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One On One With Uncle Bob
by Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

***

Bob was good at basketball, but could his sister beat 
him at one on one? She could if she played the game by 
her own rules. The story of how Bob became an uncle. 
(mf-teen, inc, youths, reluc, 1st, mast, oral, preg)
 
***

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."

Damn!

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 "HARD-
ON 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.

Until now.

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.


CHAPTER TWO


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 it would be," 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.

"What?" 

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 hands 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 don't' 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.

Bad idea.

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 doesn't' 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?"


CHAPTER THREE


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 "Don't 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 so 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 good," 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.

"Ooooh," 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 Zickafuss's house and 
they did each other's 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?!


CHAPTER FOUR


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 soo 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 popsicles 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.

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 48