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Smashing Thumbs |
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I was a typical teenage boy growing up in Arizona. That is, I thought I knew everything, I was sure I would get to do everything I could fantasize or dream of, and I had mixed feelings about my younger sister, Melanie. Sometimes I hated her guts. She could be a real bitch, tearing me down and getting me in trouble for her crimes against the family. Then again, she could be my best friend; we shared a lot of grief growing up, as did our older sister, Hannah, but we also shared a lot of experiences. The first porn mag I ever looked at was in my sister's hands, out back of Aunt Sue's cabin in the woods, where she had found it under a makeshift tent. We both knew it was supposed to be sexy, but it didn't make much sense. Years later we played strip poker with some of her friends and one of mine, and by the end of the night everyone had seen at least a flash of everyone else's genitals. Nothing dirty, just show-and-don't-tell. In high school, things calmed down. Melanie had her friends, and I had mine. My senior year was her first year, as she was three years younger than me. At 18 I was nothing special, but nothing to run from. Sometimes we would eat lunch together, or I'd drive her and her friends to the mall or to a movie. She'd usually invite me along, and she never seemed awkward about having her big brother around. I went to a local college and suddenly found myself spending more time than ever with Melanie. We drove to school together--high school was literally the block before my college--and I often took her to lunch or drove her around on errands. We would take double dates now and then, but it was usually just with platonic friends. A romantic date with a sibling along is never a pretty sight. Move along, people… Anyway, I was 21 and enjoying my drinking privileges responsibly. That is, I didn't hurt anyone, lose any time, or cause any property damage. Melanie turned 18 a month later, and I had already planned something special for her. Tickets to a concert, her favorite band of all time--Depeche Mode. Not my type of music, good for only two things: suicide and sex. I figured she would take her boyfriend, a creep named Roger. If not that slug, maybe her best friend, Janelle. Nice, polite girl. She asked me to go with her. "I'll need a ride anyway, so you'd be put out." "If I agreed to drive you." Melanie arched an eyebrow and cocked her hip. "I'm your baby sister. You'd do anything for me." She got serious. "I want you to go. You hate them, I know, but it will be fun. You buy the beers, I'll bring the joints." We had never talked about smoking pot. "Melanie, look--save the joints. I love the stuff, and I'm cool if you do it, but let's just go and enjoy the show. You're my sister. I don't need drugs and alcohol to put up with you." "But what about me? You're an old fart!" The concert was on a Saturday night, so we both slept in and did nothing all day. By 4 o'clock, we were both showered, dressed and ready to go. Two hours to reach the outdoor theater, another hour until the show. We drove with music blasting. My CD of Sting's "Fields of Gold" was in mid-disc, and we both sang along at the top of our lungs. Melanie and I could sing well when we wanted, but we usually goofed up and mocked each other. Not tonight. It was like we felt grown-up, and we wanted to be nice to each other. We just sang with each other, smiling, driving. The usual "park-the-car-wait-in-line-through-the-gate-wait-again-climb-the-hill-reach-the-lawn-and-try-not-to-fall-down" routine. I usually get lawn seats because I like the people I meet up there. If I don't like them, I can move to another spot. Melanie and I sat in a small clearing between a group of high school students and a row of couples. The students looked familiar, and Melanie waved to one of the guys. He was about my build, more muscle, less flab--I'm just an ordinary average guy--but he wasn't a jock. He waved back, ran over to us. "Hey, Melanie." He shook her hand, then he looked at me. "I’m Ken." We shook hands. "I'm Ted. Thad, actually, but-- Ted." Melanie squeezed my shoulder and said, "Ken is an old friend of mine." I laughed. "Not too old, just 21." "Booze age. Cool. I'm 19. I was held back into Melanie's class." Melanie was staring into his eyes, then tracing his body up and down. He couldn't have missed her expression, and I was feeling out of place. Ted didn't notice, I guess, because he took off to his other friends. The lawn filled up over time until they were cut off from our view. Melanie and I chatted, joked, listened to the pre-show PA music, people watched. The show started late, no opening act, and the music was so good it sounded like the actual recording--well, live, but identical to the original performance. Nothing new, but it was solid. The crowd pulsed and danced, throbbing around us, until we were stuck in a press of people. Some were sitting, others standing, and we realized the lawn had sprouted a handful of small bonfires. Melanie and I stayed close, and we started holding onto each other's hips and hands to keep from being separated. From out of nowhere, Ted appeared. He slid up to us, nodded at me, then began to dance with Melanie. She grinned and danced with him. I stayed close, and Melanie kept reaching out to keep in touch. I felt a little weird, but not too strange. She had told me about Ted, and I knew this was coming. They were friends, but until today he had been dating a cheerleader. After they broke up, he called Melanie and found out about the show. He didn't have a ticket, but he said he'd try to track one down. They agreed on one thing--Depeche Mode is sexy. So as they danced, I knew what Melanie was hoping for. The song changed, a slower pulse, and some people sat down around us. A few couples were making out, some people were smoking pot, and others were dancing. Melanie and Ted moved toward the ground, and I watched as she slipped her jeans down to her knees and spread her legs. Ted's pants were open, and since he had no underwear his dick was jutting straight out, pointed at Melanie. She looked panic-struck, and he shook his head in response to her music-muffled question. Melanie looked at me, pleading. I reached into my wallet and pulled out the one condom I carried for "emergency use." I handed it to Ted, and he slipped it on right there, no embarrassment. Amazingly, most people weren't noticing. Or they noticed, but did a great job of pretending not to see anything. Melanie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward her. "Stay with me. Don't get separated. You're my chaperone." She held my hand, so I sat next to them and tried not to watch as this teenage stud slipped his hard dick into my younger sister. She was legal, it was her choice. Her hand left mine, then it grabbed my forearm and squeezed. Her eyes were shut as Ted slid deeper into her, thrusting slightly until he was all the way inside. She didn't seem to be in pain, so I guessed she wasn't a virgin. But I could see them sliding together, and I could tell that she was tight. Melanie looked at me, and I smiled. I realized my face was a little contorted, it felt like I was grimacing, and she noticed. "What?" she mouthed at me. Then she looked down at my lap, and she noticed my erection tenting my jeans before I did. Her hand slid down my arm, across my stomach, onto the top button of my 501's. She popped the buttons in one fast pull, and then she wrapped her hot hand around my hard, aching penis. Ted saw and grinned, and then he started pounding her faster. Melanie closed her eyes and rode his dick, while her hand stroked my erection even harder. I was leaking precum in rivers, and she used it lubricate my hard-on and stroke me faster. Ted groaned and stopped moving, and it was obvious he was coming inside my sister, inside my condom, where I was imagining myself to be. Melanie trembled, then she looked me in the eye. "Can you cum?" she mouthed. I nodded. She stroked faster, squeezing now and then, changing her rhythm and wiggling her fingers around the head. I was thrusting into her hand when she reached for a napkin. I knew why, but the napkin was soaked through with spilled beer and it felt apart in her hand. Her other hand slowed on my dick, but she never stopped. She looked at me, then she started jerking me off. No other way to say it. Her hand whipped up and down, squeezing, pulsing just right, and it felt like the perfect mouth sucking me in, the perfect pussy embracing me, the most perfect hand in the world touching me and loving me. My stomach lurched and my legs tensed, and Melanie rolled toward me with Ted still inside her. He slipped but managed to stay under her halfway. As Melanie leaned onto my stomach and pulled my dick, Ted started thrusting into my sister again. She groaned, and then she looked up to see if anyone was watching. About six people were staring, and they cheered as we looked up-- Melanie stared into my eyes, trying to tell me something or to ask me something-- My legs flexed, my ass clenched and shoved my erection into her hand, and my skin tingled-- I came. Melanie kept jerking my dick, faster, and I throbbed and shot load after load after load of cum onto her hand and my stomach, and it felt as if my dick was going to pop, but she kept running her fist up and down, then rotating it around the tip of my dick as cum seeped through her fingers. She seemed to enjoy what she was doing, because she kept playing with my sloppy dick even after it started to soften in her hand. Ted pulled out of her and cleaned himself up with tissues from his back pocket. Melanie pulled Ted's concert shirt off and used it to wipe us all clean. She tucked me back into my jeans, politely buttoned me up, then kissed me on the cheek. My relationship with my young sister had just become weird... THE END |
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