

     My Sister Jean - Chapter 20

          BillyG (hayden@mindless.com)


     Conclusion and a Resolution - Of Sorts


     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
     

     Little Cayman


          A sudden knock on the loose-fitting screen door sounded like
     a gun shot, loud and jarringly unexpected.

          With a faintly British accent, a young man's voice called
     out, "There's a phone call for Billy or Jean."  And in another
     moment, "Anyone there?"

          Jean and I looked at each other. I lifted an eyebrow that
     asked, 'Do you know?' She shrugged her shoulders as if to say,
     'Beat's me.'

           A naked Margi had slumped to her knees, one hand thrust
     between her thighs and the other unsuccessfully trying to cover
     her breasts.  We were all uncomfortably aware that whoever it was
     had only to step off the walk to look through the unshuttered
     screens to see the three of us, mostly naked.  We remained
     frozen.

          "Anyone home?" the disembodied voice asked again, and again
     knocked.

          Suddenly jarred from my inaction, I called out, "OK.  Be
     right there."  Turning to my sister and our friend, Margi, I held
     my hands out, palms up and whispered, "Stay here.  I'll be right
     back."

          Jean placed her hand on my arm and asked in a surprisingly
     loud voice, "Where'd you think we were going to go?"

          "Shit, I don't know . . . but wait anyway, OK?"

          Jean smiled and nodded.  "Hurry back."

          I slipped into some sailing shorts and a fresh T-shirt.  As
     I was leaving, I glanced back to see Jean kneeling beside the
     cowering Margi. It occurred to me that if Margi wasn't concerned
     about her nudity, she might understandably be concerned about her
     job at this remote and high-priced dive resort.

          Whoever had brought the message was gone when I went
     outside. Threading the darkened paths that connected our
     octagonal beach house with the larger central building, I
     reflected that only our Mom knew where we were. Entering the main
     structure, I walked into the bar where our hostess, Gladys,
     glanced up and nodded her head toward a phone receiver off the
     hook. "Your mom," she offered.

          "Hello?"

          "Billy?  How are you?  You and Jean OK?" It was Mom.

          Damn, I should have called to let her know.  "I'm sorry, Mom
     . . ." I began but she cut me off.

          "Don't worry about it.  That's OK.  Gladys already told me
     that everything's fine; I just wanted to hear your voice.  Or
     Jean's."

          "We're fine."  And then searching for something to say, I
     asked, "Remember Margi, the Dive Master from last year?"

          "Oh, yes.  I remember Margi.  I'm sure *you* do!"

          It amazed me how my mother could put so much suggestive
     meaning into her voice.

          Before I could frame an answer, she went on, "Gladys said
     that the three of you had gone to listen to CD's after dinner.
     Having fun?"

          Cripes.  Half a world away. Did we have any privacy?  I
     looked at Gladys and she smiled a conspiratorial, almost wolfish
     grin.

          "Uh . . . yes.  We were . . ." and I didn't know just what
     to say. "We were . . . uh, playing a game."

          "Truth or Dare?" Mom asked.

          What the hell is this, I wondered?

          "How'd you know?"  I asked, perplexed once again by my
     mother's seeming omniscience.

          "I didn't, but it's what came to mind.  Probably because
     that's what I'd do in the same situation."  She paused and then
     went on, "You and Jean explore 'your situation' anymore?"

          Our 'situation.' I was embarrassed.  Even though we'd had an
     open, heart-to-heart conversation about sex, Mom and me, I still
     found it difficult to be comfortably candid.

          "Uh . . . nothing new, Mom.  We're OK, honest."

          "Baby, I'm not checking up on you two.  I love you both and
     have confidence that whatever you do, it'll be all right.  Now
     get back to your party, tell Jean I love her and say hello to
     Margi.  And oh yes. Tell Margi not to do anything I wouldn't do .
     . . and that leaves her a lot of latitude. Bye." she ended up
     laughing.

          "Bye, Mom."

          I turned to leave and Gladys said, "Tell Margi to relax."

          "What?"

          "Just relax, have a good time . . . that's all."

          Once again I had the feeling that I wasn't completely in the
     know about what was going on.  Were we that transparent?

          I was mulling that over in my mind as I walked the darkened
     path back to our room.  I noticed that the blinds were drawn and
     the room apparently dark as I let myself in.  There was a yellow,
     dim light, a candle flickering on the night stand.  One of
     Margi's CDs was playing, a soft, melodic sound that I didn't
     recognize, but I liked.

          "Hi, Billy," two voices intoned, almost in unison. "Welcome
     back," added Jean.

          "Margi, Gladys says, 'relax'."

          "What?"

          "Relax.  She says to relax.  That's all.  You know what
     that's a about?"

          "Uh, I'm not quite sure.  But she thinks I'm too tense."

          As I dark adapted, I saw Jean was sitting on the floor, legs
     outstretched, her back against the foot of the bed and Margi was
     leaning back against Jean in turn, between her legs.  Jean was
     holding Margi loosely, one hand over a full breast.  Both were
     naked as best I could see in the flickering light.

          "We've been talking," Jean added, in response to the
     question unasked.  "Margi's been telling me about her sex life."

          Margi squirmed, I thought uncomfortably, and looked down,
     not saying anything.

          "Isn't that so, Margi?" Jean asked, nudging her breast.

          "Oh, Jean . . . don't," she murmured so softly I almost
     missed it.

          "Oh, Jean, yes.  Billy would be pleased to hear what you've
     been telling me."  And then turning to me, she added, "Our little
     Margi's really quite experienced, Billy.  Shy, but experienced.
     Right, Margi?"

          She murmured something.  I couldn't hear her, so I kneeled
     between her splayed legs and said, "What was that, sweet girl?
     What'd you say?"

          "She'll tell you, Billy, but first she's got to be relaxed.
     That phone call scared her.  Is everything all right?"

          I nodded and offered no further explanation.

          "Tell you what, Billy.  Pull up the ottoman there behind you
     and sit facing us.  Put your legs over Billy's, Margi so he can
     move in and be close.  OK?"

          Perhaps it was because of the dim, flickering candle light
     or perhaps Jean and Margi had come to some trust or understanding
     while I'd been talking with our mom because she didn't demure at
     all. Sliding up toward them, my own legs splayed, Margi lifted
     her's and dropped her thighs over mine.  In turn, my legs were
     draped over Jean's.  My dark adaptation and the candle light
     enabled me to appreciate the furry core of Margi's pelvis in the
     process.

          "Hmmmm, nice, Margi."

          "Are you commenting on Margi's pussy, Billy?"

          Margi gasped and I felt her trying to close her legs, but
     she was stuck in an open and exposed position.

          Not waiting for a reply, Jean went on, "Tell Billy what you
     told me a few minutes ago, Margi."

          "Oh, I couldn't . . ." she began but was cut off by Jean
     immediately.

          "Sure you can, girl."  Jean cupped both her breasts in her
     hands and rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger.  She
     then turned her attention to me.  "I'll start." she began.
     "Margi has always wanted to acknowledge her body as well as her
     sexuality.  She told me that making out in the dark is fun
     certainly, but not exciting.  She's attracted to the excitement.
     Aren't you, girl?"

          Margi glanced at me and then tried to look up at Jean but
     couldn't manage fully. Jean nudged her again and she nodded.

          "Aren't you?" prompted Jean.

          "Yes."

          "Yes, what?"

          "Yes, I love the excitement."

          "And?"

          "And . . . I'm too embarrassed to ask for it."

          Patiently, "For what, Margi?"

          "For someone to tell me what to do." she said softly and
     then gaining some confidence, added in a louder voice, "I want to
     do things. All sorts of things, you know - sexy things - but I'm
     too shy.  It's not that I don't want to try things, everything,
     it's that I'm so embarrassed.  If someone, you, *makes* me do
     things . . . well, then I can't refuse.  It's like it's not my
     fault.  Then it's OK.  Know what I mean?"

          "Good, Margi.  Now let me ask you this.  Are you willing to
     tell Billy what are deal is?"

          Margi nodded, studying the rug in front of her, not looking
     up.

          "ARE you, girl?"  Jean nudged her again.

          Margi suddenly looked up at me and stared for a long moment
     before saying,  "Yes, I am."

          I touched her for the first time.  I placed my hands on the
     tops of her thighs and slowly stroked up and down.  "Then tell
     me, Margi. What's the "deal' - the one you've made with Jean.
     I'd like to hear you tell me."

          She took a deep breath and blew it out.  Then another before
     beginning.  "I told Jean that I was so excited, so hot a little
     while ago - when we were playing Truth or Dare - that I would
     have done anything, and Jean asked, 'Anything?'"

          She took another breath and continued.  "When she asked me
     that, I was excited and afraid at the same time, but I guess I
     was more excited then frightened so I said, 'Yes, anything.'"

          Jean continued to roll Margi's nipples in her fingers.  They
     were swollen and dusky.  I hunched a little closer and ran my
     fingers over the tops of her thighs, ending just an inch away
     from her public thatch. "Go on," I urged.

          "She asked me if I'd be your slave for the night, the two of
     you's slave.  I wasn't sure what that meant, but somehow it made
     me wetter."

          She looked at me again and asked, "Know what I mean?"

          "The slave part or the wetter part?" I asked.

          "Uh . . . I figure you know about the wetter part.  I'm
     horny. But do you know about the slave part?  What does that mean
     to you?"

          "No, Margi.  The real question is: What does that mean to
     *you*?"

          She looked down, nibbling on her lower lip and brushed the
     top of her pubic hair with her fingers.  "Well, I *think* it
     means that I have to do what you tell me to do, that I have no
     choice."

          I traced a line across the top of her pubic bush, meeting
     her hand in the process.  She started to pull away but I grabbed
     her hand and pulled it back to the top of her pussy and held it
     there.

          "Margi, it's important to know that you *do* have a choice.
     You always do.  This is a game.  That's all it is.  And in this
     game, we play that you're a slave, our slave, and that you have
     to do the things we say.  Keep in mind, if you agree, we'll
     expect you to keep your bargain.  We'd never hurt you, but we
     might embarrass you and we just might make you even hornier.  But
     you do have a choice.  Do you understand that?"

          After I removed my hand from her's, she resumed touching the
     area around the top of her slit, idly moving her fingers through
     her bush.

          Oddly stronger, she went on.  "Oh, I know that.  And I've
     already made the decision.  That's the "deal" I made with Jean.
     I'm yours for the evening and I have to do what I'm told."
     Glancing back, she added, "Isn't the right?"

          Jean answered promptly, "That's right, girl and the first
     thing I want you to do is play with yourself.  I'll play with
     your tits.  You play with your little cunny. Yes, show Billy your
     pussy."

          Jean has assumed a firm, directing voice and I took my clue
     from that.  "While you're playing with yourself, Margi, tell us .
     . . when did you start masturbating?"

          She ran the index finger of her right hand up through her
     slit.  In the yellow light, I could see her finger glistening
     with her wetness.

          "Um . . . I'm not really sure.  A long time ago.  I was
     young.  I mean, very young.  Maybe eight.  Even seven.  I don't
     remember.  All I knew was that it felt really good and I knew I
     wasn't supposed to be doing that.  I didn't know why.  I don't
     remember anyone telling me not to touch myself, but I knew.
     Maybe my girlfriend told me.  I knew it was naughty, but it felt
     too good to stop."

          "Ever get caught?" Jean asked.

          Margi slipped two fingers into her slit and then rubbed her
     juice on my hand as I toyed with her pubic hair.  When I looked
     at her, her eyes were glistening, intense and wide open.  She
     smiled a little.

          "Several times.  It was embarrassing, but it also was
     exciting.  I think I *wanted* to get caught."

          "Did you cum then?" I asked, holding my hand up to my nose.

          Her eyes glittered as she watched me.  I smelled her and
     then touched my tongue to my fingers.  She jerked.

          Now a little more breathless, she answered, "I could cum as
     long as I can remember.  Just some were more powerful than
     others."

          I wondered what she was trying to tell us, but before I
     could frame another question, Jean asked, "Tell us about the
     powerful ones, girl. Can you remember what made them that way?"

          "Yes, I can . . . but I'm a little embarrassed to talk about
     it."

          Bending forward, I used my finger tips to pull open the lips
     of her pussy, watching her finger roll her clit.

          "Then all the more reason to tell us," I interjected.  "It's
     the stuff about which we are most embarrassed that's often behind
     the greatest erotic charge."

          "Exactly," chimed Jean.  "Remember, you're our slave, so
     tell us everything girlfriend."

          I presented the wet tips of my fingers to Jean.  She sniffed
     them and said, "I'm beginning to understand why you keep
     snitching my panties, Billy."

          Margi looked back and forth between us, straining her neck
     trying to see Jean behind her.  I nodded to her.  "Go on."

          "You guys make me forget what I'm saying . . ."

          "The most powerful cums," I prompted.

          "Oh yeah!  Well, it had something to do with the fear of
     getting found out.  That some one would catch me.  The closer I
     got to discovery, the more powerful my cums got.  A couple a
     times I got caught with my hand in my panties as I was about to
     cum and it shot me over the edge.  I just doubled up and groaned,
     it was so strong."

          I scrunched a little closer again.  Margi had to lift her
     thighs even higher as I moved in.  She looked down and saw my
     cock, inches from her.  She tentatively reached out to touch me
     and I said, "In a moment.  But right now, I want to look at you.
     I want to touch you. Have you ever been this open for anyone?"

          She shook her head and continued to look at my cock, now
     bobbing. I ran my finger through her slit.  It was swampy and the
     musky scent of her was filling the room.

          "And have you *wanted* to show yourself this way? "

          She nodded her head vigorously.  "All the time!  I don't
     understand it, but I *want* to be seen.  I put myself in
     positions where I'll be exposed and then almost die of
     embarrassment when I am.  And I keep doing it.  I get so hot
     sometimes I have to . . ."

          "Masturbate?" Jean prompted.

          "Yes.  I *have* to get off.  I even stick things up inside
     of me." She paused and then added, "God, I can't believe I said
     that!"

          Turning her back to the moment, I asked, "Can you feel it in
     your pussy when Jean pinches your nipples?"

          I nodded to Jean.  Margi gasped with the intensity of Jean's
     pinch. "Can you feel that in your little cunny, Margi?" Jean
     asked, tugging on her swollen nipples.

          Margi bobbed her head and groaned, as she slid down a bit,
     pushing her cunt at my fisted cock.  I slid the head of my dick
     up and down through her wet slit and said to her, "Margi, bring
     yourself off for us. Show us how you cum.  We want to watch you,
     your pussy, your sweet cunt. Watch it drool.  Make it foam, girl.
     Jill off for us."

          She looked wildly at me for a moment and then surrendering,
     she threw her head back, her neck arched, tits thrust forward and
     slipped the fingers of her right hand into her cunt as she began
     rolling her clitoral hood with her left hand.

          I began to tap on the engorged and jutting tip of her clit
     with the head of my cock, much as I'd done with Jean once a few
     years before. And like Jean had done, she began a grunting moan
     that sounded like, "Hmmmm, uh, uh, uh," over and over, thrusting
     her hips at me, plunging her fingers into her swampy core.  My
     desire was surging.

          As she slid forward again, I noted that Jean had pulled her
     hands away from Margi and into her own crotch.  At least it
     looked that way. I made eye contact with her and she looked
     almost pained. Her brows were knitted and she was biting her lip.
     Her eyes were open and wild with passion, unfocused.

          Margi had slid almost flat with her legs wrapped around me.
     My cock had been pulled down into the crack of her ass as I
     mindlessly began humping at her sexy, wet warmth.

          Jean pulled away and shifted position, now kneeling over
     Margi's head, her hand buried in her own cunt, frigging away,
     almost frantically.  Margi's unsupported head was thrown way
     back, neck hyper-extended, mouth open.  When I caught Jean's eye
     again, I nodded toward Margi's open mouth and Jean threw her leg
     over and lowered her cunt to Margi.

          Margi immediately opened her mouth and started to suck on my
     sister's pussy as she continued to frig her own cunt, now with
     three fingers jammed in and still blindly humping the air.

          Jean was moaning and grunting as she fingered her clit and
     Margi mouthed her slit.  No less intense, Margi continued to moan
     incoherently as she fucked her self with her bunched fingers, my
     hard cock rubbing the crevasse of her ass cheeks.  I wondered if
     she'd ever taken it up the ass.

          I wrenched myself back, pulling away from Margi.  Without
     looking, she pulled her mouth away from Jean long enough to moan,
     "No, please no."

          I kneeled between Margi's legs and pulled them up, pushing
     her knees toward her shoulders, baring her open and swollen sex
     as she crammed her fingers into herself.  Just below was her ass
     hole, fringed with dark hair.  I was desperate to sink my cock
     into something.

          "Margi, I'm going to fuck you.  You OK with that?  Want me
     to sink my hard cock into you soft cunt, girl?"

          She pulled back, took a breath and almost screamed, "YES!
     Yes. FUCK me--I want it--I need it.  Fuck me, please!"

          Unthinking, I leaned over her, pushing the head of my cock
     below her fingers.  She pulled out and grabbed my cock, guiding
     it into her core as I slowly sank into her, no more than a head's
     depth.

          "Want more than the head in there, girl?" I asked, trying to
     drive her crazy."

          Jean's voice entwined itself in our reverie, "Fuck her,
     Billy! Fuck her while I watch.  Yes, fuck her while she eats me.
     Oh, God.  Oh, shit.  This is so hot.  Put it in.  More!"

          "More, Margi?"

          "Oh GOD, don't tease me.  I'm gonna die.  Push it in,
     Please!"

          I eased in another inch, maybe two.

          "Yesss," she hissed and humped at me.

          "Yes," echoed Jean.  "Oh Christ, Billy.  I've wanted this
     and I've been afraid of this for so long.  Fuck HER, Billy and
     think about fucking me!"

          Bending forward and thrusting her hips out that she might
     see Margi better, Jean added, "Come on, girl.  Suck me.  Eat me
     while my brother fucks into your cunt.  Give me the fuck energy
     he's giving you. Fuck me with your tongue."

          I lost all restraint as I pulled back and then slammed into
     her as hard as I could.  I touched something back there, in the
     back of her cunt.  She grunted and bucked under me as I began a
     trip-hammer pounding, kneeling between her splayed thighs, my
     eyes locked with Jean's as we climbed higher and higher onto some
     impossible pinnacle. I lost track of time.  I lost track of
     Margi.  It came down to just the two of us.

          There was just me and there was just Jean, eyes locked,
     fucking and fucking, lost in the moment, lost in each other.

          She started first, as her head fell back and she grabbed her
     own breasts, humping Margi's mouth, her moan drawn out to a
     rising crescendo.   I remember thinking for a brief moment that
     I'd watch this erotic sight, but my own runaway orgasm caught me
     by surprise.

          I couldn't remember what we'd decided about her risk.  I
     pulled out and fisting my cock, I stroked it once, twice and a
     third time when I exploded.  The first thick white rope of cum
     landed on Jean's thigh. The next on Margi's chin and throat and
     the last on her chest and belly. A few more dribbles ended up in
     my hand.  I looked at the warm white puddle in my hand and then
     reached out and wiped it across Jean's breast.  Her nipple was
     pebble hard.

          We fell silent.  Frozen in the tableau, Jean sat back on her
     heels, freeing Margi's face.  I fell back on my heels and looked
     at the wreckage.  The only sound was our panting.  I couldn't
     really tell which was mine.

          Margi slowly lifted her head and make eye contact.  We
     looked at each other but didn't talk.  Couldn't talk.  We were
     drained.

          Margi ran her finger through a glob of my cum on her chest
     and looked at it.  She looked back at me and then placed the tip
     of her finger in her mouth, tasting me.

          Jean watched silently and then similarly picked up a clot of
     my jism with her finger and tasted it as well.

          The CD was still playing, but I'd not heard it in the past
     while. Gradually I heard again the waves on the beach as I
     reentered reality.

          I looked down.  I was still holding my cock, now soft and
     shriveled.  It looked almost pathetic, that once proud weapon now
     reduced to a soft, wet noodle.

          Jean cupped her cunt and held it for a moment before asking
     in a whisper, "Well, stud, how do you feel now?"

          "There are no words."

          "We finally got to 'do it' Billy."

          "Yeah.  I wonder if we'll ever get any closer, Jean?"

          "I don't know, Billy.  Maybe not.  Maybe this is it.  I just
     don't know.  But I am sure of one thing . . ."

          "What's that?"

          "We'll never be able to go back.  You can't go home again."


     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


     Epilogue


          Because we're still very much alive, Jean and I, there's no
     real ending to this story.  Still, for now, it needs to end
     somewhere and this is it.

          I've taken the remembering, the reliving, the healing of it
     all as far as I needed to.  I have other things to write, things
     apart and away from Jean.

          More, I have a jazzy life to live and the vibrancy of the
     moment, the here and now, is more vital than the sweet memories
     of what once was.  Given then and given now, it's a no-brainer.
     I'll go with the present moment any day.


     BillyG















