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Marie (m/f, f/f, cons/nc, ins), Part 3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
MARIE
CHAPTER THREE
I saw Marty a couple of more times in the next few weeks and
we tried all sorts of things when we could. I somehow got the
feeling Phil suspected what was going on, but he didn't say
anything to me and if he said anything to Marty, Marty didn't tell
me.
Then my phantom step-brother came to visit for a week or so. I
purposely bought a new two-piece suit in a size that fit my waist.
In other words, it was far too small for my bust. Then I made sure
I was sunning myself on the picnic table out behind the kitchen
window when he came in from the airport. He didn't even recognize
me at first. Then he just shook his head and looked away from the
window, the one that looks out on the back yard. He was, let's see,
fifteen then, and damn! what a fox! But he always behaved properly
toward me -- I could tell he was a little uncomfortable -- and
nothing happened, no matter how much I tried to provoke it. And I
tried.
But my best friend, Lisa, got a terrible crush on him and the
way he dealt with it was so sweet! He treated her like a regular
grownup person, not like an eleven-year-old with a crush, and very
gently steered her away. Hahaha! I remember when she gave him a
present -- a bag of potato chips. He accepted it and thanked her
for her thoughtfulness and she jumped up and gave him a little kiss
on the cheek and ran away. He sat there, blushing like mad, and
just opened the bag and offered some to me. I was laughing at Lisa
and he demanded that I stop.
"Oh, Dan, she's just got a terrible crush on you! It's puppy
love!"
He looked me right in the eye and told me he thought she was
sweet, pretty and nice and then he said: "Besides, Marie, do
puppies hurt less than grown dogs?"
I stopped laughing.
And that was the thing about him: He understood things you
already knew, and he could remind you of them.
Anyhow, by the time Labor Day rolled around -- the last
weekend of summer -- Marty and I were on the splits. All there'd
ever really been between us was sex and I'd figured out he wasn't
the only boy I could get. He was nice enough, but he was, well --
dull. My eleventh birthday came and went in August.
The problem was that I loved sex and I'd gotten used to
getting it pretty much when I wanted it. And I was horny as hell.
On the Friday night of Labor Day weekend, Alexis -- my sister;
she's almost five years older than me -- was out on a date and Mom
and Dad had taken my two baby brothers with them out to Genoa, to
Uncle Van's, to watch the fireworks show. I knew they'd be late
getting back, so I decided to treat myself to a hot bath and little
Yellow Pages fun --
[That's what I called masturbating. You know: "Let your
fingers do the walking"?]
The only other one in the house was my younger sister, Jeanne.
Jeanne was exactly eleven months younger then me and she was a
beauty. She was less like me than like Alexis -- who's a natural
plantinum blonde with a peaches-and-cream complexion and ripe red
lips. Jeanne was sandy blonde and already had this lovely face and
long legs. My phantom step-brother used to call her the fawn,
because she was so lithe and graceful.
[Right, I was sort of the missing link. Grandma used to say
there'd been a nigger in the woodpile where I was concerned,
because I was so swarthy and built completely different. I found
out years later that there was a reason I was different, but
Grandma had been way off the mark...]
Anyhow.
I had drawn a hot, hot bath and filled it with bubble bath,
this stuff I'd gotten for my birthday from some cousin or other.
I lay in the tub and spent some time just savoring the heat of the
water and the scent of the bubble bath and then started fooling
around. Pretty soon, I was all worked up. My fingers weren't just
walking; they were dancing and diving. I was rubbing my clitoris
like I wanted to rub it right off and when I came I made some kind
of noise and sloshed water, because Jeanne banged on the door and
asked was I okay.
I told her I was okay and she kept wanting to know what I was
doing. Really spoiled it for me. So I got out of the bath and
toweled off and opened the door and stood there naked in front of
my little sister. Jeanne was just wearing a tee-shirt and panties
and she looked so pretty...
"Something private," I said and took my towel down the hall to
my room, still naked.
She followed me.
"I know what you were doing."
"What?"
"Playing with yourself."
From down the hall, I heard the last of the water sucked down
the tub drain.
"That's right, Jeanne." I started to turn away, then changed
my mind. "How did you know?"
"I know you've been doing it for a while, now."
"Do you do it?"
She blushed just a little and shrugged and nodded. "I guess
so."
I noticed that beneath her loose tee-shirt, the little nubs of
her nipples were hardening. "What do you think about when you do
it?"
"...stuff."
"What stuff?"
"Just ... stuff." She was obviously uncomfortable with this.
So I pursued it.
[Yes, I was being a bitch.]
"What do you think about?" she demanded.
"Doing it with boys."
"Doing wha -- you mean, IT?"
I nodded. "And I like it."
"You've done it with a boy? When? Who? Did it hurt? Did you
like it? What did he do?"
"For one thing, he never made me stand around all wet." I
started to dry myself. She was watching.
"Did they grab your boobs?"
"Sometimes, but I made them stop if they hurt me."
"Did you like it?"
"It can be very nice."
"I wish I had nice boobs like you." She was watching them
bounce and move as I dried myself.
"It's not so much the boobs as the nipples, Jeanne." I stood
and looked down at my breasts, then reached up with one hand and
rubbed the stiff nodule of one nipple. It swelled even more. I
pinched it gently and couldn't help sighing with pleasure.
"Definitely, the nipples," I said. I looked up at her. "You don't
have to have big boobs to enjoy having your nipples kissed and
licked ... and sucked."
"But if you don't have boobs, they don't pay much attention to
you above the waist."
"Too bad they don't, isn't it? It's really nice ... " I rubbed
the pad of my forefinger across the other nipple. "Try it," I said.
She misunderstood.
My baby sister -- not little, cause she was about three inches
taller than me -- reached out and brushed her fingers across my
nipple. She caught me by surprise and so did the sensation of
having someone else touch me like that. In particular, having a
woman touch me like that. My sister, even.
The tingle that went through me was intense; I was afraid I
was going to have an orgasm -- bang, just like that. As it was, my
knees got a little weak.
"You mean like that?"
I nodded. "Or like this -- " I reached out and lightly caught
one of those little pencil-eraser-size bumps under her tee-shirt
and squeezed it, oh, just ever so lightly, between my thumb and
forefinger. Her eyes half-closed and her lips, those lush, pouty
young lips, parted slightly. I dropped the towel. Without releasing
her nipple, I did the same with the other nipple and stepped closer
to her, carefully twisting the swollen little buds. Her breath was
shallow, but hot and sweet on my face. Her lips looked so sweet, I
just had to --
So I kissed her, right on the mouth, kissed her the way I
liked to be kissed and apparently, our genes ran true. She gasped
and kissed me back and after a few moments our tongues met. She
brought her hands up and began caressing and feeling my breasts. I
raised her tee-shirt and found her tits had just begun the
slightest of swellings around the prominent nozzles of her nipples.
I licked her little mounds and then lavished my tongue on her
nipples. Her knees kept buckling.
I led her to the bed and pulled her tee-shirt off. "I'm going
to show you how nice it can be, sweet Jeanne." She lay back readily
and I bent over her, licking and kissing her nipples, her budding
breasts, her throat and her mouth. She kept running her hands all
over me, but never quite touched the place that most craved
touching.
It wasn't long before we were laying side-by-side on my bed,
kissing and caressing each other passionately. Finally, when I was
on top of her, I leaned to one side and put my hand between us, on
the mound within her wet panties. I rubbed my fingers carefully
around her pudgy little cunt and she started bucking her hips up
toward me. I pulled her sodden panties down, exposing her fledgling
pussy in all its perfect, hairless loveliness and then I rolled to
poise on all fours over her.
"I am going to make you feel wonderful now," I said. "Okay?"
Her eyes were closed in her flushed face and she merely nodded
and moaned. Then I twisted on the bed and began lapping at my
sister.
Yes, I ate her. I loved it. Not just the sweet, fresh taste of
her juices or the slick feel of her naked pussy under my lips and
tongue. That wasn't all of it. For one thing, I loved the way she
kept moaning and moving with pleasure beneath me. For another, I
was getting the chance to lick her in exactly the way I'd wanted to
be licked, as I'd tried -- and failed -- to train Marty to lick me.
Best of all, it was like telling the world, "Fuck you! This is how
sweet and good and beautiful it is at heart -- not the dirty,
secret hurtful thing you make it out to be!"
She came in long, gentle, rolling waves of pleasure, all
clenched and slippery and writhing. She was so beautiful in her
innocent passion!
Finally, I lay back with my face wet with her juices. I
stretched out next to her and pulled her face to me. She hesitated
-- and then we tongue-kissed again. Her mouth was soft and sweet
and seeking and she seemed determined to lick all of her own
secretions of my mouth. She sat up and over and began kissing my
breasts, pausing the suck my nipples, and kissed her way down,
down, down over my flat belly and down to my thighs. She kissed the
insides of my thighs for a long time and then --
And then she began licking me. As soon as her tongue touched
my cunt lips, I began cumming and when she located and locked in on
the fervent bud of my clitoris, the sensation was exquisite. My
cunt clenched wildly. I reached out and pulled her over me, so her
legs were astraddle my head, and then I pulled her precious little
cunt into my mouth and we began sixty-nining. I begged her to put
her finger in me and she complied hesitantly -- until she
comprehended my response; then she worked that finger around and
around happily, setting off explosions within me like firecrackers
on Chinese New Year.
I didn't even think about what I did next until I was almost
doing it -- and then it was her response that gave me pause. I had
one finger poised at the clamshell-tight lips of her cunt above me,
about to probe within when she tensed. I remembered how it had hurt
me the first time; I didn't want to do that to my baby sister --
hurt her, I mean. So I merely traced my finger around her swollen
cunt lips while my worked busily at her clit.
But after a time -- a minute? Five minutes? I dunno -- she
raised her head and wailed, "Dammit, Mar, stop teasing me! Put it
inside!"
Whatever you want, baby sister.
I slipped it in carefully, to the first joint, always ready to
stop and withdraw at the first resistance of hymen.
But my fingers slid all the way into that unbelievably tight
little cunt, right to the base, and when my sister came this time,
she was like a madwoman -- and she vented it all on my cunt.
The two of us bucked and arched and came, over and over again.
When we could finally stop, I pulled her up to me and we lay in
each other's arms, panting and kissing and hugging and still
tingling.
When I could speak, I told her, "I was afraid to put my finger
in. The first time usually hurts."
"I know," she said simply.
I opened my eyes wide and stared at her. Her eyes wee wide and
clear and knowing, inches from mine.
She said nothing. After a moment, I understood -- as she'd
known I would. We had something else in common. We held each other
tightly for a long time, quietly comforting and bonded in a shared
experience.
[No, I don't want to talk about that. Not now.]
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