MY SISTER JEAN
Chapter 9 -- Jean's Surrender
"Billy, would you like a tall glass of ice-cold
lemonade?" Jean gasped, leaning against the front door of
our home. The bicycle ride back up the hill from "the flat
lands" in mid day was markedly harder and hotter than the
downhill ride that cool, early morning. Each, unwilling to
be second best in our sibling rivalry, had pushed and pushed
on the way home. We'd arrived totally winded and drenched.
"Jean, babes (that was a secret term of endearment we
had for each other), that sounds wonderful...it just might
save my life...but let me serve you. You look beat and
after all, you're just a girl!" (I'll blame heat-stroke on
such a risky jibe.)
In a sugary-sweet tone she replied, "Oh, no-no...I'll
get it sweet brother. After all, you did win." And then in
a slightly more ominous voice, "I owe you!"
Oh shit, I thought...owe me what? But I was too winded
to argue or even attempt to be clever. Sinking into a deck
chair I waved imperiously to her and said in my most
superior voice, "While your up, won't you get me a
Grants...uh...I mean a lemonade?"
Looking out over the valley in front of me, I again
enjoyed that we lived in such a stunningly beautiful place
- a relatively isolated country spot but just fifteen
minutes' drive to the University. I was feeling smug and
very excited, for I was again reviewing the mind-boggling
experience of my sister Jean modeling some thong-style
panties for me just an hour ago. The image of her firm and
curvy butt was etched in my forebrain. I was still buzzing,
for she'd intimated that she would model them again for me.
Hearing Jean's step behind me, I held up my hand for
the anticipated glass of ice-cold lemonade. My erotic
reverie was shattered by the chilling shock of ice cubes and
lemonade dumped down my shirt front.
"Just a girl, huh!"
With a shriek, I bolted out of the deck chair, ice
cubes falling out of my clothes and clattering on the deck.
Momentarily frozen immobile, I stood there, bent over, arms
away from my sides, just shivering from the icy shock.
Peals of her laughter pulled my head around to watch Jean,
empty glass in hand, holding her side in mirth.
"Oh, Billy, you look like a drowned rat...what'sa
matter... your little thingie all cold?"
It *was* funny and yes, my "thingie" was cold.
Recalling those mornings of skinny dipping with Jean...the
mad dash into the frigid waters of Fourth of July Lake when
my penis tried to crawl back into my belly, I had a mental
picture of how I looked. I just gave up any hope of
maintaining my dignity.
Fishing a last ice cube from my shirt, I gently tossed
it to Jean and said, "You look much too comfortable. Two
can play this game you know."
We'd been together so long we both knew what was going
to happen. Jean wouldn't have stayed around laughing at me
had she not expected, even welcomed, my anticipated
retaliation. There was an almost languorous pace to this
game that had an edge of excitement, for I didn't really
know how deep it was...where we were going with it.
I thought of how close we'd grown in the last months.
How we'd come to share our truth about ourselves, about our
sexuality and our mutual horniness. There was no more games
about *that*. But what was yet uncertain was our physical
involvement. Oh, I knew deep down that I wanted to jump her
bones...to ravish my beautiful sister. I was in lust with
her, but those years of cultural conditioning straddled any
erotic path we might explore, standing as a repressive
centurion who might have worn a Gothic signboard
proclaiming, "Thou shalt not."
Jean had already told me that as much as she loved me
and was attracted to me...even sexually...she remained
totally uncertain and apprehensive about *us* fooling
around. "Billy," she had reminded me several times, "you're
my brother and that's incest. I can't do that. Know what I
mean?"
I did know and I didn't think she really meant it.
We'd skirted around this topic enough times that I'd come to
believe that she was just saying what she was *supposed* to
say...that deeper within her dwelled the same fascination
that gripped me.
I knew she wanted to play. We just had to work out the
rules... but without talking about it. Our play occurred by
multiple approximations...a type of relationship Braille.
So I wasn't surprised when she turned and ran inside,
shouting over her shoulder in her mocking, sing-song voice,
"Naa-naa, na-naa-naa!"
I didn't hurry; I knew where she'd be. Walking
upstairs and past my room, I turned the knob of the closed
door to Jean's room. She was standing in front of her
full-length mirror, arms crossed in front of her and elbows
up as she paused, pulling off her shirt. From the door I
could see the contrast of her white bra strap against her
tanned back and in the mirror's reflected image, the bottom
of the bra's cups pulled up, partially uncovering the under
swell of her breasts. The afternoon sun slanted through the
gauzy drapes, casting a soft pattern of muted colors in the
room, accenting the shadows of her body.
Suddenly, it was very quiet. I could see her eyes looking
between her crossed arms as she stood frozen. There was no
alarm, just a calm expectancy that silently asked, "What
now?"
"Don't move!" I whispered with a quiet assurance that
surprised me. "Just stay that way."
The side of her shorts was undone and partially open.
I could see a flash of her panties as I walked up behind
her. Then, looking into her eyes, I said softly, "Let me."
She nodded. I'm not sure either of us knew just what
it was that she was going to allow me to do. I gently
pulled the shirt from her hands and finished tugging it over
her head, briefly hung up in her pony tail.
Still looking at me, she dropped her hands to her sides
and stood passively as I examined her...both the real and
the reflected images in the soft yellow light one sees just
before a rain storm.
"You have beautiful breasts, Jean."
She smiled and made no comment, even as I unhooked her
bra. Loosened, the cups fell an inch, just exposing the pink
areolae and nipples. As I pulled the straps off her
shoulders, I watched the crinkling of her areolae as the
nipples hardened. I slid a hand under her arm and cupped a
breast, catching her nipple between my thumb and index
finger, rolling it. Her breast was heavy in my hand.
She shuddered and whispered in a barely discernable
voice, "I can feel that down there."
Pulling off my damp shirt, I hugged her from behind,
holding both of her heavy tits in my palms and looking into
her eyes. "Down there?" I asked.
"Oh, God, yessss."
My vision narrowed to our reflection. In the blurred
half-light, half-shadow, I saw Jean, breasts bared and held
by my hands. I was watching someone else...part of me was a
voyeur in a sepia vision. I knew this was uncharted waters
for us. We'd watched each other masturbate on a very few
occasions and we'd confessed our horniness to each other,
but I'd never held her in my arms. It had mostly been
near-arms'-length encounters.
I could feel her buttocks pushing back against me. My
hard-on was pushing into her butt as I slid my hands down
over her stomach and under the elastic of her panties. My
entire awareness was centered in the gentle curve of her
belly. The tips of my fingers were brushing the top edge of
her public hair and on each downward caress, I cupped more
of her mons.
"Ohhhhh...that's so..." and she didn't finish. Her
head rolled back and rested on my shoulder. Her eyes
fluttered closed. The room was quiet except for our
breathing. Nothing was said. She had surrendered.
Searching with the fingers of my right hand, I found
her slit, wet and pulpy. I'd slipped my fingers into her
pussy only once before, the day on the trail out of Fourth
of July Lake. Now I was there again and half out of my mind
with excitement and desire.
I slid down her body and kneeling behind her, I beheld
her back and hips and buttocks. Through the almost
transparent panties, I looked at the deep shadow between the
cheeks of her ass. Slowly hooking my fingers in the elastic
of the waistband, I pulled her panties down over her
buttocks, and off her hips to her ankles. She lifted one,
then the other leg as she stepped out of her damp
underpants. I looked at them a moment and then held them to
my nose, taking in her odor...the sweat and the musk. The
power of it shook me.
Then, holding her hips in my hands, I looked at her
ass. I'd been admiring her butt forever it seemed. I'd
been brushing up against her every chance I could, letting
my hand fall from her waist to her buttocks, trailing my
fingers across her back side. Jean knew how I adored her
ass. I suspect it pleased her to be adored even though she
pretended it was "no big deal."
There was a gap between her thighs right below her
pussy and I could see the soft hair of her cunt between her
legs. I traced a pattern up from the inside of her knee to
a velvet inner thigh, pausing for a moment to say, "Open
your legs for me, Jean."
For a long moment, perhaps thirty or forty seconds, she
didn't move. And then she moved one foot away from the other
by no more than an inch or two...but it was enough. One
millimeter would have been enough. At this point, her
surrender need be no more than symbolic to be real.
"I loved it when you flashed your ass at me today in
the store."
Her only reply was a momentary tensing of the muscles
of her buttocks.
"Do it again, won't you?"
"Flash you?" she asked.
"Yes, bend over for me...way over...show me yourself.
Show me your secret places...now."
She slid her hands up her thighs and lightly cupping
the under curve of her ass, she slowly bent over. In the
half light, most of her bottom was in shadow, but the
posture of giving, of showing, was so erotic I could only
stare. Speechless.
"Let me look at you," she asked.
I was surprised. I had no idea she'd want to look at
my body. "N- naked?" I almost stuttered.
"Of course," she answered, still bent over.
Of course, I thought. What else? "All right. Sit in
that chair. We can watch each other."
Jean sat, bringing one heel up to the edge of the
chair, opening her crotch to my gaze and said again, "Let me
look at you."
I looked down and smiled, for the front of my shorts
were bulged out. My cock hurt from the hardness and being
trapped, bent in my pants. Wanting to draw this out...the
sibling equivalent of a strip tease, I slowly unbuttoned the
cut-off 501's, exposing my pubic hair. I'd neglected to
wear underwear that day...a rare thing on those days when
I'm riding my bike.
With a soft chuckle she asked, "Can you get them off,
Billy?"
My answer was to slowly push down the shorts, bending
my cock until it sprang free, snapping against my belly.
"Oh!" she gasped as her hand slipped between her
thighs, driven by some unconscious need.
Turning obliquely away from her, I grasped my cock in
my fist, sliding it up and down slowly, moving the soft skin
over the hard shaft.
"Yessss...show me Billy. Show me how you masturbate.
I know you do it all the time, don't you? What do you think
of when you do it? Do you ever think of me?"
I recognized the change in her voice. She was running
on...a stream of conscience...as she traced a finger through
the wet, soft lips of her pussy. We'd been here
before...that place where we gave ourselves to the moment.
Turned on by the moment, the voice, the images.
Stepping closer to her, stroking my impossibly hard
cock, I stood straddle-legged and said something like, "I
think of nothing else. All I can see is your legs, your
breasts, your ass...all I can remember is jacking off with
you, seeing your naked body at the lake, watching you
pee...watching you touch yourself. I beat off every day,
often twice, thinking of you. I think I'm obsessed with
you."
I fell silent for a moment, still slowly stroking my
cock. The wet noises of her fingers in her pussy suddenly
sounded loud. The musky odor of her pussy rose to fill my
nose. It was heady. I was drunk with lust and the desire
to fall between her legs...to taste her.
"What do you want to do, Billy? I mean right
now...what can we do. I want you so much I hurt...but we
*can't* do it...you know we can't. What can we do?"
We'd lost our eye contact. When I glanced up from her
open pussy, I saw her leaning forward, eyes hooded, mouth a
little open, staring at my cock as I continued to fist it's
full length. She wet her lips and stared. Then, all I could
see was her lips.
Another step forward and I was pushing my knees between
hers. Slowly I hunched my hips toward her and the head of my
cock touched her wet lips. She glanced at me. I nodded.
Her lips opened and her mouth sank slowly over my
prick.
"Ouch...no teeth! Just your lips and your
tongue...that's it. Now let it slide in as far as you
can...breathe through you nose...yesss, just like that!"
Her hands slid up and cupped my balls for a moment and
then pushed my hand away. She slowly stroked the base of my
cock as she ran her tongue over the head and underside of my
shaft. My knees grew weaker. I felt faint. Watching her
masturbate my cock with her delicate hand, watching her lips
form an "O" around the head of my cock, her cheeks pulled in
with the suction...I couldn't last. I didn't want to last.
I couldn't think of anything. My entire waking
awareness was narrowed down to my sister's mouth on my cock.
It probably lasted thirty seconds...perhaps less...yet it
seemed to go on and on.
"Gonna' come, Jean...can't hold it...JEAN...here it
comes!"
Now, in retrospect, I don't know if I were warning her
so she could get away or, more likely, that she might enjoy
it the more. In any case, she never slowed. She
masturbated me through spurts of my hot come, holding my
cock right inside her lips, stroking my shaft with her hand.
"The better to taste you," she explained to me later.
I wasn't aware that I'd slipped to my knees. I had a
gray out and came to kneeling between her legs, my face
resting on her thigh. Jean bent down and held my shoulders,
hugging me, murmuring, "Oh Billy... Billy...Billy...that was
so nice...that was beautiful... thank you, thank you."