Chapter 4

That night my mother blew my mind. It was after supper. We watched some TV and then Mom and Dad said they were going to bed. Mom said, “Bobby, I need to have a word with you in your room before I retire.”

I went to my room and she said she’d be right back. She detoured to their room and I went in mine. When she came in she had something in her hand. She handed it to me. It was a washcloth. It was green and opened up to a square about nine inches on a side. I looked at it and then at her, curiously.

“I’m going to start having your sister do laundry instead of dishes,” she said. “It would not do for her to have to deal with your crusty socks. From now on, use that, and it’s your job to wash it out every so often.”

I blinked. My mother had just informed me that she had known I was using a sock to jack off into for the last four years!

“It’s normal, Honey,” she said. “But don’t make your sister face that.”

“I’m sorry you had to,” I said. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“And embarrass you into catatonia?” She smiled. “I think you’re old enough now for us to have these conversations.”

“Conversations, as in plural?”

“I have a speech on how to treat a woman and another one on how not to be an asshole, but we’ll wait on those until it seems like the right time.” She hugged me and then left me holding a green spooge rag.

I had just taken off my clothes when the door opened and Tasha slipped in. She had on her PJs, which were matching top and bottom with unicorns and rainbows on them. Dad gave them to her on her seventeenth birthday and told her he didn’t want her to get any older. She loved them. I did, too, because her breasts bobbed around in them quite a bit.

“Do you stand around naked just waiting for me to come in here?” she hissed.

“No. I was getting ready to get into bed.”

“You sleep nude?” Her voice rasped.

“Yes. Mom got those sheets with umpteen hundred thread count and they feel delicious on my skin.”

“You are such an asshole,” she sighed.

“Why am I an asshole for liking nice sheets?” I complained.

“Never mind,” she said. “What did Mom want?”

“Oh! You’ll never in a million years figure it out.” I showed her the washcloth and told her what Mom had said.

“No way!” she gasped. “She knows you jerk off?”

“She said I was normal.” I preened.

“Well, she’s right. The first time I came across a sock like that I’d have stuffed it down your throat. Ewww, Bobby! Have a little decency!”

“Don’t worry. I have learned my lesson and you’ll never run into my spunky washcloth. I’ll take care of it and spare your tender feelings.”

“Good. The only place I want your spunk is on my skin.”

I blinked at her.

“Wow,” I said. “You just made me very happy.”

She looked pointedly at my penis, which had thickened, but not lifted, yet.

“I came to kiss you good night,” she said.

“Really? Is this a new tradition?”

“Maybe.”

She pulled me against her. In that thin cotton pajama outfit she might as well have been naked. It covered her very well and concealed her body, but once you touched it, it felt like you were touching her skin. Her mouth was in my neck and she kissed it as I moved my chest against her soft breasts.

“I have come to a decision,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked, as my hand fell to her firm butt.

“I want her to teach you everything and make you an expert. Then you can rock my world and all I have to do is lie there and take it.”

She ground her pussy against my cock, which had awakened as soon as felt her tits against my chest.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “I’m already an expert at sucking nipples. Might I demonstrate?”

She leaned back and her hand found my black snake. She squeezed it and tried to stroke it, but it wasn’t quite hard enough, yet. She stepped back until we could both look down and see her hand hefting my tool.

“If I sucked it, would it get hard fast?” she asked, softly.

She didn’t have to suck it. Just talking about it did the deed. Now she could slide her hand back and forth along it. She did that a few times and then dropped my penis. She pulled my face against hers and kissed me almost viciously.

“Good night, little brother,” she whispered.

“No! Wait!” I whined. “You got me hard. Aren’t you going to do something?”

“I am!” she said, brightly. She leaned around me and then stood back up.

She handed me my green washcloth.

“There you go. Have a good time.”

Then she turned to leave the room. In the open doorway she looked both ways and then, before she closed my door, she lifted her PJ top up and flashed me her tits.

Before all this Tasha would do things to get me in trouble when she was pissed off at me. This was the first time I found out what Tasha was going to do now that our relationship had changed.

I almost preferred getting yelled at by Mom or Dad when I was innocent.

At least my sister didn’t hold a grudge. The next morning, after Mom and Dad left for work, Tasha came through my door wearing only the bottoms of her PJs and crawled on top of me. I had slept in, probably because all the drama (and pretty good sex) had made me exhausted.

“Wake up, Bobby! I need my nipples sucked! You said you were an expert. So, prove it!”

I took her by surprise and the next thing she knew I was sitting on her hips and her hands were pinned over her head. I realize I couldn’t hold them and reach her nipples at the same time, so I whipped them down and pressed them into the bed beside my knees.

Tasha had never let a boy get her boobs bare. This was because one of the things she did when she masturbated was squeeze and pull her nipples. So she knew there was a source of pleasure, there. When I bragged about sucking them, that’s what was on her mind when she left me high and dry, the night before. She was not, however, prepared in any way, shape or form for what she felt when I latched onto a fat, black nipple and repeatedly tugged at it with sucking lips.

“Oh-em-fucking-gee!” she squeaked. I felt her trying to get her hands free and leaned harder on them. I switched nipples and she started whining, begging me to let her go. I lifted my face and kissed her between her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Is this causing you distress?” I knew it wasn’t. Mrs. Pastrianni loved it when I nursed her breasts. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Please let me go,” she panted. “I don’t like being forced.”

I heard something in her voice that told me she wasn’t kidding and let go of her wrists instantly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared of you,” she said. “Please continue. I think I might actually be able to cum this way if you go long enough.”

So I kissed her and then went back to giving her nipple love. Soon she was humping her hips up against my butt, so I stuck one leg out to the side and moved it back, parallel to her legs, which were straight and closed. Then I leaned the other way and did the same thing with the other leg. My balls fell into her thigh gap and my dick, which was rock hard, lay right where her pussy lips were. She had the kind of vulva that faced forward. In other words, you could see her split if you were standing in front of her. That meant her clit was in the forward position, too, and now the bottom of my stiff prick was lying on top of it.

I started sawing my cock forward and back while I sucked and she just went ape-shit. Her legs tried to open and I had to lift each knee. Now I could press against her with more force and I started dry-fucking her while I tried to get milk from her nipples.

She was moaning and whining about how she was going to cum and when she stiffened and cried out, I dropped my face to her sexual vee and pushed my face into her pussy. Even through the cloth I could smell her arousal. I couldn’t lick anything, so I just whipped my face back and forth, rubbing her pussy with my nose and chin. She shrieked and I wondered if maybe Mrs. Pastrianni could hear her. Then her legs whipped around my head and I almost suffocated. Her legs were much stronger than I expected them to be.

She kept my head imprisoned for maybe a minute or two and then let her legs flop down beside my shoulders. I wished her bottom was as bare as her top. I would have sucked her for hours. I just kissed her loudly on where I thought her pussy lips might be and crawled up to kiss each nipple before I went on up to her face.

I flopped down and she rolled to throw a leg and arm over me.

“Give a girl a little warning, next time,” she panted.

“Next time take off your bottoms, too.”

“No way, Jose,” she said. “I do not want to get pregnant.”

“You can’t get pregnant from being licked,” I said.

“Yes, that’s true, but if I didn’t have my bottoms on I would have made you fuck me. I would have grabbed your balls and told you that if you weren’t inside me within thirty seconds I was going to rip them off.”

“Wow,” I said. “Remind me to wear a cup, next time.”

“Do you mean a Jock Strap?”

“Let me up and I’ll show you.”

“Promise to come back?”

“Yes. I have to work on a way to get those bottoms off.”

She stuck out her tongue at me as I got up. My football stuff was in my sock drawer, for some reason. I got the special jock strap out that had a pocket for the cup and inserted the cup in it. Then I stepped into it and pulled it up. I walked over and said, “Go ahead. Hit me in the balls.”

She just touched, and then pushed, before she pulled it away from my package to try to examine it. I made her let go and took it back off. I handed it to her.

“You have to wear it during practice and games,” I said.

“I wondered why guys weren’t holding their balls after a knee hit them there.”

“Now you know. If I wear that, it should feel really nice right ... here.”

I snuck my hand down inside her PJ bottoms and got a finger in her slippery pussy before she grabbed my wrist.

“You may not do that when you have a hardon,” she said.

“I always have a hardon when I’m in bed with you.”

“I mean, you can’t get me going like that if your hardon is bare, and not trapped inside your pants.”

“Ahhh,” I said. “You are thinking ahead. Very wise.”

“Please take your hand away, or put some pants on.”

I took my hand out of her bottoms.

“If you were to jack it off, it would get soft and harmless,” I suggested.

“Aren’t you going to go next door today and get your rocks off, there?”

“After yesterday? Uh, no. We have too much to decide on before I think about doing that again.”

“Won’t your lady fair be pining for your log?”

“My lady fair loves me,” I said. “Ergo, she loves those I love, which means she loves you, too. If she gets in a bad way she’ll call you and ask if she can have me for a bit.”

“I do not believe that,” she said.

“Well ... I’d prove it to you but I don’t have her phone number.”

“Let me get this straight. You make mad, passionate love to her for what seemed like an hour, and you don’t even have her phone number?”

“No. It never came up. If she needs something she usually calls here.”

“Where’s your phone?”

It was on my night stand and she retrieved it. She punched some buttons and said, “What’s her first name?”

I blinked. It seemed like I should know that, but I couldn’t think of anything at all. She stared at me.

“Please don’t tell me you had sex with this woman and don’t even know her name,” groaned my sister.

“I always call her Mrs. Pastrianni,” I complained. “I’m polite.”

“Polite means asking a woman her full name before you put your dick in her,” snorted Tasha.

At that moment my phone went off. I use the submarine ring tone, which means my phone goes “OOOGAH, OOOGAH” when I get a call. I used all caps there because it’s loud. My sister looked at the screen and said, “Unknown number”.

“Answer it,” I said. “Whoever it is knows me and just isn’t in my contact list.

She swiped to green and said, “Bobby Richards Phone. Who is calling, please?” She listened and then laughed. “Well hi, Jill (she leered at me). We were just talking about you.”

She listened.

“No, it wasn’t anything bad. I just asked Bobby what your first name was and he didn’t know. I was castigating him for being a misogynist, when you called.”

She listened.

“No, he is a terrible man. I have instructed him that the next time he wants to make love to a woman he is to, at a minimum, ask her for her full name.”

She listened.

“No, we’re fine. We worked things out. Well, we haven’t exactly worked everything out, but we’re not mad at each other anymore.”

“I was never mad at you,” I objected.

She shushed me and listened.

“Thank you. Now that you’ll be in his contact list he can actually call you and see if you’re free. We’d love to come over some time.”

She listened.

“Okay. Thanks again. I’ll tell him. Bye.”

She tapped off and fiddled with the phone to put Jill Pastrianni in my contact list.

“She said to say she loves you and from now on you’re supposed to call her Jill if there are no adults around. She wondered why you were always so stiff and formal, even when you were in bed.” Tasha giggled. “Just so you know, I’m not going to bed with you until you ask me my full name.” She giggled again.

“Excused me, Ma’am,” I said. “I desperately need to know your full name, date of birth, phone number, and favorite color.”

“Ha, ha,” she said. “You already know all that.”

“You said I had to ask, and I don’t know your favorite color. Does this mean that, until you tell me, I will not get to dip my wick in your honey pot?”

“You are the UN in ‘uncouth,’” she said. “You have zero couth. You have no couth at all.”

“Please take off your bottoms,” I said. “I want to lick you.”

“You haven’t put on pants yet, and she hasn’t made you an expert, yet.”

“If I put on pants will you let me at least taste you?”

She looked at me with serious eyes.

“Bobby, when we do go over there I’m going to ask Jill to stop us from having sex until I’m ready.”

“Of course,” I said. “I would never force you to do anything.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she said. “It’s me. I had dreams last night.”

“What kind of dreams? Pornographic?”

“In the extreme,” she said. “I woke up and almost went to get in bed with Mom and Dad.”

“I think those days are over,” I said.

“I know. I went back to sleep, but I was nervous about it. I was afraid I’d dream it again.”

“What was this terrifying dream?”

“I was in this big, soft bed, and Jill was right beside me. We were both chained to the bed, except we could hold hands. Every once in a while you’d come in and fuck us and every time you did, our bellies swelled up and we had a baby. It didn’t take nine months. It only took ten minutes. Then, maybe an hour after the midwives took the babies away, you came in and got us pregnant again. It was like you were running a puppy mill and we were the bitches.”

“Nope,” I said, firmly. “That will never happen.”

“Gee, thanks. I feel so much better,” she snarled. “I was worried that was what my future would look like.”

“We should probably steer clear of you having a baby from me at all,” I said.

“Oh! You don’t need to go to college. You’re already a genius!” she said.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m a misogynist,” I said.

“I don’t,” she said.

“Good.” I kissed her and goosed her pussy.

“You’re an asshole, but you’re not a misogynist,” she added.

Tasha left me with a boner and when I got dressed and got to the kitchen, she was already finishing up her breakfast.

“I’m going to Lisa’s for a while,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Please don’t go see Jill while I’m gone.”

“Okay, why?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want you going over there and having sex without me. I’m confused.”

“Because you don’t want to have sex yet and you don’t want me to have it, either?”

“Yes. No. I do want to have sex. I’m just scared spitless to do it and I don’t want to try until I won’t shake like a bitch in heat.”

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The Breeding of Jill Pastrianni

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