A note from Buddy
Listen, I want to tell you this story, but you should know that parts of it are a little gross, OK? You can bail anytime you want and I won't be offended, but don't say I didn't warn you.
Jim and I were 15 that summer. My sister, Sam, was 14 and Jim's sister, Kit, was 16.
I know I didn't include this when I was telling you earlier about stuff with me and Sam and Jim and Kit, especially when I told you about that other overnight with me and Kit and Jim that happened later on. Don't get mad. It just took me a little while to decide to talk about this.
Hot, even in the shade in our backyard, where Sam and I were lying side-by-side on our backs under the big tree.
"I think it looks like Mrs. Johnson."
"Nope. Nose isn't big enough."
Mrs. Johnson was the choir director at our church and seemed to know everything about everybody, or thought she did, anyway.
"Buddy, how about that one?"
My name is Peter but everyone, I mean everyone, calls me "Buddy." Except Mom, that is.
Hah. I got one. Sam was better than me at this game, but not always. I stretched, arms above my head, and closed my eyes.
Summer in the Valley. Warm air like, well, like warm air is. Presses on you everywhere. Great when you're nude, kind of, but maybe not so much when you're dressed. Clouds low in the sky.
I could feel my t-shirt sticking in back, even in the shade. Left the clouds on their own for a moment, opened my eyes, and turned to look at Sam. I wanted to lick those little drops of sweat off of her upper lip.
I closed my eyes again, but I could hear the smile in Sam's voice.
"Go ahead, Buddy."
Turned on my side. Salty, warm, and my tongue liked every little drop. Then my lips were on hers and she opened a little and I did, too, and our tongues were where they wanted to be and we were both all sweaty now all over and who cared?
I slipped Sam's t-shirt up to her neck. She was still smiling, at least I think she was, but I couldn't really see because I had first one perky nipple in my mouth, then the other, and my tongue was very busy.
Someone giggled. That sounded good, so I kept on kissing and nibbling and sucking. The giggles stopped and someone's hand was on the back of my head pulling me in tight against her.
I moved up to Sam's neck. Felt her pulse with my lips. Rolled on top of her, her legs parting to let my cock fit right on her pussy. I was hard. Was she wet? I couldn't tell through the layers of cloth between us, but this didn't seem to be the moment to check. Anyway, my cock didn't care either way and in a second we were dry humping to beat the band.
It may not be as much fun as the real thing, I know that, or skin touching skin even if you're not inside her, but it's pretty good, you know?
Slowing to let Sam buck and grind against me until she gasped and froze. That was my cue and I was about six strokes away and then it was my turn to thrust, grunt, and collapse.
"Shower, Buddy. Mom'll be home any time now."
Didn't want to move. Didn't care about the mess in my underpants. All I cared about was Sam, warm, sweaty and soft beneath me.
Sam shoved me.
"Now, pal! I mean it."
I caught Sam kind of looking at me at dinner that night. Then she'd look away. I don't think Mom noticed, not so sure about our little sister, Debbie. I tried to talk to Sam after dinner, but she just smiled.
I must have been sort of whining the last time I asked. Her look was sharp, then tender as she leaned close.
"Do you like Jim's cock, Buddy?"
My mouth was open. Nothing came out. My stomach lurched. Sam kissed me on the cheek, smiled and went up to bed.
Even after I closed my mouth it took me a minute to realize I was harder than I'd ever been, harder even than the first time I looked down the front of Susan Volmer's dress in sixth grade and saw her entire right boob, including her nipple.
A couple of days later we were up early, still in the cool of the morning, when we ran into Jim and Kit at Central Park.
Sam grabbed Kit and tugged her over to the next picnic table. I looked at Jim. He shrugged, but I asked anyway.
"So, what's that all about?"
"I'll tell you this, though. Kit keeps talking about our last overnight."
My shorts were suddenly a little uncomfortable, and I shifted things around. Jim noticed.
"Yeah, Buddy. Me, too."
I was thinking about me and Jim doing our best to fuck Kit silly, with her enthusiastic cooperation as she returned the favor. In the end, it was pretty much a draw.
Sam still not ready to go all the way with any of us yet, but that last time she got so twitchy and horny watching I thought she'd explode. It only helped her a little when later on Jim spurted all over her boobs and tummy as she worked herself into a frenzy with her fingers.
"I'm up for it, pal."
I smiled back at Jim.
Jim shrugged again. Shifted his weight.
What the hell? I remembered Sam's question the other night. Was he thinking what I was thinking?
I let my breath out.
"What about her?"
"You OK with this?"
He looked away.
"I mean, that night, her and me?"
I stared at him. I couldn't really believe that this guy, my best friend since kindergarten, even needed to ask.
"Are you kidding?"
He looked worried.
"Have you ever seen Sam do anything she didn't want to do?"
Jim shook his head.
"Have you ever heard her ask for permission? I mean, if she thought whatever it was was OK otherwise?"
Shook his head again.
"Then, I think you know the answer, don't you?"
"Well, hey, Buddy. I had to ask, you know?"
"Yeah, I know."
I ran out of steam. I kept thinking about Sam's question but, I mean, how do you ask a guy about his cock? Just then the girls came over, so I was saved and we took off for home where we had stuff to do.
Chores done, Sam and I had been on the couches reading most of that afternoon until she tossed her book down and headed for the kitchen.
"Buddy, come here and give me a hand, will you?"
I heaved myself up. Jesus, that kid never lets anything go, does she?
"What is it?"
"Lemonade. Get in here."
I walked through the dining room into the kitchen and right into Sam's arms. I felt her warmth as she pressed herself against me and squirmed and kissed me. I'm not stupid. I kissed her back, my hands on her butt pulling her against me.
I really wanted to slide my hands under her clothing and give her something serious to squirm about, but I didn't.
"Hey, Sam, easy. Mom's going to be home in five minutes."
Sam's nipples pointy, her mouth kind of soft and blurry. She swallowed.
"Not that I mind being jumped, you know?"
She leaned up and her lips were soft against mine. Tender, just enough pressure there to show me she was serious.
She twisted out of my arms and pulled the lemonade jug off the shelf.
"Grab the lemons, will you? Ice cubes, too."
Now what? She hasn't needed my help in making lemonade since she was about five years old. Never mind. She'll talk when she's ready.
It only took a couple of minutes, and we were at the kitchen table drinking lemonade and clinking ice cubes and looking at each other. Sam's hand was warm in mine, and I knew I'd do almost anything she wanted.
"What's up, Sam?"
She looked away, but I noticed her nipples were pointy again under her t-shirt. When she turned back to me, though, her eyes were grey and steady, the way they always were.
"You and Jim."
My turn to look away. I did know, and once more my shorts were uncomfortable. When I turned back, Sam was smirking.
"Shorts too tight, Buddy?"
"Ha ha ha."
I coughed. Squirmed. Stood up and let things fall into place, Sam watching my every move.
I was thinking about last summer, when Jim and I were sleeping outside at Jim's house, Sam and Kit inside. Jim and I had been kind of fooling around, not touching each other, but stroking side-by-side.
We'd also done a little dance outside Kit's window, ending by spurting all over the grass. Just remembering this was getting me hard again, although I kind of knew what was really turning me on. It was what happened later.
Kit and Sam had come outside, wearing only panties, and did kind of a little dance for us. Well, no surprise that Jim and I reciprocated in the way teenage boys do best. Except that Kit wanted us to stroke each other.
We did, and it felt really really good. There, I've said it. I know, guys who like girls aren't supposed to say things like that, are they?
The key thing, something every guy finds out pretty fast, is that someone else's hand on your cock feels a lot better than your own. And honestly, when you're as horny as we were that summer, it really doesn't matter all that much whether that other person is a girl or a boy. Better a girl, sure, but still...
"Hello? Buddy, you there?"
"Where'd you go?"
I shook my head. Squeezed Sam's hand and leaned across the table and kissed her. Let her go just as Debbie opened the back door and walked in, Mom right behind her.
.... There is more of this story ...