This is the fifth chapter (of eight) in the fourth and final book of Charlie and Mindy. The books detail a story of forbidden love between a brother and a sister.
You can read this book on its own, but it refers to events that took place in Books 1, 2, and 3. If you want a better understanding of what is going on, read Book 1, Book 2, and Book 3 before reading this book.
I value your comments and your feedback, and I will respond to non-anonymous comments—usually within a week.
Sunday, May 15, 1988
My little sister Mindy and I awoke together that morning at about eight, on our left sides spooning against each other. My morning wood rested in its place in the cleft between the cheeks of Mindy’s ass, and my right hand cupped her left boob. As awareness returned to me, I began gently squeezing, releasing, squeezing, releasing her little tit. In return, her ass cheeks squeezed, released, squeezed, released my boner.
Our calculus final had been the previous morning—on the very last day of the final exam period, and we were, at last, free of academic pressure—at least for a while. And we were, again, in the spare bedroom that Buck and Steph, our friends—who were lovers in spite of being each other’s twins—had dedicated to us.
We lay there a while, each of us enjoying the feel of the other’s warm, naked body. The gentle, rhythmic squeezing continued. At length, Mindy moaned a happy little moan and muttered, “Your hand feels so good on my boob.”
I moaned, myself, and muttered back, “And your ass squeezes my cock so nicely.”
Noises came to us from the kitchen, and Mindy said, “Buck’s up, making breakfast.”
“Maybe,” I offered, “I’ll just have breakfast in here. I might like some crotch cobbler.” I’d barely finished when the elbow got me in the ribs. Fortunately, she had a bad angle. But she didn’t know that, and I said “Oof!” anyway, to forestall another, better, effort.
“Dope!” she said. “We have people waiting for us. And besides, we both have to piss.”
I continued to squeeze her boob, and, as I did, I reached down with my lips and planted a big, sloppy, wet kiss on the back of her neck. She shuddered. And, I noted, her ass cheeks hadn’t broken the rhythm of the clenches they were delivering. “Are you sure?” I whispered—squeezing her tit a little more strongly and rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
Her hips started rocking a bit. She moaned again. “You do make a pretty good argument,” she admitted—a bit reluctantly, it seemed.
We lay there, each of us coming to terms with consciousness and continuing to enjoy what the other’s body was doing to and for us—and what our own bodies were doing in return.
At length, she rolled over in my arms, until she faced me. Her little boobs rubbed against my chest, my rod got trapped between our bodies. She put her arms around me and squeezed me. Then she kissed me, open-mouthed, on the lips. I returned the kiss, and she wiggled her warm, naked little body against me.
Then she broke the kiss and, before I could react, rolled away from me and out from under the bedcovers on her side of the bed. Once she was on her feet, she looked down at me and smiled as she saw me enjoying the view I now had of her wonderful naked little body. She bent over and kissed me gently, mouth closed, on the lips. She broke the kiss and, without straightening, looked me in the eyes, smiling.
“Men!” she said. “You only think of one thing!”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m thinking of several things. And I can see them all now that you’re standing up.”
That had earned me a punch. But she was still smiling, and it was a gentle one—aimed more at making a point than at causing pain. She stood up and moved away from the bed after she’d delivered it.
“Hey,” I said. “A fellow has to try.”
She was grinning now. “Yes,” she answered. “He does.” She continued as she threw a shirt on and started to button it over those beautiful little tits, “He’d better. And it makes me happy when he does.”
I rolled in the other direction and started to get out of bed on my side. By the time I’d found my pants, she’d already stepped into hers. I watched as her pussy disappeared into them and she zipped them up. “I’m going to go piss and brush my teeth,” she said, heading for the door. “I’ll be back so you can have your turn.”
When she returned, I’d take my piss, do my teeth, and get my shower. Then she’d go back to the bathroom and get her shower. It was the routine we’d worked out for the mornings when we woke up in Buck and Steph’s house. Four of us had to use their single bathroom on those mornings. Fortunately, Buck was an early riser, and he had usually finished by the time Mindy and I woke up. Buck wouldn’t wake Steph, who preferred to be nudged gently around noon, until breakfast was ready—which gave her a good reason to get up. Mindy and I agreed that solo showers weren’t very much fun, but two of them were a lot quicker—and quieter—than a single one of our shared showers was likely to be.
A half hour later, the four of us gathered at the breakfast table. Steph, as usual, was still half asleep, hair disheveled. She’d thrown a robe over whatever she wore (or didn’t wear) to bed. It did little to confine or conceal her awe-inspiring boobs. Watching them bob and sway as she moved at the breakfast table was a major form of entertainment for me. Watching me admire them was a major form of entertainment for Mindy. And, I imagine, for Steph—whose grins had let me know several times that, half asleep as she usually was, she was well aware of my admiration. Buck, too, must have been aware, but on a number of occasions, I’d noticed that he seemed lost in Mindy’s curves and shapes. The grass, I guess, is always greener on the other side.
As we ate, we discussed the events planned for that day and the next. This was commencement day, and Frank and Earl, who shared the first floor of the house where I lived, were both graduating seniors. That afternoon, they would be leaving the house. George, with whom I shared the top floor, had left three days ago—the day after his last final exam. He was transferring to CU for the coming year, and he, too, would not be back the next year. Steph and Buck were going to spend the day getting packed up to move. And, on the next day, Mindy and I would help them move into the first floor of “my” house—which the four of us planned to share for the next two years.
Mindy had already moved her things from the dorm the day before, in anticipation of Pussy Hole’s closing today. We’d spent this night at Buck and Steph’s in order to maintain the fiction the whole campus thought was the truth—that Steph and I were lovers and that Mindy and Buck were also lovers. We thought it a delightful fiction—almost as delightful as it might have been if it had been true—because it kept people from tumbling to the facts that my little sister Mindy and I were fucking each other and that Steph and her twin, Buck, were fucking each other.
Mindy offered our help in getting packed up, but they thought that there wasn’t much either of us could do—they wanted mostly to pack up personal things. I realized, then, that the two of us were at loose ends for the day. I looked at my little sister and saw a sneaky little smile develop on her face as she came to the same realization. “Well,” she said, “I guess my brother and I can find something to do for the day.”
She looked at Steph, whose broad grin left us no doubt that she’d guessed what we’d spend at least part of the day doing, and continued, “Charlie and I will take you two out for supper tonight. Your kitchen will be dismantled, and Charlie’s kitchen over at the house doesn’t have anything but junk food in it right now.”
“That sounds like a deal to me,” said Buck—whose own broad grin showed that he understood what Steph did—so that he knew exactly why Mindy and I probably wouldn’t have time to get to Krojer. And the look he shared with Steph told me that at least one “personal belonging” of his would get packed, temporarily, perhaps, into one of hers.
We got our things out of “our” bedroom and loaded them into the car. We’d known this day was coming, so there wasn’t very much, and it didn’t take us very long. Then we came back in and made arrangements to meet them there around five that afternoon. As we were about to go, Steph stepped up to me expectantly. I obliged her and took her into my arms. Her arms reached up around my neck, and she held me close. I was vaguely aware that Mindy had stepped up close to Buck—who was giving her the same treatment I was giving Steph.
As I held her close, enjoying the feel of her body—her loose boobs in particular—against me, she looked up at me and smiled. “I’m really looking forward to sharing your house with you and Mindy,” she said. “Thanks for arranging that deal with Ken.” And she reached up for a kiss.
“Me, too,” I said. And then I kissed her. She opened her mouth in invitation, and my tongue entered to wrestle, briefly, with hers. My cock responded, and I felt her hips grind her lower body against it.
When our mouths separated, we looked into each other’s eyes. “You’re incorrigible,” she whispered at me, smiling dirtily, appreciatively. She wiggled her shoulders, so that I felt her splendid chest moving against me.
“If I knew her, I might be,” I said.
“The prosecution rests!” she said, smiling as she reached up for another kiss.
I gave it to her. She wiggled against my cock again.
As we separated, Buck and Mindy parted, too. Mindy reached for my hand, and, together, we walked out to the car.
There are several national forests not far from the town where the college is located, and Mindy and I agreed as we drove off that this would be a good day to go take a look. We hadn’t done so the fall before, because we hadn’t had a car. Mid-May was still too early to check out very much. The weather was good and the temperature in town was in the low sixties. But it would be cooler in the woods, and there would still be a lot of snow on the ground—especially after you got up high, or very far from the roads. But this was a good opportunity to do a first reconnaissance.
And there would unquestionably be plenty of places where we could find some privacy. But first we needed to stop by the house for heavier jackets, lunch food, and the fucking pack. As we got some food together, I found a plastic water bottle and filled it up. Then we headed out of town.
An hour and a half later, we found ourselves on a back road in the middle of a pine forest. We hadn’t seen anyone for the last twenty minutes, when I found a small, empty parking lot, just off the road. I pulled off, parked, and shut the car off. Once we’d parked, I could see a Forest Service notice board back in the trees, where a trail disappeared into the woods. I looked over at Mindy. She looked back and smiled.
“This looks like a trailhead,” I said. “I’d like to explore some more, but we’d better not go too far. “We don’t have the gear for a real hike. And we don’t have a map. That’s a situation I need to fix so we can explore better.”
“We didn’t tell anyone where we were going, either,” she pointed out.
“That means that no one will come looking for us in the next hour,” I said—with a leer.
“Oh, I hope not,” she leered back. Her little left hand stroked my cock through my jeans—giving me a hard-on.
We got out of the car and threw our jackets on. It was cool—probably in the middle fifties, there in the woods, but not so cool that we had to zip up immediately. I put the red pack on my back and took her little left hand in my right hand. Together, we checked out the trailhead sign. The map on the board showed that the trail headed for higher country. Hand in hand, we traipsed up the trail a few hundred yards.
The only human footprints in the soft moist earth looked like they’d been there all winter. I wasn’t surprised in the least; the ground here was clear, and the underbrush was greening up with spring, but there would still be snow on the ground up higher. No one would do any serious hiking on this trail for another month or two.
Once the car, the parking lot, and the road were well out of sight, I stopped and turned toward my little sister. She turned toward me and looked up into my eyes. She moved softly up against me; my arms surrounded her and her arms reached up around my neck. We held each other close as we looked into each other’s eyes. Once again, I fell into the depths of those limpid blue pools. The curves and shapes of her marvelous little female body molded themselves against me.
“What was it,” she said softly, “that you had in mind when we woke up this morning?” She was smiling up at me.
I smiled back down at her. “The same thing you have in mind right now, I’ll bet,” I replied. Then I looked around us. We were well away from the parking lot, and, about thirty feet off to the right of the trail there was a cluster of small spruces. I led her around them. There was an open space, about nine feet square, beyond them, where anyone—and anything they might do—would be invisible from the trail. I pulled her into that space, pulled her close to me, and I reached down to kiss her.
She reached back, and time stood still while our tongues danced with each other. When we broke that kiss, she looked up at me again, still smiling.
“Nobody’ll be on this trail today,” I said. “And, even if there is someone, they won’t see what’s going on behind these trees.”
She reached up for me and, before kissing me again, she said, “We’d better get the quilt out and spread it. Pronto!”
I brought my arms from around her so that my hands could cup her tits under her jacket and through her shirt. As usual, she wore no bra, and the firm round flesh filled my palms. Gently, I kneaded them, and my cock throbbed against her.
She abandoned the kiss as her own hands tried to pull the pack-straps off of my shoulders. But then she looked up at me, serious for the moment. Her arms went back around me. “I wish my boobs were big, like Stephanie’s, so you’d like them as much as you like hers,” she said. There was a tinge of sadness in her voice.
“I do like her tits,” I said. “But mostly the way I like a natural phenomenon. I like them the way I like… Oh, Mount Everest. It’s one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Steph’s tits are two more Natural Wonders.”
She was laughing now, and holding me close against her; she put her head down against my chest. I loved the feeling of her body quaking against mine.
I went on, still kneading her boobs. “But they make Steph top-heavy. I love your tits because they’re part of you. And because they’re in such nice proportion to the rest of you. And because they’re so sexy I can hardly stand it.”
She rubbed her lower belly against the bulge in my pants. “Part of you,” she said through her laughter, “is definitely doing its best to stand. Now let go of me so we can get this pack off of you.”
Reluctantly, I did as she’d asked. We got the pack off of me, got that soft old quilt out of it, and laid it on the ground in the little clearing behind the spruces. We no sooner had it spread out than Mindy sat on it and pulled me down beside her. Once I was seated, she turned and laid herself back across my lap, facing to my right. She put her right arm around my back; reaching forward with her left hand, she could just clasp hands to hold me and hold herself up.
“Now,” she said. “Isn’t that better?”
I put my own arms around my lovely little sister; I had to admit that it was.
She smiled up at me. “Tell me more about why you like my boobs.”
“I’m going to show you how much I like them,” I said, as my right hand again reached under her jacket, cupped her left boob through her shirt. and began kneading the firm roundness.
She moaned and said, “I like it when you show me that.” And she reached up for another kiss.
As we kissed, my hand abandoned her tit long enough to unbutton her shirt. Then it moved under the cloth to cup the nakedness underneath. She moaned again, into the kiss. The kiss went on and on; tongues played and lips nibbled. She unclasped her hands and her left hand came up behind my head to caress me and hold me to her.
When the kiss broke, she smiled again and looked up at me. As my hand continued to massage her tit, she said, “What is it that I feel against my right hip?”
“It’s just that troublesome old DSB growth,” I replied, with my own smile. My boner was struggling to break through my jeans.
“Oh, dear!” she snorted, in mock horror. “Not more Deadly Semen Backup?”
Her left hand started trying to undo the zipper of my fly; the effort failed because of the way our positions complicated matters. She gave it up for the time being and went for my belt buckle. It opened easily. She unbuttoned the waist of my jeans, and then her little hand worked its way up the buttons of my shirt—leaving them undone as it passed.
My own hand left her boob—to unbuckle her belt and unbutton the waist of the jeans she wore. Her zipper didn’t cause me the trouble mine had caused her; it zipped easily, all the way down, exposing another pair of little pink cotton bikini panties—panties just like the pair she’d once worn just long enough to imbue with the perfume of her femininity before giving them to me to put in my pocket and carry around through a particularly long day. My boner throbbed at the sight and the memory.
My right hand delved into her groin, passing first under the elastic waistband of her panties and along the soft, smooth skin of her belly. My extended fingers encountered the stiff curls of her little bush and pushed onward, deeper into her crotch. She moved her left leg outward to make more room for my hand, and my fingers found her cleft. It was hot, wet, slippery. My cock throbbed yet again at the touch.
Her left hand now roamed over the skin of my chest; she moaned again, and raised her lips to find mine. My index finger stroked along the furrow between her outer labia, stroking her inner ones, as my own lips met hers. Her hips rocked in response, and she moaned again.
When I backed away from that kiss, I looked down at her. She looked up at me and smiled.
“These pants are in the way, again,” she said. “We’d better get up and get rid of them. But it’s cold. We should wrap the lower part of the quilt around our legs while we fuck.”
It was too chilly to expose a lot of bare flesh for long. I smiled back. “That’s a plan,” I said getting to my feet and reaching for the waistbands of jeans and boxers. “You sure are good at making them.”
“I think a lot to come up with them,” she answered, grinning. She got up, too, and reached for her own pants. “But mainly, we don’t want your dick to suffer an environmental injury. We’d better get him into my dick warmer quickly!”
“Lucky for me you’re so alteristic,” I pointed out as I kicked off my shoes and pulled my pants down and off.
She looked as if she was about to say something, but my boner interrupted her thoughts when it sprang proudly out of its confinement and bounced a bit in the cold air. Her own shoes and pants came off a split second later and came to rest, with my own, on the ground beside the quilt. I took my wonderful little sister into my arms again, to kiss her. She was more than willing, but our southern halves were getting too chilly for that kiss to last for long.
She pulled away after a bit, and sat on the quilt, in the center of the left half—not far from our shoes and our pants. She looked up at me and gave me her dirtiest grin as she spread her knees and laid back, grasping my right hand and pulling me down between her legs. Her snatch lay open before me.
I dropped to my knees admiring her little triangle of fur and the pink, wet folds she presented to me. I leaned forward; her left hand released my right hand and grasped the quilt. I placed my left hand on the quilt beside her upper body to bear the weight of my upper body. As I lowered myself onto her, my right hand guided my stiffness into her body. I was dimly aware that, somehow, as I entered her, she maintained enough composure to grasp the quilt with her left hand and throw enough of it over us to cover our bare legs and our lower backs. Then she wrapped each of her own legs around one of mine and pulled us closer as I lowered myself onto my elbows.
She put her arms around my torso and held me close to her. The warmth of her body enveloped me, and the hot wetness of her cunt clasped my cock. I looked, again into the depths of those deep blue eyes, and I felt her love surround me. Softly, I kissed her. Just as softly, she kissed back.
“Your cock always feels so good inside me,” she whispered. She rocked her hips a bit, stroking my cock with the tight wet sheath of her cunt. I rocked my own hips in answer, caressing her cunt with the length of my cock.
She moaned and smiled at me. “What a nice way to tell my man I love him,” she said.
“What a wonderful way,” I answered, “to tell my woman how much I love her.”
We lay there, connected, in intimate embrace for a few moments. Gently, we kissed. Kissed again. We murmured meaningless phrases at each other. Her little hands roamed over the parts of my body she could reach, and the fragrances of her body, dominated but not obliterated by the heady smell of her arousal, drifted up, guided by the quilt, into my nostrils. I have no idea how much time passed as we lay there, entranced by each other, each lost in the other’s body, but I doubt that it could have been long. The sensations in my cock grew stronger, wilder, and they took over.
My hips rocked, had been rocking, moving my shaft in and out of her, in and out, in and out, in the ancient, compelling rhythm once more. A multithreaded knot formed in my groin and tightened there. As my hips danced and hers answered, I found the strength to raise my head and look again at her face.
Her eyes were closed, but she’d felt my head move, and she opened them and looked into my own eyes. Deep blue surrounded me again, and, as if from a great distance, I heard her whisper, “Oh, Charlie! I love you so much!”
The knot grew ever tighter, ever larger, and my hips drove my cock into her again and again as her hips drove back. I tried to reply, to tell her how much I loved her, but the knot obsessed me, and no words would come. And the hot tight clasp of her cunt governed me: the expectation of what was about to come overwhelmed me.
And the knot disintegrated, unravelling into thousands of shimmering fragments that flew throughout my body—communicating the happy catastrophe our efforts had caused. Great torrents, it seemed, of boiling cum surged repeatedly through the length of my cock and into my little sister’s body. I had no eyes, I thought, to see with, nor ears to hear with, as I ascended to the peaks of ecstasy.
The tumult within me receded slowly, and I gasped for air. I found myself still lying on the ground, my weight still on my elbows. I was still wrapped in our quilt, lying on top of my little sister. My little sister’s arms still enclosed my body. Her legs were still wrapped, individually, about each of my own legs, and her cunt still clutched at my cock—I could feel its sporadic contractions. Her little body convulsed under me, and she was lost in the grasp of her own orgasm. Her deep sobbing groans filled the air, lessening as I listened.
My head had fallen onto the quilt to my left of her head; I raised it and turned toward her. Gently I nibbled at her neck and her ear as she descended from her own heights to become aware of her surroundings again.
Her erratic groans diminished and became regular, heavy breathing as the grip of her orgasm receded. Her arms and her legs tightened, not in spasm, but in willing embrace—holding me close as though to welcome herself back from wherever she’d been. Soon she was moaning gently in time with the nibbles and kisses I continued to place on her neck and her ear.
Keeping my elbow on the ground to support the weight of my upper body, I raised my right hand and brought it up to cup her left boob. I kneaded the firm round flesh, and I felt her cunt contract in response. I continued my hand’s motions, along with those of my lips, and I felt more of her cunt’s rhythmic contractions.
Then her arms loosened their grasp, and her hands began to flow up and down my back and my sides.
She hummed a stronger, happier moan, and she said, “You really do know what makes me work, don’t you? It feels so good when you touch my boob that way right after I’ve come.”
I raised my head and looked again into those deep blue eyes. Before they could overwhelm me again, I said, “I thought you might like it. I sure like what you’re doing to my cock.” And I punctuated my remarks with a long, gentle, delicious kiss.
I raised my head again, and looked into her eyes again. They smiled up at me, and I smiled back. We looked into each other’s eyes a while, and the contractions of her cunt grew gentler, gentler, more gentle yet, until they had diminished to the point where I could no longer feel them.
Slowly, I raised my hips, withdrawing my cock—which was now softening—from her body. I moved, slowly still, to my left, rolling onto my back. I pulled her with me. She divined my intent—her little left hand grasped the quilt that lay over the naked lower halves of our bodies and held it so that it didn’t move with us as we rolled. She scootched a bit to her left to make room for me on the quilt. Thus, we came to rest with me on the quilt on my back, and Mindy’s body, on her right side, up against me. Her head lay on my left shoulder and the quilt still encased our legs and hips.
We lay there, in each other’s arms, in the forest’s quiet spring sweetness, and in our own quiet after-fuck sweetness. We still wore our shirts and our jackets, but they were open—and her chest had come to rest unclothed against the bare skin of my own side and chest. She’d folded her right leg over my thighs, and her wonderful little snatch rested against my left hip—oozing wetly onto my skin.
She moaned softly, almost musically, against me, and I hummed back a little moan of my own. Her lips found my neck and kissed it softly.
“I really like feeling your naked body against me after we’ve fucked,” I said, squeezing her against me for a moment.
She squeezed me back, and said, “I like it, too. I like to feel you against me this way.”
We lay in silence, each enjoying the feel and the smell of the other. Eventually, she spoke: “I’m really glad that you made that deal with your landlord. It’ll be so good to really share a house with Steph and Buck without feeling like we’re guests in their house.”
“I’m glad, too,” I said. “And I managed to save them $20 a month over what they’re paying now, too. But I had to promise Ken that the four of us will rent the whole house for two years. So you and I will have to pay for six months we don’t really need.”
After she thought about that for a minute, she said, “That’s OK. We can afford it, and they’re on a tight budget.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” I said. “In effect, I’ve transferred some of their rent to our shoulders, and paid for the privilege of doing so. But I don’t think they need to know that.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Mum’s the word. If Buck found out, he’d have a cow. But you did a Good Thing.” And I could hear those capital letters.
“Maybe,” I said, “it was a Good Thing. But we need to find other ways to share what we have with them without making them think we’re just being charitable. They don’t have much, but they’ll share everything they have with us. I wish they’d let us share what we have with them the same way.”
“Let’s keep that in mind. Maybe we can figure something out,” she said.
I turned my head, and my lips sought hers. We kissed.
“They’ll get most of their moving done this afternoon. We should spend a few days with them, and then I think we should go back to Fort Collins for a week or two. Say, after your birthday,” I offered after the kiss. I continued, “We have a number of things to do there, but I’ll bet the twins want to help celebrate your birthday next Saturday.”
“Yes, we do have things to do,” she replied. “I was thinking about what we need to do in Fort Collins just the other day. But I’d like to share my birthday with them. “
“That reminds me,” I said. “Did NOLS get their money? They wanted something by about now, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, they wanted $1795 for tuition and equipment deposit by tomorrow,” she said. “The day after I got that letter, I made a copy of it and sent it to Quent. I got a letter back about ten days later and he said he’d taken care of it. And I went to see Dr. Baire to get my physical. She thinks I’m in good shape.”
“Now that you mention it,” I said, “so do I.”
She elbowed me. “Not that kind of shape, moron!”
We lay there in each other’s arms a while longer. I felt her quiver a bit against me as her emotions built again. But this time it wasn’t because of me. “Oh, Charlie! It’s really going to happen, isn’t it? I’m going to spend a month in that beautiful country we saw last summer.”
She pulled herself closer to me as she spoke, and I held her tightly.
“Actually,” I said, “I expect you’ll probably spent most of that month on the other side of the Divide from where we were in August. It’s even more remote—and more beautiful—there. You’re going to love it. And I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. I wish you could come with me,” she said, squeezing me a little tighter.
“You’ll be too busy to miss me,” I said. “And you’ll love every minute of it.”
“Do you think?”
“You loved every minute of our trip last summer, didn’t you?”
“That was different. You were there. And I fell in love with you.”
“And I fell in love with you. And I’m still in love with you.” She’d moved away to talk, so I pulled her closer again and kissed her again. We lost ourselves in that kiss for a few minutes. When it was over, she raised herself on her right elbow so that she could look me in the eye. She smiled at me. I smiled back and whispered, “And I’ll never stop loving you.”
“Big brother and little sister,” she murmured at me, still smiling.
“Best friends and lovers,” I whispered back as I raised my right hand to caress her cheek.
Together, softly, lovingly, we said, “Now and always.”
She continued with, “I love you so much.” Her left hand reached to stroke the right side of my face.
I gave the reply. “I love you even more!” And she lowered her head to kiss me yet another time. I kissed her back.
When we broke the kiss, she raised her head and we looked again into each other’s eyes. Each of us still had a hand on the other’s cheek. We remained in that position for a few moments. Her wiry little bush tickled my hip, and the hard little pebbles of her nipples dug little depressions in my chest.
We stayed that way, silently communing with each other for a minute or two. I felt her shivering against me. And then I realized that, even partially wrapped, as we were, in our fucking quilt, we were cold.
“As much as I love you,” I said, squeezing her one more time, “I’m cold, and I need to get some pants on. Maybe even get back into the car and turn the heater on.”
She looked into my eyes again, then dipped her head for another kiss—a brief one this time. Then, throwing the quilt off and getting up, she said, “That’s a plan, Buster.”
Cold as I was, it didn’t stop me from admiring the view until her pussy disappeared into her pants and her boobs hid under her shirt and jacket.
Once we were back in the car and moving again, the car’s heater banished the cold, and we warmed up quickly—we’d been chilled, but not dangerously so. Mindy reached into the back seat and got the water bottle and the food we’d brought. We each had some of the water, and she dug into the sack of food. There was a half a loaf of bread and several slices each of ham and cheese. Naturally, I’d forgotten the mayo. She made us each a dry sandwich, and we chomped on them as we drove around for a while, seeing what there was to be seen. I finished mine before she got through hers, and I was still hungry.
“I thought you might be,” she said when I mentioned it. And she dug out the last third of the meat and cheese we’d brought—the third she’d reserved for the sandwich she then threw together for me.
There was still some space after I ate that second sandwich, but I thought it wiser not to mention it.
Continuing to explore, we spotted a few more trailheads, and we vowed to visit the ranger station in town to find Forest Service maps, so we could find our way around on the roads in the forest. We also wanted USGS topos, so we could find our way around when we were off the road.
We got lost, to the extent that we had no idea of where we were, a few times. But we always knew how to get back where we’d come from, so we weren’t thoroughly lost. I don’t know what we’d have done if we’d really gotten lost—there weren’t many people in the woods that day.
It was nearly half-past three when we got back to the house to find that Steph and Buck had gotten a lot of their stuff moved in. Not much remained, but what did was a little too heavy to carry comfortably—so we packed it into the car. It pretty much took up all the space except for the driver’s seat, so Mindy and the twins walked from their old house to my house while I drove the car over. The two places were close enough that they arrived before I could return to the car from carrying a load into the house.
When we’d gotten the car unloaded, it was still a little too early for supper. Steph and Buck had to get stuff unpacked and rearranged in their new quarters—but again, they refused help. So Mindy and I went upstairs, sat on the couch, and snuggled for an hour or so—listening to the thumps and bangs from the first floor as the twins moved things around to their satisfaction.
We took them out for dinner that evening, as we’d promised. We were still too young to get wine with our meals, though—and Mindy would remain too young for just over another two years. But there was plenty of wine back at the house—on both floors.
Monday, May 16, 1988–Friday, May 20, 1988
The week passed quickly, even though there was little to do. Buck and Steph spent a good bit of the week with the bits and pieces of moving in and with getting used to their new digs.
They were spared getting used to their new housemates, because we’d gotten close to them over the preceding six months. In fact, we’d spent so much time at their house (and in their spare bedroom) for the previous three months that we were already, for all practical purposes, housemates with them.
The house was large and about three-quarters of a century old. At some time in the distant past, someone had installed a bathroom downstairs and a kitchen upstairs, and that had made it possible for Ken to treat the two floors as a pair of separate apartments—instead of as a single dwelling.
There was a large foyer downstairs, from which two doors gave access to the lower floor, and from which the stairs mounted to the second floor. Frank and Earl, the seniors whose departure had vacated the lower floor, had kept the doors into their apartment closed—but there were no locks.
The four of us saw no reason to close those doors; we treated the entire house as if it was a single dwelling we all shared. I kept my old bedroom. Buck’s room was (officially, at least) the one that George had used the previous year. Steph officially adopted the room under Buck’s, and Mindy’s official room was under mine. But, of course, Mindy and I always slept together and so did Buck and Steph. We tried to spread things out a bit, so that all four rooms would look as though they were in use—should visitors drop by. But Mindy and I slept together upstairs; Buck and Steph downstairs.
The four of us found that having access to two kitchens and two bathrooms was handy. All in all, we were much more comfortable than we’d been during the spring semester—when we’d shared Buck and Steph’s house on a part-time basis.
On Friday morning, we all had breakfast together, and then Mindy walked over to Krojer to get us a few small grocery items we needed. She’d barely left the house when Steph cornered me upstairs.
“Under no circumstances,” she said, smiling, “are you to make a cake for Mindy’s birthday tomorrow.”
“You must have something in mind,” I said.
Her smile deepened. “Just wait and see,” she said.
I didn’t admit that I’d forgotten Mindy’s birthday. If I told Steph that, it would quickly find its way back to Mindy—and, even though I knew Mindy would forgive me, I didn’t need that.
While I was reorganizing my plans for the day, Steph headed back down to the first-floor apartment. But just before she started down the stairs, she turned around and looked back at me. “You two are invited to dinner downstairs tomorrow. At six o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.” she said, smiling. And then she descended.
Steph had no sooner left than I ran out to the car and drove downtown.
The thing I’d wished most that I’d had on my NOLS trip, now almost three years earlier, was a camera. On one of the occasions that Mindy had talked me into window-shopping, I’d noticed, at a camera shop downtown, a tiny Pentax single lens reflex camera that used 110-format film. That, and a dozen film cartridges, I figured, would make a perfect birthday present for a little sister who would soon be taking her own NOLS course.
I managed to get home before Mindy was in sight, and I even got the car parked in the same spot I’d left from.
That afternoon, the house was filled with the aroma of a baking cake—emanating from the downstairs kitchen. Mindy, quick as always, put two and two together—especially when Buck wouldn’t let her into the kitchen where Steph was working.
Mindy came back upstairs with a big grin on her face. “It smells like it’s chocolate. I hope it is,” she said.
There is no hiding some secrets, I guess. But tiny little SLRs are easily hidden.
Saturday, May 21, 1988
We awoke together, naked, at about eight that morning. I was lying on my left side, and she’d backed up to spoon against me. My morning wood fit nicely between her thighs and against her groin, and my right hand cupped her left boob. (It wasn’t the first time we’d awakened that way, and I hope the last time is still a long way off.)
As consciousness came to us, my hand began kneading and her hips began rocking. We moaned slightly, simultaneously.
“What you’re doing to my boob really feels good,” she muttered. She was only half awake.
“What you’re doing to my cock feels pretty good, too,” I answered. I was also only half-awake.
We lay there for a few minutes, each enjoying the closeness and the feel of the other’s naked body.
And then I remembered. “Happy birthday, nineteen-year-old,” I whispered. And I planted a big sloppy wet kiss on the back of her neck.
“Thanks, lover,” she whispered. “I wish I didn’t always have to piss when I wake up in the morning. I’d give you a birthday present!”
“Isn’t that backwards?” I asked. “I’m the one who gets to give you a birthday present.”
She was already sliding out of the bed. “We’ll see about that,” she said, and headed for the bedroom door. “It’s nice to not have to put clothes on before I head for the bathroom,” she added as she left the room. Now, we didn’t have to worry about the wrong one of them seeing one of us naked. Not that we worried very much about that—they were our dear friends.
I lay there for a few minutes. Shortly, I heard her flush the toilet, and then she reappeared in the bedroom. “Your turn,” she said.
“I definitely prefer the view when you walk toward me naked,” I said. “Not that the view when you’re going away isn’t nice…”
She grinned at me as she crawled back into bed; it was a dirty grin. “Go take your morning piss,” she said. “And then we can think about sharing a ‘birthday present’.”
When I got back, my cock had shriveled, as it always did when I tried to piss through a hard-on. As I approached the bed, she looked at it in mock dismay. “It shrank!” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said, as I climbed in behind her and took her into my arms again. “We’ll soon rectum-fie it.”
She snorted. “Moron,” she said. “That word is ‘rectify’. It means to correct something.”
“No,” I said, as I reached down and placed my glans against her asshole. My tool had already stiffened from her closeness and my evil thoughts. I pushed a little. “I’m thinking that we’re going to rectum-fie my cock this morning. It means—”
“Ow!” she complained. “I can guess what it means.” Her asshole was dry, naturally, and she’d jumped a little when my boner prodded it. But I’d definitely felt her anal sphincter relax a bit—as though she wanted to let me in. “I’d like that. But not without lube, we aren’t, Bub,” she said.
I rolled over and reached into the drawer of the nightstand that stood on my side of the bed. I pulled out a half-full tube of KY jelly and said, “Lack of lube is something we really can rectify—so that we can do some rectum-fying.”
When I returned by rolling over onto my back, the tube in hand, she gave me an elbow in the ribs for that. It was better aimed than usual, but still not very high on the pain scale. “Oof,” I said, meaning it a bit more this time than other times.
But she rolled over to face me, grinning nastily, and she reached for the tube. And after she took the tube from my hand, her head disappeared under the blankets.
An instant later, I felt the wet heat of her mouth engulfing the full length of my cock. I groaned as all of the tone went out of my muscles, leaving me limp on the mattress, unable to make any voluntary motions. Involuntary motions were another story: My hips began rocking, driving me in and out of her mouth. She responded, and her head moved up and down in opposition to the motion of my hips.
That couldn’t last long, and we both knew it: Even if she’d been able to breathe well while she ate me, the oxygen under the covers wouldn’t last for very long. And, if it lasted too long, I wouldn’t. So, after a minute or two, I felt her take me out of her mouth and kiss my glans. As I regained control of my body, her head popped out of the covers again—if anything, her grin was nastier.
She got up onto her knees, threw the covers off of us, and opened the tube—which was still in her hand. She put a dab of lube on her right index finger, reached down between her legs, and swirled it around her asshole. Then she extended all four of the fingers on her right hand, and put another, larger, dollop on them. She looked me in the eyes and her grin got even dirtier. She kissed me briefly, and then she spread the lube all over my rock hard cock. Pulling a Kleenex from the box on her nightstand, she wiped her hand and then lay down on her left side again, still to my left, with her back to me. I rolled over toward her.
I felt my cock—now harder than it’d been yet that morning—slide along her lubricated crack. I slid my left arm under her and took her little body into my arms—crossing my forearms in front of her so that each of my hands reached diagonally across her front and cupped one of the little boobs I loved so much. Gently, I massaged them.
She rocked her hips a few times, sliding my slippery cock along her crack even more. I responded by rocking my own hips. She moaned a happy little moan; so did I. I continued to knead her tits—still gently, but more firmly than before. I planted another big, sloppy, wet kiss on the back of her neck.
And then she raised her right leg. Her right hand, reaching between her thighs, grasped my slippery cock—not without some difficulty—and guided my glans to her asshole. She pushed herself back against me while her hand held my stiffness against her entrance. I pushed back.
As always, the tight muscular ring resisted penetration—but not for long. Suddenly, it yielded, and the head of my cock surged into the grasp of that snug little band. She groaned a bit, as if in pain.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“Almost,” she said. “We don’t have the angle right, so it hurts a little. Slide down the bed a few inches.”
I did as instructed, leaving the head of my cock in her.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now it’s starting to feel good.” And she showed me by pushing against me some more to get me deeper in her. She brought her right thigh back down against her left, strengthening the already tight grasp her body had on my cock.
We lay there, joined, for a minute or two. She moaned her pleasure softly, and I responded in kind. I felt her groin move slightly, rhythmically; she was stroking the folds of her cunt with her right hand. It wasn’t long before my hips started rocking gently—driving my cock in and out of her. Her own hips returned the motion, and soon we were pounding against each other.
The clasping circle of her sphincter, sliding, sliding, sliding up and down my rigid cock was more than I could bear for long. Soon, very soon, my cock exploded in her depths, my cum boiled into her, again and again and again, and I knew nothing else.
When my awareness of my surroundings returned, her little body, still in my arms, was rigid with her own orgasm. Rhythmic constrictions of her sphincter milked my cock, doubling and tripling the pleasure her body was still giving me. I held her tightly against me, and she groaned—almost sobbed—in my arms.
Gradually, her breathing became more regular as she slowly returned to me. The contractions of her asshole around me became gentler. My hands still held her boobs; gently I continued to knead them, and soon, her sphincter’s motions synchronized with the movements of my hands. Her right hand, still wet with her juices, stroked my right arm where it crossed over my left arm in front of her. Otherwise, she seemed almost in a trance.
We lay there a while, recovering. When she, too, had regained control of herself, she whispered, “I know that people think doing it this way is nasty, but I sure do like it.”
“I like it, too,” I whispered back. “I like your cunt even better, but it’s nice to do it this way sometimes.”
“Hunh!” she snorted, and I felt her ass contract strongly around me. “You just like having your thing in something warm, tight, and slippery.”
“Hunh, yourself!” I replied. “You just like having a thing in any of your warm, tight, slippery places.”
She wiggled back more tightly against me and I tightened the grasp of my arms around her. “Mmm-hmm,” she moaned her affirmation. “There might be something to that. Especially your thing.” She turned her head toward me, and her lips searched for mine. My cock was still stiff, still embedded in her ass, so it was a stretch, but our lips found each other for another soft, gentle kiss.
There was little we had to do that day, so we lay there for a while, connected, sharing our bodies with each other. Faintly, in the background, I heard the noise of someone—who I guessed was Buck—moving around downstairs. Slowly, in spite of its surroundings, my cock shrank—but the grip of her sphincter held me inside her. “We’re going to have to get up sometime,” I said, eventually. “Not that I really want to. But I’m getting hungry.”
“I’m hungry, too,” she said. “But I really like to lie here so close to you. Your arms feel so good around me. I like to feel your hands working on my boobs. And I like having your cock up my ass.”
“I like the way your ass is squeezing my cock. But all good things must come to an end,” I said.
“Mmm-hmm,” she moaned again. But this time there was a naughty undertone. She waited a few seconds—probably so that I could build up some anticipatory dread. And then she went on, “Your good thing sure did come to my end!“
I almost choked. But I wasn’t about to let her get away with that one. “Next time we fuck,” I said, “you should have some Coke while we do it.”
“Hunh?” she said. The suggestion had taken her completely by surprise.
“As everyone knows,” I said, “‘Things go better with Coke!’”
She tried to elbow me in the ribs as she pulled away to get out of bed. But my arms were in the way.
It was well after 9:30 by the time Mindy and I had shared a shower, changed the bed, gotten some breakfast, and gone downstairs to see what the twins were up to. If it was something private, we knew, a bedroom door would be closed—so we weren’t worried about catching them up to no good. They had the same understanding about our activities upstairs.
We found them finishing up their breakfast dishes. Buck had been up for a few hours, and even Steph was up. She had already showered and dressed—though she was still a little bleary-eyed.
“Good morning,” Buck said when he saw us. He was smiling slyly. Steph, too, was grinning.
Mindy and I returned his greeting.
“Happy birthday, Mindy,” Steph said, and Buck echoed it.
After Mindy had thanked them both, Buck looked directly at us and said with a grin, “That must have been some shower.”
“Ulp!” Mindy said, somewhat more than slightly embarrassed. “Were we that loud?”
I just smiled back at them.
“Well,” said Buck, still grinning, “We could hear the water running in the pipes, so we knew somebody was taking a shower. I won’t mention any names, but somebody upstairs made a lot of racket during that shower. Probably two somebodies from the sound of things. Lots of whooping and laughing, if you know what I mean.”
Mindy looked mortified.
“Steven Rogers Young! Stop teasing them!” Steph said severely—coming to Mindy’s rescue. She swung the dishtowel in her hand at him; it connected, but failed to do any noticeable damage. “You know damn well that they’re going to hear things like that from our shower. Among other places.” Now she was grinning broadly.
“It’s nice,” Buck said, “to be at home with you two. Isn’t it, Steph?”
Mollified, Steph laid her dishtowel down and stepped up against Buck. She put her arm around him and looked over at where Mindy and I were standing together. “It really is,” she said. And she reached up and kissed Buck on the lips. That kiss extended into deep time, and her hands stroked the sides of his body.
Before they had a chance to break off what they were doing, I pulled Mindy against me, front to front. She came happily into my arms. She placed her arms on top of mine and looked up at me expectantly—knowing what was about to happen. I didn’t disappoint her; I bent over and kissed her at least as thoroughly as Buck was kissing Steph.
When they were done with the dishes, we sat down at the table with them and told them about our plans for the first part of the summer. We were going to leave for Fort Collins on Monday, we told them. There were a number of loose ends we needed to tie up, including an uninhabited house that needed care and a car we weren’t sure what to do with.
We hoped to be back with the two of them by mid-June. Then we’d get Mindy ready for her NOLS course, and we’d need to get her to Lander, WY, for the start of her course early in the morning on the thirtieth of June. I planned, I told them all, to drive her there. Then I’d be at loose ends for almost all of the month of July. Most of it, I reckoned I’d spend pining for my sister. But I’d probably figure out something else to keep myself busy, at least part of the time.
“Share some of that time with us,” Steph said. “Please don’t try to spend that whole month by yourself.”
She didn’t say it, but I knew that she didn’t want me to be alone for so long so soon after our parents’ deaths.
I smiled at her. “There’s nobody other than Mindy that I’d rather be with than you two,” I assured her. (As long as I said it to her, and not to Buck, it probably wasn’t a violation of the Fundamental Code.)
After we quit the twins’ apartment, we spent the bulk of the day just hanging out and enjoying the lack of pressure that resulted from school being no longer in session. We made a trip to a hardware store to pick up a few odds and ends (I can’t even remember what they were), and we strolled about the now-empty campus. And, throughout the afternoon, tantalizing food smells drifted up the stairs and whetted our appetites. As we were getting some clean clothes on to go downstairs for dinner, Mindy couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. It was infectious, and I found myself smiling back at her.
In the middle of changing, she stepped up close to me, looked up at me, and put her arms around my neck, grinning. She was wearing only a yellow pair of the little bikini panties she favored, and I had on only a pair of boxers. Her little boobs rested against the upper part of my belly—and caused turmoil in my boxers.
I put my arms around her, and she flowed against me. She was still looking up at me, expectantly, now. I bent down and kissed her, deeply. Time stopped, and I knew only the feeling of her nearly naked little body against my skin.
When we came up for air, I looked into her deep blue eyes again. “Bet you can’t guess what I’m thinking,” I said.
Her smile deepened. “You’d lose that bet, Buster,” she said. “That thing you’re doing your thinking with is poking me in the gut.” And, grinning evilly, she wiggled against my boner.
“Maybe,” I offered, “it should poke you a little lower.”
I kissed her again, and, again, she melted in my arms. When we ended that kiss, she tried, half-heartedly, to push herself away from me. She gave me a longing look and said, “I love you, and I’m thinking it, too. But they’re waiting for us, and Steph’s been working for days to get this meal ready. We can’t be late.”
I held on for another moment, looking her in the eyes again. “I love you back,” I said. “Lucky for me, you’ll be here tonight!”
She smiled up at me. “Lucky for me, too!” And then she did push herself away.
We quickly got dressed. I put on a maroon dress shirt and a clean pair of Levis. Mindy put a little light green dress on. It came only to the middle of her thighs. She caught me admiring her legs and smiled prettily at me. I licked my lips and smiled back. She knew exactly what I was thinking; she grinned.
At six on the dot, we tromped down the stairs and into the other apartment. We could see through one of the doors from the foyer that neither of them was in their living room, so we went to the other door. As we stepped through that door into the downstairs hallway, I rapped on the open door and yelled “Hello! We’re here!”
Buck came from the kitchen. “The guest of honor and her escort are here,” he yelled back to Steph.
A moment later, Steph stepped out of their kitchen, and the two stepped forward to greet us. Buck and I exchanged a handshake while Steph and Mindy hugged each other. Then Mindy and Buck traded a substantial hug and kiss, while Steph and I did the same.
Steph led us into their living room, while Buck disappeared back into the kitchen. But we’d hardly been seated when Buck reappeared with a tray upon which were four mismatched champagne flutes and a cold bottle of prosecco. He proceeded to work the cork out of the bottle (with a resounding “pop”) and fill each of the glasses. He handed the filled glasses around.
Then, picking up the fourth glass, he turned to us and raised it. Looking straight at Mindy, he said, “To my second favorite woman. Happy Birthday!”
We all clinked our glasses. Steph and I both looked at Mindy and echoed, “Happy Birthday!” And, as we all took a sip, my little sister was as radiant as I’ve ever seen her. Nobody outside our family had ever made such a fuss over her before, and she was enjoying herself immensely.
Mindy and I sat together on the couch. Buck sat down in a chair, and Steph disappeared into the kitchen. We’d only had time for another sip of prosecco when Steph was back with an antipasto platter of cheeses, crackers, and meats.
When the prosecco was gone and the antipasto plate had sustained heavy damage, we moved into the kitchen—where the meal began in earnest. There was small dish of spaghetti with marinara sauce, followed by chicken cacciatore served with steamed zucchini. There was a substantial salad. Of course, soave (white, for the women) and valpolicella (red, for the men) flowed freely.
Just when Mindy and I thought we were suitably stuffed, Steph brought out a “first dessert” of cheese and fruit. More prosecco flowed freely.
We moved to the living room and chatted for an hour or two. And then, once our meals had settled a little to make some room, Steph disappeared into the kitchen yet again. But before she left, she directed Mindy to sit in the green easy chair—which had a bare little coffee table in front of it. After a few minutes, we heard her call: “Would you turn out the lights, Steve?”
As Buck moved to comply, I glanced at Mindy. She was so excited she couldn’t sit still; her little body squirmed and wiggled. She looked like a kid at Disneyland trying to decide what to do next.
And then, Steph’s clear soprano voice came from the kitchen. She was singing the “Happy Birthday” song, and we could see—faintly at first, but more strongly as Steph approached—candlelight on the walls of the hall. Buck and I joined in the song, and Steph entered the room just as we began the third “Happy birthday to Mindy” line of the song. She bore in front of her a large, dark brown cake with nineteen blazing candles on it. She set it on the coffee table in front of my little sister—whose eyes sparkled and glittered in the candlelight—just as we finished the song.
“Oh, guys,” Mindy said, rather breathlessly. “You shouldn’t have done all this.”
“Don’t be silly,” Steph said. “Of course we shouldn’t. But we wanted to, and we did. Happy birthday.
“Now make a wish and blow out the candles.”
Mindy looked directly at me, and I could see that, even in her euphoric state, her wish involved me. (I had a pretty good guess as to what that wish was.) And then she looked again at the cake, bent forward, and blew ferociously. All nineteen of the candles went out and the other three of us cheered in the darkness.
A moment later, Buck found the switch on the light by his chair, and the darkness vanished. Mindy and I got our first good look at the cake. It was a three-layer cake covered with dark, chocolate frosting that, from the swirls Steph had gotten into it, looked very thick.
“Oh, Steph! It’s beautiful!” Mindy breathed.
“I’m glad you like it,” Steph said. “Just a minute.” She stepped back into the kitchen and returned with a cake knife and four small plates and forks. “OK, Birthday Girl,” she continued. “You can do the honors.”
Mindy pulled the candles out of the cake and cut two large pieces and two merely big pieces—using almost half the cake in the process. She gave one of the big pieces to Steph and one to herself. The large pieces went to Buck and to me. Steph handed each of us a fork, and we dug in.
My sister Scarlett and I sat in silence in the tall grass, watching our bobbers float motionlessly on the glass-still water. I don’t think they’d drifted an inch in the past hour. There was no breeze. It wasn’t too hot, though, because of the clouds.
I rolled a joint, and we passed that back and forth till it was gone, and then we just sat and listened to the birds twitter in the trees. After a while, I realized the leaves weren’t rustling, which I thought was strange. Usually when you’re around trees, you can hear the leaves rustling.
Our worms had been underwater for quite a long while. I wondered if they were still alive down there. Poor things. From their point of view, I guess we were pretty evil, impaling them on big barbed hooks like we did, and casting them into the bass-infested waters.
I kind of hoped no fish would bite. I was pleasantly stoned, and I’d gotten accustomed to the stillness. A hooked fish would make a commotion, and I didn’t want to deal with that. On top of which, a fish would be wet and slimy, whereas I was nice and dry. So, I imagined I had telepathy, and I beamed a warning to all the fishes about the dangers lurking in our dangling worms. This seemed to work, because neither Scarlett nor I got so much as a nibble all afternoon. Anyway, I was hungry for beef.
Out of the blue, Scarlett broke the silence. “Are you a virgin,” she asked.
This was an odd question for many reasons. First of all, I believe it’s generally not usual for eighteen-year-old brothers and sisters to converse about their sex lives. But even if I’m wrong about this, and it is usual for siblings to speak freely of their sexual exploits, this was certainly not the case in our family. Our family would talk about politics, science, philosophy, and whatever else have you. But if there’s one thing we didn’t discuss, it was sex. Not once, ever. Our Scandinavian ancestors had given up Protestantism several generations earlier, but the ethos still lingered in certain respects.
Also, this was an unusual question because of Scarlett herself. She was a perfectly asexual being, I’d always believed. Not because she was ugly or defective or anything. In fact, she’s strikingly beautiful. It’s just that she’d always seemed too pure and ethereal to give any thought to fleshy matters. She’d never shown the slightest interest in boys, not the ones at school, nor even celebrities. There were no posters of sullen actors or effeminate boy bands hanging from her walls. She hated sappy love songs. She’d never been on a real date, as far as I knew. Earlier that spring, she did attend our senior prom, but her “date” was her gay friend Ben—who’s very, very gay, indeed—and her nerdy friend Fiona tagged along and made it a sexless trio.
So, that’s why I was so surprised when Scarlett all of a sudden asked me if I was virgin, for no reason that was readily apparent.
I didn’t especially want to answer this question. So, I squinted harder at my bobber and pretended I was so absorbed in my fishing I hadn’t heard her. But that didn’t work. She just asked again.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Kind of.”
“What do you mean ‘kind of?’ You’re either a virgin or you’re not, right?”
“Well, it’s complicated.”
“How is it complicated?”
“How ’bout them Packers?”
“Did you fuck Renee Tracy?”
I was a bit taken aback hearing my sister use the word fuck in a sexual context. It made me frown. “Why are you asking me this?”
“I just want to know. Why are you being such a prude?”
“I’m not a prude.”
“So, did you fuck Renee?”
“No, we did not have intercourse.”
“Does that mean you did other stuff with her?”
“Yeah, we did stuff.”
“Sexual stuff, I mean?”
“We made out a few times. That’s about it.”
“Did she give you a blow job?”
“Jesus, Scarlett. How do you even know about blow jobs?”
“Why would I not know about blow jobs? I didn’t grow up in a convent.”
“Well, she didn’t give me a blow job. I wish she would have, but alas…”
“What about Edith Orbeck? I heard you fondled her boobs at the homecoming dance.”
“I did’nt fondle her boobs. We were dancing, and she wanted to sneak behind the stage curtains. It was 100% her idea. So, we went back there, and we were kissing. My hands were around her waist, and she slid one of them up and put it on her boob.”
“Well, that’s fondling.”
“But not in a bad way.”
“She didn’t say it was bad.”
“She told you?”
“Jesus. Why do girls talk about that stuff?”
“I don’t know. We just do. She said you also fondled her butt.”
“Yeah, that part was my idea. Unfortunately, it was as far as I ever got with her.”
“What about Jenny Li? Did you fuck her?”
“Are you going to interrogate me about every girl in school?”
“I just want to know how you’re ‘kind of’ a virgin.”
“Well, it’s a tawdry tale. And I don’t want to dirty your ears.”
“My ears are pretty dirty already. I’m not as innocent as you think.”
“Well, fine, OK, I’ll tell you. But I can’t name any names. I’ll just say there was an older woman involved. A married woman.”
“Yeah, I know it’s bad. I feel like a douche about the whole thing, quite honestly. But I couldn’t help myself. Y’know? It’s always been a fantasy of mine to be seduced by a predatory older woman. A cougar. And she’s so sexy. So, yeah.”
“Was it Mrs. Flory?”
“Jesus! There aren’t any rumors going around, are there?”
“I don’t think so. I just guessed.”
“How could you possibly…?”
“Well, one day, I saw you coming out of her classroom, and she was sitting inside at her desk, and the way she was looking at you as you walked out the door… It made me think ‘hmmm.’ But then I forgot about it until just now, when you said about an older woman. And she is sexy. I can see how you’d want to commit adultery with her.”
“She’s fucking gorgeous. That face. It’s like something out of a painting. And then she’s got those great big floppy titties with the freckles all over her chest. Mmmm.”
“Isn’t her husband a policeman?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I can picture how it happened. You were working on the yearbook staff, in that little closet in the back of her classroom with the computers. It was getting close to the printer’s deadline, and you were working late nights finishing up the layouts. Mrs. Stone stayed to offer her expert advice. And it was just you and her alone in that little closet…”
“Well, yeah, that’s kind of right. I first got to know her through working on the yearbook staff. Except the flirting started almost from the moment we met. We had instant chemistry.”
“Did you bend her over that big oak desk?”
“Sadly, nothing really naughty ever happened in the classroom. Too dangerous. Even late at night, there may be janitors lurking about, or the occasional stray student or faculty member.”
“So, I guess she’d take you to one of those sleazy motels on the highway? Smitty’s, or the Spread Eagle?”
“Haha, no. She had a, um, sympathetic friend. A lady who would actually let us borrow her house for our trysts. She’d clear out and go to the movies, or whatever.”
“Wow, that was nice. I bet it was Miss Flory, wasn’t it?”
“You’d make a frighteningly good detective.”
“It’s just that I always see those two hanging around together at school. I’ve actually kind of wondered if they were lovers sometimes. Something about their body language.”
“Uh, I don’t think so. But that would have been amazing. A threesome with two hot bisexual teachers.”
“I kind of get the feeling Miss Flory isn’t bi.”
“Hmm, well, those two are definitely tight-knit. Miss Flory would even cook us dinner sometimes. Really good dinners, with candles and everything. It was like a fancy restaurant. She’d serve us our food, give us a little wink, and then off she’d go. She didn’t seem to mind the bodily fluids we were about to spill all over her bed.”
“So, then, you’re definitely not a virgin? You totally fucked Mrs. Stone?”
“Well, that’s the weird part. Just about anything you can imagine that two people could do with their bodies, we did it, Liz and I—Mrs. Stone, I mean. She’s a bona fide freak. We did stuff you don’t even want to know about. Filthy, perverted stuff. But the one thing we never did do was to actually fuck. At least, not technically. I mean, I fucked different parts of her body, but just not her pussy.”
“Did you do anal?”
“Scarlett, please tell me you don’t know about anal.”
“I do know about anal. Sorry.”
“Uggh. That’s unfortunate.”
“It’s a very erogenous zone. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Yes, well, maybe. But, no, Liz and I, we didn’t do genuine anal. I mean, I kind of fucked her ass cheeks, but not her actual ass. If that makes sense.”
“Like a hot dog in a bun, but not like a screw in a nut.”
“Exactly. That was her rule. No penetration. I fucked pretty much every part of her body that you could squeeze together—her butt cheeks, her tits, her thighs, even her armpits. But she wouldn’t let me put my dick inside her. I guess, that way, she felt like wasn’t technically cheating on her husband. Which was complete nonsense, of course. But she was adamant.”
“I understand exactly. She’s probably got penetration-phobia.”
“No, trust me, she loves being penetrated. With fingers, tongues, dildos, etcetera—she’s probably got the world’s foremost collection of dildos and vibrators—in each and every one of her orifices. She just wouldn’t let me put my dick inside her. It was very frustrating and it made no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me.”
“No, it really doesn’t. Because, the thing is, every time when I was getting ready to cum, she would want me to get between her legs and cum all over her pussy. She’d even spread her lips so my sperm would go inside her. So, how does that make sense? If she wanted me to cum inside her, then why wouldn’t she just let me fuck her? I mean, the whole point of ‘thou shalt not commit adultery’ is so you don’t make babies with someone other than your spouse, right? It’s not about the technicalities of penetration.”
“Hmm. Was she on birth control?”
“I dunno. I’m worried about that, actually. I asked her about it a bunch of times, but every time she would just say, ‘Don’t worry about it,’ and change the subject.”
“Could she have been trying to get pregnant?”
“Possibly. To be honest, that’s kind of the vibe I got. It’s pretty fucked up if that’s true.”
“When was the last time you got together?”
“Like, two weeks ago. Just before graduation. And then suddenly, right after that, she said she couldn’t see me anymore. No explanations. That’s why I was in such a crappy mood at our graduation party, if you noticed.”
“Yes, you were being quite the poopyhead there for several days, as I recall.”
“You know what, though? If Mrs. Stone does get pregnant, I guess you could say it was a virgin birth.”
“Well, whatever. I don’t think her husband the cop would be quite as understanding as that dude from the Bible.”
“But if he made her take a lie-detector test, she could honestly say she’d never had extramarital sex.”
“Maybe, but that wouldn’t fool a DNA test.”
“No, I guess not.”
“So this is the thing, though. This is why I’m not actually sure if I could still be considered a virgin.”
“You never penetrated her, so yeah, you still are.”
“But I came directly inside her pussy like 40 times. Plus, I rubbed my dick all over her pussy lips, and the head definitely slipped inside her a few times, you know, like just a few millimeters or so, but I still think that might count.”
“No, it doesn’t count.”
“And also because of this: one of her favourite activities was that she would lay on her back, like missionary-style, and she’d squeeze her thighs together. Then I’d lay on top of her and put my dick between her thighs, right up in her bush, and I’d sort of fuck her like that. She had these big meaty lips, y’know, down there, and they’d wrap around my dick, and she’d get all wet and slippery, and it felt exactly like real sex. I mean, I’ve never had real sex, but I can’t imagine it feels any different. And then I’d cum all over her pussy.”
“Well, I’d still say you’re a virgin, technically. Even though you’re sexually experienced.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Kind of like me.”
“I’m a virgin, too, even though I’ve had sexual experiences. Just like you, I’ve even had adultery with a teacher. Kind of.”
“No! Say it isn’t so!”
“It’s so. But only with my hand.”
“I jerked off Mr. Hittle.”
“What? You jerked off Barney Rubble?”
“He doesn’t look like Barney Rubble. He’s sexy, kind of.”
“Oh, God! How could you?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“I’ve jerked off loads of guys.”
“Adam Rausch, Devin Sheets, Mike Christlieb…”
“You’ve jerked off all of my friends?”
“Pretty much, except for Tyler Stahlbeck. No offense, but he’s kind of a douche.”
“I’ll kill them! Why did you let those assholes take advantage of you?”
“They didn’t take advantage of me. I took advantage of them. I love wrapping my hands around a big cock, or a small cock, or a medium cock. I’m a total hand-slut. Stroking cocks gives me pleasure.”
“That’s fucking strange. I can’t comprehend.”
“Do you remember that week when Evan Gerber’s parents were out of town?”
“Yeah, when his grandma died.”
“And he had a party every night with his friends.”
“Yeah, those guys invited me. I didn’t go because they’re a pack of dorks. I’m sure those parties were nothing but sausage fests.”
“Exactly. I was the only girl.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me.”
“Yup. We’d always play strip poker, and somehow I always managed to lose. Those guys must have thought I was the world’s worst poker player, hehehe. Anyway, after I was out of the game, I had to find something new to entertain myself, so I’d get down underneath the table, and make my way around, one at a time.”
“Funny, they always switched to regular poker—with money—shortly after I was out of the game.”
“So, basically, our entire school knows you as this rampaging slut who will jerk off any penis that happens to pop up in front of you.”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“How is it that I’ve never been aware of this?”
“Maybe people didn’t tell you because they thought you’d be upset?”
“I’m a little upset.”
“I don’t see what’s so bad about making people feel good. The world would be a better place if more people would give each other pleasure.”
“So, we should all just go around masturbating strangers?”
“That sounds good to me.”
“So, how many of these losers have you fucked?”
“Zero. I told you, I’m a virgin. I like stroking cocks, but I don’t want one inside me. I don’t fuck. I don’t suck. I have penetration-phobia, sort of like you and Mrs. Stone. Except I don’t even want a penis to touch me, except in my hand.”
“This is all very unusual.”
“Yep, I have an unusual sexuality, I know. Also, I think I may be a lesbian.”
“I’m starting to think you’re just fucking with me. You’re making all this up, aren’t you.”
“No, I’m definitely not.”
“Have you ever been with a girl?”
“Remember when I went on that ski trip with Jeri Sunderland and her church group?”
“Well, the Holiday Inn where we stayed had a hot tub, and Jeri and I were sitting in it together, and my hand kind of drifted onto her thigh, and she didn’t seem to mind, so I ended up fingering her through her bathing suit. I had her right on the verge of orgasm, I think, when her brother Seth came along and plopped himself into the hot tub.”
“That must have been awkward.”
“A little, yeah.”
“I suppose you could’ve relieved the tension by jerking off Seth with your other hand.”
“Well, the Sunderlands are church folk.”
“Yeah. Anyway, when we got back to our room, I told Jeri I wanted to finish what we’d started. But she was really spooked by that point. And that’s why we’re not friends anymore.”
“That kind of sucks.”
“We weren’t that good of friends, anyway. But I would have loved to have fucked her.”
“You would eat another girl’s pussy?”
“Would you let a girl finger you?”
“What about your penetration-phobia?”
“It only applies to men.”
“I see. So, you’re a lesbian who likes to jerk off dicks.”
“You’re a strange girl, Scarlett.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same? I mean, what if all you had to do was ask, and almost any girl would let you rub her pussy and give her an orgasm. Wouldn’t you do it?”
“Then shut up.”
We sat and fished in silence for a while longer and smoked another joint. Then it started to rain. It was a warm summer rain, and not unpleasant, and the car was far away, so we just sat and got rained on until we were pretty well soaked. Then it stopped raining and the sun came out.
“If you want,” said Scarlett, “I could do you.”
I wasn’t sure what
“I mean I’d like to masturbate you.”
During our interlude, I’d decided that Scarlett had been definitely been pulling my leg about all her hand-jobbery, and probably the lesbianism too. She had a strange sense of humor like that. Besides, if any of it were true, I’d have heard rumors. And I’d never heard any rumors about my sister, at least not about anything sexual. So, I decided to call her bluff. “Yes, I would enjoy a nice handjob,” I said. I even started to unzip my fly, confidently expecting a look of horror to come over her face.
Which, it didn’t. Instead, Scarlett rolled over in the grass and slipped her fingers into the waistband of my cargo shorts. I was stunned into passivity, as if she’d bonked me over the head with a stick.
I noticed then that my bobber was twitching. It dipped sharply beneath the surface of the water, popped back up, and then went speeding off across the lake. I looked down and noticed also that my $100 fishing pole was slipping from my limp grip, but I failed to do anything, and it popped out of my hand (this all happened in a split second, but it felt like time was stretched). Then, as it bounced down toward the lake, its reel snagged against my sister’s $100 pole (which also belonged to me), lying abandoned in the grass, and both poles disappeared beneath the water.
“Wow, that must have been a big fish!” said my sister, who had somehow managed to yank my shorts down while I was distracted, and was now holding my erect penis in her hand.
“Um…” was the only protest I could manage.
“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” my sister sang back to me in her lovely soprano. She was kneeling beside me, her face inches from mine, and I could feel her cool breath in my ear canal, as my eardrum buzzed with the sound of her voice. “I’ve got your willy,” she whispered.
She held it strangely, with the tip of her index finger and thumb, like a specimen she was inspecting. She seemed to be measuring its girth. She measured it in several places up and down the shaft, and then poked at the soft head with her chipped red nail. “I never knew you had such a nice cock,” she said, finally.
I still couldn’t respond.
She made an O with her finger and thumb, and gripped my cock, using only those two fingers, tightly, around the most sensitive part of the shaft, just below the base of my head. Slowly, she began to move her fingers up and down, not sliding them across the surface of the skin, but actually gripping the skin and moving it up and down against the stiff inner workings of my cock.
I gasped. Scarlett slithered her tongue into my ear, and it felt like my brain was invaded by some wet, crackling mollusc. I was engulfed. A jolt of pure pleasure surged through every nerve in my body, as Scarlett skilfully worked my control knob with her fingers and murmured slurpy nothings directly into my brain.
But the stimulus soon grew too much, and I had to escape her tongue. I fell back into a reclining position, propped on my elbows, but my elbows trembled and gave way, and I fell all the way back into the grass, squirming and shuddering as Scarlett continued to work my cock.