Seduced sister
This is a very personal document. It is an autobiography. Maryon Swelt is a very real person, and she has written her very own very real story, just as it happened to her. This is not a work of fiction.
In the several letters we have exchanged with Miss Swelt since we received the manuscript of He Seduced His Little Sister, she has made her thoughts and her motives quite clear to us.
We have taken the liberty of quoting some of her comments from some of her personal letters so Miss Swelt's aims will also be clear to you, the reader. Miss Swelt has written:
"It was not easy for me to write this book, dealing as it does with some of the most intimate passages of my life. It was... and still is... embarrassing to recall these frighteningly-exciting sometimes shameful times of my sexual awakening.
"In the past decade the morals of our citizens have gone through strange and drastic changes... and I have grown with them in the same manner... to a golden realization that the world of sexual experience is a great, expanding globe whose pleasurable horizons can never quite -- hopefully -- be reached.
"In the hopes that repressed persons may read, learn, as I have, I have attempted to record my sex experiences from the age of ten until now -- I am twenty-one.
"To make it easier for me, I have elected to write my story in the third person. Also, frankly, I found it less embarrassing to write of myself in this manner.
"All is true..."
TEN YEARS OLD
Maryon had always adored her brother Michael, five years her senior. Almost as soon as she'd been able to toddle she'd taken to following him around, a habit about which he'd had mixed feelings, finding her devotion flattering on the one hand and a pain in the ass on the other. The Swelts were not a very close family at any time -- Burt had long since found Lois, his wife of an early-aged marriage, something of a bore, and she, him, a boor. Their attitudes, carefully unvoiced in front of the children, nonetheless were sensed by them, so that Mike and his sister unconsciously drew more companionship and the sustenance of reassurance from each other than might ordinarily have been the case.
Burt spent more and more time as the years sped by in 'afterhours' development of his sales. He worked on commission for the Metropolis' Lincoln dealer, often working through Saturdays to demonstrate an auto to one of his special customers, one of those who regularly traded-in each model year. The fact that most of his clients seemed to be middle-aged women of means had once perturbed Lois and been the source of considerable friction between them, but by now she had accepted the position with -- the rationalization that he was successful, and did provide a good enough income for his family. Lois had invented her own romantic notions of the world, using her medieval fantasy to explain to herself why she had no right nor business to go poking her nose into the 'man's world' which existed merely to provide 'ladies' with the means for their ease, comfort, and sustainment. Lots of Lois' words, written, uttered or merely thought, were set within 'quotes', or italicized.
While Burt equally dwelt in a world of unreality and insubstantiality, his mind a constant fabrication of half-truths, flatteries, and flimsy sales-pitches, their worlds were far apart. In the matter of the children's names he had compromised with her in the case of his son, her artistic Michael being easily convertible to plain, mannish Mike, but by the time his daughter arrived he'd thrown up his hands and let Lois decide on the artsy-chintzy Maryon Alysun.
Lois tended to be off in another land altogether when it came to dealing with her offspring, and though Burt tried hard, awkwardly and unsuccessfully, to be pals with his son, he fussed over Maryon whenever the opportunity arose, as though guilty, or perhaps trying to make her over into a different girl than the one he'd married.
The youngster looked forward with delight to the infrequent occasions when he was home and she out of bed, but in his absence turned her attentions to her brother, making him an extension of his father, though, of course, she didn't realize this, then.
Most of the Swelts' neighbors in the tract-home suburb of Glenville were younger, more keenly upward-mobile, childless to be free of restraints while the men climbed and their women pushed. Michael, at fifteen, spent much of his time at his friends' homes in close-by areas, free as a bird on his bike, but Maryon, who by nature seemed to be introspective, and a lone wolf even at ten, spent most of her time dutifully around the house, amusing herself with her dolls and her books, half-ignoring the fluttery flow of words her mother trailed behind her at such times as she wasn't being hypnotized by the tube's view of the world as illustrated by the soaps.
Reaction to her mother's constant reiterations for her to 'act like a little lady' and 'mind her manners' and 'not act the tomboy' came through in the way she treated her own dolls, admonishing them in the same phrases on the one hand, and on the other taking a devilish enjoyment in acting out for them the unladylike, unmannerly and tomboyish that earned them their reprimands. Despite the fantasy worlds of her own she was able to create with her imagination, her family of mannequin actors, and the spaces between the words of her books, she secretly envied the toys -- as she considered them -- of her brother, and it was chiefly this repressed longing that involved her for the first time in the strange, fascinating-and-frightening, mind-molding magic of sex.
It happened on a Saturday morning, a couple of weeks before Christmas, 1961. Dad was out at work, intent on getting as many sales commissions as possible before the holiday season, and Lois had swept out to do some Christmas shopping. Michael had left early on his bicycle for parts unknown and Maryon had been left to her own resources for a few hours.
She was restless, and some demon in her urged her to explore the house, poking into corners and closets in the hope that she might discover the hiding place of the presents that would be hers in such a short time. But children's lives are half-made up by the drives of curiosity and impatience, and so she made her tour, clad in her pajamas. Ten minutes of keen searching netted her nothing, but some excitement still gripped her, making her feel reluctant to resort to her reading or her dolls... and television completely bored her.
In her parents' bedroom she idly stood before the mirror and looked at herself. Her long and curly blonde hair hung in straggled ringlets and without thinking she reached for her mother's hairbrush and began smoothing out the snarls. Before long it had fluffed out prettily and she put back the brush, sitting tall on the dressing table stool. Her clear blue eyes speculated as she tilted her head to one side, then her fingers reached for a lipstick and, filigreed gold top off, applied the crimson pencil to her chubby, full lips, imitating her mother's often-seen gestures, pushing out her lips, drawing them tight against her pearly teeth. The result, after a few minutes of concentration, didn't seem at all bad to her, and a wisp of tissue soon cleared away the slight smudge at one comer of her shining, rosebud lips. She looked at the other paraphernalia on the glassed table-top, and decided that to attempt to touch up her eyes would be too difficult. A thrilling spirit of excitement sparkled those clear blue eyes now, and brought pink color to her smooth, fair cheeks. She slipped off her stool and stepped quickly to the clothes closet, intent on dressing up in the silent, secret house. A bright red satin sheath, a cocktail dress, not often worn, caught her attention and she reached up to slip it off its hanger, then hurried back to the mirror. She pulled the cord of her pajama bottom and then slipped off the buttoned top before impatiently tugging the pants down her long, slim, coltish legs where she kicked them from her ankles. Her body only just beginning to fill out with roundness, her blonde hair hanging full about her bare shoulders so that it tickled, small pink lips, bare of hair, shadowed between her smooth round thighs, she stood naked in front of the mirror and stepped into the dress. The touch of the silk on her bare skin put goosebumps of pleasure on her warm flesh as it slid up her slender frame. She struggled to put her arms into the straps and awkwardly reached behind her for the zipper, tugging the back of the dress around in its fullness.
It was way too big for her in all directions, and hung from her lean shoulders like a crimson, sheening sack, reaching to just above her ankles. Even when she slipped into a pair of Lois' high shoes the thing looked silly, and a belt snapped around her waist did nothing to improve her looks. Shivers delight ran through her small body when she whirled the dress out about her, but she thought to herself that the picture of herself in the mirror was quite ridiculous, and was disappointed. Presently she let the dress slide to the floor, and struggled to hang it back up in the closet, wrestling the stool over to stand on it.
Picking up her pjs, she wandered back into her own room, the cool winter air hardening her little nipples so that she fingered them on her flat chest. She decided to get dressed, and, in a sudden moment of daring, took out her party dress, the fluffy blue dress of satin and lace, with a stiffened skirt that she was only to wear on special days, the next occasion to be the Christmas party. Discarding the box it was in, she pulled it down over her golden head and tugged till it was in place, its wide, lace-trimmed hem several inches above her dimpled knees, for she'd grown some since she'd worn it last. A pair of white silk, elastic topped and legged panties snugged quickly up over her slim hips, and she pulled on a pair of white, ribbed knee stockings, and flat-heeled patent-leather shiny black shoes.
Back to Mom's bedroom to pose and posture in front of the big mirror, admiring herself in the dark folds of glossy satin, the blue setting off her eyes... a run to her own room for a matching thick satin ribbon for her hair, and a few last hasty brushes at her hair, and Maryon was satisfied.
For a while, bouyed up by the guilty pleasure of wearing her forbidden clothes, she played a game with herself, pretending she was her mother at a party, greeting the guests, and accepting their compliments on how pretty she looked in her finery. But after a while this, too, palled, and she hunted around for something else to do, something exciting forbidden!
On tiptoe, for some reason scared though there was no one in the house, nor expected for several hours more, she opened the door to Mike's room, which he'd pointedly kept her out of for over a year, now that he was fifteen and almost a man. She made a moue of feminine disgust at the mess the room was in, with clothes strewn over the floor, books littering the two chairs, and a mess of papers and pencils pushed carelessly back and to one side on the old table top which now contained, in its center, a model plastic airplane, some eighteen inches in length and, apparently just completed. Other models, smaller, as she could see, hung suspended from threads thumbtacked into the ceiling. Pushing the door closed behind her, she walked into the room, stepping over the untidy heaps of clothes and around the unmade bed, and made her way to the table. She'd seen the other models before, when Mike'd triumphantly brought a finished project out to show the falsely enthusiastic Burt and the understanding proud Lois, but this plane was a super monster, cream and scarlet and black and silver, carefully painted and decaled. It was an old-fashioned thing, she saw, with two propellers, and idly she turned one of them with a small finger. The gleaming toy fascinated her and she picked it up, a bit gingerly, by the body.
Soon she was prancing around the room, skipping over the clothes, making the plane fly in her hand, her head mentally set in the cockpit, which had a sliding transparent casing over it, and seeing through half-dosed eyes a swooping, soaring view of the world. So entranced was she in this new game that she didn't hear the door open behind her, but her brother's voice -- "Put that Goddamn plane down, Maryon!" -- hit ears and made her stumble to the floor. The brittle, fragile plane shot out from her hands and crashed against a bed leg to break in shatters on the carpet.
A rough hand seized her arm painfully and threw her to one side. White of face, she saw Mike go down on one knee and tenderly collect the pieces. In a fury he crushed them all together and would have thrown them in her face, if something he'd seen there had not stopped him. His face was flushed with anger and he towered over her, too furious to speak, while she cowered, tearful and fearful, not moving from where she'd landed. Swallowing, he let the broken fragments fall to the bed, and slowly sat down.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked his sister. "Where's Mom? How come you're wearing that dress? And... that's Mom's lipstick you've got on, isn't it?"
When the frightened girl didn't answer, he went on: "Oh, you're in for big trouble, Sis, aren't you!? Dressing up like that... wearing that lipstick-that means you've been in their bedroom, and you know you're not allowed there. And you're in here, when you know you're supposed to keep out... and you've broken my model. It's taken a whole Goddamn week to build it, too. Oh, you're going to get it, for sure. You are really going to get it."
"You made me break it. I didn't mean to... you made me drop it... you scared me," she got out between silent sobs.
"You shouldn't have been in here in the first place," he said, and sat silent, looking grimly at her.
"Mom's gone downtown shopping," she offered, still not moving.
"Hah! I'll tell her fast enough when she gets back, don't you worry about that."
Fearful reaction against her previous excited pleasure came down on her. "Oh, Mike, please don't tell Mom. I'll mend your plane if you like."
Eagerly she scrambled to her feet and made as if to pick up the ruined model from the bed. He circled her wrist and dragged her toward him. "Oh, just leave it alone, it can't be repaired," he said, tiredly, thinking of all the work he'd put into it. And getting his sister punished wasn't going to get him a new plane, he realized. She might be told to stay in her room for a week, and not allowed out to play, but a lot of good that'd do him. He'd get a bit of revenge in seeing her spanked, though, he thought. Looking at her, scared, submissive, almost shivering, her crimsoned lips quivering, clear blue eyes hazed by tears, a sudden idea came to him. Silly brat was only doing what he'd done often enough, exploring in the empty house. And it was his quiet and unexpected entry that'd caused her to trip and so break the plane.
His pretty little sister, and soft and blonde and rosy. And she looked almost sexy dressed like that, in her fine blue satin with the lace at throat and cuff and hem, and her stockinged legs. Kind of cute. And she was afraid of him, and would do anything to avoid punishment by Dad. Well, then, why wouldn't he punish her, make her remember not to mess about with his things any more?
Her chubby little face, framed by the golden ringlets, oddly accented by the crimsoned lips, seemed especially vulnerable, her blue eyes, tear-washed, more than ever eager to seek his favor. Mike swallowed, and relaxed a bit on the bed, sitting back more, spreading his knees. He pulled her, gently but firmly, to stand between his ankles, still holding her wrist.
"Well, now," he began, "you did do all those, uh, wrong things now, didn't you?"
His sister nodded her head briskly, the golden curls softly trembling to the movement.
"And you know at the very least you'll get spanked, hard... till your ass gets red, right?"
Again she nodded, biting her lower lip at the thought of the pain.
"And you can bet you'll be made to stay in your room... maybe they won't speak to you, or let you be spoken to, huh? Well, then, Sis, suppose instead of me telling them, huh..."
This time she interrupted him, her eyes excited, almost jumping up and down with sudden relief, her free hand gripping his arm.
"Oh, please, Mike, don't tell them. I'll do anything..."
He interrupted her in turn. "Well, maybe, but you don't get out of being punished, okay?"
"Okay, Mike," she said, a little wary, a little reluctant, "but what...?"
"I'll spank you myself, first," he said with a grin. "Not too hard, and then I'll think of something. Okay?"
"Oh -- aw, Mike! D'you have to spank me?"
He made himself look severe. "Yes. Oh, don't worry, Sis, I won't hurt you... won't make you cry. Just make you smart a bit's all. So, now," he added, releasing her, "just lay down across my knees and get ready."
Mutinously, though she realized she was getting the best of a bad choice, Maryon came around to his side as he eased himself forward, and prepared to bend over his hard boy's knees in their black Levi's. He looked down at her, seeing the way her stiff satin dress rode up into the air like a sail. "Uh, say, Sis," he said, low-voiced and hesitant, "we don't want you to get your party dress all bent out of shape, huh? I think you'd better take it off."
Something in his tone caught Maryon's ear. Though she was thankful for the slight reprieve, her mind was busy on the rather strained quality of his voice. It wasn't... straight, somehow, she thought as, dutifully, protracting the moment, she stood up and carefully pulled the dress up over her head. It sounded like... like she thought her voice sounded when she was telling a small lie, or covering up for some mistake she'd made. Strange. She didn't feel ashamed at baring herself like this before him. In fact, for some reason, it was nice. Mom had hinted things to her, and she'd heard scraps of tittered conversation among her classmates about boys and girls, but she didn't really know what it was all about. And anyway, Mike wasn't a strange, dirty little boy, he was her brother!
Beginning to feel an excitement of his own, Mike watched as her cream-skinned, lightly curved body revealed itself beneath the slowly upward drawn blue fabric, watching as her dainty little pink nipples, aroused by the rough pull of the dress over them, became visible, hardened. Stretched tall by her efforts, her slender little body arched leanly. Goddamn, I've got a pretty cute sister, he thought, eyeing the taut, translucent white silk panties through which her rosy, chubby cheeks of butt glowed faintly. He'd fumbled with a couple of girls before, but always in the dark, always in quick, guilty haste, and though he knew his sister was far too young to have all of the attractive signs and attributes of sex, perhaps he could learn some of the puzzling realities of the cold abstracts hinted at in the diagrams of sexual anatomy he'd furtively pored over in medical books in the library.
Stripped down to her thin panties, which now she unconsciously pulled tighter up around her waist, thereby outlining the soft fork of her thighs, and to her white knee stockings and shiny black shoes, Maryon stepped toward him again and, half-kneeling, laid herself across his slightly trembling knees, hardening the balls of her bottom in anticipated reaction to his slaps, and not noticing his quivering in her own nakedness. "Not too hard, Mike, please."
He rested one hand on her bare shoulder, beneath the fine golden hair, and let the other caress the rounded fruits of her ass, his heart pounding as the slither of silk beneath his palm sent messages to his brain, finding a queer delight in both the touch and in the thought that he was tormenting her by his waiting. "Just to make you remember it better, this'll be a bare-butt spanking." Before she could protest at the indignity, his hand had slid beneath the elastic at her waist and his splayed fingers took the panties off in one smooth movement, to rest rumpled about her thighs.
Maryon felt vulnerable, and as cool air hit her newly bared flesh she knew herself to be goose-pimpling, and for some reason she couldn't put into words, she felt a flash of anger at his further abasement, making her an object of fun, she thought, betrayed by her own body. But Mike's still fondling hand warmed her quickly and the spear of thought sank deep into her mind and vanished there...
Mike, delaying no longer, eager to get on to something else, smacked her six times with cupped hands, three blows to each cheek, producing more noise than pain, bringing forth only a tiny spot of color to the center of each firm sphere, knowing he hadn't hurt her. Maryon, he soon realized, had also figured that he'd pulled back his strength and let her off easily, for while his hand still cupped her, she wriggled herself around, sat up, and threw her arms around his neck to plant a juicy kiss on his cheek. Then, still holding on, she leaned back, regarded him, then unaccountably burst into giggles.
"Oh, thank you, Mike," she said in her outburst of mirth. "You do look funny." She buried her face against his chest.
"Why, what's wrong?" he asked, guiltily, wondering if his face was giving away his intentions. He noticed his hand still nested between her careless thighs where she'd twisted beneath him.
"You've got lipstick on your face," she giggled. Heedless of everything else, she wet a finger on her dainty little tongue and rubbed his cheek until she was satisfied she'd removed all traces from him, then sat back on his knee, her hands now going to her panties where they made a soft white ruffled band against the pale pink of her fair skin. Mike put his free hand about her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed her face, at the same time keeping his hand firm on the circle of silk at her thighs.
"I let you off a bit, Sis, because I like you, you know?" He swallowed, started to speak, flushed slightly, then blurted out. "But that's only the first part of your punishment."
She regarded him for a moment, head to one side, golden ringlets dangling. "What else, Mike," she said, putting her chubby fists on her slender hips.
"Well... well, I want to look at you, like," he said, not sure how just to put it. "Just... just lie back there, like you were just now, only the other way around."
Misunderstanding him, Maryon began to get up, meaning to rest face down across his thighs from the other side, an innocent smile on her crimson lips, but gently he pushed her back, spreading his knees apart a bit more to make her more comfortable, so that her shoulders were flat on one thigh and her own slim thighs across his black-clad one. Making a game of it, she flapped her arms above her head and let her neck bend back till her blonde curls touched the carpet. He quickly slid a hand beneath her ass to support her, and pulled at her silk panties till he clumsily slid them off altogether, pulling each knee up toward him in turn. With her shoes on the carpet and the stockings covering her to her knees, she presented her arched body to his inspection, her fragile hipbones pushing up through the whitened skin.
Maryon had been caught unawares by her brother's request. She didn't quite know what to make of it but acted quickly in a sudden flush of affection and trust. He was her adored big brother and... well, it was kind of exciting, somehow, to be spread out like this. She wondered what he was thinking. Her head became heavy with blood in her upside-down position and, grasping his thigh, she pulled herself up so that she could see down the length of her body, between the hard little cones of her coral nipples, set into the soft spare skin of her saucers of breasts, now flattened out altogether by the stretch of her body, to where a soft hump appeared above the flat horizon of her belly. She wriggled a bit to get more comfortable, and parted her legs further to let them give her more support.
Her brother's face looked strangely flushed, and his eyes excited. Not feeling quite... right, quite nice, all of a sudden, Maryon closed her eyes and turned her face to where she could rest it on the arm that lay on his thigh, snugging her head against her shoulder.
Mike slowly let his hands and eyes roam over the treasure of his young sister's body, brushing the little nipples with his fingers, tweaking gently at them, pressing them, wondering as he did so why his own hardened under his T-shirt. He let one finger of his other hand circle around her belly-button until she giggled and wriggled deliciously, murmuring that he was tickling her. He changed his circumscribing finger into a brush and let it rejoin its fellows, smoothing down and across her belly, slowly approaching that mysterious, bare mound that thrust up at the crack of her thighs. Not quite bare, though, he discovered as he bent over her, for there was a nearly invisible dust of golden down there, a small triangle of fire, tiny tight curb whose apex pointed down to the naked slot whose edges were pinker than the rest of her. He'd lost track of the proper names of things as spelled out in the books he'd seen... vulva, pubis, labia, vagina -- didn't know which was which as exampled by the fair flesh offered him here, but he couldn't possibly forget the usual names, heard without meaning years ago from older boys. He slid one finger in between her hot thighs until it rested lightly over the slit, covering it.
"Say, Sis, what d'you call this?" He tapped it gently for emphasis, and his voice was low.
Maryon felt color flood her face and arms. Kept her eyes firmly closed, for the first time knowing an exhilarating sense of shame. "That's... that's my hole, Mike," she said, whispering.
"No," he muttered, a bit contemptuously. "That's your cunt. Don't you know that!?"
Again a flush rolled through her, warmer this time, at the sound of the forbidden word... for it was not unknown to her. Only she knew it to be... "That's a dirty word, Mike."
"No it's not, everybody uses it. It's a grown-up word, see. Only grown-ups are allowed to say it. But I'll let you say it to me. As long as you promise never to tell anyone else, hey? So say it, let me hear you say a grown-up word."
"Cunt," she said, softly, not really believing him, but letting the word excite her. "Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!"
"Yeah, that's right," he said, shockingly thrilled at the sound of her girl's voice lisping the word. "Now, I'll teach you some more, if you don't already know them. What do you call this?" he asked, fondling.
"That's my bottom, Mike."
"Nah, that's kids' talk. That's your ass, your butt, your rear-end. They call each one of 'em the cheek of your ass, see. And these?" flicking her nipples and pinching up the soft, silky skin of her breasts.
"I-I don't know, Mike. That's my chest, isn't it!"
"Hah! Little kids have chests. These are your tits, and these are your boobs. Can you remember 'em? Let me hear you say em."
Maryon had heard the words before, but never used them. Or thought of them, consciously. But like all secret, taboo words of the tribes of man, they were burned indelibly on her hidden memory.
"Cunt, ass, tit, boob," she murmured; then, more boldly: "Cunt! Ass! Tit! Boob! Cunt-ass-tit-boob! Cuntasstitboob! Cuntass! Titboob!" She giggled. "They're funny words, aren't they, Mike? When I say 'em like that?"
"That's good, Sis." He bent to kiss her on her left breast, sucking at her nipple as he drew back, sending a sudden delightful tingle from between her legs to her toes, and up to her... tits! Defiantly she said the word to herself. Mike placed the hollowed palm of his hand on her belly, low down, and began to rub it. She arched like a kitten being stroked but, to her sudden disappointment, after a few brushes he left off, and moved a pair of long, warm fingers down to the hot spot between her legs. Feeling good, she relaxed her thighs, tightened momentarily against the alien intrusion, but jerked as he pressed down against the small, firm mound where she'd recently discovered fresh hair to be growing. "Ooh!" she said between her teeth. "That feels funny, Mike. Like-like..." she blushed again "... like I have to go to the bathroom."
"You mean, like you have to take a leak," he sniggered. "I know what you mean, but it's different from that, really. Don't worry, Sis, it'll be all right, I promise."
Fleetingly the little girl wondered how he could know what it felt like. She did know that boys and girls weren't built quite the same, though she didn't know exactly in what way. Maybe Mike'll show me -- if I ask him nicely! -- she excitedly thought, and determined to put the suggestion to him when be seemed to be in a good mood. Meanwhile, she was kinda enjoying this 'punishment' of his.
And meanwhile, Mike was hot and cold at the 'punishment' he was inflicting. If only Maryon'd hold her tongue, and not go blabbing! But then, if she did, she'd not know that her own petty 'crimes' of the day wouldn't be doubly punished. And... she didn't seem to mind what he did with her!
He let his knuckles stroke the firm lean flesh of her thighs and gradually ran his thumb down into the moist, hot area he ached to explore. Leaning his body over her, he peered down as his probing digit eased its way into the lips of her bald, silk-edged cunt. Moving his knee back a bit till it pressed against the hard cheeks of her ass, he brought his other hand sliding down her suddenly trembling body to join the first, and let both thumbs gently prise her flower-like slit apart. It was something like splitting a peach, he thought. Even the down on her skin there was the same. And she was just as juicy inside, he discovered... a little sticky, and with a few kinda little knobs almost like seeds on the soft, red flat part at the top. He ran his fingernail up and down these hard pimples and was surprised when the lips he was holding seemed to thicken and grow to his touch, and he beard her gasp.
"Are you all right, Sis?" he asked, alarmed. He felt a shudder and was going to take his hand away when one of her own stretched down to cover it and hold it in place. "Yes... it's just... a funny feeling, that's all, when you do that. Don't... don't stop."
She spoke through closed teeth and open lips, and her eyes remained closed. Her cheeks were rosy. Curious, he played with her again in the same way, and also slipped one questing finger into her wet hole, surprised to find it easily sliding into a hot, strange, soft cavern where seconds before there'd been only a tight little hole. Against his knuckles he felt her slender thighs move restlessly.
For her part little Maryon was equally as surprised by what was happening to and in her. She felt she wanted to... To twinkle was the way she put it to herself. Down there, where Mike was touching and squeezing and pressing her, it was all hot and loose and open and tingling, like... like when I swallowed a spoonful of hot chili too quickly, and it caught up with her down at the back of her throat and behind her chest. At the same time she felt herself to be floating, as though she was going to faint or something. She shivered, cold, but then burnt with a warm flush that ran all the way through her. Then cold, then hot, in flashes. She licked her lips and took a deep, shuddering breath, letting herself go.
Mike observed the waves of rosy color that swept across the taut surface of his sister's skin, and decided he'd better hold back a bit. Leaving his finger in her, letting it curl and straighten despite his better intentions, he gazed again at the sight of the slender, fair-skinned, rosy-hued, flushed-cheeked, golden-haired, white-stockinged slither of naked flesh that was his sister. Without really knowing why, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders and, raising her so that her head dangled blindly back, kissed her slight breasts and ran his warm cheek down the skin of her belly. He held her to him for a time, his finger still pulsating in her, and her breath matching the rhythm of his strokes, then it hit him that he might take her virginity in this way, if he wasn't careful!
He still wasn't sure of the mechanisms of girls' cunts, but he'd read enough to know that if he took her cherry like this she'd bleed, and get hurt, and probably tell the Old Man and Mom, and...
In sudden, shocking panic he withdrew his finger and let his hand rest hot against her hotter, heaving little slot. Her head jerked up and her wide blue eyes stared at him in a kind of outrage. "Why did you stop, Mike? That was... nice."
"Uh, well, uh, see..." he broke off. Then, kissing her flushed cheek, he whispered in her ear: "III tell you later, Sis, but for now, just believe me, huh? And relax. Here, how'd you like this?"
Still pressing her against him, he jiggled her until she half sat on his knee, coltish young legs sprawled wide apart, and rubbed her lower belly, letting the ball of his thumb press down on the mount at the very tip top of her slit each time it passed that way. "Mmmmhhh, nice, Mike," she murmured against the chest that encased his rapidly pounding heart, and lifted her face to kiss him again, before she remembered, and made a loving pout at him, snuggling her golden head on his shoulder like a contented cat.
She felt that something more should happen to her but, not knowing that she was too young to have any kind of a climax, let herself be titillated to no purpose, allowing him to gradually slow down his so-restful and exciting and pleasurable fondling; as his wrist became weary, regretting only the slight ache just inside and at the back of her... cunt -- and relishing the prickling of her golden down.
"There, Sis, was that good?" he asked presently, halting, all tones of punishment gone from his voice.
"Mmmm, that was so nice," she whispered, holding him close, all pretense of being punished lost from her mind.
He bent his head closer to her, blowing in her ear, whispering likewise because of the intimacy of the moment, not from any fear. "Hey, Sis, you know how good that feels... why don't you do the same for me?" he asked.
"All right, Mike, anything for you." She tried to keep the sudden joy and hope from her voice. Now maybe she could get a look at him, without asking!
"Okay, give me a kiss first though, eh, Sis!?" When she eagerly surged up against him, though, he laughed and reminded her of the lipstick, which she'd better get off anyway, before Mom or the Old Man came home. He pointed her toward a box of Kleenex and watched with mounting excitement as her smooth round globes, small and tight as grapefruit and rosy from their pressure against his knee, bobbled away above her white stockings.
While she licked her lips and rubbed impatiently at them with tissues -- he remembering to dispose of their guilty clues before the day was over -- Mike leaned back on one elbow and unfastened the waistband of his black Levi's, partly unzipping his fly. He'd long since given up wearing underpants, for the sake of believed masculinity, though Lois would have tried to shame him into wearing them if she'd known about his breach and so, when he pulled up his T-shirt, his black-haired, exercise-hard flat stomach was bare to Maryon's eyes as, lips now red with increased circulation rather than cosmetics, she came back, shy and awkward as a month-old filly, to her brother.
Mike's prick had gotten hard... hard as a hammer handle... when he'd been playing with his naked sister, but he'd subsided from that so that his male member lay flaccid and placid along his thigh beneath his tight pants. He hadn't yet recovered his calm and coolness, and was wary, unsure, of going too far. At this time. For now, he intended to keep himself covered and secure.
Maryon was hopefully intent on exploring him, and came over to him as he sat up on the side of the bed, as before, with a charming mixture of boldness and blushes mantling her face and brightening her blue eyes. He patted his knee and she sat herself astride his thigh, tingling again as he, in pulling her closer, unthinkingly brushed the material of his pants in thrilling friction against the lower lips of her cunt. Now she could think/say the word without hesitation, though she was determined in her own mind never to use it except privately to Mike.
The straining fifteen-year-old held the slight nude figure of his sister against him and lowered his head to kiss her firmly on the lips, full, red, and soft against his, feeling her whole body press warmly up against him. Running his hands up and down the valley of her spine, he let himself fall slowly back, so that she lay on top of him with his strong thigh firmly clutched between her own two slender, creamy, girlish lengths, lips still locked to lips, her hair tumbling down about his cheeks and ears. Gently he rolled her off and pushed her up, resting his head on his pillow, his buttocks jacked up on the heap caused by the roll of the unmade bedclothes. He took her hand, winked at her questioning wide blue eyes, and laid her palm down on his warm belly.
Her fingers were cold, perhaps from nervous excitement, but they soon warmed as she began to rub them over his skin as he'd done for her. She concentrated on the job, looking back once at him to seek confirmation she was satisfying him, and he nodded, and embraced her trim little body, slowly caressing her firm ass, his mind lazily filled with thoughts of harem girls who'd perform for him without needing more than a casual touch from himself. He felt his erection growing and shifted his leg the better to accommodate it.
Maryon bent to her task with enthusiasm, slyly creeping her busy little fingers downward to poke their tips into the curly black hair of her brother and beneath the tight edge of his crotch, hoping to get a look at his mystery. Just below her eyes she could see a larger lump of flesh she'd not noticed on him before, packed solid beneath the thin stuff of his black pants. She knew it to be flesh, now, though at first she'd thought it to be something in his pocket until, touching it, it quivered like something alive. Behind her she felt the loving touch of his hands on her ass -- and twitched it to encourage him, not being disappointed as presently she felt his finger play down between its halves, pass lightly over her hole there, and slide into the lips of her front hole... her cunt. Greatly daring, she pushed her hands down under the top of his pants and for the first time felt the hard rod of flesh whose roots grew there.
Mike took hold of his sister's left leg and, bending it at the knee, lifted it across his body so that she straddled him, the position pulling open the naked, pink lips of her little cunt. This close, and with his thumbs parting her, he could see clearly now the hard nodes he'd felt before at the top of the slit. That must be her clitoris, he figured, and noticed her twitches each time he brushed his fingernail across there, and the way she hitched her butt up in the air. There was no sound anywhere to be heard, except that there was an odd kind of ringing in his ears, and the pulsations of his heart. Maryon's fingers were beginning to loop around the thick root of his sex and he decided what-the-hell and, letting her cunt alone for a moment, slid his hands beneath him, raised his own butt, and eased his pants down a couple of inches. His sister seemed to pick up on this unspoken offering and with both hands, she reached into his crotch and along his leg and tugged his rigid dick free. As soon as it was clear, she stopped. He began to run his hand up and down her back, bringing the other to stroke her bent left thigh. "What's the matter, Sis?"
"You... You're... its so big!" she said. "Your thing, Mike. I don't have... why don't I have...?" Her voice trailed off, and he felt her golden, silky hair touch him as she leaned closer.
"That's... that's my dolly, Sis," he grinned. "You get to play with your little dollies... men have their own, see. Now... what d'you call it?"
"This?" she said, squeezing it with both hands. "Your, your thing?"
"Another coupla words for you," he said. "It's called a prick... or a cock."
"A cock!?" she exclaimed. "But a cock's a... a daddy chicken, isn't it?"
"Yeah... but it's also the grown-up name for that."
"Do you mind if I play with your... your dolly, your cock?"
"Go ahead, Sis, but don't be too rough, and stop when I tell you." He lay back and continued to fondle her, trying to stare up into the little pink slit so freely and innocently presented to him.
Maryon was delighted. She knew this was all wrong, somehow, but at the same time she felt she was being let into many grown-up secrets... an honor vouchsafed by her good big brother; and she was grateful. She was sure, certain sure, that Mom and Dad wouldn't approve... this would get both Mike and herself into trouble. But it was better than being punished. And it was fun, playing with this curious length of red and white flesh, with its strange ways. She felt how it throbbed against her palms, and -- wow! -- look at that funny skin at its end pull back! Nothing like that happened to her. Mike was such a good brother. Full of warm and happy feelings, she pressed the hot, funny-looking thing against her cheek, her soft, curly hair coiling down around it, mixing with his black, shiny, tight curls.
"What's this do, Mike?" she asked, cupping four slim fingers under the loose bags of skin nested between his thighs.
"Balls," he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his head up between her own rounded thighs.
"Oh, I see why now," she said, discovering that within the bags of skin were a pair of hard round things... like peach-pits.
"Careful, Sis," he muttered, as she squeezed them and, in a kind of admonition, blew onto the upraised ridges of flesh and into her slot.
"Oooooohhhhhh, that tickles. But it's nice," she said, wriggling her whole body. "How about you?" And bending her head she peeled back his foreskin and breathed warm sweet air about his quivering tip.
"Mmmmmmhhhhhmmmmhhhh!" he hummed by way of reply, feeling ready to spurt.
Maryon could see a drop of milky liquid in the end of the hole in his... cock, and it didn't look like... like bathroom water either -- but maybe boys were different from girls in that way, too. Concerned, tidy, she rubbed her chubby palm across the red-lined tip to clean it up.
"Owowowowowhhhh gggrrrhhh," said her brother immediately and, lifting her with both hands, roiled her off him and turned onto his side, his back toward her, his knees up against his chest.
"What's the matter, Mike, did I hurt you? I'm sorry," she began. But he shook his head. "It's okay, Sis, just leave me alone for a while, huh?"
On hands and knees she continued to look at him, wondering, until he spoke again.
"It's okay, Sis," he said. "Look, uh... I'll tell you what. You'd like to play some more, eh?"
She nodded then, realizing he couldn't see her, said: "Oh, sure, Mike. Now?"
"No-non-no-non-no," he said, in a quiet voice. "But, tell you what, you run along now, and take your clothes with you, and put 'em away, and get everything cleaned up, eh? So that Mom and Dad don't know you've been fuc... messing about today. And, tonight, if you can keep awake, you come along... quietly, mind you, to my room here, and I'll let you play some more. If you're a good girl, that is, and don't mess about any more. Would you like that?"
"Oh, yes, Mike," she said, catching at his arm. "But..."
"Look, you've got a clock in your room, don't you? Well, wait until one o'clock, huh, and then come here. But be quiet! They'll be drinking, tonight being Saturday, and they'll sleep sound, you know? So, okay?"
"Yes, Mike. And thank you for letting me play." She delivered a swift, shy, juicy kiss on his exposed cheek, slid off the bed, picked up her dress and panties, and ran naked back to her room next door.
Mike, using an old sock, finished what she'd started, then lay back on the bed, panting, exhausted.
The Swelt children had long since been allowed the privilege of locking their doors for privacy, the right extended to them in a weak moment after Michael, one fine Sunday morning, at the age of six, having walked into his parents' room when Burt had been humping his wife under the bedsheets, had been thereafter locked out. Lois had long since given up the practice of looking in on her offspring before retiring and, as long as everything within was quiet, and the lights out, neither parent ever bothered to check.
This night Maryon, keyed up with excitement all day, found it easy to stay awake until the prescribed time, reading by flashlight under the covers, listening to the sounds of her parents moving about, of Mike going to his room -- there was no click of his lock! -- and, much later, of Lois and Burt going about the house locking up, putting out the lights, visiting the bathroom and, finally, going off to their own room at the far end of the corridor around the L of the house, beyond the guest room and bathrooms.
Finally the place was silent, creepy-quiet, for she'd never before stayed awake this length of time. She read on and on, every few minutes checking the clock which shone white in the bright moonlight. At last! One o'clock! She put out her flashlight, slid out of bed onto the cold floor, considered her slippers and decided against them, glided to the door, feeling a sudden chill through the thin pink flannel of her ankle-length nightgown, cautiously opened the door, closed it quietly behind her, and trotted noiselessly down the passage to her brother's door in the dark. She didn't knock, knowing it to be unlocked, and pushed it open. There was no sound from within, so she as quietly closed it behind her and tiptoed over to the bed, being careful not to stumble over the untidy heaps on the floor, seen clearly by the shafts of light streaming through the uncurtained windows from the full moon. Shivering with cold, she climbed up onto the bed and bent her lips close to Mike's ear.
"Mike! Oh, Mike. It's me!" she whispered. Impatiently she put her hand on his neck to shake him, and he came awake with a jerk.
"Whaaaaaaa...?" Her fingers were cold and the shock of them on his skin startled him, but he quickly remembered the assignation and took in the situation. He'd three-quarters thought she'd go to sleep, and wasn't too concerned whether she came to him or not... he had several ambivalent views about the whole thing. But here she was, his luscious little sister Maryon, eager and willing, it seemed. He put his arms about her and gave her a kiss on her nose, for being so good, and felt her trembling with cold... and what else?
"Hey, you'd better slide in here," he said, pulling down the sheets and blankets for her.
"Brrrhhh!" she murmured softly, pulling up her knees and driving her trim little body down beside him, her pink nightgown riding up about her legs. "Why, you've got no clothes on!" she added, discovering this.
"Aw, pjs are sissy," he scoffed, pulling her against him, sliding an arm about her shoulders so that she was flat to his body, as yet unaroused.
"D'you... think this is sissy, Mike?" she anxiously asked, shrugging inside the pink flannel.
"Well, you're a girl," he said. "But, heck, why wear clothes to bed? You want to go to the bathroom, you put on a robe."
"All right," she said, feeling warm and cozy here in this soft nest. "I'll take this off. I'm not a sissy, either!"
Propping himself up on one elbow, he watched, amused by her little-girl determination, as she struggled with the garment. She sat up and reached down to the hem and began to pull it up over her long, slim thighs, but had trouble getting it under her butt. She wriggled for a few moments, her face defiant and angry with herself, and then he laughed.
"Hold it, Sis," he whispered. "I'll give you a hand."
Making a kind of cave of the bedclothes over his back, he knelt over her, straddling, tugging down her ankles and tipping her on to her back. Putting his hands behind her knees, he slid them slowly up the backs of her silky thighs, riding the thin stuff of the gown up with his wrists. His fingers reached the soft but clearly-defined indentations at the top of her legs and then he was cupping the hard, firm balls of her young ass, lifting her, watching as, at the front, the fine down above her pubic mound came into view, cresting her slender white legs. He moved his hands slightly around so that he could splay his long thumbs up over the fragile-looking bones of her hips, taut against the fair skin of her smoothly-curved belly, then continued to push upward, Maryon easing her body up to aid him, her wide blue eyes shining, her full lips moist.
She let him move her like a limp rag doll, thrilling, she knew not quite why, to his touch, to the silence, to the strange white moonlight, to the look on his intent face, to the sound of his hoarse breathing, to something dangerously exciting within her own self.
As the slowly upward-moving hem pulled over her stiff little pink nipples, she saw him lick his lips and then, dear brother, he bent his head and licked the twin hard towers so that once again she felt a weird, shocking current shoot along the wires of herself, to her... cunt, to her toes, to the corners of her eyes. Across the bundle of nightgown beneath her chin she couldn't see his lower body, hidden as it was in the cave of bedclothes, but suddenly she felt his loose bag of hot flesh -- his balls! -- brush against her thigh, and another delightful shiver went through her. She curled her toes and closed her eyes, flushing as his soft flesh crept up her belly as he, leaning forward, raised her shoulders, straightened her arms above her head across the pillow, and pulled the pink nightgown up and over her head.
For a brief moment Mike left her like that, her head and arms shrouded in the flannel, her vulnerable child's body naked to his stare from throat to foot. His penis was but quarter erected, still soft, and he deliberately let his swaying member touch down and dip till it nestled in her cute little belly-button. He watched a shudder run through her and bent to take one tiny hard nipple between his teeth, tugging gently on it. Again she twitched, and he heard her gasp. Slowly he grasped the hem of her gown and carefully pulled it up over her face until it was exposed, hooded by the cloth, her hair still within its folds, her arms trapped above her in the soft pink bonds. Her eyes were open again, shining, her moist lips open in delicious wonder, and he bent to kiss her, for the first time thrusting his tongue between her pearly white teeth and letting it explore her small hot wet cavern. For a second she choked, and then he felt her own curious child's tongue, small, pointed, and flexible as a finger, driving around and into his own. Favoring his left leg, he began to run one warm hand up and down the length of her body, from slit to slender neck and back. And again, and again, each time brushing one or the other of her nipples, still holding his lips against hers, letting his tongue swell and withdraw, teasing her.
Unable to move her arms, but wishing to show her beloved brother the appreciation she felt he deserved for his new, tingling pleasure, Maryon thrust her hard body up at him, writhing a bit to rub her bare skin against his hairy thighs, unconsciously responding to the urge of sex, though she was as yet too young to understand or fulfill these instinctive movements. She only knew that his tongue in her mouth was sweeter than candy, more delightful than ice cream, more sensational than sparkling, prickling Coke... and nothing like any kiss she'd given or received before in her whole entire life! But intuition told her never to try this with Mom, or Dad, or anyone else she knew. Only with Mike! Daringly, gingerly, she closed her dainty little teeth on his tongue and, having trapped it, ran her own pointed prober around it as if it was a hot popsicle she'd gotten between her plump lips.
Mike was amazed and a little scared by his sister's enthusiastic response, and slowed down a bit. Already he was horny, though no more than piss-proud down there. With a last smacking suck, and a light peck on her blushing cheek, he concentrated on getting the nightgown clear of her. Devilishly she kept her arms stiff above her so that he was forced to extend himself up and over her, and he gasped as his swinging balls hit her chin, and he felt her lips pucker as they brushed against them. Struggling with her recalcitrant wrists, his eyes widened as his amazing little sister kissed his dangling flesh and let her impudent tongue lick along the cord that defined his two nuts.
Maryon was fascinated by the strange objects pressing against her face, and couldn't wait to have her hands free to explore there some more. Surely it'd been bigger than this earlier!? And harder!? Once he'd finally stripped the scrap of pink from her, she raised her head to shake out her mussed up curls, and so mashed her pretty flushed face against him. Again that odd flashing glow sparked through her, and she put her hand to it.
Not sure whether he altogether liked this sudden spurt of activity and inquisitiveness on her part, Mike sat back on one heel, then drew himself down against her, pulling the warm mass of bedclothes down over his chilling body. His sister, happy as a kitten, snuggled up against him and once more reached down for his cock. A sudden thought came to him. "Did you lock the door?" he urgently whispered in her ear. She shook her head. "Then you'd better hop out and do it, just in case," he said, pulling the sheet down from her to expose her once again. She shivered, made a mutinous moue then, sighing, slung her long slender legs over the side of the bed, and, on tiptoe still, made her way to the door and slowly, quietly as she could, thumbed down the lock.
Mike watched her as she went, sitting up in the bed with the clothes about his knees. As she turned toward him once more, smiling at him, with her body hunched and her hands on her opposite shoulders for warmth, he put his finger to his lips, then beckoned to her, then motioned with his finger until she was positioned, still hugging herself, in the center of the room, full in the bright rays of moonlight. Acting out for her with his own body what he wished her to do, he had her reluctantly move her hands until they were raised high above her golden head, high as she could thrust them, standing on tiptoe with her legs somewhat apart. Slowly she turned, with her gleaming hair falling down about her slim young shoulders, offering to his greedy eyes the whole, total view of her nude, slender, virginal body, with its flat breasts and hard cores of nipples which sent a pair of sharp black shadows down onto her silky skin, and the plump mound at the joint of her thighs, bare and brazen, and the firm creamy globes of her young girl's ass, with its black crevice between.
As she turned for the third time to face him, her eyes pleaded with him and, grinning, he nodded. What a slave she'd make -- this eager, golden-haired sister of his, ten, tender and untouched.
She trotted rapidly to the bed and threw herself in with him with a slight protest of springs. "Careful, Sis!" he whispered in warning. He kissed her cool forehead, put his arms around her, and pulled up the bedclothes, holding her hard against him, silent, unmoving, until she was over her goose bumps and shivers and was warm again. Presently, she was content to let him do anything. He reached down and put his hardening cock between her thighs so that it stuck out behind them. At the feel of this hot bar of flesh between the satiny surface of her legs and up against her... Ass! Maryon let out a gasp and trembled with guilty pleasure, though why she felt shy and brave and ashamed and afraid and daring all at the same time, she couldn't have said. Placing warm, moist lips on his shoulder, she let her left hand run down her body, then behind it, until she could, by stretching a bit, just take his tip between three fingers and a thumb, squeezing and pressing, breathtakingly excited as she felt his thing growing larger beneath her cunt, and between her slim thighs. Using her thumb, she peeled his skin back ("What's that, Mike?" "Foreskin, Sis!" "Oh.") and since he was a bit longer there now, managed to get her tiny pinky to press its nail into the hole there. She could hear Mike breathing deeply, shakily, and could feel his heart pounding against her. It was getting stiffer, harder, longer... if only she could touch it freely.
Mike's own free hand was slowly smoothing the flesh of her side and back, a delicious feeling, so soothing... when suddenly he stopped.
"Wha...?"
"Ssshhh...!" he said. "Listen!"
There was a noise outside somewhere, in the house. Scared, all her 'grown-up'-aping confidence lost, Maryon made no resistance as, freeing himself from her, Mike roughly thrust her down along him and pulled the covers up to his chin.
"Don't move!" he ordered, sticking his head under the sheet.
She hugged herself against him, her head on his belly, her knees bent with one leg over his, arms clutched to her breast.
"It's Mom or Dad, going to the bathroom," he hissed again.
Suddenly afraid, knowing his manhood to be wilted, aware of the awful consequences, especially to him, if they should be discovered like this, Mike felt his heart hammering and his lips drying.
He listened keenly, straining to hear if footsteps would come down to this leg of the 'L', if the doorhandles of his and Maryon's rooms would be tried. Bet the little idiot didn't lock her own door!
Presently he heard the toilet flush again, doors open and close... then blessed silence. There was no movement in the bed with him. Goddamn! Has she gone to sleep, or what!? He put his hand down, under the covers, and ran his fingers into the silk curls of her hair. "Hey, it's okay now, you can come out," he said, tugging. But she hadn't been asleep at all, as he quickly discovered, just patiently and obediently waiting, for his signal was acknowledged by a juicy, full-lipped kiss about the hollow of his navel, and her sharp young tongue gouged into it to send shockwaves of pleasure through him. The cool mass of her soft hair slid along his belly as she moved down...
Trapped in the misty, musty warm darkness against the hot flesh of her brother, Maryon had felt against her thigh how Mike's cock had rapidly lost size and firmness, shrinking back and down softly against her. And wondered at it. How strange! What a funny thing to happen! The problem was... was his cock usually long and hard, and only getting smaller when he was frightened -- for she'd worked that much out, that fear reduced it; or did it just come up big at special times... like when she played with it. But no, when she thought about it, she hadn't touched him the first time until he was already big and throbbing and hot.
She decided to find out in the simplest way, experiment.
Unaware of the thoughts going through her brother's mind, she remained where she was under the covers, only moving herself around a bit in the kindly warmth to get into a more comfortable and practical position... on half-bent knees that hooked the sole of her right foot up under his left armpit, resting on his stomach, stretched over him, her left arm on his left thigh. She wished she could see down here... should have brought her flashlight, but another time for that. Maybe her fingers, if she kept them moving about him all the time, would see for her. With one plump little fist, she thumped his right leg, willing him to spread it away from her so that she'd have more room and, primal communication, he immediately parted his legs, leaving all his sex to rest, dangling, between them. Her hot, quick breath warming his hair and the base of his cock, she began her blind examination, not knowing what she did when her golden, silky hair floated and dragged about the tender, sensitive skin inside his thighs, and her proud young nipples scored through the black coiled hair of his belly.
Maryon let both her warm soft hands coddle and cradle his dick, letting her thumbs tell her of the cracked, leathery sides of his balls -- creased and seamed at first, and then magically transforming to slippery smooth satin as she cupped them. She circled his cock with her finger and thumb and discovered she could now do this easily, though before, when it was hard, it was too big for her. The poor thing was bent and lax like an old piece of rubber hose. Commiserating with his droopy dolly, she put her lips to it and kissed it, running its short, squat length between her lips with her fingers beneath it. To her surprise she felt it quiver against her, and in a moment she could feel... well, what felt like little rivers running crookedly along just beneath the skin. And the whole thing was growing again. Excitedly, as his blood engorged his veins, she took it in both hands, firmly, and squeezed... it was just like pressing paint from a tube at school -- except that this was being filled, not emptied! Eagerly she fumbled till she found his foreskin, surprised to find it warmly moist on the inside, and slippery... like a banana. Carried giggling away by her thought, she pressed her full, plump little lips over his cock's end and slid the rest of his foreskin back with her teeth until they caught behind his rim. Mmmmhhhh! A taste like cheese. And a smell... well, it wasn't quite like swe... perspiration -- "Horses sweat, people perspire, dear!" -- but something like it. And something like, like 'off-of-cloves', Mommy uses sometimes when she cooks...
In the hot, airless confines of the bed, Maryon, her face flushed, her breath heavy, her trembling body excited, sucked the magic rod, now back to its former strength and length... kissed it, admiringly caressed it, rubbed it against her cheek, felt it throb and quiver to her touch, squeeeeeeezed it, tried to bend it, felt strange jerks in it, marveled at the way the skin of his balls flinched and their contents flex, thrilled to the trembling of his own loins...
... and was hurtfully startled as once again she was thrust from him, bared as he flung the bedclothes off them, shocked as he reached under his pillow, ignoring her, wrapped something white about the head of the column of flesh that stuck up from his hips and, gasping, huddled over himself.
Maryon crouched on her knees, her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry out with alarm. Was he hurt? Had she done something wrong to him? Would he punish her again? He continued to squeeze his cock, and she saw that he had a handkerchief around it. He was breathing heavily but, in a minute, with a last squeeze and pull at himself, he lay back on the pillow and looked at her.
Exhausted, spent, ashamed at having shot his load in front of her, suddenly scared that he'd frighten her with his sudden roughness, and that she would go running off crying to their parents, Mike thrust the soiled handkerchief under the mattress and reached for his sister.
"It's okay, Sis," he whispered in her ear. "You did just right. That's what happens when men... well... Hey, are you okay now?"
Reassured, she nodded against his bare shoulder. He gave her a gentle kiss. "Look, I reckon that's enough excitement for one day, for you. Uh... while you're still warm, before you catch cold, put your nightgown on and go back to bed, eh?"
A bit disappointed, feeling somehow cheated, Maryon nodded again, hugged him once, got off the bed, slipped into her pink nightgown, looking and fee ling forlorn in the cold moonlight, and picked her way over to the door.
"Hey," he whispered after her. "We'll do this again, Sis. And don't forget to be quiet, and lock your door after you again. Don't tell the folks, okay?"
She ran back to him and threw her slim arms about him. Her brother was so big and good, and she wouldn't hurt him for the world. But... that -- that cock! -- was a funny, frightening thing, if it made him act like that...
Silently the little figure slipped off into bed and her dreams.
ELEVEN YEARS OLD
"You mean to say you've never heard of Truth, Dare and Promise? You Yanks don't know nothing. C'mon, I suppose I'll have to teach you..."
It was the summer of '62. Maryon had made one firm friend at school, but even to Karen she'd made no mention of her exciting games with Mike. Though, lately... for some months in fact... he'd paid little attention to her. She'd suspected for some time that he was enjoying himself with his new girl friend, that Riva Kamparsky who treated her, on the few occasions she deigned to come over to the house, like a little kid. One day she'd show them all how grown up she was... how much of a girl... how much she knew about making a boy happy, even if she was little and young.
But so often had she gone to sleep thinking such thoughts, and so commonplace had they become to her childish, still largely unformed mind, that they'd sunken deep into her, and were now unvoiced and unnoticeable, as quiet and secret as a cancer. She certainly wasn't consciously aware of them as, this hot, bright day, she sat with
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