Chapter 3

I’d like to say things were strained for the next three hours ... between Jill and me, as we cleaned the garage. I had popped my sister’s cherry good and proper, which was something I was sure she’d be all pissed off about. I didn’t think she’d see the irony in the fact that if I hadn’t popped her cherry, we’d have gotten caught by Mom. And, when you consider that she was so hot and bothered to get her goodies ... and then didn’t ... well, I think I was justified in assuming that terrible things would happen to me.

But all she did was talk.

She started off talking about the stuff we were moving around.

“What’s this?” she’d ask.

Usually I knew what it was. Dad had a lot of woodworking stuff, and auto mechanic stuff. He had all these hobbies that he got into and then let lay, and each of them left some group of stuff behind. Like there was this one thing that was a plastic box that had a little spindle sticking up out of it. There was a rim around the top about half an inch high, and it had an electric cord on it.

“What the heck is this?” asked Jill.

“That’s for stained glass,” I said. I was still nervous and might have babbled a little bit. “It’s got a diamond head on it - that little round thing there - and it spins and you can grind the edges of the glass to whatever shape you want. You have to put water in it, as a lubricant for the glass.” I’d seen Dad using it one time, while he was making a Tiffany lamp shade.

“How the heck do you know all this stuff?” she asked me, holding the thing like it might bite her.

“I dunno,” I responded. “I saw him use it once.”

“You’re not nearly as stupid as I thought you were,” said my sister conversationally. “Where should we put it?”

I ignored the barb, mostly because I wasn’t looking for trouble of any sort just then.

“His stained glass stuff is over in that cabinet, mostly,” I said, pointing.

She went over there and opened it up and started going through all sorts of stuff in there, saying, “What’s this?” about every thirty seconds. Some of it was easy. Some I just read the labels on and figured out. Some of it I didn’t know, and I made something up. I mean she wouldn’t know the difference, right? I really wasn’t looking for trouble and wanted her to stay in this remarkably good mood she was in.

Then we hit a bunch of his reloading stuff, and I explained that to her too. I had a sudden image of her wanting me to show her how to load up some bullets ... and then wanting me to show her how to load them in the gun ... and then ... revenge!

I suddenly realized she had changed the subject and was talking about a sale that was going to be on the next weekend at J.C. Penney’s and how she was thinking about getting a new swimsuit.

“My old one’s too small,” she said. “I’m thinking about getting a bikini. Do you think I’d look okay in a bikini?”

I didn’t say anything for a few seconds as I tried to figure out how we got from reloading to bikinis, and whether it was going from dangerous to more dangerous or not. I didn’t say anything for too long and she looked at me.

“Uh ... sure,” I said. I wasn’t doing my best here.

“Did you do it on purpose?” she asked out of the blue.

I had a pretty good idea what “it” she was talking about.

“No!” I gasped. “I swear Jill, it was an accident.”

“It hurt,” she said shortly. She was still looking at me. “A lot,” she added, like I might not understand. Her bloody shorts had pretty well convinced me that it had hurt.

“I’m really sorry,” I said, meaning it.

“I know,” she said, turning back around and neatening up all the reloading stuff, putting it all in one place.

“You do?” I asked. I was confused.

“Yeah, I could see it on your face,” she said, not looking at me.

I did what every red blooded male of the species should never ever do, but inevitably does anyway.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, saying what every red blooded girl of the species says sometimes when a man is sure she really does know.

And then she talked about other stuff. She started asking me if I remembered things that had happened in our past. Some of them were big fights we had, and she talked about how she’d felt during them, and how mad she was at me, and twice how she’d lied (which I knew) to get me in trouble.

You might be wondering what this has to do with anything, but I’m trying to explain how she was acting, because ... well I didn’t understand it ... and maybe you will. Or something.

And the other reason I’m telling you all this is because it explains why I was completely flummoxed when, about half an hour after our folks went to bed that night, while I was reading, she came into my room again.

Not only did she come into my room again, she came into my room and whipped off her night shirt and stalked over to the bed naked.

“I’m still horny,” she announced in a voice that wasn’t a whisper and wasn’t a normal voice. “You’re going to lie there like a good boy and not move,” she said. “And if you move I’m going to cut your balls off.” She looked grim. “Or something,” she added.

She whipped the sheet off of me, exposing my PJs, and then started trying to drag them down.

I didn’t move.

“Lift your hips,” she said, looking at me like I was simple-minded.

I decided that I could move if I had permission, so I lifted my hips. I was still holding my book.

Then she put that wonderful mouth of hers on my prick again and had me rock hard inside of a minute. All I could hear was slurping and swallowing, which sounded pretty loud to me. I have to admit that I darted my eyes toward the door a couple of times when she was extra loud. But I didn’t turn my head. No Sir, that would have been moving.

She stopped sucking me and almost tenderly laid my cock down on my stomach. Or tried to. It was so hard it stayed about two inches up in the air, kind of bobbing a little, like it was nodding it’s head. I stared at the slit in the tip, half expecting it to become a pair of lips and say, “Dont’ stop! I was having a good time. Come back!”

Then she climbed up on the bed and, looking down at my cock, she very gently let her pussy down on top of it, reaching with two fingers of one hand to spread her pussy lips, one on either side of it. She settled down, putting her hands on my chest and gave out a sigh that sounded just like Elvis Presley made in an old movie he made where he got shot at the top of the hill and rolled all the way down it somehow, singing two songs along the way, until when he finally got to the bottom he expired. That was when he gave out the sigh. He must have practiced that sigh for hours, because it had all the elements of a tortured soul, finally finding relief, and letting go of this life to embrace the next one and all that stuff. I mean it was a sigh!

I didn’t think Jill had practiced it, though, and coming from her lips it sure made me feel good.

She started sliding, and I laid still. I didn’t have to do anything for it to feel wonderful. She hadn’t put her hair up, and it was hanging down, kind of tickling her breasts or something. She leaned forward and dropped a nipple on my nose.

“Suck them,” she commanded. That’s not fair, really, because her voice didn’t have command in it. It was soft and, while not pleading, sounded like something other than an errant thought.

Having permission, I played with her nipples, kind of sucking and then spitting them out and licking them and I even bit one gently when it was moving so much I could barely get it in my mouth.

I was rewarded with, “Ohhhh Bobby, this feels soooo nice.”

Pretty good praise for a guy who was just lying there doing almost nothing, huh?

She started playing too, sliding all the way up to the head and grinding her pussy down onto it when it slipped up into her pussy mouth. She was riding her clitty on it, and she suddenly shuddered and went stiff. The noise she made was barely audible, and was a series of little “Huh ... huh ... huh” sounds as her hips started moving again, making little jerking motions. Then there was a long “Uhhhhhhhhh” as her hips kind of rotated in circles as she leaned forward and all of a sudden she lay down on my chest. Her hair got in my face and tickled so much I wanted to sneeze. I wanted to put my arms around her, but didn’t, so determined was I to make sure she had everything she wanted, and nothing she didn’t.

She bit my ear lobe! It hurt too!

Then she sat back up and started sliding again and whispering.

“That’s what I needed this morning.” she said, rocking. “But you shoved that horrible thing up in me.”

“I didn’t shove it...” I started to protest, “exactly,” I finished.

“You broke my cherry,” she said, sliding some more. “You snatched my treasure from me like some horrible pirate,” she added in a melodramatic rasp.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I said.

“I know,” she sighed, sliding all the way forward and getting the knob well up in her pussy mouth. “It doesn’t hurt so much now,” she said, rubbing in circles again.

“Did it really hurt that bad?” I asked. “Can I touch your breasts?” I was tired of being still.

“Yes,” she said, and I was left to wonder which question she was answering.

I gave myself the benefit of the doubt and put my hands on her breasts. They were amazing. I played with them, squeezing them and thumbing the nipples. They felt hard and rubbery and I pulled her down to suck them again, this time holding her sides so she couldn’t move quite so much and I could get a good lip lock on them.

“Mmmmm that feels soooo goood,” she purred, still rubbing.

It was quiet for a while as she rubbed. I was pretty content. I wasn’t as excited as I’d been before, and didn’t have the urge to cum. Well, that’s not exactly true. It was like I wanted to squirt a gallon, but it was okay if I didn’t. I knew that three or four strokes after she left would have me sobbing with joy, and that was okay, too. I really felt bad about hurting her and stealing her treasure.

“You know it did go in,” she panted a little. “In the garage I mean.”

What a strange thing to say. Of course it went in. It made her bleed! It was what ruined the whole event.

“It didn’t kill me,” she said, rubbing faster.

“I’m glad,” I said, wondering what was going on.

“Maybe it wouldn’t kill me if you put it in again.” she huffed.

I got another brick in the head with that one. She was suggesting that I actually fuck her!

“No,” I said, not ever wanting to see that look on her face again ... the one that screamed she was in pain. “It hurt, and you know it hurt. Why would you want to do that again?” I asked.

“Yes, it did hurt,” she said. I could tell she was getting close to falling over the edge again, both by her voice and her movements. We had only done this twice, but I could already read her body movements. It was kind of cool. “But there was something else too,” she gasped.

“What?” I asked.

“I can’t describe it,” she said. “It was a surprise...” she started jerking harder. “I didn’t have time to really figure it out.” She slid forward again and got my knob up against her clitty. She started giving those little jerks again, this time without freezing first.

“Ohhhh Bobbbyyyyyy,” she moaned. “I love you so much.”

Seeing her having an orgasm was just the coolest thing I think I’d ever seen. I wasn’t scared this time, or confused ... well not too much ... this “fuck me” thing had me pretty weirded out ... but anyway she just looked like she was having a heck of a good time and at least part of it was my doing. And right then I realized that I loved her too. It wasn’t just that she was doing this with me. It was that she was having fun and was happy, and I was part of it and that was a close kind of feeling that was more than just sex.

And she meant it too. I could tell. She had her eyes closed when she said it.

And all of a sudden I felt the overpowering urge to cum myself. I didn’t even have time to say anything. I just started spurting. I felt pressure, like something was closing off my prick and realized that the hole my jizz was trying to come out of was pressed against her pussy or something and it couldn’t get out very well. She moved a little and there was a flood of relief as pent up semen burst out of my prick, bathing her pussy in hot spunk.

“Oooo!” she squeaked, and ground harder. I wasn’t fucking her, but the head of my prick was filling up her pussy mouth and as she wiggled at least some of that spunk got shot up inside her. It wasn’t fucking, but it was the next best thing and I came hard.

It took a few slippery minutes, but she finally calmed down.

“You made a mess,” she chided. Then she scooted down and began sucking and lapping with her tongue, licking it all up and sucking it off my prick, which was, indeed, all messy with my ejaculate. She was making “Mmmmmm” sounds and it made me want to cum again, but I couldn’t.

You know how when you’ve had a really good meal sometimes you just want to sit there for a while when you’re done? It was a little like that. And then, like after that meal, sooner or later you have to get up and go somewhere, or go do something. She was like that. She played with my prick for a while, licking it and kissing it and doing everything but talking to it, and then she bounded off the bed and picked up her night shirt.

“That was much better,” she whispered, beaming at me.

She was almost out of the door when I whispered loudly, “Jill.”

She turned, still naked. I thought about reminding her to put on the shirt.

Instead I said, “I love you too.”

The next day was completely different than the one before. Jill was all happy and easy going when she got up and we had breakfast. Mom insisted that we at least eat breakfast as a family. It was a hard and fast rule.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” said our mother.

“I got more sleep last night.” lied Jill convincingly.

“I told you so dear.” said Mom.

“I know, Mom. Don’t rub it in,” said my sister. She darted her eyes towards me and I saw a flicker of a smile on her face as she teased me and dealt with mom at the same time. I swear she could beat a lie detector.

Jill spent the day over at Julie Zickafuss’s house and they did each other’s nails and braided each other’s hair and stuff like that. I found that out when she got back home and announced that she had a date that night with John Watkins.