Chapter 1

My younger sister and I were both bookworms with vivid imaginations and we used to come up with all sorts of elaborate games that were just pretexts to show each other our bodies and touch each other. The first game I remember, one that she invented and we played many times, had her being the tragic heroine of some Victorian novel, wasting away with some terrible disease, while I was the doctor, visiting her in the attic where she was confined (actually our basement rec room). She’d start by unbuttoning her blouse and I had to bend my ear to her chest and listen. Of course I’d diagnose something terribly wrong in what I heard, and ask her to take her blouse off. She would do so, and I’d run my hands all over her breast and belly while I pretended to be curing her. She’d sometimes complain that I was tickling her but she enjoyed the contact; if I stopped she’d say that wasn’t “cured” yet. As for me, I always was up for the game. It felt uniquely exciting to be looking at and touching my sister like this, though I didn’t yet have a clear sense of why.

Over time, we got more daring. She was wearing a sundress on one occasion when we played the game, and when it came time for me to “examine her” she simply pulled the dress off and sat back down on the armchair in just her panties. I put my ear to her chest as usual and then, gathering up my courage, made some lame excuse about how the illness had spread and I’d need her to take off her panties to diagnose further. To my surprise, she assented readily, standing up and stepping out of them, then sitting back down, stark naked, with her chubby legs spread a bit. I stared in fascination at the unfamiliar sight, then leaned over and took a close look. She giggled and spread her labia a bit with her finger and I took in the view, transfixed. I knew more or less what girls looked like down there from when we used to take baths together, years before, but I’d never been treated to a close-up look like this. Even better, my sister seemed to be in no hurry to end the game. I was too chicken to touch her down there on that occasion, but I made a big show of pretending to be carrying out a thorough medical examination. Then she tried to come up with some excuse why I should also get undressed, but I quite reasonably pointed out that a doctor didn’t need to take his clothes off, so instead she lay down on the floor and I rubbed my hands over her chest and tummy in the usual way. I remember now that she continued to touch herself down there as I “cured” her. Then she wanted me to show her my thing, which — after I’d had such a comprehensive look at her whole body — would have been perfectly fair even though it hardly fit into the game; but I was hard and a little embarrassed about it, so I refused, and eventually she put her panties and dress back on and that was the end for that day.

It wasn’t by any means the end of the games, though. The next time we found ourselves at loose ends in the rec room, we decided to play that we were orphans, like Mowgli, in the jungle. (This one was my idea; though we both read pretty much all the same books, tragic heroines dying from consumption were more her thing; I liked adventure stories.) Naturally an orphan in the jungle would only wear a loincloth (that is, panties) so we stripped down to our underwear and paraded around like that for a while. The crazy thing is I remember we were interrupted on that occasion by our mother, who accepted our explanation that we were playing “Mowgli” without comment and went back upstairs to make dinner. She didn’t even tell us to put our clothes on. I at least had always felt rather furtive about our games, at least to the extent that they involved undressing, and the fact that Mom didn’t even bat an eye was encouraging to me. My sister may have felt emboldened too. After Mom left, she said she was getting bored with us both being orphans and besides there should be animals. She’d be Mowgli and I was to be Akela, the wolf. I agreed, a bit apprehensively. Animals don’t wear clothes, obviously, so I had to take off my underwear and go around on all fours on the shag carpet, my stiff penis bouncing under me. This time I wasn’t so embarrassed to be seen that way; maybe I figured an erection was less embarrassing for a wolf than it would be for a doctor. She petted my head and said “good wolf” and made me roll over so she could get a better look at my underside and so on. Eventually she sat down on the carpet and I had to pad over and lie down with my head in her lap while she stroked me the way one would a big dog. I remember being really excited by this, but then Mom called us for dinner (from the top of the stairs, through a closed door — maybe she didn’t really want to know what we were up to), so we hurriedly got dressed and went upstairs.