Chapter 1
It all started when Eva James had to stay ten minutes late in her last class and missed her regular bus. Everyone in Crest Junior High knew Eva, but this later bus, picking up kids from Echo Lane Junior High and Marquez Union High School had kids from all over. Thus, the three girls who sat just behind Eva didn't know her at all, so they didn't mind talking about her brother.
It made her furious. She was only a year older than Jodie, but she had always been his champion. Even now, when he had suddenly shot up until he looked a whole lot older than his twelve years, and was nearly a head taller than Eva, she still felt the same way about him. Protective, responsible. He was still her "little brother."
But the girls behind her didn't think he was so little. They were showing off, of course. Like Eva, they were only about thirteen, possibly closer to fourteen than Eva was. But they had tits like seniors, and they were conscious of their sex, and they liked to talk about it. And, being young and silly, they were still playing boy-and-girl games, made up mainly of pretense and imagination.
"Hey, did you see those kids by the pool?" the dark one with the long hair asked. "That Joe James, especially. What's with him? How come he's still in junior high?"
"He's on the swimming team for the District," the middle girl, the chubby blonde who, now that she was on the bus and away from school, had unbuttoned her blouse until her big, blue-veined tits almost seemed ready to pop out. She giggled. "Maybe he missed a grade or two, somewhere. But he's big, all right."
It was one of those rather difficult days for Eva. She had "been a woman," as the girls said, for two years. Girls mature swiftly around Marquez and Oak Hill and Sand Castle-in fact, in all of that semi-tropical climate. It's not uncommon for girls to start having menstrual periods at eleven. Nor for boys to grow up quickly. Eva could have turned on the three girls and told them that Joe took after his father, who had been a football star at Marquez Union High, and at Stanford. But she was afraid she might lose her temper and start crying. And she wouldn't give those idiots that satisfaction.
It's bad enough to be small for your age, and feel that your breasts belong on a ten-year-old girl, and have freckles. And to wear glasses. But to 'ose her temper and cry before these three nitwits, that would really be painful. And this was one of those tough days.
The day was hot and so was the bus. Because it was the last one, it always waited a while at each school to get the stragglers. And the vinyl seat had made it feel like Eva's sweet and tender little butt was mashed into a frying pan, because the seat she got was on the sunny side. And, because it was so close to her period, and she still wasn't calendar-regular yet, she had to wear a tampon in her sweet, juicy little cunt just to be extremely certain she wouldn't suddenly begin to flow. What a disaster that would be! Not that she didn't really love the idea of being grown up enough to ache and throb and itch and have her neat little pussy swell up, once a month. But she didn't like-couldn't stand-having the world know it from the seat of her short little skirt.
Therefore, while the comments of the girls made her just a little angry, she didn't want to get upset and maybe bring her period on ahead of time. She sort of liked this feeling.
She could never remember a time when her little cunnie hadn't felt good when it was tickled in the right place. And its lips had fattened and become sweeter and more mature long before she had even the first hair on them. And, just because she was a very small girl, without the obvious, opulent maturation of most other girls in Crest Junior High, no boy had ever asked her for a date, not even the youngest and most bashful. You'd think they'd know I'm bashful, too, and ask me, Eva thought.
"I don't care how old he is, or why he's not in senior high," the third girl, a tall blonde with a beautiful, slender body and provocatively long, full breasts said. "He can dip his wick in my oil any time! Wow! Did you see...." and her voice went down to a lower pitch so that Eva couldn't hear the world. But she knew, of course, what the girl meant. Even if she had learned most of what she knew about sex from listening to other girls in the locker room. Or from books. Daddy's books, the ones that he thought were so securely hidden.
The thought made her want to giggle, too. And it did make her squirm. That hot, smooth vinyl seat, feeling like some huge, warm mouth on her lovable little pussy, was getting to her. She didn't weigh much, but it was enough to press her sensitive, thick cuntlips together, mashing her itchy, demanding clitoris between them.
The first girl laughed. "When he came up out of that water, you could see every inch of his cock," she said very plainly. "I know guys over at Palomino College who don't have any more. Wow! I wish I went to Crest!" She paused and looked wistful, her firm-fleshed young body straining at her clothes. "Well, you can bet on one thing-that kid'll never get pimples from playing with himself. A guy with looks like his, and a jock like his, he'll always have some chick ready to milk it out of him!"
Once again, that feeling that the super-warm cushion was a big, smooth mouth covering her cunt, lovingly licking away at her compressed little pussy, made Eva squirm. It felt so good! And the picture of her beloved brother, never having to masturbate-that made her feel even better.
Until she had a sudden thought.
What did this trio from Echo Lane know about her Jodie? He was only twelve. Big for his age, good looking, maybe he had that big a penis. Have I seen it? Eva asked herself. But I'm so dumb about such things, I wouldn't know if it was big or not. She thought of the average girl her age, and of how many boys' cocks they had handled, played with. Even let the guy stick it in. She knew that, from keeping her ears open and her mouth shut. And, being a modern girl, she knew that a lot of the girls, at least half of the ones she knew at Crest, would just as soon suck a guy off. If he would do something for them. She had heard a girl named Myrtis, a big, good humored brunette in her Science class, say: "I don't mind giving a guy a blow job. It's kind of nice. Sweet, you know what I mean? Like he was your little boy. But shit! I've got feelings, too. He's going to have to go down on me if I go down on him!"
So that was the phrase, to "go down" on someone meant you kissed, or sucked on, or whatever else, on their genitals. And now she had a quick flash of why she felt that the cushion was a kissing mouth as she sat on it, pressed her firm little butt on it, with her weight pushing her sensitive, hair-triggered pussy on it.
It was that full-color closeup in one of daddy's hidden books. Of a lady, a very well built lady, lying on her back with her legs drawn back and wide open. Her pussy had brown hair with auburn highlights, just like the rather short, softly curled hair on Eva's own tidy little snatch. The smoothness of the inner lips showed plainly, for the position, plus a guy's thumbs, had her cunt wide open. Pink, with surface veins in a spidery pattern of dark red. And a glistening shine that showed the lady was hot inside.
Eva knew. She couldn't keep from playing with her pussy sometimes, when the inner fever really dragged at the muscles inside her youthful snatch. Nibbling at her fingers when she shoved them in. Watching in the mirror, her own thighs back, her own thumbs holding the thick, hairy lips apart. She knew that shine of cum juice.
The bus stopped with a smooth, sure pressure on the brakes, and Eva could have screamed. She hadn't been watching, and the stop made her slide on the vinyl surface. I've got to stand up, she thought desperately. I'm about to shoot my wad! It was all right at home, either in her own room, on her bed in front of her mirror, or in the bathroom. Then she could grunt and let out little screams of joy.
She turned her thoughts to her beloved brother.
Those girls didn't know he was only twelve. Kids that age didn't get pimples. Not from self abuse. Or did they? She was masturbating long before she was twelve. And getting off, too. When she had only a tiny semicircle of short, fine hair above her sweet little slit. So of course Jodie might be "playing with himself," as that girl had called it. Oh, dear! Her little brother! She could remember, rather well, how they had bathed together until she was eight and he was seven. And how hard his little peter used to get. And how she had played with it, just because they loved each other, and it was a sweet, warm sensation, her holding his dick, and him groping inside her tender little love-lips, inside her babyish cunt. But had it been so babyish, after all? She could still remember how marvelous it felt, and of how runny and sticky her little slot would be long after they had finished their bath and dried off.
Well, thinking about those old times was fun but kind of sad, too. They hadn't understood when their mom-Joe's mom, really, and Eva's stepmother-had made them stop bathing together. And sleeping in the same room. Eva remembered how adventurous it had been, having her own room, but she missed the warmth of being in the same room with Jodie, of crawling into bed with him on cold winter nights. It made her shiver now, on this hot day, because all the heat of the day, as well as all the heat of her healthy, firm young body seemed to concentrate in that one itchy place, deep up inside her girlish pussy.
The girls behind her were talking again. "It sure gives me the shivering hots to see a guy like that," the chubby blonde said. "Of course, he's bound to be going steady, but if I ever catch him at a dance, I'm gonna get him outside and feel that prick of his. Wow! I know how a chick gets raped, but how do you rape a guy?"
They all laughed, and Eva, coming up to her stop, stood up and looked back at the trio of hot young chickies. "Hello," she said sweetly. "Mary Winner, isn't it? And Trisha and Cindy? Nice to see you."
The three girls looked so stunned that, in some private well of humor, it struck Eva as funny. Girls like them, so bold, so popular, never noticed someone like her. They didn't care what they said, or who heard them, as long as it wasn't teachers. But now, recognizing the small brunette whose brother they had been verbally fucking, they were in shock. So Eva looked at them, moved toward the exit door, and turned back.
"And to hear you," she said.
After the door closed behind her, the three girls came out of it, giggling, red-faced, and the tall girl said, "God! That was the guy's sister, wasn't it? Wow! She sure got an earful." She fluffed her blouse so that she could get her hands under those long, full breasts, a delicately cunty feeling, and said, "Well, I don't care! Maybe she'll tell him I said I'd like to get it on with him." She was embarrassed at being caught talking about a guy where his sister could hear, but not at what she had said.
She scratched her lower belly, giggled, and said: "He can have me anywhere, any time."
"You took the words out of my mouth," Trisha said. Her own plump titties, already tanned down almost to their big nipples, lay heavily on her rib cage. She was warm and sweating between her full thighs, her young cunt, such a delicate coral pink inside, juicing up a storm.
The girl who had first spoken, Mary Winner, teasingly pinched one of Trisha's tits. "You mean, if Cindy had said 'cock' she'd have taken the words out of your mouth."
The three of them howled with laughter, watching little Eva walking along so carefully, as the bus pulled away.
"You know," the cuddly blonde said thoughtfully, "that kid's all right. She's cool. And she may be a little shrimp, but look at the legs on her. My brother'd like to get a crack at her. He says that small, quiet types can really ball a guy." And the three friends, each smiling at their own thoughts, changed the subject.
It wasn't far to her home. Couple of blocks, turn right three houses. The James home had been there a long time. The lot was big, and the old trees, planted long before Eva's dad was even born, seemed to make the entire place one of shade and calm and beauty. But to Eva, the important thing was to get upstairs, to her room, or to the hall bathroom. She had such a blazing need to play with her juicy, spasming cunt that she wanted to run, but was afraid the rub of cuntlip on cuntlip would make her cum right there in the yard. "I could do it, too, right here," she said aloud, laughing.
She began to undress as soon as she got in the front door. Her books were tossed in a big chair, her blouse, pulled over her head, draped on the stairway, her short skirt dropped at the head of the stairs.
She stopped in the big, old-fashioned hall bathroom, with all its white and pink tile, and turned on warm water in the tub. It was wonderful to sit cross-legged in warm water, then turn the hot water full on, once you were holding your outer lips apart. That hydra-cock, she called it, gave her the most delightful, the most delicate rising of heat and fuck-itch in her pussy. If she only had someone to talk to about it. Or to enjoy it with her. But how do you tell anyone that you let a stream of hot water pop-your nuts for you? It was a rich, wild thought, but far too much for a timid soul like little Eva James to entertain.
As she let the tub fill, she turned to the mirror and shucked off her bra. She moaned softly. "Why can't you be big and fat and stick way out?" she asked crossly. "Like that dummy we saw on the bus? Trisha Watshername." She squeezed the soft, firm little cones, making their dark-brown, coarse grained nipples stick out and swell. She tried to duck her head enough to take one of the nipples in her mouth, then laughed at herself.
"I'd have to have a neck like a swan to reach you," she said, then squeezed harder, shutting her eyes as the delightful pain lanced through the nubile flesh, running like summer lightning across her smooth, taut little belly, searing the trembling inner nerves, the softly gooey folds inside her girlish pussy.
She held them both firmly, pressing them hard against her chest, a delightful feeling. "Never mind," she said, secure in the silence of the empty house. "You're not big enough for one good bite, but you sure feel good."
She peeled off her white panties, looked at the crotch and saw they were clean, and shudderingly pulled the tampon from her tender little cunt. There was not a spot of dark blood on it, and she wrapped it in toilet paper before tossing it in the waste basket. It would be terrible if her father saw such a thing, proof that she was thinking of herself as grown up. She loved him, but she was still enough of a little girl to be afraid of him.
The tub was now comfortably full, enough so that her small body would bring the level almost to the overflow grating. She rubbed hastily between the lips of her pussy, groaning as her fingers caressed the soft and sensitive flesh, and raised the middle finger to her lips and nose. "I hope I'm not queer," she whispered, and then laughed out loud. "That book said that every girl ought to know the smell and taste of her genitals by the time she can menstruate," she said aloud. "I just wish someone else knew."
The quick thought flashed into her mind that her brother had more troubles than she. "I'm a girl," she whispered. "It's tougher, being a boy. Some girls after you all the time, and some ready to yell 'rape' if a boy so much as pinches their ass." She had heard this latter bit of wisdom as she sat in a toilet at school, a conversation between two girls she never saw and did not know.
She turned off the faucet in the tub and looked toward the door. Her clothes were scattered all over. It didn't matter if Jodie saw them. Poor Jodie, he was so polite that he'd never, ever walk in on her. She wished suddenly, fiercely, that he would. "Jodie, baby, I don't want you having to jerk off and get pimples," she murmured. "Or have those chickies from Echo Lane grabbing you. And giving you a blow job," she added, remember what that girl in school had called it.
But her father often stopped by the house when he was in this part of town. Marquez was a rambling little city, and many of his customers liked to have him deliver what they had ordered. Especially if it was something heavy, like a lawn mower.
She ran down the stairs and grabbed her blouse, then back to pick up her skirt, and dashed into the bathroom with her heart beating. She had guessed right, she thought. Her dad's pickup truck with "JAMES HARDWARE" on its sides had just pulled into the driveway.
She got into the tub quietly and pulled the old shower curtains together. Her dad always used the bathroom that was a part of his bedroom, but it was just as well to make sure. She wished now that she had simply run into her own room, taking her clothes. "But he never comes in here," she whispered, holding her small, lovely breasts against her ribs with her upper arms, quivering with excitement. Just to have dad in the house when she was here alone and naked, that was some kind of a feeling. Her warm and leaky little cunt, now spread against the smooth bottom of the tub and slicked and tenderized by the warm water, gave her small electric flashes of pleasure.
But she almost gave her hiding place away when the heavy footsteps of her father, running quickly up the stairs, beat their way right into the hall bathroom. And, in a moment, Eva knew why.
She heard the toilet seat being thrown back and a hard rattle of urine began in the bowl. Fascinated, and certainly not made any cooler in her cuntal parts by knowing her dad had his cock out, not six feet away, the girl opened the opaque cloth curtains just a crack. It was all she could do to keep from crying out.
The old bathroom had a big window, giving perfect light. Her dad, gasping and panting, was leaning over the toilet, one forearm on the wall, his other hand holding a cock so big that it frightened his tiny daughter. And she could see every detail plainly, the smooth, thick skin that came part way down the huge head, the purple smoothness of the head itself, a shadow of dark pubic hair as her dad seemed to pull at his big organ. And, of course, the thick, hot stream of yellow urine pouring out.
As the worst of the flow eased, and her father's piss stopped and started in slowing spurts, he rolled the thick skin all the way back. To the girl, it seemed she could smell the gamy fragrance that swelled into the room as he did so. But it was the loving care with which her dad pulled this skin back that made Eva gasp.
In spite of her ignorance on details of sex, she knew perfectly well how a boy or man jacked off. Was her dad doing that?
She was locked in a moment of angry frustration. She had had her brother's problems on her mind, but she also had her own sexual need. If she dared risk discovery, she could have simply put her fingers under her, between the smooth open lips of her young cunt, and rocked back and forth. Just once or twice, and she could have had the damndest orgasm of her life. Just looking at that big dick, throbbingly real, warm and smelly and sweet, with its drops of yellow piss still dripping into the toilet. She knew now that her dad had rushed in here because he couldn't hold it a second longer. If he had taken the extra few steps down the hall, into his room, into his private bath-good-bye, Charlie! Wet pants for daddy-o!
She wanted to giggle. She wanted to say, "Hi, dad!" and watch his face as he realized she was watching him piss and seeing his cock. But he'd kill me, she thought.
He went to the washbowl and mirror, his cock still out. She wondered if men washed their pricks after peeing. But he simply skinned it back again, once or twice, and again she wondered if he might be masturbating. But whey should he? An old guy like that, thirty-seven years old. He probably only had those hot books with the hot pictures because they were left over from when mom was still with them. Maybe mom had run off with that other guy because dad had lost his shot, couldn't screw any more.
She let her breath out when her dad suddenly wheeled and walked out. She heard him go down the steps, heard his footsteps as he went out and shut the big old door.
She rocked back and forth now, but her fiery lust had simmered away. She was philosophical about it. "We would both have died if he knew I was looking at his dick," she said aloud. "But, wow, what a jock! Like a mule!" It made her remember what that girl, the dark one, had said. When he had come up out of the pool. And she knew it was true. She had noticed darling Jodie's dickie. When his surfer trunks were wet-and all the kids wore surfers most of the time, wearing briefs only in competition-you could see it as plain as day.
"But I guess dad's is a lot bigger," she said, smiling as she soaped a washcloth and ran it over her young shoulders, over and around her smooth, sweetly alive titties.
She was fooling with the idea of taking a shower in dad's bathroom, so she could wash her hair, when the front door opened again. "He forgot something," she whispered, and reclosed the shower curtains, which she had opened.
But she was wrong, for it was Joe, her brother. Her Jodie. And once again, she remained silent, but this time as a joke. She would surprise him.
Instead, he surprised her.
As she watched, fascinated, using the same crack as when she had spied on her dad, Joe calmly opened his fly, unbuckled his belt, and stepped out of his slacks and shorts. And suddenly, in a split second, Eva was as hot as ever she had been before.
For darling Jodie's cock was sticking out and up, at a hard angle, and if it wasn't as big as their father's, at least it was big enough to prove he was his father's son. Its head was swollen so fat that its skin shone, and at the tip of it, a drop of clear fluid glistened, extended into a drop hanging on a thread, then dropped. Her brother, his sweet young face lighted with interest, caught it on a finger and gently rubbed it over the head of his cock, then ran squeezing fingers up his column to force out more of the crystal-clear juice, pulling the heavy, soft skin back so he could rub the slick stuff on his quivering penis. And then, before you could say "scat" he had wrapped his fingers around the hard cock and began to pump his hand up and down, so fast that it seemed a blur. Jodie was masturbating!
Her heart went out to him. He was big and handsome, and he could swim so good that Coach Heiney Helm had recommended him for the varsity swimming team at Marquez Union High. But he was still only a baby. To Eva, at least.
She was as ignorant of sex, and as timid about it, as Jodie. But she never felt strange with her brother. Neither strange nor afraid. Wasn't he hers? Their mom used to laugh about it when they were little. "The way Eva looks out for Joe, you'd think she was his mother." That's what mom used to say. And right now, Eva felt more like it than ever. She wasn't about to let Jodie have any pimples. No, sirree!
She spoke clearly in the big, echoing bathroom, where there was no sound excpet Joe's hard breathing and the swishy sound of his fist on his hard dick. "Stop it, Joe! Stop it, you hear!"
The boy almost fainted. Jerking off was all right. As far as he knew, every guy did it. That preacher's kid, Donny Blaine, said it was in the Holy Bible. "He who saith he hath not pulled his pud is a liar, and the truth is not in him." That's just the way Donny had quoted it. Little Joe never tried to look it up, but he never had heard any guy say he hadn't ever beat his meat. But to be surprised in the act, that was a killer.
He knew who it was. Couldn't be anyone else. But still, it had shaken him badly.
He turned blindly toward the sound of his sister's voice, and she pulled the shower curtains aside. He was so tall for his age that, since she was sitting down, she looked up at his prick, still tightly gripped in his hand. It still looked big, huge, really, but the shock had taken the blood from it, and it was softening.
The boy tried to be angry at being surprised this way, but he could not. This was his sister, who had always been on his side, fought his battles from the time he could remember. He loved her. But his face was flushed with shame at being caught this way.
"It's all right, Jodie," Eva said softly, looking past his cock to his blushing face. "You started so fast, I couldn't tell you I was here. Anyhow, I want to talk to you. About this," and she nodded toward his fist and his cock.
From somewhere his voice came back to him. "What the hell do you mean?" he demanded. "You want to talk to me about this?" He seemed to be brandishing his tool at her.
"Joe," she said softly, "take off your shirt and get in here with me. Like we used to, so long ago. Please, Jodie."
He had to smile. "Are you crazy?" he asked. "You know dad's liable to drop by, any time."
"Not this afternoon," she said, looking at his cock, now released from his clenched hand, and hanging limp but still large. "He was just here. He's either making a delivery, or he's made one and is on his way to the store. Come on, Joe, get in with me."
The boy was trembling as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was going to get into a bathtub, naked, with a naked girl. What if it was his sister, what did that matter? She was a girl. Her tits were there sort of on top of the water, plain to see. She had used no soap, the water was crystal clear, and he could see the darkness of cunt hair where her sweet young thighs met her belly. His teeth were chattering, but with eagerness rather than fear.
It was a big old tub, made when cost-per-foot of building houses was unbelievably cheap on today's hard scale. Eva, smiling, her young heart beating like a triphammer, moved back, and Joe got in and sat down, facing her, his legs outside hers. She pulled her legs up and placed, them over his, and they moved toward each other so that she was, in effect, sitting on his thighs. Her girlish cunt was no more than three or four inches from the head of his pecker.
She leaned forward and kissed him, chastely, on his cheek.
"Joe," she said, "You mustn't masturbate any more. It's not good for you." Unconsciously, one of her hands strayed down and rested on her thigh, so near his prick that he flinched.
"Oh, come on, Evie," he protested, his handsome young face red with suffused blood. "Don't let that warts-grow-in-your hand bullshit from the Phys Ed teacher get to you. All boys beat off."
"Do they, really?" she asked solemnly. "Maybe they do, but for how long? Not all boys get pimples. Can't you get pimples from, what did you call it? Beating off? Jerking off, jacking off? I've heard a lot of things it's called. Some boys don't have pimples. I know that. So do you."
He tried to hold her, but she put a hand on his chest. "Answer me, Jodie. Not all boys get pimples, right?"
"I guess so," he mumbled. He was looking at his sister's titties. They seemed bigger than he had thought. They were real, honest-to-God tits, swelling out from her rib cage, firm and yet soft, with big circles of pink-brown flesh, slick looking but sort of bumpy, on about half of them. At their pointed tips. And in the center of these circles, really dark red-brown nipples. Beautiful! His hands ached to squeeze them. But he listened as Eva spoke.
"Jodie, if you have girls-I mean," she said, turning her face away, "if you have girls, you know what I mean?"
He laughed. "You mean if I screw girls," he said, and she laughed, too, a tremulous sound.
"Yes," she agreed. "If you, uh, screw girls, you won't have pimples." She moved suddenly, involuntarily, as an unexpected wave of sex heat flushed her genitals, tickling deep inside her cunt. "And Joe, you being so big and all-nobody takes you for twelve-you can have any girl you want. Well, maybe not any girl, but a lot of them. Then, you wouldn't have to get pimples at all."
He looked at her with his face twisted as if in pain. If she only knew how badly he wanted to fuck a girl, to play with a girl's ass and tits and cunt, to suck on one of those sweet-feeling, tasty little clusters of red inner cuntlips!
His voice was choked and low as he answered. "Never happen, baby. I want to. God damn, do I ever want to! But I'm scared. And every time I look at a girl and want to fuck her, I'm more scared."
"Don't talk dirty talk, Jodie," his sister said. "And it makes no difference if you're scared of girls. Not now, anyhow. You're not scared of me, are you, Jodie?"
Her sweet little face was pink, and she dropped her eyes.
"Hey, sis," the boy answered unbelievingly, "does that mean that you'll help me?" His expression of woe and confusion was gone, his face now showed joy and anticipation. Best of all," from his viewpoint, at least, his wilted and insensitive cock suddenly became warm again, and gave a great throb of returning life. As it raised its head, and Eva leaned toward him to put her soft, warmly naked arms around his neck, it touched the slick inside of her swelling young pussy, an electric feeling he had never known.
It frightened him, and he moved back, but little Eva held on to him, still unable to look him in the eye, and said in a husky, broken voice: "I-I'll help you all I can, Jodie."