When I was 15 years old I was the average teenage boy. Not especially bright, but not stupid either. Not a jock, but not a total nerd. Not especially handsome, but not repugnant either. Just an average kid in small town America growing up with average middle-class parents ... and an average dumb-ass sister.
It was almost midnight. I was sitting on the couch in the basement family room watching some cheesy 1950’s sci-fi flick when my phone rang.
“Billy, it’s Crystal,” the voice said, “I’m outside in the driveway and I need you to come get your sister.”
Without any further talk the line went dead. I was kind of in shock, because Crystal was a 10+ on the penis erection scale and she never spoke to me directly. She was Sally’s best friend.
Now don’t get me wrong, Crystal wasn’t a snob or anything, and my sister Sally wasn’t evil or mean or anything, but they were both a year older than me and ran in different circles. We rarely talked to each other than the cordial “hi” or “hello” on coming or going about our daily affairs.
Sally actually was a pretty decent sister. She was always courteous and respectful of me, and even upon occasions, loving and caring in a sisterly sort of way. We had been roomies until she reached 11 and I was 10. That was when my mom and dad moved my bed down to the basement family room and Sally kept her bedroom on the main floor.
Mom and dad slept upstairs on the second floor. And since we had a bathroom on every level, it actually worked out great. I enjoyed having the basement to myself ... well except when mom did laundry, or when Sally had a bunch of friends over to watch TV in the family room. I never minded them sitting around on the couch or even lying on my bed which was against the far wall. Come 9 p.m., they all left and I had my area back, most of the time to myself, unless Sally was watching TV with me.
The point is that everything worked fine in my home, and all was always predictable and quiet. And that is why I was puzzled when Crystal called me.
Throwing on a pair of shoes, I walked upstairs quietly as mom and dad were fast asleep, and walked out to the driveway. Crystal was sitting on the hood waiting.
“You need to get Sally inside and get her cleaned up,” she said matter of factly.
“What’s wrong with her,” I asked?
“She’s stoned out of her gourd,” Crystal said not too friendly, “She’s been drinking hard stuff all night, smoking dope, and then I think someone tried to date rape her. When I noticed she had been gone for an hour, I went looking for her and found her with her pants pulled down to her knees. She wouldn’t respond at all. At first I thought she was dead, but then I could see her breathing. But she won’t wake up as she is so out of it.”
“I think I should go get dad,” I said as I started to turn.
“No, don’t! She’ll be in big trouble and there will be hell to pay.”
“That’s not my problem,” I said.
“But it will be,” Crystal added, “Because next year you’ll be 16, and if your mom and dad see her like this then you can kiss any opportunity of late night teenage freedom goodbye when your turn comes.”
Crystal did have a point. Mom and dad would likely keep me on a tight leash if they saw Sally in this condition. Whenever Sally did something wrong, they made sure that I didn’t repeat the same mistake ... this had been something of a sore point with me as I had to live in my sister’s shadow of mistakes.
“Okay then,” I said, “Let’s get her inside.”
“I can’t help,” Crystal said, “I almost puked getting her here.”
“What’cha mean,” I asked?
“Open the door, you’ll see,” she said.
When I opened the door where Sally was sitting, I immediately gagged. Sally’s pants were wet where she had pissed on herself. And she was covered with puke.
“Oh my god,” I exclaimed!
“It’s worse than that,” Crystal added, “I think she had diarrhea and shit herself as well.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” I asked, more yelling than asking.
“Just get her inside and put her in the bathtub until she wakes up,” Crystal said, “Please Billy, I’m begging you!”
“Okay, okay,” I said resignedly, “But you owe me Crystal.”
“Thanks Billy, I won’t forget this.”
With that I reached into the passenger side of the car and grabbed my stinky wet sister and physically slung here over my shoulder. I kept retching, but didn’t vomit as I carried her towards the house. The last thing I saw was Crystal quickly pulling away as I entered the back door.
Once inside I paused and considered my best course of action. I couldn’t take Sally to her room, nor could I leave her in the first floor bathroom as mom and dad used it during breakfast before leaving for work. No, I would have to take her downstairs with me. I only hoped the smell would dissipate before morning.
I carried her into the bathroom and laid her in the tub. She was a mess. And by this time, so was I. I smelled like shit and puke from where she had soaked into me. So my first step was to peel my clothes off ... and I mean down to nothing.
I carried my clothes out to the family room and tossed them into the washer. Then returning to the bathroom, I managed to get Sally’s tennis shoes off. They were clean at least, which is more than I could say for her socks. They were ankle high, and the tops were brown where shit had run down her legs on the insides of her jeans and the socks ended up acting like a sponge ... soaking up the liquid crap.
Still gagging, I peeled them off.
Next came the T-shirt covered in puke, followed by a soiled sports bra. Believe me, at this time there was nothing exciting or sexual about things ... just pure disgust.
“Sally, wake up, wake up,” I coaxed her, but nothing. She was totally out of it as Crystal had described. Dead to the world.
Next I unfastened her jeans and it was not without some major strength and effort that I managed to get those nasty things off of her. Why do wet jeans stick like glue anyways?
Her white panties had large brown stains in them from front to back. The smell was so overwhelming that at this time I turned on the bathroom vent just to get enough air to breathe praying that I wouldn’t die from toxic inhalation.
One more trip to the washer and everything was in and ready to go. I doubled the normal soap load and turned it on the “hot” and “heavy duty” cycle.
I still smelled like shit.
Back in the bathroom I turned on the tub water. I got it icy cold, and pulling the diverter knob, the ice cold water jetted from the handheld sprayer.
Washing down Sally finally started to have effect as I noticed that the smell was getting better. I reached down as best I could and rolled her to her side, pulling up her ass cheek and spraying her butt hole to clean it. Then lifting her leg, I sprayed directly on her pussy.
Do you know what the word perfunctory means? Well that’s what this was. A perfunctory cleansing. At no time did Sally even utter a noise. Once when the water hit her nose, she did cough. That was reassuring to me, I mean I was glad she was still living, but for the life of me couldn’t understand how she could be so out of it.
After a few minutes the water coming off her body was clear and clean. It was time for me to be the same way.
Adjusting the spray and the faucet handles, I got the water nice and warm, returned the sprayer to the holder, and stepped into the tub to rinse. It felt good and within a few seconds I was back to smelling normal myself.
It is hard to turn around in a tub when your sister is lying in it, but I managed.
The last thing I needed to do was to wash both of our hair. I lowered the plug and let the tub fill with water, and carefully stepped behind Sally. Being very careful to not slip, I sat down in the tub and scooted her up to me so that her back was to my chest. Grabbing some baby shampoo, I lathered up both of our heads and then positioning her under the water jets, rinsed, first her, and then myself.
It was time to relax.
“Sally, wake up Sally...” Of course there was no response. I really didn’t expect anything to change in the 30 minutes since my last effort, but you never know.
As I sat in the tub, I was both angry at my sister and ashamed at myself as well. Because after the cleansing part was over, I got to thinking, ‘here I am with my sister, naked in the tub, wonder what I can discover... ‘
What would you do in my situation? Well I did what I did. First, I reached around and felt her boobs. Like I said earlier, we had last been roommates 5 years ago when I was 10 and she was 11. In those 5 years she went from being flat chested to being ... well womanly. So my squeezing and caressing her boobs seemed only like a natural thing for a 15 year old boy to do.
The fact that I squeezed her nipples, twisted them, noticing how they stood out when I did that only fueled my curiosity.
“Sally, wake up damn you,” I said harshly! No response.
So I squeezed her tits, really hard, trying to see just how much you could squeeze them. She was sure to wake up the next day really sore, but I didn’t care. I mean I loved my sister, but she also pissed me off by making me have to clean up her shitty ass.
I’m sure the shrinks could diagnose my love/hate feeling about this time if they tried hard enough.
After about another 20 minutes the water started to cool and I decided it was time to get out.
Carefully I laid her back against the tub while I got out and grabbed a large towel while the tub drained. Then wrapping her in the towel, I lifted her, again with great Herculean effort and carried her to the dayroom and placed her down on my bed.
Handling her carefully, first her hair, then her face, hands, arms, abdomen, feet, ankles, calves, thighs ... I made sure she was completely dry.
Then I again acted my 15 years of age and spread her legs wide and dried her private parts.
Private parts sounds so much less crass than the word pussy!
For the record, Sally has, or did have then, very thin curly pubic hair. Not too much, not bald, but just the right amount.
I rationalized that it was my duty as her brother to make sure she was alright, after all, didn’t Crystal say that she thought maybe she was the victim of date rape? As I was saying, I felt it my duty to carefully inspect her nether regions.
So I spread her legs as wide as I could get them and pulled apart her pussy lips and looked in. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking at to be honest. I’d never seen a pussy up to that point, except in pictures, and those are never the same as the real thing.
I could see the opening, and just at the opening was what I knew was her maidenhead. I know I could have said hymen, but again I’m trying to be mature now while I wasn’t back then.
Barbara Jones was a Special Ed girl at my school who was always saying, “Eat my pussy.” And I knew that a few of my friends had always said that they loved to eat pussy, though I suspected they were just acting like they did. So I decided to give it a try.
I stuck my tongue out and licked my sister. She tasted a little like soap. Not what I suspected. Then I stuck my tongue into her hole. It really didn’t go very far, but it was warm and tasted kind of salty. Again, it wasn’t the “sweet nectar” that you read in any of the porn magazines. It just didn’t taste like anything really.
So much for the taste test I thought. Then an idea occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t getting in far enough, so I did the next logical thing. I stuck my finger in Sally.
Now this was pretty amazing. I had certainly no idea what to expect. I was surprised how warm it was, and how moist it was inside. It was so soft ... really soft. And as I rubbed around in there I tried to equate it with something, maybe like velvet, or like inside your cheek. Wet and warm, and really soft. Did I say soft? Super soft.
“Sally, wake up!” Still no response. Good.
Wanting to explore further, I pulled my index finger out and stuck in my middle finger ... it was a tad longer. It felt the same. It wasn’t until I pulled it out and stuck in both my fingers that something felt different. Especially as I was pushing in as far as I could go.
Panic time! Blood! Oh shit.
What felt different was that Sally was wet, from her own blood. I thought that the hymen was supposed to stretch some. Obviously not as much as I thought. It was bleeding, I had torn it. Well, it was really Sally’s fault I reasoned. She’s the one that got drunk. If she hadn’t done that, I would never be sticking my fingers into her now.
I did taste one of my fingers. It tasted like blood that you would get from a cut anywhere. I had thought that maybe pussy blood tasted different.
I was glad that had laid her on top of the towel now. Easy to wash a towel, not so easy to wash a mattress.
All this time, for about 30 minutes now after the tub, I had been exploring Sally ... and all this time I had been sporting the hardest boner I had ever had. I mean it was so hard you could have cut granite with it.
To be honest, I guess I knew all along that it would come to this, but I didn’t think about it directly until decision time was upon me. Well, there really was no choice ... well there was a choice, but I wasn’t going to make one. Or maybe I did.
Making sure the towel was under her ass good, and she was lying flat on her back, head comfortable on a pillow, I positioned myself between her legs and guided my dick into her pussy.
Ha! That was my goal, but it just wasn’t that easy. First it slid across the outside and pointed upwards, then it slid down between her ass cheeks and no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t get the damn thing to line up.
But I’m not easily discouraged.