MY SISTER JEAN
Chapter 7 -- Jean's Backside
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 and asked, "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.
"Me? Me? You gotta be kiddin'...I've never done it
*any* way!"
Flustered, she spoke rapidly, correcting herself, "Oh,
I didn't mean...I didn't think you had...I mean...have you
ever *thought* about it...about doin' it that way, I mean?
Back there?"
She squirmed in her seat, not looking at me. Had she
looked, she might have noticed *my* squirming. Whenever
Jean hits my emotional bull's eye, I start to squirm, and
she'd hit this one straight center. Nailed, as it were. Sure
I'd thought about it...a lot...but I didn't think I *should*
be thinking about such stuff. (I was pushed around by
those "shoulds" a lot in my young life.)
"Uh...yeah...I've thought about it...I mean, I've
thought about a lot of things."
Uncharacteristically, Jean offered, "Me too. Tell me,
what did you think about...uh...when you thought about doing
it back there?"
Back in my court again. (Well, Billy, get honest.
She's making it easy for you...and *you* were the one trying
to get her to talk dirty'.)
"Gee, Sis...I don't know what to say...where to start...
but, yeah - I've thought about it ever since I saw one a
Dad's European dirty magazines. It had lots of pictures of
people doin' it...in the butt I mean. Since then, I've
thought about it a LOT."
"You have? I mean, you've actually *seen* pictures of
it? Wow! I've only heard about it...I've never seen a
picture of it. Can you show me? Gee, I'd give anything to
see some pictures."
Jean's enthusiasm once again put me at ease. I'd swung
from being hesitant about revealing one more kink and now
here she was, more open about it than I was...and now I was
swinging back to self revelation.
"I'll either find Dad's, or I'll get some from the
adult book store, Jean. Actually, I used to have a bunch,
but I traded them for the peeing magazines that you
discovered," and added with chagrin, "... in my most secret
hiding place."
"Oh, bitte, bitte, bitte," Jean singsonged her Germanic
entreaty.
Plunging in again, I asked, "Is *your* ass erotic,
Jean? I mean, have you ever touched yourself there...uh,
does it feel good if you do touch yourself?" (If I could
ever learn to finish as strongly as I start...)
Jean stared at me for a long moment. He pale blue eyes
glinted. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips,
wetting them and, as always, my eyes were drawn to her
mouth. Did she have any notion how erotic her mouth was? I
thought not. But this was not some affected look, not some
pretend stance. Jean's interest was intense and real and
right now.
Licking her lips a second time, she started slowly,
"When I was a kid - (and that could be any age less than
she was that day) - when I was a little girl, I got sick
and had a tummy ache. Mom decided I needed an (ugh)
enema."
" Phu-leeze, Mother. I don't need an enema,' I
cajoled." (She loved that word too.) "Well, you know
Mom. I was protesting all the way to the bathroom. God! I
thought I'd die of embarrassment. I knew no one was home
but me and Mom and I was still dying. But Mom showed me no
mercy. Over her knees, pajamas down and K-Y to the butt -
so fast I couldn't respond. Can you imagine that?" she
inquired as it were the most impossible image in the world.
My fertile - read dirty - mind didn't have any
difficulty at all in imagining that. "Yeah, Sis, I can
imagine that."
Not even pausing, she continued, "Mom slipped that hard
nozzle into my butt...burrr...it was cold...but you know, it
didn't hurt at all! I just knew it was going to hurt like
the dickens and it didn't hurt at all. That really
surprised me."
Now, for the first time since starting this story, she
grinned at me and went on, "No, what really surprised me was
that it...it felt good!"
And again she asked the rhetorical question, "Can you
imagine that? I couldn't. I mean, sticking something up
your butt...how could *that* feel good...but it did, Billy,
it did."
"I remember..." I started to say but she continued,
interrupting me. (Oh, now I get it. *She* wants to talk.)
"Then, before I could even switch mental tracks, Mom
started the warm water flowing. She had ran the hot water
tap in the bathroom until she got the temperature she wanted
and then filled that huge water bag. Then she added
something else from a bottle...I don't know what it
was...and that's what I got. I could feel the warmth
flowing through me. Mom must have done this when she was a
nurse, 'cuz every time I started to get a cramp, she seemed
to know it and clamped the tube. I'd rest a few moments,
and she'd start it again. I was embarrassed and frightened
and mad...all mixed in with the confusing feelings of liking
the warmth and the fullness. I didn't know what was going
on."
Jean took a big breath and then through pursed lips,
blew it out slowly, looking out the window for a moment. I
knew enough to keep quiet.
Turning back to me, she continued, now a little slower.
"I don't know how much she gave me - felt like gallons -
but it probably wasn't . . . anyway...when I was all filled
up I thought I was going to lose it and must have whimpered.
Mom said, 'Now hold it. Hold it in. I'm going to pull out
the tube and I want you to lie down on the rug for a
minute...just relax, okay?'"
"And I did...or at least, I didn't...you know, lose it
or anything. I'd forgotten how silly I must have looked,
lying on the floor with my pj's around my knees and my fanny
uncovered. All I could think of was how full I felt and
trying to keep myself clamped shut . . . so I
wouldn't...uh...dribble?" (She ended with her interrogative
inflection again.) "And behind all that, there was a funny,
sexy feeling."
The direction of this conversation was getting to me.
My dick was stiffening again. Just listening to Jean's
story of her enema had me hot. Thinking of her cute butt and
her rosebud asshole, filled with water...well...I *told* you
I was kinky!
She continued, "The need to have a B.M. got stronger
and stronger, Billy. I told Mom I was going to have an
accident if I couldn't go soon, so she let me get up and sit
on the toilet.
"Now, you must know that *no one* - since I was a baby
- had stayed in the room with me when I moved my bowels,
but I had to go so bad I probably wouldn't have stopped if
*you* had walked in." (As if I was the bathroom equivalent
of the Queen Mary cruising through.)
Running her hands up the inside of her thighs, she
opened and then closed her legs. She was clearly warming up
to this story.
She rushed on, "It was one of the most delicious
feelings in the world, Billy. Just letting myself go and
expelling all that water... whew...it was like pooping and
peeing and even coming...all at the same time.
"I'm sure I got all red in the face...from pleasure I
know now, but Mom asked, You okay?' I just couldn't tell
her how okay I really was!"
Now she laughed. "Don't think I'm a closet enema
freak, brother dear. I've only had a few in my life...but
maybe not as many as I'd like. Anyway, that was the time
when I realized that my behind was sensitive...I mean, like
erotic, you know?"
Sensing that she had touched on the main part of the
story, I spoke again and asked, "Well, I can see that it
excited you. Did you then start thinking of...butt
fuckin'?"
"Billy, most of the time I don't like that
word...fuck... or fucking...but when I'm talking with
you...it has a juicy edge to it and it's okay. And yes,
that's when I started thinking that if a enema tube felt
good, then a finger or even...it's hard to say - even a dick
would feel good...or even better."
"We're just alike...we're two peas in a pod, Sis. We
both like peeing and now we're finding out that we *both*
like anal things."
She looked at me, one eyebrow arched as if to say, "Oh,
is that right?"
Hurrying to explain, I added, "I haven't had an enema
or anything, but I've wondered about it." Then, not looking
at her, I went on, "Once I took Mom's enema nozzle - do you
think it was the same one she used on you? - I took her
nozzle and slipped into my own ass. I was sitting on the
toilet. I had just finished looking at one of Dad's dirty
magazine - I'd sneaked it out again - and I was wondering
how it would feel to me . . . having something up my butt.
So, I got the nozzle, put some K-Y on it and pushed it in my
behind...slowly. I don't know what it was . . . maybe just
the thought of it...but anyway...I got a boner right away. I
jacked off, and like always, I was thinking of you, Sis . .
. thinking of your ass while I was doin' it."
There! It was out. Now Jean knew her perverted kid
brother ass-fucked himself with a goddamn enema nozzle and
fantasized about her. My face felt warm and I couldn't look
at her.
"Oh, Billy...that's hot! That really gets me
wet...hearing what you did...and that you thought of me
while you were doin' it too. Wow! You are somethin'."
Emboldened again and ever pushing, I asked, "So, tell
me, my erotic sister...are we going to explore this new
wrinkle...anal sex...or what?"
I suppose it was idiotically tautological to add, " I'm
game. Are you?"
"God, who knows with you, Billy? Every time I think
I've gone just about as far as I'll ever go...with you or
anyone, you sorta nudge me along and before I know it, I'm
right in the middle of something I didn't plan on."
She placed her hand on my arm and added softly, "But
Billy, you *know* I not really going to do it with
*you*...still I'm open to talk about it with you."