Alien Exchange Program
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The hike continued, but Carly
noticed almost none of the scenery they were walking through. She was too
fascinated with paying attention to her new body. Or at least one part of her
new body. When she had grasped her penis, it had felt good to touch it. It was
a new kind of "good" in her mind. Both the feel of the thing between
her fingers, and the feeling in the thing between her fingers was
completely new. She recognized it as the same thing she probably felt when she
was turned on. An erection meant her body was turned on ... right?
But this was a different feeling
than what she was used to. What she was used to was for her nipples to tingle
and for something deep inside her belly to almost writhe. This was all
centered just slightly below that penis. Her mind told her that meant it
was in the testicles, but since she'd never actually touched "her"
testicles, it felt off kilter, somehow.
Automatically, her hand reached
between her legs and found the bulge that she knew those testicles were under. Just
the touch of her fingers on the outside of her jeans filled in a blank, and,
suddenly, she thought of them as "hers." And by touching them, she
confirmed that that was, in fact, where the center of turbulence was in her
As she contemplated all this, her
senses noted that the stiffness in her penis was fading. She could actually feel
it getting softer. It was astonishing. If this happened very often, how did
boys ever concentrate on anything?
She realized she'd been walking, but
hadn't seen anything. She'd been on autopilot. Everything looked normal. There
was her body, walking ahead of her. Right now she thought of that as half her
body and half Craig. Still, she couldn't resist admiring her form.
Just like that, she could feel
things firming up down there. It was already in "the comfortable position"
so she didn't have to do anything, but she could feel the differences
The question was ... why was
They came to a clearing, where there
was a railing that protected people from falling off the cliff below it. The
view was spectacular. Carly acknowledged that view, but part of her mind still
monitored her groin, and noted that the boner was softening again.
"Let's rest a while," said
something," said Fran, pulling bottles of water from her back pack.
Carly looked around. There were five
other tourists at the overlook. Two were an older couple, who reminded her of
her grandparents. Two more also appeared to be together, and were maybe in
their twenties. The guy was a hunk. She examined the woman with him and
dismissed her as competition, even though they were together. It was automatic.
She didn't even realize what she was doing.
The other one was standing apart. He
was maybe fourteen or fifteen, too young to be out here by himself. That issue
was resolved when the older couple wandered over to the boy and suggested they
continue. She decided he must be their grandson.
She looked back at the scenery, her
eyes wandering over far away trees, and strata in rock walls that would take
days to climb. She saw movement on the opposite side of the ravine, but
couldn't determine what it was.
"Shall we go?" asked Fran.
"We're having stew for supper, and it takes longer to prepare. I want to
get back earlier rather than later."
Carly turned, and saw the young couple
were in an embrace, kissing ardently, apparently unconcerned that others could
see them. She idly wondered what it would be like to be that woman.
And her penis, which had softened
while they rested, sprang back to life.
She waited until they got back, and
her mother was involved with putting the stew together. Their dad was sitting
in a lawn chair, reading.
"Come with me," she
whispered to her brother.
"Where?" he asked, his
Carly shot him a glare and
announced, loudly, "We're going to the bathroom."
"All right," said Fran,
who paid no further attention to them.
She waited until they were
twenty-five yards away.
"Your penis won't behave
itself!" she hissed.
"What do you mean?"
"It keeps getting hard!"
"I told you it does that,"
"You didn't tell me it would do
that all the time."
"It doesn't do it all
the time," he argued. "Just every once in a while."
"Well it was hard almost the
whole hike," she complained.
"Really?" He looked
surprised. "That's strange."
She stopped. "Why?" She was
"It just doesn't do that. Not
unless I'm around a bunch of hot girls or something. Like at the pool? If there
are a bunch of hot chicks at the pool, in good bikinis, I have to wear a jock
strap under my suit."
"Well, there weren't a bunch of
hot girls around today," Carly pointed out.
"What were you thinking
"What do you mean, what was I
"I mean what were you thinking
about. If I think about hot girls in bikinis, that can give me a
"I wasn't thinking about hot
girls in bikinis, that's for sure," she snorted.
"Okay, so what were you
"I don't know. Nothing. We were
just walking along. I wasn't thinking about anything."
"Yes you were. You can't help
but think about something. For example, I was thinking about Rhonda
Tackmeyer, and how now that I'm in your body, I could invite her over for a
sleepover, and when it was time to change into PJs I'd get to see her
"You're kidding," said
"Nope. And that was just one
fantasy I thought about. Except that they always get ruined."
"Why?" asked Carly,
"Because if I had Rhonda over,
there would be hours and hours of girl stuff before the naked part, and I have
no idea how to do all that girl stuff. It would never work."
"I don't like Rhonda Tackmeyer
anyway," said Carly. "She's a slut."
"Which is the whole purpose of
getting her naked," said Craig.
"Do I have to remind you that
you're missing the part you want to use on Rhonda Tackmeyer?"
"Yes, but I could do everything
else," he said.
"You know. Lesbian stuff."
"I know that's not your
style," he said, "but what else am I going to do? I'm for sure not
going to let some guy climb between my legs. Now that's an ewwwww
Carly thought about her very own,
very secret vibrating dildo, which was carefully hidden in the very back of the
bottom drawer of her night stand, under a pile of paperback romance novels. It
occurred to her that that dildo, which she loved to pieces, was of no use to
her now whatsoever.
But the thought of that dildo caused
the tingle to burst into life in her balls.
She had an epiphany.
It was his body, reacting to her
thoughts. It wasn't random at all. He was right. Whatever she'd been
thinking about had caused all those boners.
So what was she thinking
"We have a problem," said
Craig, who had had a sort of epiphany of his own. In bringing the little
fantasies he'd had out into the open, where the light of day could illuminate
them, it had finally sunk in that if he wanted a sex life ... it was going to
have to be that of a girl.
"Shhhh!" she said, holding
her palm up.
"What?" he asked.
To his credit, he stayed silent, and
let her think. What percolated in her mind was the fact that, for a lot of the
hike, she'd been thinking about ... herself. Except it wasn't her any more. It
was him in her body. She'd been thinking about her body, and how she liked it. But
the brain having those thoughts had been hooked up to a pair of balls.
She'd gotten a boner for herself!
Craig's journey of exploration, in
terms of his new body, wasn't as thoughtful as his sister's. That's not to say
that he forgot his mind was now inside a female body. Not at all. He just
didn't burn as many calories thinking about it as Carly did.
An argument might be made that one
reason for this was because, unlike Carly, he wasn't horny all day long. He
didn't notice that fact. Being horny was the kind of thing that, because it was
more or less constant, became something one stopped noticing. Like wearing
clothes. You don't think about how your clothes are touching your body every
minute of the day. They're still there ... you just get used to them.
So when that constant, low level
testosterone buzz wasn't there any more, it simply removed an unconscious
distraction that let him notice other things. Such as how light he felt, and
how powerful his legs were. He was more flexible. He felt like he could run
faster, jump higher and climb tall things without getting tired at all.
This wasn't wishful thinking. Carly
weighed sixty pounds less than her brother. Most of that weight was muscle, so
you'd think he'd feel less powerful without sixty pounds less of muscle.
But the fact is that carrying around sixty pounds uses a lot of muscle,
and muscle, unless it is stretched frequently, begins to tighten up. At some
point, there is a zero sum point where, while you bulk up, that bulk isn't as
useful as it looks.
But Carly stretched religiously, as
do most dedicated runners. And the quality of her leg muscles, along with that
missing sixty pounds, made them arguably stronger than his more heavily muscled
ones. There was much less bulk around his new waist, and the tightness in his
chest and shoulders he hadn't noticed until it was given to his sister, was
Granted, his breasts intruded on his
thoughts a lot. They seemed to be in the way all the time, though he didn't
really bump them with his arms very much. They felt astonishingly heavy at
first, but he got used to that quickly. The net result was that he felt like
this new body was almost magically agile. The hike was amazing, because he
didn't tire at all. When they got back to the campsite, he felt like he could
have gone miles farther. There was one moment when he took a deep, cleansing
breath, just enjoying the feel of it, and was distracted when his breasts
seemed to expand. But that passed, and on impulse, he stood flat-footed on one
side of the campfire, bent his knees, leaned forward, and then straightened
them, leaping with both feet together. He landed clearly a foot beyond the edge
of the campfire. He was amazed.
This body had some clear advantages!
The rest of the day was spent in
that kind of reflection as well. He did not, in fact, dwell on things, sexually
speaking, until it was time to get ready to go to bed that night. He'd only
peed once that day, and since they'd been at the campsite when that urge hit
him, the camp restroom was handy. This time he'd gone into the female side. It
had felt strange, and he'd looked around before going in, as if afraid he'd get
"caught" violating the sanctity of the women's john. Then there had
been a moment of worry that some other woman would be in there. There wasn't,
though, and he relaxed, once he was inside.
He'd peed sitting down plenty of
times. That was the only safe way to pee when you had morning wood. Again, his
urine ran hot against the insides of his "new" labia. It was
uncomfortable in the same way that not retracting his foreskin was
uncomfortable. His actions were, therefore, partly muscle memory of the body he
was in, and partly his mind telling him something needed to be done. By the
time his hand had reached, and two fingers had expertly pushed skin in a way
that pulled his labia apart, he hadn't really thought about what he was
It was the first time he'd behaved like the gender of the body he was in.
Getting ready for bed wasn't weird. Their
parents, since they'd had showers the night before, just before they'd been
abducted, suggested that baths could be pushed to the next night. Another
reason getting ready for bed wasn't as weird as it might have been was that
they weren't at home, where there were mirrors, and privacy, and light to see
In fact, neither youth got into the
deep water until they actually crawled into their sleeping bags.
Since they weren't actually
acclimatized to their new bodies yet, each just naturally went to the same
sleeping bag they'd always used. And an interesting thing happened to them
When Carly crawled into her bag, her
nose was assailed by the combined scents of her body wash, shampoo, and ...
When Craig did the same thing, his
nose detected a muskier, manly scent.
Some scientists have done studies
and claim that one reason people aren't attracted toward close family members,
as potential sexual partners, is that the scent of a close family member of the
opposite sex is unappealing. These scientists estimate that condition exists in
as many as two thirds of the population.
Of course that leaves a third of the
population that won't find the odor of a close family member to be
Twins, as it turns out, are almost
always in that third. And in this case, the twins' bodies reacted to the
olfactory stimulation in ways that amounted to sensory ambush.
They got horny.
In Carly's case, the all too
familiar erection came into raging existence. It wasn't painful, because all
she had on were a pair of jockey shorts. She'd thought about that only briefly,
because sometimes, when she went to bed back at home, all she wore to bed were
her panties. It made her feel deliciously naughty to do that. She kept a T
shirt by the bed, and in the morning, slipped it on before she left her room to
go to the bathroom.
Craig, however, hadn't been in a
perpetual state of heat all day, like his sister had. In fact, he'd never felt
the deep, throbbing power of female arousal in his belly. This body didn't have
balls, which he was used to feeling respond to a woman, or a thought, or a
picture, or a bikini, or a commercial, or almost anything else. It felt like a
stomach ache, except it didn't hurt.
It most certainly didn't hurt!
Carly's response was a soft groan of
frustration. The fact that her hand went to the front of her jockey shorts was,
as Craig had already experienced, mostly muscle memory. When a man has a
hardon, it's just natural to touch it. But this time there was no thick denim
between her hand and her penis to dull the sensation. And this time there were
no family members watching.
This time ... she could explore what
things felt like down there.
Five feet away, Craig's hand went
not to his missing cock, but to his belly, above where the pleasant ache was. Soft,
slim fingertips pulled up the T shirt his mother had given him to wear over his
now bare breasts, and traced an irregular circle on the surface of the skin he
had just uncovered.
It tickled. It felt good. But it
only made that deep, odd feeling expand.
For the first time, he reflected on
how his fingers had access to a pussy.
And it was dark. No one would know.
Slowly, the fingers he'd been
unconsciously stimulating his uterus with, drifted toward the panties that were
almost no protection for an exciting frontier of exploration.
Fran had nodded off and was almost
asleep when she heard a soft groan. Her maternal instincts kicked into high
gear, which meant that a special part of her brain lifted its metaphorical head
and listened, a sort of sentry, peering into the darkness. The rest of her
brain went into stasis, ready to drop further into sleep if the sentry assured
her everything was okay. If the sentry sounded the alarm, that part of her was
already awake, and the rest would soon follow. It was a complicated kind of
arrangement most men would be unable to understand, but which every mother
develops within minutes after the last, exhausted push in the delivery room.
The sentry detected breathing that
was too fast, and an almost silent grunt. Skin rustled against cloth. But
nothing sounded alarming. A moan followed, and the sentry tensed. It sent a
tendril of warning to her sleeping self, which roused enough to evaluate the
information the sentry was providing.
The children were uneasy.
Evaluation took place. That the
children were uneasy out in the wild was understandable, under the
circumstances. There would probably be a lot of that for a while.
She told the sentry everything was
fine, and dropped off into real sleep.
The sentry, having been told that
soft moans, and rustling cloth were nothing to worry about, paid no attention
as the teenagers five feet away from it masturbated.
Many say that masturbation is
instinctive. Any grandparent will tell you about a granddaughter who, while
playing horsey by riding on your shin
will unconsciously rub against your
leg. Any parent will tell you they've had to tell their little boy to stop playing
with himself, only to be told, "I wasn't playing with anything!" The
fact is that sexual organs enjoy being stimulated by touch. We just don't
recognize that on a conscious level until puberty. Until then, it's simply
another part of the body that occasionally needs brief attention. Like
scratching. You itch ... you scratch to ease that itch. You don't think about
it. You just do it.
But puberty changes everything. When
puberty gets going, the itch doesn't just go away, like it used to.
It demands more scratching.
And, under the right circumstances,
enough scratching finally eases the itch.
The problem is that "the right
circumstances" to Mother Nature, means sexual intercourse.
In times long past, we acted much
like we see a pair of dogs act now. If you've watched dogs mate, what usually
happens is that the male shows interest. Eventually, he tries to mount the
bitch. If she isn't interested, she walks out from under him. If she is, she
moves her tail to one side. He's ready, and moves into an instinctive position,
whereupon he starts thrusting. He might not hit the target right away, but
keeps trying. Once he does make it go where it's supposed to go, things
happen quickly. A bulb near the base of his penis expands, locking things in
place so that, if she changes her mind, she can no longer just walk away. More
instinctive movements happen and, presto, puppies.
With humans, back in the day, it was
remarkably similar. A man would show interest. The woman either threw things at
him, screamed and ran away, or just hung around. Maybe she smiled, something
dogs aren't able to do. Eventually they'd lie down together, something that's
instinctive and much more comfortable than standing up. Again by instinct, he'd
try to roll on top of her. If she was receptive, she let him. If she wasn't, it
was too late to walk away. Either way, he'd begin the same, instinctive
thrusting movements that the male dog makes, not aiming, exactly, but just
trying. If she was receptive, she was lubricated so that, if he happened to hit
the target, he could slide inside easily.
At that point, though, things are
different than in the rest of the animal kingdom. Humans evolved to be bipedal,
which means that, after the sex act, the female can rise into an erect position
and, finally, walk away. But that would allow all that precious genetic
material the male just deposited in her to drain out, because unlike other
mammals, her vaginal tract isn't horizontal when she walks.
So Mother Nature came up with the
ingenious solution of enabling the woman to have an orgasm which, in theory,
tires her out so much that she wants to lie there for a while afterwards and
just rest. Or bask in the afterglow, or whatever. The point is that while all
males have an orgasm that sends the seed of life into the female (or over her
egg cluster or whatever), only the human female has an orgasm which is intended
to give all that seed time to take root before it drains out of her body.
And that was fine for hundreds of
thousands of years.
But then civilization, which
developed as a survival technique, started messing with the natural order of
things, and developed some rules that were not natural.
And one of those rules was,
"You can't just have sex with anybody you feel like!"
Those first rules were along the
lines of, "That's (she's) mine and you can't have it (her). If you touch
it (her), I'll hit you with this rock."
But pretty soon, people didn't want
to carry around a rock any more, and guarding your food and woman was a full
time job, so culture was developed so that somebody could stay at the house,
guarding all the important stuff there (the food and women,) while you and your buddies
went out mastodon hunting, or whatever.
And that led to more rules.
And since I know all this is
tedious, I'll cut to the chase and advance a couple of hundred thousand years,
where we find ourselves in a culture where not only can you not have sex with
anybody you want to, you can't have sex until a specific set of conditions is
established, which can take months of dating rituals at a minimum, and marriage
at a maximum.
Along the way, somebody figured out
that, while you couldn't have sex with who you wanted to, if you rubbed things
just right, it didn't matter, because you felt like you'd had sex anyway.
Good news travels, but it also isn't
all that odd for people to re-invent the wheel either.
Of course, in the case of Craig and
Carly, good news had traveled a long time ago, and both were well aware of the
joys, both practical and emotional, of self-pleasure. Both, in fact, engaged in
that practice on a regular basis.
But they'd never done it as a member
of the opposite sex.
And while it may be instinctive to
touch, and rub and try doing things you've heard about, that doesn't mean
you'll be any good at it the first few times you give it a shot.
It is that exact phenomenon that led
to a mixture of pleasure and frustration that first night, and created the
sounds that Fran's sentry perked up its ears at.
Carly, once her hand had dithered a
bit, finally reached inside her underwear and grasped her cock. She squeezed
it, tentatively, marveling at its texture, and the combination of both hard and
soft. She had, in fact, felt one before, but that had been under conditions that were both
hurried and frantic. Mark Thompson had more or less forced her hand onto the
penis he'd released through the zipper of his slacks. It was after the Sadie
Hawkins dance at school, which she'd invited Mark to, thinking he was cool, and
handsome, and funny. It turned out he was a prick, both figuratively and
She hadn't know exactly how to jerk
him off, having never anticipated actually doing that, but as it turned out, it
hadn't mattered. Her few, quick jerks had resulted in a mess being made and she
had demanded to be taken home. So she hadn't had a chance to really explore a
penis before this. Certainly not with the time and access she now had.
Eventually she lifted her hips and
pushed her briefs down, below her balls. She briefly examined them with her
fingertips. They felt full and round, and the skin there felt thick and tough. She
was astonished at how sensitive they were to squeezing. She plucked at a few of
the wispy hairs sprouting from there, and tried to imagine shaving them all
off. It had been hard enough shaving her own pubic hair.
Suddenly, she thought of Craig, only
a few feet away from her. That bald pussy was his now!
As her hand gripped her new penis
again, and started to explore it more thoroughly, she wondered if he was doing
the same thing she was doing.
Craig was, in fact, exploring his
new sexuality, just like his sister was. He'd tried to get access to a pussy
for years, but had never pulled it off. Now, suddenly, he owned one!
He had some theoretical knowledge
about these mystical body parts. Gingerly, he let his slim fingers explore,
unsure of how firmly to press, as he tried to find the apex of his new
sexuality. When his finger blundered into his clitoris his whole new body
jerked, and he groaned from a mixture of surprise, ecstasy, and a dash of
terror that somehow, somebody would find out he was doing this.
He pulled his finger back, but
almost immediately it crept back towards the magic bump. He "knew"
girls like to have this place rubbed, so he set about trying to rub it. Unfortunately,
his male mind was used to doing things much more firmly than he should have
done things, and he pressed too hard. It felt good, but it also felt bad. Two
minutes later, he'd found a happy medium, concerning the amount of pressure,
and things felt distinctly good.
But that's all it felt ... just
good. Really good ... but just good.
It was a lot like that little girl,
unconsciously rubbing on grandpa's leg. It felt good, but she didn't know what
she was doing.
Craig knew what he was doing. He
just didn't know how to do it well enough to actually have an orgasm. In fact,
he didn't know what an impending orgasm would even feel like. When he'd been in
his own body, he could tell when he was about to pop. He could even slow down
or speed up in such a way as to control when he popped.
But this, while it felt good ... was
also a bit frustrating.
Then he remembered he had a vagina, too.
His finger left off rubbing his
clit, and moved to find out what the inside of a vagina felt like.
Five feet away, Carly was enduring
something remarkably similar to her twin brother.
She also had some putative knowledge
of how this worked. And she found that gripping her shaft, and stroking up and
down felt really good. It was a little amazing, because it was an
entirely different kind of good than she'd ever felt before. Again, it
had a lot to do with those balls in that full, thick-skinned sack that hung
below what she was gripping. But now there was a strange happy feeling inside
the penis too. And that happy feeling moved in concert with her hand as it
stroked. It was amazing. She'd heard that boys jacked off all the time. Now she
understood why. It just felt fucking fantastic!
The problem was, she was afraid the
thing would erupt. She knew what that was like too. Mark's stuff had gotten all
over her dress when it went off. She'd had to sneak that dress into the washing
machine before her mother could notice the stains. Now she had the power to
produce that same, viscous, runny stuff that had caused so much trouble before.
She didn't want that to happen. It
would make a mess inside her sleeping bag. She almost giggled as she thought
that she could blame such stains on previous behavior by her brother, before
they were abducted. But if there was as much as Mark had produced, it would
make some kind of wet spot.
No, she didn't want it to go off.
But it sure felt good to stroke it.
Ten minutes later she was surprised,
because she'd spent much longer stroking her own than she had Mark's. Mark's
had gone off almost immediately. But hers did not.
She was also both more turned on ...
and more frustrated because she couldn't figure out a way to get relief without
making that mess.
Craig was amazed at the feel of the
inside of his vagina. It was hot, for one thing, scalding hot. It was tight
too, gripping his slim finger firmly. And yet it gave, and flexed as he moved
his finger around. He reached deeper and two things happened. One was that his
fingertip encountered something knobby and firm. It felt like one side of a
very small donut, with a hole in the middle. At the same time, the pad of his
hand pressed on his clit, and zings of happiness shot to his nipples. That had
happened before, while his finger was mauling the little organ, but only
intermittently. Now, this different kind of stimulation was just right to send signals
to his nipples on a more consistent basis.
His left hand came up and pushed his
T shirt higher, until he could find and pinch one of the happy nipples.
He moaned, softly, and his breathing
increased to not quite a panting rhythm. At the same time, the finger inside
his pussy curled, and the sensitive fingertip encountered a slightly rough,
slightly leathery patch of skin on the top of the vaginal canal.
There were more zings.
For a male, there is only one kind
of orgasm. It can have varying levels of intensity, but it all springs from one
place. That's the urethra. It gets irritated by the stimulation, and calls for
something to soothe it. That something is semen.
But the female's body works
differently during sex. Her urethra isn't really involved, except on a
tangential basis. Rather, there are nerves inside her vagina that are
stimulated, and other nerves associated with her clitoris that are stimulated.
There is less information available about the thing called the G-spot, but some
scientists believe that is a different set of nerves that are more developed in
some women than in others.
The point is that a woman can have
different kinds of orgasms, based on which set of nerves is producing
A woman's orgasm can be a soft,
soothing, tinkling stream kind of thing, or it can be a bone-crunching,
being-overwhelmed-by-an-ocean-wave experience. Or anything in-between. A lot of
it has to do with her mental state. Sex has just as much to do with the mind as
the body, if not more.
Of course Craig did not know all
this. All he knew was that doing this or that felt really good, and he was
having a blast finding all this out. Which is why he wasn't aware when the
combination of things he was doing brought about one of those really soft,
really slow, almost lazy kinds of orgasms, completely unlike the electric
release he was used to when his penis demanded relief.
But it satisfied his female body in
a way that caused him to decide that he'd experimented enough for the night.
After all, he could do this whenever
he felt like it now.
There is a peculiar condition the
human penis can get into. I'm not sure there's a name for it. But if you stroke
an erection long enough, and slowly enough, the mild level of irritation
eventually produces a kind of pain that makes one stop stroking. Once that
happens, the erection, lacking further stimulation, begins to soften and that
lingering pain discourages further manipulation of the penis.
It isn't pleasant. It's not really
"painful" but it isn't any fun either. What it is, is mildly
And that's how Carly fell asleep ...
Day two of the alien exchange
program was minutely less unsettling. It is impossible to elucidate exactly how
it happened, but each teen adjusted a bit more, accepted the situation a bit
more easily, and explored their new bodies with more interest and comfort. That
they were twins, and therefore talked to each other about all this, undoubtedly
An example of that was, again, when
they went to the restroom the next morning, before they began the arduous task
of packing up in preparation for going home.
"How'd you sleep?" asked Carly, remembering her vague frustration.
"Like a baby," he said, happily. "I actually kind of like your body."
"Yours is okay," she replied.
"Just okay? Come on. That's a great body. I worked hard on that body. The babes love that body."
"Yeah, yeah. But I feel like I weigh a ton. And your penis! It's impossible!"
"I've always kind of liked
it," he said, bumping her with his shoulder. She felt it between the tip
of her shoulder and elbow, and was startled to look down at her sibling. She
was used to having to look up.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"You swear you won't
"Don't go all drama on me. What
"I touched it last night."
"You mean my cock?"
"Good. I touch it every night. It
probably would have been freaked out if you hadn't touched it."
"Really?" The surprise in
her voice was clear.
"Sure. Beat the shit out of it
regularly. It will love you for it."
"Craig!" she gasped.
"You have to start calling me
Carly," he reminded her.
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "I
have a question."
"When you touch it ... it ...
um ... you know ... shoots stuff ... right?"
"Of course. That's the whole point."
She was silent as they walked on.
"Didn't it do that for
you?" he asked, as he realized what the context of her question might
mean. He always went to bed prepared to catch his spend in some way. Sometimes
that meant a wash cloth, or his the underwear he'd just taken off, or even a
sock. It occurred to him she wouldn't have known to do that.
"Did you get my sleeping bag
all skanky?" he groaned.
"No!" she blurted. "Nothing
happened. It didn't do anything."
"You mean it didn't get
"No, it got hard just like it
had been doing all freaking day long. And it felt good to ... you know
"Jack on it?"
"Yes," she said. "But
it wouldn't shoot."
"Oh," he said. "I get
it now. Don't worry. That's just because you don't know how to do it yet."
"There's a right and wrong
"Of course. You have to have
just the right grip, and go just the right speed. There's a point where you
speed up, and then, presto, the volcano erupts."
"Oh," she said, mildly
disappointed. "So how do I learn all that?"
"I'll show you," he
offered. "When we get home, and can get some time alone, I'll give you all
the tips. You'll be fine. I can imagine how frustrated you feel. If I don't
bust a nut at least daily, I get a little crazy. Sometimes I go two or three
times in a day."
"You're kidding," she
gasped. Then she remembered how her penis had been stiff most of the previous
day, and could suddenly understand how those persistent urges might encourage
that kind of practice.
Suddenly, she felt like she finally
understood boys a little better. If boys experienced what she'd experienced
yesterday ... and last night ... she wasn't surprised at all that they acted
"You have to call me
Craig," she said, automatically.
"Yeah, sorry. I need to tell
"I sort of touched myself ... I
mean your body ... last night, too."
"Oh really?" She smiled. That
actually made her feel better. "How'd it go?"
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
"I thought you didn't do that
Craig was in the position many
brothers put themselves in, when thinking about their sister. You tend to put
your sister on a pedestal, or even in an ivory tower, when it comes to her
sexuality. At the same time you think of her as a brat, a pain in the ass, a
monster, a tattle tale, or any number of other unsavory kinds of character,
when it comes to her sexuality, she is a virgin. Her virtue is unsullied, snow
white. She would never think to plunder her tender sex with lusty fingers. And
the thought of anyone else trying to do that makes your blood boil.
It doesn't happen to all brothers,
but it happens to a lot of them, perhaps even the majority.
Of course while this is happening,
the girl is just plain normal, searching for the same things and having the
same problems as everybody else. And of course she's aware of her sexual
But Craig had never imagined her as
being a girl who masturbated. It just went against his inflated view of his
sister. Even now that he'd done that to her body himself, it was mildly
shocking to imagine her doing it before their bodies were exchanged. Masturbation
was, perhaps, the one thing they'd never talked about together.
"Of course I do. I've done it
since I was twelve."
"Twelve?!" he gasped. His whole body
suddenly felt tense.
"Sure. I learned how in the
bathtub, and have been doing it ever since."
"Bathtub? Me too!" he
squealed. He didn't notice it was a squeal. His mind was already adapting to
his new voice.
"Well, there you go."
"This is weird."
"Well, duh," she said.
"No, I mean I'm not used to the
idea of you doing that. I never thought about it before."
"And I never thought about you
jerking off in your room before," she said. "But you didn't answer my
question. How'd it go for you?"
"Great," he sighed. "I
loved it. It's so different. You have all these places to touch, and each one
feels different, but they all seem to connect to something deep inside, right
here." He put his finger on his belly.
"I feel everything right
here," she said, cupping placing her hand low, between her legs.
"Oh yeah," he sighed. "I
remember that. But I don't feel anything like that in your body."
"So did you get off?" she
"I don't know."
"What do you mean, you don't know? If you got off, you'd
know," she said.
"Something happened that felt
really good, but it wasn't like busting a nut," he said. "I was able to
go to sleep, though."
"I wish that had happened to
me," she said. "I still feel all anxious."
"Don't worry," he said. "Like
I said, I'll show you how to take care of it when we get home."
"Deal," she said. "And
maybe I can give you some pointers too."
"Deal!" he said, feeling
There was an itch in the middle of her back and she automatically reached to scratch it. She felt still-unfamiliar muscles stretch and then stop. Her hand couldn't reach the spot. All her cherished flexibility was gone. Now Craig had it.
She had to ask him to scratch it for her.
With her own fingers!
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