For Love Of Nature - Chrissy's Story
AUTHOR'S COMMENT: This story is written in two roughly similar versions, the other being "For Love Of Nature - Kelly's Story" Both stories are similar in that they share the same general plot and a little of the same text in the beginning. What makes them different is the way the characters arrive at the ending. I have used different names for the characters (except Uncle Bob, of course), but if you read both stories you'll see the similarities immediately, especially in the beginning.
Before you yell at me for telling the same story twice, though, here's what happened. I wrote Chrissy's story and then lost all of it except the beginning. After months of fruitless searching, I re-wrote it as Kelly's story, relying on memory to recreate it. As luck would have it, after Kelly's story was done, I found Chrissy's story again on an old backup disk I'd left in my car and forgotten about. So I'm posting them both. It's an example of how a story idea can develop differently as time passes during the writing. It's also interesting that the second time I wrote it ... it was twice as long.
It was the summer of my fifteenth year, a year that had brought the depths of sadness to our lives. Daddy and Mark - he's my brother - and I were lost without Mom, but life insisted on marching on, whether we wanted it to or not. I was worried about Daddy because he was drinking too much, and when he said we were going to move, to be near Uncle Bob, his brother, I was almost relieved. It meant leaving the house I'd been raised in, but that house was so empty now...
Anyway, I knew it was the right thing to do when Mark simply said "OK". He was the popular one, tall, slim, athletic with that tanned windblown look of sailors who do it for fun, rather than making a living at it. He was a good brother too, offering to teach me to sail and play tennis and all the other things he was into.
But I had other interests. Well, one other interest anyway.
Before she died, my mother had boxes and boxes and BOXES of romance novels, and she was always sighing as she read them, and changing positions on the lounger, like she was uncomfortable, but staying there to read more. One day I picked on up to see what she had been reading.
"Marshall swept into the room, her bedroom, where he shouldn't be, especially since she was in dishabille, a diaphanous gown that showed too much. She was aghast as he approached her and took her in his arms, pressing her trembling body against his hard, muscled frame. He kissed her and his passion was contagious. She tried to control her baser urges, but the intensity of his lips overcame her breeding and upbringing. His hand cupped her breast and her nipples jumped to meet his strong fingers."
It went on for a bit, never getting actually pornographic or anything, but it was obvious what they were doing. It made me wet between my legs, and I was hooked.
Mom found me reading one and blew her stack.
"That's NOT appropriate literature for a girl of your tender age" she snapped. I noticed she talked a little bit like the dialogue in the books.
So I was banned from reading what she termed as "adult" literature.
But like I said, she had BOXES of them, and couldn't possibly keep track of them all. So I had my own stash, and when Mark offered to get me out in the wind and sun I quietly demurred and found a quiet place to read and ... well, let's just say I learned there are places on my body that I can touch that make me feel like the women in those books feel.
And then she was gone. I had all her books now, but I'd have given them all up and my eyes too to have her back.
So leaving the place where everything reminded me of her wasn't so bad in some ways. And it meant new friends, and even a different culture. Uncle Bob lived in Ireland, amongst what they called the Achill Islands.
They say that if too many important or huge things happen in your life at one time it can affect your judgment. Just about EVERYTHING changed for me in a space of a couple of months, and it seemed like all of the changes were big ones. Maybe that's how things ended up the way they did.
Anyway, we got off the plane and my cousins, James and Patrick were there to collect us. That's how they talk in Scotland and Great Britain and places close to there. The don't "come and get you" they "collect you". So they collected us and took us to a 48 foot sailboat that was lots bigger than anything Mark had ever sailed. Of course he was on cloud nine, and started talking sailing with his cousins.
That left Daddy and me to explore the cabin in the middle of the deck. It slept four and had the cutest little kitchen in it. I know I'm supposed to call it a galley, but it looked like a kitchen to me. And there was a bathroom too. I went back up on deck and suddenly got a lot more interested in sailing.
All three of the boys had taken their shirts off. I don't know what it is about wide shoulders, but they make my pussy get damp. And there were three sets of wide shoulders up there. James and Patrick were wearing Speedos, and it was plain that they were in fabulous shape. They were twins, but you could identify James because he was, for some reason, an inch taller than his brother.
Anyhow, they turned on the motor and we went that way for an hour, maybe more, passing all these little islands, specks of green in the wide blue ocean. Some of them had little huts and cabins on them, but others looked like no one had ever set foot on them.
Then there was a bigger island, across the water from what looked like the mainland, and we docked. We went up a long, winding gravel path to a house that looked like something out of a fairy tale. It had a steep sloped roof, all mossy looking and there were parts that stuck out from the sides of that roof that had little round windows in them. You could see slate tiles and there was a chimney. The sides were whitewashed and there were plants and bushes and growing things positively EVERYWHERE. A lot of it turned out to be Aunt Violet's vegetable garden. And waiting for us there, of course were my Aunt and Uncle, and their daughter, Molly.
I won't bore you with all the little details, though everything was old and beautiful and homey looking, which does have something to do with the rest of the story, because I immediately felt at home in this place.
I could go on and on about the island, but I know what you want to hear about. You want to hear about the pictures, and how things turned into ... well, what they turned into. So I'll skip all the stuff that happened in the next few months, except to say that my dad got a job on the mainland that he had to go to by boat every day, and I got along well with my cousins, who welcomed my brother and me because we were new faces and new people to talk to. My uncle welcomed me for another reason.
But then, that's the rest of the story.
I knew my uncle Bob was a photographer, of course. I'd seen his pictures in several famous magazines. But his subject matter was mostly nature, and plants and stuff like that, and I suppose there isn't all that much call for that sort of thing if you don't work for National Geographic or something like that. So money was tight. My dad working helped, but when he started he was at the bottom of the totem pole, and didn't get paid much then.
Anyway, it all started one day when I was reading a particularly well written romance novel - one with pretty explicit descriptions - and my brother was on the internet. I don't remember the site he'd gone to, but it had pictures of girls dressed in cheerleader outfits. He was ogling them and called James and Patrick in to see. Uncle Bob heard and came too.
Men can be real pigs when they want to. All four of them started rating the girls, talking about how some looked hot and some didn't and some shouldn't even have been on the site. You had to buy a membership to get further into the site, but it was clear that, if you did, you'd get to see the girls in a lot less than their cheerleader outfits. So there was a lot of "Man, I'd like to see HER tits" and "I bet she's got a great ass" and "Ten bucks says she shaves her pussy." Stuff like that.
And little old me, sitting not twenty feet away, curled up in a big soft chair with a hot book that was making my pussy wet. Which is probably why I didn't call them all pigs out loud. I was horny, and seeing the men all tied up with the screen led me to believe I might be able to sneak off, find some privacy and 'rub off' as my cousin Molly would have said. I didn't know where she was at that time, and didn't really care. I didn't 'get on well' with her, but more on that later.
Anyway, it was right then that one of the twins - I don't remember which one - said "They're all OK, I guess, but Chrissy would beat them all in my book. She's just plain HOT!"
I'll never forget the other three voices chiming in with clear and forceful assent. My brother ... and my Uncle ... agreeing that I was 'Hot'. I felt a thrill that I couldn't explain.
Of course just then Uncle Bob stood up like his back was hurting from bending over peering at the screen, and he turned around and saw me. I didn't know what to do, so I just stared back at him. His face got all red and his eyes darted around here and there. Then his face sort of froze and he got a glazed look in his eyes, like his mind was somewhere else. He turned, looked at the boys, all gathered around the computer, and then turned and looked back at me and he got this funny look on his face.
He came straight over to me and sat down on another chair next to mine.
"Chrissy, dear, you know how men talk ... right? We ... uh THEY didn't mean anything by it ... you understand?"
I tried not to laugh. He was very uncomfortable. "Nice try Uncle Bob." I said, in as level a voice as I could manage.
He grinned, almost an admission that he was bullshitting. "But they ARE right about one thing," he said. "You really ARE a beautiful young woman."
Now I blushed. I could tell by his voice that he was completely serious, and that he meant it.
He looked at me with a speculative kind of look. "Take a walk with me?" he asked.
I needed a break from the book if I wasn't going to be able to put my hand in my pants, so I said OK. I didn't notice him grab a camera as we left, and when I saw it swinging from the strap in his hand outside I didn't think anything about it. He almost always had a camera in his hand.
As we walked we talked about this and that, nothing remarkable, just being together and feeling nice.
"Let me take your picture" he said as we crested a hill and you could see the water. He took me to a twisted old tree and posed me with one hand up on the trunk, looking out at the water. The wind was blowing and it plastered my shirt against my body. I didn't think about that at the time, but I'm sure he did. He had me undo my pony tail so the wind blew my hair back away from my face.
Then he took a bunch of pictures, moving all around me in a circle. Sometimes he told me to smile and sometimes he told me not to, but he left me in that one pose for all the pictures. We walked on and he took some more at another location, where I was posed beside a boulder, and then we went back to the cottage. It was nice being the center of attention in a way that made me feel beautiful.
Two weeks later I was sitting in that same chair and he came into the room with some of the pictures in his hand that he'd taken of me and developed in his darkroom. He was excited. I just looked up from my book, waiting for him to tell me whatever he was going to.
"Hey, guess what?" he asked.
I shrugged and he showed me one of the pictures. "I sent that picture to a friend of mine who publishes a magazine."
I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.
"He wants to buy it," he said.
"What?" I couldn't quite get my mind wrapped around someone wanting to buy a picture of me standing by a boulder.
"He wants to hire us to do a shoot for his magazine. You and me." he said.
"Why?" I was still having trouble understanding. I'd forgotten all about the guys ogling the cheerleaders.
"Chrissy, I told you, you're a beautiful young woman. This is a ... men's magazine." He looked at me expectantly, like that would explain everything.
It did, in one sense. I knew that men liked looking at me. They did it all the time. But, like most teenage girls, I didn't really believe they were looking at ME. I mean I thought I was reminding them of someone else, or whatever. But men wouldn't look at ME ... right? I mean there ARE girls out there who think they're hot and desirable and all that stuff, but they're the exception, rather than the rule. Most of us feel pretty plain most of the time. Then the term "men's magazine" caught up with my mind.
"What kind of pictures?" I said, warily.
He was like a used car salesman, assuring me that everything was going to be just fine. "Well, for now just swimsuit shots ... you know ... nothing too daring. He has all kinds of pictures in his magazine. Maybe a few costumes. You know ... things like that."
I DIDN'T know, but he was persuasive and I was young, and it all seemed so exciting.
So I said I'd do it.
He was ecstatic. Well, he was pretty happy about it anyway. I later found out that he wasn't selling too many photographs of 'gilded ferns' and 'mossy oaks' and stuff like that, and the prospect of being able to get some cash flowing in had taken a burden off his shoulders. But he was happy for another reason, and that, too, is the rest of the story.
I had a swim suit, of course, but it had been approved by my mother, so it wasn't suitable for a men's magazine.
Uncle Bob took me shopping.
We had to take the pictures where no one could see us. That's because the swim suit he bought me WAS pretty daring. It was a bikini and while the top supported my growing breasts, and covered the nipples, that's about ALL it did. The bottom was a thong.
He would have been a really good used car salesman. I wore it under my clothes, and I actually felt like I was stripping naked when I took them off.
He put me in all kinds of poses I was pretty stiff at first, but his obvious appreciation of my form soon had me feeling like maybe I WAS pretty. I have to say that the longer we went, the more relaxed I got, until I didn't mind him touching me as he put me in this or that position, some of which showed my bare bottom as I looked over my shoulder at him.
It was in one of those poses that I started getting in trouble. I was trying to make my face look like all those supermodels who look so sexy. I sort of puckered up my lips, like I was blowing a kiss, and I noticed that he had a big bulge in the front of his pants. It made me tingle in places I knew I shouldn't be tingling. He didn't try to hide it, but he also didn't make it obvious either. It was like he didn't know it was there, though I know he had to.
He had two cameras, one with film and another that was digital. He used them both until he couldn't take any more.
The next day he took me in a little motor boat around the curve of the island. This time I didn't feel so awkward disrobing in front of him, and he photographed that part too. Then he took what he called "wet" pictures, with me in the surf, and standing in calm water, and wet on the beach, with sand all over me, or just on some parts of me. He spent a lot of time taking close-ups of my breasts and buttocks, and it made me squirmy, but I liked it.
We had a picnic lunch and were sitting on a blanket when he said "Chrissy, I know this might sound crazy, but you're so beautiful ... would you let me take a picture of you ... for me, not for the magazine ... without your top on?"
I almost choked on my sandwich. And I felt warmth and damp invade my pussy. I knew it was naughty, but I said "OK."
It was a good thing the bottom of my suit was already wet with sea water, because when I took off the bra I got positively wet! It was so exciting to parade in front of a man almost naked. Even if he WAS my uncle. Maybe even BECAUSE he was my uncle.
He just stared at me as I sat there topless. He stared so long I finally said "Uncle Bob? The picture?"
Then he snapped out of it and "a picture" turned into about twenty-five or thirty.
Well, you know what happened. Each day as we continued shooting, there would come a time when we took some 'special' photos for his private collection. I think it was maybe the third or fourth day when I surprised myself by saying "Uncle Bob, wouldn't you like one without the bottoms too?"
He tried to act like he'd never even thought of that, but he wouldn't have sold a single car that day.
I felt so deliciously nasty as I slipped that thong down and stepped out of it. He didn't have to tell me to show a little pussy. By then I was so turned on by exhibiting my body to my handsome uncle that I'm afraid I became a little bit of a hussy. He'd never tried to touch me at all, other than to manipulate my body into the poses he wanted. I felt safe with him.
A few days later he sent the shots off to the magazine. We included some shots of me topless, but only showing my back, or me bent over in such a way as to hide my breasts.
He was paid five hundred dollars for them.
I was astounded. I later found out that was pretty low, but it seemed like an awful lot of money to me for some pictures of a girl wearing a bikini. He gave me half the money, but I told him to keep it all. We were living with him, and he was feeding us, though my daddy was beginning to get paychecks that helped too.
Instead of taking the money I suggested that there might be more to be made, and that I was willing to help make it.
Our next project involved Molly. I wasn't too keen on the idea. Molly was a geeky girl, a year older than I, who wore heavy tortoise shell glasses and had a reedy voice with a high pitched giggle that grated on the ears. I hadn't really gotten to know her because she was a pain to be around.
But Uncle Bob thought his friend would pay more for shots with two girls in them. So I got Molly off to the side and showed her one of the less erotic shots of me and explained the deal.
She looked at me with big round eyes and said "Really? You'd let me in those pictures with YOU? But you're so beautiful and I'm so plain!"
Uncle Bob had another photographer friend on the mainland who did glamour shots as part of his business. That Saturday Uncle Bob gathered up the whole family and we all got on the big sailboat and went across to the mainland. While everybody else went shopping, Molly and I visited his friend. Even I didn't recognize her when he got done with her. It was amazing. Of course she couldn't see a thing without her glasses, but, once she got an idea of what she looked like without them she refused to put them back on and just held my elbow as we walked back to the boat.
Mark, James and Patrick were already back at the boat, not having had much money to spend, and were lounging around on deck, hoping some lonely desperate girl(s) would wander along the dock. When I walked up with Molly on my arm Patrick said "What did you do with Molly, Chrissy? And who's that lovely creature with you?" All three boys perked up and started preening.
"I found a new friend" I called out as we approached the gangplank. It was actually Mark who figured it out first. Molly was afraid to try to walk up the plank alone, without her glasses on, and we couldn't both fit on it at the same time, so she pulled out her glasses. Mark recognized them.
"Molly?" he said incredulously. "Is that you?"
"What?" Said James.
Patrick's eyes about jumped out of his head. "It IS you!" he gasped. "Man oh man! What in the world happened to you?"
Molly was all embarrassed now. She wasn't used to being noticed by anyone, really. Mark had stood up and was waiting at the top of the gangplank. He actually held his hand out to her as she staggered up the plank with my hands on her waist to stabilize her. Her glasses dangled in her hand.
"Wow" said my brother. There was awe in his voice, and we could all hear it. Molly smiled tentatively, blushing. "You're beautiful" said my brother. I could have kissed him.
The first time we posed together was really strange. It was nice in one way, because having Molly there with me made me feel like I wasn't so alone. Her body was different than mine. She had more of a plump look, with a little extra flesh on her thighs and the beginnings of a roll on her abdomen. Her breasts were bigger too, more full. When she put on the bikini I felt like one of those skinny models standing beside Raquel Welch or something.
But there was another side to it too, and that was that now I didn't have all of my Uncle's attention. And Molly and I found ourselves doing little things to compete for that attention. I think some of them were just natural girl stuff, that women do unconsciously, but we emphasized them. Like sticking out our breasts, or standing with our legs spread a little and pulling the bikini bottom up tight so that ... things ... showed through better.
And a strange thing happened to us both. Neither of us had lesbian tendencies, but in our little competitions we recognized the sexuality of each other. I NOTICED her breasts and ... appreciated them. She NOTICED my camel toe ... and was attracted to it. It was weird.
And when Uncle Bob wanted us to be touching each other, it didn't seem odd at all. We ended up hugging, and draping our arms all over each other. In one picture I stood behind her with my arms around her, my hands splayed out on her abdomen and I had the strongest urge to slide my hands down and feel her pussy.
I should have known that naked pictures of me wouldn't be enough for him. But I was young, and didn't know a man can hardly ever get enough.
And so, when he wanted pictures with both of us topless, and Molly found out I'd let him take those kind before, she agreed. It's so much easier to say 'yes' to something naughty if there's someone else that will say 'yes' with you. That's how I ended up holding her lovely heavy breasts in my hands, and feeling the evidence of her own arousal in her stiffened nipples.
We got hot and he could tell, and it wasn't long before we were bottomless as well, still posing together. We were both wet. I could smell her and she smelled different than me. We weren't talking - I think it was her reedy voice that made me dislike her at first - and all that touching got us both wet. And I don't mean with sea water either.
I still don't know how it happened, but suddenly Molly and I were kissing, our fronts mashed to each other and our mons rubbing together with slow, powerful swipes. I heard the camera clicking and didn't care. I had to taste those erect nipples. I'd always wanted to taste my own, but I couldn't reach them. And hers were delicious. She tasted salty with a little sweat because we were out in the sunlight. And then she was doing mine and I about fainted.
I think we completely forgot he was even there. I know she ended up on her back, knees up, thighs spread while I crawled over her in the classic 69 position as our desire to taste each other demanded deeper involvement. I know she came, as did I. And I know that we both looked at Uncle Bob at the same time when he made a moaning sound.
He was standing not three feet from us, his shorts down around his ankles, his hips thrust forward, camera dangling from its strap from his left hand. His right hand was slicking back and forth on the very first naked penis I ever saw up close. It looked MONSTROUS to me then. Now, of course, I know he was normal sized, but back then it looked like what they called a shillelagh in those parts.
We both stared as he ravaged that thing and then he was gasping and choking and long streams of white came shooting out. It splattered all over us as we lay on the ground and, where it hit my side it felt hot.
You'd think both of us would have been screaming "EWWWWWWW" at being splashed with my Uncle's spunk, but we were so emotional right then that we just dove back into eating pussy.
Of course something like that just can't happen without it changing just about everything between the participants. We were no different. Our "photo shoots" became more and more about sexual play and it wasn't long before we were both "helping" him jack off.
It was just a tiny step from that to tasting him ... and that hot fluid he produced. And if you've had your face all slick and messy with girl juice, having boy juice in your mouth is almost no difference at all.
Now that I'm older I think it was a little like a drug addiction. I knew we weren't supposed to be doing any of this, and I didn't keep going to what we called photo shoots for the purpose of having sex. But when I got there, and got naked, and saw other naked people, the horniness just welled up and I did crazy things!
Like one day when Molly and I had pleasured each other and were resting, my uncle hadn't cum yet. He got down on his knees between my spread thighs and jacked on his meaty cock with the tip only inches away from my pussy. He was talking nasty to me, about how close his prick was to my pussy, and how good my pussy would feel if it was all around his prick. He was so horny you could just see it! And I got horny too and I spread my labia apart, opening my hole and I was talking nasty too. Neither of us actually thought about doing it. Not then, anyway, or at least not seriously.
But when his semen spurted out that time it shot right into my open pussy. And I creamed as I watched it happen. I actually had an orgasm without him even touching me, except for his spend, which splatted all over my pussy mouth.
He knelt there, still holding his prick, which was dripping sperm and stared at what he'd done. I think he was scared, because he had this look on his face like he was partly horrified and partly fulfilled. I think he would have stopped the pictures, stopped having us naked, stopped everything after that except for what happened next.
Molly reached over with two of her fingers and scooped up a big dollop of his cream, her own daddy's cream, and she slurped it down. I mean she'd eaten his stuff straight from his prick lots of times, and so had I, but this was different somehow.
The very next day The postman came by. He had a route he did with a boat and everybody got mail once a week. He had two boxes that were for my Uncle and when he found out he got so excited we couldn't wait to find out what was in the boxes. But when we saw him with them, tied up with string, all he said was that we were going over to the south shore of the island to take some pictures in a big jumble of volcanic looking rocks over there. He took the boxes along. Of course we were rabidly curious about what was in them, but he wouldn't say. He also had a big blanket. We knew what that was for. It was for the two of us to frolic on during the pictures.
We got there after a longish hike. Uncle Bob was so excited we knew something was up. Finally he pointed to the boxes. "There's outfits in there. Put them on" he said.
We opened them up and giggled. They were cheerleader outfits. They matched and looked like they were the real thing.
Molly squealed and said "Daddy, where in the world did you get these?"
"Ebay" he said shortly. He was fidgeting and he was already stiff. I could see his prick poking out the front of his pants.
When we put them on we realized they had been altered. No foundation or built in bra ... and no panties. The skirts were short enough that if we bent over our butts would show. Of course we were used to being naked, so that didn't bother us.
What we didn't know was that Uncle Bob had a letch for cheerleaders.
He started taking pictures, just like he always did, but then something happened that blew my mind. Molly was lying on the blanket, one leg straight up in the air, her pussy plainly visible (and plainly wet). He got closer and closer and closer and then he put down the camera, dropped his pants and lay down on top of his daughter!
"DADDY!" yipped Molly "What are you DOING?!"
He was making these noises that were a cross between sobs and growls and grunts and I heard the words "can't take it any more" and "Sorry" and "can't help it".
As for Molly, it was almost comical. She said a lot of things, but I remember it going something like this: "DADDY! You stop that right now Daddy! Pictures is one thing ... licking me is one thing ... but ... DADDY! ... OWWW! ... DADDY YOU'RE PUTTING IT .... OHHHHOWWWAAAHHH."
Then it was quiet for just a few seconds and I saw his naked hairy butt shove between thighs that were suddenly on each side of him and he went sort of "MMMmffunng."
Then Molly started talking again. "Ooooo, owww, um... Ohhhhh Daddy! Ummmmmmm ... uh ... OH! that feels BETTER ... mmmmmm ... OH! DADDY!" and then her butt bounced up off the blanket and they were suddenly fucking like crazy. Her hands left his chest, where she'd been trying to push him away, and went around his back and then they slid down and grabbed his butt and she PULLED as he slammed into her. I couldn't see his prick, but I knew what it was doing and I knew she had to be stuffed just as full of Daddy prick as it was possible to be.
Then her legs went up in the air as she squealed that she was cumming and they wrapped around his back. He made these little quick thrusts and each one was punctuated with a grunt and then he froze, like he'd been hit with some magic ray or something.
He let out a gut-wrenching groan and Molly sighed "OH Daddy!"
I was dripping wet. My cousin had just gotten her pussy drenched in sperm and I'd have sworn it was dripping out of me. I had juice running down my thighs as I stood there in shock. the whole thing had taken only two or three minutes.
Well, after it was all done he was horrified that he'd raped his daughter. But the funny thing was that Molly had a streak of slut in her. She'd always been mousy and plain and nobody paid much attention to her as a woman, and even though it was her own father who picked her cherry, it turned out that she just flat LOVED having it picked.
So while he was blubbering about what a cad he was (we call them perverts in America), she was hugging him and kissing him and telling him that everything was OK. I could tell that as far as she was concerned, the only thing that would be wrong about it was if he never did it to her AGAIN!
The only way we could get Uncle Bob to calm down was to get dressed and then get HIM dressed. We hiked back to the house and, by the time we got there he had gotten hold of himself.
Things had a chance to cool off, because the next day my father announced that he was going to treat us all to a shopping trip down in Galaway. We were to sail down there and spend the day sight seeing and shopping and then sail back. And however long it took was how long it would take. We had four beds on the boat, and if we docked we could always get rooms in a hotel or something.
As things worked out, Uncle Bob didn't go. Neither did my cousin James or my aunt. So, when we set out, it was Patrick and my brother doing the sailing, with my father trying to learn, and Molly and me as passengers, more or less. Molly and I had brought out our "new" bathing suits, having gotten up the courage to tell the men in our family that we were grown women now and would wear what we wanted. Can you imagine two girls at or near the tender age of sixteen making that bold statement?
We probably got away with it because my father had brought along a bottle of some sort and was quite mellow, sitting against the mast, staring out to sea. Patrick and Mark, once they saw the suits, agreed with our decision completely. Did I mention that men can be pigs?
Patrick took a great interest in me and wanted to teach me to sail. This time, having no book, and liking the way he looked at my bare buttocks, I decided to give it a whirl. He was actually a pretty good teacher, and when he was talking about sailing he paid attention to that, instead of staring at my breasts. We'd been at it for an hour or so when I noticed that Mark and Molly were nowhere to be seen.
"Where'd they go?" I asked Patrick.
"Oh, more 'n likely they're in the galley, getting a bite," he said, tightening a rope. I loved the way his muscles rippled on his naked chest. "Which," he went on, "is a right fine idea if you ask me. I could use a sandwich."
"I'll get it" I volunteered, and scampered toward the cabin. The door was closed, which was odd, because there was a little latch that held it open most of the time. Not thinking I opened the door and walked right in.
My brother and my cousin were in one of the bunks. Her leg was up in the air, hanging out from the bunk, and her bikini thong was dangling from her ankle. Mark's bare butt was bobbing up and down between her thighs as she told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was making her VERY happy, and that, if he stopped, it would be the WORST thing in the world.
I stood there shocked, not at what Molly was doing, but because it was my brother who was doing it to her. I noticed, in a part of my brain that wasn't currently under my complete control, that he had a very nice, tight butt.
He scooted up with his knees, bending Molly and folding her up, sort of, and where they were joined came into view. He had a very thick, very white and very hard looking penis, and he was fucking her with it like there was no tomorrow. As I watched, and as the panty of my own bikini started getting soaked, I saw a ring of thick white build up around his prick, where it was sliding in and out of her. That ring got smooshed onto her pussy lips and I realized he had shot off in her and was still going strong. Feeling light headed, I backed out of there and found myself standing on deck.
Patrick came up behind me and put his hands on my waist. I turned around and found a pair of very green eyes looking into mine.
"Who's driving the boat?" I asked in a trembly voice.
"I tied the tiller" he said, as if that explained everything. "Where's my sandwich?"
"Well ... I uh ... there was a little problem ... I guess." I managed. I must have been pale and he raised an eyebrow.
"So, they're not having a bite," he said.
"No" I sort of moaned. In my head all I could see was that thick column of Mark's penis sliding in ... and out ... and in ...
"He's not forcing her ... is he?" There was steel in his question.
"Oh no" I assured him. "No, there was no forcing going on down there. None at all."
He laughed. "Did it look like fun?"
Now you have to understand that, at this point in time, I had seen my cousin lose her virginity to her father, and then being just FUCKED half to death by my brother, and never a word of complaint coming out of her mouth. Well, not if you don't count the couple of "OWWW"s from the day before. AND, I had read probably sixty or seventy of my mother's books, about how wonderful it all was, and how romantic, and how thrilling it is to have a man's hands on your body.
That would have been enough. But I think the thing that was the most dangerous for me wasn't having my pussy licked or my nipples sucked. I think it was when I felt that hot splat of Uncle Bob's semen on my pussy. It felt so good on my pussy.
I just knew it would feel even better IN my pussy.
Patrick was so handsome. And he was standing so close to me. And his hands on my hips felt so nice.
And something in me just snapped and I said "It looked like they were having a LOT of fun."
And then I kissed him.
He couldn't just take me on the open deck. My dad was drunk, but not THAT drunk. And the only other place was behind that door.
He took my hand and pulled me toward that door and I let him. We barged right in there and he said "Don't mind us ... carry on." as he pulled me to a bunk across from them. He was very deliberate about untying the bows that held my suit on and gently made me naked. He pulled down his own suit and I saw he had a long, thin penis that bent a little, so completely different from my brothers. It looked smooth and velvety and I knew he was going to put it in me.
I don't know why Molly yelled "Owww" like that. When Patrick put his in me I never felt anything except fantastic. Every one of those books was completely true. I could feel every bump and ridge of his beautiful penis as it slithered up in me. And when he moved it in me I thought I might just explode from the joy of it.
Somebody was making loud disgusting slutty noises as he speeded up, but when I turned my head and looked across the room both Mark and Molly were staring at ME with these amazed looks on their faces. I knew it wasn't Patrick who was yelling "FUCK ME, GIVE ME THAT LUSCIOUS PRICK, POUND ME WITH IT" but it was getting hard to concentrate so I gave up trying to figure it out. There was an orgasm about an inch away and I was really interested in that.
I DO remember hearing Patrick say "Ohhhhh Chrissy honey, I'm gonna cum."
And I DO remember that horrible person yelling "OH PATRICK, CUM IN MY PUSSY PLEEEASE!"
And then my world just went ... bonkers, I believe is the word they use over there.
Now I want you to understand something. I had not planned for this to happen, and as it DID happen I was sort of swept along. It was like being in a river at flood stage - in the middle of the river - as it rushes along. I wasn't close enough to anything to grab on and stop myself.
It's confusing in a way. If you had come up to me and said "Chrissy, we're going to have Patrick stick his penis in your virgin pussy and shove it back and forth until it spurts semen inside you ... right up there by your womb. So how do you feel about that Chrissy?"
Well, I would have said "Gee, it all sounds kind of interesting ... but I think I'll pass for now."
Except by the time I felt that penis shoving into me, I couldn't think very clearly, and by the time I felt that nice, warm, wet sperm being flushed into my womb, I positively wanted that in me more than anything in the world.
What I'm getting around to is that, after it was all over and Patrick got up and ran back up on deck to make sure we weren't going to crash into anything, I lay there on that bunk, not sure of whether I was happy or not.
And then, while I was still thinking about that, and still feeling the heat inside me from Patrick's spend, my brother was standing over me, naked, his penis all wilted now, and slick and shiny with his own sperm. I was lying on my back, and my left leg was half off the bunk, with my left heel on the floor or deck or whatever they call them, so my legs were spread. He was staring at my pussy, and when I raised my head I saw that there was all this thick white stuff filling the mouth of my pussy and beginning to run out of me.
He had the strangest look on his face, and then he looked at my face and our eyes locked. I felt ashamed and then he said "Chrissy, you're so beautiful!"
Well, you could have knocked me down on that bed with one breath of air ... if I wasn't already lying there, looking like what I thought a slut must look like. I remember saying "Thank you" and feeling like that was about the most stupid thing in the world to say just then. He turned around and went back to Molly and lay back down with her and they started kissing and stuff.
By the time I got my bikini back on, he was fucking her AGAIN!
I went back up on deck. Patrick was back at the tiller thing. I felt bashful. Part of it was that I felt more naked with my bikini on than I had without it, because I knew he'd look at me and remember what I had looked like naked. Isn't that strange?
But I went back there to talk to my first lover. Well, Uncle Bob was my first lover I suppose, in one sense, but I would remember Patrick forever. He smiled at me and said "You OK?"
"Yeah, I guess." I answered him.
"You sorry we did it?"
I didn't know how to answer that. "Maybe a little, but it was ..." I couldn't find the right words to describe what I had gone through. Finally I looked in his eyes and said "No ... I'm not sorry."
"Neither (He pronounced it nyther) am I. It was wonderful. Thank you." There was the shortest of pauses. "Um ... you are on the pill, right?" he said.
"No" I didn't know what else to say. I hadn't exactly planned on losing my virginity that day.
"Haven't you done this before?" he asked, his eyebrows climbing.
"No" I still didn't know what to say.
"Oh" he looked shocked. Fine time to ask a girl ... AFTER you've spurted your stuff up inside her.
Then he did something that probably made more difference to me right then than anything else. He hugged me. It was just a hug, albeit a long one, but it was him saying I wasn't alone on the planet and it felt really good. And he whispered "Thank you ... I'm honored." into my ear, through my hair.
I think I decided right then and there that, if he wanted to do it with me again, I'd probably say "When? Now! Yes! Hurry!."
In fact, I am completely embarrassed to say that I don't really remember much about Galaway, or shopping. We didn't have all that much money so we couldn't buy a lot. I know we ate, and I know it was good, but I can't remember what it was.
That's because I kept thinking about what was going to happen on the trip back. I knew we'd do it again. It was all I could think about.
And, as soon as we were well away from shore, Patrick turned to my brother and said "Take the tiller Mark. Chrissy and I have something to discuss down below."
Molly and I were still in our shopping clothes, just regular shorts and shirts, and as I was going down the steps into the cabin I glanced around and she was pulling her shirt off, baring her breasts to the steersman, or whatever they are called.
I was conflicted. All I had thought about all day long was Patrick's hard, smooth body and the feel of his lips on mine and the feel of being stuffed, and I was creaming my panties already.
But I also knew this was CRAZY. I'd had a period about three weeks ago, but hadn't studied up on the Rhythm System, not knowing I'd have a pop quiz on the subject, so I didn't actually know how dangerous things were.
We just stood there, swaying back and forth with the action of the waves. He reached in his pocket and pulled out something. "I bought a condom in Galaway," he said.
"Oh" I was back to not having much to say.
"Do you want to ...?" he let it trail off. We both knew what he meant.
"I don't know ... do you?" I responded.
Now for the girls out there who are reading this, let me assure you, there IS such a thing as a stupid question, regardless of what all those "Have confidence in yourself lecturers" say. And one example of a stupid question is for a girl to ask a guy if he wants to have sex with her.
"Yes" he answered truthfully. His hands went to his buckle and he dropped his shorts, and there, before my eyes was his beautiful long hard penis. "See what you do to me?"
I'm not sure how it happened, but I was suddenly on my knees, examining that beautiful long hard penis, cupping his balls with one hand and playing with his cock with the other. I knew what to do then, and I tasted him, like I had tasted my Uncle. His knees actually buckled! I knew I was doing it OK when he had to sit down, and then lie back.
This time, it was like I was the one in charge. I sucked on him for a while, but when he started whimpering and I thought he was going to squirt I stopped. I told him to put the condom on and while he did that I got undressed. He started to sit up but I pushed him back down and straddled him. I was plenty wet, and I had no trouble lining up his prick with my pussy. By then I was so horny that I just sat on him, taking him into me in one swoop. Then I froze because I still wasn't used to being stretched like that.
The first thing I noticed was that it didn't feel the same. He wasn't as hot, and I couldn't feel the bumps and ridges on him like before. I clenched my muscles on him and he made a sound.
But it just wasn't the same.
I wanted it to feel the same, because what he'd done to me before was too good to go without. So I got off of him (boy did he squeal!) and hooked my fingernail under the condom down at the bottom. It took me two tries to get a grip on it because it was all slick and slippery. His head was up and he said "What are you ..." It was about then that I got the grip and just ripped that thing off of him. He winced - I wasn't being careful - and then his eyes got big as I got back on him and got my pussy stuffed again.
Ahhhhhh that was better. Just like that ... condoms were out of my life, probably forever.
I liked being on top, because I could lean forward and really rub my clitty just wonderfully. And I could sit up and feel his prick trying to climb into my womb. I hit an orgasm, and it wasn't so overpowering as the ones before, but it lasted longer and I was able to keep it going by leaning forward. Then as that one seeped away he started playing with my nipples, squeezing them and WHAM I was right back in orgasm again. I know my pussy was squeezing and moving around, because I could feel it. I wasn't in complete control of that. It was in the middle of that second orgasm that I felt that wave of heat inside me and his prick jumped and he groaned and moaned and went all rigid.
I know I shouldn't, but I just love the feel of hot sperm running into my pussy.
And when we went back up on deck, there was my brother, on top of Molly and she was urging him on, slamming her pussy up off the deck as my father watched from where he was leaning up against the mast. He was crying deep racking sobs. I found the bottle he was holding and threw it overboard while he said my mother's name over and over again. I think he was back in the past, watching Mark and Molly, and remembering what he and his dead wife had shared.
But you know what? That was the last time I ever saw him drink from a bottle. He didn't quit, but he cut back so much he lived an almost normal life after that. Maybe seeing whatever he was seeing in his mind was so horrible that he couldn't take the thought of ever seeing it again.
Well, since men can be pigs, as you can imagine, quite soon after we got back to the island, the only person around who didn't know about all the sperm resting in Molly and my pussies was Aunt Violet, who everybody assumed would NOT see the humor in what had been going on.
My uncle was positively agitated when Molly went up to him and whispered in his ear. They went off somewhere and when they came back she was grinning that "I've just been fucked SOOOO good" smile and he was all sheepish.
And he looked at me very closely too when he suggested that, perhaps, the people buying the photographs might pay even MORE for pictures with both boys AND girls in them. Of course we girls agreed, and immediately went to talk to the other potential 'models'. We didn't know exactly what to do about James, until Molly said she'd pose with him.
I don't think he really believed us until the next day when we all trooped off across the island for some 'wet' shots. When Molly and I stripped down and began frolicking in the surf though, the boys' clothing just flew through the air and soon it was a free-for-all while Uncle Bob snapped merrily away.
Then began the serious business of taking hot pictures that would, we found out later, bring almost a hundred dollars PER shot if there was actual sex going on in them. It just naturally seemed like Mark and Molly should pose together, and that the twins and I should pose together. Lots of these were "nudist" type shots, or pictures of us doing normal things, just naked as when we were born.
But there was this problem. All three of the male models had stiffies.
Uncle Bob suggested we do a few hand job and oral shots, and the stiffies went away while he took several thousand dollars worth of pictures.
That's all we did that day, because it was actually a lot of work to pose, and we were hot and sweaty, and eventually hungry too. So we knocked off for the day and lounged around that afternoon. I wanted to read, but it was noisy in the house, so I took a lawn chair and a blanket and pillow and went off with my book out into the woods.
I had been reading for fifteen or twenty minutes when my brother showed up. He was obviously looking for me, but pretended that he had just been out for a walk and stumbled onto my hiding place.
"I'm surprised to see you out here alone." I kidded him. While I was a bit uncomfortable about the fact that, at fifteen, I was getting an awful lot of experience with men, the fact that my cousin was acting like a perfect slut didn't bother me at all.
"Oh ... well, Molly was busy," he said, kind of subdued like.
I was still kidding when I said "Uncle Bob, or one of the twins?"
He looked at me and with a completely straight face he said "All three."
My mouth fell open. "You're kidding!" I said. I meant it. I thought he WAS kidding.
But he wasn't. He sat down and we talked about it. His feelings weren't hurt, exactly, because he knew there was no real future for the two of them. But he liked being able to ... take care of things ... in a way that didn't always involve his hand.
I was kidding again when I said "You want ME to do it for you?" I knew I had made a mistake when he got this look on his face like a puppy who thinks you have a treat for it, and it's so excited it starts dribbling all over the kitchen floor.
"Oh WOULD you, Chrissy? Would you really? That would be so nice."
And, before I knew it, he was lying on the blanket with his pants down around his knees and I was fisting his penis with what little expertise I had developed since I became a smut model.
And bless his heart, he acted like I was the most talented and desirable partner for jerking off that he had ever even thought of.
He started getting close and I thought about the mess he was about to make, so I slipped my mouth down on him and he came unglued. He flopped like he was having a seizure or something.
He was all limp when I got done, and my knees hurt, so I lay down beside him and we talked for a while. We probably had more quality conversation in the next twenty minutes than we'd had as brother and sister in the last two years.
Of course we ended up talking about the sex on the boat, and what had happened with Uncle Bob before that, and the pictures and all. The next thing I knew was that he was all hard again. Like I said before, his penis looked different than either of the other two boys. Theirs were long and slim and bent. His was thick and white and the same diameter all the way from the tip to his balls. He had what I'd call a root, while the others had stalks. If you can get into plant talk.
Anyway, I was playing with it a little and he said that he owed me, since I'd done something nice for him. I should have known better than to take my shorts and panties off, but I didn't know as much about men then as I thought I did, so I figured he'd just lick me and I'd get off and then maybe I'd suck him again.
And he DID lick me, doing a VERY nice job of it. He was particularly good at using his teeth on my clitty and I got sloppy right away. I had a very nice orgasm and was panting and thanking him when I felt him slide my shirt up. If I hadn't known better than to bare my pussy to him, I surely knew that if he got to my nipples I'd let him do anything to me, but I was in the afterglow of a nice cum and it wasn't until I felt that special kind of pain in my nipples that I knew he was sucking one.
And then I felt his finger prod my pussy and start sliding in and that was really nice too.
Except it wasn't his finger.
And of course I was too far gone then to push him away.
My brother is a GOOD lover. I mean he's one of the best. Not just then, but compared to every lover I've ever had since then. Once he got that thing in me I knew why Molly was acting the slut. I knew my brother would have that thing in me regularly from then on.
And I knew I'd never even think of asking him to take it out when it began spitting.
Half an hour (and at least five orgasms) later, he looked down at me and said "I'm going to cum."
I said something that came out "gurgle me gurgle gurgle out" and he said "You want me to take it out before I cum?"
I managed to get real words into my mouth. "You should" I croaked.
"Yeah, I should" he said. "But do you want me to? Do I have to?"
I got this feeling in me like I've never gotten again. "You mean you want to cum in me, knowing that it might make me pregnant?"
I'd said the wrong things all day. This time was no different. "Yes" he said. "Can I?"
Lets go back to life before all this, when you were asking me questions and I wasn't in the throes of passion.
You'd say "Well, Chrissy, how would you like your brother to stick his penis in you and then fill you full of his brotherly incestuous sperm, so that you might have his baby?"
And I'd say "Well, gee, though it sounds interesting, I think that would probably be a pretty bad idea."
Really, that's what I would probably say. But ... I WAS in the throes of passion, and instead I said "Yeeessssssss."
And he was primed. I was on the last 'S' when I felt his prick swell and his fire started shooting into me, deep, wet and dangerous. I had another orgasm.
I was right about that other thing too, just so I can say 'I told you so'. That night, in the middle of the night, Mark snuck into my room and crawled in bed with me. I didn't say a word, just spread my legs and welcomed that beautiful hard penis deep inside me. I let him shoot in me that time too.
The next day things deteriorated at the photo shoot. Molly said she was horny and needed a nice hard cock. Three boys and a man volunteered to help her. Uncle Bob, of course, had to take the pictures, since there were probably three or four thousand dollars worth in getting her satisfied.
And while Mark took care of her, the twins took care of me. I batted them away at first, teasing them and running, but they caught me easily, and my passions soon left me breathless.
They wanted to take me at the same time - it turns out Molly had lost her anal virginity the previous afternoon - but I didn't think I'd like that, so I had one in my mouth while the other filled up my pussy.
It was like that the rest of the day.
Uncle Bob stopped long enough to teach the boys how to use the camera and then got in the pictures with each of us girls, sometimes both at the same time.
He ran out of film early so we went home early for lunch.
Which is when we found out Aunt Violet might have had a better sense of humor than we thought. She was fucking my father's balls off in the kitchen, him seated in a chair and her riding him for all she was worth while she all but smothered him with her big pillowy breasts. We loitered outside, waiting for them to finish and my brother managed to get one more dose of his spunk in me ... right in front of all the others.
I was thoroughly debauched by then.
I won't bore you with the details, but the women of the family soon banded together to service the men. It was a foregone conclusion that us girls would get with child, and we promptly did. Aunt Violet, of course, was older and, we thought, less fertile. We were wrong in that, and she missed her first period not long after Molly and I missed ours.
But it was a commune sort of atmosphere, with share and share alike, and what with Daddy working (and liking it a whole lot more than before, because he was happier now), and the money that came in from the pictures, there were no financial worries.
Molly and I contemplated what it would be like to never leave, never "cleave to a man and marry", and decided that perhaps all that was hyped up a little. After all, we had FIVE men to 'cleave to' whenever we wanted to. And soon there would be children to love and raise, and then more children, and if another woman could be found to bring into the family ... even more children.
And after all, isn't that what Mother Nature is all about? Making babies ... to take the place of those of us who live out our lives and pass on, like my mother?
I'd much rather admit to loving the natural order of things than to just say I'm horny.
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