Chapter 1
Misty was having trouble getting to sleep. She was restless, too warm, itching. She lay on her back, the covers thrown back, her shortie nightgown barely down over her crotch. Her crotch. That was the trouble. She itched down there and she didn't know why.
She sighed and looked toward the window, where a vague glow from the street created shadows on the ceiling and walls. Occasionally she heard a car hiss by and she realized it was late. She stirred again and again her hands moved toward her crotch. No, that wasn't right. She wasn't going to get into that scene again.
Technically, Misty was a virgin. In her seventeen years she'd done everything short of fucking with her various boyfriends. She'd played all sorts of sex games with them so that their hands had roamed her body. She'd felt their cocks and balls through their jeans, but she hadn't actually seem them exposed.
As her girlfriends had done, Misty had on occasion played games with herself when the tension became unbearable. The tension came more often lately as her body reached full maturity and demanded the satisfaction that only fucking can provide.
Misty simply had refused to meet those demands. She wasn't that sort of a girl, for one thing. She hadn't been raised by her strict parents to become a tart, and that is the way she thought of girls who allowed themselves to be screwed by the boys at school. Plenty of them had already done it, but she was among the rare holdouts.
There were other reasons for Misty's chastity She was naive, thinking that she had to "save" herself for the right young man. She also was afraid. She didn't know about sex and she didn't want to be hurt in any way. If she were to be fucked, she believed, in some way she would be changed. Others would see the change in her and know that she had "gone all the way."
Such abstention meant that Misty had to resort to artificial measures for relief, as so many of her friends were doing-or had done before they went out and engaged in the real thing. She had her share of candles, broom handles and other equipment hidden about her room and she used them when the going became too much to bear.
She realized that doing this was almost as bad as being screwed by a real cock, but at least this way her secret was kept, and, technically, she remained a virgin. This night she resolved that she was finished with such childish measures. After all, Jerry was home now and he had a habit of popping in and out of her room at will. God, if he were to catch her it would be awful. He'd never let her forget it.
Still, Jerry was different now. He was twenty, grown up, a veteran of three years in the Navy and heaven only knew what he'd done in all those foreign ports. He'd come home to his family as a man, a brisk young man ready to go back to college and make something of himself. He was almost six feet tall and he'd filled out beautifully, even though he still had the towheaded look of a teen-ager.
Jerry. She wondered what he was doing at that moment. He'd been going out almost every night since he'd come home to stay and bought his used Pinto. He and the little car were on the go. He told Misty and their parents that he was out almost every night for a "few beers with the boys."
But what was Jerry really doing? After all, he had girlfriends in town. Even Sally, Misty's best friend, had been out with Jerry, but she'd reported that nothing had happened. Misty didn't know whether to believe her friend. After all, she couldn't tell all and remain faithful to the code, not when the man was her best friend's brother. Still, Jerry probably wouldn't get serious about Sally simply because she was a security risk. Sally and Misty were too close and there were few secrets between them.
If Jerry was playing around, he was mature enough not to brag about it. He'd learned in the Navy to keep his mouth shut about his sexual exploits, Misty imagined. That way nobody got into trouble and the competition wasn't let in on a good thing.
Misty sighed again, squirming. Yes, it was so good to have Jerry home again. They'd always been close, even though he'd always called her "kid" because she was younger, smaller, more vulnerable. Many times he had defended her when she'd been in peril, like when older boys had discovered her ripening body and wanted to put their hands on her, get her behind the school gym, anywhere where they could do even more. Jerry had told them to back off and Misty had grown up with her virginity intact.
In fact, Jerry had been defending a sweet and ripe target, because Misty had a great deal to offer the first young man who scored with her. She was rather tall, blonde with blue eyes that could be icy or like a heated sauna, and with a willowy figure similar to her mother's. The two women often were taken for sisters because Mrs. Sommer, not yet forty, had kept her blonde and blue-eyed looks in face and figure.
Misty's body was ripe for the picking. Her hips had assumed mature womanly curves, her legs were long and straight with firm, tanned California-bikini thighs, her shoulders were even more tanned, soft and round, and her breasts were full with the firmness of youth. There was no sag to her body and her nipples had that fresh pink virginal look, as though they never had been touched by human hands-although they had, once or twice.
That ripe body was giving Misty a great deal of trouble now. She wanted desperately for something to happen, anything to ease her restlessness so that she could get some rest. The itching was getting worse and if she couldn't control it she'd be using her finger inside her cunt again, and she didn't want to get back into that scene. She blinked as she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling where the shadows played, moved by the trees outside.
It was summer and it was warm. Misty and her friends spent their days at the beach, romping in their bikinis, their golden bodies becoming firm and strong, more ready for the challenges of a mature sex life than most of the girls realized. Misty was considered more beautiful than most of her friends and she realized this. Actually, she was lusted after by more young men than any girl in the neighborhood, simply because she was the most perfectly developed. But Misty was not a conceited young woman. She had been raised to be a good girl, a modest girl, one who did not parade about showing off her charms, putting down her less well-endowed friends.
Again her sigh broke the stillness of her bedroom, but a moment later another sound came to her ears. It came from outside and it was a sound she already recognized, even though she'd only heard it for the last week or so. It was the sound of Jerry's little car, purring into the driveway and then dying as he turned off the ignition.
She lay quietly, except for the itching, listening as she heard the door click shut as softly as her brother could close it. There was nothing until she heard footsteps on the stairs. He'd let himself in the rear of the house, through the kitchen and across the front rooms to the steps. He knew the house well in blackness, even though he'd been home only about ten days after being so long away. After all, it was the house Jerry and Misty had known all of their lives.
She heard an occasional creaking in the corridor outside her room and then the sound stopped. She waited, knowing that he hadn't gone into his room. She held her breath when, a moment later, the sound of scratching came to her ears. He was touching her door. She half sat up, about to call out to him to come in, but she lay down again. What did he want at this hour?
After a moment her door opened and she lay quietly on the bed, her eyes half open, shielded by her lashes, in the half light. He crept across the room to the side of her bed where he stopped to look down into her face. He leaned close and she could see him peering intently at her.
"Misty?" he whispered.
She was about to open her eyes and speak, but something held her back. She remained as she was, quiet, pretending to be asleep. There was something in his voice that stopped her.
He leaned even closer and then his hands came up to touch her body. She felt his fingers on her shoulder. "Misty?" he repeated.
Her only response was to breathe deeply, as though deeply in dreamland. She felt her body tense, however, and a tingling started. It was added to the itch which had been bothering her earlier. God, what was wrong with her? Why was she so switched on, like there were bells going off from her head to her toes?
Jerry's hand slid from her shoulder to her throat and, as she fought to remain breathing naturally, the fingers came down between her breasts. She couldn't repress a sigh of vague surprise and delight. For a moment he stopped, on guard, but soon she was able to be silent and, presumably, fast asleep.
The hand was between her breasts, down inside the low neck of her nightgown. The other hand slid the gown over her shoulders and began to pull it down over her breasts. She felt the material raking across her nipples and the sensation was close to driving her out of her mind.
She caught her breath and again he paused. Again she settled down, moaning gently as though caught up in the heaven of a delightful dream. The nightgown came down over her breasts and she felt it being slid all the way to her waist. So, he was peering down at her breasts now, and through slitted eyes, she saw his face change. He looked eager and he actually licked his lips in anticipation.
Only with difficulty did Misty refrain from lifting her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and drawing him to herself. She lay on her back, her hands at her sides, her body giving an occasional small wiggle.
At last Jerry placed a hand flat on her breast, her right breast, his ringers and palm cupping its pear-shaped bulk and sinking gently into the golden flesh. She felt the heat of his hand on the tip of her sensitive nipple and again a small gasp escaped her lips. But she did not move as he gently pumped the breast. He caught the nipple between his fingers and pinched it gently.
The breast immediately began to swell, to burgeon, to nuzzle into his hand like a puppy seeking warmth and affection. She wormed her hips back and forth on the bed, her knees pumping gently. But then she made herself lie still once again. This was a first for them and Misty didn't want to frighten him off.
His hand left her breast, and for a moment, she was disappointed. Then his head came down and her brain did a series of rocket-like flare-ups as she felt his lips touch her other breast. She held her breath and her body arched up to meet his face as the mouth moved across the upper slope of the breast, down to the pink bud at its center. Oh, but her flesh was so tender and responsive there. The bud burst forth like a spring flower, popping erect as her entire breast swelled and the puckered pink skin tightened.
The sizzling arcs of joy rocketed all through her body so that even her toes curled. Misty rolled her hands into fists as she pressed them against the bed. She kept her eyes hooded and she lay as quietly as she was able, but it was not easy. She was on fire now, praying that she would do nothing to frighten her brother away.
Her brother. Yes, it was her own flesh and blood doing this thing to her. Was it so terrible? She didn't know. She did know that they both were enjoying themselves and that no one was being hurt. But were they sinning? She didn't know that either. She did know that her body was alive, more alive than it ever had been before in her life. No boy ever had kissed her nipples, and it was a glorious feeling.
The mouth moved to her other nipple and, as he kissed her there, his hands moved to her hips. There he gathered folds of her skimpy nightgown and began to pull, working it even lower on her body. Soon she was arching her back again, moving her bottom up off the sheet so that he could gently pull the gown all the way down. She felt it drag across her belly, her navel and then down over her ass and crotch.
She realized he was able to see everything now as the gown slithered down her thighs, her lower legs and finally over her feet. The nightgown was gone completely and she was naked before his gaze. The tingling was zinging through her like bolts of electricity now as her body awaited his next move.
Misty's every muscle and every nerve awaited his next move, too. She was ready, but still she dared not wake up in case he would be spooked and run away. After all, he might not be doing this if he thought she were awake. There was a pause as he apparently was taking his time looking her over.
Then he began to whisper. "God, sis, you do have a body that would stop a speeding train. Look at those tits. I've seen my share in the Navy, but never a set of jugs like your homegrown pair. I'd like to keep them in a bottle in my room so I could play with them any time I wanted."
Misty purred, her body melting at his soothing words. Oh, how good they made her feel! Her big brother, after all the years of teasing her, of protecting her, of being her friend, finally was looking on her as a woman.
"And your pussy. I wonder if you're still a virgin...."
Yes, yes, she wanted to shout. Fm a virgin, Jerry, and Fm yours. No other man ever has had his hands down there, much less his cock. You'll find out, Fm pure.
"God, you really are a blonde bomber. Your snatch looks like it's hidden under a pile of gold coins, all those curly little ringlets of golden hair that I'd like to pluck out with my teeth."
Start plucking, Misty wanted to scream into his face, a thin mist of perspiration beginning to make her body damp and shining. She was writhing more now, unable to remain still as his lips whispered against her nipples.
Then his hands were busy again, sliding down to her smooth belly, which she first sucked in at his touch and then allowed to swell into his pressing fingers. She loved the feel of his hands. They seemed to know exactly what they were doing, to know exactly where they wanted to go.
He paused at her navel, slipping his forefinger into its depths, exploring, and then coming out again. His hand pulled away and for a moment she was disappointed. But then his lips left her breasts, kissing over the full lower slopes of her mounds. She gasped as his mouth moved over fresh territory toward her lower body.
Soon his mouth was following the trail blazed by his ringers, kissing the slightly convex smooth flesh of her belly and then stopping at her belly button. His tongue came out and rasped into the tiny hole, sending shudders ripping into her vitals. For an instant Misty lifted her hands, almost cradling her hands around his head to draw him into her belly. But she made herself put them back on the bed where they belonged.
He did not see, so that she was not given away in her sleeping act. Instead, he was busily kissing her, going beyond her belly button, down over the lower slope of her stomach until his nose encountered the first golden hairs of her crotch. She felt his warm breath disturb her fair forest and immediately she began to secrete.
She smelled the musky scent first and then she felt the slickness start between her legs. Her pussy lips were swelling, lubricating themselves for whatever fate might have in store. She sighed and her hips moved up from the bed. She pressed her crotch toward his face, but he lifted his head to stare up the length of the body.
She could see him looking up toward her face, through the space between her jutting breasts. So she made her body lie flat on the bed once again. She didn't want to confront him as a wide-awake sister, one who would remember all this tomorrow morning and perhaps make trouble in the family. Soon he apparently was convinced that she remained deeply in sleep, disturbed only by erotic dreams, perhaps.
She held her breath as his face turned itself back to her crotch, his nose worming among her hairs freely now. He was kissing her, too, making her incredibly tender flesh jump and pucker with each kiss. Soon he was down just an inch above the place where her lips were joined, where that incredibly vital fold of pussy flesh was waiting for him like a juicy taco to be consumed on the spot.
Misty felt a sob of joy well in her throat, but she forced it back as she knew he was going all the way. His mouth was on her cunt at last and she waited, knowing that where his mouth was his tongue was sure to follow.