted my lower body forward a little and Connie pressed
herself down even farther. She sank her fingers in the sides of my
thighs as she moaned.
"Michael, ... help me turn around. You'll have to turn my hips
around so I don't lose you...."
I rotated her body slowly and carefully on my cock and she
lifted one leg almost vertically to get it past my chest. I bent my
knees so she could lean back against them, and she lifted her own
legs with a hand behind each knee. Her legs were spread as far up
and apart as it was possible to do, even for a gymnastic body like
hers. But to my amazement, her weight added almost another inch of
penetration. The contact between us was so tight, strands of my
pubic hair were tucked up into her anus. She smiled a little
shakily.
"I had no idea," she said huskily. "I never came like that
before, without a guy in my pussy or eating me, or without bringing
myself off. I love having you in me like this! I'll be sore for
days and I don't know when I can do this again, but I don't care.
It felt so fantastically different.... I'm going to find a long
vibrator, not so big around, and have a *lot* of fun. Oh, Michael,
you're so beautiful! This'll sound strange, but you've given me a
gift, a discovery. I'll never forget the last twelve hours --
never!"
Connie was back in her tan suit, looking businesslike and
professional and academic, but still sexy and sensual ... or maybe
that was just my recent memories. Just before we left the room with
our bags, she leaned against me and pulled my head down, and we
shared a lenthy, soft, gentle kiss. Not passion this time, exactly,
but affection. And maybe a little love. Then she hugged me tightly
around the neck and spoke quietly into my ear.
"Michael, you are something else. And so am I. You fucked me and
I fucked you more times last night, and in more different ways,
than I've ever managed in any 24-hour period. God, you're good for
me!" She squeezed me again and there was a choke in her voice.
"You're good for me in other ways besides sex, too."
I squeezed her back. Even though I was going home to Alex, I
knew I would also miss this fantastic female. "Connie, you don't
know how good you are for me, too. I told you I loved Alex, and I
meant it, absolutely ... but if she weren't there I'd be madly in
love with you by now. You're beautiful, sexy, smart, athletic, you
have a personality that any guy would fall for.... Did I mention
'sexy'? I don't know why you aren't married. I know it's none of my
business, but I sure don't understand it."
Her voice softened even more, her lips brushing my ear.
"Remember, I said I had two relationships that ended badly? I've
been proposed to twice, Michael, and I said 'No' both times. That's
why they ended. I was in love both times, too. The first guy was
really terrific but I turned him down because I was afraid of the
commitment. Maybe that was a mistake, but I'll never know. Because
if I ever marry someone, it will be permanent and I'll be
absolutely faithful. I couldn't do it any other way. Then, when I
fell in love the second time, I proved I was right not to say 'Yes'
the first time. See what I mean? I like men too much and I'd
probably fall in love once a week if I let myself. Hell, Michael,
I'm half in love with you right now, too! How could I give up an
experience like last night? I wouldn't run around on the man I
married ... but what if we got bored with each other? What if the
sex got to be too ordinary? I'm afraid to take the chance! I'm
afraid of myself, I guess."
I could feel the tears and the fluttering of her eyelashes on my
ear. I stroked her back and her hair and held her close for a few
silent minutes. How could someone this wonderful be afraid of
anything? I almost felt like crying with her, or for her.
There was a bond between us now, I had no doubt of that. I also
felt certain we'd be seeing each other again.
===============================================================
Copyright 1992 Michael K. Smith. For personal enjoyment and
posting in other electronic venues. All commercial rights
reserved.
Subject: Siblings: Chapter 13
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
EXTENDED FAMILY ("CONNIE RETURNS")
Alex and I stood at the big window by Gate 29A and watched as
the brightly painted Aloha Airlines jet was hauled the last few
yards up to the telescoping walkway. I was nervous and it showed.
My sister found this amusing; she kept patting me on the shoulder
and cooing such constructive advice as "It's okay, Michael, it
won't be long now...." I might have found her playful
condescension annoying except that I recognized my own silliness.
We were only meeting Connie Liang's plane, after all.
Fourteen months it had been since my brief, serendipitous affair
in San Diego with that tiny beauty and I hadn't actually seen her
in all that time, though she sent me snapshots regularly. Connie
and I had kept in touch, just as we had said we would.
I had always been a lousy correspondent before this. I
preferred to simply pick up a phone and talk with someone in real-
time. Telephone rates Hawaii-to-California made that economically
unfeasible, so I learned to write letters.
Connie's letters to me arrived every three or four weeks --
usually with extra postage because of their bulk. A single letter
might sprawl across several kinds of note paper and lined tablets,
in several colors of ink: She was writing whenever and wherever she
had something she wanted to say to me, which I took as a
compliment. And she communicated as beautifully, and as
idiosyncratically, on paper as she had in person, going on at
length about anything in which she had an interest.
I heard her opinions on Hawaiian politics, the best way to build
a sand castle, the personalities of the people she worked with in
her new job with the Museum of the Pacific in Honolulu, and why I
absolutely *must* read a certain book or see a certain movie. And
I heard her thoughtful ruminations about life and the people in it,
including me.
I also heard about her sex life in some detail ... partly, I
believed, because she knew it would turn me on. As she had told me
in San Diego, her enjoyment of sex was moderate in quantity but
always enthusiastic in quality.
Letters like that seem to demand that the recipient hold up his
end of the exchange, so I learned. My first discovery was that my
high school experience in journalism didn't help much. My first
few attempts at literate replies were pitiful reactions to things
she had said, but soon I was initiating discussions and venturing
my own opinions. And I began following her example by jotting a
few paragraphs at odd moments on a note pad I carried in my
briefcase. The thickness of my letters to Connie began to rival
hers.
And I, too, included candid accounts of my sexual experiences,
both the casual flirtations I enjoyed with girls I met on campus
and the deeply emotional and satisfying relationship I reveled in
with Alex. I was careful not to divulge The Secret, though.
Naturally, I had related my one-night affair with Connie to my
sister, who -- predictably -- was both pleased for me and curious
about this girl I found so fascinating. After I asked for and
received Connie's permission, Alex read all her letters and was
impressed both by her imagination and intellect and by her obvious
charms, as evidenced in those snapshots. For I should mention that
the photos Connie sent were often of the "private" variety,
featuring her very own self in very erotic poses. (I wondered who
had taken them for her.)
Soon, Alex began including brief notes and then longer missives
in my letters to Connie, and Connie answered with evident delight.
I felt a growing conviction that these two wonderful ladies would
get along just fine, if we could ever arrange another meeting.
Then the opportunity suddenly arrived, in the form of an
invitation from the Humboldt Museum at the University of California
to the Museum of the Pacific, to send someone for two weeks of
concentrated training in some arcane specialty of Polynesian
anthropology. Connie wangled the invite for herself, on the
grounds that being part-Chinese, part- Japanese, part-Oceanic, and
part-European gave her special qualifications. Then she called us
that evening to say she would be arriving at Oakland International
the next Friday. Alex was sharing the earpiece and listening in;
she beat me to it by insisting that Connie would stay with us --
and no arguments!
Now, here we were, waiting for the lady to deplane. I had
missed her, for reasons of friendship as well as lustful memories.
I prayed fervently that she and Alex would hit it off as well as I
hoped. And I was nervous about this new turning point in my
relationship with Connie. It *had* been fourteen months, all our
correspondence notwithstanding, and this wasn't an unexpected
interlude in San Diego; I doubted we could simply pick up where we
had left off.
Nor did I *really* know how my sister would react when she saw
how Connie so obviously affected me. Alex knew I loved her, no
doubt about that. And we both had had our flings over the years
(including Alex's "crisis of faith" in our relationship during her
freshman year in college). But we were older now and this thing
with Connie might be different. Or maybe not -- but I was still
nervous.
I spotted Connie walking along behind the velvet rope from the
passageway; she was scanning the crowd that was waiting to greet
the passengers but she hadn't seen me yet; being under five feet in
height has some disadvantages. She was wearing tight, bright red
shorts, a sleeveless white cotton shirt, and white woven leather
sandals with heels. All the colors contrasted nicely with her
glowing sandalwood complexion. Her gleaming black hair swirled as
she looked about; she had let it grow much longer than it had been
in her last photo, and she looked younger than Alex though she was
actually almost two years older than me. Alex saw her, too, and
squeezed my hand.
"Michael! She's absolutely beautiful!" my sister whispered.
The admiration in her voice didn't ease my edginess, though.
Then I raised my hand and waved and Connie saw me. Her eyes lit
up and her smile flashed as she wove her way through the crowd. I
was a little hesitant in moving forward to meet her, and she saw it
and slowed to a stop. She raised those expressive eyebrows in a
question that I wasn't sure I could answer. Alex saved me by
walloping me on the arm in exasperation.
"Michael? Go and *kiss* her, you idiot! She'll think you don't
want her!"
That got us a few odd looks from bystanders but it broke through
my uncertainty. I closed the distance between us and swept little
Connie up in my arms and swung her around, like in the movies. She
hung onto my neck and laughed that tinkly laugh I remembered so
well. When I set her down she kissed me so vigorously I heard a
ringing in my ears. Only now was I realizing just how *much* I had
missed her.
When we came out of our clinch, Alex was standing close to both
of us, grinning ear to ear. She hooked her arms through mine and
Connie's and we found ourselves in a warm three-way hug. Then Alex
put her arms around our so-welcome visitor, and squeezed, and bent
to whisper something in her ear, I couldn't hear what. Connie
beamed and whispered something back. Obviously, I wasn't going to
be let in on this one. But my relief was profound.
* * * * *
When we got back to our "lost" brownstone on the margin of the
Berkeley hills, I lugged Connie's bags up the steps while Alex gave
her the standard tour, upstairs and down -- together with a mock-
stern warning that she would not tolerate our guest thinking of
this place as anything less than her own home for as long as she
wished. Watching them interact so easily, I knew for certain that
any fears I had had of Connie complicating the relationship between
my sister and myself were groundless.
Neither Alex nor I had ever had more than a very few close
friends -- our preference as well as a practical necessity -- but
the two of them were already behaving as if they had known each
other all their lives. Maybe that was inevitable; anyone about whom
I felt so strongly almost had to rank highly with Alex, as well.
Our minds functioned that closely.
Our bed was full-size, elderly but serviceable, with wooden
posts at the corners. My first thought had been to let the girls
share it while I unfolded the double-width sofa/futon downstairs in
the living room.
Connie flatly refused the offer, pointing out that she was part-
Japanese, after all, and smaller, and probably in better physical
shape than I was. She would take the futon and we would keep our
own bed. And if this was really "her own home," then she would
sleep where she pleased, so there. I threw up my hands in
surrender; I already knew that trying to argue with a decision she
had made was pointless.
It was only about nine in the evening, but Connie's internal
clock insisted she had been up several hours longer than that. We
had planned on a light supper and early to bed, to let her adjust.
But after supper, the girls became so engrossed in their first
face-to-face conversation in the bedroom that after an hour or so
I finally gave it up and unfolded the futon for myself. I hadn't
worn pajamas in years, so I just stripped down, flung a spare sheet
over my body, and dozed off within minutes.
I was awakened in the dark by the presence of a warm body
cuddling up to mine and the feathery touch of long fingernails
drifting across my cheek. It was Connie, wearing a very short,
bright yellow nightshirt -- obviously intended for a much younger
girl, since it had a portrait of Bullwinkle on the front.
I looked over at her and registered the soft smile she gave me.
Then it dawned on me that Alex must still be in the bedroom,
asleep. This wouldn't do. As much as I might desire Connie, I
wouldn't do anything behind my sister's back. I took her hand and
opened my mouth to explain, but she laid a finger across my lips.
"I know what you're thinking, Michael, but you don't have to
worry," she whispered. "Alex suggested I come in and claim my
futon ... actually, she ordered me to! I understand now why you
love her so much. You were worried that I might come between the
two of you, even without meaning to, weren't you?" She saw the
embarrassed admission in my eyes.
"You shouldn't have worried, you know. Michael, you *must* know
how much she loves *you* -- it's in her eyes and her voice every
time she mentions your name. Didn't you know that? Maybe it just
takes an 'outsider' to notice." She smiled again.
"And she knew you'd react like this! She said to tell you to
remember 'the station wagon at the drive-in' ... whatever that
means. But she knows how much San Diego meant to both of us and she
wants us to get reacquainted, she really does. I don't understand
why you haven't married that girl, Michael!"
I couldn't answer that one, not truthfully, so I kissed her
instead. It took a long time to finish and it still wasn't long
enough. Then Connie sat up and pulled the shirt off over her head.
Her small, perfect breasts were as lovely as I remembered, her
belly still concave, her skin still smooth and soft with flat
athletic muscles rippling beneath.
She pulled the sheet off me and lay down again and I turned onto
my side to face her, letting the palm of my hand glide down to her
waist, over the gentle swell of her hip, and along her perfect
thigh. She moved even closer to me, lying on my arm, nuzzling her
head under my chin and raking those nails lightly across my chest.
When I moved my hand around to cup one buttock, she shivered and
made a little sound in her throat. Her hands glided down my body
and found my cock, already half-erect and twitching. She curled
one hand around the shaft, squeezing a little, and cupped my balls
with the other.
Strangely, I wanted only to prolong this tender foreplay.
Neither of us was going anywhere for awhile and I felt entirely at
peace. If it was possible to love another woman even half as much
as I loved my sister, and at the same time, then Connie was the
object of that love.
I was sure now that Alex must have some inkling of how my
affection for this little Aphrodite had grown during the past year,
and that she was pleased, rather than threatened by it. Connie
would never do anything to disturb what Alex and I had; I was now
quite certain of that.
But it still felt a little strange, perhaps because I loved Alex
so deeply both as a woman and as my sister. Connie wasn't someone
I had grown up with; I had met her fully matured, sexually and
intellectually, and I was still discovering marvelous things about
her. If ever it came to a choice between the two of them,
Alexandra was the only contender ... but if there was any fairness
in the world at all, that would never happen.
After awhile, my trapped hand wrapped itself in that long, thick
hair as my other fingers brushed through the small, silky triangle
above her cunt. She bent her knee to give me access and rubbed the
head of my penis slowly across her breastbone. Her nipples had
hardened and were drilling into my ribs.
I eased one finger into her cleft and down the shaft of her
clitoris, finally plucking the center of her like a guitar string.
She jerked a little and gasped, and then laughed silently into my
throat. Her thumb rubbed across the opening in my cock, in
retaliation.
I removed my hand and eased her onto her back, and she spread
her legs for me and stared deep into my eyes. I stared back, nose
to nose, and marveled at what I saw there. I painted her lips with
my tongue and kissed her again as I gradually entered her.
We took our time, as we had with our foreplay, moving slowly
with each other, shifting position slightly to create the maximum
friction. Her knees flexed and moved up and down the sides of my
ribs while her hands wandered across my back. I kissed her long
eyelashes and her cheekbones and the tip of her nose ... and she
mimicked every move.
Then she gradually increased the tempo of our lovemaking,
locking her ankles high on my back and urging me to thrust as
deeply into her as I could. Several times, I could feel my climax
building and I deliberately slowed my pace just enough to prolong
the pleasure. I could tell by the changes in her breathing that
Connie was also holding herself back at each plateau. We were both
sweating freely now, but I felt like I could continue this
exquisite experience forever.
Finally, after what must have been thirty minutes of continual
motion, I could stand it no longer and I began thrusting more
rapidly. Connie hugged herself to me and bent her head back, hair
sprawling above her face. Neither of us made much sound, not
tonight; it simply wasn't needed.
And when I jerked hard against her several times and came in a
blinding rush, she strained against me so that I felt the tremors
rippling through her body. We froze in position for perhaps ten
seconds, holding our breaths, savoring the perfection of the
moment.
Then, finally, I eased my weight down, trying not to smother
her. She let her knees splay to the sides as she gulped deep
breaths. Her hands moved to my head and her fingers combed shakily
through my hair. My cock was still buried in her and neither of us
was in a hurry to remove it. Her lower body jerked in reaction to
my post-orgasmic spasms and she laughed quietly.
"Michael," she whispered huskily, "do you remember what I said
before about love? How I was kind of afraid of it?" I looked down
at her as she licked her lips in hesitation.
"Maybe I shouldn't say this -- maybe I have no right to, with
Alex in the other room -- but I can't help it anymore. I think I
love you. I mean, I love what we have together. I guess that
includes both of you, doesn't it? I wouldn't have thought I could
share a guy with another woman and be glad of it, but I think
that's what I really mean. Oh, I don't really know *what* I
mean...."
She seemed genuinely puzzled and I had no idea what to say.
Could I possibly be this lucky? Or was it selfishness? Jesus.
What I felt for Connie was stronger than ever, and not just because
my cock was still inside her. Maybe what I felt was love, too.
But it was a different sort of love than my deep devotion to Alex.
But that didn't make my feelings for Connie any less strong. But,
but, but....
I carefully withdrew from her and caressed her face and smoothed
her hair. "Connie, if it's really possible to love more than one
person at a time -- *really* love -- then I think I'm in love with
you, too. I don't know. I know that the feelings I have for you
are stronger than I've ever felt for anyone except my -- except
Alex." My near slip decided me: I had to tell her what she was
getting herself into.
"There's something you have to know, Connie, something about
Alex and me that no one else has ever known...." I swallowed hard.
All my carefully developed reflexes fought against divulging what
I had to say. But Connie smiled that warm smile and again put her
finger to my lips.
"I think I know what you're leading up to. When I called to
tell you about this trip, I'm afraid I discovered I had misplaced
your phone number. But I had your address, from your letters. So
I called Information and gave them the last name and the street
address -- and the operator said he had *two* listings for that
name at that address, "Michael" and "Alexandra," and which did I
want? Then he corrected himself and said it was actually the same
phone number, so it didn't matter." She gave me a searching look.
"I could only think of two explanations. One was that you were
married and hadn't told me. But I knew you too well, by then, to
think you'd ever cheat on me, much less on your wife. And you said
once that you'd known her 'all your life'. The other
explanation...." Then she paused, wondering again if she was
correct in her conclusion, not wanting to shock me if she was
wrong. I saved her the worry.
"You're right, Connie: Alex and I are brother and sister. It's
The Secret." I pronounced the capital letters. "It's been very
hard for us the past ten years, getting used to the idea of being
in love and keeping everyone else unaware of it." I sighed,
relieved that she knew. "Does the fact that you figured it out and
you're here anyway mean you aren't, uh, revolted...?"
"You forget, I'm an anthropologist by profession. I imagine I
can accept almost any manifestation of love that two people can
find for themselves. Look at me, here with you! No, I'm not
'revolted'. I'm even a little surprised to find that I'm not
particularly bothered by it. Theory and practice can be very
different." This conversation was becoming oddly scholarly,
considering the circumstances.
"The two of you have never been able to tell anyone about your
feelings for each other, have you? When we all feel more
comfortable -- when you two are comfortable about my knowing your
secret, I mean -- would you, if you want to, would you tell me
about it?" She touched my cheek and seemed amazed at the tears she
found there.
* * * * *
We lay for awhile longer in our warm embrace but neither of us
was ready to sleep, not now. Eventually, I climbed to my feet and
lifted Connie to hers. She clung to me and I stroked her and
hugged her yet again.
"We have to talk, don't we?" she said somberly. "All three of
us, I mean."
"Yep. And we should do it now. Somehow, I doubt that Alex is
asleep."
We walked into the bedroom still naked, arms around each other.
As I expected, Alex was sprawled on her back, hands tucked behind
her pillow and eyes lazily half-open. The sheet came only to her
waist and her naked breasts jiggled in the way I loved as she
scooted up into a sitting position. Both of us must have appeared
apprehensive because Alex gave us a fond smile and held out her
arms.
We climbed onto the bed on either side of her and she pushed the
cover down so all of us could be comfortably naked together. My
sister looked uncommonly pleased with herself, as if she had
personally engineered my reunion with Connie. Then she took the
other girl's hands and interlaced their fingers. It was an
affectionate gesture of acceptance and I began to relax. This was
going to work.
Alex looked Connie up and down, taking in her smooth, trim
diver's body, and the lustrous black hair floating around her
shoulders, and her suddenly shy smile.
"Connie, when I first saw you at the airport, I told my brother
you were absolutely beautiful -- my exact words -- and I understood
why he was so taken with you." Connie and I exchanged glances at
the words "my brother" and Alex didn't miss that, either. Her
smile became even warmer and softer.
"Yeah, I knew he'd tell you: He had to. I know how his mind
works and he's not capable of lying to someone he really cares
about." Her face became more solemn. "Do you love him?"
Connie studied my sister's face and nodded slowly, and
swallowed.
Alex was blinking tears and at first I didn't understand. Then
she squeezed Connie's hands, and gulped, and said "Thank you! I'm
so glad!" She quickly pulled the smaller girl to her and hugged her
tightly as they overbalanced back against the pillow. Connie was
sobbing quietly with happiness and relief. I knew my face was
trembling with the pent-up emotion of the moment as I sat there
cross-legged and gazed at the only two people in the world whom I
cared about.
We spent the rest of that first night sandwiched together on the
bed and we all seemed to take turns being in the middle. Once,
when I rose to half-wakefulness, I found Connie stretched out along
Alex's other side, her leg cast loosely over my sister's thigh;
their hair was a tangled auburn-and-black puddle spread across the
pillow. My arm was flung across Alex's midriff, my fingers
brushing Connie's hip.
I knew I didn't deserve to be as happy as I was, and I knew
there would be problems if we really did undertake to establish a
three-way partnership. I knew I would never lose Alex ... and I
hoped I wouldn't lose Connie. Our public deception would become
more complicated, even after Connie returned to Honolulu. But we
could deal with all that as the need arose. I stroked Connie's
flank once, lightly, so as not to waken her, and drifted back to
sleep.
We slept in the next morning, which was Saturday, and when we
finally began to stir I found myself in the middle of the sandwich.
I turned my head and my nose brushed Alex's cheek. I nuzzled her
ear and spoke as quietly as I could.
"Sweetheart, you are, without exception, the most wonderful
woman in the history of the world." I meant it, too. "I'm still
not quite sure what happened last night -- but I know you're the
key to it. Thank you...."
I turned her face with one fingertip and kissed her, long and
slow. I thought back over all the years we had struggled together
to nurture this love between us and I tried to communicate those
memories and my love through my lips to hers. We not only
understood each other's desires, we accepted and shared them. Alex
seemed to melt into my body. How could two people, even siblings
and lovers, be any closer?
My sister opened her eyes and raised her head just enough to
peer across my body. She smothered a laugh and pointed with her
chin. I turned to see what was so funny. Connie lay on her back
with her neck arched, her eyes screwed tightly shut, and her lips
puckered in a cartoon-kiss.
"Hey," I said softly as I hugged her against me. "We don't do
that here."
She kept the pose but opened one eye and batted her lashes at
me. "Nue?" she inquired brightly through pursed lips.
"No. We do this." I buried my free hand in her hair and
descended on that full, inviting mouth, kissing her as thoroughly
as I had Alex. She, too, seemed to melt against me, returning the
kiss with tender single-mindedness. And I felt my sister's long
fingers softly caressing my shoulders and neck. Alex was sending
me a message I understood very well: This is the way it should be,
she was saying. Accept it and don't worry about the future.
When the lengthy mutual surrender between myself and this
miniature goddess with the ancient eyes finally reached a
satisfactory conclusion (we had to come up for air), both girls sat
up spontaneously and reached across me to each other. Slender
hands moved over new territory, touching hair and cheeks and
collarbones. Then their lips joined, each woman wanting and
needing to communicate her emotions directly. They leaned closer
so that their nipples brushed together.
Their kiss was tender and beautiful and, watching them silently,
I discovered a new array of emotions I'd never felt before. They
were so different in so many ways and I wondered if I was the
bridge between them. Each was undeniably heterosexual, yet the
closeness of their bodies and the fusion of their lips and the
writhing of their tongues seemed obvious and entirely natural.
Each girl spread her hands across the other's breasts, each ran her
fingers through the other's hair, and the kiss went on and on.
I understood that this was a first for both of them -- and that
what they were sharing didn't extend to other women. It was unique
between themselves ... and I was a part of it, too. Finally,
slowly, they parted and settled back on folded knees, blinking at
each other in amazement, and smiling, and weeping silently. They
held tight to each other's hands across me and I was careful not to
interrupt the moment.
"Michael and I have always had each other," Alex began slowly.
"But there's never been anyone else we could really share ourselves
with. We've become like one person over the years, Connie. And it
was so lonely, sometimes, being shut out of the world by ourselves.
But now..." She couldn't finish so I completed her thought --
which, of course, was also mine.
"But now there's you, Connie." I gently stroked her thigh, and
Alex's. "Now there's two of us ... or three, however you want to
look at it." Alex swallowed and nodded agreement. "You're like
the third leg of a tripod, Connie -- giving us a stability we never
knew we needed. Until now. And we *both* love you for it." My
mind was leading me down a new pathway even as I spoke.
"Remember, in San Diego, you said you were distrustful of
commitments because you weren't sure if you could love only one
person? Now you don't have to be afraid. Love us both and let us
both love you -- that's twice as much love as any 'normal' person
is likely to find."
Both of them were watching me and listening, and the bed was
becoming damp with tears. I sat up, cross-legged, and put one arm
around each girl's shoulders. They did the same, interlocking all
three of us in an embrace of acceptance and understanding. Three
heads touching, three pairs of hands clutching, three bodies, each
leaning against the others -- one person in three forms. It was
what we all desired, now that we began to comprehend what had
happened. We might be physically separated but never again would
Alex, Connie, or I ever be alone.
* * * * *
The next two weeks were glorious. I taught my two sections of
freshman American history and worked on my dissertation. Alex went
off to her job at the PR firm and struggled to get new copywriters
to produce coherent English. And Connie soaked up the intricacies
of Polynesian anthropology at the university museum. And then we
came home and immersed ourselves in each other. Alex and I had
found a third dimension in our lovemaking, and Connie had twice as
much exploring to do.
That first week, we were hesitant and careful, edging our ways
into this new arrangement. Connie would hover above me from
behind, sheltering me with her shining, raven-black curtain of
hair, and offering her nipples to my lips so I could suck them into
quivering rigidity -- and at the same time, Alex would crouch
astride my cock and fuck herself into a panting sweat. Each of
them would watch the other's actions and their arousal would
redouble.
Then Connie would lie on her back, knees raised behind her
elbows, while my cock plunged into her marvelously tight cunt --
and Alex would keep both her middle fingers busy teasing our
assholes in counterpoint. The plethora of sensations was
astonishing.
We let the urge take us as it would. More than once I was
roused (and aroused) in the middle of the night by a warm, wet
mouth fastened on the head of my penis. It might last only a few
minutes and then we'd be asleep again -- but, ah! What dreams!
Connie was a natural tease, in an entirely playful and extremely
erotic way. She also liked a little social danger with her sex, as
I discovered later that week.
Thursday was the off-day at the museum and she had come over to
meet me in front of Bancroft Hall so I could walk her on a tour
around the campus. It had rained earlier so I wasn't surprised
when she showed up in a mid-thigh red oilskin slicker, buttoned up
over tight jeans and heels too high to be practical. Being so
small, though, she'd had years of experience navigating in high
heels, and they certainly suited her.
As we walked, I noticed male heads turning as we passed,
students and faculty both. Connie was always aware of her effect
on men and took great delight in it. In this case, since the lady
was with me, I very much enjoyed showing her off.
When we passed a small grove of redwoods, Connie led me beneath
them and stood with her head tilted back, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at
their size. Then she took me behind the trees, out of sight of the
sidewalk, and coaxed my head down for a kiss. That was fine with
me, and I slipped an arm around her and ran my hand over her ass.
The cleft between her cheeks was very obvious to the touch -- and
I suddenly realized I hadn't felt any pockets or belt loops.
Connie giggled into my mouth and took my hand in hers and guided
it between the snaps on the front of her slicker. There was no
shirt and no jeans in there, only Connie. I stepped back in
surprise and she demurely raised one side of the raincoat to show
me where her homemade denim leggings stopped, at the tops of her
thighs. Just as well I hadn't offered to hold her coat!
We continued our stroll a bit longer, but the vision of Connie's
gloriously naked body moving under that oilskin made me incredibly
horny. Finally, we stopped and sat on a bench a few yards off the
path. Connie put her hands in her coat pockets ... but they were
in almost to her elbows before it dawned on me that the pockets
must be bottomless. I saw movement under the oilskin in her lap,
one hand reappeared, and a moist fingertip left an aromatic spot
under my nose.
"Any inspirations?" she asked, and the smoke began to drift from
beneath her lashes. The front of my slacks were in danger of a
puncture. I put my left arm around her shoulders, very innocent to
any passers-by, and slid my right hand into the vacated coat
pocket. Her fingers met mine and led them down between her thighs.
She scooted her ass forward on the bench a few inches and spread
her knees as much as she dared. Then, as she spread her labia, I
inserted a finger or two and went slowly to work on her cunt.
The challenge, of course, was that she absolutely could not lose
control -- but it was a close thing. I flicked my fingertip
against her swollen clit and she gave a tiny jerk and bit her lower
lip. Her gaze never left mine, and as I moved my finger up and
down, and in and out, and 'round and about, her eyes became all
pupil. When I felt her pulse quicken and heard her breathing
accelerate, I fastened my mouth to hers and sucked as strongly as
I could on her tongue. Her reaction was the same as it had been in
the hotel pool in San Diego. She moaned and clutched my sleeve and
her cunt muscles spasmed. Even her long tongue vibrated. In a
sense, she came in my mouth.
We had to sit a few minutes longer while she collected herself.
And when we finally headed back to the car, I had to hold my
briefcase awkwardly in front of me, to hide the stain on the front
of my trousers.
So far, all our three-way sex had actually been two-way with a
sidecar. That Friday evening -- the one-week anniversary of our
darling Connie's arrival -- the action began to even up.
We discussed (very briefly!) what we should do with Saturday,
the first opportunity we'd had for all three of us to be together
all day. The unanimous vote was that we would not leave the
apartment, even to eat; we would put the answering machine on
automatic pick-up; we wouldn't even bother with clothing for the
day, unless it served an erotic purpose; and, for at least 24
hours, we would indulge ourselves and each other until we collapsed
from sexual exhaustion. Saturday would be reserved for love,
sex,... and experimentation. We slept that night all in a heap on
the bed, like puppies. Caresses and kisses were exchanged, but
they were relaxed and undemanding.
* * * * *
Alex and I had been so utterly comfortable in each other's
constant presence for so long, we no longer consciously thought
about it. But Connie's welcome addition to our private world
required deeply-rooted psychological realignments. And we tried to
go about it systematically.
Connie's first fascinated questions about our relationship were
still hesitant. She didn't want to embarrass us or overstep some
unknown boundary. We managed gradually to convince her that were
NO boundaries -- not for her.
We volunteered experiences of joy and of pain that we would
never have confided to anyone else, even if we had been an
"ordinary" couple. We recounted the fears of our earliest
adolescent relationship, when we didn't understand what was
happening to us. We remembered our first, tentative sexual
encounters, and we held hands and got sentimental as we described
for Connie our discovery that we were in love. We laughed about
our high school escapades and our experiences with others, now
fondly remembered, and how we had often sat up late to compare
those experiences.
Alex somberly told of the few dates gone wrong, by which she'd
had to learn not to trust everyone as much as she trusted her
brother. And I looked away when my sister told Connie about the
time I had rescued her from a brutal date and had come
frighteningly close to committing murder in my rage at her physical
mistreatment. I still felt queasy when I remembered her bruises.
Some of Connie's questions had an academic tinge. Quite apart
from her new emotional involvement, she was trying hard to
understand the foundations and everyday dynamics of our two-body
mutual orbit. And that led us to try to explain ideas and feelings
we had simply accepted before.
This whole process, this unveiling of our most private selves to
another, developed a therapeutic component we hadn't realized we
needed -- and we were grateful. And Connie, though surprised,
amused, sympathetic, indignant on our behalf, and professional, by
turns, was never judgmental.
All this was spread through our long evening hours together
during that first week, and by Friday Connie knew more about the
two of us than any "outsider" ever had, including our late parents.
Alex and I also knew, without having to ask, that Connie would
unburden herself to us, as well, when she thought herself ready.
But not tomorrow; Saturday was to be time-out for fun and games.
There was very little clothing to put in the wash by Saturday
night -- mostly bed sheets. Connie wore a short woollen pullover
when she got chilly, which kept her upper body warm enough but also
emphasized her firm, bare ass and her small, triangular pubic
patch. Alex achieved the same effect with a cropped tee-shirt.
Being a warm-blooded creature, I simply remained naked and enjoyed
the peek-a-boo scenery ... when I wasn't occupied in rearranging
it.
We had fruit for breakfast,... with extra juice. We found that
Alex's pussy would accommodate twelve grapes, while Connie could
hold only nine. Tasty, too. And watching a peeled banana moving
slowly in and out of Connie's cunt did wonders for my appetite.
But I had to take the girls' word for it that a cock tasted better
with smooth peanut butter than with chunky. We knew such games
were pretty silly -- but what did we care? Anyway, it was at that
point that we reached a level of genuine three-way participation.
I lay sprawled on the floor with my head cushioned in Connie's
lap while Alex licked the last of the peanut butter from my cock.
I loved the satiny feel of Connie's skin. I wondered if it was an
"Asian" thing. Alex's thighs were also soft and smoothly muscular,
and I had always loved stroking and kissing them, but the texture
was somehow different.
I turned my head and kissed Connie's flat belly. Her fingers,
which had been exploring my eyebrows, moved to touch my lips; I
kissed them, too. Having begun, I decided to kiss her all over.
Curling my arm back around her hips, I shifted onto my side so
my tongue could reach toward the secret part of her. I explored
her short pubic hair with my mouth; like the cascades that framed
her face, it was absolutely black, and absolutely straight, and
absolutely beautiful. It felt so soft under my lips. Connie
wrapped an arm protectively around my head and sighed.
Alex had paused in her ministrations when I moved my hips. Now
she pushed my knee up out of her way, moved my balls forward with
her nose, and buried her face in my crotch, licking and nibbling
that nameless region between my genitals and my anus. Which led
me, in turn, to urge Connie over onto her side so I could crawl
face-first up into her pussy. The scent of sex she was already
beginning to produce was delicious. (I've never understood why
women wear perfume for the presumed benefit of their men when a
woman's natural aroma can be so intoxicating.)
I carefully traced the folds of her cunt lips with my tongue and
watched as the tiny muscles around them flickered. She had hooked
an elbow behind her knee to give me full access to her -- no effort
at all for someone as trim and athletic as she was.
Then Connie's pelvis jiggled about and Alex simultaneously
paused in her nibbling. I peered out to see what was happening and
found the three links of our bodies closing into an unbroken chain.
Connie was moving up Alex's legs practically hand over hand and my
sister was doing her best to help. In a moment, all three of us
lay in a much closer circle, each with one knee propped in the air
and a head burrowing eagerly between a twitching pair of thighs.
Alex moaned softly and stretched as Connie's pointed tongue
entered her cunt; it had been several years, I thought, since any
tongue but mine had explored that passage. My sister began to suck
at my balls, which was a sensation always guaranteed to stiffen
every hair and organ on my body. I gently pushed back the cocoa-
tinted sheath at the peak of Connie's cunt and sucked noisily at
her protruding clitoris. The energy we were creating ran round and
round the circle, gaining amperage with each lap.
My hands were squeezing and caressing her firm little bottom and
I remembered something else from our night in San Diego. I left
her clit (which brought a small, muffled protest) and blazed a
trail with the flat of my tongue back toward the brown pucker that
encircled her asshole. A few seconds later, my sister's tongue
followed the same route back between my legs to the edge of my
rectum. It couldn't be a coincidence: I was sure Connie's tongue
was rimming Alex's hole as well.
Around the ring of corrugated muscle I went, zeroing in on my
target. This was an oral variation Alex and I seldom got around
to, and the sensation was not only unusual but sublimely erotic.
We were synchronized, now, like torpedo bombers over a hidden
submarine. Our tongues moved faster and faster and then, all at
the same moment, plunged into the depths beyond the rim. My cock
was rigid and straining but I was already beyond the point of mere
orgasm. The strong thrust of my sister's tongue into my ass seemed
blurrily to be the result of my own assault on Connie. I hoped the
girls were experiencing something similar.
Instead of just darting in and out of that beautiful opening, I
continued to probe with my tongue as deeply as I could, which
surprised me in a dim sort of way. This sort of thing was right on
the esthetic edge of what I would ordinarily be willing to do, but
I was aware only of the intense sexual pleasure I was giving Connie
and receiving from Alex, and I didn't want it to end yet. Alex's
tongue continued to writhe madly in my ass, too, so I assumed
Connie was doing the same service for her. The spark of electricity
jumped from each of us to the next, tripling our shared ecstasy.
When we finally collapsed, I hugged Connie's hips tightly and
kissed the vee just below her breastbone. Alex held my aching
penis and rubbed it against her face until my climax broke through
and fountained semen across her flushed breasts. And I could see
Connie's hands sliding shakily up and down my sister's thighs. It
was a long time before any of us was able to change position. Or
wanted to.
* * * * *
After we recovered and were able to stand upright without
assistance, I excused myself for a bathroom break. My lower body
was in turmoil and I ended up hunkered on the can for half an hour.
When I emerged, feeling several pounds lighter but much steadier,
I followed the sound of low feminine voices to the kitchen. It
didn't sound like an ordinary conversation as I peered through the
crack between the door and the frame before entering; I didn't want
to interrupt anything unnecessarily.
Alex was sitting on one of the straight, ladder-back wooden
kitchen chairs, feet flat on the floor, knees spread. Connie sat
astride her lap facing her, legs dangling behind the chair. Her
arms were draped loosely about my sister's neck while Alex's hands
stroked her hips. Their voices had dropped to a murmuring chord
and I wasn't sure whether they were speaking actual words or only
exchanging the meaningless cooing sounds lovers make.
Connie leaned slowly forward and licked lightly at Alex's
upturned face, finally fastening on her mouth. My sister made long
stroking passes with her hands, moving from the smaller girl's
shoulderblades to the out-thrust curve of her perfect ass. I
simply stood and watched, spellbound. They were beautiful, very
sensual women, and I had an intensely personal interest in both of
them. Watching them make slow love, I felt like a privileged
audience of one rather than a peeper.
I considered joining them but quickly decided against it. I'd
had Alex's caring and love all to myself most of my life, and
Connie and I had shared that memorable night in San Diego without
my sister's presence. It was only fair that they have as much time
together as they needed, just for themselves.
Their kiss ended very gradually as Connie hooked her heels on
the chair rungs and lifted herself up until her shimmering breasts
were level with Alex's eager mouth. My sister cupped those shallow
globes in her hands and flicked her tongue around first one nipple
and then the other. Then she picked one as her favorite and began
milking it with her lips.
Watching, I felt a "ghost" tingle in my own functionless
nipples; Alex had given me that same treatment on occasion and I
knew quite well the mini-spasms it caused. Multiply that by all
the nerve endings in a woman's breasts, I thought, and it was a
wonder Connie wasn't creaming all over Alex's stomach.
Actually, Connie had arched her neck back and was pulling Alex's
face against her body with both hands. She was also balanced on
the chair rungs with her knees half-bent; her legs trembled visibly
and her ass muscles clenched and moved with the tension.
Eventually, even Connie's physical stamina gave out and she
settled with a plop on Alex's thighs. Her nipples, which I had
*never* seen in a fully relaxed state, seemed to have extended
another half-inch. The two girls embraced feverishly, hands moving
everywhere, kissing whatever they could reach. Even Connie's
little-girl toes were wiggling and I thought I heard her whisper
"Oh, God...!"
My benign voyeurism had pumped up my cock as stiff as a post.
I didn't want to waste such a rousing hard-on by masturbating but
I couldn't stand my present condition much longer. I was on the
point of opening the kitchen door and fastening myself to the first
female who came within reach, when the two girls hopped up from the
chair and hurried up the back stairs toward the bedroom, hand in
hand.
I stepped into the vacant kitchen and inhaled the estrogen fog;
the room smelled like a cathouse, pheromones all over the place.
I could no more resist following my two lovelies up to the bedroom
than I could resist breathing.
When I got there, Alex was already on her back on the bed with
Connie in a '69' position above her. My sister could barely reach
the smaller girl's crotch, but by propping up her head on both
pillows she had managed it. Her fingers were spreading Connie's
soft folds. It was difficult to see what Connie's lowered head was
doing, behind that veil of hair.
I settled as quietly as I could in the old overstuffed chair in
the corner. At least I didn't have any clothing to get rid of.
Alex saw the movement from the corner of her eye and smiled in my
direction. We locked smokey gazes and she raised an inquiring
eyebrow. Did I want to join in? I blew her a little kiss and
shook my head. I would watch for awhile and that was all right
with her, too. My cock was still stiff and I took a grip on it
where my sister could see. She grinned and returned her attentions
to her present partner.
Connie's hands were busy now, and I guessed she was parting the
folds of flesh, clearing the way to her own target. Her head moved
lower and Alex's toes curled. Not to be left behind, Alex lifted
her head a bit and began plowing her tongue up and down the length
of Connie's gleaming cunt. Connie pushed her crotch as low and as
far back as she could without losing mouth contact herself. In
seconds, both women sounded like they were slurping hot cocoa,
sucking and licking and moaning, as clouds of steam seemed to rise
from each end of this two-headed beast.
My reaction was as spectacular as it was predictable. I was
getting a cramp in my arm muscle from jerking myself off so
energetically. I didn't want to come yet -- in fact, I was forming
a plan for that. I watched the two heated bodies squirming on the
bed and fought to maintain my own control.
The time came, though, as the girls were reaching a fever pitch,
when I knew it was now or never for me: Move it or lose it time.
I got up, cock still in hand, and moved closer. Alex had had an
orgasm, I thought (though you can't always tell with a woman, even
when you know her *very* well), and was doing her best to bring
Connie off along with her. Neither of them had any special lesbian
inclinations -- they were individuals making love -- and I was a
little surprised they had reached such a level of expertise so
easily. (On the other hand, what did I know? Perhaps women are
simply more subtle and articulate lovers than men, by birth.)
I stood at the foot of the bed, behind my sister's head, and she
paused and reached back to stroke my leg. I climbed onto the
mattress, knees on either side of Alex's head -- and Connie's
calves -- and ran my hands gently over Connie's back to get her
attention.
"Connie, love, I have something here that's badly in need of a
home...."
She raised her head enough to murmur "Do it! I'm not used to
this; I think I need it, too!" She wiggled her ass a little for
emphasis. I held her hips and urged her back toward me; I didn't
want to topple over and crush them both. Connie bent her knees
more, laid her cheek against Alex's belly, and gripped the backs of
her thighs.
As I stropped my cock on the margins of that little brown cunt,
I felt Alex's lips nibbling at my balls -- an extra added
attraction. Then I slid into Connie's warm, juicy vagina and her
spine straightened. I tried to move slowly but it was a struggle.
Alex had propped up her head again and was slurping in my scrotum
while her hands roamed over my legs, my hips, my ass. The physical
feedback was electric.
It take long for either Connie or I to reach the brink of
orgasm, but it wasn't like we had launched ourselves from a
standing start. I held her hips more tightly as I jerked once,
then twice. Connie was gasping for breath as she climaxed. It was
a wonderful feeling but I quickly found it wasn't quite over.
I became aware that Alex had worked her hand up between my groin
and Connie's ass and was trying to get her fingers around my cock
as I pulled back for another ejaculation.
"No -- gimme ... I want it, too! Please, Michael!" The
vehemence of her demand made my cock twitch. So I left Connie's
luscious cunt and my loving sister pulled my sticky cock down and
engulfed it with her mouth. It was already hypersensitive and her
tongue swirling around the head made all the nearby nerve endings
jitter wildly. I hadn't finished emptying my balls and Alex saw to
it that not a drop of my semen was wasted, swallowing rapidly as it
jetted against the back of her throat. Then she flicked the tip of
my cock with her tongue and that released a final torrent. She
sounded very pleased with herself.
When Connie coasted down from her orgasm, she crawled off Alex
and cuddled up to one side of her; I did the same on the other side
and we hugged and kissed and stroked each other in lazy weariness.
We passed several hours like that -- sated, happy, totally at ease
with each other. Toward dusk, we crawled out of bed and made our
way, arms around each other, to the bathroom. After our jubilant
orgy we all were badly in need of a shower.
When I was house-hunting, back during that summer before Alex's
freshman year, a bathroom with a larger-than-usual shower was high
on my list of desirable features. It narrowed the prospects
considerably, but our time together under the hot spray was
important to us both. A major factor in taking a lease on this
mis-located brownstone was that it *was* older than most apartments
and houses I had looked at. The bathtub was a claw-footed monster
big enough for a mast, a rudder, and a crew of six. The important
thing was, it was easily large enough for three people who were on
very friendly terms.
Connie arranged the Mickey-and-Minnie vinyl shower curtain and
cranked up the hot water while my sister and I readied a stack of
thick towels and got out the big sponges. The sides of the tub
came up to my knees when I stood on the outside and I had to give
little Connie a steadying hand while she climbed in. She flipped
the shower lever on and the bathroom instantly filled with clouds
of steam; no wonder the wallpaper was peeling at the upper corners.
We were too beat for much horseplay, but gentle, quiet loving
under the torrent of hot water was another matter. We all soaped
each other, paying special attention to body cavities and
protuberances. Alex laid her head back against my shoulder and we
kissed, long and slow, while Connie carefully lathered up my
sister's breasts and belly.
Then we double-teamed Connie, covering all of her tight, smooth
body with suds while she basked happily in the attention. Then the
girls stood back-to-back, entwining their arms and letting their
soap-slick buttocks slide against each other -- and I enjoyed the
exquisite titillation of cupping my sister's sweet, taut breast in
one hand and Connie's smaller, springier breast in the other.
Finally, both my "best girls" moved in on me, each sucking one
of my nipples simultaneously. Then there were four nipples
fluttering against my cock, my ass, my legs -- everywhere they
could reach. It wasn't really a matter of sexual arousal -- we
were all aroused to some degree all the time, now -- but of giving
each other tactile pleasure, and in that we were certainly
successful.
We hit the sack early that Saturday night -- much earlier than
we had expected to. We were young and full of energy and hormones,
and any of us could have jogged from the UC campus down to the Bay
Bridge without difficulty, yet we had exhausted ourselves in only
twelve hours. And that's the best way to do it, I thought, as I
floated off to dreamland with my arms around two beautiful women
and their heads snuggled against my chest.
* * * * *
The next morning, sitting at our kitchen table with the largest
mugs of coffee we could organize, we discussed what to do with the
remainder of the weekend. We could simply repair to the bedroom
and no one would vote it down, but I wanted to show off the two
lovely ladies I had been blessed with.
So I proposed we go into the City, stroll around Golden Gate
Park and the Palace of Fine Arts, visit Coit Tower and Mission
Dolores -- the usual sights, but the most dramatic. The spots Alex
and I knew showed off San Francisco at its best, the places we
returned to again and again ourselves.
Then the cocktail hour at the Top of the Mark, on Nob Hill,
followed by dinner at Donatello (if we could get reservations). My
sister and I were aficionados of Northern Italian cuisine and
Connie -- no surprise -- was a seafood junkie: Donatello was one of
the best restaurants in the City for both. Expensive, but worth
every penny -- and this was a very special occasion.
The weather in S.F. that afternoon was glorious, comfortably
cool but sunny and dry. The frisbee-freaks thronged the park and
young lovers huddled under the trees. The girls wore their warm-
weather best and drew attention everywhere we went; walking arm in
arm with them, I basked in their reflected radiance.
Alex, with her long legs, had chosen a pleated minidress that
reminded me of a cheerleader outfit. It was dazzling white, as
were her low heels, and showed off her tan nicely. Connie
preferred a blazing red miniskirt cut straight and slim and a black
sleeveless top -- her favorite colors. She also wore low heels;
San Francisco isn't a high-heel city when you're walking and
hopping on and off cable cars. But both women carried large purses
in preparation for the evening and I was carrying my basic blue
blazer and my sister's white jacket over my arm.
By 5:00, we had seen the sights on our list and Connie was
mentally comparing Honolulu's cost of living with that of San
Francisco. Even coming from the Islands, she was visibly smitten
with the City by the Bay; it's hard not to be. San Francisco can
be dirty, dangerous, decadent, and demoralizing -- but it's also
exhilarating, intoxicating, and romantic, and (when conditions are
just right) so heartbreakingly beautiful that I can't imagine
*anyone* wanting to live anywhere else.
We strolled into the Mark Hopkins and split up at the rest rooms
on the 2nd Floor. When we met on the Mezzanine a few minutes
later, Alex's walking shoes and ordinary pantyhose had been
exchanged for white patent heels and smoky gray hose with a seam up
the back, and she was wearing her linen jacket. Her freshly-
brushed auburn mane shone. Connie had changed to high red heels
that matched her mini; over the black top she now wore a short gold
lame jacket that contrasted electrically with her thick black hair.
And I had put on my tie and blazer.
We went up the elevator to the Top with several other couples
and I was aware of the curious/envious glances of the men --
especially when Connie laid her head against my left shoulder and
took a possessive grip on my arm, while my sister interlaced her
fingers with mine and touched the back of my hand to her lips.
We spent a delightful hour sipping our drinks on the outer ring
of the Top, watching the City rotate past; we were in a curved
booth so that, again, I could have the pleasure of a girl on each
side of me. We all three held hands on the table top and talked
quietly about this marvelous new triangular relationship that had
come into being so suddenly. We must have caused considerable
gossip among the waiters.
When Alex made a hip-swaying journey to the powder room, Connie
and I squeezed each other's hands in delight and barely suppressed
our glee at the surreptitious glances she got from other patrons of
both sexes. When Alex returned, she said another woman not much
older than she had tried to pump her (diplomatically) for
information about our little threesome.
"I just smiled and told her we were both your devoted fiancees,"
she said straightfaced. Nothing would do, of course, but that
Connie make the same trip, whether she needed to or not.
"She's still there," Connie reported on her return. "She asked
me if we were both really engaged to you." She poked my gently in
the ribs. "She couldn't understand how two women could share the
same man without being jealous of each other. I just told her you
were such a world-class lover, we were always too exhausted to
worry about it!" She could barely stifle her giggles.
Then it was a short walk across Union Square to Donatello, where
we stuffed ourselves with veal marsala and scampi, and wine from
the Esti vineyards. We swore to each other that we couldn't eat
another bite ... until the pastry cart came around and we fell all
over the chocolate and orange and hazelnut concoctions.
Our waiter that evening was a young Genoese named Pietro who
confided that he was really an artist -- but one must earn a
living, Signori! I could spot a closet romantic a block away
(takes one to know one) and I asked him if he thought it was
possible for a man to be genuinely in love with more than one woman
at a time.
He smiled broadly at the three of us. "Of course, Signori! But
it can be a terrible problem: Does one man *deserve* the love of
more than one woman in *return*?"
I looked back at him more soberly. "Pietro, it is indeed a
terrible problem, and a heavy burden. Such a fortunate man must
strive very hard to be worthy of such a rare gift."
I looked into Alex's eyes and then Connie's, and then I had
temporary difficulty seeing anything clearly. Both of my darlings
leaned over and kissed me on the cheek at almost the same moment.
Even Pietro looked a little misty. He also got his largest tip of
the evening.
* * * * *
The second half of our two-week odyssey of discovery was a
little different. The starting gun had fired, the first sprint was
past, and now we found ourselves settling in comfortably and
naturally for the long haul. We worked during the days, went out
most evenings to introduce Connie to our favorite haunts around
Berkeley (and to show her off -- "an old friend of ours" -- to some
of our acquaintances), and spent much of each night making love.
The sex wasn't as frantic, now. Instead, we refined our techniques
with each other and made all the reassuring noises and gestures
that new lovers make.
I enjoyed falling asleep with a woman I adored and a female body
I constantly lusted after cuddled up to me on each side. I would
wake once or twice each night and lie there listening to their
breathing and delicate snoring, and I'd fall in love all over
again. Often, Alex's arm would be draped across my chest while
Connie's arm crossed my body from the other direction a few inches
lower.
Wednesday night, I woke gradually from an enormously sexy dream
and found both of them quietly licking my quivering cock from both
sides at once.
"It's just us," Alex whispered.
"Thank God for that,..." I murmured and simply lay there,
indolently enjoying the attention. I repaid both of them Thursday
night by very quietly and gently sucking at each girl's tits until
she was moaning in her sleep.
Saturday was a sad day in spite of the joy we took from simply
being together. It would be our last day and our last night
together, at least for awhile, because Connie had to be on her
plane at 10:30 Sunday morning.
None of us felt like carousing as we had the previous weekend.
Without any real discussion, we spent the day quietly and
domestically. We made sure all of Connie's clothing was gathered up
from around the house, and was washed and packed. We collected all
the books and souvenirs she had acquired in to two short weeks and
packed them in a couple of cartons for direct shipment. And we
made ourselves more and more miserable in the process. When Monday
morning came, Connie wouldn't be there with her broad smile, her
dancing eyes, her devious puns. She wouldn't be there to stand on
tiptoe and kiss each of us good morning. She wouldn't.... Hell.
In mid-afternoon, I was standing at the bedroom window staring
morosely out at the gray sky, when Alex stuck her head in the door
and beckoned urgently. She looked worried. I quickly followed her
down to the living room and discovered Connie sitting on the big,
old overstuffed sofa, the one that had been in Alex's room when we
were young.
She was huddled against the back cushion with her legs drawn up
protectively and her arms hugging them. Her face was pressed down
against her knees; her cascading hair hid almost all of her from
view. It wasn't until I saw her shoulders move that I realized she
was crying.
"She won't talk to me, Michael." My sister looked at me
anxiously and urged me toward her with one hand. Whatever had
upset Connie was upsetting Alex as well.
"I don't think she wants talking," I replied and went to the
small, huddled figure. Curled up in a ball like that, she seemed
not much bigger than a child, never mind that she was older than
me. I wasn't quite sure what to do, either.
I sat carefully next to her and leaned close, and I heard her
muffled sobs. They made my chest ache. I gently stroked her head
and let my hand linger on the back of her neck, a warm presence she
couldn't ignore.
"Sweetheart, what is it? Connie? Please tell me what we've
done...." I spoke softly, as I would to a child. I was sure we
*hadn't* done anything to upset little Connie -- and I was pretty
sure she wouldn't let that question go by.
She finally raised her head and looked at me; her lovely eyes
were swollen and red and the knees of her jeans were soaked with
her tears. Her mouth was contorted with something like anguish. It
was a few minutes before she could regain some measure of control
but she still had difficulty speaking. She *did* seem like a
little girl.
"Oh -- it -- it wasn't -- anything -- you did, Mi-- Michael! Or
-- or Alex. I -- I *love* you guys! I just -- I just -- don't
want to -- to go *home*...!" And she broke down again and buried
her face in her hands. I glanced over at Alex, holding her
clenched hands under her chin in sympathetic pain, and she moved
around to Connie's other side.
"Connie, darling, we love you, too!" My sister seemed on the
verge of tears herself as she took the other girl's hand.
I could think of only one immediate therapy. I slipped one arm
behind Connie's knees and the other around her shoulders, scooped
her up, and set her on my lap. She buried her face in my chest and
her small frame shook with renewed sobs. I put my arms around her
and held her and rocked her a little, making hushing sounds and
stroking her hair.
It might have looked silly to an outsider, but it worked, over
a period or ten or fifteen minutes -- and it dawned on me quite
suddenly that I had used the word "Outsider" in my mind in its old
sense of "everyone but Alex-and-me." Connie had become fixed in my
thoughts as one of "us."
She snuffled and gulped and blotted her eyes on the hem of her
tee shirt. Then she saw the large damp spot on my shirt and made
a "huh" sound, which was as close as she could get to a laugh. She
didn't look embarrassed at her loss of control; she knew that
honest emotion, even as intense as this had been, was never
anything to be ashamed of in this house.
"I thought I could get through today without losing it." She
looked sadly at the two of us. "But it just hit me all of a sudden
that I won't *be* here tomorrow morning. God, I want so much to
stay here with you -- or take both of you with me. There *has* to
be a way for us to stay together!"
I cupped her chin in my hand. "Sweetheart, we *will* find a
way. It'll take a while and I have *no* idea *how* we'll do it --
but we will. I promise you, Connie: We'll find a way."
I hadn't noticed that Alex had moved over until her arms circled
my neck from behind and I felt her cheek press against mine. She
was sniffling a little, too, as she kissed my ear. She reached out
and touched Connie's cheek and added, "Now that we've found each
other, nothing's going to keep us apart. Not anything, Connie."
Since Connie's gear was organized and ready to go, the three of
us spent the rest of Saturday pretending Sunday would never come.
There was a Bogart mini-festival on TV that evening and we lounged
around in various configurations and watched "Casablanca," "To Have
and Have Not," and several others. We popped popcorn and fed it to
each other.
Connie sat in my lap like a kid, with her head leaning against
my chest. I lay with my head in Alex's lap -- my favorite spot in
the universe for many years. Connie and Alex propped each other up
on the sofa while I sat on the floor with my back to the furniture
and massaged the bare feet they draped over my shoulders. We made
an effort not to feel there was any hurry.
That night, we went back to the simple formulas. Alex and I
made love in the tried and true missionary position. As many times
as we had fucked over the years, the desire in each of us was as
strong as it had ever been. As I reached a gasping climax, Connie
lay beside my sister, kissing her long and soulfully, nibbling at
her ear, and holding her hand.
A little while later, I lay on my back with Connie impaled above
me as Alex licked her breasts and her ears and stroked her sweet
ass. Then the girls lay side by side, kissing and caressing each
other's bodies, while I lay behind Alex and stroked and petted them
both. And I tried to think of a way for all of us to remain
together that wouldn't require someone's career to be sacrificed.
Sunday morning we laughed and joked to cover the somber mood.
We got Connie to the airport and sat around holding hands and
smiling at each other until it was time for her to board. At the
last minute, as our emotions threatened to unravel again, we
indulged in another three-way clinch, as we had two weeks before.
Connie hugged both of us tightly and then said with fierce
resolution, "You guys start shopping for a larger bed. By this
time next year, I'll be back -- to stay!"
And as Alex and I stood at the observation window and watched
the plane taxi out of sight around the corner of the terminal, we
hugged each other and managed to hold back most of the tears. We
were sure we could find a way to reunite our new family.
===============================================================
Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted
elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are
reserved.
===============================================================