We were dirt poor, as it was called then. There were many poor families in the Depression, and we were among the poorest. Our father did what he could: auto mechanic, home handyman, occasional logger, but we sometimes didn't have enough to eat - my twin sister, Carol and I. We were 15 and had not known any other way. We had always been poor, but happy.

At least as I look back on it now, I realize we were happy. We weren't comfortable and our daily lives were filled with the chores one must do when there is no central heat, no plumbing, and very little money to buy food. We lived in western Virginia, in the Blue Mountains. Carol did the cooking and house-cleaning. I chopped wood in the fall and winter, tried to stop the roof from leaking, slaughtered the chickens and the other man-chores around the house. We attended a one-room school that we walked to. We were the oldest in the class since our father was not a farmer. We had never been farther than our local town, Thompsonville, and that only on special occasions or on Sunday.

Our cabin was tiny, just three rooms - a main living/dining/kitchen with one wood stove and two bedrooms. Our father had a bedroom and Carol and I shared one. Back then this was acceptable, out of necessity. Boys and girls frequently shared a bedroom with several siblings. We had small beds not quite long enough for our lanky teenaged bodies, and we each had a homemade dresser. Our headboards butted in opposite directions so we couldn't see each other when lying down. We had no closet and hung coats and things on pegs along one wall. There was a window on the outside wall through which the virgin forest dominated the view.

I had reached puberty - that is, I had grown pubic hair - a little after my 14th birthday. My knowledge of sex was limited to barnyard observances. I had no idea how humans did it. I started masturbating in the spring following my 15th birthday. Our little cabin and tiny bedroom afforded little privacy so I got into the habit of waking up in the middle of the night, when I knew my sister would be asleep, to masturbate. It was impossible, what with the rusty springs and wooden floor, to be entirely silent about it but I tried. Having to go slowly and the fear of being caught heightened the experience and I did it almost nightly.

One night as I was almost silently stroking and ready to come, I thought I heard an unusual sound from in back of me. I froze immediately and waited. And waited. The sound did not recur and my cock was ready to burst, so I gave it some quick strokes and shot a very large load all over my pajamas. There it was, that sound again! I couldn't place it but it almost sounded like water, like the creek in the hollow, like a slurping sound.

A few nights later, as I was stroking away in the middle of the night, I heard the sound. I froze, but - being bolder now - started up again soon. This time the sound was louder and I didn't stop and the sound didn't stop. This went on for a few weeks. I supposed she was masturbating, but - remember this was the Thirties and before widely available pornography - I didn't know how girls masturbated. The possibility that she was doing to herself something like what I was doing was extremely exciting for me and I looked forward to hearing her. We each tried to be quiet but I think each of us knew that the other knew.

Sharing a bedroom meant that, no matter how carefully we planned it, accidents of overly exposed skin happened all too frequently. I had seen my sister's naked body often enough to watch it change. Her hips widened, her nipples and then her breasts swelled, and although I saw it less frequently, she started growing hair in the V where her legs met. She had seen me naked also and we had both been secretly curious about each other's bodies. Lately though, I noticed Carol trying harder than normal to catch me. Once I saw her watching me bathe in the creek.

One morning I awoke sleepily and in desperate need of a good long piss. As I stumbled to the door my erect cock slipped out of the slit in the front of my pajamas. I heard a gasp from her and quickly tucked it back in. That night I masturbated twice while remembering that gasp. Both times I heard the slurping again.

Partly due to my nightly pleasure sessions I was, and still am, a light sleeper. One night I awoke gently to hear the floor creeping. I opened my eyes just barely to see my sister, in her pajamas, oh- so-slowly and gingerly tiptoeing toward my bed. She was looking at my crotch, and seeing my erection bobbing out of my pajamas. I pretended to be asleep as she crept closer. I was scared, to tell you the truth. What was happening was new, taboo, and exciting. She knelt down next to my bed and watched it for the longest time. Needless to say this was very stimulating to me and my cock bobbed for attention. After a while, she crept back to her bed and I heard the slurping sound again.

This continued for some time, this nightly inspection at attention and became the fantasy I thought of when masturbating. One night I just got so turned on by exposing myself to her that I had to touch myself. I figured I had to pretend I was doing it in my sleep and almost casually jerked my hand across my cock. I saw Carol jump but she dared not move suddenly or the floor would make a definite and loud noise. I decided that the most I could do was one more brush of my hand over my hard-on. This time I squeezed it between two fingers as my hand went over it. In spite of herself, she gasped.

Well, this was getting interesting. Carol didn't show up at my bedside for several nights and I was disappointed. I thought I had scared her away. One night I became aware of her presence and, still pretending sleep, stroked my cock casually several times. She stayed. After a little while, I stroked it several more times, then waited, then several more times. All the while my movements were slow and awkward enough so that I could claim sleep if questioned. Well, this situation and slow stroking was getting to me and, without trying, I came. Carol audibly groaned. I was embarrassed and stayed quite still for the rest of the night. I vowed never to do that again.

A few nights later I became aware of my sister beside me. My cock was hard and peeking through my pajamas, as usual. I determined not to stroke myself and Carol stayed for a very long time waiting for me to do so. Suddenly but gently I felt her fingers on my cock. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know anything could feel so good. Her touch was light and yet at just the right spot. Her hand wasn't moving but it didn't need to. I couldn't help myself and came spontaneously. My jism went all over her hand. She gently took her hand away and wiped it on her pajamas.

As I thought back on it later, that night marked a turning point in our relationship. Always friendly and cooperative, we now treated each other with some warmth and tenderness. Carol was much freer with showing me her body now and made no pretense of modesty. We undressed in front of each other, if it didn't seem too forced to do so, and swam naked together in the creek. However, months had gone by and she had not visited my bedside. I was disappointed and desperately clung to every instant of the last time she did. It was my constant masturbation fantasy.

One night I heard her masturbating and decided to see just exactly what she was doing. It was a moonless night so the room was almost pitch black. I carefully lifted myself from my bed and started to cross the room, stepping only where I knew the boards did not creak. She must have heard me anyway because she suddenly stopped. I froze. After what seemed like an eternity she started again. I could see movement, but couldn't make out exactly what was moving. I stepped closer, the floorboard made a sound, but Carol did not stop this time.

Finally, I was within three feet of her bed and sat down. My cock was absolutely rigid and ready to burst from the tension of the scene. I could barely make out my sister's arm across her waist and her hand in her crotch. It was moving up and down and making quite a slurping sound now. Carol was moaning and quietly grunting. Well, this was too much and I carefully lowered myself so I was flat on my back on the floor and began to stroke myself. I could tell she was going to come soon and so was I. I decided to time myself so that we came together. When we did, we dropped all pretense of being quiet and grunted quite audibly. Hers lasted longer than mine. I lay there for quite awhile and then snuck back to bed.