One On One With Uncle Bob
Author's Note: This story was generated in my head when I read "Laurie" posted by Alcemedies at Storiesonline.org in 2000. He said "Laurie" was a rewrite of something he'd found on the web, but didn't know who wrote it originally. I liked his re-write a lot, but it left an ache in my ... well, you know ... I wanted to know where the brother and sister in his story ended up. So I decided to shamelessly steal his idea and enlarge it, to get to where I wanted his story to go. So, I asked him if I could and he agreed, and here's a remake of a rewrite of somebody out there's original story.
I woke up and drifted in that land between sleep and wakefulness that feels so good on a Saturday morning. I didn't have anything to do ... well, not counting mowing the lawn and helping Mom wash the windows, and fixing the chain on my bike that had slipped off the sprocket when I didn't want to get my hands all greasy to fix it. But basically I still had some time to loaf, and I did it in bed.
Dad worked Saturdays, at his furniture store. I was only fifteen, and exempt for a couple of more years from being drafted to work there too. I was kind of conflicted about that. I knew he'd pay me if I worked for him, and that would be nice, but having the freedom to sleep in on Saturdays and run around was really precious too, you know?
So I lay there and thought about girls.
I thought about Becky Thompson, who had kissed me at the Freshman dance at the end of school last year, but who wasn't allowed to date. She'd made the most of being able to be with a boy that night, let me tell you. She rubbed all up against me and held me real tight while we danced and then kissed me on the last dance. I'd gone home with a boner you could have broken concrete with.
Then there was Ruthie Valdez, who was a dusky-skinned Hispanic girl who sat beside me in World History. She had dark eyes and big breasts and she wore sweaters a lot that did nothing to hide them. She didn't overtly flirt with me or anything ... she was just friendly and that was all it took for my fifteen year old imagination to take off from there. I imagined her body like I had seen Hispanic models in Playboy, with that black pubic hair and dark nipples. She was good for a boner too.
Lindy Breckenridge was one of my best friends from down the street, and we had grown up together. She was blond and perky and somewhere along the way she grew breasts and hips and her lips got all full and pouty. She still wore her hair in a pony tail almost all the time and that got to me too, even though she'd always worn it that way. She and I had played "You show me yours and I'll show you mine" back when we were about eleven, and had stood facing each other naked for what seemed like two hours, just staring at each other. I got a boner then too. Then, without a word, she had bent over, pulled on her clothes and ran ... RAN ... out of the shed we were in. After that she wouldn't play that game any more. We never talked about it, really. It was just like "Been there, done that, got that T shirt." ... at least for her. But I remembered her, and as she grew those breasts and hips and pouty lips it wasn't hard for me to superimpose them over her real memory. She was always good for a boner, but I didn't ever tell her that.
Just thinking about those three girls had given me the boner I wanted to produce, so I could stroke the crap out of it and squirt, which was the best way in the world to start a Saturday morning. So I stroked and dreamed and was about to fill up a Kleenex when my sister pounded on my door and yelled.
"GET UP SQUIRT, MOM WENT TO GET WINDOW WASHING STUFF AND TOLD ME TO HAVE YOU READY WHEN SHE GETS BACK."
I knew that if I didn't get up she'd come barging in, so I left off taking care of things and got up. I was wearing the PJs my Aunt gave me. They had footballs and baseballs and soccer balls and all that crap on them, like they were for a seven year old, but they were kind of like boxers ... loose and comfortable and light, so I wore them.
All of a sudden I was famished. I decided to get dressed after breakfast.
Jill had gone downstairs after she ruined my morning wakeup ritual, and was coming back up to her room, I guess. She was still dressed in her sleep shirt, which was really a 2X T shirt that had a picture of Jimmy Hendrix on it playing a guitar. It was my Dad's, but she stole it and got away with it. She always gets away with anything she wants to. She thinks because she's two years older than me ... well a year and a half, anyway, that she's special or something. She liked to tease me too, which is why she called me "Squirt" all the time. She knew I didn't like it.
So I didn't, like flatten myself against the wall to let her by or anything. I mean the hallway is wide enough for two people to cross paths if they're polite, you know?
And as I went past her, she pinched my butt! HARD!
"Hey!" I twisted away from her. She was laughing and bent over, trying to reach around me and pinch me again!
"Knock it off!" I yelped, dancing around and batting at her hands.
"Poor baby" she crooned, still trying to get to my butt. I noticed that her shirt collar was kind of loose, and I could see most of two surprisingly big and soft looking boobs.
She got me again because I was distracted and I yelled. It HURT!
Well, you know what they say. The best defense is a good offense.
So I went after HER ass. I basically just walked toward her, instead of trying to get away, and surprised her. I crushed her against the wall with my upper body and grabbed two handfuls of ass that were surprisingly round and soft. Except I didn't pinch them, exactly. I just squeezed them really hard. Except that they were so big and spongy that I couldn't really squeeze them all that hard.
She shrieked, oddly enough in a laughing way, like she was actually glad I was standing up for myself or something and her fingers dug into my ribs where she knew I was ticklish.
I really AM ticklish. I mean I get incapacitated when I get tickled, so I backed off so fast I banged into the other wall. She was laughing again, her fingers reaching for me as I swung my arms trying to keep her hands away from my ribs.
Suddenly she stopped. She turned and walked away, like it was all over. Then she looked over her shoulder at me and bent over and wagged her butt at me.
"Is this what squirt likes?" she teased. "Is this what pervert little brother wants to touch?"
I must have gotten one of those looks on my face that told her I was mad, because she ran.
Maybe if she wouldn't have run, I wouldn't have chased her. I don't know. I knew that if I caught her all she'd do was tickle her way free, but something snapped in me and I took off after her growling like a bear. She shrieked again, laughing and looking over her shoulder at me, until she reached her room and swung inside.
I charged in after her. What I didn't know was that, as she gripped the door jamb to swing into her room, she kept hold of it, swinging all the way around and against the wall. I dashed right past her, thinking she was going for her bed, to put it between her and me, and she was on me from behind like a cat on a mouse.
I was headed for the bed, and when she crashed into the back of me, her hands reaching around me to tickle, she just pushed me faster and we both fell down on her bed, kind of sideways. I tried to roll as she bounced up into the air a little bit and ended up under her, with her straddling my waist. Her hands went straight for my ribs.
My head and legs were hanging off opposite sides of her bed and I did a kind of sit-up and rolled, trying to get out from under her. All that did was get me stretched out on the bed with her still straddling me, sitting on my abdomen.
She had this evil grin on her face. I was taller than her, and had pretty good muscles, but you can't use all that when you're as ticklish as I am, and all I could do was try and grab her wrists. I got one of them, but she managed to dig her other fingers into my ribs and I jerked, lifting both of us up off the bed.
That was when I saw her pussy.
She wasn't wearing panties. Her shirt was up around her hips, kind of pulled back behind her, and I could see almost from her belly button clear down to two fat looking pink lips that were pressed together under a fluff of reddish looking hair. Her hair is kind of reddish or auburn or whatever color they call brown with red glints to it. Her pussy hair was the same color, if a little lighter, and with a little more red to it.
Now I know she was my sister and all, but I was fifteen, and, not counting Lindy, this was the first real live pussy I had ever seen. And this one didn't look ANYTHING like Lindy's had.
So I stared.
Well, that distracted me and she got her other hand loose and, not knowing that she was giving me a sweet shot, she went back to tickling. I swear I didn't mean to do it, but as I tried frantically to tickle back, I suddenly had two hands full of the softest, most fantastic feeling breasts a boy could imagine. It was amazing. They looked so firm and hard when she walked around. Maybe a bra makes them look like that. I had been hugged by women, and their breasts felt mostly firm and stuff. I could feel two bumps that I knew were nipples and, as my hands slid around on her boobs I could feel that THOSE were hard, but the breasts they were attached to were amazingly soft.
She froze, and the strangest look came over her face as she looked down to see my two hands fastened firmly on her tits, one on either side of Jimmy Hendrix, who was flailing away at his guitar, oblivious of what was going on right underneath him.
You know how they do things in slow motion in the movies, to let you fully experience all the things that are happening in a rush during a scene?
It was like that. I felt her breasts under my hands, and I looked at her pussy, and I felt cool air on my prick, which I realized was hard as a rock.
Wait a minute.
COOL air on my prick?
My PJs had a hole in the front, with no buttons, like boxers do, and all our wiggling had gotten my little man through that hole and when my eyes announced to my brain "PUSSY!" and then "TITS!" my brain ordered "HARDON NOW!"
Meanwhile Jill was looking down at what I was holding onto like a drowning sailor holds onto a life preserver and she saw what I had been staring at, namely, her naked pussy.
She made a kind of gurgling noise. It wasn't words, really, and her hands went from tickling to pressing on my chest as she flexed her knees and tried to get off of me.
I, on the other hand, knew that if she DID get off me, my rampant boner would be exposed for all the world to see. Well, for Jill to see anyway, and I had no doubt whatsoever that she would NOT appreciate that.
So I let go of her boobs and grabbed her wrists and tried to keep her from getting off.
THAT's how important I thought it was. I actually let go of real breasts!
All that did was let her scoot her butt back and, since it was raised at the time, it managed to clear my prick, which was leaning drunkenly, like it was looking at my face. I knew it had been looking at her pussy too, or trying to, but her butt cheeks were in the way.
Now, old faithful had a clear view of her pussy. I actually expected it to stand up, like a little kid trying to reach candy on a counter top that's just a little too far up to reach.
But it didn't. Instead it drooled a little bit, like an old man sitting in a rocking chair on the porch while a flock of cheerleaders prances by.
End of slow motion. The world sped back up.
Jill, unable to get loose, sat back down.
I think she could feel that there was something there, because she looked down and there, as if by magic, it looked like she had a prick. The head and maybe an inch stuck out through her fluffy red pubes.
OK, slow motion again. I know this is distracting as you read this, but it helps me think about what happened then.
About ten emotions flitted across her face. She frowned, and then her eyebrows went up and her forehead wrinkled, and her mouth fell open and her eyes darted to mine which, oddly enough were on hers, and then she made a kind of grimace with her mouth and her face smoothed out and ... she licked her lips.
I swear it's true. She licked her lips.
Now maybe that seems like a little thing to you. People probably lick their lips a thousand times a day. But you see, while she was licking her lips she was NOT screaming at me, which I expected to happen any second. I mean she knew that wasn't HER prick sitting there all snuggled up against those puffy pussy lips.
I was paralyzed. I knew my life was over. Maybe that's why, with just a little flick of her wrists she was able to get them loose. She put her hands back on my chest and I could feel them pushing, but what she did was scoot back a little more until her butt firmly encountered my balls, which were, as you might remember, at full capacity from not being emptied that morning. She stared at the couple more inches of my penis that were uncovered and she sort of relaxed.
That's the only way I can describe it. We had both been all tense and fighting and all that and now she just sat, leaning on my chest.
Then I felt her hands dig into my chest and she pulled, sliding her pussy along my prick until the head just vanished into her reddish hair.
I felt the head of my prick suddenly enveloped by heat, which lasted just long enough to freeze my brain and, as she scooted back down toward my feet I saw that those tightly closed pussy lips weren't tightly closed any more. Instead they were riding my prick like a saddle fits on a horse. The thought that that heat I had felt might be her pussy mouth just electrified me and I went rigid all over.
I swear it felt like it took ten minutes for her to move those three inches, back and forth. That's why I had to put it into slow motion again.
Anyway, things went back to normal motion again and she started sliding back and forth, her breath coming faster and faster. She licked her lips again and, for some reason, looked up at the ceiling. I couldn't look at anything. What I was feeling was the most fabulous, most amazing, most mind boggling thing I had ever felt.
She looked back down and she had her teeth closed real tight, and her mouth stretched like she was smiling on purpose, you know that fake smile Miss America uses all the time, and she made a high pitched keening sound as she ground down against me.
Well, fifteen I may have been, but I had a pretty good idea that she was having an orgasm and I had dreamed of a girl having an orgasm around my prick at least a thousand times. That was what usually set me off while I was flailing away at my little buddy.
It was no different this time.
My balls gave a jump and a stream of spunk shot out of my cock. She happened to be in the back position at the time, and the stream was unobstructed. It hit me right on my solar plexus and then pooled down onto my stomach, which had sucked in so far my backbone was probably visible.
She heard me hiss and looked down just as she slid back forward and another rope of stuff blasted out. That one was NOT unobstructed. Her pussy got in the way, sinking down to half cover the head of my dick as it spat and getting her pretty pussy mouth all spermy.
She gasped and I thought her fingernails would tear out my pecks. She got all wild, rubbing this way and that, pushing her pussy all over the puddle of sperm on my stomach as my prick kept squirting. Then she lifted back up and settled down on top of my prick again, rubbing there.
All that ... from the time we hit the bed, to right here in the story, probably only took three minutes. It felt like hours, and I didn't want it to quit, but the sound of Mom opening the back door and coming into the kitchen pierced into our brains like a bullet.
Now she scrambled off of me and fled like dogs were chasing her.
I looked down at my prick, which was going soft fast, and at the mess my sister had left on my stomach, and simply got up and dashed to the bathroom. I went in the shower with my PJs still on and turned on the water.
It was freezing.
I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I just danced around, trying to wipe myself clean before Mom came in and saw all that white stuff streaked all over me.
She didn't, though, and eventually the water warmed up and I took off my PJs and washed them out and wrung them as dry as I could. I figured I could hang them on my desk chair or something to let them dry. Then I dashed for my room.
I could hear my mother's footsteps as she trotted up the stairs from the kitchen. "Jill?... Bobby?..." She called out. "Come help me, I've got groceries in the car that need to be put away..."
I heard Jill's door open as I pulled a T-shirt over my head, realizing that my hair was still slightly wet, both from my shower as well as my own perspiration.
"Cuuuuming" I heard my sister sing out.
I mean it sounded like that. You guys out there will know what I'm talking about next.
I felt one of those explosive laughs burst out of me, like when you want to cry during a movie, but you can't because you don't want anybody to see you do that. It happens during sad movies to me sometimes, like when the dog dies or something. You hold it all in until it just won't STAY in and then when you feel it getting ready to break out you turn it into a laugh somehow. It doesn't even sound like you're laughing and it's easy for it to turn into a sobbing jag.
Girls just go ahead and sob and cry and probably have no idea what I'm talking about.
Anyway, I heard her meet our mother in the hall and I couldn't go out there because I knew I'd lose it.
"I thought you were just going to get cleaning supplies." said Jill, her voice sounding completely, unbelievably normal. There was no trace of the fact that only moments before, her pussy had been messy with her own brother's spooge. Come to think of it, it might STILL be all spooged up, seeing as how I was in the shower, which meant she wasn't.
"Well, you know. I was there, and we needed some things ..." said Mom.
Mom's voice was normal too. Normal like Jill's. For some reason I had this sudden image of my mother sitting on some guy doing what Jill had just done instead of being at the store like she said. The guy didn't have a face in my mental image, but it wasn't my father, because he was at work. Funny how the mind works. My mother, in this little flash of mental vision, had Jill's body, but it was definitely my mother. It was like you couldn't trust anybody's normal voice.
I know that sounds stupid to you, but think about it ... what would my mom have probably said if somebody walked up to her right then and said "Guess what your son and daughter were just doing ..." She wouldn't have believed it ... not right then anyway. One look at me and she'd know it was true, but she'd never just ... believe it ... not right off like that.
And if somebody came up to me and said "Hey, I just saw your mother naked riding this guy on a park bench over on third street." I wouldn't have believed that for a second either. But WE had ... so couldn't she?
So the idea that SHE might have been doing something like that while WE were doing something like that didn't seem so crazy to my ... well stressed out mind.
I took a deep breath and blew it out. This was crazy. I did it again and felt a little more calm.
My mom's voice went on. "Go ahead and get started, I'm just going to put these in the bathroom and then I'll be down to help." My mother said. "Where's Bobby...?" She asked, walking down the hall toward her bedroom, which was across the hall from ours. I opened my door to find her standing right in front of me, holding a shopping bag in her arms.
"Oh my? Bobby... what happened to you?" She asked in surprise, and I felt her eyes staring at me as she stood in front of me in the hallway. "Are you okay?"
Leave it to a mother to know something even though there are no visible clues and all the evidence has been washed down the drain.
And what do you say when the woman standing in front of you knows you inside out, has caught you every time you told even a tiny white lie, and can read you like a book?
And leave it to the sister involved, who always got away with everything she ever tried to get away with, and who could lie straight-faced to BOTH parents and never get a raised eyebrow ... to save me.
Jill popped her head around the corner. "He's all bent out of shape because I beat him in a game a little while ago. I think he's one of those macho types who can't take it when a girl gets ... the BEST of him." She giggled.
I'm telling you she was shameless. She put that emphasis on "best" and I knew exactly what she was talking about. I swear she was enjoying watching me squirm as I stood in front of my mother.
"A game...?" My mother asked, "... what kind of game?" She turned to Jill, who was still grinning, almost gloating as she stood with her hands an her hips and her foot cocked out in triumph.
"One on One." Jill said. She saw me looking at her and grinned wider.
"Basketball?" asked my mother, her mouth open. "You actually beat him at basketball?"
"I'm telling you," said my sister, "I handled the ball MUCH better than he did." She giggled again. "I wanted to play him at STICK ball, but he was too chicken."
"Stickball?" asked my mother. "You can't play stickball with just two people."
"You can too." said Jill, like she was having a serious conversation instead of what she was really doing ... torturing me. "It's HARD, and you get all out of breath ... but you can play. Of course you have to have a good STICK and a good BALL. Maybe that's why he wouldn't play. He probably doesn't have either."
My mother wasn't stupid. She could tell by the emphasis on words that Jill was doing something. And since I was the only other person around she jumped to exactly the right conclusion.
"Don't tease your brother, dear." she said, heading on down the hall. Boys are sensitive about things like that. Be nice."
"He sure is sensitive ... I'll admit that." said Jill grinning. "But don't worry Mom," she went on, "if Bobby plays his card's right, I might just give him another shot at it."
She had to turn around and run back to the kitchen to keep from laughing out loud.
I wondered about that all afternoon. What had happened was so wild and unexpected that I didn't know what to think about it. Jill acted like nothing at all had happened, except to tease me about it. I had fantasized about what she did on dates with the guys she went out with and, as I pounded my meat I dreamed that guys were fucking her and blowing their wads in her pussy. But I didn't really have any evidence that any of that had happened.
I even tried to talk to her about it, but every time she looked around and said "Not now squirt." Then she said "Squirt" again and laughed.
I got pissed then. She was making fun of me and I didn't like that at all. Later that night, at dinner, I wouldn't talk to her. My dad noticed.
"What's got you all riled up?" he asked conversationally.
"Nothing." I said sullenly.
My mom, not knowing she had no clue, filled him in. "Jill beat him at a game of basketball today and he's all upset about it.
"I am NOT." I objected.
"Look, son," said my father, going into lecture mode. "Don't ever think that just because you're a guy, that women can't compete with you, or that just because you have a gift with the ball, that someone else won't be able to take you down. You always have to go the distance, or you'll never score when scoring is important.
Jill didn't help anything by snickering. She thought the whole thing was a big joke and Dad's choice of words didn't help a bit.
But she straightened up for the rest of dinner and then ignored me the rest of the evening, like I didn't exist.
Which is why I was pretty dumbfounded when she slipped into my room later that night.
Mom had turned off the TV, which was her announcement that it was time for bed. Dad was snoring in the chair and she rousted him out while Jill and I got up and went to our rooms. By the time I'd changed for bed and found my place in my book, I knew that both Mom and Dad would be snoring by now. I was reading about one of my favorite heroes, a guy named Dirk Pitt, who was everything I ever wanted to be.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"I want to play one on one again." she said smiling.
"You're crazy." I said.
"Come on ... you liked it ... that was obvious." she grinned.
"You're only making fun of me." I said, not impressed.
"I had to you idiot." she said, standing there in the same T shirt she had been wearing earlier. I couldn't help but wonder if she had on panties under it this time. "Mom would have known something was ... UP ..." she giggled.
"I'm your brother." I pointed out unnecessarily.
"I know that." she said.
"Brothers and sisters aren't supposed to do that stuff." I said.
"You liked it." she insisted. "And so did I."
Now THAT was a revelation. I was still convinced, for some reason, that she was playing with me ... and I don't mean playing with me like you think. If I would have thought about it a little I'd have realized there was no way she'd come to my room in the middle of the night just to tease me.
"So go play one on one with one of your boyfriends." I said.
"No way, Ho-sea" she rhymed.
"Come on, I know you've done it before." I said.
"Nope." she announced firmly. "Not ever. Yours is the only one to ever touch me ... there."
I was astounded. All those fantasies I had spurted to were ... fantasies.
"Really?" I wasn't completely convinced, even though she sounded like she was telling the truth. Remember, she could lie with a straight face better than anybody I knew.
"What about all those guys you go out with?" I asked. "Don't they ever want to ...?"
She tossed her head and her hair flipped in a way that made my gut tight.
"Of course they try," she dragged out the last word, sounding AND looking somehow innocent, like a little girl. "But I don't let them do anything." she finished. "I do a few things for THEM, and then they're all happy."
"Not even your ... boobs?" I was incredulous.
"They're breasts, little brother ... not boobs." she said, sounding like my Aunt Virginia. "And yes, I let them do things there sometimes." she said. "But that's different." she added primly.
I wanted to believe her, but I was still a little wary.
"So ... why would you let ME touch you ... down there ... if you won't let THEM touch you?" I asked. It seemed like a logical question to me.
"Because I can TRUST you, you idiot." she said. Her words were harsh, but her tone of voice wasn't that way at all. She almost sounded tender about it somehow.
"Oh." I said. It was one of the nicest things she'd ever said to me, even with the idiot part thrown in there.
It was quiet for what seemed like a long time and I finally said. "OK, so what do you want me to do?"
She smiled, and my heart started thudding in my chest, just like that. I could feel it pounding.
"Just like before." she said, stepping towards me. "All you have to do is lie there. I'll tell you what to do."
Then she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.
Remember that slow motion stuff? Imagine, in ultra slow motion, as first her thighs, and then her pussy, with fluffy soft hair are exposed. Then her flat belly, and her belly button. Then there was the swell of flesh at the bottom of her breasts ... followed by more swelling flesh ... until two bright pink nipples are exposed. At this point she's faceless, kind of like that statue of Venus De whoever, except instead of no arms, she has no head. There's nothing visible in the whole room except her body, pale and soft looking in the light of my reading lamp.
Then her head and face came into view and she sort of tossed the shirt, like it was something she didn't want to touch and she stood there. She was so beautiful I couldn't breathe. She had a tiny little frown on her face that crinkled her forehead just a little. Something I had never seen came into her eyes. Her body got stiff somehow and her arms hung at an odd angle. She looked ... tense.
"Well?" she whispered.
I was in a hazy world, where my sister stood naked before me, asking some kind of question which I wasn't at all sure I knew how to answer.
Then, understanding hit me like a brick. My sister ... my BIG sister ... my supremely confident, all knowing, Queen of the High School sister ... didn't know whether she looked good naked or not.
I had the opportunity of a lifetime. I could have said "Gee, is that all there is?" or maybe "Whoa, sis, don't be doing that for any guys you really like." or even "Well, it's hard to get into modeling anyway, even if you DO have a pretty face." All the cuts she'd thrown at me, all the bossing around she'd done, all the times I'd wanted to choke the life out of her ... all of those could have been answered right then and there.
But you know what? None of those things even flitted through my mind. I was in love. She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, Playboy included. Right then and there I'd have rather looked at her like that than any movie star, or cheerleader or anybody.
I had to swallow before I could say anything.
"You're beautiful." I said.
Go figure. I could have waxed poetic. I could have been articulate and suave. I could have said something clever that would make her love me like I loved her at that moment. And all I could come up with was something just a bare step higher than "Hey babe, you're pretty good looking."
It was a night (day too) for astonishment.
The way she reacted to those two little simple words was astounding. If you've ever seen that movie called "True Lies", where Jamie Lee Curtis goes to this hotel room and a guy (her husband, but she doesn't know that) tells her to dance. She's the most amazing actress in that scene because she's all awkward at first, and her arms and legs don't work right, but suddenly she gets into it and then dances in the most sexy way imaginable. My sister looked just like that. First she relaxed and her awkward stance vanished. She got this smile on her face that just made me want to squirt right then and there. And then she rushed to the bed and leaned over and kissed me right on the lips.
Man, her lips were warm and soft. She was moving her head around as she kissed me. I was so surprised that my eyes were still open, but I could see hers were closed. Everybody knows that means a girl really means it when she kisses you with her eyes closed. Ricky Thompson told me that last year and he's the smartest guy I know.
She was sucking somehow and when she pulled away from me my lips stuck to hers for a second.
"Thank you." she breathed in my face.
"No problem." spouted out of my mouth.
It was a habit. I always say that when somebody says "Thank you." But it sure sounded stupid right then.
Jill didn't seem to notice though. She grabbed the sheet, which was at my waist, and whipped it back to reveal me in my briefs. My PJs were still a little damp, hanging on my desk chair, so I just wore my underwear to bed.
But briefs kind of do a really good job of showing off what you have, you know? And what I had was already pretty excited. It had started getting excited when she took her shirt off, and that kiss sort of finished the project. I was hard as a rock and the lump even looked huge to me. I glanced at her and she was staring at it.
"Take them off." she said softly.
Well, duh. Why hadn't I already thought of that. I wiggled them down, unleashing the donkey dick. Unlike her, I wasn't worried about whether she thought it was pretty or not. I just wanted something to happen to it.
"Wow." she said. It wasn't an excited kind of wow ... more of a "I don't know what to think." kind of wow.
"Wow?" I responded. Now I was a little concerned.
"It's bigger than I thought." she said.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You just saw it this morning."
"Not really." she said, her eyes never leaving my prick. "Everything happened so fast I never really got a chance to look at it."
No slow motion for her, I guess.
"I guess it is a little bigger than usual." I admitted. I had suffered in gym class for two years. I had an unofficial nickname - "Hoser" - which was awarded to me by a popular guy who liked me. His nickname for me replaced "Donkey Dick". Most of they guys didn't hassle me much any more. I guess they were all used to it. My sister wasn't, and I was afraid she was going to turn around and leave.
"Are you kidding me?" she asked, finally looking at my face. "That thing's fucking HUGE."
I had never heard her use a single bad word in my whole life. Oh, she said "crap" and "bull" and maybe "damn", you know ... all those sort of half way curse words that old people frown at ... but I'd never heard her use the F word.
"It's not like I'm deformed or anything." I said, slightly injured. Here I had called her beautiful and she was saying I was some kind of monster.
She looked back at my dick, and then back at my face.
"I jerked off Danny Trimble after Prom. I could get my hand all the way around his with no problem." she said. Danny was a senior and thought he was the cock of the walk. He was the captain of the football team and could bench press twice his body weight. He was a jerk, though, and I had never fantasized about him doing anything to Jill. I didn't want to think about it now either.
"I'm not that much bigger." I said. I had always been a little worried about being some kind of freak. It's not something you can ask the school counselor about, or your Mom. I'd seen Dad nude before, and If I had to show him mine it would make him feel bad. I don't know whose genes I got, but it wasn't his.
For answer she reached out and put her hand around my dick. It was leaning over again, kind of pointing up at my face like it always did when it was nice and hard, and she stood it up. All I could see was the back of her hand because she grabbed it with her right hand. It felt wonderful.
"Oh my gosh!" she said.
That word, on paper, just doesn't communicate the anguish I felt. She sounded worried, like she'd just found a half a worm in an apple she'd taken a bite out of.
"LOOK!" she said, still holding on. I lifted my head, straining my neck.
"What?" I asked again, this time not quite so anxiously. "I can't see anything."
Then she changed hands. Her first finger and her thumb were an inch apart, and she was squeezing my cock hard.
"It's a fucking monster." she breathed.
I reached down and gripped it underneath where her hand was. My forefinger and thumb touched. I was really worried now that she was going to call the whole second half off, and I was trying like crazy to convince her I was normal.
"See? You're hand's just small. There's nothing wrong with it." I complained.
"You dork!" she said, without heat. "You can hold a basketball with one hand on top of it. LOOK, your hand AND my hand don't cover the whole thing."
She was referring to the fact that her hand covered some of it, and my hand covered some of it, but there was a little at the bottom and a couple of inches at the top that were still visible.
"Oh." I said. She always knew how to take the wind out of my sails, even when she wasn't trying.
"I can't help it." I said, for lack of anything else to say. I was so upset that I started to get soft. "What's the big deal anyway?" I whined.
"What's the big deal?" she asked, looking at my face. "That's supposed to go inside a girl. THAT's the big deal. That thing would kill a girl. It would massacre a girl. It would tear her in HALF!"
"OK, OK, I get the idea." I moaned. "So what you're saying is I'll never have sex."
"No WAY, Ho-sea" she rhymed again. "Why is it getting soft?"
She was a girl. She had that talent of changing the subject in less time than it takes a guy to keep up.
"You call it a freak of nature and you're surprised it gets unhappy?"
"I don't want it to get unhappy. Make it get hard again." she ordered.
"I can't just make it get hard." I said in disbelief.
"I bet I can." she said.
She started stroking it and playing with it. It was about the consistency of a hot dog that's half cooked, you know where you can bend it a lot and it won't break, but it's still kind of firm?
She was right. She'd been bending over all this time, and her arm covered her breasts. But now she was using her left hand and I could see them again. I mean a naked girl was jacking me off. What guy could resist that, even if she DID call him a freak?
Well, she got it hard again and when it was standing tall she stopped. She looked at me and kind of frowned.
"I've only done this once, so I'm probably not very good at it, but if you make fun of me I'll never do it again ... ever."
She didn't wait for me to say I understood. Instead she bent down again and put her mouth over the head of my prick.
Ohhh Mother McGillicuty, did that feel good. My heart started thudding in my chest again, and I couldn't catch my breath, and the muscles in my back kind of twanged and my hips came up off the bed.
She choked on it about then, and when she pulled off coughing I thought she'd kill me. But all she did was say "Stay still." and went right back to sucking my knob.
I don't really have the words to describe it. I had jerked off plenty, and that felt good. And she had rubbed along it with her pussy and THAT felt even better. But this ... this was the stuff dreams are made of. Her mouth was hot, and slick and I could feel her teeth and her tongue and her cheeks all at the same time.
"Stop!" I ordered weakly, pushing at her head.
She pulled off. "What? Am I doing it wrong?" She was frowning.
"No" I gasped. "You're doing it perfectly. But I don't want you mad at me and in a second you're going to be pissed as hell."
"Already?" she beamed. "You're gonna shoot already?" It was like someone had told her she'd just won American Idol or something.
She looked at me critically.
"I've never tasted it before." she said, like it was some foreign food she'd just heard of and been offered. "Mandy Phillips says it tastes nasty."
"That's why I told you to stop." I said, my breathing a little more normal.
"Mandy Phillips is an idiot." she said. "She doesn't even like Peanut Butter, banana and Mayonnaise sandwiches."
Neither did anybody else who was normal, which my sister obviously wasn't, since that was her favorite ... food. Her head dipped toward my prick, which she was still holding like it was a stick shift and she was in a race for pink slips. She was stroking the gear shift and shifting from first to third and then back to first and then second, if you know what I mean.
She was quiet for a few seconds and I could almost hear the gears in her head whirling.
"I donít' know what to do." she said, to herself I think. Then she looked up at me and proved I was wrong by continuing to talk to me. "I want to rub on it, like before. But I want to see how far it shoots too. And I think I want to taste it ... you know?"
I was flabbergasted. All three sounded wonderful to me, and I was close to making her second choice come true just then. "I ... uh ... well ... I'm gonna ... Uhhhh ... Auuuggghhhhh."
Her hand had solved the problem for us. My hips went up and I bit my cheek and spunk shot up in the air two and a half feet. It kind of hung there for a split second and then the line leaned and started back down. She was like a cobra or something. I saw her eyes go wide as she lifted them, and then lowered them again, watching the stream of semen she had just produced, like an artesian well. About the time that line splatted onto my chest her head dove and her mouth opened and she caught number two, or maybe it was number three by then, I don't really know, but she caught it in her mouth as she sealed her lips over the crown. I know she got another shot in her mouth, and about then she popped back up, like a jack in the box.
She let go of my dick, which lay down on my stomach and fired another round toward my chin. Her hands were up by her shoulders and she was kind of fanning her face, sort of, jumping around and making these strange noises with her mouth closed and her eyes bulging, and it was obvious that she wished she hadn't done what she'd just done. Her head swiveled both ways, and it was clear that she was looking for a place to spit. I half expected her to spew all over me.
But she suddenly stopped, frozen like - her hands too, just hanging there in the air. She dragged in a noisy breath through her nose and then opened her mouth.
I'd like to say it looked cool. Her mouth was brimming with thick white strings of stuff that stretched from bottom to top and looked a little like spider webs. About then I expected her not just to spew, but to hurl, and the thought of puke all over the place made me tense and half sit up.
But she closed her mouth and dropped her hands and, in the kind of silence where you really CAN hear a pin drop ... I heard her swallow. She looked kind of startled, and then she swallowed again and this time, when her lips parted there was nothing there.
"That wasn't so bad." she said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She still looked surprised. "In fact, that wasn't bad at all."
She looked at me, standing there gorgeous and naked, with her hands hanging straight down.
"It was warm." she commented. "And it tastes ... I don't know how to describe it, but it's not bad. "It's all slippery and it feels funny on my teeth." she added.
Well, to say I was relieved is the understatement of the year. I had a fleeting thought that maybe Peanut Butter, banana and mayo sandwiches had ruined her taste buds or something, because there was no WAY any of that stuff was ever going to get in MY mouth.
She proved me wrong by unfreezing and leaning over to kiss me again. I think I had the same initial reaction she did. My stomach heaved once, but I hadn't actually tasted anything yet. But it wasn't so bad. I mean it wasn't sloshing around in my mouth or anything ... it was just a hint of musky something on her lips, but she was right. It wasn't so bad. I think I was more surprised than she was.
"Thank y..." she started to say, but just then we heard the unmistakable sound of somebody - Dad probably - getting up to go to the bathroom. He hadn't checked on us since we were little, but we were terrified anyway. Jill jumped back against the wall and cowered there while I tore at the sheet to get it over me, just in case.
He didn't check on me, of course. But the mood was broken and I had shot my wad all over the place anyway, and as soon as it was quiet again she slipped out without saying another word.
The next morning she was surly at breakfast. It was something we had all seen before, of course. When you have a teenaged girl in the house there are moods floating around, hovering in corners, just waiting to swoop down and drown you in drama. Some of them are good moods, but most aren't. This one wasn't.
"What's wrong with you?" asked our mother.
"Nothing." Jill said shortly.
I was relieved that she didn't look at me.
"You stayed up too late again, didn't you?" suggested Mom. "I've told you growing bodies need lots of rest."
Jill held up her hand, palm out, but didn't say anything. My mother looked hurt, but subsided.
Dad, of course, being a man, didn't know when to let things rest.
"Well, I know what will get it out of you, whatever it is. The garage needs cleaning out. You and Bobby can do that together." His voice had that "This isn't a suggestion" tone in it. He didn't put up with crap, which was one reason there were so many abandoned moods lurking in corners, waiting to ambush the unaware passerby.
"Fine!" snarled Jill, which was a little unusual. I mean usually she argues.
It had to be me she was pissed off at. I mean I was the one who shot her mouth full of spooge the night before, right? She probably had the mother of all stomach aches or something. I mean it can't possibly be healthy to swallow what comes out of a man's dick, right?
So I was prepared to face her wrath when, an hour later, I went to the garage. I figured she'd lollygag around and delay the inevitable, and thought that maybe I might even be able to get the garage cleaned out before she even showed up. Not that I planned to complain about her not being there or anything. But the "run away" plan sometimes works exceedingly well.
Imagine MY surprise to find her already there, moving boxes around. She looked up at me with this really funny look on her face.
"You OK?" I asked. Don't ask me why I opened my mouth.
"No." she said shortly, but with no real heat.
"Oh." I said. "I'm sorry." That's part of the "run away" plan. Say you're sorry and it might defuse the bomb. Sometimes it doesn't work, but you sort of have to try.
She stood up and walked over to me, looking over my shoulder at the door that went from the garage to the kitchen. Then she pulled me around a shelving unit so we couldn't see that door any more.
"I'm horny." she said. "I didn't get off last night and I couldn't sleep and I tried to do it myself, but it didn't work and I want you to fix it." Her hands were gripping my T shirt and I knew that when she let go there would be wrinkles in the shape of her hands in the fabric where she was stretching it.
"Now?" I asked incredulously.
"Now!" she commanded. She let go of my shirt and put her arms around me and kissed me hard to punctuate her command.
What do you do in a situation like that? Dad was gone to work, but Mom was in the house. It wasn't likely she'd come out to the garage. She avoided that as much as possible, saying that she couldn't walk through the place and stay clean. She kept her car outside in the driveway, in fact. Part of that was because one bay of the garage was full of Dad's project car, a 1967 Pontiac GTO he was "rebuilding". but he'd have let her park her car in the other side if she'd have wanted to. She didn't, so he put his car in there. Mom really had no reason to come out there.
But, when your sister is hanging all over you in the garage, you expect anything could happen and I was nervous.
"Here?" I managed to say when she pulled her lips off mine.
"Right now Bobby. I need you." she gasped.
She was really worked up and, in other circumstances, I might have felt pretty proud of myself. What I felt was nervous.
"How?" I asked.
It wasn't all that stupid a question, at least in my opinion, and, truth be told, it was all I could think of to say.
For answer she looked around and her eyes lit on Dad's GTO. She grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the passenger side and opened the door. Dad had worked on the interior first, I guess because that was what he knew how to do best. It had rolled and pleated naugahyde seat covers in it that were dark blue with white piping. Before my startled eyes, Jill skinned her terrycloth shorts down and stepped out of one leg.
She wasn't wearing panties.
She sat her naked butt down on Dad's prize seat covers and spread her legs, exposing her pussy to me like she'd done it a thousand times.
"Rub me." she moaned.
Not knowing what else to do I reached my hand toward her. She batted it away.
"With your dick." she ordered.
I looked up, over the roof of the car. The door to the kitchen was right there, fifteen feet away.
I felt her hands at my zipper and looked down to see her undoing my belt with one hand and trying to pull my zipper down with the other. It would have been funny except that I was terrified.
I learned something that day. I learned that terror doesn't necessarily mean your dick won't get hard. I thought there was no way in the world that anything could happen, because I kept looking at that door. But once she got my jeans down around my hips, which wasn't easy because I wasn't helping, and once she latched onto my prick with both hands, pulling and stretching, nature took over. It turned out nature wasn't terrified.
"Come ON, Bobby!" she hissed, pulling my prod toward her pussy.
Well, when a girl has your dick firmly in hand, so to speak, and pulls hard enough, you sort of have to let her do with it what she wants to. You could call it self defense of a sort. She leaned back and I bent over and leaned forward. I put one hand on the seat back, and the other on the seat beside her, and let her pull the head of my dick to her pussy mouth.
It was just natural, when I felt the tip of my cock dip into that soft, slick skin, that I pushed a little.
"Don't put it IN me." she hissed.
One of her wrists went around my neck and she held her upper body up off the seat, which strained my back something terrible until I took all the weight on my arms. Then she commenced to use my prick like it was a dildo or something. She rubbed it up and down between her pussy lips, and then used the tip to diddle her clit. I could see her nipples through the tank top she was wearing. I had thought about those nipples a lot, over the years, and I decided now was the time to try what I'd wanted to do for a long time. I took the hand off the seat and pulled her tank top up, uncovering one breast. Then I leaned down and sucked the hard nipple into my mouth.
The reason it was a bad idea, as it turned out, was because when I sucked in that nipple she kind of spazzed out, let go of my neck and lay back on the seat. And it was a bad idea because I really liked sucking that nipple, and didn't want to stop, so I leaned forward when she went down. And it was a bad idea because she couldn't reach my dick any more and had to let go, at just the time she had plugged the tip of my dick squarely into her pussy mouth. I guess the bottom line was that it was a bad idea because, as I leaned forward, my dick did too.
An inch doesnít' seem like it's all that much, you know? I mean it's just a tiny little bit. And that's all that went in her was an inch. Well, maybe a little more than that, since the whole head popped in there, but it was only a little bit ... you know?
She gave this strangled little yelp. She told me later that what my mouth was doing to her nipple felt so fabulous that she was just sure she was going to cum, and then there was this terrible stretching-pain-tearing sensation as her hymen, which had been firmly and valiantly guarding her virginity, sort of ceased to be.
For me, it was a little like when it had been in her mouth, except that for the split second I felt it I was also completely aware of what had happened, and didn't take the time to enjoy it. I pushed off the seat, whacked my head on the edge of the door opening, and heard a distinct "Pop" as my dick was jerked out of her pussy.
She actually took it rather well, when you think about it. She was caught in the middle of an agonized squeal when the pain disappeared. I'm sure there was some kind of aftermath, but, compared to what she'd BEEN feeling down there, it was nothing.
Suffice it to say she wasn't horny any more. She looked at me with this kind of hurt puppy look in her eyes, which were wet, but what was making them wet had stopped, so she didn't actually cry. She sat up and pushed at me, making me step backward, and then bent over and pulled her shorts back on and up as she stood up. Then she pulled her shirt back down as I fumbled with my own pants.
"Sorry." I tried.
She opened her mouth to say something - I don't know what - and damned if Mom didn't open that door and come into the garage with a tray and two glasses filled with ice cubes and a pitcher of lemonade.
"I thought you two might like some refreshments." she announced, looking around for us. When her eyes finally found us we were standing in the open door of the Pontiac.
"Don't play around in that car." she said sternly. "You know your father thinks the world of that stupid thing."
"We were just looking." said Jill, sounding completely normal. I was about as astonished as it was possible to be because I knew I couldn't have said a single word if it would have saved my life. "When do you think he'll start on the outside?" asked Jill.
"Who knows." groused our mother. "It took him five years to get the inside done. Now, where do you want me to put this?" she asked.
Jill started moving, and closed the door of the car, leaving me standing there like a bump on a log. She cleared some space on the work bench and took the tray, thanking Mom like nothing had happened at all. Mom, oblivious, nattered on for a little bit, and then looked around and shook her head.
"Just get rid of what you know is trash." she said. "Don't throw anything away that might be useful." Then she laughed. "Or throw it all out. As far as I can tell, NONE of it is useful."
Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.
Jill poured a glass of lemonade and took a drink. She set it down and then looked at me.
"This isn't over yet, buster." she said.
"I said I was sorry." I whined.
"Shut up. We have work to do." she said. She looked down at herself. "But first, go to my room and get me another pair of shorts. They're in the bottom right hand drawer. And don't let Mom see you."
I must have looked confused, because she turned around. The front of her powder blue shorts, right where I knew they pressed up against naked pussy lips, had a small reddish stain on them. She was bleeding.
How she noticed that, and acted completely normal with our mother standing there chatting, and KEPT our mother from noticing it ... well, I'll just never understand that.
Anyway, terror reigned for ten minutes as, on autopilot, I went to her room, got another pair of shorts and then went back to the garage with them inside a box I found in my own room. I went to inordinate lengths to avoid Mom. As I sneaked through the kitchen I noticed movement through the window. Mom was outside hanging up towels to dry in the sun. She claimed they smelled better and soaked up water better if you did that. I had snuck around for nothing.
Not that I felt any better when I got back to the garage. Jill was picking up things and putting them in a box she had designated as trash.
"Are you OK?" I gasped, weirded out by seeing her doing something so normal.
"Please don't tell me you called 911." she said, looking at me with a frown.
"You're BLEEDING!" I rasped.
"It's already stopped." she said, like it was a paper cut or something. "It's normal for a woman to bleed the first time." Her sanguine attitude just destroyed me, I'm telling you.
I was still holding the box, which had some magazines in it on top of her new shorts. She was smart enough to figure that out and pulled out the shorts. Then, like it was nothing, she skinned out of the old ones, standing bottomless in front of me, and stepped into the new ones and pulled them up. It was such a normal thing to do, after what had happened ... except it wasn't normal at ALL to do it in front of your brother ... except that, considering what had happened in the Pontiac, which was even MORE not normal ...
I just stood there holding the box.
Jill, on the other hand, was thinking. She picked up her old shorts and went back to the GTO and opened the door and wiped on the seat covers with the shorts. Then she went to the trash can that we use for regular garbage, opened it up, took out the top bag and pulled out the one that had been under it. She untied it, and stuffed the old shorts down inside of it before re-tying the bag closed. It went back in the bottom of the can, with the other one on top of it. Once everything looked normal, with the possible exception that she wasn't wearing the same clothes she went into the garage in, she looked at me. With a completely straight face she said:
"Are you going to stand there all day, or help me clean the garage?"
I'd like to say things were strained for the next three hours ... between Jill and me, as we cleaned the garage. I had popped my sister's cherry good and proper, which was something I was SURE she'd be all pissed off about. I didn't think she'd see the irony in the fact that if I hadn't popped her cherry, we'd have gotten caught by Mom. AND, when you consider that she was so hot and bothered to get her goodies ... and then didn't ... well, I think I was justified in assuming that terrible things would happen to me.
But all she did was talk.
She started off talking about the stuff we were moving around.
"What's this?" she'd ask.
Usually I knew what it was. Dad had a lot of woodworking stuff, and auto mechanic stuff. He had all these hobbies that he got into and then let lay, and each of them left some group of stuff behind. Like there was this one thing that was a plastic box that had a little spindle sticking up out of it. There was a rim around the top about half an inch high, and it had an electric cord on it.
"What the heck is this?" asked Jill.
"That's for stained glass." I said. I was still nervous and might have babbled a little bit. "It's got a diamond head on it - that little round thing there - and it spins and you can grind the edges of the glass to whatever shape you want. You have to put water in it, as a lubricant for the glass." I'd seen Dad using it one time, while he was making a Tiffany lamp shade.
"How the heck do you know all this stuff?" she asked me, holding the thing like it might bite her.
"I dunno." I responded. "I saw him use it once."
"You're not nearly as stupid as I thought you were." said my sister conversationally. "Where should we put it?"
I ignored the barb, mostly because I wasn't looking for trouble of ANY sort just then.
"His stained glass stuff is over in that cabinet, mostly." I said, pointing.
She went over there and opened it up and started going through all sorts of stuff in there, saying "What's this?" about every thirty seconds. Some of it was easy. Some I just read the labels on and figured out. Some of it I didn't know, and I made something up. I mean she wouldn't know the difference, right? I REALLY wasn't looking for trouble and wanted her to stay in this remarkably good mood she was in.
Then we hit a bunch of his reloading stuff, and I explained that to her too. I had a sudden image of her wanting me to show her how to load up some bullets ... and then wanting me to show her how to load them in the gun ... and then ... revenge!
I suddenly realized she had changed the subject and was talking about a sale that was going to be on the next weekend at J.C. Penney's and how she was thinking about getting a new swimsuit.
"My old one's too small." she said. "I'm thinking about getting a bikini. Do you think I'd look OK in a bikini?"
I didn't say anything for a few seconds as I tried to figure out how we got from reloading to bikinis, and whether it was going from dangerous to more dangerous or not. I didn't say anything for too long and she looked at me.
"Uh ... sure." I said. I wasn't doing my best here.
"Did you do it on purpose?" she asked out of the blue.
I had a pretty good idea what "it" she was talking about.
"NO!" I gasped. "I swear Jill, it was an accident."
"It hurt." she said shortly. She was still looking at me. "A lot." she added, like I might not understand. Her bloody shorts had pretty well convinced me that it had hurt.
"I'm really sorry." I said, meaning it.
"I know." she said, turning back around and neatening up all the reloading stuff, putting it all in one place.
"You do?" I asked. I was confused.
"Yeah, I could see it on your face." she said, not looking at me.
I did what every red blooded male of the species should never EVER do, but inevitably does anyway.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked.
"I don't know." she said, saying what every red blooded girl of the species says sometimes when a man is SURE she really DOES know.
And then she talked about other stuff. She started asking me if I remembered things that had happened in our past. Some of them were big fights we had, and she talked about how she'd felt during them, and how mad she was at me, and twice how she'd lied (which I knew) to get me in trouble.
You might be wondering what this has to do with anything, but I'm trying to explain how she was acting, because ... well I didn't understand it ... and maybe you will. Or something.
And the other reason I'm telling you all this is because it explains why I was completely flummoxed when, about half an hour after our folks went to bed that night, while I was reading, she came into my room again.
Not only did she come into my room again, she came into my room and whipped off her night shirt and stalked over to the bed naked.
"I'm still horny." she announced in a voice that wasn't a whisper and wasn't a normal voice. "You're going to lie there like a good boy and not move." she said. "And if you move I'm going to cut your balls off." She looked grim. "Or something." she added.
She whipped the sheet off of me, exposing my PJs, and then started trying to drag them down.
I didn't move.
"Lift your hips." she said, looking at me like I was simple minded.
I decided that I could move if I had permission, so I lifted my hips. I was still holding my book.
Then she put that wonderful mouth of hers on my prick again and had me rock hard inside of a minute. All I could hear was slurping and swallowing, which sounded pretty loud to me. I have to admit that I darted my eyes toward the door a couple of times when she was extra loud. But I didn't turn my head. No Sir, that would have been moving.
She stopped sucking me and almost tenderly laid my cock down on my stomach. Or tried to. It was so hard it stayed about three inches up in the air, kind of bobbing a little, like it was nodding it's head. I stared at the slit in the tip, half expecting it to become a pair of lips and say "Donít' stop! I was having a good time. Come back!"
Then she climbed up on the bed and, looking down at my cock, she very gently let her pussy down on top of it, reaching with one hand to spread her pussy lips, one on either side of it. She settled down, putting her hands on my chest and gave out a sigh that sounded just like Elvis Presley made in an old movie he made where he got shot at the top of the hill and rolled all the way down it somehow, singing three songs along the way, until when he finally got to the bottom he expired. That was when he gave out the sigh. He must have practiced that sigh for hours, because it had all the elements of a tortured soul, finally finding relief, and letting go of this life to embrace the next one and all that stuff. I mean it was a SIGH!
I didn't think Jill had practiced it, though, and coming from her lips it sure made me feel good.
She started sliding, and I laid still. I didn't have to do anything for it to feel wonderful. She hadn't put her hair up, and it was hanging down, kind of tickling her breasts or something. She leaned forward and dropped a nipple on my nose.
"Suck them." she commanded. That's not fair, really, because her voice didn't have command in it. It was soft and, while not pleading, sounded like something other than an errant thought.
Having permission, I played with her nipples, kind of sucking and then spitting them out and licking them and I even bit one gently when it was moving so much I could barely get it in my mouth.
I was rewarded with "Ohhhh Bobby, this feels soooo nice."
Pretty good praise for a guy who was just lying there doing almost nothing, huh?
She started playing too, sliding all the way up to the head and grinding her pussy down onto it when it slipped up into her pussy mouth. She was riding her clitty on it, and she suddenly shuddered and went stiff. The noise she made was barely audible, and was a series of little "Huh .. huh .. huh" sounds as her hips started moving again, making little jerking motions. Then there was a long "Uhhhhhhhhh" as her hips kind of rotated in circles as she leaned forward and all of a sudden she lay down on my chest. Her hair got in my face and tickled so much I wanted to sneeze. I wanted to put my arms around her, but didn't, so determined was I to make sure she had everything she wanted, and nothing she didn't.
She bit my ear lobe! It hurt too!
Then she sat back up and started sliding again and whispering.
"That's what I needed this morning." she said, rocking. "But you shoved that horrible thing up in me."
"I didn't SHOVE it ..." I started to protest. "...exactly." I finished.
"You broke my cherry." she said, sliding some more. "You snatched my treasure from me like some horrible pirate." she added in a melodramatic rasp.
"I didn't want to hurt you." I said.
"I know." she sighed, sliding all the way forward and getting the knob well up in her pussy mouth. "It doesn't hurt so much now." she said, rubbing in circles again.
"Did it really hurt that bad?" I asked. "Can I touch your breasts?" I was tired of being still.
"Yes." she said, and I was left to wonder which question she was answering.
I gave myself the benefit of the doubt and put my hands on her breasts. They were amazing. I played with them, squeezing them and thumbing the nipples. They felt hard and rubbery and I pulled her down to suck them again, this time holding her sides so she couldn't move quite so much and I could get a good lip lock on them.
"Mmmmm that feels soooo goood." she purred, still rubbing.
It was quiet for a while as she rubbed. I was pretty content. I wasn't as excited as I'd been before, and didn't have the urge to cum. Well, that's not exactly true. It was like I wanted to squirt a gallon, but it was OK if I didn't. I knew that three or four strokes after she left would have me sobbing with joy, and that was OK. I really felt bad about hurting her and stealing her treasure.
"You know it did go in." she panted a little. "In the garage I mean."
What a strange thing to say. Of course it went in. It made her bleed! It was what ruined the whole event.
"It didn't kill me." she said, rubbing faster.
"I'm glad" I said, wondering what was going on.
"Maybe it wouldn't kill me if you put it in again." she huffed.
I got another brick in the head with that one. She was suggesting that I actually fuck her!
"No." I said, not ever wanting to see that look on her face again ... the one that screamed she was in pain. "It hurt, and you know it hurt. Why would you want to do that again?" I asked.
"Yes, it did hurt." she said. I could tell she was getting close to falling over the edge again, both by her voice and her movements. We had only done this twice, but I could already read her body movements. It was kind of cool. "But there was something else too." she gasped.
"What?" I asked.
"I can't describe it." she said. "It was a surprise ..." she started jerking harder. "I didn't have time to really figure it out ..." She slid forward again and got my knob up against her clitty. She started giving those little jerks again, this time without freezing first.
"Ohhhh Bobbbyyyyyy" she moaned. "I love you so much."
Seeing her having an orgasm was just the coolest thing I think I'd ever seen. I wasn't scared this time, or confused ... well not too much ... this "fuck me" thing had me pretty weirded out ... but anyway she just looked like she was having a heck of a good time and at least part of it was my doing. And right then I realized that I loved her too. It wasn't just that she was doing this with me. It was that she was having fun and was happy, and I was part of it and that was a close kind of feeling that was more than just sex.
And she meant it too. I could tell. She had her eyes closed when she said it.
And all of a sudden I felt the overpowering urge to cum myself. I didn't even have time to say anything. I just started spurting. I felt pressure, like something was closing off my prick and realized that the hole my jizz was trying to come out of was pressed against her pussy or something and it couldn't get out very well. She moved a little and there was a flood of relief as pent up semen burst out of my prick, bathing her pussy in hot spunk.
"Oooo" she squeaked, and ground harder. I wasn't fucking her, but the head of my prick was filling up her pussy mouth and as she wiggled at least some of that spunk got shot up inside her. It wasn't fucking, but it was the next best thing and I came hard.
It took a few slippery minutes, but she finally calmed down.
"You made a mess." she chided. Then she scooted down and began sucking and lapping with her tongue, licking it all up and sucking it off my prick, which was, indeed, all messy with my ejaculate. She was making "Mmmmmm" sounds and it made me want to cum again, but I couldn't.
You know how when you've had a really good meal sometimes you just want to sit there for a while when you're done? It was a little like that. And then, like after that meal, sooner or later you have to get up and go somewhere, or go do something. She was like that. She played with my prick for a while, licking it and kissing it and doing everything but talking to it, and then she bounded off the bed and picked up her night shirt.
"That was much better." she whispered, beaming at me.
She was almost out of the door when I whispered loudly "Jill."
She turned, still naked. I thought about reminding her to put on the shirt.
Instead I said. "I love you too."
The next day was completely different than the one before. Jill was all happy and easy going when she got up and we had breakfast. Mom insisted that we at least eat breakfast as a family. It was a hard and fast rule.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling better." said our mother.
"I got more sleep last night." lied Jill convincingly.
"I told you so dear." said Mom.
"I know, Mom. Don't RUB it in." said my sister. She darted her eyes towards me and I saw a flicker of a smile on her face as she teased me and dealt with mom at the same time. I swear she could beat a lie detector.
Jill spent the day over at Julie Zickafussís house and they did each otherís nails and braided each other's hair and stuff like that. I found that out when she got back home and announced that she had a date that night with John Watkins.
I was a little jealous. I had spent the day trimming bushes and mowing the lawn and reading. That gave me lots of time to think about what we'd done ... which was outrageously cool, and what Jill had said, which was eating away at me. Being a guy, part of me panted at the thought of shoving my cock in her. But I didn't want to go any further for more reasons than just hurting her. I didn't think she was on any birth control, and there was already a lot of my sperm cells wiggling around inside her. I could tell the difference between my prick shooting a rope on my stomach or in my pubic hair, and feeling one of those ropes shoot through my prick and NOT feeling it anywhere on my body. And while I loved this game we were playing ... this different kind of One on One ... I sure didn't think anybody would see the humor in me knocking up my own sister.
So I sort of talked myself into believing that her going out with John, or anybody else, was probably a better idea than her NOT going out. Maybe it would give her an outlet and cool her down a little bit. I knew John fairly well, enough to know that he bragged about hitting on every girl he took out. I wasn't worried about Jill or anything. I was pretty sure she could take care of herself after hearing about what she'd done to do just that. But maybe she'd get off and be satisfied.
As some sisters are known to say ... No Way Ho-sea.
She got back on time - she had a ten O'clock curfew - and was all bouncy and happy. Dad had waited up for her and he and I were watching the news when she came in. As soon as he saw she was whole and dressed properly, he gave her a cursory kiss on the cheek and went off to bed.
She waited until he was up the stairs and said "Wait up for me ... I won't be long."
Inside twenty minutes she was in my room, naked, and on top of me, rubbing again.
"Mmmm I just can't believe how good this feels." she said. That seemed to be her basic description of what we did.
"I thought maybe you'd let John take care of things tonight." I said.
She stopped. Her hair was loose again and she swept it back with one hand, sitting on top of my schlong.
"I'm not a slut Bobby. I told you I don't do things with boys."
This she said while sitting naked on a boy, her brother though that boy might be, and rubbing her pussy on that boy's erect penis.
"Oh." was all I managed to say.
"You're different." she said, like that made all the sense in the world. "I love you. You're good to me. You'd never do anything to hurt me." She started rocking again. "I could never do this with somebody who didn't love me, or who I didn't love."
Well, now, there's an endorsement for you.
"What if you get pregnant?" I asked, my concerns from earlier rising to the surface.
"How sweet." she cooed. "I'm not going to get pregnant with you Bobby." she said firmly.
"How do you know?" I prodded ... verbally ... "I think I got some in you last night."
"I know you did." she said beginning to rub harder. "It felt wonderful ... all warm and gooey."
"That's what I mean." I said. Her unconcern was somehow very erotic and my balls were rumbling. "How do you know you won't get pregnant?"
"Because I know." she said in that voice that women have that suggests the conversation is over. She confirmed it by going on. "Now shut up and make me feel good. John made me horny."
For some reason I wanted to know the details. Maybe it's a guy thing, but visualizing my sister with guys had been a real turn on in the past, so I asked her tell me why John made her horny.
She said they kissed, and then kissed me, shoving her tongue into my mouth for the first time.
"Like that." she panted.
Then she told me that she let him play with her titties - her word, not mine - and he sucked on them. She demanded I suck them too.
"He's not as good at it as you are." she breathed, getting the knob of my prick where she seemed to like it the most ... almost inside her.
"Did you touch him?" I gasped, between sucking nipples.
"Yeah ... he only lasted maybe a minute." she gasped back.
We took time out to have orgasms. She started first, pressing and digging the tip of my cock into her opening and jerking in that way that I knew meant she was going off. Thinking of John spurting helped me spurt. She lay down on my chest when she felt the first spurt.
I didn't feel very much at all go into my pubes ... or anywhere on my body for that matter. I came pretty hard too.
"Mmmmm so warm" she whispered in my ear.
We both lay there, her splayed out on top of me, as we caught our breath. She pushed herself back up and then stood, her legs spread, squatting over my cock, which was going soft. She reached down and pushed a finger inside her pussy and then pulled it out and spread her pussy lips. A HUGE glob of thick white stuff started dripping out of her open pussy and it fell on my cock. She stayed there for two more globs to drip out and then scooted down and had her desert, sucking it all up and swallowing and making little mewling noises of happiness.
Other than the fact that it was clearly obvious I'd spurted up inside her, and that she could, at this very moment, be gloriously ... er ... disastrously pregnant by her own brother ... it didn't seem like life could get any better.
Maybe she did think about the pregnancy angle. Or, perhaps I was a new toy she'd played with as much as she could and finally gotten tired of. For whatever reason, she didn't come to my room for almost a whole week. It never occurred to me that I could go to HER room. So far she had initiated everything, and all I had done was be a fountain of sperm. Well, except for that cherry busting thing. But that was an accident, so it doesn't count, right?
She didn't say anything to me about it either. I mean it would have been nice if she'd have said something. Maybe "I thought it over Bobby and this is insane." I would have understood that. Or "It was fun, but you're my brother and sisters just don't do that stuff with their brothers." I could have seen where she'd think that. Or even "I don't love you any more and I'm going to let total strangers do all that stuff from now on." I wouldn't have liked that, but at least I'd have understood it was over. But she didn't say any of those things. She didn't say anything at all. The only reason I knew she still at least tolerated me was that every so often, when nobody else was around, she'd let her fingers drift over my crotch, outlining my schlong. Twice she put a lip lock on me that would melt aluminum. Both times I ran my tongue around inside my mouth when we were done, to make sure it was still there.
But she didn't come to my room.
Then, a week later, she went on another date. This one was with Randy Zimmerman, who was a whiz in science and sort of a geek. Dad even asked her about that.
"Isn't that guy who tutored you during school last year?" he asked at supper.
"Uh huh." said Jill, talking and eating at the same time. "This is sort of a reward for him helping me pass."
"You have a mighty high opinion of yourself." said Dad.
"What?" It wasn't often that Jill was caught unawares.
"I just think that making yourself available for a date as a reward is kind of egotistical, don't you think?" Dad knew lots of big words. We knew better than to ask what they meant. We got sent for the dictionary every time and the next day there would be a pop quiz on how to spell the new word.
"It's not like that at all." said Jill, sounding hurt. "He's shy, and doesn't date or anything. So it's not ME that's the reward. It's helping him learn how to act on a date that's the reward. Kind of reverse tutoring. I'm tutoring him on social behavior." She smiled. She looked up more words than I did and her vocabulary was pretty impressive.
"Humph." snorted Dad. "You just make sure you don't reward him TOO much."
"DADDY!" gasped Jill. A year ago I'd have believed she was actually horrified. "I'm not that kind of girl!" she went on, overacting a little. "I'm a GOOD girl." she finished primly.
"You know what we called a good girl when I was in High School?" asked our father.
"Charles ..." warned our mother. She had a sixth sense when her husband was going to cross over some line she knew about. Or she'd heard this one before.
He ignored her. "A good girl was always in bed by nine." he stated firmly. Then he kind of grinned and glanced sideways at Mom. "And home by midnight."
Well that pretty well broke up dinner. Mom got disgusted and Jill's giggle box got spilled so that she couldn't stop. Then Mom started giggling too while Dad ate calmly, acting like nothing at all had happened. Things quieted down finally and Dad got them going again by saying "I married a good girl."
Mom screeched and Dad looked at his watch and said "It's almost eight thirty, we'd better hurry darling."
Mom started throwing dish towels at him and he started chasing her around the kitchen table and Jill and I beat a hasty retreat.
"Wait up for me tonight." said Jill in my ear, and then she was off to go meet Randy. I stood there, shocked. Apparently it wasn't completely over yet.
I thought about Jill and Randy that night. I knew Randy pretty well, and he really was shy, so I didn't see any way that he was going to pet my sister on their date, and the idea of her jerking him off was just ludicrous. But she'd said to wait up, so I read in bed, which I liked doing anyway.
I heard her come in, and I heard Dad give her a ten minute lecture for being ten minutes late on her curfew. She explained that Randy had been teaching her star patterns and they'd lost track of time and even offered to take him outside and show him Orion and Alpha Centauri, or at least the two stars in Alpha Centauri that you could see at this latitude at this time of year, and she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Dad declined and went to bed.
Jill didn't even go to her room first. She came into mine and closed the door quietly.
"How'd it go?" I asked, expecting her to say it was boring.
"We had fun." she said. "I let him kiss me."
"How nice of you." I said.
"Down there." she added.
I goggled. "Randy Zimmerman went DOWN on you?!" I gasped.
She smiled. "Actually we went down on each other."
"I don't believe it." I said, not meaning I didn't actually not believe her. It was just a habitual response.
But she took it as a real denial. She was wearing a leather miniskirt and she lifted it to show me she wasn't wearing any panties.
"He tastes different than you. He's not as big as you, of course, but he was fun to be with because it was all new to him. I really had a good time Bobby."
I cannot begin to tell you how weird it was to listen to her talk about Randy Zimmerman and how he tasted and how big ... or small ... he was. I just couldn't visualize it in my head.
"He said I taste tangy." she said, undoing her miniskirt and dropping it.
I don't have to tell you what happened. Just like before she orchestrated things and said for me to do this and lie like that and the next thing I knew her pussy was descending toward my lips and her mouth covered my knob.
Let's be honest. Most fifteen year old guys talk about eating pussy, and dream about eating pussy, and lie about eating pussy, but most fifteen year old guys don't actually think they'll EVER actually ever get to EAT pussy.
So when it happens, you're kind of stunned. I know I was stunned. I was so stunned that she got my whole face wet by rubbing her pussy all over it before I perked up and started trying to stick my tongue where I thought I should try to stick my tongue. It was probably two or three minutes before I even remembered her clitty and tried to find it with my lips.
Meanwhile, my sister, who had done this before, was expertly in the process of sucking my balls dry. I don't think she got there, as far as having an orgasm, I mean, but I sure did. She drank it all down and kept playing with my prick while I tried and tried to get her hips to jerk around in that special little way that meant she was having an orgasm.
Finally she stopped and climbed off.
"You'll do better next time." she said.
I felt like a charity case.
"Randy was able to get hard again quite soon." she said, making me feel even worse. "I want you to get hard again so I can rub." she suggested.
I felt pretty helpless. I'd never tried to get hard again after I came. I mean the whole point of cumming was to feel it, and be satisfied and then go do something else, right?
My sister made me sit up, and she straddled me, with her legs around my waist, her buttocks on my thighs, and her hot breasts pressed to my chest. Then we kissed for a while. We kissed a lot. I'd never kissed a girl this long, or with this much tongue and we'd only been doing that for what seemed like a few minutes when I realized that I was, in fact, hard again.
She felt it, and broke a long kiss.
"I want you on top tonight." she whispered.
"I don't know." I said nervously. "How would that work?"
"You lay it down where I like it and then you slide it back and forth." she explained. She made it sound so simple.
"What if it ... goes in you again?" I asked.
"It won't." she assured me.
Still with some misgivings, I carefully positioned himself between her spread legs. She looked so good lying there, spread before me, that I felt myself leaking. I don't know if it was leftovers from the first time, or a sign of things to come from this time. Her small and surprisingly cool hand grasped my member and, as I lowered my hips, dug the tip directly into her pussy mouth.
I stopped and she used the end of my penis to rub her clitty.
"That's not what you said we were going to do." I whispered.
"Don't you worry about it." she sighed, digging a little deeper. "I'm just getting you ready."
She had a fistful of rock hard prick in her hand ... and she thought I wasn't ready?!
There I lay, with the knob of my prick firmly planted in the opening of my sister's virgin pussy. My body knew what to do about that ... but so far I had been able to control my body.
"That's not what you said we were going to do." I gasped again.
"I know, but it feels so good." she whispered huskily.
When I felt the tip slip up into her hair I let myself down on her, trapping her hand between us.
"Ohhh Bobby, come on." she complained.
"Let's try it the way you said." I insisted.
I raised up enough to let her pull her hand out from between us and then experimented with sliding my prick along the folds of her pussy lips. She jerked as the bottom of my long cock scraped across her clitty.
"Mmmm that's nice too." she panted.
It was nice for me too. She was wet, and she got even wetter, so much so that there began to be these wet squelching sounds as my balls slapped up against her pussy mouth.
Her hands came to my waist and she pushed. I couldn't figure out what she wanted until I slid down too far one time and the knob of my prick slid into her pussy mouth.
"Yessss right there." she hissed.
Man, that felt good too. All that hot, wet pussy flesh surrounding the tip of my cock felt really good. REALLY good. It was almost instinctive to push a little.
She sucked in air as I stretched her and I pulled back and angled myself so that the head slipped up over her hair. I stroked again, and again her hands started pushing. I don't know if I was teasing her, or if she was teasing me.
"We're going to do something you won't like if you keep doing that." I panted.
"But it feels so gooood." she whimpered.
"It's too big." I cautioned.
"It didn't kill me last time." she countered.
"You bled." I reminded her.
"I told you ... all women bleed the first time." she panted. "Come on Bobby ... just a little bit? Please? It feels so good."
"You'll get pregnant." I warned.
"No I won't." she said, her hands doing their best to move me where she wanted me.
I shouldn't have given in. I knew it then and I know it now.
But I did.
With very careful and conscious control I let the tip go back between her pussy lips and poked at her a little. I planned on doing only that ... poking a little. I figured as soon as it started hurting her she'd tell me to stop.
Maybe that's what "Ngggggg" meant, when the head of my prick popped into her pussy channel. She got all tense and made that sound, and I stopped. Her hands were still gripping my waist on both sides, but they just gripped. They didn't push.
I pulled it back out and her hands gripped me tighter.
"Do that again." she ordered.
"No." I said.
"Do that again or I'll just scream." she panted.
"You won't either." I knew she was lying.
She took a breath and said "Bobby!" so loud I thought my parents were already on the phone dialing 911. I panicked. What were they going to think if they opened the door to find out why she had yelled and found me, naked, on top of my also naked sister? No one would ever believe that it wasn't rape. I knew she could lie with the best of them, and that she would lie and say she didn't have anything to do with all this.
I know that's not really fair to Jill. It doesn't fit with what we had done, but I had spent years and years being put in positions of trouble by my sister. It was just easier to think she'd bail on me than believe that she really wanted me to put my prick back in her.
At any rate, I panicked and did exactly what she told me to do. I stuck it back in her.
Maybe it was the panic that made me stick it a little further than I had in the past. I mean it was only a couple more inches that slid up into her hot, gripping box. What I do know is that the breath rushed out of her in a long gasp, and my mind somehow registered that, without all that air in her lungs, she couldn't scream again. And THAT thought, somewhere in the synapses of my brain, suggested that if I kept pushing, she wouldn't be able to breathe ... or shout.
The upshot is that, by the time I got in control of my brain again, my sister's virgin pussy had six inches of very hard, very thick cock jammed in it.
I had the split second sensation of all that heat, wrapped around my prick and almost sucking at it, and then I jerked it back out.
"I'm sorry!" I sobbed. I knew she was going to scream again, this time for real, instead of just to scare me.
"Oh fuck." she moaned, her hands gripping my sides hard enough that I knew there would be punctures there. Her eyes were wide open, glinting in the light of my reading lamp, and she was staring up at me. I felt my prick start to soften and it sagged down and touched her pussy lips.
"Again." she said.
"You can't be serious." I stared at her.
"Again." she insisted.
"This is crazy!" I moaned.
"I'll scream." she warned.
Blackmail! I was being blackmailed by my own sister, who was demanding that my donkey dick be put inside her. She was crazy! This was the stupidest idea she'd ever had.
"You're probably bleeding again." I said, thinking that would stop her.
Her hands relaxed a little and she pushed my body up, lifting her head to stare down at the tip of my cock drooping into her pussy.
"I don't see any blood." she said.
"Didn't it hurt?" I asked, amazed.
"Some." she said vaguely. Then she looked at my eyes. "Again." she repeated.
"You're sure?" I asked, unbelieving.
"Ohhhh yes." she said, dragging it out.
"I think I'm getting soft." I said.
"That might be even better." she countered. Her hand came to my cock and she stroked it several times. "It doesn't feel soft to me."
What do you do when you're with a woman who is bent on doing something that will probably kill her, and get you killed in the process, but who is so stubborn that she insists on bringing about her own demise. I was going to get killed either way. If I did what she wanted, she'd be torn in half and probably die and my parents would be REALLY unhappy. If I didn't, she'd scream and my parents would storm in there and be ... REALLY unhappy.
So I stuck it in her again. I put those six inches back in her.
It didn't go in nearly as easily as it had before. My prick sort of bent or something, and I had to push a lot harder. It felt really good, though, and I pulled it almost out. By then it was back to being granite and I started in again. We both looked down as I did it this time, and she didn't exhale all her breath this time. In fact, she INhaled as I slid two thirds of my prick back inside her velvety sheath. I stopped when I hit something deep inside her that didn't feel like it was going to move.
Her head went back and she arched her back, holding her weight on the back of her head and her hips.
"Ohhh fuck that feels sooooo...." she didn't finish.
"Are you OK?" I asked, feeling the urge to push harder and fighting it hard.
"Yes." she gasped. "It's so ... it feels so ... " Again she didn't finish, but her hips wiggled. It was the kind of wiggle that could be interpreted as either an attempt to get away from the thing skewering her, or an attempt to get more of that skewering thing inside her. It was impossible, for me at least, to figure out which one. I pulled out a little.
"Ohhhhhh" she said as my thick member pulled at her pussy walls.
That "Ohhhhh" was hard to interpret too, but the urge to push back in was so strong that I had reinserted a couple of inches before I could stop myself.
"Oh fuck, Bobby," she gasped. "You just have no idea how that feels."
"Doesn't it hurt?" I asked.
"Yes ..." her hips wiggled again. "No ... " they wiggled some more. "I don't know." she responded in typical female un-clarity. "Just don't stop."
It suddenly struck me that I had been inside her for a couple of minutes now, and she wasn't bleeding, or flopping around on the bed expiring noisily, and that, in spite of everything I had ever believed, it was actually possible that my prick might actually fit inside a woman and not destroy her.
And she had said not to stop. So I didn't stop.
I have no idea where all those scruples I had such a short time before went, but they left room for something else, and that was a desire to make my sister squeal.
I started sliding almost all the way out ... and then in as far as I could get. I didn't go fast. Her pussy was so tight that it pulled at the skin of my dick and I knew if I tried to go fast it would hurt both of us. She gurgled a lot. It's hard to describe the noises she made as I reamed her out. That's really the only phrase that fits in this situation. I was reaming her out.
And it felt fabulous.
Her hips started getting a little closer to being in time with what I was doing to her, and lost a little of their uncoordinated movement. Her hands left my waist and flopped down onto the bed, maybe halfway between being beside her hips, and being completely outstretched. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing like she'd just run two miles as fast as she could, her breasts wiggling as they rose with harsh intakes of breath and the slight twisting she was doing with her upper body. Her nipples were long, and I leaned down to suck one in.
This was just the best thing that had ever happened to me in my whole life.
She jerked as I sucked that nipple and when I raised my head her eyes were open again. As I raised up, her head snapped up and she stared at what my prick was doing down there. She watched as I pulled almost out and then slowly slid all the way back in her ... or at least as far as I could.
"Ohhhh fuck" she panted. "Feels sooo goood."
I hit bottom and she quivered all over.
"Uhhh" she grunted.
She repeated that grunt each time I pressed into the back of her pussy. If I pushed a little harder, her grunt was a little louder, but she wasn't complaining. She closed her eyes again and arched her back up off the bed and then let herself relax again.
That liquid squelching sound that tennis shoes make when you've been wearing them in the lake and come back out on dry land. You walk and it squelches. She was making that sound down there so much that I looked down expecting to see liquid squirting out all over the place.
She opened her eyes again. "You're ... fucking ... me." she gasped between panting breaths.
Well duh! Wasn't this what she'd wanted? I thought for sure it was what she wanted. Why would she point out the obvious.
"You want me to stop?" I asked, knowing deep inside that I couldn't stop now ... not unless she beat me off of her.
"NO!" came her urgent grunt, and her hands came back up off the bed to grip my shoulders. "Don't stop Bobby ... please don't stop."
I looked down and my prick was shiny wet when it came out of her. I speeded up a little and got an impassioned "Yes!" from her. That made me go faster still, until I was banging into the back of her pussy with each thrust, no longer able to control how hard I was pumping into her.
"Oh yes!" she yipped, and then set up a chant of more "Oh yes." each time I hit bottom. She was getting loud.
"Shhhhh" I cautioned her.
One of her hands left my shoulder and clapped over her mouth and she made unintelligible noises as I kept going. My back started to complain and I laid down on top of her. I felt like I was crushing her, but her arms went around me and her mouth went to my neck and she used that to muffle her cries.
In this position all I had to do was flex my hips, hunching them, sort of like a belly dancer does, and then flexing them back the other way. The travel of my prick was shorter, but it felt so good I had to keep doing that.
I didn't know it then, but that also put the top of my dick solidly on her clitty and just about rubbed it raw. She got wild under me, her hands sliding all over my back and even down to my ass, where she pulled as I pushed, until she went rigid all over and made a high pitched keening noise in my throat.
That high pitched noise stabbed straight to my balls and I felt the first convulsive spurt of semen start racing through my cock. I knew I should pull out, but I just couldn't. Instead I pushed as hard as I could and I froze too.
Nothing ... nothing has ever felt like that. I knew I was cumming a river up inside her, and all I wanted to do was make that river a permanent part of her inner landscape. I wanted to cum until it spurted out of her ears.
Her head was twisting and her mouth came to my chin. I lifted it a little as she actually bit me there and her hands came to my head and forced me into a kiss. As my balls continued to push thick sperm into my sister's belly, she practically ate my lips and tongue. She was wild, her body wriggling under me so much that it felt like she was trying to throw me off. But her hands gripped my face, keeping me there for a longer and longer, even more torrid kiss.
It was the most unimaginably sweet, almost painfully passionate moment I had ever dreamed of, and it was real.
You'd have thought that once the passion faded a little, we would have been shy, or contemplative, or sorry, or something. What we were was a pair of lovers who had risen to a new level, a new kind of relationship, a relationship that, whatever came, couldn't be dismissed.
Neither of us said anything for probably ten minutes. I stayed right where I was, crushing her under me, as we traded kisses that got progressively shorter until they were numerous relaxed nibbles. We were both wet - not from my semen, which was being held inside of her by my prick, which had gone soft, but was still firmly plugging her sex. No, this was sweat, and we were dripping with it. It felt slippery between us and made things even more intimate in some way. Sweaty people don't just hug each other under normal circumstances, you know? But this felt good for some reason.
Finally I could tell she was laboring to breathe, and I rolled off of her. My prick made a wet sucking sound as it pulled out of her, almost an obscene kind of sound, but one which neither of us cared about just then.
"I wanted that so much." she breathed, turning her head toward mine.
"I thought you said I'd never have sex." I reminded her.
"I didn't think you could." she said. "But something made me try. I had to try."
"You don't look dead." I joked.
"I feel just wonderful." she smiled.
"Not sorry?" I asked.
"No way, Ho-sea" she quipped.
"I came in you." I admitted.
"I know." she said. "I could feel it."
"Not sorry?" I asked again.
She smiled and rolled over to kiss me a short kiss.
"No way, Ho-sea."
"Want to do it again some time?" I asked, the pit of my stomach suddenly knotted at the possibility that she'd come to her senses and say that this was the only time we could ever do that.
"Every day." she answered seriously.
"We can't do this every day." I said just as seriously.
"Yes we can." she said, her eyes half lidded.
Well, long story short, that's how I came to be called "Uncle Bob". The fact is that while we didn't do that every day, Jill got me to do it with her quite often. Her firm resolution that she would not become pregnant turned out to be based on her inner decision not to become pregnant, rather than anything based in science. The fact was that I knocked her up within a month.
Mom and Dad were furious, of course, and moaned and groaned about not being strict enough, and making her curfew too late, and letting her go out on too many dates with boys they didn't know.
She was already in the dog house, and when they demanded to know who had done this to their baby girl, she figured that things couldn't get any worse if she just told them she didn't know.
There was one tense moment when Mom remembered his joke about "Good girls being in bed by nine and home by midnight" Mom tried to blame it all on putting ideas in Jill's head. Jill got between them and stuck her chin out.
"Daddy didn't make me do anything." she declared. "I decided what to do and I screwed up, and it's all my fault. I'll deal with the situation. I don't want this to affect the rest of my family."
It was a noble thing to say, and I was impressed. She didn't try to wiggle out of it. But that brought up another argument between our parents who argued about just what "taking care of it" meant. It turned out that both of them were arguing against an abortion, but didn't know it. It might have been funny if it hadn't been so serious.
So Jill, at almost eighteen, had a baby boy, which was named Jeffrey, of all things, and, to the world at large, I was an uncle.
Uncle Bob. Kind of has a nice ring to it, you know?
Of course I knew it was my son, and I doted on him, but I suppose uncles dote on their nephews too, so it didn't seem odd to anybody.
Jill finished High School while Mom took care of her grandson during the days. Jill made an argument that I knew was a bald faced lie about how she should still be able to date and all that, but our parents were pretty adamant about her being a mother first, and about how she had partied once too often already and all that. Parents never accept you as an adult, even after you ARE an adult, and they sure don't treat a single mother still in school as one.
But the fact was that Jill only played the part of a High School girl who had made a terrible mistake, and was paying for it. When she looked at me there was something in her eyes that made me all warm inside.
Obviously, our nighttime games came to a screeching halt. That was tough on both of us for a while, but the occasional kiss told us both that our love was still real, and still there. The hardest part of it for me was going on dates with girls I didn't care about so that I would appear to be normal too.
Jill did well in school, and got a full ride for "disadvantaged youth" because of our son. It was when she went off to college with Jeffrey that it about killed me. I still had another year of school to go, and I didn't know if I'd make it or not. Jill came home a lot, since she was going to the State university in Carbondale, which was only an hour away. She was doing pre-med, of all things, and the scholarship included a stipend to live on so she wouldn't have to work and could apply herself to being a mother and student only.
By the time I got to State - NOT on a scholarship, I might add - Jeffrey was a wild kid firmly into the terrible twos and Jill talked our parents into letting me stay with her "to provide a good male role model in Jeffrey's life." She could still sell Popsickles to an Eskimo when she wanted to.
We moved into a two bedroom apartment and used the second bedroom for Jeffrey, unless someone was coming to visit, in which case we made it look like a sloppy college kid lived in that room. Actually I studied in there, being watched by my "nephew" while I pored over stuff that I didn't care about, but had to, if you know what I mean.
Two years later, just before Jill entered Medical School, she presented our parents with their second grandchild, a girl this time.
"So you're getting married?" hinted Mom, who held the baby like it was the most precious thing in the world.
"No." said Jill airily. "I like the guy, but not enough to marry him." she said.
My mother was outraged, and my dad did all the things dads do when they know their daughter sleeps around. But they got over it. At least Jill waited a while to inform them that she was used to living with me, and that Jeffrey was too, and a strange man in the house would just make things difficult.
Parents live in their own little world, most of the time. I think it was grandchild number four, who waited until Jill graduated from Med School to be born, that caused my father to step back and look at things. I mean I wasn't married, and had never had a girlfriend I talked about for more than a month or two. I couldn't drag out a fictional relationship longer than that without being pressured to bring the girl home to meet the folks. And Jill wasn't talking about any special man in her life.
But she kept getting pregnant.
And Dad wasn't stupid. He just lived in that little world where parents just don't reflect on their children having wild hot sex together and making babies as a result.
He looked at me strangely for months after that, but never actually said anything. Mom just nattered on about how Jill would never find a husband with all those kids, beautiful and precious though they all were. She spoiled them like any Grandmother does. Dad did too, for that matter.
I don't know if Dad ever said anything to Mom about his suspicions or not, but eventually he started acting normal to me. Well, if you can call normal his assuming that Jill and I would be living together after I graduated from my course in engineering.
He only said one thing that tipped his hand. We were talking about where I might find employment after school, and I said I already had a job offer from a firm in Johnsonville.
"Hmmmm." he said. "That's only twenty miles from where Jill is going to be doing her residency, isn't it?"
"Yeah." I said, noncommittally.
"And you two are going to keep living together, huh?" It was a statement, and not a question.
"I've kind of gotten used to helping out with the kids." I said, still trying to sound like I was saying something normal.
"I'll just bet you have." said Dad.
That was it. He changed the subject and never brought it up again. He always called me "Uncle Bob" when the kids were at their house. Once, when I was in another room and could hear them, but not see them, Melissa was acting up and he threatened to tell Uncle Bob that she was being bad and needed to be spanked.
"Uncle Bob won't spank me." she piped. "He LOVES me."
"I know he does, pumpkin," said her Grandfather. "I know he loves you ... that's why he WILL spank you if you need it."
"I'll be good." said my daughter.
"Well then, maybe I won't have to tell Uncle Bob what you did." said my Dad. "You want to go play on the swing set?"
It was just the kind of conversation you'd expect a grandfather to have with his granddaughter about her father ... not her uncle. That's why I thought he figured it out.
Mom was oblivious, through those four and the two that followed over the years, up until the day she died. She was lying there, dying of cancer, looking wan and pale and we all knew she wasn't much longer for this world. I was sitting with her and she had been sleeping, or at least had her eyes closed. They brought in a tray of lunch and woke her up, but she wasn't hungry.
"Bobby?" she said.
I looked up from the magazine I had been reading.
"You've lived a good life and I'm proud of you." she said.
"Thanks Mom." I responded.
"I've never been ashamed of you ... never ... and not of Jill either." she said.
My gut got tight.
"Thanks Mom." I said.
"You take good care of your father when I'm gone." she said. I opened my mouth but she went on. "And those kids too. You take care of them too. I'm so proud of them." She had tensed up and relaxed back into the bed, her hand going for the morphine pump that she seemed to hit more and more often these last couple of days.
Somehow, in that moment, I knew that she knew, just like I knew that Dad knew what had really happened.
"I will." I promised.
"You're the best Uncle they could ever have." she said softly. "You did good, Bobby. Real good. Tell Jill I said the same thing about her, will you?"
"She'll be here later today." I said. "You can tell her yourself."
"I'll do that." she said. "Now, you've been sitting here too long. You need some fresh air. Go find your sister and play some one on one with her or something."
And then she went limp and that death rattle I had heard about so many times, but which no one could ever be prepared for, sighed out of her and she was gone.
Another one of those bricks hit me in the head just then. She'd known for a long time, if not the whole time. My mother had known who had fathered her Grandchildren, but had never let on even one minute that she knew.
In that moment, a moment that was filled with sadness mixed with gladness that her pain was finally over, there was also a generous touch of astonishment.
I knew exactly where Jill had inherited her ability to act and say things that were completely at odds with the truth ... and pull it off flawlessly.
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