Chapter 5

I really didn’t mind running all that much. I had pretty long legs and if I set the right pace I could go for a few miles before I felt the burn. In theory I even had an advantage over Jenn because her legs were shorter, except that she was one of those people who can stretch it out from the get go. She ran with these long, leaping steps that just ate up ground like you couldn’t believe. My comfortable stride took me maybe 28 inches (I’m estimating by looking at a tape measure laid out on the floor as I write this) but her stride was easily 36 inches. I could stretch to that pace, but I wasn’t in shape to keep that up for miles and miles, like she could.

We ran side by side but didn’t talk. It was strangely nice to just be with her, doing something we hadn’t done in many long years. A long time ago we raced against each other all the time. I think that’s what got her into running on a serious basis, because it always delighted her when she beat me. But that was usually only in long races. I had the advantage when we sprinted.

Of course we weren’t sprinting on this run, or even competing. Rather we were just running companions.

I could go into the details of the route we took and how many people we saw who we knew and waved to, but that really has nothing to do with the purpose of this story. I’ll sprint to the part that picks up where we left off.

I got home before her, of course. I was tired, but in a feel-good kind of way, so I sat down to cool off by reviving my sorceress and trying to kick the shit out of the dragon that had previously incinerated her. It was almost noon and I had just died for the fourth time when Jennifer came panting into the living room.

“Shower time!” she announced.

“Again?” I was a little disgruntled. Or insane.

“I’m all sweaty,” she said.

My brain caught up with things. I dropped the controller like it was a candy wrapper I was discarding and stood up. I could already feel the blood rushing into my cock.

“I’m in,” I said.

“Good,” she said.

I was aware that she had done all the work in the previous shower that morning. What I hadn’t thought about was that she might have been aware of it, too. This became clear when we got under the water and she turned her back to me, handing me the soap over her shoulder.

“You had your fun this morning,” she said. “Now it’s my turn.”

Now think about that. It sounded very reciprocal. What I mean is it sounded like she expected me to do for her what she’d done for me. Tit for tat. And what that meant was that she expected to have an orgasm. Right? What else could it have meant?

There was only one problem. I didn’t have the faintest idea how to masturbate a girl.

Oh sure, I knew there was a clitoris involved, but I’d never seen one. I knew vaguely where it was and that it was a bump between those fat lips. I’d heard stories of guys doing things to it with their fingers and lips, but that’s a little like knowing that scientists can configure a rocket to go into orbit around the moon. You know the theory, but really don’t understand the particulars or think you’d be up to doing it yourself.

Not that I didn’t want to. My cock was already straining, pushing into her back. My balls had pressed against her in that special spot at the bottom of a woman’s spine where there’s a little dip that turns into the top of her butt crack and my cock was parallel to her spine, as if it were a kid, measuring itself against an adult, trying to see if it was any taller than it used to be.

It seemed like the logical place to start was with her breasts. Okay. It wasn’t logical. I just wanted to touch them. I slid my arms under hers and she lifted her hands to put them against one wall and the top of the door to the shower. When my hands smoothed over her breasts I actually heard her gasping sigh of breath. The way she leaned into my hands assured me it wasn’t a gasp of dismay, though, so I fondled my very first set of boobs.

It was fantastic.

It was ... indescribable. Even now as I try to remember the details all I can think about is how something seeped through my prick and made it feel a teensy bit better.

Naturally I had to explore those nipples, which felt much softer than they appeared. When she was excited her nipples stood out and looked like they were pink-colored olive pits. But when I squeezed them they crushed a little bit like my cock crushed when I choked the shit out of it. Her head dropped when I did that and her butt pushed back against me. She made this sound that, if it were under different circumstances, I would have interpreted as either frustration or pain, but I was pretty sure it was a happy sound.

Things were going really well, which gave me confidence. The water had washed all the soap off my hands and her boobs, so I had to remove them to lather up my hands again.

Then I went for the gold.

I slid both hands around her and, with one above the other, moved them down ... over her flat abs ... across the landing strip ... At this point my left hand stayed there as if it were protecting her pubes, and my right hand kept going, sliding right between her legs.

She went up on tiptoes and moved her left foot sideways about a foot or so. If ever there was an invitation (like I had lots of experience with that) then this was it.

In the process of copping a feel of her pussy it was only natural to turn my hand so my fingertips pointed down. There wasn’t all that much room down there, and that made things fit better. So I suppose it was also only natural that my middle finger happened to be in the perfect position to slide right between her lips. My hand was so slippery that it moved faster than I expected and the next thing I knew the tip of my finger was inside my sister’s pussy. It happened so fast that I had only a split second to note that the pad of my middle finger had encountered a distinct bump at the top of her slit. It was obvious. But my finger also slid over it so quickly that all I got was the impression. Then, a split second later, my fingertip was in burning hot pussy.

Her reaction was classic. She took in a deep breath and it came out explosively.

“Ohhhh fuck, Bobby” she gasped.

My reception of that comment was quite literal and, for just a second or two, I tried to imagine what that burning heat would feel like around the tip of my prick. Then what little decency I had left in me bitch slapped me and told me to knock that shit off and I went back to exploring this new thing my finger had found.

I’d seen her sawing her two fingers in and out of her quim, so that’s what I did. Yup. I learned on my sister how to finger-fuck a girl. I imagine her reaction to it was similar to what mine had been the first time she reached for and stroked my penis. She hadn’t been experienced, and her grip was a little wrong and her speed was way off. I assumed I was the same way but I didn’t give a flying shit. It just felt fantastic anyway.

She was obviously having fun because she squatted a little more, giving me more room and let me play to my heart’s content.

Err ... I mean wash to my heart’s content. That was what I was supposed to be doing. Washing her.

See how strange all this was? That last sentence looks completely appropriate to me. And yet, to the casual observer, it would be as if a parent barked, “You get in that shower with your sister and you make sure she gets squeaky clean, Bobby!”

Like that would ever happen. Anywhere!

The mind does strange things to compensate for when you do something that’s off the charts.

Anyway, I happily “washed” my sister for I don’t know how long but, because I wasn’t very good at it, and because it takes a girl a lot longer than a boy to get there, pretty soon I felt like I wasn’t doing a very good job of it. So I sort of abandoned her pussy and went back to those soft breasts. She turned around and, as if we’d been out on a hundred dates and made out on every one of them, put her arms around my neck and reached up to kiss me.

Jennifer, it seems, had heard all about French kissing and was dying to find out what it was like. She’d thought it would be nasty before this, but had changed her mind. Perhaps that was because we were in the shower and she could just wash her mouth out right there if she didn’t like it.

Turns out she did like it. Me, too. I’d Frenched two or three girls, but hadn’t been able to do it for long.

Jennifer, on the other hand, was in no hurry to stop.

It was during this marathon French kiss, while she tried to suck on and swallow my tongue, that her hand reached down between us, gripped my cock with a confident grasp ... and bent it to dig the tip of it right between her pussy lips.

Normally a line like the one above suggests a scene change. In this case that line represents a moment of time that is blank in my mind. I know I was aware of where the tip of my penis was. I also know the kiss went on and on as she continued to do what she was doing, but my thoughts were so scattered that I can’t remember any of them.

She wasn’t trying to get it in, of course. All she wanted to do was tease her clitty with it. But in that situation the fine motor control necessary to carefully circle the clitoris, and then rub across it, flicking it gently back and forth, was completely missing. Later I would ... well, let’s just wait for later so I don’t ruin the surprise. The point is that while she tried to rub her clit with my cock, my hips responded automatically and moved around. I didn’t go in her, but her lips lovingly kissed the glans of my penis and gave an amazing preview of things to come if I ever did get it in her. Apparently there are enough nerves down there to be able to differentiate between the heat of the pussy the top half is almost in, and the unhappy cool of the bottom part, which doesn’t get to touch hardly anything.

She broke the kiss and panted.

“Fuck! I have to go. I’m so horny I could just croak!”

Now that was confusing. I was horny too, but the last thing I wanted to do was go.

This, my friends, is how I found out about the dildo.

She turned off the water and got out, grabbing a towel and just giving her body a cursory wipe-down. She headed for the bathroom door while I was still staring after her, reaching for my own towel. Her butt cheeks jiggled as she ran on her tiptoes.

So I followed her. She was already in her room with the door closed, but since she’d come barging into mine (one time) I barged into hers.

There she was, lying on her bed with her legs spread, shoving something clear in and out of her like it was a hammer and she was trying to drive a nail way up inside her. Her eyes were tightly closed so she didn’t know I was there.

So I stood there and jacked off, watching her. It was fabulous.

At some point her eyes opened and she saw me out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and opened her mouth but didn’t speak. Her hand changed paces and began to kind of roll around by her pussy lips. I realized what I had finally identified as a dildo had a bump at the end and she was using that to kind of crush and roll across her clit. Her eyes glittered as they watched me.

“Come here,” she panted.

I had no idea what she wanted, but I stepped forward.

“Are you close?” she huffed.

I just nodded.

I’d been trying to hold off, but I was at that point where I could alter my stroke and spurt in seconds.

“Shoot it on me,” she gasped.

“On you?” I gasped back.

“Right here,” she panted, pointing at her flat abdomen.

So I did. I stepped up until my thighs were pressed against the edge of the mattress, sped up a smidge and Mr. Happy upchucked all over her belly.

Suddenly the clear dildo was cast aside and her hand came up to run through my spooge. Then it went right back to her pussy and she rubbed like she’d spilled something dark on Mom’s best blouse and was trying to scrub it clean.

When she came it was a beautiful thing to see, if you take into account that it looked like she was burning to death or something. Her face got all pinched up and her mouth opened. She grunted about three times and then pushed two of my sperm-covered fingers deep inside her.

“Ohhhh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuuck” she groaned, pulling up into a fetal position, her hand still clamped firmly between her now closed thighs.

I stood there, still holding my shrinking cock. I felt good, but dumb somehow, because I didn’t know what to do then. Turn around and leave? That didn’t seem right. Sit on the bed? That didn’t seem appropriate, either. Say something to her? What might that be? I guess when you’re out of your depth and have no experience to rely on to make a decision, your brain opts for something familiar, something you do have experience with.

“You lie there and rest. I’ll go fix us a snack,” I said.

I grabbed my clothes from the bathroom and picked hers up, too. I knew she wouldn’t put them back on, but mine were fine. I put hers in the hamper and went to the kitchen. We had bananas and apples and there was a box of fruit snacks in the pantry. We also had a box of Cocoa Puffs, which we sometimes snacked on, but for some reason I got out all the stuff to make brownies with. Don’t ask me why. I had all the dry ingredients in the bowl and was getting ready to add the oil, eggs, and milk when Jennifer showed up. She was dressed in terrycloth shorts and a T shirt. I could see her nipples poking out through the shirt so I knew she hadn’t put on a bra.

“Brownies?” she said, looking around me into the bowl.

“Uh huh,” I confirmed.

“Don’t put nuts in them,” she said.

“Okay.”

See what I mean?

Something amazing, something fantabulous, something completely impossible had just happened and she acted like it was just any other day.

At least she did until I slid the pan of batter into the oven and closed the door.

When I turned around she was right there and she put her arms around my neck again and kissed me long and hard. When she finally let my lips loose she leaned back, but still held onto me.

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Showering With Sister

Lubrican

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