Chapter 3
Saturday, and no school; but we kids had our chores to do around the house, especially Joanie and I. We had to get our own breakfast and then clean up our room while Bill mowed the front lawn. Before this, Bill had put his clothes on while Joanie and I were in the bathroom, but after what had happened last night and this morning already, there didn't seem much sense in privacy, so we dropped the segregation bit except in the tub, which was only big enough for one of us at a time.
Looking at Bill's prick, almost invisible in its nest above his balls, I marveled that such a tiny instrument could grow so big and give so much pleasure. My cunt still felt nubbly-delicious from the fuckings my brother had given me, and I was tempted to tear off another piece with him when we were bathed and beginning to put our clothes on. But there wasn't time, simply too much else to do. So I let it go.
Funny thing was we didn't want to talk about it. Not just then, anyway. I guess we all knew things had changed and had to think over what happened and how it had come about. Not until we had eaten breakfast and Joanie and I were making the beds and Bill was out using the lawn mower, did I notice that my little sister was crying silently, with tears running down her dear little cheeks.
I went over and hugged her and kissed her and said, "Oh, honey, there's nothing to feel sorry for--not when we've all found anything as wonderful as we did last night."
"It's not that, Robin," Joanie sobbed, holding me tight. "It's just that you and Bill do it so marvelously; while I'm such a lousy lay."
I did my best to reassure her. I told her she was just a kid (talking from the seniority of eleven years old) and that she had lots of time to learn how to screw and a wonderful brother to teach her. I guess, at the time, I even believed it. After a while, she cheered up and wiped away her tears and told me she loved me.
Mom and Dad were having breakfast when we finished our chores and Mom called us in to say good morning. Like I've already said, Mom is good-looking in a darkbrown way, even with her hair every whichway and no makeup on. She'd be beautiful if she didn't wear a sort of pinched expression most of the time.
She said, "I hope you children weren't having a pillowfight last night ... it seemed to me I heard noises."
Joanie said, "Oh, no, Mother. Robin had a dream or something and started talking in her sleep."
Mom said, "Robin wasn't the only one I heard."
I jumped in then with, "I guess they had a little trouble getting me to shut up. I'm sorry, Mother."
Right then I caught Harry looking at me over the top of the morning paper, and from the expression in his brown eyes I could tell he hadn't been fooled. When he saw me looking at him, he pulled the paper up higher, but not before the crinkles around his eyes told me he was having one of his silent laughs. It scared me a little, his knowing, because I didn't know what to expect. But he didn't say another word.
Mom said, "I suppose you're off to the playground," and, when we nodded, "Come home if it rains. And I expect you back for lunch anyway."
"Will you be here, Edna?" Harry asked.
"I have to go to a rummage sale in Running Water," said Mom, "but I don't want the children stuffing themselves with a lot of indigestible junk. They can go back afterward if they want to."
"May we go now?" Joanie asked, fidgeting.
"Run along, children." Mom sounded like every other mother I ever heard.
When we got outside, the sky was cloudy and grey and Bill had finished the lawn and gone on ahead of us, so we walked the half-mile to the playground alone. In those days, Riverville had no modern playground, with pool and slides and all that jazz and stuff. What we kids used was the old fairgrounds on the edge of town alongside the creek. To me, it was a lot better than a regular playground and the other kids felt the same way.
There were the remains of the old trotting track and wooden stand and a lot of sheds and booths and old stables falling more or less apart. The creek water was not polluted by the papermill then, so we could go swimming there if we wanted to. When we got there, there were only a handful of other kids and no sign of brother Bill. Threat of rain had kept the usual Saturday morning crowd from collecting and, about five minutes after we got there, big drops began to fall and the others dribbled along home.
"We can't stay here, Robin," Joanie said as we took shelter under the leaky roof of the old animal exhibits pavilion.
"We can't go home without Bill," I said. "I wonder where he went?"
"Let's find him and get back before we get really soaked," said Joanie.
So we started to look. We knew every nook and cranny of the old fairgrounds, of course, but neither of us thought of looking under the bandstand until we got caught in the open by a downpour and had to scurry under its open-sided roof for shelter. We might not have found him then if we hadn't heard voices coming up through the warped floorboards.
We got down on our hands and knees and put our ears to a couple of the many places where the boards were separated and could hear them plain as day. After a minute or so, Joanie lifted her head and said, "I hear Bill ... he's down there."
I said, "And so is Hotpants O'Houlihan!"
We figured it was worth getting drenched to see what was going on down below. So we tiptoed down the rickety steps and around to where there's a door in the latticework that covers the foundations and slipped inside. It was dark, but our eyes adjusted after a bit and we could see what was happening:
It was something--even if it was nothing to write home to Mother about. Not to a mother like Mom at any rate.
Evidently, a lot of Riverville residents had been using the area under the bandstand for fucking for a long time, because there were a goodly number of old quilts and blankets and even a couple of mattresses scattered around in various stages of mould and decay. In the rain, it smelled like a wet dog's fur.
Hotpants and Bill were using one of the mattresses and they were stark naked. Hotpants was on her hands and knees and brother Bill was ramming his stiff little cock into her from behind. At first, I thought he was plumbing her arsehole, but when my eyesight finally got fully adjusted to the dimness, I could see the little puckered crater of that bathroom orifice right above the hole his jock was pleasuring every time he pulled back for another thrust into her squirming, wriggling cunt.
Then as now, I'll have to hand it to Hotpants in the looks department. She's darker than the rest of my family, but with lavender eyes instead of brown ones and kind of lush, crazy pretty all over. Even then she was the kind of a kid who could heat a man to the boiling point just by looking at him. And, from watching all those X-movies her old man ran off in the parlor on Saturday nights, she had a lot of ideas how to use her hot little body.
Right now, she was exercising them on our brother Bill. She's the kind of girl who likes to talk while she's fucking, and every time she'd give her bottom a buck or a roll, she'd turn her head around and say something like, "Did you feel that?" or, "How does that feel ... ?" Bill would reply; which was why Joanie and I had heard both their voices.
I suddenly found myself hating Hotpants. We'd never been real good buddies. I guess because we sensed a sex rivalry between us. But we'd always gotten along. Now, watching her making sport with my own brother's precious prick, I felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to pull her free of Bill's plunging prong and roll her over on that dirty old mattress and jump up and down on her belly and boobs.
This wave of hatred was so intense that I could only sit there on the edge of the other mattress, gripping Joanie's hand tightly, unable to move or say a word. I guess Joanie must have felt something close to what I was feeling, because, when we finally let go, I could feel the curved indentations where her nails had dug into the palm of my hand.
By that time, Hotpants was squealing like a stuck pig as Bill increased the speed of his plumbing and, before we could intervene, he buried his cock all the way inside her and obviously shot his wad into her soppy cunt. When she pulled her bottom clear of his drooling tool, little trickles of white liquid were running down the insides of her plump little thighs.
She said, "Criminentlies, Bill, but you really mess up a girl. You should be on those movies my father likes to show my mother and their friends."
Bill didn't say a thing. Just stayed there, upright on his knees, watching his cock shrink. Nor did he look up until Hotpants turned around and saw Joanie and me sitting on the other mattress. Then she let out a four-letter squawk and said, "How long have you two been watching us?" Her face was livid with rage.
Bill looked at me and then at Hotpants, cool as you please, and said, "Don't get your drawers in an uproar, Hotpants. I fucked both of them last night. They aren't going to tell on us."
Hotpants shrugged defiantly and tossed her head, causing her boobs to bob around on her chest like Halloween apples in a tub. She said, "I don't care if they do--with what I've got on both my parents. Last Saturday, after the movie, I saw my dad with his face in Mrs. Lamson's crotch while Mr. Lamson fucked my mother in the guestroom. It was real groovy."
Bill, my little brother, said, "Maybe you ought to watch them more closely next time."
It stopped Hotpants cold. She said, "And what do you mean by that?"
Bill said. "I mean Robin can outfuck you any day of the year."
Hotpants' rounded little chin flew up and she said, "You're a cocksucking liar, Billy Davis." Then, when he just kept on looking at her, "How do you mean Robin can outfuck me?"
"She's better tail, that's all," said brother Bill, causing my cunt to cream with pride and excitement.
"I don't believe it!" said Hotpants. "What does she know?"
"Plenty..."
"You say you fucked Joanie, too?" And, when he nodded, "I suppose you're going to try and tell me she can outfuck me, too!"
"Not yet," said brother Bill. "She's still a bit young. But give her time and plenty of practice and she'll really fuck you under."
"That'll be the day ... in fact, seeing is believing." Hotpants turned her flushed, angry little face my way. "You just saw what I can do in the fucking department. Show me how you're better than I am."
I said to Bill, "How about it, hon?"
He looked at me and gave his limp cock a squeeze. It didn't show anything but he must have felt the blood start stiffening it, because he said, "It's okay, Robin ... come on over here."
"You sure?" I asked. I didn't wait for an answer. Instead, I stood up and shucked off my clothes. Even then, of course, I was no collection of soft bumps and hollows like Hotpants. I'm rangier, a lot leaner and with smaller boobs and buttocks. But, as I had already learned, though I didn't know it yet, my cunt is up high, so a man can fuck me all night without having to put a pillow under my arse or get his jock sore from the pounding of my pelvis. I'm red-headed, too, with hazel eyes and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of my nose. I've never had any complaints either in the looks or fucking departments, not then, not ever ... never!
But, as I got down on my knees on the other mattress and took hold of brother Bill's burgeoning prick, I was wondering how you showed another woman you were better tail than she was. Even though both of us were a long way from being women yet. Bill must have been thinking the same sort of thing, because, when we embraced, he slid his lips close to my ear and whispered, "Robin ... what'll we do?"
For a moment, I was stumped ... I couldn't think of any way we could fuck that would let Hotpants see any of the action while my brother was socking his whang into my cunt with our bodies all tangled together. If he and Hotpants hadn't been screwing each other dog-fashion, I wouldn't have been able to see much while they were fucking, and there was no point in copying her.
Then I remembered a photograph of a Japanese print Hotpants herself had showed me one day at school: Japanese couples fucking in every conceivable position and all the sex organs were enlarged compared with the rest of their bodies, so you could see what was going on. There was one position in particular that fascinated us because it looked impossible. The man and woman were sitting on a mat, facing each other, lying back on their elbows away from each other but with his prong in her hole.
Hotpants and I and some of the other girls had giggled over it and tried to figure out how any two people could get into such a position. We had not been able to come up with an answer.
But suddenly, thanks to fucking my brother while riding on top, I thought I could see a way to make it like those two crazy Nipponese. I gave his fine little fucking piece a squeeze and found it good and hard, and he replied by hooking a forefinger into my cunt, which turned me to molten lava. He kissed my boobs, one after the other, and I began to thrill inside and went right on building his erection by pumping up and down on it with my good little right hand. It was chilly and damp there in the rain under the old bandstand, but not for my brother and me. We were hot as a couple of colts in springtime.
Hotpants sniffed and said, "I think you're stalling," and that snapped us out of it.
I pushed Bill over gently on his back and then, straddling his flat little loins, I stuck his delicious little prick as far up into my flooding cunt as it would go. This time, I didn't squat on it, I sat on it, with my knees up in front of me and my feet planted flat on either side of his waist.
His brown eyes looked up at me, bewildered, and I said, "Bring yourself up on your elbows, Bill darling."
He did so, and I leaned backward, extending my arms down stiffly behind me for support from the mattress. It was tricky and, for one horrible moment, I thought I was going to lose my balance and topple over sideways and spoil everything. But little Bill, bless him, managed to get his hands around my middle and steady me in time.
Once that situation had been remedied, I slowly lowered myself to my own elbows, while my brother went back on his. And there we were, just like the couple in the Japanese print, leaning away from each other with Bill's cock still embedded in my hole and our fucking pieces entirely visible to Hotpants and little Joanie.
Looking at Hotpants in triumph, I crowed, "Remember this one?"
For once, Hotpants seemed to be at a loss for words; just stared at my brother and me, her violet eyes wide open, along with her mouth. Finally, she muttered, "I still don't believe it..."
But there was more than acrobatics to the Japanese position Bill and I had assumed. Even more than the night before, when I rode my brother topside, the angle at which his darling dong was sticking into my squashy hole put a terrific underpressure on my clit and caused my rump to roll and my legs to snap in and out alongside Bill's body as the early spasms went steaming and streaming through my hot little body.
Little Joanie could never have made it. Wild movements were out of the question. And sudden jerking of Bill's pulled-down prick or of my exquisitely anguished clit or its surrounding area would have disengaged us in a flash. That we had to put restraints on our natural brother-sister desire to fuck the daylights out of each other made us come all the quicker and harder. My juices began streaming out of the wee bit of room Bill's whang left around the rim of my cunt right in front of our eyes. It grew thicker and whiter, looking like the squeezings from a tiny tube of toothpaste: vanishing within the lips of my pulping hole each time my brother thrust his dong deeper into me--to reappear, thicker and whiter, each time my labia followed his beloved organ, gripping at it when he pulled it partway out for another assault.
I figured it would take my brother a long while to shoot his semen into my womb, thanks to all the fuckings he'd had during the night and early morning, plus however many times he had got his rocks off in Hotpants' hole. But I hadn't counted on the erotic impact of the new position we were trying. I learned right then that it is downward pressure on a male dong that gave him the quickest and sharpest reaction (although I was later to learn that this was age-old procedure among harlots), so the pulling my cunt was giving him, plus the excitement of being able to see what we were doing, was enough to make his dear prick jump in my soppy fucking piece as if it were undergoing electric shocks--and enough to flood my internal workings with his life-giving fluid.
I was caught short, but I didn't intend to leave things in that deplorable condition. I began rolling my cunt around and keeping on with the downward pressure, at the same time squeezing it with my cervical muscles just within the gates of my cunt. This caused an increase of the white flow around the edges of where the action was, with seminal and vaginal juices mingled sweetly. But not even this was sufficient to keep that darling dong where it was so sorely needed: halfway up my sopping tunnel of love.
Desperately fishing for its waning dimensions, I put my threshing cunny through all kinds of antics until, to my horror, it slipped out and was there between us waving back and forth in the semi-darkness, only the faintest of highlights reflected from all the divine sex-sap that lacquered it from root to crown. And even as I looked, frozen by the disaster, I could see its sweet round asparagus tip begin to curl as the blood left the pillar-like veins that held it erect.
This was more than I could bear. Uttering a guttural growl, I grabbed at it with a cupped right hand. But so slippery with sex-sap was it that my hand slid right over the crown to grip empty air. I got both hands on it and, crowding up closer atop his well-spread thighs, I somehow managed to stuff this increasingly limp little sausage into my suppurating coozy.
Sitting right on his lap, my baby breasts flattened against my brother's sweat-covered chest, my belly against his, my buttocks right in on his loins, I began putting my backfield in the sort of motion it had longed to launch since this piece of arse got under way. I hugged his slippery body tight against my own and ran my cunt up and down his pillar of joy like a woodpecker drilling a hole in a tree, moving my bottom around until, at last, I felt the restiffening of my darling brother's beautiful big prick in my churning, gyrating crotch.
With that, I finally got my rocks really off. We might be fucking there yet, all these years later, if they hadn't torn the old bandstand down some little while after our memorable fucking on the rainy Saturday morning. But it didn't happen quite like that, of course. What really happened was that Harry, my father, caught us an hour or so later...