One morning in the summer of my fourteenth year I woke up with a much stiffer and thicker erection than any my young loins had ever before sustained.
I knew it must have some link with my sister, whose arrival the night before had made it difficult to get to sleep. I had scarcely seen her for five years, for after our mother and father separated we had been shuttled about from school to camp and back again.
But I knew as soon as we had rushed into each others' arms on her arrival that the slavish love for her I had felt as a young boy-when we had taken baths together and played tickling games, exposed ourselves and played house-was undiminished, even if she was now fifteen.
I slid out of bed, slipped on a bathrobe and headed for Sandy's room. Then I thought better of it and took off the robe as well as my pyjamas. What was the sense of covering up? We were going to have a whole summer together, under the half-blind eye of dotty grandma, while the parents wrangled far away in the city over the settlement and our custody. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had shot up in the last year, and even if I was a year younger than my sister, I was a couple of inches taller. I wasn't a skinny rail like most kids my age, either, but had begun to flesh out smoothly, and my erected standard was that of a man, not a boy.
I tiptoed into Sandy's room and closed the door silently behind me. She lay stretched on her stomach, facing me, still asleep. During the night she had wriggled free of the light covers, and either because she was too hot or too restless, had let her nightgown ride all the way up her thighs and halfway up her buttocks. I was amazed and excited by how much those perfectly round hills had grown, and how white they were in contrast to her golden, suntanned thighs.
I walked up to the bed and kneeled alongside her. She continued to breathe deeply in sleep. Her full red lips were parted in a sensual smile. Her long blonde hair lay strewn on the pillow, sparkling in the light from the open window.
Leaning forward, I brushed her lips with mine. She whimpered softly, but did not stir, so I laid my hand on her bare buttocks, marveling at their smoothness, and shook. She whimpered again.
“Wake up,” I said, and slapped her hard on her fanny.
She squealed, rose to her elbows, looked at me, looked down at her naked backside and with one motion covered it with her nightie and rolled over onto her side to face me.
Her breasts had grown alarmingly since the last time I had seen her with so little on. Their fullness pressed against the transparent silk of her garment and her sharp red nipples surrounded by their pink aureoles glowed through the fabric.
I vaulted onto the bed opposite her and stretched out in an imitation of her posture, chin in hand. Kneeling before her on the floor, my nakedness hadn't been visible to her, and now she let out another squeal, putting her hand to her mouth.
“Terry, you're naked!” she said, blushing a fiery red. “Put some clothes on!”
“What for? You've seen me like this a million times before. We're brother and sister, remember? Remember how we used to take baths together?”
“We were just little kids then. It was different.”
“Sure it was different. You weren't such a spoilsport then. Remember that time out in the woods when we stripped and I tied you to a tree and took those birch branches and-”
“No! I don't want to remember. Now put some clothes on.”
“Why don't you just take yours off?”
“I'm going to in a minute, as soon as you leave.”
“I'll stay. I'll put on something of yours.” I got up and went through the clothes piled on the chair alongside her bed. Picking out a pair of transparent bikini panties, I squeezed into them as Sandy watched me from behind. I turned around, and she started to giggle and blush again. I looked down and realized they were much too small and were slipping away, acting more like a sling than a garment.
“Terry, you're awful. You're a worse show-off than you were as a kid.”
“Let's take a bath,” I said.
“No!” She was off the bed, pushing me toward the door.
“It can be a bubble bath if you're afraid of showing your disease.”
“What disease?”
“Your skin disease. I knew there was something wrong with your body when you were so ashamed to be naked with me. You never were before.”
“There's nothing wrong with my body.”
“Then prove it.”
She let out a haughty grunt, wheeled around and pulled the garment over her head. I gasped at the sight of her naked buttocks again, now even more sensuous in their full context, in contrast to her girl's tiny waist, so smoothly flowing into the poised arch at the small of her back. Then she turned slowly, hands on her hips, inhaling deeply so that her ripe young breasts stuck out even more fully. The large, conical aureoles were of the smoothest, moistest pink flesh, and her cherry colored nipples were erect as two pencil erasers. The thighs, golden, which looked so firm from the side, were fleshly and round from the front, and converged on a thatch of peach-colored fuzz that only barely covered the two red lips of her sweet core.
I was quivering with desire now, and the chafing of the panties had agitated me almost to the point of explosion.
“God, Sandy, you're really beautiful!” I drank in the sight of her naked body, trying to cover every pore with my eyes as I walked up to her. “Wow! Can I touch you?” I stepped closer to her, and our bodies touched at three points.
“Skin disease, huh?” she sneered. “You'll pay for that remark!” She began shoving me toward the door. “You can take your bath by yourself, kid. Now get out!” She pushed me out altogether and slammed the door in my face.
Stunned and delirious with desire now, I staggered into the bathroom, stripped off the panties and began filling the tub. In case Sandy should change her mind I threw in some of the bubble bath she used to like and jumped into the steaming froth.
Two minutes later the door opened and closed and I looked up to see her standing beside me wearing a grin and nothing else.
“How's the water?”
“Hot. You change your mind?”
“Yup.” Facing me, she lifted a toe and lowered it into the water, spreading her legs as she did so. She pulled it back immediately.
“It is hot!”
“That's what I told you.”
Slowly, she lowered herself into the opposite end of the tub and leaned back, squeezing her buttocks between my legs and resting her feet in my lap. Her breasts were well above the water level, and when she began soaping them the nipples peeped through the lather like cherries in a wash of whipped cream. I wanted to eat of them, to bite into the pit.
“They're beautiful,” I said. “They've really gotten big.”
“What?”
“These.” I lifted a foot and pressed the sole softly against one of her breasts. I was surprised at how hot and hard the nipple was. “I can remember when they were just little buttons.”
She laughed and let the foot caress her as she breathed deeply and pushed into it. Then she brushed it away and let it drop into her hot lap. “I can remember when you were just a thimble,” she said. “You've gotten pretty big yourself.” With this, she slid her foot across my thigh until it rested squarely against the swollen, throbbing underside of my organ.
“That feels great,” I said, rubbing myself against her and shuddering with pleasure. She smiled slyly and slid her other leg across my thigh so that both feet now held me in a firm, fluid grip. As she played with me, so I began to play with her, sliding one foot against her abdomen, up to her breasts and back again and squeezing the other under her buttocks and coming up between her legs. I probed her with my wriggling toes until she began to sigh and gasp.
I had begun to move my pelvis rhythmically, up and down, in and out of the tight grip of her soft, soapy feet. The feverish excitement that had been building up in my loins since I awoke was now beginning to convulse my body with waves of pleasure infinitely exceeding anything I had felt in the wet dreams and dry fantasies of the months and years before. Sandy held on tight as I thrashed with her feet in the suds while against my feet she did a juicy dance of her own.
Suddenly I exploded in wash after wash of a furious ecstasy that shook my whole body and stiffened my arching back all the way. I howled with pleasure and then sank blubbering her name and relaxing back into the hot bath.
“What happened?” she asked. “Don't you want to play any more?”
“Of course I want to play with your-with you. That's all I want to do.” I began massaging her again with my foot.
“Let's rinse off and go into my room,” she o said, and stood up. She turned and began adjusting the shower spray, which came down in hot bullets. I stood up and pulled her to me, pressing myself into her buttocks. She turned, and we began pawing each other's body hungrily as the spray washed over us. I sank a sucking kiss into the crook of her neck and tried to kiss her mouth, but she slid out of my grip, giggling and bounding out of the shower. I caught her arm but she wriggled free and dashed back into her room.
I followed in hot pursuit, catching up to her alongside the bed and wrestling her down with me. We were a tangle of nude legs, arms, buttocks, breasts, bellies and genitals, rolling over and over in a sadistic tickling match that had both of us howling in tortuous glee.
At one point she had me pinned down-her thighs on top of mine, her abdomen pressing my organ against me, her breasts crushed into my chest, her forearms pressing down onto mine with all her weight. She tickled my ear with her mouth and her tongue-licking, biting, sucking, blowing hot and cold until it became unbearably exciting.
With all the strength my lithe young body could muster I heaved her over and rolled on top of her, grabbing her around the waist in a bear hug that enclosed her arms.
Then I began to tickle her. Raising my hips above hers and then lowering them, I began to brush my head back and forth across her lips, moving in ever so slightly and then withdrawing to tickle her some more.
I soon had her panting and writhing beneath me, begging me either to let her go or to give her all I had. I didn't know what she meant by giving her all I had, never having had a girl before, so I continued to tickle.
She seized the initiative. As I brushed once more across her and dipped lightly into her fold she thrust her hips up violently against mine and we were locked, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, pelvis to pelvis and bloodstream to incestuous bloodstream.
I didn't know what had happened but I had no time to be alarmed. My own delirious pleasure assured me the moans my sister was sounding into my ear had nothing to do with pain. And we began to move together, slowly at first and then more furiously, violently. We fit together perfectly, made of the same seed as we were, and our joint genes echoed in the rhythm of our thrust and counter thrust, in the way our hearts beat and our organs ground.
Young and impatient and utterly without experience until moments before, I drove away like a pile driver toward my own satisfaction. As I moved shudderingly toward the crescendo of sensation I could feel Sandy trying to hold me back but didn't know why and didn't stop but pumped and pumped until I broke into convulsions of blinding joy and stiffened my body into her as wave after wave of pleasure shocked through my bloodstream.
I collapsed onto her and then rolled away, sobbing with delirious satisfaction. I covered her shoulders and throat and breasts and face and feverish mouth with kisses. She seemed tense, unhappy, unsatisfied.
“What's the matter, Sandy?”
“Nothing,” she said, looking away.
“Was there something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“What, then?”
“I'll tell you later.”
“Shouldn't we have done that? Was there something wrong with us doing it?”
She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her breasts. She stared at me with those wide, stark blue eyes of hers, the pupils big and black, and kissed me with her open mouth. Then she leaned back again.
“There's supposed to be, but I think it's great. It's just-that it could have been better.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'll tell you later.”
“Tell me now.”
Our intimacy was busted into by the cracking, feeble voice of Grandma calling from the foot of the stairs below. “Children. Children! Time to get up. Breakfast is ready. You've slept long enough.” She rang her little dinner bell for several moments and then fell silent.
I looked for Sandy. She was gone. I got up and looked around. Under the bed. There she was.
“Get up. What are you doing under there?”
“I thought she was coming upstairs. I forgot all about her.”
“She hasn't come up these stairs for ten years. She's a cripple. You know that.”
“What if she heard us? She must have heard everything.”
“Sandy, what's the matter with you? She's stone deaf. What are you so ashamed of?”
“I'm not ashamed, Terry. I was just scared.”
She turned away. “You better go get dressed before she gets suspicious.”