Bob was good at basketball, but could his sister beat him at one on one? 
She could if she played the game by her own rules.  The story of how Bob
became an uncle.

Codes: mf rom 1st teen cons reluc inc bro sis het oral mastrb pett preg

   =======================================================

   Author's Note: This story was generated in my head when I read "Laurie"
posted by Alcemedies at Storiesonline.org in 2000.  He said "Laurie" was a
rewrite of something he'd found on the web, but didn't know who wrote it
originally.  I liked his re-write a lot, but it left an ache in my ... 
well, you know ...  I wanted to know where the brother and sister in his
story ended up.  So I decided to shamelessly steal his idea and enlarge it,
to get to where I wanted his story to go.  So, I asked him if I could and
he agreed, and here's a remake of a rewrite of somebody out there's
original story.  

========================================================================

   One On One With Uncle Bob

   By Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

   I woke up and drifted in that land between sleep and wakefulness that
feels so good on a Saturday morning.  I didn't have anything to do ... 
well, not counting mowing the lawn and helping Mom wash the windows, and
fixing the chain on my bike that had slipped off the sprocket when I didn't
want to get my hands all greasy to fix it.

   But basically I still had some time to loaf, and I did it in bed.

   Dad worked Saturdays, at his furniture store.  I was only fifteen, and
exempt for a couple of more years from being drafted to work there too.  I
was kind of conflicted about that.  I knew he'd pay me if I worked for him,
and that would be nice, but having the freedom to sleep in on Saturdays and
run around was really precious too, you know?

   So I lay there and thought about girls.

   I thought about Becky Thompson, who had kissed me at the Freshman dance
at the end of school last year, but who wasn't allowed to date.  She'd made
the most of being able to be with a boy that night, let me tell you.  She
rubbed all up against me and held me real tight while we danced and then
kissed me on the last dance.  I'd gone home with a boner you could have
broken concrete with.

   Then there was Ruthie Valdez, who was a dusky-skinned Hispanic girl who
sat beside me in World History.  She had dark eyes and big breasts and she
wore sweaters a lot that did nothing to hide them.  She didn't overtly
flirt with me or anything ...  she was just friendly and that was all it
took for my fifteen year old imagination to take off from there.  I
imagined her body like I had seen Hispanic models in Playboy, with that
black pubic hair and dark nipples.  She was good for a boner too.

   Lindy Breckenridge was one of my best friends from down the street, and
we had grown up together.  She was blond and perky and somewhere along the
way she grew breasts and hips and her lips got all full and pouty.  She
still wore her hair in a pony tail almost all the time and that got to me
too, even though she'd always worn it that way.  She and I had played "You
show me yours and I'll show you mine" back when we were about eleven, and
had stood facing each other naked for what seemed like two hours, just
staring at each other.  I got a boner then too.  Then, without a word, she
had bent over, pulled on her clothes and ran ...  RAN ...  out of the shed
we were in.  After that she wouldn't play that game any more.  We never
talked about it, really.  It was just like "Been there, done that, got that
T shirt." ...  at least for her.  But I remembered her, and as she grew
those breasts and hips and pouty lips it wasn't hard for me to superimpose
them over her real memory.  She was always good for a boner, but I didn't
ever tell her that.

   Just thinking about those three girls had given me the boner I wanted to
produce, so I could stroke the crap out of it and squirt, which was the
best way in the world to start a Saturday morning.  So I stroked and
dreamed and was about to fill up a Kleenex when my sister pounded on my
door and yelled.

   "GET UP SQUIRT, MOM WENT TO GET WINDOW WASHING STUFF AND TOLD ME TO HAVE
YOU READY WHEN SHE GETS BACK."

   Damn!

   I knew that if I didn't get up she'd come barging in, so I left off
taking care of things and got up.  I was wearing the PJs my Aunt gave me.
They had footballs and baseballs and soccer balls and all that crap on
them, like they were for a seven year old, but they were kind of like
boxers ...  loose and comfortable and light, so I wore them.

   All of a sudden I was famished.  I decided to get dressed after
breakfast.

   Jill had gone downstairs after she ruined my morning wakeup ritual, and
was coming back up to her room, I guess.  She was still dressed in her
sleep shirt, which was really a 2X T shirt that had a picture of Jimmy
Hendrix on it playing a guitar.  It was my Dad's, but she stole it and got
away with it.  She always gets away with anything she wants to.  She thinks
because she's two years older than me ...  well a year and a half, anyway,
that she's special or something.  She liked to tease me too, which is why
she called me "Squirt" all the time.  She knew I didn't like it.

   So I didn't, like flatten myself against the wall to let her by or
anything.  I mean the hallway is wide enough for two people to cross paths
if they're polite, you know?

   And as I went past her, she pinched my butt!  HARD!

   "Hey!" I twisted away from her.  She was laughing and bent over, trying
to reach around me and pinch me again!

   "Knock it off!" I yelped, dancing around and batting at her hands.

   "Poor baby" she crooned, still trying to get to my butt.  I noticed that
her shirt collar was kind of loose, and I could see most of two
surprisingly big and soft looking boobs.

   She got me again because I was distracted and I yelled.  It HURT!

   Well, you know what they say.  The best defense is a good offense.

   So I went after HER ass.  I basically just walked toward her, instead of
trying to get away, and surprised her.  I crushed her against the wall with
my upper body and grabbed two handfuls of ass that were surprisingly round
and soft.  Except I didn't pinch them, exactly.  I just squeezed them
really hard.  Except that they were so big and spongy that I couldn't
really squeeze them all that hard.

   She shrieked, oddly enough in a laughing way, like she was actually glad
I was standing up for myself or something and her fingers dug into my ribs
where she knew I was ticklish.

   I really AM ticklish.  I mean I get incapacitated when I get tickled, so
I backed off so fast I banged into the other wall.  She was laughing again,
her fingers reaching for me as I swung my arms trying to keep her hands
away from my ribs.

   Suddenly she stopped.  She turned and walked away, like it was all over.
Then she looked over her shoulder at me and bent over and wagged her butt
at me.

   "Is this what squirt likes?" she teased.  "Is this what pervert little
brother wants to touch?"

   I must have gotten one of those looks on my face that told her I was
mad, because she ran.

   Maybe if she wouldn't have run, I wouldn't have chased her.  I don't
know.  I knew that if I caught her all she'd do was tickle her way free,
but something snapped in me and I took off after her growling like a bear.
She shrieked again, laughing and looking over her shoulder at me, until she
reached her room and swung inside.

   I charged in after her.  What I didn't know was that, as she gripped the
door jamb to swing into her room, she kept hold of it, swinging all the way
around and against the wall.  I dashed right past her, thinking she was
going for her bed, to put it between her and me, and she was on me from
behind like a cat on a mouse.

   I was headed for the bed, and when she crashed into the back of me, her
hands reaching around me to tickle, she just pushed me faster and we both
fell down on her bed, kind of sideways.  I tried to roll as she bounced up
into the air a little bit and ended up under her, with her straddling my
waist.  Her hands went straight for my ribs.

   My head and legs were hanging off opposite sides of her bed and I did a
kind of sit-up and rolled, trying to get out from under her.  All that did
was get me stretched out on the bed with her still straddling me, sitting
on my abdomen.

   She had this evil grin on her face.  I was taller than her, and had
pretty good muscles, but you can't use all that when you're as ticklish as
I am, and all I could do was try and grab her wrists.  I got one of them,
but she managed to dig her other fingers into my ribs and I jerked, lifting
both of us up off the bed.

   That was when I saw her pussy.

   She wasn't wearing panties.  Her shirt was up around her hips, kind of
pulled back behind her, and I could see almost from her belly button clear
down to two fat looking pink lips that were pressed together under a fluff
of reddish looking hair.  Her hair is kind of reddish or auburn or whatever
color they call brown with red glints to it.  Her pussy hair was the same
color, if a little lighter, and with a little more red to it.

   Now I know she was my sister and all, but I was fifteen, and, not
counting Lindy, this was the first real live pussy I had ever seen.  And
this one didn't look ANYTHING like Lindy's had.

   So I stared.

   Well, that distracted me and she got her other hand loose and, not
knowing that she was giving me a sweet shot, she went back to tickling.  I
swear I didn't mean to do it, but as I tried frantically to tickle back, I
suddenly had two hands full of the softest, most fantastic feeling breasts
a boy could imagine.  It was amazing.  They looked so firm and hard when
she walked around.  Maybe a bra makes them look like that.  I had been
hugged by women, and their breasts felt mostly firm and stuff.  I could
feel two bumps that I knew were nipples and, as my hands slid around on her
boobs I could feel that THOSE were hard, but the breasts they were attached
to were amazingly soft.

   She froze, and the strangest look came over her face as she looked down
to see my two hands fastened firmly on her tits, one on either side of
Jimmy Hendrix, who was flailing away at his guitar, oblivious of what was
going on right underneath him.

   You know how they do things in slow motion in the movies, to let you
fully experience all the things that are happening in a rush during a
scene?

   It was like that.  I felt her breasts under my hands, and I looked at
her pussy, and I felt cool air on my prick, which I realized was hard as a
rock.

   Wait a minute.

   COOL air on my prick?

   My PJs had a hole in the front, with no buttons, like boxers do, and all
our wiggling had gotten my little man through that hole and when my eyes
announced to my brain "PUSSY!" and then "TITS!" my brain ordered "HARDON
NOW!"

   Meanwhile Jill was looking down at what I was holding onto like a
drowning sailor holds onto a life preserver and she saw what I had been
staring at, namely, her naked pussy.

   She made a kind of gurgling noise.  It wasn't words, really, and her
hands went from tickling to pressing on my chest as she flexed her knees
and tried to get off of me.

   I, on the other hand, knew that if she DID get off me, my rampant boner
would be exposed for all the world to see.  Well, for Jill to see anyway,
and I had no doubt whatsoever that she would NOT appreciate that.

   So I let go of her boobs and grabbed her wrists and tried to keep her
from getting off.

   THAT's how important I thought it was.  I actually let go of real
breasts!

   All that did was let her scoot her butt back and, since it was raised at
the time, it managed to clear my prick, which was leaning drunkenly, like
it was looking at my face.  I knew it had been looking at her pussy too, or
trying to, but her butt cheeks were in the way.

   Until now.

   Now, old faithful had a clear view of her pussy.  I actually expected it
to stand up, like a little kid trying to reach candy on a counter top
that's just a little too far up to reach.

   But it didn't.  Instead it drooled a little bit, like an old man sitting
in a rocking chair on the porch while a flock of cheerleaders prances by.

   End of slow motion.  The world sped back up.

   Jill, unable to get loose, sat back down.

   I think she could feel that there was something there, because she
looked down and there, as if by magic, it looked like she had a prick.  The
head and maybe an inch stuck out through her fluffy red pubes.

   OK, slow motion again.  I know this is distracting as you read this, but
it helps me think about what happened then.

   About ten emotions flitted across her face.  She frowned, and then her
eyebrows went up and her forehead wrinkled, and her mouth fell open and her
eyes darted to mine which, oddly enough were on hers, and then she made a
kind of grimace with her mouth and her face smoothed out and ...  she
licked her lips.

   I swear it's true.  She licked her lips.

   Now maybe that seems like a little thing to you.  People probably lick
their lips a thousand times a day.  But you see, while she was licking her
lips she was NOT screaming at me, which I expected to happen any second.  I
mean she knew that wasn't HER prick sitting there all snuggled up against
those puffy pussy lips.

   I was paralyzed.  I knew my life was over.  Maybe that's why, with just
a little flick of her wrists she was able to get them loose.  She put her
hands back on my chest and I could feel them pushing, but what she did was
scoot back a little more until her butt firmly encountered my balls, which
were, as you might remember, at full capacity from not being emptied that
morning.  She stared at the couple more inches of my penis that were
uncovered and she sort of relaxed.

   That's the only way I can describe it.  We had both been all tense and
fighting and all that and now she just sat, leaning on my chest.

   Then I felt her hands dig into my chest and she pulled, sliding her
pussy along my prick until the head just vanished into her reddish hair.

   I felt the head of my prick suddenly enveloped by heat, which lasted
just long enough to freeze my brain and, as she scooted back down toward my
feet I saw that those tightly closed pussy lips weren't tightly closed any
more.  Instead they were riding my prick like a saddle fits on a horse. 
The thought that that heat I had felt might be her pussy mouth just
electrified me and I went rigid all over.

   I swear it felt like it took ten minutes for her to move those three
inches, back and forth.  That's why I had to put it into slow motion again.

   Anyway, things went back to normal motion again and she started sliding
back and forth, her breath coming faster and faster.  She licked her lips
again and, for some reason, looked up at the ceiling.  I couldn't look at
anything.  What I was feeling was the most fabulous, most amazing, most
mind boggling thing I had ever felt.

   She looked back down and she had her teeth closed real tight, and her
mouth stretched like she was smiling on purpose, you know that fake smile
Miss America uses all the time, and she made a high pitched keening sound
as she ground down against me.

   Well, fifteen I may have been, but I had a pretty good idea that she was
having an orgasm and I had dreamed of a girl having an orgasm around my
prick at least a thousand times.  That was what usually set me off while I
was flailing away at my little buddy.

   It was no different this time.

   My balls gave a jump and a stream of spunk shot out of my cock.  She
happened to be in the back position at the time, and the stream was
unobstructed.  It hit me right on my solar plexus and then pooled down onto
my stomach, which had sucked in so far my backbone was probably visible.

   She heard me hiss and looked down just as she slid back forward and
another rope of stuff blasted out.  That one was NOT unobstructed.  Her
pussy got in the way, sinking down to half cover the head of my dick as it
spat and getting her pretty pussy mouth all spermy.

   She gasped and I thought her fingernails would tear out my pecks.  She
got all wild, rubbing this way and that, pushing her pussy all over the
puddle of sperm on my stomach as my prick kept squirting.  Then she lifted
back up and settled down on top of my prick again, rubbing there.

   All that ...  from the time we hit the bed, to right here in the story,
probably only took three minutes.  It felt like hours, and I didn't want it
to quit, but the sound of Mom opening the back door and coming into the
kitchen pierced into our brains like a bullet.

   Now she scrambled off of me and fled like dogs were chasing her.

   I looked down at my prick, which was going soft fast, and at the mess my
sister had left on my stomach, and simply got up and dashed to the
bathroom. I went in the shower with my PJs still on and turned on the
water.

   It was freezing.

   I wanted to scream, but I didn't.  I just danced around, trying to wipe
myself clean before Mom came in and saw all that white stuff streaked all
over me.

   She didn't, though, and eventually the water warmed up and I took off my
PJs and washed them out and wrung them as dry as I could.  I figured I
could hang them on my desk chair or something to let them dry.  Then I
dashed for my room.

   I could hear my mother's footsteps as she trotted up the stairs from the
kitchen.  "Jill?...  Bobby?..." She called out.  "Come help me, I've got
groceries in the car that need to be put away..."

   I heard Jill's door open as I pulled a T-shirt over my head, realizing
that my hair was still slightly wet, both from my shower as well as my own
perspiration.

   "Cuuuuming" I heard my sister sing out.

   I mean it sounded like that.  You guys out there will know what I'm
talking about next.

   I felt one of those explosive laughs burst out of me, like when you want
to cry during a movie, but you can't because you don't want anybody to see
you do that.  It happens during sad movies to me sometimes, like when the
dog dies or something.  You hold it all in until it just won't STAY in and
then when you feel it getting ready to break out you turn it into a laugh
somehow.  It doesn't even sound like you're laughing and it's easy for it
to turn into a sobbing jag.

   Girls just go ahead and sob and cry and probably have no idea what I'm
talking about.

   Anyway, I heard her meet our mother in the hall and I couldn't go out
there because I knew I'd lose it.

   "I thought you were just going to get cleaning supplies." said Jill, her
voice sounding completely, unbelievably normal.  There was no trace of the
fact that only moments before, her pussy had been messy with her own
brother's spooge.  Come to think of it it might STILL be all spooged up,
seeing as how I was in the shower, which meant she wasn't.

   "Well, you know.  I was there, and we needed some things ..." said Mom.

   Mom's voice was normal too.  Normal like Jill's.  For some reason I had
this sudden image of my mother sitting on some guy doing what Jill had just
done instead of being at the store like she said.  The guy didn't have a
face in my mental image, but it wasn't my father, because he was at work.
Funny how the mind works.  My mother, in this little flash of mental
vision, had Jill's body, but it was definitely my mother.  It was like you
couldn't trust anybody's normal voice.

   I know that sounds stupid to you, but think about it ...  what would my
mom have probably said if somebody walked up to her right then and said
"Guess what your son and daughter were just doing ..." She wouldn't have
believed it ...  not right then anyway.  One look at me and she'd know it
was true, but she'd never just ...  believe it ...  not right off like
that.

   And if somebody came up to me and said "Hey, I just saw your mother
naked riding this guy on a park bench over on third street." I wouldn't
have believed that for a second either.  But WE had ...  so couldn't she?

   So the idea that SHE might have been doing something like that while WE
were doing something like that didn't seem so crazy to my ...  well
stressed out mind.

   I took a deep breath and blew it out.  This was crazy.  I did it again
and felt a little more calm.

   My mom's voice went on.  "Go ahead and get started, I'm just going to
put these in the bathroom and then I'll be down to help." My mother said.
"Where's Bobby...?" She asked, walking down the hall toward her bedroom,
which was across the hall from ours.  I opened my door to find her standing
right in front of me, holding a shopping bag in her arms.

   "Oh my?  Bobby...  what happened to you?" She asked in surprise, and I
felt her eyes staring at me as she stood in front of me in the hallway. 
"Are you okay?"

   Leave it to a mother to know something even though there are no visible
clues and all the evidence has been washed down the drain.

   And what do you say when the woman standing in front of you knows you
inside out, has caught you every time you told even a tiny white lie, and
can read you like a book?

   And leave it to the sister involved, who always got away with everything
she ever tried to get away with, and who could lie straight-faced to BOTH
parents and never get a raised eyebrow ...  to save me.

   Jill popped her head around the corner.  "He's all bent out of shape
because I beat him in a game a little while ago.  I think he's one of those
macho types who can't take it when a girl gets ...  the BEST of him." She
giggled.

   I'm telling you she was shameless.  She put that emphasis on "best" and
I knew exactly what she was talking about.  I swear she was enjoying
watching me squirm as I stood in front of my mother.

   "A game...?" My mother asked, "...  what kind of game?" She turned to
Jill, who was still grinning, almost gloating as she stood with her hands
an her hips and her foot cocked out in triumph.

   "One on One." Jill said.  She saw me looking at her and grinned wider.

   "Basketball?" asked my mother, her mouth open.  "You actually beat him
at basketball?"

   "I'm telling you," said my sister, "I handled the ball MUCH better than
he did." She giggled again.  "I wanted to play him at STICK ball, but he
was too chicken."

   "Stickball?" asked my mother.  "You can't play stickball with just two
people."

   "You can too." said Jill, like she was having a serious conversation
instead of what she was really doing ...  torturing me.  "It's HARD, and
you get all out of breath ...  but you can play.  Of course you have to
have a good STICK and a good BALL.  Maybe that's why he wouldn't play.  He
probably doesn't have either."

   My mother wasn't stupid.  She could tell by the emphasis on words that
Jill was doing something.  And since I was the only other person around she
jumped to exactly the right conclusion.

   "Don't tease your brother, dear." she said, heading on down the hall. 
Boys are sensitive about things like that.  Be nice."

   "He sure is sensitive ...  I'll admit that." said Jill grinning.  "But
don't worry Mom," she went on, "if Bobby plays his card's right, I might
just give him another shot at it."

   She had to turn around and run back to the kitchen to keep from laughing
out loud.

   I wondered about that all afternoon.  What had happened was so wild and
unexpected that I didn't know what to think about it.  Jill acted like
nothing at all had happened, except to tease me about it.  I had fantasized
about what she did on dates with the guys she went out with and, as I
pounded my meat I dreamed that guys were fucking her and blowing their wads
in her pussy.  But I didn't really have any evidence that any of that had
happened.

   I even tried to talk to her about it, but every time she looked around
and said "Not now squirt." Then she said "Squirt" again and laughed.

   I got pissed then.  She was making fun of me and I didn't like that at
all.  Later that night, at dinner, I wouldn't talk to her.  My dad noticed.

   "What's got you all riled up?" he asked conversationally.

   "Nothing." I said sullenly.

   My mom, not knowing she had no clue, filled him in.  "Jill beat him at a
game of basketball today and he's all upset about it.

   "I am NOT." I objected.

   "Look, son," said my father, going into lecture mode.  "Don't ever think
that just because you're a guy, that women can't compete with you, or that
just because you have a gift with the ball, that someone else won't be able
to take you down.  You always have to go the distance, or you'll never
score when scoring is important.

   Jill didn't help anything by snickering.  She thought the whole thing
was a big joke and Dad's choice of words didn't help a bit.

   But she straightened up for the rest of dinner and then ignored me the
rest of the evening, like I didn't exist.

   Which is why I was pretty dumbfounded when she slipped into my room
later that night.

   Mom had turned off the TV, which was her announcement that it was time
for bed.  Dad was snoring in the chair and she rousted him out while Jill
and I got up and went to our rooms.  By the time I'd changed for bed and
found my place in my book, I knew that both Mom and Dad would be snoring by
now.  I was reading about one of my favorite heroes, a guy named Dirk Pitt,
who was everything I ever wanted to be.

   "What are you doing?" I asked her.

   "I want to play one on one again." she said smiling.

   "You're crazy." I said.

   "Come on ...  you liked it ...  that was obvious." she grinned.

   "You're only making fun of me." I said, not impressed.

   "I had to you idiot." she said, standing there in the same T shirt she
had been wearing earlier.  I couldn't help but wonder if she had on panties
under it this time.  "Mom would have known something was ...  UP ..." she
giggled.

   "I'm your brother." I pointed out unnecessarily.

   "I know that." she said.

   "Brothers and sisters aren't supposed to do that stuff." I said.

   "You liked it." she insisted.  "And so did I."

   Now THAT was a revelation.  I was still convinced, for some reason, that
she was playing with me ...  and I don't mean playing with me like you
think.  If I would have thought about it a little I'd have realized there
was no way she'd come to my room in the middle of the night just to tease
me.

   "So go play one on one with one of your boyfriends." I said.

   "No way, Ho-sea" she rhymed.

   "Come on, I know you've done it before." I said.

   "Nope." she announced firmly.  "Not ever.  Yours is the only one to ever
touch me ...  there."

   I was astounded.  All those fantasies I had spurted to were ... 
fantasies.

   "Really?" I wasn't completely convinced, even though she sounded like
she was telling the truth.  Remember, she could lie with a straight face
better than anybody I knew.

   "What about all those guys you go out with?" I asked.  "Don't they ever
want to ...?"

   She tossed her head and her hair flipped in a way that made my gut
tight.

   "Of course they try," she dragged out the last word, sounding AND
looking somehow innocent, like a little girl.  "But I don't let them do
anything." she finished.  "I do a few things for THEM, and then they're all
happy."

   "Not even your ...  boobs?" I was incredulous.

   "They're breasts, little brother ...  not boobs." she said, sounding
like my Aunt Virginia.  "And yes, I let them do things there sometimes."
she said.  "But that's different." she added primly.

   I wanted to believe her, but I was still a little wary.

   "So ...  why would you let ME touch you ...  down there ...  if you
won't let THEM touch you?" I asked.  It seemed like a logical question to
me.

   "Because I can TRUST you, you idiot." she said.  Her words were harsh,
but her tone of voice wasn't that way at all.  She almost sounded tender
about it somehow.

   "Oh." I said.  It was one of the nicest things she'd ever said to me,
even with the idiot part thrown in there.

   It was quiet for what seemed like a long time and I finally said.  "OK,
so what do you want me to do?"

   She smiled, and my heart started thudding in my chest, just like that. I
could feel it pounding.

   "Just like before." she said, stepping towards me.  "All you have to do
is lie there.  I'll tell you what to do."

   Then she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her
head.

   Remember that slow motion stuff?  Imagine, in ultra slow motion, as
first her thighs, and then her pussy, with fluffy soft hair are exposed. 
Then her flat belly, and her belly button.  Then there was the swell of
flesh at the bottom of her breasts ...  followed by more swelling flesh ...
until two bright pink nipples are exposed.  At this point she's faceless,
kind of like that statue of Venus De whoever, except instead of no arms,
she has no head.  There's nothing visible in the whole room except her
body, pale and soft looking in the light of my reading lamp.

   Then her head and face came into view and she sort of tossed the shirt,
like it was something she didn't want to touch and she stood there.  She
was so beautiful I couldn't breathe.  She had a tiny little frown on her
face that crinkled her forehead just a little.  Something I had never seen
came into her eyes.  Her body got stiff somehow and her arms hung at an odd
angle.  She looked ...  tense.

   "Well?" she whispered.

   CHAPTER TWO

   I was in a hazy world, where my sister stood naked before me, asking
some kind of question which I wasn't at all sure I knew how to answer.

   Then, understanding hit me like a brick.  My sister ...  my BIG sister
...  my supremely confident, all knowing, Queen of the High School sister
...  didn't know whether she looked good naked or not.

   I had the opportunity of a lifetime.  I could have said "Gee, is that
all there is?" or maybe "Whoa, sis, don't be doing that for any guys you
really like." or even "Well, it's hard to get into modeling anyway, even if
you DO have a pretty face." All the cuts she'd thrown at me, all the
bossing around she'd done, all the times I'd wanted to choke the life out
of her ...  all of those could have been answered right then and there.

   But you know what?  None of those things even flitted through my mind. I
was in love.  She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, Playboy
included.  Right then and there I'd have rather looked at her like that
than any movie star, or cheerleader or anybody.

   I had to swallow before I could say anything.

   "You're beautiful." I said.

   Go figure.  I could have waxed poetic.  I could have been articulate and
suave.  I could have said something clever that would make her love me like
I loved her at that moment.  And all I could come up with was something
just a bare step higher than "Hey babe, you're pretty good looking."

   It was a night (day too) for astonishment.

   The way she reacted to those two little simple words was astounding.  If
you've ever seen that movie called "True Lies", where Jamie Lee Curtis goes
to this hotel room and a guy (her husband, but she doesn't know that) tells
her to dance.  She's the most amazing actress in that scene because she's
all awkward at first, and her arms and legs don't work right, but suddenly
she gets into it and then dances in the most sexy way imaginable.  My
sister looked just like that.  First she relaxed and her awkward stance
vanished.  She got this smile on her face that just made me want to squirt
right then and there.  And then she rushed to the bed and leaned over and
kissed me right on the lips.

   Man, her lips were warm and soft.  She was moving her head around as she
kissed me.  I was so surprised that my eyes were still open, but I could
see hers were closed.  Everybody knows that means a girl really means it
when she kisses you with her eyes closed.  Ricky Thompson told me that last
year and he's the smartest guy I know.

   She was sucking somehow and when she pulled away from me my lips stuck
to hers for a second.

   "Thank you." she breathed in my face.

   "No problem." spouted out of my mouth.

   It was a habit.  I always say that when somebody says "Thank you." But
it sure sounded stupid right then.

   Jill didn't seem to notice though.  She grabbed the sheet, which was at
my waist, and whipped it back to reveal me in my briefs.  My PJs were still
a little damp, hanging on my desk chair, so I just wore my underwear to
bed.

   But briefs kind of do a really good job of showing off what you have,
you know?  And what I had was already pretty excited.  It had started
getting excited when she took her shirt off, and that kiss sort of finished
the project.  I was hard as a rock and the lump even looked huge to me.  I
glanced at her and she was staring at it.

   "Take them off." she said softly.

   Well, duh.  Why hadn't I already thought of that.  I wiggled them down,
unleashing the donkey dick.  Unlike her, I wasn't worried about whether she
thought it was pretty or not.  I just wanted something to happen to it.

   "Wow." she said.  It wasn't an excited kind of wow ...  more of a "I
don't know what to think." kind of wow.

   "Wow?" I responded.  Now I was a little concerned.

   "It's bigger than I thought." she said.

   "What do you mean?" I asked.  "You just saw it this morning."

   "Not really." she said, her eyes never leaving my prick.  "Everything
happened so fast I never really got a chance to look at it."

   No slow motion for her, I guess.

   "I guess it is a little bigger than usual." I admitted.  I had suffered
in gym class for two years.  I had an unofficial nickname - "Hoser" - which
was awarded to me by a popular guy who liked me.  His nickname for me
replaced "Donkey Dick".  Most of they guys didn't hassel me much any more.
I guess they were all used to it.  My sister wasn't, and I was afraid she
was going to turn around and leave.

   "Are you kidding me?" she asked, finally looking at my face.  "That
thing's fucking HUGE."

   I had never heard her use a single bad word in my whole life.  Oh, she
said "crap" and "bull" and maybe "damn", you know ...  all those sort of
half way curse words that old people frown at ...  but I'd never heard her
use the F word.

   "It's not like I'm deformed or anything." I said, slightly injured. 
Here I had called her beautiful and she was saying I was some kind of
monster.

   She looked back at my dick, and then back at my face.

   "I jerked off Danny Trimble after Prom.  I could get my hand all the way
around his with no problem." she said.  Danny was a senior and thought he
was the cock of the walk.  He was the captain of the football team and
could bench press twice his body weight.  He was a jerk, though, and I had
never fantasized about him doing anything to Jill.  I didn't want to think
about it now either.

   "I'm not that much bigger." I said.  I had always been a little worried
about being some kind of freak.  It's not something you can ask the school
counselor about, or your Mom.  I'd seen Dad nude before, and If I had to
show him mine it would make him feel bad.  I don't know whose genes I got,
but it wasn't his.

   For answer she reached out and put her hand around my dick.  It was
leaning over again, kind of pointing up at my face like it always did when
it was nice and hard, and she stood it up.  All I could see was the back of
her hand because she grabbed it with her right hand.  It felt wonderful.

   "Oh my gosh!" she said.

   "What?"

   That word, on paper, just doesn't communicate the anguish I felt.  She
sounded worried, like she'd just found a half a worm in an apple she'd
taken a bite out of.

   "LOOK!" she said, still holding on.  I lifted my head, straining my
neck.

   "What?" I asked again, this time not quite so anxiously.  "I can't see
anything."

   Then she changed hands.  Her first finger and her thumb were an inch
apart, and she was squeezing my cock hard.

   "It's a fucking monster." she breathed.

   I reached down and gripped it underneath where her hand was.  My
forefinger and thumb touched.  I was really worried now that she was going
to call the whole second half off, and I was trying like crazy to convince
her I was normal.

   "See?  You're hand's just small.  There's nothing wrong with it." I
complained.

   "You dork!" she said, without heat.  "You can hold a basketball with one
hand on top of it.  LOOK, your hand AND my hand don't cover the whole
thing."

   She was referring to the fact that her hand covered some of it, and my
hand covered some of it, but there was a little at the bottom and a couple
of inches at the top that were still visible.

   "Oh." I said.  She always knew how to take the wind out of my sails,
even when she wasn't trying."

   "I can't help it." I said, for lack of anything else to say.  I was so
upset that I started to get soft.  "What's the big deal anyway?" I whined.

   "What's the big deal?" she asked, looking at my face.  "That's supposed
to go inside a girl.  THAT's the big deal.  That thing would kill a girl.
It would massacre a girl.  It would tear her in HALF!"

   "OK, OK, I get the idea." I moaned.  "So what you're saying is I'll
never have sex."

   "No WAY, Ho-sea" she rhymed again.  "Why is it getting soft?"

   She was a girl.  She had that talent of changing the subject in less
time than it takes a guy to keep up.

   "You call it a freak of nature and you're surprised it gets unhappy?"

   "I don't want it to get unhappy.  Make it get hard again." she ordered.

   "I can't just make it get hard." I said in disbelief.

   "I bet I can." she said.

   She started stroking it and playing with it.  It was about the
consistency of a hot dog that's half cooked, you know where you can bend it
a lot and it won't break, but it's still kind of firm?

   She was right.  She'd been bending over all this time, and her arm
covered her breasts.  But now she was using her left hand and I could see
them again.  I mean a naked girl was jacking me off.  What guy could resist
that, even if she DID call him a freak?

   Well, she got it hard again and when it was standing tall she stopped.
She looked at me and kind of frowned.

   "I've only done this once, so I'm probably not very good at it, but if
you make fun of me I'll never do it again ...  ever."

   She didn't wait for me to say I understood.  Instead she bent down again
and put her mouth over the head of my prick.

   Ohhh Mother McGillicuty, did that feel good.  My heart started thudding
in my chest again, and I couldn't catch my breath, and the muscles in my
back kind of twanged and my hips came up off the bed.

   She choked on it about then, and when she pulled off coughing I thought
she'd kill me.  But all she did was say "Stay still." and went right back
to sucking my knob.

   I don't really have the words to describe it.  I had jerked off plenty,
and that felt good.  And she had rubbed along it with her pussy and THAT
felt even better.  But this ...  this was the stuff dreams are made of. 
Her mouth was hot, and slick and I could feel her teeth and her tongue and
her cheeks all at the same time.

   "Stop!" I ordered weakly, pushing at her head.

   She pulled off.  "What?  Am I doing it wrong?" She was frowning.

   "No" I gasped.  "You're doing it perfectly.  But I don't want you mad at
me and in a second you're going to be pissed as hell."

   "Already?" she beamed.  "You're gonna shoot already?" It was like
someone had told her she'd just won American Idol or something.

   She looked at me critically.

   "I've never tasted it before." she said, like it was some foreign food
she'd just heard of and been offered.  "Mandy Phillips says it tastes
nasty."

   "That's why I told you to stop." I said, my breathing a little more
normal.

   "Mandy Phillips is an idiot." she said.  "She doesn't even like Peanut
Butter, banana and Mayonnaise sandwiches."

   Neither did anybody else who was normal, which my sister obviously
wasn't, since that was her favorite ...  food.  Her head dipped toward my
prick, which she was still holding like it was a stick shift and she was in
a race for pink slips.  She was stroking the gear shift and shifting from
first to third and then back to first and then second, if you know what I
mean.

   She was quiet for a few seconds and I could almost hear the gears in her
head whirling.

   "I don't' know what to do." she said, to herself I think.  Then she
looked up at me and proved I was wrong by continuing to talk to me.  "I
want to rub on it, like before.  But I want to see how far it shoots too.
And I think I want to taste it ...  you know?"

   I was flabbergasted.  All three sounded wonderful to me, and I was close
to making her second choice come true just then.  "I ...  uh ...  well ...
I'm gonna ...  Uhhhh ...  Auuuggghhhhh."

   Her hand had solved the problem for us.  My hips went up and I bit my
cheek and spunk shot up in the air two and a half feet.  It kind of hung
there for a split second and then the line leaned and started back down. 
She was like a cobra or something.  I saw her eyes go wide as she lifted
them, and then lowered them again, watching the stream of semen she had
just produced, like an artesian well.  About the time that line splatted
onto my chest her head dove and her mouth opened and she caught number two,
or maybe it was number three by then, I don't really know, but she caught
it in her mouth as she sealed her lips over the crown.  I know she got
another shot in her mouth, and about then she popped back up, like a jack
in the box.

   She let go of my dick, which lay down on my stomach and fired another
round toward my chin.  Her hands were up by her shoulders and she was kind
of fanning her face, sort of, jumping around and making these strange
noises with her mouth closed and her eyes bulging, and it was obvious that
she wished she hadn't done what she'd just done.  Her head swiveled both
ways, and it was clear that she was looking for a place to spit.  I half
expected her to spew all over me.

   But she suddenly stopped, frozen like - her hands too, just hanging
there in the air.  She dragged in a noisy breath through her nose and then
opened her mouth.

   I'd like to say it looked cool.  Her mouth was brimming with thick white
strings of stuff that stretched from bottom to top and looked a little like
spider webs.  About then I expected her not just to spew, but to hurl, and
the thought of puke all over the place made me tense and half sit up.

   But she closed her mouth and dropped her hands and, in the kind of
silence where you really CAN hear a pin drop ...  I heard her swallow.  She
looked kind of startled, and then she swallowed again and this time, when
her lips parted there was nothing there.

   "That wasn't so bad." she said, wiping her lips with the back of her
hand.  She still looked surprised.  "In fact, that wasn't bad at all."

   She looked at me, standing there gorgeous and naked, with her hands
hanging straight down.

   "It was warm." she commented.  "And it tastes ...  I don't know how to
describe it, but it's not bad.  "It's all slippery and it feels funny on my
teeth." she added.

   Well, to say I was relieved is the understatement of the year.  I had a
fleeting thought that maybe Peanut Butter, banana and mayo sandwiches had
ruined her taste buds or something, because there was no WAY any of that
stuff was ever going to get in MY mouth.

   She proved me wrong by unfreezing and leaning over to kiss me again.  I
think I had the same initial reaction she did.  My stomach heaved once, but
I hadn't actually tasted anything yet.  But it wasn't so bad.  I mean it
wasn't sloshing around in my mouth or anything ...  it was just a hint of
musky something on her lips, but she was right.  It wasn't so bad.  I think
I was more surprised than she was.

   "Thank y..." she started to say, but just then we heard the unmistakable
sound of somebody - Dad probably - getting up to go to the bathroom.  He
hadn't checked on us since we were little, but we were terrified anyway. 
Jill jumped back against the wall and cowered there while I tore at the
sheet to get it over me, just in case.

   He didn't check on me, of course.  But the mood was broken and I had
shot my wad all over the place anyway, and as soon as it was quiet again
she slipped out without saying another word.

   ===================================

   The next morning she was surly at breakfast.  It was something we had
all seen before, of course.  When you have a teenaged girl in the house
there are moods floating around, hovering in corners, just waiting to swoop
down and drown you in drama.  Some of them are good moods, but most aren't.
This one wasn't.

   "What's wrong with you?" asked our mother.

   "Nothing." Jill said shortly.

   I was relieved that she didn't look at me.

   "You stayed up too late again, didn't you?" suggested Mom.  "I've told
you growing bodies need lots of rest."

   Jill held up her hand, palm out, but didn't say anything.  My mother
looked hurt, but subsided.

   Dad, of course, being a man, didn't know when to let things rest.

   "Well, I know what will get it out of you, whatever it is.  The garage
needs cleaning out.  You and Bobby can do that together." His voice had
that "This isn't a suggestion" tone in it.  He didn't put up with crap,
which was one reason there were so many abandoned moods lurking in corners,
waiting to ambush the unaware passerby.

   "Fine!" snarled Jill, which was a little unusual.  I mean usually she
argues.

   It had to be me she was pissed off at.  I mean I was the one who shot
her mouth full of spooge the night before, right?  She probably had the
mother of all stomach aches or something.  I mean it can't possibly be
healthy to swallow what comes out of a man's dick, right?

   So I was prepared to face her wrath when, an hour later, I went to the
garage.  I figured she'd lollygag around and delay the inevitable, and
thought that maybe I might even be able to get the garage cleaned out
before she even showed up.  Not that I planned to complain about her not
being there or anything.  But the "run away" plan sometimes works
exceedingly well.

   Imagine MY surprise to find her already there, moving boxes around.  She
looked up at me with this really funny look on her face.

   "You OK?" I asked.  Don't ask me why I opened my mouth.

   "No." she said shortly, but with no real heat.

   "Oh." I said.  "I'm sorry." That's part of the "run away" plan.  Say
you're sorry and it might defuse the bomb.  Sometimes it doesn't work, but
you sort of have to try.

   She stood up and walked over to me, looking over my shoulder at the door
that went from the garage to the kitchen.  Then she pulled me around a
shelving unit so we couldn't see that door any more.

   "I'm horny." she said.  "I didn't get off last night and I couldn't
sleep and I tried to do it myself, but it didn't work and I want you to fix
it." Her hands were gripping my T shirt and I knew that when she let go
there would be wrinkles in the shape of her hands in the fabric where she
was stretching it.

   "Now?" I asked incredulously.

   "Now!" she commanded.  She let go of my shirt and put her arms around me
and kissed me hard to punctuate her command.

   What do you do in a situation like that?  Dad was gone to work, but Mom
was in the house.  It wasn't likely she'd come out to the garage.  She
avoided that as much as possible, saying that she couldn't walk through the
place and stay clean.  She kept her car outside in the driveway, in fact.
Part of that was because one bay of the garage was full of Dad's project
car, a 1967 Pontiac GTO he was "rebuilding".  but he'd have let her park
her car in the other side if she'd have wanted to.  She didn't, so he put
his car in there.  Mom really had no reason to come out there.

   But, when your sister is hanging all over you in the garage, you expect
anything could happen and I was nervous.

   "Here?" I managed to say when she pulled her lips off mine.

   "Right now Bobby.  I need you." she gasped.

   She was really worked up and, in other circumstances, I might have felt
pretty proud of myself.  What I felt was nervous.

   "How?" I asked.

   It wasn't all that stupid a question, at least in my opinion, and, truth
be told, it was all I could think of to say.

   For answer she looked around and her eyes lit on Dad's GTO.  She grabbed
my hand and pulled me around to the passenger side and opened the door. 
Dad had worked on the interior first, I guess because that was what he knew
how to do best.  It had rolled and pleated naugahyde seat covers in it that
were dark blue with white piping.  Before my startled eyes, Jill skinned
her terrycloth shorts down and stepped out of one leg.

   She wasn't wearing panties.

   She sat her naked butt down on Dad's prize seat covers and spread her
legs, exposing her pussy to me like she'd done it a thousand times.  "Rub
me." she moaned.

   Not knowing what else to do I reached my hand toward her.  She batted it
away.

   "With your dick." she ordered.

   I looked up, over the roof of the car.  The door to the kitchen was
right there, fifteen feet away.

   I felt her hands at my zipper and looked down to see her undoing my belt
with one hand and trying to pull my zipper down with the other.  It would
have been funny except that I was terrified.

   I learned something that day.  I learned that terror doesn't necessarily
mean your dick won't get hard.  I thought there was no way in the world
that anything could happen, because I kept looking at that door.  But once
she got my jeans don around my hips, which wasn't easy because I wasn't
helping, and once she latched onto my prick with both hands, pulling and
stretching, nature took over.  It turned out nature wasn't terrified.

   "Come ON, Bobby!" she hissed, pulling my prod toward her pussy.

   Well, when a girl has your dick firmly in hand, so to speak, and pulls
hard enough, you sort of have to let her do with it what she wants to.  You
could call it self defense of a sort.  She leaned back and I bent over and
leaned forward.  I put one hand on the seat back, and the other on the seat
beside her, and let her pull the head of my dick to her pussy mouth.

   It was just natural, when I felt the tip of my cock dip into that soft,
slick skin, that I pushed a little.'

   "Don't put it IN me." she hissed.

   One of her wrists went around my neck and she held her upper body up off
the seat, which strained my back something terrible until I took all the
weight on my arms.  Then she commenced to use my prick like it was a dildo
or something.  She rubbed it up and down between her pussy lips, and then
used the tip to diddle her clit.  I could see her nipples through the tank
top she was wearing.  I had thought about those nipples a lot, over the
years, and I decided now was the time to try what I'd wanted to do for a
long time.  I took the hand off the seat and pulled her tank top up,
uncovering one breast.  Then I leaned down and sucked the hard nipple into
my mouth.

   Bad idea.

   The reason it was a bad idea, as it turned out, was because when I
sucked in that nipple she kind of spazzed out, let go of my neck and lay
back on the seat.  And it was a bad idea because I really liked sucking
that nipple, and didn't want to stop, so I leaned forward when she went
down.  And it was a bad idea because she couldn't reach my dick any more
and had to let go, at just the time she had plugged the tip of my dick
squarely into her pussy mouth.  I guess the bottom line was that it was a
bad idea because, as I leaned forward, my dick did too.

   An inch doesn't' seem like it's all that much, you know?  I mean it's
just a tiny little bit.  And that's all that went in her was an inch. 
Well, maybe a little more than that, since the whole head popped in there,
but it was only a little bit ...  you know?

   She gave this strangled little yelp.  She told me later that what my
mouth was doing to her nipple felt so fabulous that she was just sure she
was going to cum, and then there was this terrible stretching-pain-tearing
sensation as her hymen, which had been firmly and valiently guarding her
virginity, sort of ceased to be.

   For me, it was a little like when it had been in her mouth, except that
for the split second I felt it I was also completely aware of what had
happened, and didn't take the time to enjoy it.  I pushed off the seat,
whacked my head on the edge of the door opening, and heard a distinct "Pop"
as my dick was jerked out of her pussy.

   She actually took it rather well, when you think about it.  She was
caught in the middle of an agonized squeal when the pain disappeared.  I'm
sure there was some kind of aftermath, but, compared to what she'd BEEN
feeling down there, it was nothing.

   Suffice it to say she wasn't horny any more.  She looked at me with this
kind of hurt puppy look in her eyes, which were wet, but what was making
them wet had stopped, so she didn't actually cry.  She sat up and pushed at
me, making me step backward, and then bent over and pulled her shorts back
on and up as she stood up.  Then she pulled her shirt back down as I
fumbled with my own pants.

   "Sorry." I tried.

   She opened her mouth to say something - I don't know what - and damned
if Mom didn't open that door and come into the garage with a tray and two
glasses filled with ice cubes and a pitcher of lemonade.

   "I thought you two might like some refreshments." she announced, looking
around for us.  When her eyes finally found us we were standing in the open
door of the Pontiac.

   "Don't play around in that car." she said sternly.  "You know your
father thinks the world of that stupid thing."

   "We were just looking." said Jill, sounding completely normal.  I was
about as astonished as it was possible to be because I knew I couldn't have
said a single word if it would have saved my life.  "When do you think
he'll start on the outside?" asked Jill.

   "Who knows." groused our mother.  "It took him five years to get the
inside done.  Now, where do you want me to put this?" she asked.

   Jill started moving, and closed the door of the car, leaving me standing
there like a bump on a log.  She cleared some space on the work bench and
took the tray, thanking Mom like nothing had happened at all.  Mom,
oblivious, nattered on for a little bit, and then looked around and shook
her head.

   "Just get rid of what you know is trash." she said.  "Don't throw
anything away that might be useful." Then she laughed.  "Or throw it all
out.  As far as I can tell, NONE of it is useful."

   Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.

   Jill poured a glass of lemonade and took a drink.  She set it down and
then looked at me.

   "This isn't over yet, buster." she said.

   "I said I was sorry." I whined.

   "Shut up.  We have work to do." she said.  She looked down at herself.
"But first, go to my room and get me another pair of shorts.  They're in
the bottom right hand drawer.  And don't let Mom see you."

   I must have looked confused, because she turned around.  The front of
her powder blue shorts, right where I knew they pressed up against naked
pussy lips, had a small reddish stain on them.  She was bleeding.

   How she noticed that, and acted completely normal with our mother
standing there chatting, and KEPT our mother from noticing it ...  well,
I'll just never understand that.

   Anyway, terror reigned for ten minutes as, on autopilot, I went to her
room, got another pair of shorts and then went back to the garage with them
inside a box I found in my own room.  I went to inordinate lengths to avoid
Mom.  As I sneaked through the kitchen I noticed movement through the
window.  Mom was outside hanging up towels to dry in the sun.  She claimed
they smelled better and soaked up water better if you did that.  I had
snuck around for nothing.

   Not that I felt any better when I got back to the garage.  Jill was
picking up things and putting them in a box she had designated as trash.

   "Are you OK?" I gasped, weirded out by seeing her doing something so
normal.

   "Please don't tell me you called 911." she said, looking at me with a
frown.

   "You're BLEEDING!" I rasped.

   "It's already stopped." she said, like it was a paper cut or something.
"It's normal for a woman to bleed the first time." Her sanguine attitude
just destroyed me, I'm telling you.

   I was still holding the box, which had some magazines in it on top of
her new shorts.  She was smart enough to figure that out and pulled out the
shorts.  Then, like it was nothing, she skinned out of the old ones,
standing bottomless in front of me, and stepped into the new ones and
pulled them up.  It was such a normal thing to do, after what had happened
...  except it wasn't normal at ALL to do it in front of your brother ...
except that, considering what had happened in the Pontiac, which was even
MORE not normal ...

   I just stood there holding the box.

   Jill, on the other hand, was thinking.  She picked up her old shorts and
went back to the GTO and opened the door and wiped on the seat covers with
the shorts.  Then she went to the trash can that we use for regular
garbage, opened it up, took out the top bag and pulled out the one that had
been under it.  She untied it, and stuffed the old shorts down inside of it
before re-tying the bag closed.  It went back in the bottom of the can,
with the other one on top of it.  Once everything looked normal, with the
possible exception that she wasn't wearing the same clothes she went into
the garage in, she looked at me.  With a completely straight face she said:

   "Are you going to stand there all day, or help me clean the garage?"

   CHAPTER THREE

   I'd like to say things were strained for the next three hours ... 
between Jill and me, as we cleaned the garage.  I had popped my sister's
cherry good and proper, which was something I was SURE she'd be all pissed
off about.  I didn't think she'd see the irony in the fact that if I hadn't
popped her cherry, we'd have gotten caught by Mom.  AND, when you consider
that she was so hot and bothered to get her goodies ...  and then didn't
... well, I think I was justified in assuming that terrible things would
happen to me.

   But all she did was talk.

   She started off talking about the stuff we were moving around.

   "What's this?" she'd ask.

   Usually I knew what it was.  Dad had a lot of woodworking stuff, and
auto mechanic stuff.  He had all these hobbies that he got into and then
let lay, and each of them left some group of stuff behind.  Like there was
this one thing that was a plastic box that had a little spindle sticking up
out of it.  There was a rim around the top about half an inch high, and it
had an electric cord on it.

   "What the heck is this?" asked Jill.

   "That's for stained glass." I said.  I was still nervous and might have
babbled a little bit.  "It's got a diamond head on it - that little round
thing there - and it spins and you can grind the edges of the glass to
whatever shape you want.  You have to put water in it, as a lubricant for
the glass." I'd seen Dad using it one time, while he was making a Tiffany
lamp shade.

   "How the heck do you know all this stuff?" she asked me, holding the
thing like it might bite her.

   "I dunno." I responded.  "I saw him use it once."

   "You're not nearly as stupid as I thought you were." said my sister
conversationally.  "Where should we put it?"

   I ignored the barb, mostly because I wasn't looking for trouble of ANY
sort just then.

   "His stained glass stuff is over in that cabinet, mostly." I said,
pointing.

   She went over there and opened it up and started going through all sorts
of stuff in there, saying "What's this?" about every thirty seconds.  Some
of it was easy.  Some I just read the labels on and figured out.  Some of
it I didn't know, and I made something up.  I mean she wouldn't know the
difference, right?  I REALLY wasn't looking for trouble and wanted her to
stay in this remarkably good mood she was in.

   Then we hit a bunch of his reloading stuff, and I explained that to her
too.  I had a sudden image of her wanting me to show her how to load up
some bullets ...  and then wanting me to show her how to load them in the
gun ...  and then ...  revenge!

   I suddenly realized she had changed the subject and was talking about a
sale that was going to be on the next weekend at J.C.  Penney's and how she
was thinking about getting a new swimsuit.

   "My old one's too small." she said.  "I'm thinking about getting a
bikini.  Do you think I'd look OK in a bikini?"

   I didn't say anything for a few seconds as I tried to figure out how we
got from reloading to bikinis, and whether it was going from dangerous to
more dangerous or not.  I didn't say anything for too long and she looked
at me.

   "Uh ...  sure." I said.  I wasn't doing my best here.

   "Did you do it on purpose?" she asked out of the blue.

   I had a pretty good idea what "it" she was talking about.

   "NO!" I gasped.  "I swear Jill, it was an accident."

   "It hurt." she said shortly.  She was still looking at me.  "A lot." she
added, like I might not understand.  Her bloody shorts had pretty well
convinced me that it had hurt.

   "I'm really sorry." I said, meaning it.

   "I know." she said, turning back around and neatening up all the
reloading stuff, putting it all in one place.

   "You do?" I asked.  I was confused.

   "Yeah, I could see it on your face." she said, not looking at me.  I did
what every red blooded male of the species should never EVER do, but
inevitably does anyway.

   "Are you mad at me?" I asked.

   "I don't know." she said, saying what every red blooded girl of the
species says sometimes when a man is SURE she really DOES know.  And then
she talked about other stuff.  She started asking me if I remembered things
that had happened in our past.  Some of them were big fights we had, and
she talked about how she'd felt during them, and how mad she was at me, and
twice how she'd lied (which I knew) to get me in trouble.

   You might be wondering what this has to do with anything, but I'm trying
to explain how she was acting, because ...  well I didn't understand it ...
and maybe you will.  Or something.

   And the other reason I'm telling you all this is because it explains why
I was completely flummoxed when, about half an hour after our folks went to
bed that night, while I was reading, she came into my room again.

   Not only did she come into my room again, she came into my room and
whipped off her night shirt and stalked over to the bed naked.

   "I'm still horny." she announced in a voice that wasn't a whisper and
wasn't a normal voice.  "You're going to lie there like a good boy and not
move." she said.  "And if you move I'm going to cut your balls off." She
looked grim.  "Or something." she added.

   She whipped the sheet off of me, exposing my PJs, and then started
trying to drag them down.

   I didn't move.

   "Lift your hips." she said, looking at me like I was simple minded.

   I decided that I could move if I had permission, so I lifted my hips.  I
was still holding my book.

   Then she put that wonderful mouth of hers on my prick again and had me
rock hard inside of a minute.  All I could hear was slurping and
swallowing, which sounded pretty loud to me.  I have to admit that I darted
my eyes toward the door a couple of times when she was extra loud.  But I
didn't turn my head.  No Sir, that would have been moving.

   She stopped sucking me and almost tenderly laid my cock down on my
stomach.  Or tried to.  It was so hard it stayed about three inches up in
the air, kind of bobbing a little, like it was nodding it's head.  I stared
at the slit in the tip, half expecting it to become a pair of lips and say
"Dont' stop!  I was having a good time.  Come back!"

   Then she climbed up on the bed and, looking down at my cock, she very
gently let her pussy down on top of it, reaching with one hand to spread
her pussy lips, one on either side of it.  She settled down, putting her
hands on my chest and gave out a sigh that sounded just like Elvis Presley
made in an old movie he made where he got shot at the top of the hill and
rolled all the way down it somehow, singing three songs along the way,
until when he finally got to the bottom he expired.  That was when he gave
out the sigh.  He must have practiced that sigh for hours, because it had
all the elements of a tortured soul, finally finding relief, and letting go
of this life to embrace the next one and all that stuff.  I mean it was a
SIGH!

   I didn't think Jill had practiced it, though, and coming from her lips
it sure made me feel good.

   She started sliding, and I laid still.  I didn't have to do anything for
it to feel wonderful.  She hadn't put her hair up, and it was hanging down,
kind of tickling her breasts or something.  She leaned forward and dropped
a nipple on my nose.

   "Suck them." she commanded.  That's not fair, really, because her voice
didn't have command in it.  It was soft and, while not pleading, sounded
like something other than an errant thought.

   Having permission, I played with her nipples, kind of sucking and then
spitting them out and licking them and I even bit one gently when it was
moving so much I could barely get it in my mouth.

   I was rewarded with "Ohhhh Bobby, this feels soooo nice."

   Pretty good praise for a guy who was just lying there doing almost
nothing, huh?

   She started playing too, sliding all the way up to the head and grinding
her pussy down onto it when it slipped up into her pussy mouth.  She was
riding her clitty on it, and she suddenly shuddered and went stiff.  The
noise she made was barely audible, and was a series of little "Huh ..  huh
..  huh" sounds as her hips started moving again, making little jerking
motions.  Then there was a long "Uhhhhhhhhh" as her hips kind of rotated in
circles as she leaned forward and all of a sudden she lay down on my chest.
Her hair got in my face and tickled so much I wanted to sneeze.  I wanted
to put my arms around her, but didn't, so determined was I to make sure she
had everything she wanted, and nothing she didn't.

   She bit my ear lobe!  It hurt too!

   Then she sat back up and started sliding again and whispering.

   "That's what I needed this morning." she said, rocking.  "But you shoved
that horrible thing up in me."

   "I didn't SHOVE it ..." I started to protest.  "...exactly." I finished.

   "You broke my cherry." she said, sliding some more.  "You snatched my
treasure from me like some horrible pirate." she added in a melodramatic
rasp.

   "I didn't want to hurt you." I said.

   "I know." she sighed, sliding all the way forward and getting the knob
well up in her pussy mouth.  "It doesn't hurt so much now." she said,
rubbing in circles again.

   "Did it really hurt that bad?" I asked.  "Can I touch your breasts?" I
was tired of being still.

   "Yes." she said, and I was left to wonder which question she was
answering.

   I gave myself the benefit of the doubt and put my hands on her breasts.
They were amazing.  I played with them, squeezing them and thumbing the
nipples.  They felt hard and rubbery and I pulled her down to suck them
again, this time holding her sides so she couldn't move quite so much and I
could get a good lip lock on them.

   "Mmmmm that feels soooo goood." she purred, still rubbing.

   It was quiet for a while as she rubbed.  I was pretty content.  I wasn't
as excited as I'd been before, and didn't have the urge to cum.  Well,
that's not exactly true.  It was like I wanted to squirt a gallon, but it
was OK if I didn't.  I knew that three or four strokes after she left would
have me sobbing with joy, and that was OK.  I really felt bad about hurting
her and stealing her treasure.

   "You know it did go in." she panted a little.  "In the garage I mean."

   What a strange thing to say.  Of course it went in.  It made her bleed!
It was what ruined the whole event.

   "It didn't kill me." she said, rubbing faster.

   "I'm glad" I said, wondering what was going on.

   "Maybe it wouldn't kill me if you put it in again." she huffed.

   I got another brick in the head with that one.  She was suggesting that
I actually fuck her!

   "No." I said, not ever wanting to see that look on her face again ... 
the one that screamed she was in pain.  "It hurt, and you know it hurt. 
Why would you want to do that again?" I asked.

   "Yes, it did hurt." she said.  I could tell she was getting close to
falling over the edge again, both by her voice and her movements.  We had
only done this twice, but I could already read her body movements.  It was
kind of cool.  "But there was something else too." she gasped.

   "What?" I asked.

   "I can't describe it." she said.  "It was a surprise ..." she started
jerking harder.  "I didn't have time to really figure it out ..." She slid
forward again and got my knob up against her clitty.  She started giving
those little jerks again, this time without freezing first.  "Ohhhh
Bobbbyyyyyy" she moaned.  "I love you so much."

   Seeing her having an orgasm was just the coolest thing I think I'd ever
seen.  I wasn't scared this time, or confused ...  well not too much ... 
this "fuck me" thing had me pretty weirded out ...  but anyway she just
looked like she was having a heck of a good time and at least part of it
was my doing.  And right then I realized that I loved her too.  It wasn't
just that she was doing this with me.  It was that she was having fun and
was happy, and I was part of it and that was a close kind of feeling that
was more than just sex.

   And she meant it too.  I could tell.  She had her eyes closed when she
said it.

   And all of a sudden I felt the overpowering urge to cum myself.  I
didn't even have time to say anything.  I just started spurting.  I felt
pressure, like something was closing off my prick and realized that the
hole my jizz was trying to come out of was pressed against her pussy or
something and it couldn't get out very well.  She moved a little and there
was a flood of relief as pent up semen burst out of my prick, bathing her
pussy in hot spunk.

   "Oooo" she squeaked, and ground harder.  I wasn't fucking her, but the
head of my prick was filling up her pussy mouth and as she wiggled at least
some of that spunk got shot up inside her.  It wasn't fucking, but it was
the next best thing and I came hard.

   It took a few slippery minutes, but she finally calmed down.

   "You made a mess." she chided.  Then she scooted down and began sucking
and lapping with her tongue, licking it all up and sucking it off my prick,
which was, indeed, all messy with my ejaculate.  She was making "Mmmmmm"
sounds and it made me want to cum again, but I couldn't.

   You know how when you've had a really good meal sometimes you just want
to sit there for a while when you're done?  It was a little like that.  And
then, like after that meal, sooner or later you have to get up and go
somewhere, or go do something.  She was like that.  She played with my
prick for a while, licking it and kissing it and doing everything but
talking to it, and then she bounded off the bed and picked up her night
shirt.

   "That was much better." she whispered, beaming at me.

   She was almost out of the door when I whispered loudly "Jill."

   She turned, still naked.  I thought about reminding her to put on the
shirt.

   Instead I said.  "I love you too."

   ====================================

   The next day was completely different than the one before.  Jill was all
happy and easy going when she got up and we had breakfast.  Mom insisted
that we at least eat breakfast as a family.  It was a hard and fast rule.

   "Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling better." said our mother.

   "I got more sleep last night." lied Jill convincingly.

   "I told you so dear." said Mom.

   "I know, Mom.  Don't RUB it in." said my sister.  She darted her eyes
towards me and I saw a flicker of a smile on her face as she teased me and
dealt with mom at the same time.  I swear she could beat a lie detector.

   Jill spent the day over at Julie Zickafuss's house and they did each
other's nails and braided each other's hair and stuff like that.  I found
that out when she got back home and announced that she had a date that
night with John Watkins.

   I was a little jealous.  I had spent the day trimming bushes and mowing
the lawn and reading.  That gave me lots of time to think about what we'd
done ...  which was outrageously cool, and what Jill had said, which was
eating away at me.  Being a guy, part of me panted at the thought of
shoving my cock in her.  But I didn't want to go any further for more
reasons than just hurting her.  I didn't think she was on any birth
control, and there was already a lot of my sperm cells wiggling around
inside her.  I could tell the difference between my prick shooting a rope
on my stomach or in my pubic hair, and feeling one of those ropes shoot
through my prick and NOT feeling it anywhere on my body.  And while I loved
this game we were playing ...  this different kind of One on One ...  I
sure didn't think anybody would see the humor in me knocking up my own
sister.

   So I sort of talked myself into believing that her going out with John,
or anybody else, was probably a better idea than her NOT going out.  Maybe
it would give her an outlet and cool her down a little bit.  I knew John
fairly well, enough to know that he bragged about hitting on every girl he
took out.  I wasn't worried about Jill or anything.  I was pretty sure she
could take care of herself after hearing about what she'd done to do just
that.  But maybe she'd get off and be satisfied.

   As some sisters are known to say ...  No Way Ho-sea.

   She got back on time - she had a ten O'clock curfew - and was all bouncy
and happy.  Dad had waited up for her and he and I were watching the news
when she came in.  As soon as he saw she was whole and dressed properly, he
gave her a cursory kiss on the cheek and went off to bed.

   She waited until he was up the stairs and said "Wait up for me ...  I
won't be long."

   Inside twenty minutes she was in my room, naked, and on top of me,
rubbing again.

   "Mmmm I just can't believe how good this feels." she said.  That seemed
to be her basic description of what we did.

   "I thought maybe you'd let John take care of things tonight." I said. 
She stopped.  Her hair was loose again and she swept it back with one hand,
sitting on top of my schlong.

   "I'm not a slut Bobby.  I told you I don't do things with boys."

   This she said while sitting naked on a boy, her brother though that boy
might be, and rubbing her pussy on that boy's erect penis.

   "Oh." was all I managed to say.

   "You're different." she said, like that made all the sense in the world.
"I love you.  You're good to me.  You'd never do anything to hurt me." She
started rocking again.  "I could never do this with somebody who didn't
love me, or who I didn't love."

   Well, now, there's an endorsement for you.

   "What if you get pregnant?" I asked, my concerns from earlier rising to
the surface.

   "How sweet." she cooed.  "I'm not going to get pregnant with you Bobby."
she said firmly.

   "How do you know?" I prodded ...  verbally ...  "I think I got some in
you last night."

   "I know you did." she said beginning to rub harder.  "It felt wonderful
...  all warm and gooey."

   "That's what I mean." I said.  Her unconcern was somehow very erotic and
my balls were rumbling.  "How do you know you won't get pregnant?"

   "Because I know." she said in that voice that women have that suggests
the conversation is over.  She confirmed it by going on.  "Now shut up and
make me feel good.  John made me horny."

   For some reason I wanted to know the details.  Maybe it's a guy thing,
but visualizing my sister with guys had been a real turn on in the past, so
I asked her tell me why John made her horny.

   She said they kissed, and then kissed me, shoving her tongue into my
mouth for the first time.

   "Like that." she panted.

   Then she told me that she let him play with her titties - her word, not
mine - and he sucked on them.  She demanded I suck them too.

   "He's not as good at it as you are." she breathed, getting the knob of
my prick where she seemed to like it the most ...  almost inside her.

   "Did you touch him?" I gasped, between sucking nipples.

   "Yeah ...  he only lasted maybe a minute." she gasped back.

   We took time out to have orgasms.  She started first, pressing and
digging the tip of my cock into her opening and jerking in that way that I
knew meant she was going off.  Thinking of John spurting helped me spurt.
She lay down on my chest when she felt the first spurt.  I didn't feel very
much at all go into my pubes ...  or anywhere on my body for that matter. I
came pretty hard too.

   "Mmmmm so warm" she whispered in my ear.

   We both lay there, her splayed out on top of me, as we caught our
breath. She pushed herself back up and then stood, her legs spread,
squatting over my cock, which was going soft.  She reached down and pushed
a finger inside her pussy and then pulled it out and spread her pussy lips.
A HUGE glob of thick white stuff started dripping out of her open pussy and
it fell on my cock.  She stayed there for two more globs to drip out and
then scooted down and had her desert, sucking it all up and swallowing and
making little mewling noises of happiness.

   Other than the fact that it was clearly obvious I'd spurted up inside
her, and that she could, at this very moment, be gloriously ...  er ... 
disastrously pregnant by her own brother ...  it didn't seem like life
could get any better.

   =======================================

   Maybe she did think about the pregnancy angle.  Or, perhaps I was a new
toy she'd played with as much as she could and finally gotten tired of. 
For whatever reason, she didn't come to my room for almost a whole week. 
It never occurred to me that I could go to HER room.  So far she had
initiated everything, and all I had done was be a fountain of sperm.  Well,
except for that cherry busting thing.  But that was an accident, so it
doesn't count, right?

   She didn't say anything to me about it either.  I mean it would have
been nice if she'd have said something.  Maybe "I thought it over Bobby and
this is insane." I would have understood that.  Or "It was fun, but you're
my brother and sisters just don't do that stuff with their brothers." I
could have seen where she'd think that.  Or even "I don't love you any more
and I'm going to let total strangers do all that stuff from now on." I
wouldn't have liked that, but at least I'd have understood it was over. 
But she didn't say any of those things.  She didn't say anything at all. 
The only reason I knew she still at least tolerated me was that every so
often, when nobody else was around, she'd let her fingers drift over my
crotch, outlining my schlong.  Twice she put a lip lock on me that would
melt aluminum.  Both times I ran my tongue around inside my mouth when we
were done, to make sure it was still there.

   But she didn't come to my room.

   Then, a week later, she went on another date.  This one was with Randy
Zimmerman, who was a whiz in science and sort of a geek.  Dad even asked
her about that.

   "Isn't that guy who tutored you during school last year?" he asked at
supper.

   "Uh huh." said Jill, talking and eating at the same time.  "This is sort
of a reward for him helping me pass."

   "You have a mighty high opinion of yourself." said Dad.

   "What?" It wasn't often that Jill was caught unawares.

   "I just think that making yourself available for a date as a reward is
kind of egotistical, don't you think?" Dad knew lots of big words.  We knew
better than to ask what they meant.  We got sent for the dictionary every
time and the next day there would be a pop quiz on how to spell the new
word.

   "It's not like that at all." said Jill, sounding hurt.  "He's shy, and
doesn't date or anything.  So it's not ME that's the reward.  It's helping
him learn how to act on a date that's the reward.  Kind of reverse
tutoring. I'm tutoring him on social behavior." She smiled.  She looked up
more words than I did and her vocabulary was pretty impressive.

   "Humph." snorted Dad.  "You just make sure you don't reward him TOO
much."

   "DADDY!" gasped Jill.  A year ago I'd have believed she was actually
horrified.  "I'm not that kind of girl!" she went on, overacting a little.
"I'm a GOOD girl." she finished primly.

   "You know what we called a good girl when I was in High School?" asked
our father.

   "Charles ..." warned our mother.  She had a sixth sense when her husband
was going to cross over some line she knew about.  Or she'd heard this one
before.

   He ignored her.  "A good girl was always in bed by nine." he stated
firmly.  Then he kind of grinned and glanced sideways at Mom.  "And home by
midnight."

   Well that pretty well broke up dinner.  Mom got disgusted and Jill's
giggle box got spilled so that she couldn't stop.  Then Mom started
giggling too while Dad ate calmly, acting like nothing at all had happened.
Things quieted down finally and Dad got them going again by saying "I
married a good girl."

   Mom screeched and Dad looked at his watch and said "It's almost eight
thirty, we'd better hurry darling."

   Mom started throwing dish towels at him and he started chasing her
around the kitchen table and Jill and I beat a hasty retreat.

   "Wait up for me tonight." said Jill in my ear, and then she was off to
go meet Randy.  I stood there, shocked.  Apparently it wasn't completely
over yet.

   ===========================================

   I thought about Jill and Randy that night.  I knew Randy pretty well,
and he really was shy, so I didn't see any way that he was going to pet my
sister on their date, and the idea of her jerking him off was just
ludicrous.  But she'd said to wait up, so I read in bed, which I liked
doing anyway.

   I heard her come in, and I heard Dad give her a ten minute lecture for
being ten minutes late on her curfew.  She explained that Randy had been
teaching her star patterns and they'd lost track of time and even offered
to take him outside and show him Orion and Alpha Centauri, or at least the
two stars in Alpha Centauri that you could see at this latitude at this
time of year, and she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. 
Dad declined and went to bed.

   Jill didn't even go to her room first.  She came into mine and closed
the door quietly.

   "How'd it go?" I asked, expecting her to say it was boring.

   "We had fun." she said.  "I let him kiss me."

   "How nice of you." I said.

   "Down there." she added.

   I goggled.  "Randy Zimmerman went DOWN on you?!" I gasped.

   She smiled.  "Actually we went down on each other."

   "I don't believe it." I said, not meaning I didn't actually not believe
her.  It was just a habitual response.

   But she took it as a real denial.  She was wearing a leather miniskirt
and she lifted it to show me she wasn't wearing any panties.

   "He tastes different than you.  He's not as big as you, of course, but
he was fun to be with because it was all new to him.  I really had a good
time Bobby."

   I cannot begin to tell you how weird it was to listen to her talk about
Randy Zimmerman and how he tasted and how big ...  or small ...  he was.  I
just couldn't visualize it in my head.

   "He said I taste tangy." she said, undoing her miniskirt and dropping
it.

   I don't have to tell you what happened.  Just like before she
orchestrated things and said for me to do this and lie like that and the
next thing I knew her pussy was descending toward my lips and her mouth
covered my knob.

   Let's be honest.  Most fifteen year old guys talk about eating pussy,
and dream about eating pussy, and lie about eating pussy, but most fifteen
year old guys don't actually think they'll EVER actually ever get to EAT
pussy.

   So when it happens, you're kind of stunned.  I know I was stunned.  I
was so stunned that she got my whole face wet by rubbing her pussy all over
it before I perked up and started trying to stick my tongue where I thought
I should try to stick my tongue.  It was probably two or three minutes
before I even remembered her clitty and tried to find it with my lips.

   Meanwhile, my sister, who had done this before, was expertly in the
process of sucking my balls dry.  I don't think she got there, as far as
having an orgasm, I mean, but I sure did.  She drank it all down and kept
playing with my prick while I tried and tried to get her hips to jerk
around in that special little way that meant she was having an orgasm.

   Finally she stopped and climbed off.

   "You'll do better next time." she said.

   I felt like a charity case.

   "Randy was able to get hard again quite soon." she said, making me feel
even worse.  "I want you to get hard again so I can rub." she suggested.

   I felt pretty helpless.  I'd never tried to get hard again after I came.
I mean the whole point of cumming was to feel it, and be satisfied and then
go do something else, right?

   My sister made me sit up, and she straddled me, with her legs around my
waist, her buttocks on my thighs, and her hot breasts pressed to my chest.
Then we kissed for a while.  We kissed a lot.  I'd never kissed a girl this
long, or with this much tongue and we'd only been doing that for what
seemed like a few minutes when I realized that I was, in fact, hard again.

   She felt it, and broke a long kiss.

   "I want you on top tonight." she whispered.

   "I don't know." I said nervously.  "How would that work?"

   "You lay it down where I like it and then you slide it back and forth."
she explained.  She made it sound so simple.

   "What if it ...  goes in you again?" I asked.

   "It won't." she assured me.

   Still with some misgivings, I carefully positioned himself between her
spread legs.  She looked so good lying there, spread before me, that I felt
myself leaking.  I don't know if it was leftovoers from the first time, or
a sign of things to come from this time.  Her small and surprisingly cool
hand grasped my member and, as I lowered my hips, dug the tip directly into
her pussy mouth.

   I stopped and she used the end of my penis to rub her clitty.

   "That's not what you said we were going to do." I whispered.

   "Don't you worry about it." she sighed, digging a little deeper.  "I'm
just getting you ready."

   She had a fistful of rock hard prick in her hand ...  and she thought I
wasn't ready?!



   CHAPTER FOUR

   There I lay, with the knob of my prick firmly planted in the opening of
my sister's virgin pussy.  My body knew what to do about that ...  but so
far I had been able to control my body.

   "That's not what you said we were going to do." I gasped again.

   "I know, but it feels so good." she whispered huskily.

   When I felt the tip slip up into her hair I let myself down on her,
trapping her hand between us.

   "Ohhh Bobby, come on." she complained.

   "Let's try it the way you said." I insisted.

   I raised up enough to let her pull her hand out from between us and then
experimented with sliding my prick along the folds of her pussy lips.  She
jerked as the bottom of my long cock scraped across her clitty.

   "Mmmm that's nice too." she panted.

   It was nice for me too.  She was wet, and she got even wetter, so much
so that there began to be these wet squelching sounds as my balls slapped
up against her pussy mouth.

   Her hands came to my waist and she pushed.  I couldn't figure out what
she wanted until I slid down too far one time and the knob of my prick slid
into her pussy mouth.

   "Yessss right there." she hissed.

   Man, that felt good too.  All that hot, wet pussy flesh surrounding the
tip of my cock felt really good.  REALLY good.  It was almost instinctive
to push a little.

   She sucked in air as I stretched her and I pulled back and angled myself
so that the head slipped up over her hair.  I stroked again, and again her
hands started pushing.  I don't know if I was teasing her, or if she was
teasing me.

   "We're going to do something you won't like if you keep doing that." I
panted.

   "But it feels so gooood." she whimpered.

   "It's too big." I cautioned.

   "It didn't kill me last time." she countered.

   "You bled." I reminded her.

   "I told you ...  all women bleed the first time." she panted.  "Come on
Bobby ...  just a little bit?  Please?  It feels so good."

   "You'll get pregnant." I warned.

   "No I won't." she said, her hands doing their best to move me where she
wanted me.

   I shouldn't have given in.  I knew it then and I know it now.

   But I did.

   With very careful and conscious control I let the tip go back between
her pussy lips and poked at her a little.  I planned on doing only that ...
poking a little.  I figured as soon as it started hurting her she'd tell me
to stop.

   Maybe that's what "Ngggggg" meant, when the head of my prick popped into
her pussy channel.  She got all tense and made that sound, and I stopped.
Her hands were still gripping my waist on both sides, but they just
gripped. They didn't push.

   I pulled it back out and her hands gripped me tighter.

   "Do that again." she ordered.

   "No." I said.

   "Do that again or I'll just scream." she panted.

   "You won't either." I knew she was lying.

   She took a breath and said "Bobby!" so loud I thought my parents were
already on the phone dialing 911.  I panicked.  What were they going to
think if they opened the door to find out why she had yelled and found me,
naked, on top of my also naked sister?  No one would ever believe that it
wasn't rape.  I knew she could lie with the best of them, and that she
would lie and say she didn't have anything to do with all this.

   I know that's not really fair to Jill.  It doesn't fit with what we had
done, but I had spent years and years being put in positions of trouble by
my sister.  It was just easier to think she'd bail on me than believe that
she really wanted me to put my prick back in her.

   At any rate, I panicked and did exactly what she told me to do.  I stuck
it back in her.

   Maybe it was the panic that made me stick it a little further than I had
in the past.  I mean it was only a couple more inches that slid up into her
hot, gripping box.  What I do know is that the breath rushed out of her in
a long gasp, and my mind somehow registered that, without all that air in
her lungs, she couldn't scream again.  And THAT thought, somewhere in the
synapses of my brain, suggested that if I kept pushing, she wouldn't be
able to breathe ...  or shout.

   The upshot is that, by the time I got in control of my brain again, my
sister's virgin pussy had six inches of very hard, very thick cock jammed
in it.

   I had the split second sensation of all that heat, wrapped around my
prick and almost sucking at it, and then I jerked it back out.

   "I'm sorry!" I sobbed.  I knew she was going to scream again, this time
for real, instead of just to scare me.

   "Oh fuck." she moaned, her hands gripping my sides hard enough that I
knew there would be punctures there.  Her eyes were wide open, glinting in
the light of my reading lamp, and she was staring up at me.  I felt my
prick start to soften and it sagged down and touched her pussy lips.

   "Again." she said.

   "You can't be serious." I stared at her.

   "Again." she insisted.

   "This is crazy!" I moaned.

   "I'll scream." she warned.

   Blackmail!  I was being blackmailed by my own sister, who was demanding
that my donkey dick be put inside her.  She was crazy!  This was the
stupidest idea she'd ever had.

   "You're probably bleeding again." I said, thinking that would stop her.
Her hands relaxed a little and she pushed my body up, lifting her head to
stare down at the tip of my cock drooping into her pussy.

   "I don't see any blood." she said.

   "Didn't it hurt?" I asked, amazed.

   "Some." she said vaguely.  Then she looked at my eyes.  "Again." she
repeated.

   "You're sure?" I asked, unbelieving.

   "Ohhhh yes." she said, dragging it out.

   "I think I'm getting soft." I said.

   "That might be even better." she countered.  Her hand came to my cock
and she stroked it several times.  "It doesn't feel soft to me."

   What do you do when you're with a woman who is bent on doing something
that will probably kill her, and get you killed in the process, but who is
so stubborn that she insists on bringing about her own demise.  I was going
to get killed either way.  If I did what she wanted, she'd be torn in half
and probably die and my parents would be REALLY unhappy.  If I didn't,
she'd scream and my parents would storm in there and be ...  REALLY
unhappy.

   So I stuck it in her again.  I put those six inches back in her.

   It didn't go in nearly as easily as it had before.  My prick sort of
bent or something, and I had to push a lot harder.  It felt really good,
though, and I pulled it almost out.  By then it was back to being granite
and I started in again.  We both looked down as I did it this time, and she
didn't exhale all her breath this time.  In fact, she INhaled as I slid two
thirds of my prick back inside her velvety sheath.  I stopped when I hit
something deep inside her that didn't feel like it was going to move.

   Her head went back and she arched her back, holding her weight on the
back of her head and her hips.

   "Ohhh fuck that feels sooooo...." she didn't finish.

   "Are you OK?" I asked, feeling the urge to push harder and fighting it
hard.

   "Yes." she gasped.  "It's so ...  it feels so ...  " Again she didn't
finish, but her hips wiggled.  It was the kind of wiggle that could be
interpreted as either an attempt to get away from the thing skewering her,
or an attempt to get more of that skewering thing inside her.  It was
impossible, for me at least, to figure out which one.  I pulled out a
little.

   "Ohhhhhh" she said as my thick member pulled at her pussy walls.  That
"Ohhhhh" was hard to interpret too, but the urge to push back in was so
strong that I had reinserted a couple of inches before I could stop myself.

   "Oh fuck, Bobby," she gasped.  "You just have no idea how that feels."

   "Doesn't it hurt?" I asked.

   "Yes ..." her hips wiggled again.  "No ...  " they wiggled some more. 
"I don't know." she responded in typical female un-clarity.  "Just don't
stop."

   It suddenly struck me that I had been inside her for a couple of minutes
now, and she wasn't bleeding, or flopping around on the bed expiring
noisily, and that, in spite of everything I had ever believed, it was
actually possible that my prick might actually fit inside a woman and not
destroy her.

   And she had said not to stop.  So I didn't stop.

   I have no idea where all those scruples I had such a short time before
went, but they left room for something else, and that was a desire to make
my sister squeal.

   I started sliding almost all the way out ...  and then in as far as I
could get.  I didn't go fast.  Her pussy was so tight that it pulled at the
skin of my dick and I knew if I tried to go fast it would hurt both of us.
She gurgled a lot.  It's hard to describe the noises she made as I reamed
her out.  That's really the only phrase that fits in this situation.  I was
reaming her out.

   And it felt fabulous.

   Her hips started getting a little closer to being in time with what I
was doing to her, and lost a little of their uncoordinated movement.  Her
hands left my waist and flopped down onto the bed, maybe halfway between
being beside her hips, and being completely outstretched.  Her eyes were
closed and she was breathing like she'd just run two miles as fast as she
could, her breasts wiggling as they rose with harsh intakes of breath and
the slight twisting she was doing with her upper body.  Her nipples were
long, and I leaned down to suck one in.

   This was just the best thing that had ever happened to me in my whole
life.

   She jerked as I sucked that nipple and when I raised my head her eyes
were open again.  As I raised up, her head snapped up and she stared at
what my prick was doing down there.  She watched as I pulled almost out and
then slowly slid all the way back in her ...  or at least as far as I
could.

   "Ohhhh fuck" she panted.  "Feels soo goood."

   I hit bottom and she quivered all over.

   "Uhhh" she grunted.

   She repeated that grunt each time I pressed into the back of her pussy.
If I pushed a little harder, her grunt was a little louder, but she wasn't
complaining.  She closed her eyes again and arched her back up off the bed
and then let herself relax again.

   That liquid squelching sound that tennis shoes make when you've been
wearing them in the lake and come back out on dry land.  You walk and it
squelches.  She was making that sound down there so much that I looked down
expecting to see liquid squirting out all over the place.

   She opened her eyes again.  "You're ...  fucking ...  me." she gasped
between panting breaths.

   Well duh!  Wasn't this what she'd wanted?  I thought for sure it was
what she wanted.  Why would she point out the obvious.

   "You want me to stop?" I asked, knowing deep inside that I couldn't stop
now ...  not unless she beat me off of her.

   "NO!" came her urgent grunt, and her hands came back up off the bed to
grip my shoulders.  "Don't stop Bobby ...  please don't stop."

   I looked down and my prick was shiny wet when it came out of her.  I
speeded up a little and got an impassioned "Yes!" from her.  That made me
go faster still, until I was banging into the back of her pussy with each
thrust, no longer able to control how hard I was pumping into her.

   "Oh yes!" she yipped, and then set up a chant of more "Oh yes." each
time I hit bottom.  She was getting loud.

   "Shhhhh" I cautioned her.

   One of her hands left my shoulder and clapped over her mouth and she
made unintelligible noises as I kept going.  My back started to complain
and I laid down on top of her.  I felt like I was crushing her, but her
arms went around me and her mouth went to my neck and she used that to
muffle her cries.

   In this position all I had to do was flex my hips, hunching them, sort
of like a belly dancer does, and then flexing them back the other way.  The
travel of my prick was shorter, but it felt so good I had to keep doing
that.

   I didn't know it then, but that also put the top of my dick solidly on
her clitty and just about rubbed it raw.  She got wild under me, her hands
sliding all over my back and even down to my ass, where she pulled as I
pushed, until she went rigid all over and made a high pitched keening noise
in my throat.

   That high pitched noise stabbed straight to my balls and I felt the
first convulsive spurt of semen start racing through my cock.  I knew I
should pull out, but I just couldn't.  Instead I pushed as hard as I could
and I froze too.

   Nothing ...  nothing has ever felt like that.  I knew I was cumming a
river up inside her, and all I wanted to do was make that river a permanent
part of her inner landscape.  I wanted to cum until it spurted out of her
ears.

   Her head was twisting and her mouth came to my chin.  I lifted it a
little as she actually bit me there and her hands came to my head and
forced me into a kiss.  As my balls continued to push thick sperm into my
sister's belly, she practically ate my lips and tongue.  She was wild, her
body wriggling under me so much that it felt like she was trying to throw
me off.  But her hands gripped my face, keeping me there for a longer and
longer, even more torrid kiss.

   It was the most unimaginably sweet, almost painfully passionate moment I
had ever dreamed of, and it was real.

   You'd have thought that once the passion faded a little, we would have
been shy, or contemplative, or sorry, or something.  What we were was a
pair of lovers who had risen to a new level, a new kind of relationship, a
relationship that, whatever came, couldn't be dismissed.

   Neither of us said anything for probably ten minutes.  I stayed right
where I was, crushing her under me, as we traded kisses that got
progressively shorter until they were numerous relaxed nibbles.  We were
both wet - not from my semen, which was being held inside of her by my
prick, which had gone soft, but was still firmly plugging her sex.  No,
this was sweat, and we were dripping with it.  It felt slippery between us
and made things even more intimate in some way.  Sweaty people don't just
hug each other under normal circumstances, you know?  But this felt good
for some reason.

   Finally I could tell she was laboring to breathe, and I rolled off of
her.  My prick made a wet sucking sound as it pulled out of her, almost an
obscene kind of sound, but one which neither of us cared about just then.

   "I wanted that so much." she breathed, turning her head toward mine.

   "I thought you said I'd never have sex." I reminded her.

   "I didn't think you could." she said.  "But something made me try.  I
had to try."

   "You don't look dead." I joked.

   "I feel just wonderful." she smiled.

   "Not sorry?" I asked.

   "No way, Ho-sea" she quipped.

   "I came in you." I admitted.

   "I know." she said.  "I could feel it."

   "Not sorry?" I asked again.

   She smiled and rolled over to kiss me a short kiss.

   "No way, Ho-sea."

   "Want to do it again some time?" I asked, the pit of my stomach suddenly
knotted at the possibility that she'd come to her senses and say that this
was the only time we could ever do that.

   "Every day." she answered seriously.

   "We can't do this every day." I said just as seriously.

   "Yes we can." she said, her eyes half lidded.

   ================================

   Well, long story short, that's how I came to be called "Uncle Bob".  The
fact is that while we didn't do that every day, Jill got me to do it with
her quite often.  Her firm resolution that she would not become pregnant
turned out to be based on her inner decision not to become pregnant, rather
than anything based in science.  The fact was that I knocked her up within
a month.

   Mom and Dad were furious, of course, and moaned and groaned about not
being strict enough, and making her curfew too late, and letting her go out
on too many dates with boys they didn't know.

   She was already in the dog house, and when they demanded to know who had
done this to their baby girl, she figured that things couldn't get any
worse if she just told them she didn't know.

   There was one tense moment when Mom remembered his joke about "Good
girls being in bed by nine and home by midnight" Mom tried to blame it all
on putting ideas in Jill's head.  Jill got between them and stuck her chin
out.

   "Daddy didn't make me do anything." she declared.  "I decided what to do
and I screwed up, and it's all my fault.  I'll deal with the situation.  I
don't want this to affect the rest of my family."

   It was a noble thing to say, and I was impressed.  She didn't try to
wiggle out of it.  But that brought up another argument between our parents
who argued about just what "taking care of it" meant.  It turned out that
both of them were arguing against an abortion, but didn't know it.  It
might have been funny if it hadn't been so serious.  So Jill, at almost
eighteen, had a baby boy, which was named Jeffrey, of all things, and, to
the world at large, I was an uncle.

   Uncle Bob.  Kind of has a nice ring to it, you know?

   Of course I knew it was my son, and I doted on him, but I suppose uncles
dote on their nephews too, so it didn't seem odd to anybody.  Jill finished
High School while Mom took care of her grandson during the days.  Jill made
an argument that I knew was a bald faced lie about how she should still be
able to date and all that, but our parents were pretty adamant about her
being a mother first, and about how she had partied once too often already
and all that.  Parents never accept you as an adult, even after you ARE an
adult, and they sure don't treat a single mother still in school as one.

   But the fact was that Jill only played the part of a High School girl
who had made a terrible mistake, and was paying for it.  When she looked at
me there was something in her eyes that made me all warm inside.

   Obviously, our nighttime games came to a screeching halt.  That was
tough on both of us for a while, but the occasional kiss told us both that
our love was still real, and still there.  The hardest part of it for me
was going on dates with girls I didn't care about so that I would appear to
be normal too.

   Jill did well in school, and got a full ride for "disadvantaged youth"
because of our son.  It was when she went off to college with Jeffrey that
it about killed me.  I still had another year of school to go, and I didn't
know if I'd make it or not.  Jill came home a lot, since she was going to
the State university in Carbondale, which was only an hour away.  She was
doing pre-med, of all things, and the scholarship included a stipend to
live on so she wouldn't have to work and could apply herself to being a
mother and student only.

   By the time I got to State - NOT on a scholarship, I might add - Jeffrey
was a wild kid firmly into the terrible twos and Jill talked our parents
into letting me stay with her "to provide a good male role model in
Jeffrey's life." She could still sell popsickles to an Eskimo when she
wanted to.

   We moved into a two bedroom apartment and used the second bedroom for
Jeffrey, unless someone was coming to visit, in which case we made it look
like a sloppy college kid lived in that room.  Actually I studied in there,
being watched by my "nephew" while I pored over stuff that I didn't care
about, but had to, if you know what I mean.

   Two years later, just before Jill entered Medical School, she presented
our parents with their second grandchild, a girl this time.

   "So you're getting married?" hinted Mom, who held the baby like it was
the most precious thing in the world.

   "No." said Jill airily.  "I like the guy, but not enough to marry him."
she said.

   My mother was outraged, and my dad did all the things dads do when they
know their daughter sleeps around.  But they got over it.  At least Jill
waited a while to inform them that she was used to living with me, and that
Jeffrey was too, and a strange man in the house would just make things
difficult.

   Parents live in their own little world, most of the time.  I think it
was grandchild number four, who waited until Jill graduated from Med School
to be born, that caused my father to step back and look at things.  I mean
I wasn't married, and had never had a girlfriend I talked about for more
than a month or two.  I couldn't drag out a fictional relationship longer
than that without being pressured to bring the girl home to meet the folks.
And Jill wasn't talking about any special man in her life.

   But she kept getting pregnant.

   And Dad wasn't stupid.  He just lived in that little world where parents
just don't reflect on their children having wild hot sex together and
making babies as a result.

   He looked at me strangely for months after that, but never actually said
anything.  Mom just nattered on about how Jill would never find a husband
with all those kids, beautiful and precious though they all were.  She
spoiled them like any Grandmother does.  Dad did too, for that matter.

   I don't know if Dad ever said anything to Mom about his suspicions or
not, but eventually he started acting normal to me.  Well, if you can call
normal his assuming that Jill and I would be living together after I
graduated from my course in engineering.

   He only said one thing that tipped his hand.  We were talking about
where I might find employment after school, and I said I already had a job
offer from a firm in Johnsonville.

   "Hmmmm." he said.  "That's only twenty miles from where Jill is going to
be doing her residency, isn't it?"

   "Yeah." I said, noncommittally.

   "And you two are going to keep living together, huh?" It was a
statement, and not a question.

   "I've kind of gotten used to helping out with the kids." I said, still
trying to sound like I was saying something normal.

   "I'll just bet you have." said Dad.

   That was it.  He changed the subject and never brought it up again.  He
always called me "Uncle bob" when the kids were at their house.  Once, when
I was in another room and could hear them, but not see them, Melissa was
acting up and he threatened to tell Uncle Bob that she was being bad and
needed to be spanked.

   "Uncle Bob won't spank me." she piped.  "He LOVES me."

   "I know he does, pumpkin," said her Grandfather.  "I know he loves you
...  that's why he WILL spank you if you need it."

   "I'll be good." said my daughter.

   "Well then, maybe I won't have to tell Uncle Bob what you did." said my
Dad.  "You want to go play on the swing set?"

   It was just the kind of conversation you'd expect a grandfather to have
with his granddaughter about her father ...  not her uncle.  That's why I
thought he figured it out.

   Mom was oblivious, through those four and the two that followed over the
years, up until the day she died.  She was lying there, dying of cancer,
looking wan and pale and we all knew she wasn't much longer for this world.
I was sitting with her and she had been sleeping, or at least had her eyes
closed.  They brought in a tray of lunch and woke her up, but she wasn't
hungry.

   "Bobby?" she said.

   I looked up from the magazine I had been reading.

   "You've lived a good life and I'm proud of you." she said.

   "Thanks Mom." I responded.

   "I've never been ashamed of you ...  never ...  and not of Jill either."
she said.

   My gut got tight.

   "Thanks Mom." I said.

   "You take good care of your father when I'm gone." she said.  I opened
my mouth but she went on.  "And those kids too.  You take care of them too.
I'm so proud of them." She had tensed up and relaxed back into the bed, her
hand going for the morphine pump that she seemed to hit more and more often
these last couple of days.

   Somehow, in that moment, I knew that she knew, just like I knew that Dad
knew what had really happened.

   "I will." I promised.

   "You're the best Uncle they could ever have." she said softly.  "You did
good, Bobby.  Real good.  Tell Jill I said the same thing about her, will
you?"

   "She'll be here later today." I said.  "You can tell her yourself."

   "I'll do that." she said.  "Now, you've been sitting here too long.  You
need some fresh air.  Go find your sister and play some one on one with her
or something."

   And then she went limp and that death rattle I had heard about so many
times, but which no one could ever be prepared for, sighed out of her and
she was gone.

   Another one of those bricks hit me in the head just then.  She'd known
for a long time, if not the whole time.  My mother had known who had
fathered her Grandchildren, but had never let on even one minute that she
knew.

   In that moment, a moment that was filled with sadness mixed with
gladness that her pain was finally over, there was also a generous touch of
astonishment.

   I knew exactly where Jill had inherited her ability to act and say
things that were completely at odds with the truth ...  and pull it off
flawlessly.












   
