Chapter 7: Jean's Backside

The long ride home from our camping trip - after Jean had peed in front of me on the hiking trail and then later had peed through her panties onto my lap - marked a major departure from our previous behaviors. We'd both confessed our thoughts and previous sexual behavior, including those we secretly regarded as kinky if not downright bizarre - our fascination with peeing.

How freeing it was to discover in her the same kinkiness. You see, I loved my sister as a warm and kind person who possessed those estimable traits of honesty and caring and living in the present. Two years older than me, Jean had always been a role-model for the principles of living. So, if she had the same sexual interests as me, I reasoned, it must be okay. As it turned out, the external validation given to me then helped me in the more important internal validation I was to develop as a young man.

The heat of the moment, coupled with our growing trust in each other, enabled us to surrender to our affection and our lust. Confessing, as I did - that I wanted her to pee on me - Jean just laughed and went for it with her customary enthusiasm and verve. Then, as she was straddling my lap, her body pressed against mine, my face between her breasts and her pee leaking into my lap... I blurted out a truth that surprised both of us. I told her that I wanted to fuck her.

Holding her arms about my head, pulling me to her warm breasts, she remained quiet for a little while and then murmured softly, "Billy, I've never done it, and as much as I think I want to right now... I'm not ready."

Her refusal didn't surprise me. My asking is what surprised me. I didn't respond. She hadn't expected me to.

"And if I were ready, Billy... I'm not at all sure that I should be thinking about doing it with you. Our fooling around - the stuff we've done - that's enough for me now. I love you a lot and I don't want to do anything I'll really regret."

Then, as if to check-in with me, she leaned back and looked into my eyes, "Does that make sense?"

Embarrassed at my impetuous outbreak, I mumbled, "Yeah... I guess so... sure." And then with a little more feeling, I added, "I wasn't really asking you to... to do it, Jean... I was just telling you how I felt, that's all."

That moment of discomfort - the fear of having gone too far - passed quickly. Laughing, Jean climbed off my lap and then stood there awkwardly, slightly bent, legs apart and looking down at the wet patch than defined her bottom and part way down her bare legs. Pinching the edge of her shorts between her thumb and index finger, pinky out, she pulled the material away from her hip and shook her leg as she said, "Ech... doing it was a lot more fun than sitting in it."

Then, pointing at my wet lap, she giggled. Jean laughs, she chortles, she occasionally guffaws but she doesn't giggle... or at least until now. A giggle, a little girlish giggle is the best description of the sounds she made as she pointed to my soaked jeans.

We both dug into our packs and slipped into some dry shorts. Ever watchful, I noticed that Jean didn't bother with underpants. I was acutely aware that my soft-spoken, conservative sister was climbing into the 4X4 wearing only a thin T-shirt and hip-hugger shorts... already pulled up into the crack of her butt.

"Nice butt, Sis!"

Looking back at me she smiled, "Glad you like it, bro. I got these shorts with you in mind, but I didn't think I'd ever wear 'em."

She stood there, one foot inside the Scout, like mounting a horse, the step-up was so high. The crotch of her shorts were pulled into her ass cheeks. Posing for a moment, looking over her shoulder at me, she grinned that devilish grin that told me all was not-as-it-appeared on the surface.

My head tilted, as if to appraise her better, I added, "You know Sis, your hips and butt may be your best feature."

Pulling her foot back down, Jean stood up straight. Or nearly straight - she'd stuck her behind out a little at my provocative observation. Still looking over her shoulder, she slowly bent her arms at the elbows and hooked her thumbs into the tops of her shorts at the hips. She posed that way for a long few seconds, palms toward me and fingers splayed. She looked at me as if to say, "So, do you want to see more?"

My obvious answer was a broad grin as I vigorously nodded my head.

Jean slowly pushed the hip-huggers down, revealing by inches the mounds of her ass cheeks. She continued until her arms were straight and the waist of her shorts cut across the mid part of her buttocks, displaying the top part of her ass crack. With her thumbs still stuck into her shorts and her fingers spread out - as if she were signaling someone behind her - she remained posed... bent over just slightly, her arms and hands framing her slim waist and the womanly flair of her hips.

The sun was high and in front of her, making a soft halo of her hair and casting deep shadows around her ass. Two dimples I'd never seen before, accented the shadows.

Certainly, most delicious was her ass. I'd not really noticed before, but she'd obviously been sun bathing wearing a thong bikini, for there was a narrow, white band high across her hips and buttocks, with an inverted triangle of white ending in the top of her ass crack. Her cheeks were tan as were her back and hips. The small, untanned belt of white that ended as it dipped between her cheeks served to accent the saucy prominence of her butt.

"I hoped you were an ass man, Billy. I kinda like my own butt." Then, fishing for a compliment, she asked, "Do you like it? Do you think it's sexy?"

Then, marching in place, she pulled the tight shorts over her hips, wriggling to seat them properly before she jumped into the Scout, yelling, "Hey, dude! Let's get truckin'... let's haul ass!" She slid down in the seat, dissolving in gales of laugher at her own pun. "Haul ass... oh, I'm terrible." More laughter.

Jean's laughter is so infectious that I found myself laughing along with her, thinking, "Boy, this is fun and I'm not even sure what I'm laughing about."

Adjusting my own shorts, I settled again into the driver's seat. I checked her shorts and found that she'd buttoned only the lower buttons, leaving the soft curve of her belly uncovered.

Back on the road, still relatively deserted, we sat silently for a little while, making eye contact frequently and smiling. We both knew that there had occurred yet another major shift in our relationship and were content to let things unfold.

Swinging onto a larger and busier highway, now out of the mountains, I broke the silence this time and asked, "So, woman, what're you thinking this time?" reminding her of her own gambit.

"What'll you give me if I tell you?" she countered.

"Probably anything you want... but I ain't doin' the dishes for another week, no matter what you're thinkin'." Then I offered, "Twenty-five cents?"

"A quarter?! That's all my thoughts are worth to you? Twenty-five cents! Forget it."

"Okay, okay. A half-dollar then, but you've got to do my laundry for me when we get back."

"I'll clean your laundry," she threatened and then added, "Fifty cents and you do the laundry."

Grudgingly and with a little whine I capitulated, "Well-l-l, only if you hand me the panties you're wearing... to wash of course."

"You jerk! You know I'm not wearing any... I watched you watching me. But all right. I'll give you my dirty underpants, you... you pervert!"

Ignoring the insult, I said, "Well, let's get back to the topic."

"What topic?"

"Why, your butt. That's the topic. Remember?"

"Oh yeah. You were saying it's my best feature. Really think so?"

Diplomatically, I responded, "I like all of you, but... , " and then I paused, waiting for her recognition of my pun, "but".

With a teasing frown she asked, "What do you mean, but'? Or is that butt'?" accenting the tt' of butt.

"In your case, Sis, it's butt' or, if you will, ass, '" as I gave her my best Grouch Marx leer.

She continued to fish. "I can see why guys might like a girl's breasts, or her legs, because... well you know... but," and she laughed at herself, "but what's the big deal with a girl's behind?"

Looking up to the heavens for guidance, I shrugged and said, "Jean, I don't understand any of this sex-attraction stuff. I've given up trying to understand it. It's just there. I feel it. I experience it. That's all. I just accept that I'm a horny guy and I don't even try to understand it any more. I like your butt... No, I love your butt... your ass. I like to watch your hips roll and your cheeks move when you walk. I love the inverted heart shape of your ass when you bend over. I adore the bottoms of your ass checks when I see them below your short-shorts. I try to run the back of my hand across your bottom when I pass behind you, pretending it's accidental. The back of my hand is acutely aware of the soft dip between your cheeks."

Following such a strong start, I finished lamely with, "I don't know... I just like em... and it gets me horny."

A slight shift and lowering of her voice signaled a serious question. I listened intently. Actually, I'd come to listen to her with an intensity that was previously reserved for those times when I was talking.

"I've heard that some girls... er, some people do it that way... uh... in the... you know... back there. You ever done it that way, Billy?"

Ass fucking? Was my sister talking about ass fucking? I was thunderstruck.