One on One with Uncle Bob
Lubrican
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I woke up and drifted in that land between sleep and wakefulness that feels so good on a Saturday morning. I didn't have anything to do... well, not counting mowing the lawn and helping Mom wash the windows, and fixing the chain on my bike that had slipped off the sprocket when I didn't want to get my hands all greasy to fix it.
But basically I still had some time to loaf, and I did it in bed.
Dad worked Saturdays, at his furniture store. I was only fifteen, and exempt for a couple of more years from being drafted to work there too. I was kind of conflicted about that. I knew he'd pay me if I worked for him, and that would be nice, but having the freedom to sleep in on Saturdays and run around was really precious too, you know?
So I lay there and thought about girls.
I thought about Becky Thompson, who had kissed me at the Freshman dance at the end of school last year, but who wasn't allowed to date. She'd made the most of being able to be with a boy that night, let me tell you. She rubbed all up against me and held me real tight while we danced and then kissed me on the last dance. I'd gone home with a boner you could have broken concrete with.
Then there was Ruthie Valdez, who was a dusky-skinned Hispanic girl who sat beside me in World History. She had dark eyes and big breasts and she wore sweaters a lot that did nothing to hide them. She didn't overtly flirt with me or anything... she was just friendly and that was all it took for my fifteen year old imagination to take off from there. I imagined her body like I had seen Hispanic models in Playboy, with that black pubic hair and dark nipples. She was good for a boner too.
Lindy Breckenridge was one of my best friends from down the street, and we had grown up together. She was blond and perky and somewhere along the way she grew breasts and hips and her lips got all full and pouty. She still wore her hair in a ponytail almost all the time and that got to me too, even though she'd always worn it that way. She and I had played "You show me yours and I'll show you mine" back when we were about eleven, and had stood facing each other naked for what seemed like two hours, just staring at each other. I got a boner then too. Then, without a word, she had bent over, pulled on her clothes and ran... RAN... out of the shed we were in. After that she wouldn't play that game any more. We never talked about it, really. It was just like "Been there, done that, got that T shirt."... at least for her. But I remembered her, and as she grew those breasts and hips and pouty lips it wasn't hard for me to superimpose them over her real memory. She was always good for a boner, but I didn't ever tell her that.
Just thinking about those three girls had given me the boner I wanted to produce, so I could stroke the crap out of it and squirt, which was the best way in the world to start a Saturday morning. So I stroked and dreamed and was so close to filling up a Kleenex when my sister pounded on my door and yelled, ruining the mood.
"Get up squirt, Mom went to get window washing stuff and told me to have you ready to work when she gets back."
Damn!
I knew that if I didn't get up she'd come barging in, so I left off taking care of things and got up. I was wearing the PJs my Aunt gave me. They had footballs and baseballs and soccer balls and all that crap on them, like they were for a seven year old, but they were kind of like boxers... loose and comfortable and light, so I wore them.
All of a sudden I was famished. I decided to get dressed after eating breakfast.
Jill had gone downstairs after she ruined my morning wakeup ritual, and was coming back up to her room, I guess. She was still dressed in her sleep shirt, which was really a 2X T shirt that had a picture of Jimi Hendrix on it playing a guitar. It was my Dad's, but she stole it and got away with it. She always gets away with anything she wants to. She thinks because she's two years older than me... well a year and a half, anyway, that she's special or something. She liked to tease me too, which is why she called me "Squirt" all the time. She knew I didn't like it.
So I didn't, like flatten myself against the wall to let her by or anything. I mean the hallway is wide enough for two people to cross paths if they're polite, you know?
And as I went past her, she pinched my butt! Hard!
"Hey!" I twisted away from her. She was laughing and bent over, trying to reach around me and pinch me again!
"Knock it off!" I yelped, dancing around and batting at her hands.
"Poor baby" she crooned, still trying to get to my butt. I noticed that her shirt collar was kind of loose, and I could see most of two surprisingly big and soft looking boobs.
She got me again because I was distracted and I yelled. It hurt!
Well, you know what they say. The best defense is a good offense.
So I went after her ass. I basically just walked toward her, instead of trying to get away, and surprised her. I crushed her against the wall with my upper body and grabbed two handfuls of ass that were surprisingly round and soft. Except I didn't pinch them, exactly. I just squeezed them really hard. Except that they were so big and spongy that I couldn't really squeeze them all that hard.
She shrieked, oddly enough in a laughing way, like she was actually glad I was standing up for myself or something and her fingers dug into my ribs where she knew I was ticklish.
I really am ticklish. I mean I get incapacitated when I get tickled, so I backed off so fast I banged into the other wall. She was laughing again, her fingers reaching for me as I swung my arms trying to keep her hands away from my ribs.
Suddenly she stopped. She turned and walked away, like it was all over. Then she looked over her shoulder at me and bent over and wagged her butt at me.
"Is this what squirt likes?" she teased. "Is this what pervert little brother wants to touch?"
I must have gotten one of those looks on my face that told her I was mad, because she ran.
Maybe if she wouldn't have run, I wouldn't have chased her. I don't know. I knew that if I caught her all she'd do was tickle her way free, but something snapped in me and I took off after her growling like a bear. She shrieked again, laughing and looking over her shoulder at me, until she reached her room and swung inside.
I charged in after her. What I didn't know was that, as she gripped the door jamb to swing into her room, she kept hold of it, swinging all the way around and against the wall. I dashed right past her, thinking she was going for her bed, to put it between her and me, and she was on me from behind like a cat on a mouse.
I was headed for the bed, and when she crashed into the back of me, her hands reaching around me to tickle, she just pushed me faster and we both fell down on her bed, kind of sideways. I tried to roll as she bounced up into the air a little bit and ended up under her, with her straddling my waist. Her hands went straight for my ribs.
My head and legs were hanging off the opposite side of her bed and I did a kind of sit-up and rolled, trying to get out from under her. All that did was get me stretched out on the bed with her still straddling me, sitting on my abdomen.
She had this evil grin on her face. I was taller than her, and had pretty good muscles, but you can't use all that when you're as ticklish as I am, and all I could do was try and grab her wrists. I got one of them, but she managed to dig her other fingers into my ribs and I jerked, lifting both of us up off the bed.
That was when I saw her pussy.
She wasn't wearing panties. Her shirt was up around her hips, kind of pulled back behind her, and I could see almost from her belly button clear down to two fat looking pink lips that were pressed together under a fluff of reddish looking hair. Her hair is kind of reddish or auburn or whatever color they call brown with red glints to it. Her pussy hair was the same color, if a little lighter, and with a little more red to it.
Now I know she was my sister and all, but I was fifteen, and, not counting Lindy, this was the first real live pussy I had ever seen. And this one didn't look anything like Lindy's had.
So I stared.
Well, that distracted me and she got her other hand loose and, not knowing that she was giving me a sweet shot, she went back to tickling. I swear I didn't mean to do it, but as I tried frantically to tickle back, I suddenly had two hands full of the softest, most fantastic feeling breasts a boy could imagine. It was amazing. They looked so firm and hard when she walked around. Maybe a bra makes them look like that. I had been hugged by women, and their breasts felt mostly firm and stuff. I could feel two bumps that I knew were nipples and, as my hands slid around on her boobs I could feel that those were hard, but the breasts they were attached to were amazingly soft.
She froze, and the strangest look came over her face as she looked down to see my two hands fastened firmly on her tits, one on either side of Jimi Hendrix, who was flailing away at his guitar, oblivious of what was going on right underneath him.
You know how they do things in slow motion in the movies, to let you fully experience all the things that are happening in a rush during a scene?
It was like that. I felt her breasts under my hands, and I looked at her pussy, and I felt cool air on my prick, which I realized was hard as a rock.
Wait a minute.
Cool air on my prick?
My PJs had a hole in the front, with no buttons, like boxers do, and all our wiggling had gotten my little man through that hole and when my eyes announced to my brain "pussy!" and then "tits!" my brain ordered "hardon now!"
Meanwhile Jill was looking down at what I was holding onto like a drowning sailor holds onto a life preserver and she saw what I had been staring at, namely, her naked pussy.
She made a kind of gurgling noise. It wasn't words, really, and her hands went from tickling to pressing on my chest as she flexed her knees and tried to get off of me.
I, on the other hand, knew that if she did get off me, my rampant boner would be exposed for all the world to see. Well, for Jill to see anyway, and I had no doubt whatsoever that she would not appreciate that.
So I let go of her boobs and grabbed her wrists and tried to keep her from getting off.
That's how important I thought it was. I actually let go of real breasts!
All that did was let her scoot her butt back and, since it was raised at the time, it managed to clear my prick, which was leaning drunkenly, like it was looking at my face. I knew it had been looking at her pussy too, or trying to, but her butt cheeks were in the way.
Until now.
Now, Old Faithful had a clear view of her pussy. I actually expected it to stand up, like a little kid trying to reach candy on a counter top that's just a little too far up to reach.
But it didn't. Instead it drooled a little bit, like an old man sitting in a rocking chair on the porch while a flock of cheerleaders prances by.
End of slow motion. The world sped back up.
Jill, unable to get loose, sat back down.
I think she could feel that there was something there, because she looked down and there, as if by magic, it looked like she had a penis. The head and maybe an inch stuck out through her fluffy red pubes.
Okay, slow motion again. I know this is distracting as you read this, but it helps me think about what happened then.
About ten emotions flitted across her face. She frowned, and then her eyebrows went up and her forehead wrinkled, and her mouth fell open and her eyes darted to mine which, oddly enough were on hers, and then she made a kind of grimace with her mouth and her face smoothed out and... she licked her lips.
I swear it's true. She licked her lips.
Now maybe that seems like a little thing to you. People probably lick their lips a thousand times a day. But you see, while she was licking her lips she was not screaming at me, which I expected to happen any second. I mean she knew that wasn't her prick sitting there all snuggled up against those puffy pussy lips.
I was paralyzed. I knew my life was over. Maybe that's why, with just a little flick of her wrists she was able to get them loose. She put her hands back on my chest and I could feel them pushing, but what she did was scoot back a little more until her butt firmly encountered my balls, which were, as you might remember, at full capacity from not being emptied that morning. She stared at the couple more inches of my penis that were uncovered and she sort of relaxed.
That's the only way I can describe it. We had both been all tense and fighting and all that and now she just sat, leaning on my chest.
Then I felt her hands dig into my chest and she pulled, sliding her pussy along my prick until the head just vanished into her reddish hair.
I felt the head of my prick suddenly enveloped by heat, which lasted just long enough to freeze my brain and, as she scooted back down toward my feet I saw that those tightly closed pussy lips weren't tightly closed any more. Instead they were riding my prick like a saddle fits on a horse. The thought that that heat I had felt might be her pussy mouth just electrified me and I went rigid all over.
I swear it felt like it took ten minutes for her to move those three inches, back and forth. That's why I had to put it into slow motion again.
Anyway, things went back to normal motion again and she started sliding back and forth, her breath coming faster and faster. She licked her lips again and, for some reason, looked up at the ceiling. I couldn't look at anything.
What I was feeling was the most fabulous, most amazing, most mind boggling thing I had ever felt.
She looked back down and she had her teeth closed real tight, and her mouth stretched like she was smiling on purpose, you know that fake smile Miss America uses all the time, and she made a high pitched keening sound as she ground down against me.
Well, fifteen I may have been, but I had a pretty good idea that she was having an orgasm and I had dreamed of a girl having an orgasm around my prick at least a thousand times. That was what usually set me off while I was flailing away at my little buddy.
It was no different this time.
My balls gave a jump and a stream of spunk shot out of my cock. She happened to be in the back position at the time, and the stream was unobstructed. It hit me right on my solar plexus and then pooled down onto my stomach, which had sucked in so far my backbone was probably visible.
She heard me hiss and looked down just as she slid back forward and another rope of stuff blasted out. That one was not unobstructed. Her pussy got in the way, sinking down to half cover the head of my dick as it spat and getting her pretty pussy mouth all spermy.
She gasped and I thought her fingernails would tear out my pecs. She got all wild, rubbing this way and that, pushing her pussy all over the puddle of sperm on my stomach as my prick kept squirting. Then she lifted back up and settled down on top of my prick again, rubbing there.
All that... from the time we hit the bed, to right here in the story, probably only took ninety seconds, maybe less. It felt like hours, and I didn't want it to quit, but the sound of Mom opening the back door and coming into the kitchen pierced into our brains like a bullet.
Now she scrambled off of me and fled like dogs were chasing her.
I looked down at my prick, which was going soft fast, and at the mess my sister had left on my stomach, and simply got up and dashed to the bathroom. I went in the shower with my PJs still on and turned on the water.
It was freezing.
I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I just danced around, trying to wipe myself clean before Mom came in and saw all that white stuff streaked all over me.
She didn't, though, and eventually the water warmed up and I took off my PJs and washed them out and wrung them as dry as I could. I figured I could hang them on my desk chair or something to let them dry. Then I dashed for my room.
I could hear my mother's footsteps as she trotted up the stairs from the kitchen. "Jill? ... Bobby?" She called out. "Come help me, I've got groceries in the car that need to be put away..."
I heard Jill's door open as I pulled a T-shirt over my head, realizing that my hair was still slightly wet, both from my shower as well as my own perspiration.
"Cuuuuming" I heard my sister sing out.
I mean it sounded like that. You guys out there will know what I'm talking about next.
I felt one of those explosive laughs burst out of me, like when you want to cry during a movie, but you can't because you don't want anybody to see you do that. It happens during sad movies to me sometimes, like when the dog dies or something. You hold it all in until it just won't stay in and then when you feel it getting ready to break out you turn it into a laugh somehow. It doesn't even sound like you're laughing and it's easy for it to turn into a sobbing jag.
Girls just go ahead and sob and cry and probably have no idea what I'm talking about.
Anyway, I heard her meet our mother in the hall and I couldn't go out there because I knew I'd lose it.
"I thought you were just going to get cleaning supplies," said Jill, her voice sounding completely, unbelievably normal. There was no trace of the fact that only moments before, her pussy had been messy with her own brother's spooge. Come to think of it, it might still be all spooged up, seeing as how I was in the shower, which meant she wasn't.
"Well, you know. I was there, and we needed some things," said Mom.
Mom's voice was normal too. Normal like Jill's. For some reason I had this sudden image of my mother sitting on some guy doing what Jill had just done instead of being at the store like she said. The guy didn't have a face in my mental image, but it wasn't my father, because he was at work. Funny how the mind works. My mother, in this little flash of mental vision, had Jill's body, but it was definitely my mother. It was like you couldn't trust anybody's normal voice.
I know that sounds stupid to you, but think about it... what would my mom have probably said if somebody walked up to her right then and said "Guess what your son and daughter were just doing..." She wouldn't have believed it... not right then anyway. One look at me and she'd know it was true, but she'd never just... believe it... not right off like that.
And if somebody came up to me and said, "Hey, I just saw your mother naked riding this guy on a park bench over on third street," I wouldn't have believed that for a second either. But we had ... so couldn't she?
So the idea that she might have been doing something like that while we were doing something like that didn't seem so crazy to my... well... stressed out mind.
I took a deep breath and blew it out. This was crazy. I did it again and felt a little more calm.
My mom's voice went on. "Go ahead and get started, I'm just going to put these in the bathroom and then I'll be down to help," My mother said. "Where's Bobby?" she asked, walking down the hall toward her bedroom, which was across the hall from ours. I opened my door to find her standing right in front of me, holding a shopping bag in her arms.
"Oh my? Bobby ... what happened to you?" She asked in surprise, and I felt her eyes staring at me as she stood in front of me in the hallway. "Are you okay?"
Leave it to a mother to know something even though there are no visible clues and all the evidence has been washed down the drain.
And what do you say when the woman standing in front of you knows you inside out, has caught you every time you told even a tiny white lie, and can read you like a book?
And leave it to the sister involved, who always got away with everything she ever tried to get away with, and who could lie straight-faced to both parents and never get a raised eyebrow ... to save me.
Jill popped her head around the corner. "He's all bent out of shape because I beat him in a game a little while ago. I think he's one of those macho types who can't take it when a girl gets... the best of him." She giggled.
I'm telling you she was shameless. She put that emphasis on "best" and I knew exactly what she was talking about. I swear she was enjoying watching me squirm as I stood in front of my mother.
"A game?" My mother asked, "What kind of game?" She turned to Jill, who was still grinning, almost gloating as she stood with her hands an her hips and her foot cocked out in triumph.
"One on One," Jill said. She saw me looking at her and grinned wider.
"Basketball?" asked my mother, her mouth open. "You actually beat him at basketball?"
"I'm telling you," said my sister, "I handled the ball much better than he did." She giggled again. "I wanted to play him at stick ball, but he was too chicken."
"Stickball?" asked my mother. "You can't play stickball with just two people."
"You can too." said Jill, like she was having a serious conversation instead of what she was really doing... torturing me. "It's hard, and you get all out of breath... but you can play. Of course you have to have a good stick and a good ball. Maybe that's why he wouldn't play. He probably doesn't have either."
My mother wasn't stupid. She could tell by the emphasis on words that Jill was doing something. And since I was the only other person around she jumped to exactly the right conclusion.
"Don't tease your brother, dear," she said, heading on down the hall. "Boys are sensitive about things like that. Be nice."