Chapter 14

I could barely look my father in the face all the rest of the afternoon, I felt so embarrassed, but after lunch, he seemed relaxed and unconcerned. We bought a pair of fancy but very comfortable shoes that he assured me would be a perfect complement to the suit – I was a bit shocked at the price but he said “Don’t worry, son, we can afford it. And these will last you a lifetime if you take care of them. I’ll show you how.” By the time we got home, it was late afternoon. Mom was in the kitchen with Chrissy, cooking together and giggling over something. I didn’t know what to make of this new domesticity. I wondered when Chrissy and Mom started spending so much time together; in the past I would have found Chrissy reading or watching TV on a Saturday afternoon, certainly not in the kitchen cooking with Mom – if Mom were even cooking at all. A tiny part of me felt jealous, or maybe even a little annoyed – why did we sometimes seem to be turning into a “normal,” TV-worthy family who ate together around the dinner table now, of all times, after so many years of benign neglect on the part of our parents? But when Chrissy came out of the kitchen and hugged me, I felt better right away. She started to sneak a kiss, but with my dad still there in the hall, putting away his things, I was feeling a little unnerved and just stroked her hair a couple of times, whispering “later.”

That night, though, while we slept together as usual, I didn’t feel up to making love; I guess I was exhausted from the emotional stress of the day’s revelation. I didn’t say anything about it to Chrissy, just laughed that I could barely keep my eyes open, and we fell asleep happily in each other’s arms. Sunday morning, we made slow, languorous love, Chrissy lying on top of me with her head buried in my armpit, moving back and forth with the shaft of my penis not inside her, but pressed between her labia, her clitoris rubbing against the upper part with each movement. It went on forever, only the slow pace keeping me from exploding; when Chrissy began to speed up, I couldn’t help myself and moaned that I was coming. “Come, Alex, come,” she murmured, and I blew my load, my penis pulsating with an intense, but curiously localized sensation, as if my whole orgasm were concentrated at the head. When it was over both of our bellies were sticky with semen, but Chrissy lay there motionless with her head on my chest. “That was nice, Alex.” she said. “But you didn’t come!” I exclaimed. “It’s OK, it’s just nice to lie here with you.” We were quiet for an indeterminate while longer, listening to each other’s calm breathing, feeling each other’s heartbeats. Then I said “Chrissy, let me do you with my mouth.” She giggled and said “How should I sit?” A wild idea struck me and I blurted it out before I could lose my nerve. “I’ll stay lying here, just sit up on my face.” Chrissy was unfazed. She got up and positioned herself in a squatting position, so that her vulva was pressed against my mouth, her thighs, already wet with her juices, on my face, careful to avoid putting her full weight on me. “Am I too heavy?” she queried. I reassured her that she wasn’t, that in fact she could sit down if she wanted, and reveled in her delicious fragrance. She began to move back and forth, and I licked and licked, taking great delicious mouthfuls of her as she used her fingers to masturbate her clitoris, as usual. It felt like heaven; the sheer corporality of my lover, my sister, her slightly chubby belly hanging right above my eyes, her vulva and, as she moved in longer and longer strokes, more and more often her butt grinding themselves into my mouth, releasing their intoxicating flavors. After a few minutes, she leaned back, my tongue found its way into her anus, she sped up her masturbation and then came hard and fast, her butt clenching around my face, vaginal juices dripping onto my chin. There was no ejaculation – I’d noticed that inevitably required some penetration of her vagina – but she sighed in a deeply satisfied manner as she quickly got up off my face. “C’mon Alex, let’s take a shower.” We washed up and got ready to face the day.

That Friday, my suit had arrived when I got home; I tried it on in front of the full-length mirror in my room, with the shoes we’d bought. I waited until Chrissy was off studying in the living room – I figured if I couldn’t see her dress, she’d have to be surprised too. I had to admit it – I looked amazing. I barely recognized myself; I mused that if I didn’t know it was my reflection, I might even find myself attracted to the guy in the mirror: just a tall, dark-haired, solid, fairly strong-looking fellow who looked like he might be a lot of fun to hug. Since I was little, I’d always know that I had the ability to be attracted to members of my own sex, although most of them didn’t do anything for me; there had been boys at school, though, whom I had crushes on, and even to this day, I sometimes peeked at certain classmates before or after gym class from the relative safety of the far end of the locker room where I was dressing. I had never felt any real consternation about being attracted to the occasional male body; by and large, it was girls that turned me on, and anyway, I’d never really picked up any signals that suggested I should be worried about being anything but straight; Mom and Dad were many things, but not narrow-minded. I felt a nice little tingle of excitement; people were going to look at me in that suit and be attracted to me. Maybe other girls, maybe even some guys. I wouldn’t even know, and I wouldn’t care, because I had Chrissy, but it was nice to think about it. I could feel my hardness coming on, just as it had in Jock’s store; this time, I let it develop, then stripped down to just my underwear and stood there admiring myself. I wasn’t as paunchy as I had been this time last year, I thought; sure, I had a bit of a roundedness to my belly, but nothing serious. My shoulders were broad and my chest, while almost hairless, looked like that of a man, not a boy. My legs and arms looked strong, with downy, not very heavy hair covering them. My penis was making an appealing tent in my tighty-whities; after a while, I took them off, revealing a solid erection surrounded by a patch of black, curly hair, above a not too big, not too small ball sack. “Not bad,” I whispered. “Chrissy’s right, people will look at us and like what they see.” I took my penis and began stroking. Without really needing to visualize anything, just feeling stimulated and contented, I brought myself to a pleasant orgasm in front of the mirror, catching my cum in my left hand. Then I dressed myself in jeans and T-shirt again and went out to see what Chrissy was up to.