Chapter 3
Next morning Jack tapped, then banged on his sister's door. At last he pushed it open and stuck his head in. She and Dawn occupied the bed, and both were completely under the covers.
"Sandra!"
"Grummmmph?"
"Church in forty minutes," he said, and listened to the groans of both girls.
But both Jack and Sandra had faithfully promised their parents to be good Christians and go to Church, and they did. It was important to Mr. and Mrs. Huffman that their children be seen there-which of course was why many others were there.
After services Jack dropped Sandra off to whomp up a big lunch-breakfast combination while he drove over to Dan Stephens'. As fast as he could and with as little conversation as possible, Jack borrowed Dan's tape recorder. It was the same model as his. He hurried home.
by the time Sandra bawled up the steps that food was about ready and he'd better get the table set, brother dear, Jack had made a second tape of last night's activities in the Huffman basement. He hid it, went downstairs, and he and Sandra ate bacon and scrambled eggs and toast and coffee and preserves while making Smalltalk-very cagy Smalltalk about last night.
They cleaned up together, and once Jack swatted her butt where her skirt was stretched fetchingly tightly across the twinned ovals.
"Hey, watch it, big brother!" she cried, after squealing and skipping a step. "I'm your baby sister, not one of your easy girl friends!"
"Sorry, babe. You do have a fine ass, though! You're really developing into a hell of a woman, Sandra."
"Jack!" But she grinned. "Thanks, I guess."
He nodded. "Yes sir, baby sister. You're filling out into a regular Venus!"
She did a pretty good job of covering up her shock, but he acted dumb, bending over the silverware drawer. He poked at her rump with a fork.
"Hey! Stop that! Now you are my brother. You better just cool all this stuff unless you want Mom and Dad to get a mind-blowing report on you, brother dear!"
"Hey, that reminds me," Jack said. "I got a new tape yesterday. Good quality, and really fine performances."
She looked up grinning. "Who is it? What is it, Jack?"
He laughed. "You'll see, Sandy. You can listen to it as soon's we finish up here. Believe me, baby sister-it will blow your damned mind!"
She giggled and started sloshing water. "Snap it up then. I can hardly wait to hear it. Is it, umm ... Bread?"
"Nope, and no more guesses. Just wait and see. I mean hear."
It'll blow your god damned hot-pantsed little mind wide open, sister darling, he thought, and she looked up when he suddenly laughed aloud. He damned near dropped a plate.
Hurrying, she was soon letting the water out of the sink and swooping the dishcloth around it. She looked at him with a smile-glowing face.
"Okay, Jack, where's the tape?"
"Witch, you are fast," he said, though he'd been deliberately slow. "Tape's in the machine. Machine's on my bed."
Laughing, she threw the wadded-up washcloth at him and took off at a gallop. He heard her stomping up the steps and then entering his room.
Calmly, grinning, he looked at his watch.
I wonder, he thought, if she'll let out a scream when she first hears herself, or if she'll faint, or turn it off and lock herself in her room, or go into shock, or ... what?
What she did was astonish him, and teach him respect. He knew the tape was playing. But he didn't hear another sound. She was sitting there listening to the whole thing! He waited, checking his watch from time to time. He knew how long that tape would run, and he waited until it was just a few seconds from running out.
Then Jack walked upstairs and entered his room.
Sandra and the tape-player/recorder sat on his bed. The little door in the top of the machine was sprung open. The tape was not in it. His sister was facing the door. She stared into his eyes as he came in, and he was surprised that she did not look terrified, horrified-not even fearful. She did look older, and very tired.
Shattered, he thought, and again there welled within him that strange little excitement, the satisfaction at another's distress.
"Jack ... what do you plan to do with that tape?"
He looked meaningfully at the empty recorder player. "The question is, what did you do with it?"
She continued to gaze steadily at him. She continued to look weary, too. Not shattered, he mused. Just beaten down. Trapped out in the open, and without a hole to crawl into.
He shrugged. "You took it out and hid it. It's either in your clothes or here in my room. But, Sandy, it doesn't matter. I know."
She nodded. Without taking her eyes off his, she licked her dry lips and nodded.
"Look." He pointed at his little desk against the wall. He'd had that desk since he was twelve. She looked. On it rested Dan's cassette machine. She returned her gaze to his face.
"When I dropped you off here after church, I went over and borrowed that from Dan. While you were finishing up fixing breakfast, I was up here making another tape. I have two, Sandra. It doesn't matter, because here we are, and I know, but ... you didn't think I'd leave you alone with that tape if I didn't have another, do you?"
She continued to stare at him. She blinked. She was very pretty, his sister. Very dark eyes, eyes of a deep brown that could either be melting chocolate or some rock-hard, glinting substance, like glossy brown marbles. Long black hair with a bit of brown in it and a nice wave, too; the natural waviness of her hair was one of the joys of her life. She had never touched it with an iron, when the other girls were working so desperately to make theirs perfectly straight. Nor did she have it cut straight across the back the way nearly everyone else was.
She still wore the gold-trimmed dress of royal blue that she'd worn to church, along with hose. She had kicked off her shoes in the kitchen and they were still down there.
Her face was rather angular, with definite jawline and cheekbones, rather deeply set eyes, and a nose that was quite straight and slightly long. Her mouth, which was quite wide, was without makeup. Her lips were rather thin, and the dimple in her chin was a depression that might just house the tip of his little finger.
She was chestier than her brother, who was six feet tall and slim. The royal blue dress was stretched taut across her breasts and her thighs. They were good thighs. Hers was, in fact, a good body and a nice face. Sure, she was his sister and he had seen her. But he had never noticed until last night how sexy she was.
She sighed. "Where's the other tape?"
Jack chuckled.
With another sigh, she pulled her skirt higher, reached up under, fumbled for a moment with a look of concentration on her face, and withdrew the first tape he had made. She held it out to him a moment. When he made no move to take it from her, she dropped it on the bed.
"Want to listen to it again?"
She shook her head. "No. What are you going to do with it?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" She cocked her head on one side. He saw her shoulders sag as relief ran through her.
Jack stepped sideways and sat down on the small straight chair beside the door. Gazing at her steadily, he told her.
"That tape has a bunch of names on it. Six boys whose fathers would blow a gasket. Six girls whose fathers and mothers would blow a lot more than that. You recited every name, and I recognized all of them but one. The redhead-but he plays balk doesn't he?"
She nodded without otherwise replying. Her eyes were fastened on his.
"All right. Lady Venus, and the Sisterhood of Venus. A group of six high school girls with a secret little club-and the initiation is sex. And last night's initiation was followed not only by a sex party, but by smoking grass. That tends to blow parents' minds, too. I saw it all, and I recorded it all. I can describe it in detail."
"Please don't."
"All right."
"You said you weren't going to do anything with the tape. Can I destroy it then?" Her hand curled around it.
He shrugged. "I told you I have another. I really have. I can make dozens, if I want." He smiled fleetingly. "Or an even dozen. One for the Huffmans and the Gerrolds and the Caslers and the Egberses and the Whitesides ... but you get the idea."
Sandra nodded in silence. And waited.
He waved a hand. "Well, what are you waiting for, baby sister?"
"You know. I'm waiting for you to tell me what you are going to do, or what you want."
"I'll bet you know."
Sandra sighed, and his eyes dropped to her breasts.
"Yeah. All at once or one at a time?"
"One at a time," he smiled. "My girls. Dawn, and Laura, and titsy Bonnie, and Eunice, and Mary, and...." He let it trail off.
She sat there staring at him. "And you won't tell?"
"Nope." He shook his head.
"They'll all do exactly what you say. Anything you want."
"You'll all do exactly what I say. Anything I want."
"Oh, Jack."
"Yeah. You can start by stripping." She continued to stare at him. "Now," he added.
She sat there staring at him a few seconds longer. Then she stood up. Still her eyes probed his.
Then she bent and gripped the hem of her dress in both hands. She pulled it up, remembered that in her consternation or confusion or perhaps excitement she had forgotten the zipper in back. She twisted back to unhook the catch, then run the zipper down, and then she had to hoist her skirt again.
Damned good thighs, he mused, and decided to say it aloud. "You've got damned good thighs."
"You saw them last night," she said, pulling the dress up. She wore a pair of opaque pink panties and a white garter belt. He watched her pretty little stomach reveal itself to his fixed eyes, watched the softly coiled navel lengthen into a sexy slit as she stretched. The dress caught at the shelf formed by her pink bra, then went on up. Her breasts juddered a little. The bra was nothing much, just a holder.
He raised his eyes as she dropped the dress to the floor. Her hair was mussed. It was sexier that way. And her eyes seemed to smolder, as if they glowed slightly with a small fire behind their dark depths. They were staring at him.
"Take the bra off, Sandy. The usual way, and flip it off and then bend a little forward. I want to see your pretty titties dance."
"Do you think they're pretty?"
"You know damned well they are."
She almost smiled. Not quite. Her breasts strained into the cups of the brassiere and mounded above them and pressed together in the middle as she put her hands behind her to unfasten the strap. It came free. The back strap swung down in two halves. She crossed her arms over to strip off the bra's-shoulder straps. They fell down her arms, and then, just as he had ordained, she freed her breasts with a sudden jerking flip of the bra.
Warm thrusting breasts, pale pink with pink tips, sprang free and bobbed wildly before settling down to jut imperiously before her. Then she bent quickly, as he'd said, so that they swung out and down, changing from slightly elongated half globes into long pointed ovals.
"You have beautiful tits, honey," he told her.
She smiled, just a little. "Thank you. I know."
"Keep the hose and the garter belt. They're sexy. Get those pants off."
She straightened and slipped her thumbs into the elastic top of her pink panties, at either hip. "Jack ... we ... you're my brother."
"It's a damned good thing, too," he told her. "Someone else might try to blackmail you. All I want is some fucking and sucking. From all of you. All of you. Let's see the bush, Sandra."
She showed him her bush, bulgy and glossily black-furred, and suddenly he narrowed his eyes and bent a little forward. He stared at her cunt. The lips were visible, and the slit, despite the blackness of its fleece. Slowly his eyes rose to hers.
She was standing there gazing at him, not blushing.
A hell of a girl, my sister, he thought, not without admiration.
"You trim your fur there?" She nodded.
He smiled. "Pretty. Sexy as hell. I'd like to watch that sometime."
She sighed without moving. Her cunt seemed to stare at him. She made no effort to conceal it. Her legs remained slightly parted, sexily stockinged and with the white garter belt and its straps framing the light, downy foliage of her cleft.
"Whatever you want, Jack."
"Uh-huh. I want you to undress me," he said, standing.
She came to him, gasped when he palmed her loose, jiggling jugs, then unbuttoned his shirt. Unbuckled his belt. Zipped his pants down. Opened the top button. Stripped them down; he lifted one foot, then the other. She rose again to wipe open his unbuttoned shirt, and he felt her breath against it as she helped him slide the sleeves down his arms. Suddenly he cupped a hand behind her head.
"Kiss each nipple. Lick, fast, and with pressure."
She did exactly as he instructed. Her tongue moved blurrily over his nipples, small and tight and only just beginning to be lightly surrounded with hair that would be long and curling and black. By the time she finished, his prick was a hard painful bulge in his shorts. He released her head. "My shorts, Sandra."
"Yes," she breathed, and sank into a squat as she peeled them down. She watched the emergence of his pubic hair, then the tip of his standing cock. The sleek velvety flesh, startlingly pink, was stretched very taut over the swollen crown and already the slitted tip glistened moistly.
Suddenly he remembered Sandra's words of last night, to Mary. They flamed into his brain as though he himself were a tape recorder. He said them now, in a quiet, steady voice.
"Dry its tears," he said. "Lick them away, girl."
She had pulled his shorts down to just above his knees. She left them there, moving her face into his crotch. He felt her breath first, riffling the hairs of his groin. Then her soft wet tongue came slicking out He fought to remain perfectly still as he stood there and looked down at her, licking the glistening droplet of warm juice off the end of his pulsing cock. She let him see her lips pressing together, slipping his pre-seminal fluid into her mouth.
"Is it good?"
She replied in a whisper, hissing, without looking up. "Yesss."
"Do you like cock, Sandra?"
"Yessss!"
"Get the shorts off."
She dragged them swiftly down and he lifted his feet again, one at a time, and he was naked. He liked being barefoot, and had stripped off both shoes and socks as soon as he'd entered this room with Dan's tape machine, before their meal.
"Just stay there," Jack said, thinking back, trying to remember their exact words. "Suck the loving phallus, eat the meat, suck cock."
Without a word, and without hesitation, she slipped her lips over the swollen bulb. It felt wonderful, the soft-skinned pressure of those warm, moist lips all around the enlarged head of his eager prick.
"Get some head around it," he said, just as he'd thought last night while Mary was performing this same rite.
She really surprised him, then, by sliding her face steadily forward. More and more thick, reddish prick vanished into her mouth and expanded the circle of her lips. Staring down at her, his eyes bulged. What could his sister take? How experienced was the lovely kneeling Lady Venus?
He watched another inch go out of sight. She had about five inches in her face, now. Her hands slipped sexily around his thighs, holding herself steadily with a light grip. She had paused. But just as he started to reach for her head, she moved it forward a bit more. Her nose was very close to the curling bush at the base of his belly. Very close.
He knew exactly what he had, erect. Limp, his cock ranged anywhere from a strangely stubby inch or so to about five. Erect and fierce and longing for release, it measured just a hair or two past the 6 1/2 inch mark on the tape measure. About a month ago Dan had read an article that indicated the averge size of an erect penis was somewhere around six inches, and he and Jack had both measured.
Now his sister was wearing all but about three-quarters of an inch of that cock in her face.
"Is that all you can get in?"
She made a gasping, throaty sound, then nodded. Her forehead touched his belly. She started to slide her face back.
He reached down, caught her hair in his hands, gripping it on either side of her face, and jerked.
"Ngah!"
Her nose rammed into his pubic hair. She pushed against his thighs with her hands. He held her there for a few seconds, then let go. She backed her face off his cock, fast, and knelt there with her head down, gasping.
He stroked her glossy, wavy hair. "You know what? I just realized what I've got I've got me a slave. A sex slave!"
She tilted her head back, rolling her eyes up to meet his gaze.
Her eyes looked like melted chocolate.
Good god, he thought I really do have a sex slave! She really is crazy about cock!
"You want it stuffed up your pussy," he asked, "or do you want to suck it off?"
She closed her eyes in a long blink, opened them to look at him, then looked down. "Do I have to answer?"
Reveling his newfound power, he twisted her hair a little. "Yes."
She nodded. She said, "Yes."
"Yes? Yes what?"
"I ... I want to suck it off, and I want it stuffed up my ... my pussy."
With one hand in her hair, he pushed his high-standing hard-on down to her face. Her words had sent flaring jolts like electrical current leaping all through his genitals and his guts.
"Eat"
She ate. She licked around and around its hard length with her curling slathering tongue, laving him with her saliva. Her hands tightened on his thighs. He quivered under a sudden hot desire to ram her with it and fuck her mouth like a cunt until her eyes bulged and her lips cracked.
He leaned a bit forward. Her soft pink lips parted before the pressure of the prodding organ. She accepted the slick inward thrust of it until more than half his cock was out of sight in the sweet shelter of his sister's face.
She sighed, feeling the strength of the demanding, ardent penis beating within her hot wet mouth.
She tightened her oral muscles, pressing the warm, moist flesh of her mouth around his cock, stirring the thick flesh until it pushed farther and then farther still into her face, seeking her throat to gag her and spew out its hot passion.
He watched her, mouthing his cock. He felt her tongue, slipping and slithering wetly over it. It caressed his pulsing sexual flesh gently, wetly, lovingly.
Her head moved. She began sliding her mouth up and down the thick red pole that stretched it.
Her hands clutched and pulled at his upper thighs.
Her soft breasts seemed to prod willfully at his legs, just a little lower down. Looking down her back, past the waving, glossy hair, he saw the heart shape of her butt, rounded and spread and opened by her kneeling position.
The grip of her mouth tightened over his penis. She squirmed her lips softly over the flesh just behind the head, then pushed down the shaft again. She pulled at it with lips and sucking throat until he gasped and his hard swollen length throbbed and jerked inside her face.
Her hand slipped into the hair of his groin and through it, smoothing and caressing. He trembled and stared down at the top of her head.
She nibbled and sucked and licked, and sucked, and sucked.
Bobbing her head and moaning, she went after his sperm with a startlingly expert and enthusiastic fervor. Her teeth clamped teasingly around the great length of meat that filled her mouth and jutted from her face.
It began as a curling, tightening, writhing sensation deep in his testicles. They seemed to expand, to grow taut and stretch the skin of their elastic bag. Heat sizzled upward and his belly tightened. His cock throbbed and felt as big as his arm.
Then he jetted a torrent of semen into her face.
A river of lust pulsed into her mouth, spurting forcefully and filling it to the bursting point. She made a little moaning cooing sound and her cheeks sank far in as she sucked, hard.
She gulped his come greedily down in quick swallows, clutching the throbbing shaft firmly between her lips. Her throat worked and her hands gouged into the flesh of his thighs. He shivered, throughout his body, and felt suddenly weak as his balls emptied themselves.
She did not relax her oral grip until she had pulled from him all the warm liquid he had stored within his scrotum. Then, slowly, she let her mouth slide back up and off the already softening staff, and when she turned her melting-chocolate eyes up to him again, he saw a trickle of his semen running down out of his sister's mouth and over her chin.