I’d taken a shower the night before, but I wanted to do that again before stripping down in front of Heidi. I also wanted to change out of the tiger-striped briefs I was wearing at breakfast. I got them at a white elephant Christmas Party one year ago and since they fit me, I kept them. I wasn’t willing for Heidi to see me in them, though. Even if they were my smallest pair.
I got back to their house around one and, probably because I was nervous, rang the bell for once. I heard teenaged feet galloping down the stairs inside the house with a shout of, “I got it.”
Heidi opened the door dressed in a white men’s button up shirt, splattered and stained with paint in a myriad of colors. Even so, it looked great on her, except that there appeared to be no shorts on underneath it.
“Uncle Sam!” she said. “Why’d you ring the bell?”
“I dunno,” I answered as my eyes raked up and down her body.
Noting my inspection, she said, “This used to be my dad’s. I use it as a smock, now. I’m about ready for you. Come on up.”
She turned from the door and bellowed, “Mom! Sam’s here,” and galloped back up the stairs toward the guest bedroom/studio.
Hannah walked from the back of the house, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Hi. Had any second thoughts about this since we last met?”
“A few dozen,” I said, smiling wanly. “Are you sure you don’t mind me posing in my undies for your daughter?”
“Why would I mind? I trust you.”
“Even though you know I’m not gay anymore?”
She smiled and slapped me on one shoulder.
“She has to learn about men somewhere. Better from you than some furtive boy full of hormones.”
“I’ll try to behave myself,” I said.
“I have no doubt you’ll be the ultimate gentleman.” She frowned. “If anything does happen, I don’t want you to be upset by it.”
“Happen?” My eyes widened. My little head, after seeing what was easily imagined as a naked girl wearing only an oversize man’s shirt, wanted all sorts of things to happen.
“You know … like what happened after you looked at my picture the other day.”
“Oh that,” I said. “I’m still a little embarrassed about that.”
“Don’t be. Like my daughter said, from you, it’s a compliment.”
“You’re very kind,” I said.
“What I am is very …” She stopped, suddenly. “Never mind. Go have fun. I’ll check in on you later to make sure she’s behaving herself.”
I found Heidi fiddling with paints. Apparently I was to be rendered in living color. Not only that, but apparently she didn’t want to get her ‘smock’ stained, because she’d taken it off. I saw that, under it, she’d been wearing a tiny bikini. I was apparently staring, because she said, “I like working in this. It doesn’t bind. You’ve seen this suit before anyway.” Having dealt with that issue, she went on. “I don’t have a dressing room,” she said. “If you want to you can change in the bathroom.”
I imagined tiptoeing through the hallway in my tighty-whities and running into Hannah. I was already half stiff from looking at Heidi in her too-small, neon-pink bikini. I didn’t take the time to reflect on how Heidi had to know how that bikini affected members of the opposite sex. If I had, I’d have formed a suspicion that she wore it on purpose. If I’d thought about the fact she’d taken her “smock” off before starting, it would definitely have formed suspicions. But I wasn’t thinking very well at that moment.
“I’ll just get undressed here,” I said.
“Fine by me,” she said, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
I’d come up with a plan to “handle” the anticipated problem of erections. I’d worn an old jock strap under my briefs. The problem was, now that I was in fact trying to “handle” an anticipated problem, that the operative term in describing my security feature was “old”. The elastic wasn’t very … elastic … any longer, having deteriorated somewhat. In other words, the jock wasn’t doing its job. I faced away from Heidi and skinned out of my shirt and pants, kicking off my shoes. I bent over to remove my socks and then, surreptitiously, reached inside shorts and jock to tuck things deeper between my legs. Ironically, I had to actually, literally ‘handle’ the problem.
I finally turned around and presented myself for whatever came.
Heidi appraised me with a critical eye.
“Have you lost weight?” she asked.
“A little,” I said.
“I remember you having more body mass.”
“From when?” I asked.
“From the last time I saw you at the pool,” she said. “You look better. More buff.”
“Thank you,” I said, happy that my attempt to cut down on calories and bump up the burning of them had apparently worked.
“I think this will work out very well,” she said. “Lie down on the bed.”
“I thought I’d be sitting on a chair,” I said.
“I can’t display your boy parts if you’re sitting down. And if I make you stand, you’ll get tired and move around. So lie down on the bed, please.”
She put me in much the same position her mother had been, using the same bolster. But she wanted my top leg bent with the heel on the bed. It opened up my crotch completely. What she’d done with her mother had been alluring, mysterious in a way, hiding the good stuff in shadows. With me, it seemed she wanted to make it look like I was bragging. She even had me lay my wrist on my waist, with my hand hanging down, almost as if I were drawing attention to my manhood, saying, “See there? What do you think of that? Pretty impressive, don’t you think?” I wondered if she’d paint a smirk on my face.
She stood studying me for a few minutes and then picked up a pencil and started sketching.
“I thought you were going to use paints,” I said.
“I need to get the shape roughed out, first,” she said. “Don’t distract me. I want this to be as good as Mom’s.”
Actually, the not talking part worked out pretty well. I didn’t have to think up things to talk about and she was behind the easel most of the time, so ogling her wasn’t possible. I began to relax and not worry so much about my errant little friend in my not-very-tight jock strap.
We had been working about an hour when Hannah stuck her head in the door.
“How’s it going , guys?” she asked.
“So far so good,” Heidi replied, never looking up. She had begun to fill in her original drawing with paints, and was brushing them on the canvas with intense concentration.
“Not too bad actually,” I said.
“I brought up some lemonade and cookies if you guys are ready for a break.”
“Sounds great,” I countered.
“Yeah, I could use a break, too. My shoulders are tense,” Heidi replied.
I sat up and swiveled around, resting my feet on the floor. I took a glass of lemonade gratefully and drank deeply. I had not realized how stiff I was getting.
“What’s the matter , dear?” Hannah asked her daughter, somehow knowing something was the matter.
“Nothing really, I’m just not getting it right.”
“How so?” Hannah moved to look at what Heidi had done thus far. “Hmmm. Saving that for last?”
I had no idea what she was talking about until Heidi sighed and spoke.
“Okay, okay, so maybe I don’t have as good an imagination as I thought I did.”
“For which your mother is most happy,” said Hannah.
“But Mom, how can I draw a penis when I’ve never seen one before?”
“Another thing your mother is delighted about. But don’t tell me you and your friends haven’t peeked at things on the internet. I’m told everybody does, and long before they get to your jaded age.”
“Well sure, but it’s not like you get to stare at it, or study one. Besides, the ones you see there aren’t normal. Soft, I mean. What am I supposed to do? I don’t want that part of it to look like something a five-year-old drew.”
“I don’t even want to think about five-year-olds drawing things like that. But I understand the problem. Maybe Sam would help you out if you asked him politely.”
I perked up at that and stood up.
“You can’t look at this yet!” said Heidi, sternly. “It’s bad luck.”
“True,” said Hannah, staring at what I wasn’t allowed to look at. “She didn’t let me see mine until it was finished.”
“Help her out with what?” I asked, as if I hadn’t heard the whole conversation.
“Don’t be coy, Sam,” said Hannah.
“What happened to ‘Sam might get uncomfortable and need to take a break’?” I said, affecting a falsetto voice.
“Have you needed to take a break, yet?” she asked, staring at me.
“Well, no, but I wasn’t naked,” I said. “It might not even be legal for me to be naked!”
“We’re not going to call the police, Sam,” said Hannah. “From what I can see, this is going to be beautiful, but right now there’s this big white spot in the middle of things and if it stays that way it’s going to ruin it. Just think about this critically. She needs a model and she needs all the model because she’s been a good girl and hasn’t gone out and looked at … inappropriate … things.”
“So I’m supposed to show her my inappropriate thing?”
“I wouldn’t characterize yours as inappropriate,” said Hannah. “You’re a gentleman.”
“I won’t be if I strip naked and pose for a sixteen-year-old babe,” I groaned.
“I’m not a baby!” yelled Heidi.
“He didn’t say baby,” said Hannah, patting her daughter’s shoulder.
“What? Oh.” Heidi grinned. “Thank you!”
“You can’t be serious about this,” I said, looking with pleading eyes at Hannah.
“Would you feel better if I stayed here?” she asked.
“Not in a million years,” I gasped, without thinking first.
“I see,” she said.
I hoped she did not see, because if she really could see what was going through my mind, she’d throw me out and never let me come back.
“Of course we can’t force you to do this,” said Hannah.
“But what am I going to do?” wailed Heidi.
“I know a man at the bank,” said Hannah. “He’s asked me out once but I told him I wasn’t ready to start dating again. He’s the type of man I think would be … eager … to let you study his … penis.”
“That’s not fair,” I groaned.
“What’s not fair?” asked Hannah, her voice full of false innocence.
“Sure, make it my fault that Chiong King the Molester gets a chance to flash Heidi,” I growled.
“Sam, we’re just trying to be sensitive to your concerns,” said Hannah.
“Can I speak with you privately for a minute?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Yes,” said both women at the same time. It was as if they’d practiced it.
“You stay here!” I barked, stabbing my finger at Heidi. I reached for Hannah’s elbow and, none too gently, gripped it, pulling her into the hallway and closing the door.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, fiercely.
“Do you think Heidi has promise as an artist?” asked Hannah.
“Of course she does,” I snarled.
“You can’t look at the painting,” said Hannah. “But if you could, you’d see that she’s done a magnificent job of creating a handsome, interesting man thus far. Except there’s this big white blob where what makes him a man should be. And she’s right, Sam. She needs to see the real thing or she’s going to do something amateurish and ruin the whole effect.”
“Hannah, you saw what happened when I looked at your painting. That happened because I think you’re a fucking knockout, okay? And your daughter is a younger version of you, okay? If I take these shorts and this jock off, you’re going to see just how much I … appreciate … you two.” I emphasized ‘appreciate’, putting not a little sarcasm into it. “How do you think that’s going to affect your innocent daughter? I like you two. I’d like to be able to stick around without things being all awkward from now on. There has to be some other way to work this out!”
“You’re wearing a jock strap?” Hannah’s lips turned up at the corners.
It was then that my mind played back my somewhat hastily spoken diatribe, and I heard “fucking knockout” and “take this jock off” and the amount of sarcasm I’d pumped into “appreciate” and realized that, once again, I’d run off at the mouth. All I’d have had to say was, “I want to help but I can’t do this,” and I’d have been fine. Instead, I’d dug a big, deep hole and flung myself inside.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw a jock strap,” giggled Hannah.
“Ha, ha,” I said, heavily.
She reached to grip my naked shoulders.
“You really are a gentleman,” she said, no longer smiling. “But I’ve known that for years, so I shouldn’t be surprised.” She let me go and stepped back. “Let me phrase things this way. The only other thing I can do is actually go find some man and ask him if he’ll whip it out for my sixteen-year-old daughter. Of course I don’t want to do that. I’m sorry I baited you like that, but I needed to get you to see how really stupid that would be. But asking you to do it isn’t stupid. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have such gentlemanly thoughts of you all the time like you think I do,” I said. “Either of you.”
“Oh?” Her voice sounded more curious than offended.
“We don’t need to go into that,” I said. “Suffice it to say that I’ve thought about you like a man thinks about a woman he finds appealing. And I mean really appealing.”
“You said both of us?”
“She’s growing up. So sue me. She’s just as beautiful and interesting as you are.”
“Why haven’t you told me this before, Sam?”
“Why? Well, gee, let me think. You married my best friend and, when he died, showed no interest in any other man. I got used to being around you and that you valued me for being helpful. And even though this fascination with you as females is only recent thing, I still haven’t had time to figure out how to moderate it, so if I pose naked, things will happen that I don’t intend to happen. I don’t have much of a life except for you two, and getting thrown out for admitting I like you a little too much in ways you don’t appreciate, doesn’t hold a lot of appeal to me. Does that about cover it?”
“I see. Well, as fascinating as all that is, we can talk about it later. For now, I need you to decide what you’re going to do about posing for Heidi.”
“You’re kidding. Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“I heard every word, Sam and I’m just going to say this one more time. I cannot think of any man on Earth that I’d feel comfortable about being naked in front of Heidi … except you, Sam. And if you get aroused, then that will just be some extended sex education for my daughter, who is going to see an erection sooner or later. If she has to see one, then I guess I’m just glad it will be yours and not Chiong King’s down at the bank.”
I blinked. How the hell do you respond to something like that?
Chapter Four
Hannah said she had to go take something out of the oven and that I should have a discussion with Heidi while she was gone. It was obvious Heidi was impatient as soon as her mother was out of the room.
“Come on, Uncle Sam,” she said. “It’s for art. It’s no big deal. Hundreds of guys pose nude for art classes every day. It won’t bother me and it’s okay with Mom, and it’s for my project… Please?”
I thought about suggesting that while “hundreds of guys pose nude for art classes every day, that probably isn’t under circumstances where the model is known to the artist or when the artist was only sixteen. But I knew that would sail right over her head. She didn’t actually want to negotiate about this.
“Here - would this make you more comfortable?” she asked when I didn’t answer her.
Before I could do anything she reached behind her and untied her bikini top. I watched with unbelieving eyes as the cups slid off her breasts like the cloth weighed ten pounds. Then she flicked at the ties on her hips and the hot pink triangle that had covered her there dropped as well. Her adolescent pussy was suddenly displayed in all its glory.
I didn’t know where to look. I mean I knew I should look away, but there was no chance of that. My eyes jittered, moving from her breasts (the nipples were brown, not pink) to a cleft that was amazingly easy to see, primarily because there wasn’t a single strand of hair to obscure anything. The term “bikini cut” flashed through my mind at about a million miles an hour, followed by the argument that a classic bikini cut didn’t remove all the hair, but then it didn’t matter because I couldn’t think of anything except gazing at her loveliness.
“Uncle Sam?”
My eyes finally went up to her face and some measure of control came back into my body. The look on her face was one of teenage angst, the kind I’d seen more than once when she was trying on a new outfit or a change in hair style and she was worried that it didn’t look good.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, automatically. That’s what I always said in those moments when her confidence was flagging.
“Oh,” she said. I saw her eyes change as the angst lessened, and my own eyes went back to ravaging her body.
She had that kind of flat stomach that young women have which, at least to a man (okay, to me) just screams out for something to swell it out, making it round as she creates life. Her hips were already ready to bear the weight of that baby and her legs looked longer than I’d ever seen them. My eyes slid back upwards, to what would feed that baby and I saw she was blushing from the upper swells of those mounds all the way up to her cheeks. Somehow that had made the nipples darker and her areolas were also more easily visible. They’d been a paler tan, just a little darker than her breast flesh, but now they had gotten more well-defined, somehow.
I think it was the fact that her nipples were as erect as any I’d ever seen in my life that caused the problem. The problem was that, while I’d known this girl all her life, and been her pal for most of that, there was no way I could merge what I was seeing into my memories of all those years. She was no girl. I couldn’t even believe she was under the age of eighteen.
But that wasn’t the real issue. The real issue was that I wanted to suck those nipples and fuck her until she screamed in orgasm.
“So … does this make you more comfortable?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“No,” I said, required to think about every muscle it took to get that word out. It involved the lungs, the throat, jaw, and tongue, even my lips, which I had to lick before I could speak at all. That one-word sentence was punctuated by an exclamation point made up of another of my muscles, which was trying to break free of an old jock strap and pair of Fruit of the Looms.
It was then that Hannah returned from the kitchen, to see how the “negotiations” were going. I turned to look at her when she came in. I could see by how her eyes widened that the negotiations had progressed much farther than she’d expected them to. Or in another direction.
“Heidi , whatever are you doing?” she asked. You couldn’t tell by her voice that she was surprised at all. I envied her self-control.
“I thought I could make him more comfortable by showing him that I don’t mind being naked in front of him,” said Heidi.
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Dear,” said Hannah. She looked at me. “You okay?”
“No,” I said again. I didn’t have to think about all those muscles to speak, this time.
“See?” she said, turning back to her daughter.
“Well what else was I supposed to do?” asked Heidi in frustration. “I just want to finish this stupid painting!”
Hannah came and stood in front of me. She spoke softly and leaned toward me. I watched her lips move. They looked soft and delicious.
“Why don’t we just show her what she’s done to you?” she asked. “Maybe it would get her attention and teach her some manners.”
I know that sounds silly now. I mean getting her attention would be a foregone conclusion, considering that, according to her, Heidi had never seen a real, live penis before. So the attention part would be obvious. It was the “teaching her some manners” part that now makes me want to laugh out loud. I mean, I get what Hannah was saying. She was frustrated, too, on a number of levels. But the concept of “teaching a teenage girl some manners” by displaying a rampant boner to her, pointing at it and saying something like, “See what you’ve caused now? Where are your manners, young lady?” sounds like something out of a bad sitcom. Now. Back then, with me not in full control of my mental faculties, it didn’t sound so crazy.
“You have to stay here,” I whispered.
“Of course,” she said.
“Okay.”
Hannah wasted no time. We’ve never actually talked about it, so I don’t know what was going through her mind at that moment. Perhaps she wanted to do the “shock and awe” approach. I do know that she turned to Heidi and said, “Okay. You want to be all adult about this and I applaud that. But your actions have consequences and you need to understand what those consequences are. Sam has agreed to what you’ve asked him to do. So get over here and take his shorts off.”
Actually, now that I think back on it, maybe it did get her attention, because she just stood there frozen for a few seconds.
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You’re the one who wants him nude,” said Hannah. “So get him nude.”
“Okay,” said Heidi, proving that she could recover from surprises faster by far than I could.
She came over and knelt in front of me. Her face was right in front of my bulge, which was painful by now. I couldn’t help but imagine her leaning forward to suck my dick. Don’t judge me.
She reached to pull at the elastic of the briefs and her fingers ran into the wider band of the jock.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“He’s wearing two things,” said her mother. “You should probably only remove one at a time.”
“Two things?”
“You’ll understand in a minute,” said Hannah.
Hannah had to pull the elastic as tight as it would go, but she got it over the tip of my cock and exposed the front of the jock.
“Hey. Is that a …?”
“Yes,” said her mother.
“That’s what guys wear in gym, right?” asked the curious girl.
“Yes.”
“I never understood why?” said Heidi.
“Think of it as a bra for a boy,” said Hannah. “You support your breasts with a bra. A boy supports his testes with a jock strap.”
“Oh.”
“And, if a boy gets an erection in gym, one of those is supposed to control it so nobody knows,” said Hannah.
“Oh,” said Heidi again, who was in the process of shoving my briefs down my legs. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“Which is why Sam wore one today,” said Hannah. “He suspected he’d get an erection and he wanted to control it, so you wouldn’t know it was there.”
“Oh,” said Heidi, a third time. “It’s not doing a very good job,” she pointed out.
The worn material in the jock strap wasn’t up to the task of controlling anything at all, and I had one of those diamond hardons. You know those pictures you’ve seen of bikini tops that are minuscule and stretched across really big breasts? You can see everything except the tips of the breasts, right? Well that’s sort of what my jock looked like. It was stretched so much that you could clearly see my balls hanging down, and some of the shaft of my penis.
Heidi’s hands went to the top of the front panel of the jock. It was already stretched as much as it would go so all she could do was pull it down, bringing my penis with it. I winced, but then she jerked things and, suddenly, my manhood was bobbing up and down right in front of her face. I actually saw her eyes go cross-eyed a little bit until she moved her head back.
The jock, now wrapped around my upper thighs, was forgotten as Heidi moved back a little more.
“Wow,” she whispered.
I looked up from my penis, which had stopped moving for the most part after nodding its head a couple of times. I imagined it saying, “Okay! I’m finally free! This is more like it. Now, where’s that delicious little naked girl I saw through your eyes a minute ago?”
It wasn’t difficult to personify my organ, actually. First of all it helped me pass the blame for my erotic thoughts to my little head. Second, while it wasn’t bouncing up and down anymore, it was still moving around. I think that was the result of blood pressure, and little movements my hips were making or something like that. The point is it was moving a little bit, sometimes up as I clenched the muscles designed not to let sperm rush through it, and back and forth a little bit. The effect was of a dog’s nose up in the air, sniffing around.
“Oh my,” sighed Hannah, breaking my concentration. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well …” I said. “I tried to warn you. Maybe I should put my shorts back on.”
“No!” yipped Heidi. Then, as if she’d just showed up, she said, “Wow!” again.
Heidi just stood there, but she wasn’t alone. Her mother stood beside her and the eyes of both women were pinned to my errant cock. I had never considered the aesthetics of my privates before, but was forced to consider them now as both women stared in what was clearly something along the lines of awe. I’m not unduly endowed, but somewhere in the average range I suppose. Neither am I vain about things though, as I suspect most men have, I measured myself one time. At that point I was 6½ inches long when fully erect with a diameter of not quite two inches. I’m not circumcised.
And yes, I felt stupid for measuring it.
“It’s so big!” Heidi whispered.
“No, it’s not,” I said. I think it was an automatic response. I’d have said the same thing if she’d said it was “so small”. Anything other than, “Well, thank goodness, that looks completely normal!” would have gotten that response.
“Yes, it is,” sighed her mother, whose tone of voice made it clear she was agreeing with Heidi, rather than arguing with me. I could see her nipples poking through her shirt now too, and it was apparent she’d gone sans bra that day.
So there I was, standing there with my little Blue Heeler’s nose up and sniffing. The “prey” wasn’t afraid of the dog, though, and hadn’t screamed and run away. Believe it or not, it was so surreal that it calmed me down a little. I mean my worst fear, that of Hannah pointing toward the front door with thunder on her face, hadn’t happened. So the worst was over … right?
“So I guess I should get back in my pose?” I suggested.
Heidi seemed to snap out of a dream.
“Yes! Lie down. I need to study you.”
I spoke to Heidi as I got back into position. “Are you going to put your suit back on now?” It was a suggestion, rather than a question.
“No,” she said, staring at my groin. “This feels really nice.”
I looked at Hannah, who was also still staring at my groin. It was a little amazing that she was that shocked … and yet not upset about it.
I resumed the pose she’d had me in and Heidi came over to stand and stare. She licked her lips, and my cock bobbed. Finally she returned to the easel and started doing things there.
Hannah fanned her face with a hand and smiled. I was pretty sure she was just trying to make me feel better.
“This is better,” said Heidi from behind her easel. “But there’s just one more problem. I can’t paint him like that.”
“I thought this was what you wanted,” I groaned.
“It is. I mean I need to see it, but I can’t render it looking like that. Think about it. In what museum have you ever seen a naked man depicted with a hardon?”
“Erection,” corrected Hannah.
“Okay, erection,” said Heidi.
“So you want him naked, but not hard,” said Hannah.
“Exactly. Though I’m not complaining about it, really. This has been really cool, getting to see him like that. But I really need him soft instead of hard.”
“Why don’t you let me talk to Sam about that. Give us five minutes and then come back in,” said Hannah.
“What can happen in five minutes?” asked the curious teen.
“Never mind that,” said Hannah. “Just give him time to relax a little.”
“Okay. I need a snack anyway,” said Heidi.
When the door had closed Hannah came over to the bed and sat down on the edge.
“So,” she said. “What do you propose we do about your naughty little friend?”
“Do?” This was all moving a little fast for me. This is not to say I wasn’t running along behind the wagon Hannah was perched on, as it trundled down the road. I was trying hard to keep up.
“Obviously something needs to be done to make things more … relaxed,” she said.
“Sweetie, you know I love you,” I said. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” she asked, sounding innocent.
“Have sex with me,” I said, trusting that I was reading things correctly. After all, she’d said that getting a boner for her was fine, but it seemed like this was moving kind of fast. I mean we hadn’t even gone out on a date, yet.
I saw her eyes widen and she leaned away from me.
“You want to do that?”
Something was wrong. She wasn’t purring and taking her clothes off.
“Well … if you do,” I said, sounding like I was closer to Heidi’s age than my own.
I honestly think that what happened then was the result of the fact that we knew each other so well. Had there been less history between us I’m quite sure things would have gone sideways and the whole train would have come off the tracks.
“I was thinking more of a hand job,” said Hannah, staring right into my eyes.
“Oh!” I said. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “I don’t think too clearly when I’m like … this.” I glanced down at Fido, who was still sniffing the air, waiting for somebody to be nice to him.
“I see,” she said. “Do you actually need any help with that?”
“Desperately,” I said. Actually it was my little head that made me say it. “I mean, I don’t want Heidi to have to arrange me in my pose again.” It was lame, but then at that point in time I was lame.
She actually smiled. She’d called me a “BSH” on more than one occasion, usually when I was feeding Heidi some wild story and claiming it was a hundred percent true.
“Yes. We wouldn’t want that, would we.”
I was red-faced, most likely with shame at having handled all this so poorly. But I’d been blindsided. I had no idea Hannah might have been willing to expand our relationship past where it had gone. Even now I wasn’t sure how much expanding she had in mind.
“You don’t have to help,” I sighed.
“And that’s why I’m willing to,” she said, reaching for my cock…… ….
Chapter Four
Hannah said she had to go take something out of the oven and that I should have a discussion with Heidi while she was gone. It was obvious Heidi was impatient as soon as her mother was out of the room.
“Come on, Uncle Sam,” she said. “It’s for art. It’s no big deal. Hundreds of guys pose nude for art classes every day. It won’t bother me and it’s okay with Mom, and it’s for my project… Please?”
I thought about suggesting that while “hundreds of guys pose nude for art classes every day, that probably isn’t under circumstances where the model is known to the artist or when the artist was only sixteen. But I knew that would sail right over her head. She didn’t actually want to negotiate about this.
“Here - would this make you more comfortable?” she asked when I didn’t answer her.
Before I could do anything she reached behind her and untied her bikini top. I watched with unbelieving eyes as the cups slid off her breasts like the cloth weighed ten pounds. Then she flicked at the ties on her hips and the hot pink triangle that had covered her there dropped as well. Her adolescent pussy was suddenly displayed in all its glory.
I didn’t know where to look. I mean I knew I should look away, but there was no chance of that. My eyes jittered, moving from her breasts (the nipples were brown, not pink) to a cleft that was amazingly easy to see, primarily because there wasn’t a single strand of hair to obscure anything. The term “bikini cut” flashed through my mind at about a million miles an hour, followed by the argument that a classic bikini cut didn’t remove all the hair, but then it didn’t matter because I couldn’t think of anything except gazing at her loveliness.
“Uncle Sam?”
My eyes finally went up to her face and some measure of control came back into my body. The look on her face was one of teenage angst, the kind I’d seen more than once when she was trying on a new outfit or a change in hair style and she was worried that it didn’t look good.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, automatically. That’s what I always said in those moments when her confidence was flagging.
“Oh,” she said. I saw her eyes change as the angst lessened, and my own eyes went back to ravaging her body.
She had that kind of flat stomach that young women have which, at least to a man (okay, to me) just screams out for something to swell it out, making it round as she creates life. Her hips were already ready to bear the weight of that baby and her legs looked longer than I’d ever seen them. My eyes slid back upwards, to what would feed that baby and I saw she was blushing from the upper swells of those mounds all the way up to her cheeks. Somehow that had made the nipples darker and her areolas were also more easily visible. They’d been a paler tan, just a little darker than her breast flesh, but now they had gotten more well-defined, somehow.
I think it was the fact that her nipples were as erect as any I’d ever seen in my life that caused the problem. The problem was that, while I’d known this girl all her life, and been her pal for most of that, there was no way I could merge what I was seeing into my memories of all those years. She was no girl. I couldn’t even believe she was under the age of eighteen.
But that wasn’t the real issue. The real issue was that I wanted to suck those nipples and fuck her until she screamed in orgasm.
“So … does this make you more comfortable?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“No,” I said, required to think about every muscle it took to get that word out. It involved the lungs, the throat, jaw, and tongue, even my lips, which I had to lick before I could speak at all. That one-word sentence was punctuated by an exclamation point made up of another of my muscles, which was trying to break free of an old jock strap and pair of Fruit of the Looms.
It was then that Hannah returned from the kitchen, to see how the “negotiations” were going. I turned to look at her when she came in. I could see by how her eyes widened that the negotiations had progressed much farther than she’d expected them to. Or in another direction.
“Heidi , whatever are you doing?” she asked. You couldn’t tell by her voice that she was surprised at all. I envied her self-control.
“I thought I could make him more comfortable by showing him that I don’t mind being naked in front of him,” said Heidi.
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Dear,” said Hannah. She looked at me. “You okay?”
“No,” I said again. I didn’t have to think about all those muscles to speak, this time.
“See?” she said, turning back to her daughter.
“Well what else was I supposed to do?” asked Heidi in frustration. “I just want to finish this stupid painting!”
Hannah came and stood in front of me. She spoke softly and leaned toward me. I watched her lips move. They looked soft and delicious.
“Why don’t we just show her what she’s done to you?” she asked. “Maybe it would get her attention and teach her some manners.”
I know that sounds silly now. I mean getting her attention would be a foregone conclusion, considering that, according to her, Heidi had never seen a real, live penis before. So the attention part would be obvious. It was the “teaching her some manners” part that now makes me want to laugh out loud. I mean, I get what Hannah was saying. She was frustrated, too, on a number of levels. But the concept of “teaching a teenage girl some manners” by displaying a rampant boner to her, pointing at it and saying something like, “See what you’ve caused now? Where are your manners, young lady?” sounds like something out of a bad sitcom. Now. Back then, with me not in full control of my mental faculties, it didn’t sound so crazy.
“You have to stay here,” I whispered.
“Of course,” she said.
“Okay.”
Hannah wasted no time. We’ve never actually talked about it, so I don’t know what was going through her mind at that moment. Perhaps she wanted to do the “shock and awe” approach. I do know that she turned to Heidi and said, “Okay. You want to be all adult about this and I applaud that. But your actions have consequences and you need to understand what those consequences are. Sam has agreed to what you’ve asked him to do. So get over here and take his shorts off.”
Actually, now that I think back on it, maybe it did get her attention, because she just stood there frozen for a few seconds.
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You’re the one who wants him nude,” said Hannah. “So get him nude.”
“Okay,” said Heidi, proving that she could recover from surprises faster by far than I could.
She came over and knelt in front of me. Her face was right in front of my bulge, which was painful by now. I couldn’t help but imagine her leaning forward to suck my dick. Don’t judge me.
She reached to pull at the elastic of the briefs and her fingers ran into the wider band of the jock.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“He’s wearing two things,” said her mother. “You should probably only remove one at a time.”
“Two things?”
“You’ll understand in a minute,” said Hannah.
Hannah had to pull the elastic as tight as it would go, but she got it over the tip of my cock and exposed the front of the jock.
“Hey. Is that a …?”
“Yes,” said her mother.
“That’s what guys wear in gym, right?” asked the curious girl.
“Yes.”
“I never understood why?” said Heidi.
“Think of it as a bra for a boy,” said Hannah. “You support your breasts with a bra. A boy supports his testes with a jock strap.”
“Oh.”
“And, if a boy gets an erection in gym, one of those is supposed to control it so nobody knows,” said Hannah.
“Oh,” said Heidi again, who was in the process of shoving my briefs down my legs. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“Which is why Sam wore one today,” said Hannah. “He suspected he’d get an erection and he wanted to control it, so you wouldn’t know it was there.”
“Oh,” said Heidi, a third time. “It’s not doing a very good job,” she pointed out.
The worn material in the jock strap wasn’t up to the task of controlling anything at all, and I had one of those diamond hardons. You know those pictures you’ve seen of bikini tops that are minuscule and stretched across really big breasts? You can see everything except the tips of the breasts, right? Well that’s sort of what my jock looked like. It was stretched so much that you could clearly see my balls hanging down, and some of the shaft of my penis.
Heidi’s hands went to the top of the front panel of the jock. It was already stretched as much as it would go so all she could do was pull it down, bringing my penis with it. I winced, but then she jerked things and, suddenly, my manhood was bobbing up and down right in front of her face. I actually saw her eyes go cross-eyed a little bit until she moved her head back.
The jock, now wrapped around my upper thighs, was forgotten as Heidi moved back a little more.
“Wow,” she whispered.
I looked up from my penis, which had stopped moving for the most part after nodding its head a couple of times. I imagined it saying, “Okay! I’m finally free! This is more like it. Now, where’s that delicious little naked girl I saw through your eyes a minute ago?”
It wasn’t difficult to personify my organ, actually. First of all it helped me pass the blame for my erotic thoughts to my little head. Second, while it wasn’t bouncing up and down anymore, it was still moving around. I think that was the result of blood pressure, and little movements my hips were making or something like that. The point is it was moving a little bit, sometimes up as I clenched the muscles designed not to let sperm rush through it, and back and forth a little bit. The effect was of a dog’s nose up in the air, sniffing around.
“Oh my,” sighed Hannah, breaking my concentration. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well …” I said. “I tried to warn you. Maybe I should put my shorts back on.”
“No!” yipped Heidi. Then, as if she’d just showed up, she said, “Wow!” again.
Heidi just stood there, but she wasn’t alone. Her mother stood beside her and the eyes of both women were pinned to my errant cock. I had never considered the aesthetics of my privates before, but was forced to consider them now as both women stared in what was clearly something along the lines of awe. I’m not unduly endowed, but somewhere in the average range I suppose. Neither am I vain about things though, as I suspect most men have, I measured myself one time. At that point I was 6½ inches long when fully erect with a diameter of not quite two inches. I’m not circumcised.
And yes, I felt stupid for measuring it.
“It’s so big!” Heidi whispered.
“No, it’s not,” I said. I think it was an automatic response. I’d have said the same thing if she’d said it was “so small”. Anything other than, “Well, thank goodness, that looks completely normal!” would have gotten that response.
“Yes, it is,” sighed her mother, whose tone of voice made it clear she was agreeing with Heidi, rather than arguing with me. I could see her nipples poking through her shirt now too, and it was apparent she’d gone sans bra that day.
So there I was, standing there with my little Blue Heeler’s nose up and sniffing. The “prey” wasn’t afraid of the dog, though, and hadn’t screamed and run away. Believe it or not, it was so surreal that it calmed me down a little. I mean my worst fear, that of Hannah pointing toward the front door with thunder on her face, hadn’t happened. So the worst was over … right?
“So I guess I should get back in my pose?” I suggested.
Heidi seemed to snap out of a dream.
“Yes! Lie down. I need to study you.”
I spoke to Heidi as I got back into position. “Are you going to put your suit back on now?” It was a suggestion, rather than a question.
“No,” she said, staring at my groin. “This feels really nice.”
I looked at Hannah, who was also still staring at my groin. It was a little amazing that she was that shocked … and yet not upset about it.
I resumed the pose she’d had me in and Heidi came over to stand and stare. She licked her lips, and my cock bobbed. Finally she returned to the easel and started doing things there.
Hannah fanned her face with a hand and smiled. I was pretty sure she was just trying to make me feel better.
“This is better,” said Heidi from behind her easel. “But there’s just one more problem. I can’t paint him like that.”
“I thought this was what you wanted,” I groaned.
“It is. I mean I need to see it, but I can’t render it looking like that. Think about it. In what museum have you ever seen a naked man depicted with a hardon?”
“Erection,” corrected Hannah.
“Okay, erection,” said Heidi.
“So you want him naked, but not hard,” said Hannah.
“Exactly. Though I’m not complaining about it, really. This has been really cool, getting to see him like that. But I really need him soft instead of hard.”
“Why don’t you let me talk to Sam about that. Give us five minutes and then come back in,” said Hannah.
“What can happen in five minutes?” asked the curious teen.
“Never mind that,” said Hannah. “Just give him time to relax a little.”
“Okay. I need a snack anyway,” said Heidi.
When the door had closed Hannah came over to the bed and sat down on the edge.
“So,” she said. “What do you propose we do about your naughty little friend?”
“Do?” This was all moving a little fast for me. This is not to say I wasn’t running along behind the wagon Hannah was perched on, as it trundled down the road. I was trying hard to keep up.
“Obviously something needs to be done to make things more … relaxed,” she said.
“Sweetie, you know I love you,” I said. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” she asked, sounding innocent.
“Have sex with me,” I said, trusting that I was reading things correctly. After all, she’d said that getting a boner for her was fine, but it seemed like this was moving kind of fast. I mean we hadn’t even gone out on a date, yet.
I saw her eyes widen and she leaned away from me.
“You want to do that?”
Something was wrong. She wasn’t purring and taking her clothes off.
“Well … if you do,” I said, sounding like I was closer to Heidi’s age than my own.
I honestly think that what happened then was the result of the fact that we knew each other so well. Had there been less history between us I’m quite sure things would have gone sideways and the whole train would have come off the tracks.
“I was thinking more of a hand job,” said Hannah, staring right into my eyes.
“Oh!” I said. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “I don’t think too clearly when I’m like … this.” I glanced down at Fido, who was still sniffing the air, waiting for somebody to be nice to him.
“I see,” she said. “Do you actually need any help with that?”
“Desperately,” I said. Actually it was my little head that made me say it. “I mean, I don’t want Heidi to have to arrange me in my pose again.” It was lame, but then at that point in time I was lame.
She actually smiled. She’d called me a “BSH” on more than one occasion, usually when I was feeding Heidi some wild story and claiming it was a hundred percent true.
“Yes. We wouldn’t want that, would we.”
I was red-faced, most likely with shame at having handled all this so poorly. But I’d been blindsided. I had no idea Hannah might have been willing to expand our relationship past where it had gone. Even now I wasn’t sure how much expanding she had in mind.
“You don’t have to help,” I sighed.
“And that’s why I’m willing to,” she said, reaching for my cock…… ….
“Mmmmm. It’s been so long,” said Hannah. Her hand was sliding gently up and down my prick. She wasn’t “jerking it off”. Rather she was massaging it, alternating the strength of her grip as her hand moved. It felt wonderful and I didn’t want it to stop. “I didn’t realize how much I missed this.”
I watched as my foreskin stretched, became paper thin, and then bunched under the crown, only to see it do things in reverse order to cover the knob again.
“Desmond was circumcised,” she said, apparently making conversation.
“I’m sorry,” I said, thinking about Desmond, and the fact that this had brought his loss back into our lives again.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” said Hannah. “I miss him every single day, but I know if it had been me instead of him, I’d have wanted him to find another woman to be happy with.”
“And yet you haven’t found another man to be happy with,” I panted.
“That’s complicated,” she said. “I’d characterize it more as never having been motivated to look all that hard.”
“Well you can do this anytime you’re feeling nostalgic,” I joked.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “I’d like to go on doing this for a while, but Heidi will be back and we need this baby soft. How should I get you there?”
Now there was a loaded question. It was a question had had multiple answers, dozens, in fact. She could take off her shirt. I was sure that would do it because I already knew she was braless. I knew this because her nipples were threatening to tear holes in the shirt. She could hop on me and dry-fuck me. That would do it just as fast. All she’d have to do was get close and breathe on it and I’d probably erupt.
“Just speed up a little,” I panted. I felt like I’d already pushed things with both women, even though I’d been solicited to do so, somehow.
The door opened and Heidi breezed back in.
“Five minutes is up,” she said, and then stopped, frozen at the tableau in front of her. I was lying back, completely out of position, with my legs spread. My right knee was still bent, but I didn’t think that counted towards me claiming to have tried to stay the way she’d posed me. Meanwhile her mother was sitting primly on the edge of the bed, leaning slightly, holding herself up with one arm, while the other was engaged in flogging my log.
I looked at Heidi’s shocked face and then my eyes slid to her breasts, and further down to her garden of delights. I think it was that cleft of Venus that unleashed my swimmers, who leapt joyfully into the air only to be dismayed that they hadn’t leapt into anything even close to a warm pussy. In retribution, they landed on my chest, and Hannah’s wrist. Her head turned to look at her daughter, but she didn’t stop stroking, thankfully.
“You should have knocked,” she scolded, as her fingers expertly milked my cock.
“It’s my room,” complained Heidi, taking a step closer to us.
“Yes, but I didn’t want you to see this.”
“Why not? Don’t I need to see this?”
“Of course not,” snapped her mother.
“Won’t I have to do this some day?” asked Heidi, who knew she had her mother on the ropes.
Hannah didn’t answer her, but I saw her blush even harder.
“It looks different than you described it,” said Heidi.
What the fuck did that mean?
“We can talk about that later,” said Hannah. “We need a wash cloth. Dampen it a little, but don’t leave it wet.”
“Okay,” said Heidi, who turned and left.
“Sorry,” said Hannah.
“I don’t know what to say,” I panted.
“I think our little friend here said it all when my naked daughter came into the room.”
“No!” I groaned. “I wasn’t thinking about her.”
“Of course you were, Sam.”
“I didn’t mean to think about her,” I whined.
“We’ll talk about that later, too. For now it’s soft and she can finish her damned painting.”
She stood and I felt like things were falling apart. I didn’t want them to fall apart.
“Thank you,” I said, softly. I have no idea what twisted part of my brain thought that was a great idea, but, as things turned out, it might have been the right thing to say.
“No, thank you,” said Hannah.
She had just finished leaning down to bestow a warm but quick little kiss on my lips when Heidi got back with the wash cloth.
“I really could help with that,” said Heidi, as Hannah wiped the semen off my chest, abdomen , and hips. She’d cleaned her wrist and hand first.
“Sperm is the last thing that needs to be near you while you’re naked, Heidi,” said her mother, sternly. “Don’t push it. You get to see him naked. Even though you weren’t supposed to see it, you observed how a man reaches completion. That should be enough for one day, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” said Heidi. “Get back into position, Sam. We have work to do.”
I did and, after coming over to move this or that, she stepped back to look at me.
“That’s as close as we’re going to get it,” she said.
“All right, then,” said Hannah. “Now that you’re back to work I have something to do downstairs.”
“You aren’t staying?” I asked.
“I can’t babysit the two of you all day. And I trust both of you. I really need to get some things done. I’ll be back later, okay?”
“I guess so,” I said.
She went to the door and, just before closing it, leaned back in.
“Behave yourselves,” she said.
“I thought you trusted us,” Heidi said.
“I do,” she said. “But I know how I feel right now, so I thought a little reminder couldn’t hurt.”
With that she left the room and closed the door. I had a lot to think about. One thing was that last little comment about how she was feeling. What did that mean? I knew she’d thought back to Desmond and the things they’d done as lovers. Then I had a fleeting thought about mothers who leave young daughters alone naked with much older, also naked men. Not your usual mother. Not by a long shot. But this wasn’t a usual relationship, that I had with these women, and Heidi’s boundless enthusiasm wiped away most thoughts of anything other than that she was doing what she’d said she wanted to do.
Then Heidi was standing right in front of me.
“Don’t move,” she said, reaching to gingerly grip the tip of my penis with her thumb and forefinger. She moved it from where it had been lying in a kind of lateral position, and made it droop downwards more. Oddly, I could see the logic in that. Before, it had looked like it was defying gravity. Now it looked tired and innocent. Of course it was tired, if not innocent, but I could detect nothing other than an artist’s desire to get it into the right position. Maybe it was an excuse to touch it, but it was a good excuse, so I didn’t say anything.
Time passed. Heidi was basically hidden behind the easel and my prick behaved itself. My mind wandered. Actually I got a little sleepy. Then suddenly Heidi was standing beside me again.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I thought this was an odd time to do something like that, but maybe she needed a little break.
“Sure,” I said.
“Have you been doing the deed with my mother all these years?”
“What?” I gasped. “Of course not! We’ve never had sex even once!”
“Had sex?” Heidi looked shocked. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, then, what did you mean?”
“You know, making out,” said Heidi.
“Making out?”
“Yes! Doing … the … deed?” she said, drawing it out.
“When I was growing up, doing the deed meant having sex,” I said.
“Oh. Well, that’s not what it means now.”
“It doesn’t matter. We haven’t been making out.”
“It sure looked like she knew what she was doing,” said Heidi.
“She’s done it before,” I said, helpless to come up with anything sharper. “With your dad, I mean.”
“Oh.”
“Okay?” I said. “We all square, here?”
“I guess so,” said Heidi. “It’s getting hard again,” she commented, calmly.
I looked down. She was right. I guess that wasn’t surprising. She was naked and near me, and we’d been talking about ‘doing the deed’, whatever that meant these days.
“I’m almost finished, but it still needs to be soft,” said Heidi.
“Great,” I sighed.
“I could go get Mom again, but can I try it instead?”
“What? No!”
“Why not?”
“Heidi, you’re sixteen. I’m more than twice that age. Not to mention it’s illegal.”
“Well, nobody would find out, so the against-the-law thing isn’t really relevant,” she said.
“It would be if your mother caught you doing it,” I said.
“Okay, I’ll go ask her if it’s okay.”
“No!” I gasped. “You can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Are you insane? Your mother is not going to tell you it’s fine and dandy for you to jerk me off, Heidi.”
“Maybe she would,” said my “niece”.
“I don’t think so.” I noticed that my cock disagreed, because it had gotten mondo stiff again.
“Look. It’s no big deal. Let me just get it soft again.”
“I’ll do it,” I gasped.
“Okay. I’d like to see it from start to finish,” said Heidi.
I know I should have made her leave, but things were spinning out of control again, so I just reached for my prod and started whaling away on it. Heidi stepped closer and leaned down to watch, interestedly.
“That looks kind of violent,” she commented.
“It’s not as violent as it looks,” I panted, as if that made any sense.
“It makes me feel funny, watching,” she said.
“No big surprise,” I panted.
“Right here,” she said, reaching to press two fingers to her mound just above her split.
“I’m pretty sure that’s normal,” I gasped. There was no way I could avoid thinking about the tunnel just below her fingers, or that my prick would love to try it on for size.
I groaned and lay back as soothing semen rushed through my prick.
“Fuck!” she whispered, which shocked me because I’d never heard her use that word before.
What made it even worse was that her fingers slipped lower and obviously pressed against her clit, even though I couldn’t see it.
“Finish the painting!” I gasped, rolling back up and trying to get back into position. I didn’t even worry about my spooge, which had splattered all over me again.
“Okay,” she said.
But she got the wash cloth and cleaned me up with it first.
Heidi moved the easel so that light from the window fell on it more directly. This meant she stood sideways to me. Her nipples were straining away from her teenaged titties and, every so often, as she took a step this way or that, I was able to see her pudendal slit. It looked puffier than it had before, and I imagined her outer labia, which was really all I could see at that point, were also darker. I’m pretty sure the only reason I didn’t get hard again was because I’d cum twice within the last hour and a half.
Another half hour went by before she finally stepped back and looked critically at the canvas.
“I guess that will have to do,” she sighed. “I still don’t think I got your penis right, but I learned a lot, doing this.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said, sitting up. I admit there was a little sarcasm in my voice. It seemed like the whole world had changed that day. Starting with Heidi being so casual about getting naked in front of me. Later I would suspect she planned that all along, but I didn’t think about it then. Then there were Hannah’s words and actions, which seemed to have come from a completely different woman. That was followed up by Heidi wanting to emulate her mother’s actions and the fact that she almost masturbated after watching me do that.
It was just a strange, new world, and I hadn’t been able to process it yet.
It would only get stranger after we both got dressed and went downstairs for supper.
END
Just enough for your own imagination….
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New Story…..
Remember Jasmine and her brother ’ Sam ‘?
The following story is from Sam’s POV………enjoy…
"Ever thought of when you live in a house where the bathroom has to be shared, modesty suffers. Not that anybody ran around naked or anything, and what happened was really an accident. Really!!
But when you have to go you have to go, even if your sister happens to be taking a shower. I snuck in and out, but her image behind the frosted shower door stayed in my head. I didn't want it there, honest!! Yet it wouldn't go away. I thought it might help if I did it again (jerk-off). She couldn't see me, after all, so what was the harm? "
'Except if it turned out that she COULD see me.'.....
At least not until I was sixteen.
I have since learned a word for what happened to my sister and me. That word is ‘serendipity’ but I had never heard of it back then. I don’t know if Jasmine had ever heard of it then or not. And that’s a good example of how much things have changed for me. Back then, if I’d learned a new word, it would never have even occurred to me to ask her if she knew what it meant.
Now I would. Now we share everything with each other.
Even things we aren’t supposed to share.
I think you know what I mean already. I chose a place to tell our story that specializes in, shall we say, stories about things sexual. It was the accident - the serendipity - of finding that site that emboldened me enough to actually tell our story at all. This is not to say nobody else in the world knows about us. That’s not true, as you’ll find out. And really, as Jasmine reminded me pretty regularly while I wrote this, it isn’t anybody else’s business that we are closer as siblings than most people in the world would approve of.
But that’s the point, actually. The point is that in a world where there seems to be so little love, what there is should be celebrated instead of reviled. Oh, I get it that incestuous pairings in the past have created terrible and sad situations in terms of birth defects. The record is perfectly clear in a murky kind of way about that. What I mean by “murky” is there are no scholarly papers out there on why these defects happen in some cases of incest and don’t in others. There are theories galore, but no scientific studies to back them up. To me, that is like saying “There’s this incredible, mystifying behavior that can both create or destroy life but why that happens is something we’re not going to talk about.”
Now maybe you think I’m getting worked up about something that really makes very little difference in the grand scheme of things. After all, incest is an aberration in human life, right? Very few people are involved in that behavior, right? At least that we know about. We don’t need to talk about that perversion, right? It isn’t common. Incest only touches a fraction of a fraction of a given population.
Right?
Well … let’s not even take up the discussion about Adam and Eve, or Noah and his minescule family, who repopulated the Earth after the flood. We’ll pretend that we’re not all the product of incest. At least if you ascribe to any number of religions that all pose an original pair that populated the Earth. But maybe you don’t. Maybe you think all manner of different humans evolved all at the same time, from different organisms. If that’s the way you think, we can go with the roughly 11,000 humans who survived the ice age (scattered hither and yon in tiny groups) and then repopulated the Earth. They had no choice but to inbreed to survive.
I know I said I wasn’t a philosopher, and a lot of that up above looks and sounds like philosophical ramblings, but what can I say? Stuff happened and I couldn’t help but think about it and wonder why it happened. I know how it happened … sort of … at least now in retrospect, but I sure had no idea what was going on while it was happening.
What all this rambling is supposed to be getting to is that maybe it happened to you, too. I have a sneaking suspicion that what happened between Jasmine and me has happened to a lot more people than anybody would admit. I use the words “would admit” intentionally, because of another sexual behavior that seems to happen a lot, but which very few people admit they engage in. Can you guess what it is?
Yup. Masturbation.
Think back on that. If you masturbate (and everybody says everybody does) then how many people have you admitted that to? I’m not talking about how many people know you do it, or believe you do it. I’m talking about you formally announcing, “You know what? I masturbate frequently. Do you?”
Everybody allegedly does it, but nobody admits it to anyone but maybe one or two very close friends.
Enough rambling. I’ll just tell you what happened. Maybe you’ll be able to explain it to me.
I’ll start off by admitting to the whole world that I masturbate, and that I masturbated frequently before all this happened. I started when I was roughly twelve and I learned to do it completely by accident. I was in the shower and I was washing my penis, which was either already hard, or got that way while I was washing it. I don’t remember. That wasn’t a new thing, having an erection, I mean. It had been getting hard for a long time. But this was the first time I washed it with the now familiar stroking grip that every guy knows all about.
Or so I hear.
Anyway, it felt good so I just kept doing it. Then it felt great and I wouldn’t have stopped even if somebody pounded on the door and told me to hurry up. Nobody did, though, and suddenly there was this pain in my penis that was scary as hell, but still felt fantastic, and I spurted. Just like that. I knew NUTS about sex back then. I knew all the words associated with it, particularly the dirty words one never uttered in the hearing of an adult, but that’s kind of like all those kids in the spelling bee who can spell anything, but have no idea what it really means. After all, they always ask for the definition … right?
By the time I was sixteen I was an expert at masturbation. I had my stash of pictures, most of them torn from girly mags I found in the trash. I found the first one by accident, in a dumpster. I was a confirmed dumpster diver after that. People throw away the coolest stuff, as it turns out. But never mind that. I was going to tell you how ‘it’ started, between my sister and me.
It started when I had to pee really bad and it was either go outside in the back yard, and hope that our neighbour wasn’t looking out her window, or go in the bathroom, where my sister, Jasmine, was taking a shower. Maybe your neighbour doesn’t stare out the window at your house, but this neighbour seemed to. She was always “just mentioning” things to my parents about stuff I did in the back yard. Like when I shot a bird with my BB gun, or when my friend and I were throwing rocks at each other (we weren’t actually trying to score a hit), or when I accidentally ran the mower into my mom’s flower garden. There were a bunch of times she saw things and “bumped into” one of my parents and “just mentioned” what she’d seen, and I knew she’d have a conniption fit if I took a leak in the back yard. It was almost bedtime and it stayed light outside pretty late. Plus my dad wired in one of those motion sensor floodlights on the back wall of the house and didn’t bother to put a switch on the thing. It would come on if I went out there and that was sure to draw my neighbor’s attention.
So I opened the door to the bathroom and went in all ninja-like. Dad had renovated the shower and the new one had a frosted door so I was hoping Jasmine wouldn’t be able to see me. I had it all planned out. I was going to sit down on the toilet so things wouldn’t splash and make noise. When I was finished I’d put the lid down so she wouldn’t see the tint in the water. I wasn’t going to flush, of course, since that would be a dead giveaway. Besides, we use way too much water just to flush and it’s not like my pee was going to sit there all day. Somebody else would use it.
Now all this was unplanned, which is why it was a complete accident that, as I sat there feeling huge relief, I was facing the shower stall. I could see Jasmine’s form through that frosted glass. Just her overall form, a kind of flesh-colored blob that was vaguely humanoid in shape. But I knew what was making that shape, so it wasn’t hard to imagine I could sort of, kind of, almost see her breasts when she raised her arms to do something on top of her head.
And as my bladder got empty, my dick got hard.
Now I have to tell you this was a complete surprise. Jasmine was my younger, bratty sister. True, she was only a year younger, and true she got straight A’s in school, whereas C was my favorite letter. And there was nothing exactly wrong with her, other than the fact she was a pest and always thought she should be able to do whatever I got to do. But I’d never even thought about getting a boner because of her.
Sure I’d seen her running around in her bra and panties, or maybe the short robe she wore sometimes that showed her legs almost up to her butt, but she was … Jasmine. She was my sister. And she wasn’t a raving beauty or anything. She wore glasses. She had contacts, but her allergies made them itch a lot so she only wore them about half the time. She had boobs, but they weren’t huge or anything. She had a “boyfriend” every so often, but she was too hard-headed and independent to let a boy tell her what to do so those relationships always kind of faded to black sooner or later. Mostly sooner.
My point is I’d never thought of Jasmine as a sexual being before. But seeing her vague, naked form behind that frosted glass, it was impossible not to imagine what she might look like if I opened that door.
Suffice to say I was confused that I got a boner while looking at her amorphous form. And a little weirded out, to be honest.
I didn’t just sit there and think about all this, by the way. I did what needed to be done and, pulling my pants back up as I stood, to get my boner covered, I snuck out as ninja-like as I had snuck in.
Things stayed confusing when I got back to my bedroom. When I got undressed that boner was still there, and it was throbbing. Always before I’d have happily jerked off and then read until I got sleepy. But this time I couldn’t get Jasmine’s cloudy form out of my mind. I needed to jerk off, to get some relief, but I knew if I did, I’d keep thinking about my sister and that would be just too weird.
I tried to read, but that damn boner wouldn’t deflate.
I got out my pictures and locked the door. My mother was a fan of breezing in to give good night kisses on foreheads and she didn’t know I abused myself. Nobody did. How could they? I’d never admitted it to anybody.
Anyway, Miss September (Centerfold model) saved the day because she was looking me right in the eye with that “You can have me if you want me” look that could get me to spurt within sixty seconds if I really wanted to hurry things along. And my eyes flitted from her eyes to her tits to her puffy pussy lips and I came and then I was able to read until I got sleepy.
Miss SEPTEMBER, however, could not distract me the next morning when I went down to breakfast and Jasmine was sitting there, reading the comics in the morning paper. She was dressed like normal, in a tank top and shorts. She was barefoot and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. And damned if she didn’t look … I don’t know … interesting?
She looked up at me and her eyebrows formed a mild frown.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You’re staring at me,” she said.
“Stop staring at your sister,” my mother said, automatically. She was fussing with something in the skillet on the stove.
“I wasn’t staring at her!” I complained.
“Yes … you were,” said Jasmine.
But the strangest thing was that she had this little smile on her face as she said it.
“I’ll stop,” I said, knowing this was the only way to get both of them off my case.
I got a bowl and a box of cereal from the cupboard, not wanting to wait for the more involved process of bacon and eggs.
“I’m cooking, here,” complained my mother.
“I love you,” I said. Those are the magic words, especially when it comes to moms. But I’m late.
“How can you be late to shoot hoops?” asked Jasmine. “It’s just shooting hoops.”
I wanted to stick my tongue out at her, but I was sixteen and you can’t get away with that much after you’re ten, so I just inhaled my cereal (as my mother would have put it) and hurried out the back door.
I had a whole day planned of not thinking about my naked sister behind a shower door, and it would have come off that way too, had it not been Desmond I had decided to spend the day with. He had a thing for my sister. He’d had it since seventh grade, but he was too chicken to ask her out. He was too chicken to even talk to her, for that matter. But he’d talk to me about her. He was fond of saying, “She’s so hot. It must drive you crazy, living with her.” He was of the opinion that, since he thought she was a babe, all other males must think she was a babe, too, including her brother.
For years I’d happily pointed out why no man on the planet should be interested in Jasmine, but all that bounced off him like water off a duck, so I’d given up a year or so past.
And of course, it was on this particular day that, as we played H.O.R.S.E, Desmond asked me if I’d ever seen Jasmine naked.
There was a conversation about that, but you don’t want to hear about that. All you need to know is that, by the time I got home, all I could think about was whether Jasmine would take another shower that night.
Of course I knew she would. Jasmine took a shower every night. If she got sweaty she took one during the day, too. Jasmine and sweat did not get along. I, on the other hand, might go two or three days between showers. I didn’t have a girlfriend, but I didn’t associate those two facts as having anything to do with each other.
So, of course, she did take a shower.
And, of course I had to decide what to do.
I did not ninja in to get a peek, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I knew she was in there, and I knew she was naked, and I knew what it would look like if I didgo in there for a peek.
And that’s all it took to give me another boner.
Even Miss September couldn’t do the trick that night. I went through the whole calendar, or at least the months I had, and none of them could keep me from imagining what my sister looked like behind that stupid door.
And that was the first night I just gave up and thought about Jasmine, rubbing her hands all over her slippery body … across her breasts … between her legs … as she got all squeaky clean.
It was the first night that I suddenly wondered if she did, in the shower, the same thing I did, in the shower. Namely … masturbate.
So it was the first night that I jerked off while thinking about my sister… ….
It was five days before I just couldn’t take it anymore. You do stupid things when you’re confused, like making sure you don’t go to the bathroom so you’ll have a “legitimate” excuse to ninja in and use the toilet while your sister is taking a shower. You’re not planning on getting caught, but you make sure you have a valid excuse, just in case. And I changed into the cotton running shorts I sleep in every night, before I spied on my sister. I reasoned that I could pull them up faster than my regular pants. I knew I was going to have a boner. At least I was smart enough not to even think about beating off while I sat there. I figured the shorts would come up and cover said boner quickly and efficiently as I ninjaed back out of the bathroom.
I know this sounds stupid, particularly because I already mentioned that all you could see was the vague outline of a naked person behind the glass. I think maybe it was like some kind of drug. I tried it once, by accident, and it hooked me right away. So every so often I needed a fix, to keep me going.
That really does sound stupid, doesn’t it? But it’s all I got.
So I did it. I waited until she went in, and then stood by the door until the water had run long enough that I knew she’d be inside the shower. The door creaked as I opened it. I hadn’t noticed that the last time. I made a mental note to oil the hinges.
See how bad things were already?! I’d already turned into a pervert!
I tiptoed over to the toilet and shoved my shorts down. I already had a hardon and I had to bend it to get it into the space between my thighs and the toilet seat.
Then I couldn’t go. If you’re a guy, you know how that works. Or doesn’t work. If you have a great boner, you can’t piss through it. I don’t know why. It’s just the way things are.
So there I was, my bladder screaming, and me unable to get a stream going. And all the while I’m staring at the shower door, where Jasmine is soaping herself up.
Now, if you’re a guy, then you know the only way to coax piss out of a boner is to stroke it a little bit. For you ladies who haven’t fled screaming already, I’ll educate you. I’m not talking about a death grip, or choking the chicken, here. What you do is take your thumb and two fingertips and you just tease the shaft a little, kind of stroking it like you might pet a cat or something. It’s sort of like you’re milking your cock, except it’s nothing like milking a cow. Anyway, that’s what works. Somehow it relaxes things, at least for me, and within a minute I got things moving.
Of course I was in a mild panic while all this was going on, so I missed not hitting the water, at least at first. I looked down as I bent my cock to one side and the noise stopped. Then I looked back up at the shower door, to see if I was busted. I wasn’t, or at least she didn’t say anything, but she was standing still. It looked like her hand was in front of her, maybe covering her pussy? But she wasn’t saying anything and her other hand was on the wall of the shower, and not covering her breasts. So then, suddenly, that question about whether she did in the shower what I did in the shower popped back in my head.
I squinted, trying to see better, and it looked like her hand was moving. Was it moving between her legs?
I suddenly realized I’d been in there for a lot longer than planned. In fact, I wasn’t sure just how long I’d been in there. It could have been as much as three or four minutes, and there isn’t a guy in the world who needs three or four minutes to piss. Maybe to piss and then wash up and dry his hands and comb his hair and look at how handsome he is in the mirror, but not just to take a leak.
Which is why I stood up somewhat precipitously, meaning I didn’t have a boner management plan in place, which meant my rampant rod waved in the air in front of me like Harry Potter’s wand doing an Alohomora unlocking spell. Then I had to bend over to pull up my shorts, and I guess all that getting up fast and then bending over and getting up fast again caused me to get light-headed, because I staggered to the door and exited in a decidedly un-ninja fashion.
Five minutes later I was lying in bed with my shorts down to my thighs, beating off in the dark and imagining my sister masturbating in the shower.
It bothered me. Maybe that sounds dumb, but it did. And the reason it bothered me was because when I came, imagining Jasmine with a finger plugged into her pussy, it was a really hard, really enjoyable cum. Really enjoyable. It was so enjoyable, in fact, that it kind of convinced me I really was a pervert. I didn’t know how I’d become a pervert, but the fact was unavoidable as I found myself gripping my softening penis and discovered that the sock I’d planned to shoot on hadn’t even come close to being up to the task.
I got up and cleaned up the stripe of cum on my floor, and tried to sop up what had gotten on the bedspread. I kept imagining my mother coming in the door and finding me cleaning up cum spots. I hadn’t locked the door because I had the lights out.
Basically I was a mess. I suddenly had the HOTs for my sister, or at least for my sister when she was in the shower. The rest of the time she was the same old Jasmine, except that now I noticed the bulge of her breasts, and imagined what was packed into her shorts. Of course I couldn’t look her in the eyes. If I did, she’d know instantly that her pervy brother was thinking forbidden thoughts. But I didn’t think she’d notice. We tried to have as little to do with each other as possible, usually.
I felt so bad that I managed to wait an entire week before I just had to see that vague image again.
It was a repeat of the previous time, though things went much better, assuming you can call sneaking in to peek at your sister in the shower as being any kind of okay. But this time I was prepared for everything. Again I’d refrained from going to the toilet so I actually had to go in there. I knew I’d have to get the stream going, so I teased my cock right away. This time I kept an eye on the shower door while I did it, and this time it was aimed at the porcelain instead of the water when something started happening. I sat there, kind of hunched over, watching her indistinct, tantalizing form move around in the shower. I could see she was washing her breasts. She washed them a long time and it was impossible not to imagine her doing it for purposes other than getting them clean.
I was still rock hard when I finished peeing, and I honestly think it was unconscious that I kind of teased my cock some more. I mean I always milked it to get the last drops of pee out, whether it was hard or soft, but I milked it a lot more than was necessary. Anyway, I suddenly realized I was almost jerking off, watching her hands slide all over her chest like that. That kind of freaked me out. I mean it was one thing to lie on my bed and imagine seeing her, but it seemed like another thing to actually stare at her vague image while I did that.
So I got up and ninjaed back out of the bathroom. I didn’t even make it to my bed before I was beating my meat like it owed me money and couldn’t pay. I came so fast I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have anything to shoot my spooge into. I gave about half a second to thinking about just cumming in my free hand, but that seemed gross, so I just squeezed it hard when I felt it coming.
Man! Have you ever done that? It’s crazy! First it was painful. I know cumming is always painful … in a happy kind of way … but this was over the top. It didn’t stop my orgasm. I mean I still had one, but without the soothing part. It was intense. It’s hard to come up with a description of how it felt, but it wasn’t on the bad side of things at all. I’ve done it a couple of times since then just because it feels so different, OMG kind of different.
Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. But the whole situation was crazy. And it was making me a little crazy, too.
Which is why, the next time I peeked at her, I just sort of … well … jerked off while I did it.
It started weird. What I mean is that Jasmine and I were watching America’s Got Talent in the family room, and when it was over, she stood up and stretched and said, “I’m going to go take a shower.” That sounds pretty normal, except Jasmine wasn’t in the habit of telling me much of anything about her life. I mean why did she care whether I knew what she was going to do in the next ten minutes? It was just out of character for her. Weird.
And of course I started getting a boner almost as soon as she said it.
“Okay,” I said, like my approval mattered.
“Night,” she said.
That was weird, too. She never wished me good night.
Jasmine took some of her showers in the morning. I didn’t know why. I always took a shower when I got up, rather than when I went to bed. Most of that was because I stayed up until I was sleepy, and a shower kind of invigorates you, you know? So I chose to be invigorated in the morning, rather than just before I went to bed.
But Jasmine had some secret system where she took some showers in the morning and some at night. And I was pretty sure she’d taken one that morning.
But I didn’t stop to think about it then. I just thought about how I hadn’t prepared, and didn’t have to pee. Of course you can force yourself to pee just about anytime if it’s been a little while since you did it last, but I had gone to the toilet during one of the commercials, so I didn’t really have to go. Don’t ask me why I had this twisted thought process, but I felt kind of nervous because if I went in there, I had no excuse at all except that I wanted to see Jasmine’s nakedness through that frosted glass.
I was too far gone, though. I knew I’d sneak in there anyway, and feeling bad about it didn’t stop me from doing it.
So I gave her time to get in the shower and did my ninja thing, carefully opening the door and going in on tiptoes. I had, in fact, oiled the hinges but I always left the door a few inches open in case I had to make a fast escape. I sat down on the toilet, like usual, but since I didn’t have to pee, all I did was stroke my cock. Jasmine was humming a tune, but I didn’t pay any attention to what it was.
The next thing I knew I was jerking off, staring at Jasmine’s form through the glass. She’d been washing her breasts when I got in there. The fact that she was facing the door didn’t make an impression on me. She usually turned and faced every direction sooner or later. And when I started doing it … actually masturbating while I watched her … both of her hands slid down and started washing between her legs. I convinced myself she was masturbating too, and it was so hot that I only lasted maybe two minutes. When it happened, since the toilet bowl was right there, I just aimed it down and let it blast.
Almost instantly I realized how stupid I’d been. I should have choked it off. Now there were strings of cum in the bowl, some of it floating on the water, and I couldn’t flush the stool.
All I could do was put the lid down, which I did, and then fled. I figured I could go back in after she left and get rid of the evidence.
I’m telling you, it was like a drug. And, like a closet drug addict, I was living two lives. In one I acted as normal around my sister as I could. Nothing about that life was any different than before. We still barely spoke and never did anything together. She still complained about things I did, or didn’t do, and I still called her a bitch. And in that life she didn’t complain to our parents that there was some stringy white stuff in the toilet after she took a shower. Or maybe she didn’t see it. I don’t know. Maybe she just dried off and left without lifting the lid and never saw it.
In my other life, though, our relationship was completely different. At least in my mind. In that life I resisted the drug as long as I could and then snuck in to jerk off, staring at her pale form through the glass, wondering what she’d look like if she stepped out and I could actually see the details. In my real life there was no way to assuage that desire - to see her naked. We weren’t nudists, and didn’t run around the house in nothing or even next to nothing.
That fantasy life intruded on my real one in other ways, too. She was popular and got invited to parties and sleepovers all the time. She wasn’t allowed to date yet, but I knew that day would come and she’d go out with a lot of guys. Being a guy myself, I knew what guys tried to get away with when they got a girl alone.
Basically, I knew there were other guys out there who wanted to see her soft, creamy naked skin too, and her pink nipples. Were they pink? It didn’t matter. I couldn’t help but wonder how far she let them get. Would she let any of them between her legs? Would she give up her virginity to her prom date? That seemed to be the common plan, at least if you believed the rumors.
It made my blood boil.
Okay, well maybe not boil. But it did make me jealous and I realized I was jealous, which was crazy because none of it had even happened yet. It was just one more push to get me on my way to the loony bin.
I knew I’d get there some day. The loony bin, I mean. I had fantasies about that, too. In one of them I was at Burger King and some guy came in with a gun and said he was robbing the place. Then he demanded that all the girls kiss him and he started feeling them up. In this particular deluded imagining my sister wasn’t even there, but I defended her anyway. I went all apeshit on the guy and went into ninja mode and almost killed him.
I know nothing about being a ninja, by the way. Just what I’ve seen in Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan movies. Which amounts to nothing. But I was unhinged so that didn’t bother me.
It got so bad that I actually thought about going to my parents and telling them about this unhealthy fixation I had on my sister and asking them to get me to a shrink. And I might have done that, too, had not something even crazier happened.
It was on a Saturday morning. I’d slept late, after sneaking in on Jasmine and jacking off again, the night before. I’d almost gotten caught that time because she suddenly turned the water off. I had been right on the cusp of spurting, so my body didn’t like the fact I just stopped and jumped up off the throne. I didn’t have time to put the cover down and my shorts were only up to my thighs when I made it out the door. I just scooted before she could open the shower door and find me there.
I had gone to bed, then and I had a case of blue balls because what they’d been about to get rid of got all bottled up. Plus I was having a fantasy about how it could have happened if she did catch me. It was a really stupid fantasy. In it, she opened the door and found me with my dick in my hand, whaling away. Her eyes got all big and she squeaked, “Is that because of me?” And of course she got all warm and fuzzy that her brother, her most harsh critic, actually thought she was a babe and all that. And of course it went on from there, while I laid back and stroked and dreamed and finally shot a quart of spunk into a sock.
Yeah, I know it wasn’t a quart. A quart wouldn’t even fit in a sock. I was just using what Mrs. Tan taught us about in English last year. It’s called hyperbole.
Anyway, I slept late the next morning, maybe because of the stress of almost being caught or from a doozy of a cum. Then again, I slept late most Saturdays. I’m a teenager after all. Mr. Goh, in Social Studies, went into this whole thing about how evolution designed things that teenagers stay up late, tending the fire while the hunters have sex and sleep. Then the teens sleep until noon the next day while the women get the day going and the men go out to hunt again. He didn’t say anything about the teens having sex while they stayed up late, but it makes sense to me. If the parents are asleep in the cave or stick shelter or whatever, and the teens are all up sitting around the campfire, what else are they going to do?
So I got up and went to the bathroom, to get rid of my morning wood, and I decided to get something to eat before I took my shower. Jasmine was sitting at the kitchen table leafing through a glamour magazine. She looked up when I came in the room.
“Hey,” she said.
“Isn’t that supposed to be ‘Hey, dickhead?’” I quipped. Don’t ask me why I did that. It was stupid. But I did and once something is out, you can’t get it back in.
“Okay,” she said, amiably. “Hey, dickhead.”
“Where’s Mom?” I asked. Some Saturdays Mom got up and made pancakes. I had hoped this was such a Saturday.
“She and Daddy went over to the hospital to visit some sick person,” she said. “They’re also going to go shopping and go to a movie while they’re there.”
“Oh,” I said. “I was hoping for pancakes.”
“Make them yourself,” she said.
“I don’t know how,” I admitted.
“It’s not rocket science,” she snorted.
You have to understand that this was probably the longest conversation we’d had in a long time. We didn’t just chat about stuff.
I opted not to engage in any science at all, rocket or otherwise, and got down a box of Fruity Pebbles. I poured a bowl and got the milk and sat down.
“Gee,” said Jasmine. “Did you get enough? Why not just eat straight out of the box?”
This was the more normal Jasmine. I ignored her.
Later, while I was eating, she noted, “Don’t be such a pig when you eat. Ewww. You’re so gross.”
“Takes one to know one,” I mumbled through a mouthful of colorful puffed cereal. I know, it was lame, but it was all I could come up with on the spur of the moment.
She sat there and ignored me, going back to her magazine. I ate, put the dishes in the sink and then left.
After an aberrant probably-one-time-only spurt of actual conversation, we had stopped talking to each other again.
Things were back to normal.
Chapter two
I said at the end of the last chapter that everything was back to normal again between my sister and me, but this the part which, if it were in a movie, there would be tense music playing and you’d know that everything was not back to normal. You wouldn’t know what was coming, but you’d know something was going to happen that was going to scare the shit out of you.
Me? I was fat, dumb, and happy, clueless in every sense of the word. Just like the character in that movie, who blithely goes forward to his doom while you out there in audience land yell at the screen, telling him not to open that door, or turn that corner or whatever. Well … your girlfriend yells like that. Not you. Us guys are too cool to talk to TV and movie screens.
And it was exactly like that scene in the Hitchcock thriller where the woman is in the shower and the guy whips the curtain back and sticks a knife in her. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly like that. I mean there was a glass door, not a shower curtain, and nobody had a knife. Nobody even ripped the door open. But it felt like somebody had stuck a knife in me.
That’s because while I was taking my shower, Jasmine walked in, put the lid to the toilet down, and sat on it, facing me. She just sat there, waiting.
And I could see her clear as day.
It turns out that water running down the glass of a frosted shower door does something to the optical quality of the glass that turns it clear. At least from the inside out. And that meant from the first time I snuck in to take a leak, to the last time I masturbated while staring at the same door she was staring at … my sister had seen everything I did as if there were no door there at all.
She didn’t do anything. She just sat there, looking at me through the door. I didn’t know what to do. I’d had the beginnings of a boner when I got in, anticipating maybe jerking off while I took my shower, but there was no bone in the boner now. No, sir. Not a splinter of a bone. In fact, my dick shrank and got like maybe an inch and a half long. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it with the hands I’d put over it when I realized how busted I was.
It was a long shower, but it couldn’t go on endlessly. Eventually the hot water ran out and it got really cold, so I had to turn the water off. Still, she just sat there.
Even in a situation like that you can’t just stay in there forever. The towels were all on racks outside the shower. You couldn’t reach over the door to get one. You had to at least open the door and reach through that opening. So that’s what I did.
I found out she’d removed all the towels and that they were on the floor next to her feet. I hadn’t noticed that, before.
“Need a towel?” she asked, her voice full of false innocence.
“What if Mom caught you in here?” I asked, gruffly, playing the big brother card.
Yeah, you can imagine how effective that was.
She tossed her head and her lip curled into an almost sneer as I remembered that our mother was forty miles away enjoying the day with our father.
I looked down at the neatly stacked towels on the floor by her right foot. I wanted to get one, but to do that I’d have to come out where my two-inch-long penis would be on full display. Even my balls were sucking up into my body at the moment.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Now I’ll tell you I was prepared to be blackmailed. Well, not exactly prepared, but you know that I mean. I probably should have said I expected her to blackmail me. I anticipated all sorts of dire threats to tell not only our parents, but all my friends, and all her friends and maybe even people at church all about how I was a pervert and a wanker who got off on watching his sister in the shower. She could ruin me pretty much forever if she wanted to. So the sky was the limit, in terms of what she could demand. I didn’t have a lot of money. In our little town the only jobs I could get were temporary odd jobs. I did, in theory, have a part time job at McDonald’s, but I only worked five or six hours a week, usually sorting through the nuts and creamers that customers had mixed up, or restocking bags of spices for various customers, both adults and children, stuff like that. I envisioned, briefly, having to do all her chores until I was in my thirties.
What I was not prepared for - and I now use that word in a more appropriate fashion - was for what she said.
“I figured if you get to watch me, then it’s only fair that I get to watch you,” she said.
My brilliant rejoinder was, “Uh … what?” My voice sounded like I was maybe twelve.
“What part of ‘I get to watch you’ didn’t you understand?” she asked. There was an edge to her voice. I found out later her expectations were for me to dance for joy. You know … go all pervy happy on her.
“Why?” I asked. I was truly mystified.
“Oh come on, Samuel,” she snorted. “You know why.”
“No I don’t,” I insisted, quite honestly.
“Why do you like watching me?” she asked.
I was rattled, which is probably why the first thing that popped into my head was what I said.
“Because you’re a frickin’ babe,” I said.
Now I know I said in the beginning of all this that Jasmine was very normal looking and all that. But my perception of her had morphed as my desires concerning her had morphed. She hadn’t gotten any better looking or anything. I just perceived her differently. That’s not odd. It doesn’t matter if you’re a guy or a girl, as you look around there are some people of the opposite sex who you are attracted to, and others you aren’t. But the ones you aren’t attracted to are attractive to somebody else, so it all works out in the end. No matter what you look like, somebody out there thinks you’re HOT.
I don’t know whether that’s what happened to me, or whether she just grew on me. Well, mostly she grew on me in the area of my groin. But how I thought about her had changed in my brain, too. I don’t know. All I know is that’s what popped into my mind, so that’s what I said. I met a professor since then who told me that when you are asked a question, the very first thing that pops into your mind is the truth. It might not be what you say, but it’s probably the truth.
This announcement was met with surprise. That’s probably no surprise to you, but it was to her. Her mouth opened and then closed again. I saw the blush that came from inside her T shirt and came up her neck to her cheeks.
“Really?” Her voice kind of squeaked.
I was beginning to realize that my life might not be over and that feeling made me so giddy that I had a hard time thinking rationally. I sort of nodded and I’m quite sure I had a goofy smile on my face.
“I just thought it was because the girls you went out with shut you down all the time,” she said.
That cut through my giddiness like a hot knife and the typical teenage male in me popped out.
“What?” I was injured! “I don’t get shut down!”
“Yes you do,” she snorted. “I talk to most of them. You have a reputation, Sam.”
“Reputation?”
“Yes. Believe it or not, all the girls around here think you’re a really nice guy.”
“What?” My voice rose. I was confused again. I wasn’t nice! I was manly! I was in shape, and had a twinkle in my eye. My mother said I reminded her of Daniel Wu. I didn’t know who he was, but I could tell by the way she said it that it meant I was good looking.
But the fact of it was that I did get shut down on dates pretty regularly. The farthest I had ever gotten was when Rebecca let me feel her breasts through her shirt (and bra) but that was about it. I got lots of kisses, had made out for hours, in fact, but when my hands roamed, they got pushed away.
“And that you don’t have a future,” added Jasmine.
You know that sound they use in the movies of a phonograph needle being scraped across the grooves of one of those old-timey records? I actually heard that in my head.
“What? What do you mean I don’t have a future? What kind of shit is that?”
My sister frowned. She didn’t like curse words and made no bones about expressing her distaste - with anybody! Including complete strangers.
“You haven’t applied to any colleges,” she said. “You don’t have any plans. To all the girls around here that means you’re going to stay here and work at McDonald’s for the rest of your life. They, on the other hand, have lots of plans, all of which involve getting them out of this town forever.”
I had no defense for that. I did not, in fact, have any idea what I was going to do when I graduated. The thought of four more years of books and tests and studying just didn’t have a lot of appeal to me. I had given some vague thought to the military, but even that hadn’t boiled down to which of the services I thought I might like. There was plenty of time for that. I had a whole year of college schooling left, after all.
“Let’s get back to this ’nice’ business,” I said.
“Oh, that?” She shrugged. “All that means is that most of the girls who go out with you are afraid they’ll like you too much.”
“What?” Now I was beyond mystified. I was astonished! “What the heck does that mean?” I was so agitated that I actually stepped out of the shower. Jasmine’s eyes shot straight to my less than impressive (at the moment) equipment. Then, to my surprise … and maybe just a little disappointment … her eyes came back up to my face.
“If a girl likes a boy … really likes him … she’s tempted to do things that aren’t wise. And if she does those things, then she usually falls in love with him. So if you don’t want to fall in love with a boy, you just don’t do those things. It’s simple, really. It’s actually kind of like what Mom says about saving yourself for that special person. You don’t want to lose control and do something stupid, like falling in love with somebody who has no future. That’s why you never get very far on your dates.”
“I have a future,” I said, defensively.
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
There we were, back to an area I didn’t really want to discuss. Well … couldn’t discuss, actually.
“Never mind that. Why are you here?”
“To watch you take a shower,” she said, simply.
“I know that part,” I groaned. “But why do you want to watch me take a shower?”
“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” she asked. “Why did you want to watch me?”
I was distracted by her use of “conversation” in the sentence. That’s because I realized I was actually having an extended conversation with my sister! And it seemed completely normal. Well, other than the fact that I was standing there naked and dripping. Actually, I wasn’t dripping all that much anymore. I looked down and saw the bath mat was pretty damp. I took a step and leaned down to get a towel. It covered my groin when I stood up, which I admit was intentional, but that didn’t last because I needed to dry my hair. But this situation was strange enough that I felt okay doing that. When I pulled the towel off my head, Jasmine’s eyes were on my dick again.
“It looks really thin not thick,” she observed. She looked up and must have seen something in my face (what would be on your face if some girl said that to you?) and she amended her comment. “Compared to what it’s like when you watch me in the shower,” she added. Then she went on some more. “From what I could see, anyway. It’s harder to see through the glass from the outside than I expected. It was easy to see it from the inside, but I thought you could see me that well, too, so I had to pretend I wasn’t looking at you. It definitely looks thinner now, though.”
I couldn’t very well tell her it was thinner because I was scared to death, so I went with something else. “This is weirding me out,” I said.
“Why? I’d think you were used to it after watching me all those times.”
“I didn’t know you could see me,” I said. “The glass is different from the outside. All I could see was a kind of blurry outline.”
“I know,” she said. “I figured that out when I came in here to watch you.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Neither of us said anything and it started to get uncomfortable. She broke the silence.
“So you got all excited over just my blurry outline?”
I still wasn’t home free on the blackmail front. And even though there had been nothing said about perverts or anything like that, I suddenly didn’t want my sister to think I was one.
“I didn’t actually mean for that to happen,” I said. “Not at first, anyway. It was sort of an accident. I had to pee really bad and I didn’t think you’d notice if I slipped in and did that and then left.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That was the first time. I saw you right away, but you did your business and left. I was mortified of course. I almost told Mom about it. But I thought about it and decided you were just being a jerk instead of a douche bag.”
The distinction was lost on me, but I didn’t particularly care for her to expound on that, so I moved on.
“The problem was that I did see your outline that time, and it was … sexy?”
I got the blush again.
“And it excited me,” I admitted.
“Who did you think about?” she asked.
“What?”
“What girl did you think about when you saw my form and got excited?”
“Nobody,” I said. “I thought about you.”
“No you didn’t. Guys don’t think about their sisters like that.”
“Well I did,” I admitted. “I thought, ‘That’s Jasmine in there, and she looks pretty good.’”
“Oh,” she said, going pink for a third time.
“But I felt bad about it,” I said. “When I got back to my bedroom I thought of other things.”
“You mean you looked at your dirty pictures,” she said.
The only way she could know about those was if she’d been snooping. I got mad but she held up a hand, facing me like a stop sign.
“I’m sorry. I found them last year. I haven’t violated your privacy since then.”
And that brought us up to the present.
“I’m sorry I violated yours,” I said. I meant it, too.
“I felt violated at first,” she admitted. “But not anymore.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Something strange happened,” she said.
“You can say that again,” I said. “This whole thing has been strange. What was the strangest part to you?”
I was being sarcastic, but she didn’t take it that way. In fact, she just answered the question.
“I realized I … um … kind of liked it,” she said, softly…. …..
