Chapter 2

Ann entered the small room first, waiting a moment until her brother followed her and then closing the door and flicking on the light. Without speaking she crossed to the single window, stood for a moment looking out to the moonlit night and the scattered neighborhood houses beyond, and then, with a deliberate finality, pulled the shade down.

She turned to her brother still standing by the door, an expression of chagrin and bewilderment on his handsome face. "You really are a first-class shit," she said.

"Honest, Ann, I only-"

"You only tried to stick a dick in Sue without even thinking about anyone else. Now you've probably gone and made her horny for every stud in school. What's that going to look like?"

He took a pace toward her, his hands outstretched in a gesture of helplessness.

"Oh, no," Ann said. "You're not going to scam me. I'll do the talking. You've got one hell of a lot to learn about girls. What do you think it's like going out with boys like you and knowing all the time if you let them in your panties your whole reputation's ruined? What do you think it's like wanting cock so bad you can't think of anything else, and then not being able to get any because if you do none of the girls will talk to you? Never thought of it that way, did you? Never thought I might be going half crazy for a little stuff, did you ? Then you come in and give it to Sue. You're a shit, Johnny, a real first-class turd."

"Look, I didn't mean-"

"No, you look to me. I don't give a flying goddam what you didn't mean. This is the way it's going to be. If you're going to dick around with Sue, you're damned well going to give me some meat too, because if you don't. . . " she let her eyes roll gently down from his to rest at his groin for a second before climbing up again, ". . . I'll squeal. I'll tell Mom and Dad everything."

"You wouldn't."

"You sound like it's a bad deal. Hell, I'm just telling you to keep your dick in the family. That way I don't have to go around frustrated all the time, but I can still be a good girl.-Only one thing."

"Yeah?"

"You teach me all about sex, but I've got to stay a virgin."

"You mean . . . you never . . . ? "

"No, damn it, I never. But I'm damned well going to learn."

She reached behind her as if some invisible creature had forced her into a momentary half-nelson, stood that way for a moment until the soft slide of opening zipper cut the silence that hung between them. Then, without waiting for more formalities, she bent over, and taking her dress by the hem pulled it up and over her head.

John watched in mild shock and genuine amazement as his seventeen-year-old sister tossed the single garment aside and stood before him clad only in bra and tight panties and a garter belt from which black straps extended to pull the sheer nylon of her stockings tight to her well-formed legs. He had seen her in bathing suits a hundred times before, but until this moment had never thought of her with any degree of passion. She was always his kid sister, the girl who had screamed bloody murder when she was eight years old and he had walked into the bathroom by mistake when she was on the toilet. Then she had been shy and proper and all things lady-like, and now, seemingly in an instant, all that had changed.

Was it the heat that did it? he wondered. Or was it the fact that she had seen him about to attain complete fulfillment with Sue, that had so altered her personality ?

As he stood in amazement watching her in the well-lit room, her hands again darted behind her back. An expression of twisted exertion crossed her face for a moment, then relaxed. In two quick easy gestures she shrugged out of her flimsy bra and stood naked to the waist before him.

Her breasts were larger than Sue's-much more mature and erect. The large nipples seemed to point directly toward the ceiling as if trying to draw the pale white flesh of the breasts themselves up and away from the torso that held them. A sharp outline enclosed her bust, making it stand out pale and white from a body that enjoyed savoring the beams of summer sun.

As he stood watching, she lifted her hands so that her palms circled under her jutting breasts to lift them even higher. She caressed them that way for a moment, before taking another pace toward him.

"Think they're pretty?" she asked.

He s w a ll o w e d. He was embarrassed-completely impotent by her aggressiveness and forthright demands. "Yeah," he managed, as she took yet another pace toward him and stopped a bare foot in front of him.

"Shit!" she snapped. "You're supposed to be the big lover-boy all over town. Fucked every girl between here and Coresburg, tried to dick your kid sister, and then won't even touch my tits! Fine brother you are!" She let her hand drop, spun around and started toward where she had dropped her bra and dress a moment before. As she did so, John heard the mixed anger and rejection in her voice, caught the flood of frustrated tears about to break forth from her denial.

This time, he moved toward her and, just as she was about to bend over, circled one strong arm around her waist and allowed the other to cup the firm flesh of right breast. His hips, gently at first, pressed against the soft roundness of her firm buttocks, and the pressure increased as she leaned back into him, pressing her back against his chest, arching her chin up so that her golden hair tickled his ear and fell over his right shoulder.

"Oh, Christ, Johnny," she gasped. "Show me, do me. I'm dying for it. . . "

Without answering he moved her gently toward the bed. He eased her down on the coverlet and stood for a moment over her, watching the agonizing plea in her eyes, the pained rise and fall of her huge breasts seeming like beautiful twin bombs about to explode with demanding desire. Then, still feeling no real stir of his own desire, he knelt beside the bed and slowly extended one hand to let the fingers touch first her slim stomach and then inch up along the underside of her left breast.

Her head propped up by the single pillow, she watched the movement of his hand as it eased slowly, maddeningly upward, teasing the flesh and denying the nipple satisfaction as it circled below in gradual, tantalizing motions.

As he toyed with her breast, he looked up to her face. She was breathing heavily through slightly opened lips. Her eyes seemed to be covered by a strange, hypnotic glaze as she watched every slow movement of his hand. It was not the feel of her warm, eager flesh under his touch, but rather the hungry, demanding look in her eyes and the sounds of expected ecstasy escaping from her parted lips that acted on his manhood. As he gently caressed her he could feel the first tingling throbs of erection stirring in his groin.

But he didn't want to rush the pleasure he hoped to have from her. He wanted to toy and tease until she changed from a demanding blackmailer to a begging girl consumed only by thoughts of her own physical gratification. Slowly, with deliberate stops and teases of her fingertips, he ran his hand over her breast, circling the erect nipple, teasing the areola but avoiding contact with the ruby red of nipple for almost a full five minutes.

Her breathing increased; her eyes seemed even more glazed than before as her hands reached up to clasp his face over the ears.

"Jesus, Johnny," she sighed, "you're driving me up the wall."

He didn't reply. He tried to control his own increasing desires as he now moved his thumb and forefinger to tease her nipple directly for a moment or two before finally lowering his head to draw the succulent, erect flesh into his mouth. He teased it gently with his tongue and teeth for a moment, then sucked hard on it to pull it and some of the smooth flesh behind it deep into his mouth.

There he savored and sucked-rolled his tongue over the delicate bud and around it as his left hand caressed her pulsating stomach and gradually worked its way first to her right breast and then down again over smooth responding flesh, over her pantie-clad hip and down to her knee.

Behind her knee where the perspiration of summer night and bodily anticipation had made the flesh sticky with its flow, he tickled the delicate nerves beneath the confines of nylon, ran his fingers up over the hot material until they reached the gap between stocking tops and panties. There, while still sucking heavily and deliberately on her left nipple, he allowed his probing fingers the thrilling sensation of the smooth flesh of her thigh and then a creep upward and under the tight hem of panties to feel the damp fur of her Venus mound. The hair was sodden with the flow of her desire, and even under the absorbent material of the panties he could tell that her want for him had enlarged her opening. Had she been standing, he knew, her flow would have fairly cascaded down her legs into her stockings.

She was gasping heavily now, her eyes barely open, mumbling half-words like, "Yes," and "Doit," and, "Oh, Johnny . . . Jesus Johnny."

More annoyed with her than thrilled by his own opportunity to rid his lust in her throbbing flesh, he released her nipple and ran his fingers roughly from breasts to hips. There he thumbed his way into the band of her panties and tugged hard at the flimsy material, trying to draw it from her hot hips.

"No!" she said suddenly. "You can't."

He pulled again, this time with more demand, more force. "Thought that's what you wanted," he said.

"Oh, Jesus, Johnny. I didn't know it would be this bad. I do, but I can't. I gotta stay cherry. Don't you understand?"

And then a wild-a freaky, even-idea seemed to crash into his mind. Suddenly he wondered how a girl with this much desire, and this much control over herself because of outside pressures on her reputation, had managed to survive since her first budding interest in sex. Surely, he thought, she must have some way of satisfying herself; certainly she couldn't just go out with boys who aroused her and then do nothing about the kind of frustrations she must suffer. Now he could find out for sure. Even though it might mean denying himself, what difference did it make? He'd already come twice with Sue, and he knew she would be willing to couple with him again any time. He could afford to be mean to Ann.

"Okay," he said. "Do it to yourself then." He pulled away from her and sat on the bed for a moment before the full impact of his words seemed to register on her.

When they did she sat up, propping her torso on her elbows so that her huge breasts jiggled invitingly with the movement. "What?"

"I said, do it to yourself. I'll watch. I mean, after all, if you want me to show you all about this sex stuff without even letting me get started, you might just as well show me how girls do it. You said something about a candle-"

"No, I never!"

"What difference does it make?" He unzipped his fly, reached inside his trousers, and, after a moment of trying to disengage the turgid flesh therein from the pressures of his leg, was able to pull it forth so that it stood up like a tree growing from his lap. "I know you want this. You know you want it-"

"I can't. I'll get pregnant."

Then another wild idea came to his mind. "Hey," he said. "You show me how you do it to yourself and I'll show you how we can make it together so you'll never get knocked up no matter what."

She looked at him for a long moment before she replied. "Really."

"Honest. No tricks."

"Okay, but you have to promise not to tell Sue or anybody."

"Sure."

Slowly, with a certain amount of doubt at first, she rose from the bed and stood beside him so that her hips were almost against his ear. As she stood there, his desire seemed to increase. He could smell the faint hint of subtle perfume coming from her legs and the material of her panties. He reached behind her and unsnapped the two catches of her garter belt and pulled on the tops of her stockings so that they hung over her knees.

She bent over so that her breasts hit his head and bobbed in front of his eyes, and she pulled the flimsy nylon the rest of the distance down her legs to puddle it on the floor between them.

When she rose again, he was looking directly at the blonde triangle of her Venus mound and the wet open lips mere inches before his face.

And in an instant, he forgot all else but the panorama of desire before him. Reaching his hands behind her thighs, he pulled her gently toward him as he extended his tongue to touch damp hair and wet flesh.

His hands slipped higher until the twin mounds of buttocks were fitted snugly under his insistent palms and her hips were forced tightly against his head.

There, as she gasped like one dying, he glued her tight to him as his tongue darted into the sweet opening of her womanhood, lifted up to slide easily over erectile clitoris, and then circled the little nipple to slide in again.

As his mouth and tongue worked desperately at her vagina and clitoris-as his hands cupped and caressed her buttocks-he could feel the increasing tremor of her body, the ripple of threatened earthquake about to destroy her sexual equilibrium. And then, suddenly, as if the very flesh she had been made of underwent a tremendous yet silent explosion, her legs began to tremble out of control.

She gasped and then she screamed. He could feel both of her hands behind his head, pulling on his hair, the fingers twisting and demanding as she cried out once, and then, as if shot in the head, killed on her feet, she collapsed to the room's floor.

It seemed as if his mouth was glued to her moist sexual lips. As she crumpled to the carpet, he held tightly so that he remained with her. She collapsed inert, yet he never ceased the swift, teasing movements of his tongue on her clitoris. He could feel by the throbbing flesh against his lips that she was rolling from within in uncontrolled multiple orgasms that threatened to drive her to momentary insanity.

Her head rolled on the carpet. Her hips thrashed against his, churning, pounding, crushing, threatening to break teeth and jawbone a-like as her knees bent and straightened, bent and straightened and then finally bent again so that her legs laced wildly around his back drawing him even tighter than he had been moments before.

They lay that way for an eternity-he never ceasing the careful movements of his tongue, she still churning and thrashing, still pouring her sweet lubricating fluid over his eager lips. At last, however, while he still worked his tongue, her thrashing began to subside. Slowly at first, then decreasing even more until her body seemed only smitten by an occasional involuntary tic.

And finally, she lay still under him. Her chest still heaved; her hands still occasionally opened and closed, and when he lifted his mouth from her cavern of ecstasy, John noted that occasionally one of her feet would twitch.

He thought her breathing could be heard to the far ends of town, but he didn't care. That was the point, he thought. He didn't care anymore. There was no guilt, no thought of their blood relationship. He didn't care if Sue and Ann were his sisters. All he could think about was that he was in a house with two girls-one fifteen, one seventeen-and both of them were crazy for sex because they had denied themselves. One didn't know her denial, but he had taught her. The other, the one lying under him, her huge breasts rising and falling in her panting satisfaction, her open vaginal lips still dripping with the fluid of her own desire and his saliva, had tried to blackmail him, and yet he was the one who was blackmailing her.

He knew enough about Ann to realize that she had probably told him the truth. Most of her girl friends were so-called nice girls. She might have hated it, but she had to stay a virgin outside. Now, though, he realized that she would be his any time he wanted her, and because he felt a strange power and something else-something almost akin to contempt or hatred-he wanted to show her how much in command he really was.

The fact that she had just had her total satisfaction from him through the use of his tongue and lips, the fact that she was-at least for the moment-completely satiated with sex and the effects of her own several orgasms, didn't matter at all to him.

He was erect again. Her arousal had aroused him and, most of all, her response to the sexual acts she had denied herself with others had made her his mistress-maybe even his slave.

Roughly, without asking or talking, he rolled her almost unconscious body over so that she lay now on her stomach. He gazed for a moment at her slender back with the two white lines of bikini crossing it. He let his eyes linger at the inward sweep of slender waist, then touched the widening sweep of womanly hips below.

Almost roughly, he spread her legs apart so that he could kneel between them, and then, with his hands under her hips, pulled up and back on her pelvis so that even though her head still slumped forward the lower part of her body was in a kneeling position.

He found the entrance to the tight opening he sought, spread her cheeks and with slow determination forced his way into her anal orifice.

She jerked violently against the internal pressure, but did not seem to have the strength either to free herself from the demands of his impalement or even to cry out against the violation he was performing.

"Oh, Johnny," she gasped. "Jesus, not in my asshole!"

He reached his hands under her, now cupping both breasts in tightly squeezing fingers as he thrust hard into her entrails and then pulled back to thrust again. "Told you it wouldn't get you pregnant, didn't I?"

She gasped again, this time seeming to come slightly alive-to respond slightly to the thrusting in and out movements of his member as it lodged deep within her and then slid back only to crash even deeper with the next thrust. She squirmed her hips and pushed back as she rose to her elbows and then to her palms. He watched as she supported her weight on her left arm and reached behind to pull at his testicles.

He could feel her wet fingers gently caressing and squeezing his scrotum, and knew that between moments of touching his flesh they were tantalizing her own. She was masturbating herself, drenching her fingers and palm with the cascading liquid of her desire and then smearing it on his scrotum and thighs.

He held tighter to her breasts, kneading, clasping, pulling. He was in complete command of the situation now. His previous releases with Sue had deadened the eagerness of his desire. Now, he felt he could pound into her all night, move back and forth, in and out, as long and as fast as he wanted to without the threat of ejaculation marring the pleasure of the motions, the soft feel of her now-moving hips under him.

Man the dreamer . . . man the sinner.. . As the first thought of his own perpetual power struck him-as he realized that he could last forever without ejaculation-he also realized that the thought, the realization, was a sham. The wet fingers that had stroked his scrotum, the hot flesh that encircled his manhood, belied his conceited dream and brought to him the first tingling knowledge that again he could not deny the release that began to surge from within him.

He felt it move, slowly at first, from the very depths of his testicles, felt it creep along the complicated maze of tubing there and gradually come forward. Then it announced itself with sudden demand. He was almost jarred apart when the doors slammed open and the rush of his impermanence cascaded forth into her body.

With one final, ultimate thrust of dying energy, he pulled her sweating hips against him and thrust hard to bury himself deeply within her.

Then the flood exploded, there, and in his groin, and in his brain, all at the same time. The earth seemed a chip of wood in a maelstrom, the sky a slow-motion firecracker of dull lights and half-heard explosions, and then he was gasping for breath, collapsing heavily on her back, sliding her forward into the deep pile of the rug so that again she was face down and he sprawled only semi-conscious above her.

He lay there for several moments, savoring the sweet perfume of her hair, feeling the thin amalgam of her perspiration trying to lock him to her flesh. Finally, gradually, strength returned, and with a great, half-exhausted effort he was able to pull free of her flesh and rise to his knees.

Something about what he had done now disgusted him. He had tried to prove a point and he had done it, but there was no real satisfaction in it now. Without speaking to his sister he walked out of the room to the upstairs bathroom, took soap and washcloth, and washed his genital area with meticulous thorougliness. He half realized that he would probably never have another erection again, but he didn't care. He was completely drained, completely exhausted, and yet completely satisfied-at least in a purely physical sense. After all, he thought, how many guys his age could have two women in the same evening, get all the oral and manual satisfaction they could and then do something like he had just done-and with their own sisters, too?

And then, looking down at his flaccid organ, wiping it one final time with the washcloth, he realized the irony of the situation. With all the experimenting, with all the indoctrination of Sue and the submission of Ann, with all the intimate knowledge of desire and bodies exchanged, he still hadn't experienced what he really wanted. He still hadn't had sexual intercourse with either one.

Now-and he mumbled an almost silent curse-he couldn't! He didn't think there was anything in the whole world that would make him rise again no matter what it was.

The thought of his temporary impotency annoyed him at first and then made him almost furious. He had tried to show his sister a lesson by his anal penetration, but she had received a good orgasm from his mouth and he had to content himself with second best. Now, even if she agreed to knock off her virginity campaign, he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

He tossed the washcloth up on the bathroom rack and, turning angrily, walked back to his own room.

Ann was lying on the bed. She had pulled the covers down but was still completely naked. Her eyes still seemed to be slightly glazed with passion, but there also seemed to be a slight, knowing smile on her petulant lips.

"Well," he said bitterly, "you got your come and you're still cherry. I hope you're satisfied."

"What's the matter with you all of a sudden?" she asked. "I didn't hear any complaints when you were pounding my ass a minute ago."

"Never mind," he said.

"Oh-" A long syllable of understanding slid from her parted lips. "I get it. Poor old thing's all tuckered out. Can't get it up again, is that it?"

"What's it to you? You got yours."

"What if I want more?"

He turned to look at her, saw the taunt in her eyes and realized that he had no more manhood left with which to satisfy her. He didn't even feel like doing anything more with her. He knew he could probably perform orally with her again, but with his last ejaculation the desire was now gone. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, to forget he even had a sister. And then, the thought he had had before buggering her came again to his mind. He had never seen a girl masturbate herself. Some-thing strange-almost perverted-in his mind wanted to see Ann give herself the ultimate pleasure as she had probably been doing for months, even years, without his knowing the degree of her passion. Finally, the thought took firm hold of him. It was kicky, kinky, wild, and somehow he knew now that she'd do it.

"What if you do?" he said. "You'll have to get your jollies by yourself."

She smiled. This time, it was no teasing half-movement of lips but a full, wide grin. "Want to sleep with me?" she asked. "I mean, all night?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"Okay," she said. "You go in Mom and Dad's room and get the bed ready. I'll be in there in a minute."

"What about Sue?"

"She's asleep, dummy. You know how late she'll sack in tomorrow. All we have to do is set the alarm and make the bed up."

He grunted with only partial enthusiasm and turned around. As he walked down the hall to his parents' room and the big double bed there, he heard the snap of the light turning off in his own room, the soft slip of his sister's bare feet on the hall carpet behind him and then faint, fumbled movements in her own and Sue's room at the other end of the hall.

He entered the master bedroom, flicked on one of the dim bedside lights, and pulled down the bedclothes on one side. He had just rounded the huge bed and was pulling down the sheet and coverlet on the opposite side when his sister came in. Both hands were behind her back, arching it so that her pale breasts seemed to jut even higher, and her triangular Venus mound seemed to proceed her, like a golden arrow, by almost a full inch.

Still with her hands behind her, she closed the door to the hall, turned the lock and then crossed to the big bed.

He slipped into his side as she sat down on hers and adjusted the pillow so that she could half-lie, half-sit beside him. It was only then that he saw what she had been concealing in her hands.

He looked at it without any mental frame of reference. It looked slightly like a flashlight, but had no glass. It was slightly curved and came to a tapered rounded tip which wasn't quite a point.

"What the hell's that?" he said.

"You don't really think I do it with a candle, do you?"

He grunted. He was only half-awake now. The hour, the heat, the physical exertions and draining he had experienced, were all drawing him away from consciousness, all trying to pull him into a totally exhausted sleep.

"It's a vibrator, silly. See . . . "

She touched a switch on the side of the strange machine and he saw it begin to move slightly in her hand. The slight whirr of the electric motor seemed soft and far away in the big room.

He rolled on his side, cradling his sleepy head on his left bicep as she, bathed in the golden light of the single bedside bulb, lowered the machine to her leg. "See," she explained as she moved it along the flesh of her thigh with her right hand and gently fingered her labia with the fingers of her left, "it's sort of like getting ready for a while, like this . . . " She moved the machine up over her torso, touching the delicate flesh of her breasts with its oscillating tip as she still played with her vaginal area.

He fought back the desire to sleep, as he looked from her contented, cat-like facial expression, then down to the slowly moving fingers of her left hand as they eased her vaginal lips open. He could see the first drops of welcoming lubricant begin to glisten on her fingers and then to give an oiled glow to the pink flesh. He watched fascinated as the lips spread open and outward, almost like a time exposure of an opening rose petal touched by glistening droplets of fresh garden dew.

"And then when it's all hot and ready . . . "

He watched her lower the vibrator and she lifted her (now wet) left hand to caress her nipples. The machine touched her erect clitoris, hovered there for a long moment, and then she began to ease it slowly into her vagina. But she kept it barely inside her, only an inch or possibly less. He could see by the angle of the vibrator that she was holding it in such a way as not to enter her vaginal tract, but rather to titillate the delicately responsive nerves of her clitoris alone.

She was still trying to have her cake and eat it too, he thought. She wanted all the sex she could possibly get from man or machine, and yet she still wanted to keep her hymen intact so that she could tell the stupid clod she'd marry one day that she was a technical virgin.

And in the moment of realizing her plot, the halfway split between her desires and her actions, he thought of the nastiest trick he could. He would fix his hypocritical sister and fix her for good. He would ruin her damned virginity so she could never get it back again. He almost chuckled out loud, wondering how she would tell the lucky guy who thought she was cherry. Maybe that she broke it playing basketball, he thought. That's always a good one. Or maybe the old bit about riding horses. One thing was sure-she would never tell the poor jerk that her own brother busted her with her own vibrator as she was showing him how a horny girl does her own thing.

He fought back the desire to sleep and looked at her. The glaze was beginning to cover her eyes again. He could see the increasing degree of her response to the machine throbbing against her jittering clitoris.

"Bet that feels good," he said.

"Ummm."

"Tell me how it feels."

"Good, just yummy."

"You going to come off that way?"

"Sure."

"When?"

"I dunno. Soon. It's coming soon."

"You tell me when you start to come, all right? It's kicky."

"Ummm." She nodded her head slowly. He saw the faint detached expression in her half-closed eyes and the increased flutter of her left hand as it massaged the erect nipple of first one breast and then the other. He lowered his eyes to the vibrator and saw the tip of it jumping hundreds of times a minute against her sensitive clitoris.

Then he noticed that her breathing was coming faster and heavier. He moved his right hand so that he could stroke the inside of her thigh, so that he was within inches of the sensual machine pulsating against her eager, responsive flesh.

"You tell me when you're going to come," he said again, his eyes still darting from her pleasure-saturated face to her wet jiggling groin.

"Sure," she sighed. "Don't want to make it too fast. Want to hold off for a long time."

"Yeah."

Her mouth dropped slightly open and her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips. He could see the slight increase and decrease of pressure as she moved the vibrator harder against and then away from her clitoris. He could sense her conflicting desires about the machine. On the one hand, he knew she wanted to rupture her hymen with it, to thrust it deep into the scalding cavern of her womb, ruin her virginity forever and yet experience a pleasure more intense and more satisfying than any she had ever known. On the other, he knew some strong sense of social consciousness held her back, forced her to perform a half-way masturbation on herself so as to keep her body technically pure for some vague unknown man who she might one day marry.

Watching her excite herself, thinking of what was going on in her mind and with her body, had a strange effect on him. At once it filled him with contempt for her and yet it seemed to be doing the impossible to him. Without intense desire, even with a slight degree of pain, he could feel himself rising again; it was a slow, gradual movement of blood flowing to his erectile tissues from some unknown source of energy deep within the secret confines of his own body.

Boy, he thought, this is really going to be something. I'm going to be able to do my prig sister in with her own tool and then . . . the thought was almost too much to bear. He tried to keep his voice calm as he asked again, "You going to come?"

"Almost," she gasped. "I can feel it building. I can-"

He waited in an agony of suspense as her breathing increased even more. Her left hand stopped fluttering on alternate nipples and clasped the roundness of one breast firmly. Then he saw what he had waited for. Her eyes were shut tight, and he saw her teeth clench together and the slight-very slight-almost fearful ticing of hips.

In that first second of her solitary ecstasy, he moved with deliberate yet rapid motions. Raising his hand from her thigh he put it over hers, lowered the angle of the vibrator slightly, and pushed it hard with all the force he could muster.

He saw the machine disappear within her, heard her gasp-half out of agony, half out of unexpected, unimagined bliss-and then, in her ecstasy-unknowing, uncomprehending-he saw her clasp her legs tightly together, her hands between them as her knees lifted. Her mouth hung open now; her eyes remained tightly shut, and she muttered again and again, "Oh, God. Oh, God."

But as quickly as it had dominated her, the physical ecstasy left, replaced now with anger and terror. Seeming to forget the pleasure of the almost buried machine, she extended a finger and thumb into her vagina and worked feverishly for a moment, finally succeeding and pulling the still-pulsating machine out.

"Oh no!" she gasped. "My cherry. You! You broke it. You bastard."

She did not hit him, she was crying now, and he was watching her in delight. He was almost totally erect now and her tears were having a definite effect on him. Using his own hand to help speed the process of erection, he finally attained a state of turgid hardness he had thought impossible.

"So what?" he said as he rolled over and brutally spread her legs. "You like it, don't you? You can't get it back again. It's gone now forever." He forced himself between her open legs, held his member in one hand for a moment, and then almost brutally thrust it into her hot wet flesh, until it was completely buried in her molten desire.

"No!" she gasped. "Please, Johnny . . . no . . . we can't. . . "

But her bodily desires would no longer bend to the will of her social education. Once the vibrator had plunged into her, exciting the delicate inner walls of her lover's passage, it had opened a vista of lust that could never be closed off again. Even as she pleaded with him to stop, she lifted her legs around his back and, bending her knees, pulled his body tight to her.

Her arms laced around his neck and her wet lips rose to meet his.

"Oh, God, Johnny," she gasped again and again. And then, "I love you, I love you."

This time, he actually did become the impossible machine he had hoped to be when he took her in his own room. Real desire-the kind that destroys the length of time for the act-had completely left him-had been drained from him by the night's previous acts. Now, through some sadistic accident, through the joy of knowing that she no longer had any excuse, he was erect and yet without fear of losing that erection through any ejaculation which might come too soon.

Apparently the vibrator had started an orgasm with her, and her realization of broken maidenhood had forced the gates of her passion to close. Now, they opened again. He could feel the tight pressure of her legs around him, could hear the gasping of her breath in his ear and feel the throbbing release of her ticing hips as they crashed up and down against his own.

He knew she was climaxing again, this time as a woman should, with a man inside her, but even after it was over, after her body seemed to relax for a moment, he knew there was more left in her.

Now, if she would, he knew he was able to make her climax again and again-as many times as she possibly could before becoming completely exhausted.

He pushed the shaft of his organ high against her so that it would stroke the length of her clitoris as he pushed it back and forth within her now-almost-totally-liquid vagina.

She was pulling his hair, clawing his back and buttocks and almost breaking his back under the tight strangling pressure of her locked legs, but he would not stop thrusting.

"Oh, Christ! I'm coming! I'm coming again!" she gasped, but he only thrust more and harder, never ceasing. It was impossible, but it was happening.

And then, the third time, when her breath again came in hard agonized gasps, when her fingers again began to increase their demanding pressures on his back and through his hair, he knew his own end had come. Slower than before, seeming to come not from his groin but from his anus, he felt the almost-pain of it beginning to surge through him.

"Come!" he almost yelled in her ear. "Come again."

"Yes! Oh, God Johnny, yes!"

He increased his rhythm, thrusting now with hard fury into the gaping opening of her vagina, hardly feeling the loose walls around him, hardly hearing the strange sounds of air being pushed from it by the pressures of the throbbing piston of his penis.

And then, slowly, definitely, with something so close to agony, he seemed to be sucked away from himself. His backbone and lower spine seemed to crumble and pull away from the top of his head, and all sucked through his sexual tracts to explode out of him, tearing him apart, thrusting his entire body and soul deep into her demanding womanhood.

He grunted with the mixed pleasure and agony of it and she cried out. "Oh, God! Johnny!"

They writhed together fighting for the last es-sense of the mutual pleasure they had found together. He dug his toes into the lower part of the bed, trying desperately with the muscles of his legs to force himself even deeper into her than he was already.

She in turn thrust her hips hard against his, literally bruising his pelvis with the impact of her yearning. Her arms pulled tight around his neck, her breasts flattened hard against his chest. They squirmed and panted that way until ultimate exhaustion overtook them.

They lay inert for several moments, then she relaxed her legs to sprawl on her back. What little was left of his erection was still in her as he raised himself on both hands to look down at his sister.

She opened her eyes to him and smiled slowly. "Don't pull out," she whispered. She looked down over her sweaty, slippery breasts and glistening torso, to where their two sexes joined. "I never thought-"

"like it?"

"Oh, Johnny. This is the most."

This time he looked from her smiling, satiated face, over the firm mounds of breasts jutting up from below him, to the moist patch where his penis disappeared within the pink wet lips of her vagina.

It was good, he thought, and now he didn't care. He was exhausted, but in a strange way he was also in love.

It never occurred to him-not then, not for some time-that there was crime in what they were doing. He didn't even think of the practical problems her pregnancy might produce. All he could think of was that she was beautiful and wild, and that she wanted him and liked the feel and look of him inside her.

He wished he could do it all again-that he was some kind of superman who could go on and on forever-but he knew the wish was an idle dream. This time it was certain. The night of sex was over.

Slowly, easily, he pulled away from her and rolled to his side. She turned to face him, laying one hand gently on the soft remains of his manhood. She smiled to him. "That's good, Johnny," she said. "Let's do it lots."

"Okay," he said.

"And just us. I mean, let's keep it in the family. No one will know."

"Yeah," he said. "You can tell the guy you marry that you busted your cherry riding a horse or something."

She rolled slightly to turn out the light. In the darkness he could hear her slight lazy giggle. "Some horse!"

She snuggled close to him, still resting her left hand lightly on his groin.

Outside, a slight, humid breeze rustled the curtains and the first drop of rain spatted to earth in their front yard. But he neither felt the breeze nor heard the beginning of the summer shower. He was asleep-drained utterly and entwined in the arms of a beautiful young woman.

That she was his own flesh and blood did not clutter his mind.