MY SISTER JEAN
Chapter 13 -- Safety of the Telephone
I never imagined that she would do something so
blatantly provocative and sexual as placing her soiled
panties under my pillow. Oh, I knew what an emotional charge
her panties were and I supposed I thought she didn't. Yet,
it had all started with her panties. Our first steps of
this erotic journey were taken when I'd teased her about her
soiled underpants. We'd treated it in a lighthearted,
teasing way since, even when I thought to myself, "She has
no notion what a sexually provocative symbol her panties are
for me." And, not wanting to reveal too much, to become too
vulnerable, I never told her. I never confessed what a
gut-wrenching response her intimate apparel produced in me.
Or at least I didn't think I had. In fact, I was acutely
aware that the carelessness with which she had previously
shown with her soiled undergarments had changed. She no
longer carelessly left them in the bathroom as before. I
had been unable to get my daily pheromones fix in months. I
assumed she had a hamper in her room, but I'd made a promise
to myself that I wouldn't violate her privacy again. So
far, I'd been able to keep that promise.
Now, suddenly finding this silken thing under my
pillow, delicious memories and feelings came flooding back.
That she had called a few minutes before to tell me to look
under my pillow carried so many messages. Chief among those
was, 'Let's play, Billy.'
We'd recently given ourselves permission to be more
honest and open about our sexual feelings for each other
and, at the same time, admitting our fears, had agreed not
to have sex. 'God, what does that mean?' I wondered. 'Not
having sex.' Just what is 'not having sex' anyway? By my
lights, we'd 'had sex' several times. Oh, we hadn't done
the dirty deed, but if what we'd experienced wasn't having
sex, then what is? We'd been thrown together several times,
picked up and tossed about by forces whose strength awed us.
Each time that happened, we had withdrawn, shaken and dazed,
wondering, 'Where is this going?'
Touching the black silk of Jean's "unmentionables" I
was thrilled. She'd worn these. Recently. They'd been on
her body. On her butt. Between her legs! My resolves were
fading away. It's true, I thought, My dick has no
conscience.'
Flattening the crotch of her panties, I studied it.
They were slightly damp to the touch. On the periphery of
the damp spot was a faint whitish dry area. I'd seen that
before. Her essence, right there.
Looking closely, I found a few curly hairs. Yes!
Pubic hair! A thrill shot through me and another ratchet of
my madness slipped. I was teasing myself. Delighting
myself. This slow, measured -- even controlled unfolding of
a treasure -- heightened my arousal.
I kept for last the real prize, the scent. I was
already dizzy with desire and hard with my lust. Bringing
the panties to my face, I slowly inhaled, allowing her
intimate fragrance to titillate my olfactory senses. The
seductive power of her scent ripped through me, much like a
whiff of ammonia. I felt it climb up into my nose, seeming
to pass through some impossible route, directly into my
frontal cortex. I fell back, clutching her panties to my
nose, unthinking, a mass of jangling, unstable sexual
neurons, randomly discharging like some mad fireworks
display. I was gone. I never had a chance.
Then I opened the note. There was only one line. It
said: "I want to do it with you...on the phone."
I shoved my arms between my legs, humping against
myself as I curled up in a fetal ball. No question. I was
just gonna die!
A little while later -- seemed like days -- the phone
rang again. Almost in a stupor I answered, "Jean?"
She laughed and then in that breathy voice
characteristic of her excitement, she said, "You found them.
What do you think?"
"That I've died and gone to heaven. Besides that, I
can't think at all. What're you *doing* to me?"
"Remember we said we'd explore things with each other?"
"Sure. But we didn't."
"Well, I don't know about you, big boy, but I've been
afraid."
"Of me?" I asked.
"Partly that, I guess." She paused, and then added,
"But more of me."
Not attempting to *act* dumb, I said, "I don't
understand."
"I didn't suppose you would. We think differently, you
and me. I suppose it may be a 'girl thing' but anyway...to
be honest, you have some power over me..."
I interrupted, "I have power over YOU? Come ON Jean.
You're the one with the power. You should see me right now.
I'm almost twitching!"
"Good," she laughed. "But it's true. Feel however you
want, when you turn on the current, I'm a goner, so this is
the only way I feel safe relating to you. Sexually, I
mean."
"Phone sex? Jean, you mean we live in the same house,
right next to each other and we're...we're reduced to phone
sex?"
"Pretty kinky, huh? I thought you'd like it. It *is*
all right, isn't it, Billy?"
"Jean, if it were the only way I could talk with you,
I'd get off on your smoke signals! Actually, it *is* kinky
and you're right, it appeals to me. Safe, isn't it?"
"That's it! That's the point of it, brother mine.
Because I've been afraid of you and more, afraid of myself,
I've been inhibited, even withdrawn around you. I've been
afraid to tell you what I'm feeling and particularly afraid
of allowing myself to get turned on around you. This way, I
figure we can open up with each other, do anything we want
and no matter how crazy we feel, how crazy we get, we're
safe."
"Jean, you're so cerebral. You're so well thought out.
What're you gonna be, a college professor or somethin'?"
"I didn't leave my panties under your pillow and then
call you to talk about college, stud muffin. I want to know
this: Is it true that boys get really hot when they smell a
girl's...uh, underwear?"
I'd stripped for action -- whatever I thought that
might have been -- and was wearing only an old sleeveless
sweat shirt. I had wrapped her panties around my erect
cock; just the dusky head of my dick was poking out. "If
you could see me now, Jean, it'd answer that question."
"Tell me. Tell me, Billy!"
"Jean, you must know. When I first saw them there, I
became excited. Right away. Touching them, feeling them,
got me more turned on. But what nudged me over was the
smell of you. I don't know what that is, but it just jolts
me. Anyway, I'm lying here, horny and hard and I've wrapped
your panties around my hard-on. It's all I can do to resist
stroking myself and coming right now!"
"I *thought* you liked me...that you liked the smell of
me, but I wasn't sure. You know what it's like, don't you?
I mean, we get all sorts of messages...like it's dirty down
there...things like that. And I *know* it's not dirty, but
still..."
I didn't want to talk about "messages." I wanted to
get sexy with this woman, so I told her what I was thinking.
"Jean," I began -- I often addressed her by name when I
wanted to make a point -- "right now, in my mind, I have a
fantasy about you."
She whispered, "Oh, yes! Tell me."
"You're standing on my bed. I'm looking up at you. We
don't talk. I ask you with my eyes. You slowly pull up your
full skirt. First I can see your thighs. Then your
panties. Your legs are apart. You step over me and I'm
looking right up into you."
"God! I love the thought of you looking at
me...looking under my dress...at my panties. I'm *such* an
exhibitionist! Geez, I'm getting wet."
Slowly stroking myself, I close my eyes and let the
imagery flow, giving voice to the cine' in my head. "You
squat a little, right over my head, closer and closer. Then
you pull the crotch of your panties up into your pussy, into
your slit. I can see your pussy lips, Jean"
"Yes...yes...I can see it too. I've dreamed of doing
something like this...so slutty...I can't believe myself.
God, I'm getting hot!"
"I can see your pussy hair, Jean...the curls, the wet
curls . . . you're wet, Jean!"
"No, I'm SOAKING! It's running out of me."
"Pulling your panties back and forth through your pussy
slit, you slowly squat lower and lower. I can see the
stitching of your panties, you're so close. Now I can hear
you...smell you."
"Listen to this, Billy."
And then I could hear a wet, squishy sound. Jean was
masturbating and I guess, holding the phone by her crotch.
Farther away, I could hear her moaning. Then closer, she
added, "Can you hear that?" Do you know what that is?
That's me. That's how wet I am."
We were two trains running. Me with a monologue of my
imagery, she commenting on my words. Neither could be
derailed at this moment.
"You yank your panties aside and I can see into
you...right into your pink, swollen, wet cunt! You're
drooling. I can see pussy juice running back into the crack
of your ass...down your thigh."
"Ungh...I love it...I love it. I'm so loose, so
open... keep talking to me, Billy. Please, please...don't
stop."
"You spread your pussy lips apart and lower yourself
closer to me. All I can see is your pussy hair, your open
cunt...wet and swollen and open for me."
"Ungh...ungh...I'm gonna come, Billy. Gonna come..."
"Your legs are weakening. You're sinking lower. Your
pussy is right above my mouth. Your juice is dripping onto
my lips."
She had stopped talking. All I could hear was a
rhythmic grunting. "Ungh...ungh..." that I recognized at the
involuntary sounds Jean made approaching her orgasm. She
wasn't alone.
"I reach up with the tip of my tongue and run it up
through your slit. It's coated with your juices. I touch
your clit. You sink onto my mouth. I fuck my tongue into
your cunt...I smell your musty smell!"
Jeans' grunting ran into an explosive sound...then a
long breath followed by a protracted moan that tailed off to
a thin wail, "Come...coming, Billy...coming."
Then all I could hear was her breathing. I hadn't
come.
I was surprised. I was so excited and so hot. I
couldn't believe that I was still hanging there. Actually,
it wasn't the feeling of hanging at all. It was more like
drifting along on some sexual plateau of heightened
sensitivity, heightened awareness. I didn't feel frustrated
or unfulfilled. I just felt good.
I'd heard from Jean once that girls complained that
guys got their's and then just rolled off, leaving them
frustrated and not knowing how to ask for more. Well, I'm
so self-absorbed that I didn't want to be known as a
jackrabbit. I wanted to be viewed as the consummate lover.
(Never having even done it yet!) I'd started trying to hold
off my orgasm when I masturbated, to stretch it out. It
went from impossible to difficult at first. But I was
willing to practice. Every day! I was dedicated that way.
After awhile, I came to enjoy those sexual plateaus. At
times, I could extend them so long, I'd just slide back down
the other side without having come.
I just did it again.
"You there, Billy?"
"Boy, am I!"
"Whew. That was something! That was *more* than I
imagined it might be. It was wonderful. I LOVED it!"
A bit late, I asked, "What're you wearing, Jean?"
She laughed and said, "I thought that's what you asked
me at the *beginning*."
"I'm just wearing a sweat shirt."
"Me too! One of your old ones. But right now it's up
in my armpits. I'm holding my...myself. My fingers are all
wet. God, the smell in here. *You'd* love it!"
"You have panties there?" I asked.
"Uh, sure...oh, there they are. They're on the floor
where I threw them."
"Do me a favor?"
"God, anything." Then laughing, "Well, almost
anything."
"Use your panties. Wipe yourself. Wipe up your juices
with 'em . . . stuff em into your pussy. Then give them to
me tomorrow, okay?"
"God, you are *such* a horn dog, Billy!"
"Will you, Jean?"
"Of course I will. You must know it thrills me that
you want to smell me."
"That's not all that I want to do."
"Yeah, yeah. We both know about that. And so do I.
You know that too. But you also know how I feel about it.
As much as I want to do it with you, I'm not gonna. That's
why I'm here and you're there! I almost expect you to crawl
through the phone wire and come out through the receiver.
'Night, Billy. I love you."
"Good night, babes. Remember the panties!"