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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
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o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
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o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
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Youngest Son (inc)
A true recollection by Jack Barton
***
THIS IS MY STORY, and I promise you that it's absolutely true. My
reason for telling it is twofold; firstly just to get it out of my
system after all these years and secondly, I wonder if I am twisted by
nature or by the events of my life. I am the youngest of four
children, two sisters and a brother. My father was a kind and loving
man, a baker by trade, on permanent night work, but mother was a
different story. She used to get drunk and beat us mercilessly, the
girls getting it worse than the boys I recall.
Because of the size of the house we lived in I had to sleep with my
sister June who is 5 years older than me. This situation didn't last
for many years because my elder sister, May, got married and moved
abroad and June got a bedroom of her own, but I remember the childish
experimentation on my sister's part, though nothing much to tell. The
maternal beatings continued and I remember June running away from home
a couple of times to get away from the violence. For some reason
mother beat me noticeably less than the others, but I certainly didn't
get away with it.
The last time that June ran away was when she was sixteen, and she
didn't get in touch with us for about a year, by which time she was
living with a man in his forties, thirty years her senior. He was an
unsavoury character, but at least he was good to her. He was a long
distance lorry driver and occasionally had to stay away overnight. It
was at these times that I stayed with her to keep her company. This is
the time we are speaking about.
Barry was away on an overnight trip and as usual I was stopping over
to keep June company. She was having a bath and I was in the front
room watching the television. After her bath she came into the room,
naked and carrying a towel. My mouth turned to cotton wool and I could
actually feel the blood pounding through my veins as she stood in
front of me. June had a good figure and I couldn't take my eyes off
her nakedness. She had a smile playing on her lips and I just knew
that tonight was going to be like no other night in my life.
"Dry me please," she asked, offering me the towel.
She stood as still as a statue while I patted her dry, all the time my
mind racing with the thoughts of what is going to happen next. I had a
sort of distant guiltiness, but at the same time I couldn't stop the
inevitability of the situation and by now I wanted it so badly that I
just couldn't have stopped myself if I had wanted to, and I didn't
want to do anything that would jeopardise what I knew was going to
happen next. As I patted her breasts dry I tried my hardest not to
seem overkeen and spoil everything, but I couldn't help but linger on
my first touch of a woman's breasts, even if they were my sister's.
She then took the towel from me, threw it onto the back of a chair and
held my hands in hers. She pulled me to her and gave me a kiss that I
can remember to this day. My first real kiss and my head was spinning
with a mixture of lust, expectation and downright horniness, but by
now there was no turning back. It was a juicy, wet kiss and her tongue
explored my mouth, slowly rolling and mingling with my tongue, until I
thought I'd explode.
She put her hand behind my head and whispered in my ear, "come on, get
undressed, I've got something to teach you".
Even the feel of her hand behind my head and the warmth of her breath
in my ear were the sexiest things I'd ever felt. I stripped naked in a
trice and she held me close to her. The feel of her body next to mine
was incredible and I didn't ever want it to stop. The softness and
heat of her body had my head spinning. She lowered herself to the
floor and pulled me down next to her on the carpet. She took my hand
and placed it on her vagina, directing my finger to her clitoris.
"Now just rub me there gently for a minute, until I get moist and then
you can put this in".
She had a firm hold of my prick and I was almost on the verge of
coming there and then. After a second or two she pulled me
effortlessly onto her and inserted my hardness smoothly into her
waiting vagina. I began pumping and after about the third thrust my
body became as stiff as a poker as I shook long and hard in the throes
of my first ejaculation inside a woman.
"Sh, sh," she whispered, "don't move, stay there a minute," and she
held me very, very tightly until after a moment she shuddered and with
a sigh she kissed me lightly on the lips, a strange, satisfied smile
on her face.
Of course I didn't realise it at the time just how incredibly
prematurely I'd ejaculated, but I was to improve my performance a few
times later that night!
We lay on the floor, kissing and stroking for a few minutes and then
she started fondling my prick. It became poker stiff again almost
instantaneously, (the power of youth, eh), and this time she rolled
over and straddled me, her hands on my chest, taking her weight while
she guided my prick deep inside her luscious body. It was like sliding
my prick into warm liquid velvet.
"Lie back," she purred, "let me do the work".
She slowly began rocking back and forth on top of me, her breasts
swaying tantalisingly in front of my eyes. I reached out and fondled
them, rubbing my palms across her rock hard nipples. June was in
charge of the rhythm now and set a steady cadence. A couple of times I
thrust my pelvis up at her but each time she calmed me down.
"Easy John, easy," she cooed, taking charge of the proceedings,
"there's no rush, let me do the work."
I couldn't believe the pleasures that ran through my young body. I
didn't ever want it to stop but I also wanted to ejaculate so badly. I
was much more in control of myself this time but I don't think that
anyone could last for long under such stimulation. I suddenly reached
the point of no return and it was like the sweetest torture
imaginable.
I know that in films everyone shouts out when they climax but I
promise you that I couldn't keep quiet! I Oohed and Aahed, moaned,
writhed and bucked like the wildest bronco until I held my sister so
hard I'm surprised I didn't break her ribs. June fell on top of me and
we hugged each other tightly, exhausted, and we both began laughing
gently together.
We sat together on the floor, naked, watching television for some
time, sometimes kissing, sometimes stroking, holding, fondling, but
all the time engaged in a loving embrace. We fell into each other's
arms again later that night and once again made the most beautiful
love, long into the night.
Our lovemaking went on for years after that fateful night and we
became accomplished lovers, but one or two things perplex me still,
even after all these years. Firstly we never made love in her bed
although we often commenced our foreplay there, we always moved into
another room for the actual act. Secondly we never engaged in oral sex
of any form although we were quite experimental in every other
department and often spent ages kissing each other's bodies, licking
and sucking, but never oral sex. Finally, and perhaps the most
upsetting, what I thought was going to be the pattern for the rest of
my life came to an abrupt end. The day I got my first steady
girlfriend was the last time we ever indulged ourselves or even spoke
about it, but it was great while it lasted and I still miss it
terribly, she was the first and the best.
Unfortunately, June died in her twenty-second year due to a drug addiction.
It was when I was about fifteen or sixteen that I started going out
with girls on a regular basis. Unfortunately that's all I did, take
them out! This was in the sixties when everyone was into free love and
at it like knives, or so I thought. Truth to tell, nobody was actually
getting it, but they all claimed they were.
I returned home on this particular night after an evening of trying it
on with the girl of the moment. You know, petty fumbling, stroking her
breast outside the bra, getting my hand slapped, "I'm not that sort of
girl," type of thing. When I entered the front room, I could tell
immediately that mother was both drunk and in one of her nasty moods.
Short and stocky, a powerfully built woman with short grey hair, she
was well endowed with a large matronly bosom. She sat in her chair in
her pyjamas and as I entered the room she started moaning about the
time that I'd returned home.
She raised herself from the chair and started hitting me, screaming
and shouting for no good reason that I could see but this time it was
different. She was swinging her arms like a windmill and I found it
easy to dodge or parry the blows. She couldn't hurt me! Anymore! For
the first time, I was in charge. The harder she fought, the easier I
found it to avoid the flailing arms and gradually I began to find it
amusing.
Like most bullies, confrontation deflates their bravado and when I
grabbed mum's wrists and held her immobile, she quickly realised that
she had lost it and began to lose her venom. I quickly threw her arms
around my neck and pulled her close to me. I wrapped my arms around
her back and blew a raspberry, (Bronx Cheer), into her neck. We then
slid to the floor, mother now laughing and wriggling with me still
blowing. I was on top of her, lying between her legs. I still held her
wrists to her side and now I slid down and started blowing raspberries
into her navel. My chest was now rubbing her mound and I let go of her
wrists, preferring to tickle her sides. As she squirmed beneath me I
rubbed my chest into her groin and her soft breasts plopped into my
hand, first one and then another as she rolled from side to side.
It was about this time that I realised I was getting aroused, and I
thought perhaps she was too. The tickling had now stopped and I
cautiously cupped her breasts and slid up her body until our groins
were grinding together in slow circular motions. I took my weight on
my left arm and tweaked her nipple between my finger and thumb, our
faces inches apart, I pressed my lips to hers. Mother opened her mouth
slightly and ran her tongue along my lips. My Prick was as hard as it
had ever been and I continued to dry fuck her.
She kissed me lightly again and said, "that's it son, it's time for bed."
She rolled from under me made her way upstairs. I sat for a moment,
slightly bewildered, slightly angry and completely horny. I took
myself to my room and immediately wanked myself silly. As soon as I
finished I felt ashamed of myself, wanking over your own mother but it
would have been nice, wouldn't it?
Now it was not for a couple of years later that it suddenly dawned on
me. When she said it was time for bed, did she come to her senses and
call a halt to things before they got completely out of hand, or did
she mean me to join her in her bed:? Oh shit!
That leaves one female member of the family, May, that I haven't hit
on:yet. I'm now 50 years old and May is 65, and it is this part of the
story that reminded of the can of worms that is my family life. She
emigrated to Canada when I was five years old and I've not seen much
of her in all these years. Her husband died after a long illness and
she decided to make one of her infrequent visits home last year.
During her stay, in the second week, we all ended up reminiscing and
the alcohol flowed freely and we all ended up silly pissed. Now
everyone drifted off to bed, extremely the worse for wear I might add,
and we settled down for the night. About a quarter of an hour after
retiring there was a loud bump, May had fallen out of bed.
"Your sister, you sort her out," was my wife's solution.
I went into May's room and found her trying to climb back into bed,
picked her up and put her back and pulled the duvet over her. That was
all that was required of me but no, I had to sit on the edge of the
bed and ask for a goodnight kiss.
We were both drunk, I know, but that kiss was 100% sexual. Our tongues
played with each other with plenty of deep breathing and panting etc.
My hand immediately locked onto her breast beneath her top and her
hand went straight to my prick and began wanking furiously. So there I
was, about to jump into bed with my elder sister with my wife in the
next room waiting for me. Reason prevailed and I managed to pull
myself away and return to my own bed, but again, I know that I could
have done it with another of my female relatives. The opportunity
didn't arise again on that holiday, but she's coming over again this
year and I am determined that we'll get it on this time, I'm not going
to keep missing opportunities like that.
I'll now repeat my initial question, am I the victim, the abused or
the abuser. Given the circumstances of these three encounters, what
would anyone else have done? Perhaps I am sick, please let me know.