Chapter 3

They didn’t just hug in the water. They made out like teenagers after prom. Well ... like I imagine teenagers make out after prom. I haven’t actually been to a prom, yet. I’ve heard stories, though.

His hands were everywhere, touching her in different ways. He stroked, and cupped, and probed. The thing intruding between her legs was withdrawn and replaced by his fingers, which drove her almost insane. Her penmanship, as she described this, was so shaky that I knew she was reliving it in her mind as she wrote. One finger penetrated her and lifted her in the water. It felt alive inside her, “moving like an inch worm” as his lips sucked at the skin on her neck.

Her own hands began to explore and she described the bulges and swells of muscle on his back, the tightness of “his bottom”. She said her fingertips intruded in the crack, there, until she jerked them away in shame. But as far as the rest of it went, she felt no shame. She said it felt as if it was all preordained by fate. She said that the entire time, she thought about him going to the war and being killed, and that this might be her only opportunity to feel this close to another human being for the rest of her life.

He led her to shallower water, until her upper body was exposed. He shocked her by dipping his head to suck at the tips of her breasts, like a baby, and how that made her knees so weak that she sat down in the mud on the bottom of the pond.

He pulled her up and washed her, before he led her to the blanket.

Again, his fingers penetrated her as they embraced. As they kissed, he got halfway on top of her and she was both terrified and elated at the same time. He moved against her, “like waves lapping at the beach” and then, inexplicably, he jumped up and grabbed his clothing. He took her bike, the one with the flat, and began running, naked, towards the road. She called out to him but he ignored her. She sat up, and only then saw the evidence of his passion, dripping from where it had pooled on her abdomen. Instinct told her what it was. She called it his “issue”. She’d never seen this fluid before, but it could only have come from him, and it was located right where his manhood had been rubbing her skin while his finger probed inside her.

She went back to the pond to wash it off, and then got dressed. Riding his bike, she caught up with him as he was putting his shirt back on. His trousers were in place, though he was still barefoot. One of his shoes was lying on the ground a few feet away and she intuited that he’d dropped it as he fled.

“I’m all right!” she called, trying to put him at ease.

He was out of breath, his chest heaving and she said his eyes were wild. She had to reassure him all was well several times before he finally sat on the ground. He apologized and she said he had nothing to be sorry for.

I had to read a lot in there between the lines. I imagined them talking about what had just happened. Did their lack of sexual education make him think his seed had taken root in his sister? Was that why he was so unstrung? My mother once told me that she was told, as a child, that merely touching a man’s privates was enough to ensure that a foolish girl could get with child. It wasn’t that long ago that young people believed babies were found in cabbage patches, or in a sling in the beak of a stork.

I knew she was fine. But what did they know, back then?

For sure she thought his fingers had destroyed her hymen, making her wonder if that meant she wasn’t a virgin anymore.

Bobby was just sitting there, staring at nothing.

“She said she was okay,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, listlessly. “I guess. He went off on her, right?”

“That’s the way I read it. Are you still horny?” I asked.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know how to feel,” I admitted.

“I get that,” he said. “I never wanted to go skinny-dipping with my sister before.”

“But now?” I probed.

He looked at me.

“I know how I’m supposed to feel,” he said.

“Just talk to me,” I said. I was feeling nervous, and I was still very horny. By now I felt the urge to rub. I knew how I was supposed to feel, too. I just didn’t feel that way.

“This is kind of serious,” he said, softly. He only glanced at me, but I saw his eyes drop to my boobs.

“I’m sure it was for them, too,” I said.

“Okay, what if the idea of seeing you like that, and being in the water like that, and ... um ... holding you like that makes me feel...” He stopped.

“Excited?” I prompted, using her word. “Like she uses the word, I mean,” I clarified.

He actually blushed and looked chastened.

“Maybe,” he equivocated.

“What do you mean, maybe?” I said. “You either have a hard on or you don’t.”

“I’m not supposed to get a boner for my sister,” he groaned.

“Herb wasn’t, either,” I said.

“So if I do have a ... if I am excited like that ... how does that make you feel?” I guessed that was a vulnerable as he was going to get, but I took it.

“Relieved,” I said.

His eyes got big again.

“I thought I was the only one who could have thoughts like that,” I said.

“Thoughts like what?” he asked, carefully.

“Thoughts of what it would be like if you and I went skinny-dipping and I got to see you like that, and you looked at me like that.”

He was clearly flummoxed, so I went on.

“I mean I’ve thought about being naked with a guy before. It’s just that I couldn’t think of any guy I really wanted to do that with. Guys at school are so ... they’d brag about it. I’d get a reputation as a slut. But if it was you, I know that would never happen. If we did that, I think it wouldn’t be so scary.”

“They did a lot more than just see each other naked,” he said.

“I’ve thought about doing that with a boy, too,” I admitted.

“No!” he barked. “You can’t do what they did with some random guy. If you did, I’d have to kill him.” He looked angry.

“You don’t own me, Bobby,” I said. “I’m going to get married some day and have some man’s babies. You can’t stop me from doing that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. Now he was obviously angry.

“That’s way in the future,” I said, trying to calm him down. “Let’s talk about us, instead.”

“Is there an us?”

“No. Not like that. Not yet.”

He leaned back.

“Do you want there to be an us?”

“It wouldn’t be scary,” I moaned. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“We don’t have a pond,” he said. His face changed. “I said all we had was a shower. Do you want to go take a shower with me?”

I felt a wave go through my body and I got light-headed. I had no idea what was causing it, but I felt it strongly.

“Shower?” I wheezed.

“Yes,” he said. “Get naked, like they did, and go in the water together ... like they did.”

His meaning hit me. I imagined that pickle being replaced by his finger ... my brother’s finger.

It wasn’t scary at all.

“I was kidding,” said my brother, after I said I was ready for our shower. I think he felt like he was a little like a leaf being taken somewhere by the wind. I was the wind, at the moment.

“Oh.” I know my voice sounded strange. “I suppose you want to read more?”

“Well, no,” he said. His voice sounded strange, too. “Not if you’ll really take a shower with me.”

“I think we’ve read enough for one day,” I said.

I went to the bathroom we shared. Dad had remodeled it when he had three teenagers who had to share it. The shower wasn’t huge, but you could turn around in it easily without bumping into the wall. It had a glass door, so nothing leaked out of it when someone moved around in it. I turned to find Bobby standing in the doorway to the bathroom. I was pretty sure he thought I was punking him.

“We can’t do anything they didn’t do in the diary,” I said. I had thought of this on my way to my date with a destiny I’d never even dreamed would be there.

“Right,” he said. He sounded a little breathless. “They did a lot so far, Jenn,” he added.

I ignored the hugging and groping and him squirting on her part. I thought I could handle being in the shower naked. That was enough.

“They got undressed at the same time, so we have to do the same,” I said.

“I didn’t read that,” he said.

“It was between the lines,” I replied.

“Okay.”

“You ready?” I asked.

He blushed.

“You have to promise not to get mad.”

I knew then that he had a boner ... and that that boner was probably because of me. And I still had my clothes on.

“I won’t get mad,” I said.

I reached for the hem of my T shirt and pulled it up, exposing my bra. It was a plain white sports bra. I wear them most of the time because my boobs are so heavy. He was standing there, staring.

“Together!” I reminded him.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled as he took off his shirt.

My football-playing brother had muscles under those shirts he wore. I felt tingles just below my belly button.

“I can’t believe they don’t let you play more,” I said, undoing the button on my jeans. “You look like you’d kill anybody you tackled.” I knew he was a linebacker, or something, one of the guys who tackled whoever had the ball.

“I don’t weigh enough,” he said, kind of vacantly. His eyes were watching my fingers unzip my jeans.

I pushed them down. I happened to be wearing Hello Kitty panties that day, but I didn’t care that he might think they were juvenile.

“Together,” I said, softly, stopping with my hands at my knees. I was bent over, but I knew he couldn’t see my cleavage. Those sports bras covered that up.

He jerked and I swear he had his pants off in ten seconds. He was kicking the legs off as I stood up, holding my jeans.

I waited. I knew he was wearing briefs. He always did. I’d seen him walking around in them. My Dad did the same thing. Both had lumps, there, sort of undefined bulges. I knew what made those bulges, of course, but it could have been a sock stuffed in there, just looking.

When he stood up, though, there was no sock in his briefs. They were stretched to the breaking point by a wooden dowel with a round end. Except, of course, I knew it wasn’t a dowel.

It was a penis, an erect penis, and it was erect because of me. It was erect because its owner wanted, on some level, to push it into my body, where it would be the delivery mechanism for his sperm cells to invade my uterus, looking for one of my precious eggs to fertilize.

I almost fell down because my knees turned to water. What was I doing?!

“Hey,” he said. “Maybe you should sit down or something. You look like you saw a ghost.”

I realized that he wasn’t as affected by all this as I was. He could stand there in his dark blue Calvin Klein’s, ready to ravish my poor pussy, and yet concentrate on something other than that. He was caring about me, and all I could do was breathe. Barely!

I took a deep breath and turned my upper body back and forth, like I was loosening up for exercise, or something. My jeans flew through the air like some odd flag, until I realized they were there and let go of them. They happened to fly right at him, landing at his feet.

“Give me your shirt,” he said, picking up my jeans.

Like I was hypnotized, I bent over to get my shirt and took a couple of steps to hand it to him. He crushed it against my jeans in a ball and then pressed it to his face, inhaling, deeply.

I swear something squirted in my loins, just like when you’re hungry and your stomach growls.

He tossed my clothes on top of his, and walked past me to open the glass door to the shower stall. He reached in and turned the water on. Then he turned to face me.

“All I have on is one thing, but you have two things on. I thought we were supposed to be together.”

“You know this is different,” my voice cracked.

“Is it? I have breasts. I have nipples. Mine are exposed.”

I looked at his chest, and discovered something about myself.

I like men with muscles. I like them a lot!

I reached to touch one of his breasts, which I thought of as muscles. His nipple, an inch from my finger, looked like mine did while I was playing with myself, sliding a finger in and out, scraping my clitty and pressing it, until I got that release that always felt like it would make me scream. If I wasn’t in the shower, I always did this lying in bed, on my front, with my face in my pillow.

“You have to take that off,” he said, reaching to touch the shoulder strap of my bra.

“Okay, I will,” I said. I was sure I sounded like I was ten.

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The Summer of '42

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