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True Confessions #5 - Sweet Dream?
True Confessions #5 - Sweet Dream?
More often than not, and feel free to disagree, the best sex is when it’s not expected, or even planned. And, as in my last tale, the best shows are those that are likewise unexpected. Combining both experiences, well, that’s just plain bliss! My first encounter was with my older sister. (No, she’s not the MILF who took my virginity! That happened much later, and it too was totally spontaneous.)
I call it an “encounter” because it was the first time I had a sexual experience that wasn’t a heavy-breathing self-satisfaction thing under my bedspread while my brother snored in the rack above me. This encounter, though, was a form of masturbation, I suppose, and as far as I know, Katherine may to this day (some 30 years later) think that it was only just a dream… that is if she even still thinks about it once in awhile. Hell, I hadn’t thought about it in quite a long time, and it was only after starting my “T.C.“ series that I happened to remember that particular night. (Oh what a night… late December back in ’69!)
It was during the Christmas break. Dad, too, was on vacation, and he had taken Margaret and Pete with him to visit Granny and the rest of his country kin for a few days up in Rimersburg. (Mom wasn’t real fond of her mother-in-law, and Katherine and I really didn’t like the old bag much either.) Mom, being the dedicated storm-trooper that she was, wasn’t going to let a little snow keep her from being the dedicated charge nurse on the midnight shift that night. So, once again, it was just me and Katherine to hold down the fort. By then I had pretty much gotten my curiosity out of my system. I had a girlfriend at Wylandville Elementary School, dontchaknow! Katherine, was still a typical older sister bitch, and I discovered later that night that she had been keeping her own little secret from the adoring parental units.
We had only one phone back then, a wall-mounted rotary dial in the kitchen. (Burnt orange. Mom thought it nicely matched the wallpaper and harvest gold appliances.) I never was a very sound sleeper, none of were, really, so when the phone rang at 4AM (or thereabouts), I was quick to run downstairs to answer it. It was Mom, and she wanted to talk to Katherine.
“Okay,” I said. “She’s sleeping.” (I can just imagine what Mom was thinking… “No shit Sherlock!”
I tried to wake Katherine, even shook her a few times, but she just laid there. Calling her name was met with only a slightly audible moan. I got back on the phone and reported my findings, figuring that Mom would only tell me to keep trying. Instead, she just told me what she had wanted to tell my sister: that the hospital was snowed in and that she would probably end up working a double. “Okay. Good night, Mommy,“ I said, then gulped a mouthful of milk from the half-gallon paper carton in the refrigerator before heading back upstairs. Standing outside my bedroom, it dawned on me that there was something odd about Katherine. I never knew her to be such a sound sleeper, and that smell… what was that?
I really wasn’t thinking any nasty thoughts when I went back into her room, but it didn’t take long once I got near her for those summertime urges to creep into my head. I noticed again that she was laying on her back with her arms tucked under her pillow, which was different than the way I saw her go to sleep those other times from my shed roof spot. The panties were on the floor, but that didn’t seem unusual. And that smell… not a clean smell as would be expected from someone who took a bath before going to bed… but what? I leaned closer and figured it out. Katherine had apparently snuck into the liquor cabinet. My first thought was pay-back for that ass-whooping I got after I landed in the laundry room toilet. What would they think of their first-born “Katherine-can-do-no-wrong” child when they found out that Katherine was shit-faced! Revenge could have been so sweet… but basic instinct was sweeter.
Like I said, I didn’t plan for this to happen, but once it started, I couldn’t just stop. Ever so carefully, I inched the bedspread down the entire length of her body. She shivered slightly while I held my panic-breath, but quickly settled without waking. All I really intended to do was just look at her up close like that, and not for a real long time either. But, once again, Katherine surprised me. She scratched her crotch. (I thought only guys did that! You know, like the baseball players do.) I hit the floor real fast, laying flat beside her bed and hoping to high heaven that she wouldn’t wake up and find me. I must have laid there for a half-hour, listening for some clue that it was safe to slither my way out of there altogether and back to the safety of my own bed. But she never stirred, just snored. With silent grace, I rose to my knees and was relieved not only to find that she was still passed out, but that she hadn’t changed her sleeping position, except to spread her legs a little wider and lay her scratching hand on her thigh. The bedspread was still down at her ankles. I dare say that the last temptation of Christ was nothing compared to the urges I was feeling! Being of the Lutheran persuasion, I wasn’t worried about how many Hail Mary’s I’d be sentenced to, but I did say a little prayer under my breath when my boner peeked out of my pajama bottom fly:
“Please Lord, don’t let me lose my wad now because it would be really hard to explain how it got onto this shag carpet beside my sister’s bed and I don’t want to end up in reform school. Please let me touch her now without her waking up and I PROMISE!!! I’ll never think nasty thoughts again!”
Well, I didn’t get struck down by a mighty bold of lightening, so I figured it was okay to proceed. That thatch of dark pubic hair couldn’t have been more than ten inches out of reach, but like a movie scene in slow-motion, my shaking hand seemed to take ten minutes or so to finally lightly land there. I held my breath again, nervously anticipating her inevitable and shocked “WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” scream, but once again, all I heard was the same rhythmic soft snoring.
“What am I doing?” I thought as my palm tingled at just the mere touch of her softness. “This is wrong. (But this feels so nice!)”
Katherine’s legs spread a little bit wider, and my hand got a little bit bolder. I combed her patch the way I had seen her do it, and thought how wonderful those curly hairs felt between my fingers. My thumb accidentally touched the fleshy part of my finger’s playground, but instead of panic, I suddenly felt much braver. Without moving my thumb, I let my forefinger move to that fleshy part as well. My other hand quickly pushed my nebbish knobber back inside my pajama pants (again). I kept it there that time to make sure the feisty little prick didn’t decide to drop a mess on the carpet.
I leaned a little closer to get a better look at what my fingers were doing. My middle finger by then was doing a pretty good imitation of what I had seen Katherine’s middle finger do. Remembering another part of her routine, I suddenly pulled my finger out and stuck it in my mouth. It tasted better than the best tasting candy I’d ever had! But, I got greedy. I wanted another taste when my finger was licked dry, but I wanted it straight-up. This was a sweet pie that could be enjoyed without a fork! And so, my first muff-diving experience happened. I had never seen it in any of Dad’s magazines, and I certainly wasn’t aware that it was a normal part of what I was doing and later learned to call fore-play. At the time it just seemed to make sense, so I did it. It didn’t last long, though. One lick that quick before the fist in my pants felt the hot rush of a sudden, then lingering load.
I should’ve quit while I was ahead, but the urge for one more touch was just too overwhelming. Staring at my fingers gently combing her pubes, my heart suddenly skipped a beat when I felt her hand on my hand. “Uh-oh.” was my only thought then, but once again my big sis surprised me. Without opening her eyes, at least not that I could see, she tenderly pushed my hand away, smiled, then rolled over on her side. I pulled her covers back up and tucked them in, kind of like a loving daddy would do the “nighty-night” routine with his precious little girl. Come to think of it, I don’t remember any time after that night when I felt like a little brother.
My relationship with my older sister changed after that. She was still the first-born favorite, and always would be, but she wasn’t so bitchy to me anymore. Sometimes she even went beyond “nice” to down-right frisky! She started an annoying habit of just goosing me at the most inappropriate times (like during the pastor’s weekly benediction, and at Granny’s funeral). Once, she “accidentally” came into the bathroom while I was taking a bath (only I wasn’t exactly taking a bath at that particular moment, if ya git my drift here. “Oh my! Look at you!” she giggled sweetly, before she apologized for barging in on me.) Another time, she “accidentally” forgot to close her bedroom door all the way when she undressed for bed. The next summer she seemed to lay out in the back yard only when it was my turn to cut the grass, and during those times there was always the “innocent” request for me to put the Coppertone on her strapless back. Her most outrageous “accident” happened at the South Park pool later that summer… she “accidentally” de-pants me in the deep end. (But, that’s part of another story for another time.)
12/15/2005 12:29 pm