Stepsister Taboo

Exploring taboos in a Coming-of-Age story

There had been a period of time in 1969, when my stepsister Judy had been at odds with her mother. Judy had moved in with us full time. On the afternoon of November 18th, I arrived home from school to find Judy lounging on the couch. As was normally the case, my full-blood sister, Clair, was studying with her boyfriend at his house. Thus, I was alone with Judy until mom returned from work. We would be alone for a couple of hours.

Judy was an inch taller than me and somewhat chubby. Overall, she was bigger and stronger than I. Additionally, she had always been an abrasive, physical girl. She had been known as a mean girl. This was the label for female bullies. Prior to moving in with us, she had run away from home. Upon her capture, she had been convicted of shoplifting and did time, first in the juvenile detention center, and then in reform school. All this put her back a year; thus, she was a senior in Clair’s class at my high school. We had never formed a friendship and, quite frankly, I didn’t like being alone with her. I hastened my step and headed for the stairs leading to my basement bedroom.

“So, you got paddled at school today,” she said.

I froze. This was a true statement, but I didn’t know how she would have heard about it. Since, she was a senior, and I was a freshman, there wasn’t much mixing between these two classes.

I nodded. My wild streak had not abated with the transfer from the parochial school to the public one. However, these swats were administered by the gym coach, a middle aged man. His butt whacks hurt something fierce, and this did not have the erotic appeal of the swats from Sister Mary Jane. Somewhere between the sixth and ninth whack, I had sworn to change my ways. I pledged to always follow the rules, and I meant it. I was never going to make another visit to Coach Walsh’s office.

“Do you think I should tell mom?” Judy was referring to my mother, not hers.

She shifted her position, pulling her legs onto the couch. One too many buttons of her blouse were open, and the white top of her bra peeked out. Additionally, the movement caused her skirt to ride high up her thighs. She was wearing pantyhose, and the darker, reinforced tops slipped into view. She wasn’t wearing shoes, but I couldn’t quite see her toes through the double layer of fabric sewn into the heels and toes of the hose. Being a connoisseur of pantyhose, I had surreptitiously examined my sister’s very closely.

Informing my mother was a realistic threat. When my mother had learned of prior transgressions at school, she added some punishment of her own. This could be grounding, extra work around the house, withholding allowance, or additional paddling. However, she hadn’t paddled me for the past couple of years. My stepfather had used his belt on me once, but I told my real father about it. He, and his lawyer, convinced my mother this was never to happen again.

“No,” I answered. I had made my pledge; I had no need for additional admonishment or punishment from mom. Only bad news would come of it, if mom learned about the school swats. What was going to be the price of Judy’s silence?

Judy sighed. “Yeah, I guess I will keep your secret.” She wiggled her toes. “But, tell me… Is your little butt still such a bright red?” She grinned like the cat in Alice and Wonderland.

How could she possibly know? Coach Walsh’s swats were administered during gym class. The offender — that was me — was ushered into his office after dressing out in my gym clothes. The other boys had been sent out onto the football field. The menacing punishment sawhorse, which normally mocked the boys from a place in the corner, had been strategically positioned in the center of the room. He unceremoniously instructed me to drop my shorts and bend over the sawhorse. I had not been forewarned about the Coach’s brand of swats. I was wearing the jock strap under my shorts; thus, my butt had, for all practical purposes, been bare. I had never been paddled on my bare skin before, and I had never been paddled by a male before. While I hadn’t seen the result, I had imagined my skin to be a flaming red after the tenth brutal whack of the paddle.

“Guess who else has gym at one o’clock? Eh?” She tapped her chest on the skin exposed by the open buttons of her shirt. “I bet you didn’t know the senior girls are invited to watch, eh?” She laughed. “You screamed like a little girl.” She twisted her face into one of mock agony, raised the pitch of her voice a couple of octaves, and squealed, “Please, please, I promise to never…” She spared me the rest.

I couldn’t envision how her statement could possibly be true. It just wasn’t conceivable that the school would allow such a thing. At the time, I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings. My vision had been focused on the sawhorse and the paddle in Coach Walsh’s hand.

However, his office straddled the entrance to the locker room. There was one door which opened to the public hallway, and a second door which accessed the changing room. I was certain both doors had been closed. There was a window which viewed the changing room, but I had seen Coach Walsh close the blinds. Could someone have opened the door to the hallway after I was bent over? Once in position, my backside had been aimed in that direction and I could see nothing but the floor.

Judy’s description of the experience was spot on. There was no other possible explanation; she was a mind-reading alien from another world.

“Anyway, it’s over now.” She smiled, and I knew there would be more. She wasn’t finished teasing me. “Do you suppose…” She paused for an agonizing moment. “That, when you are a senior, you will be invited to watch a girl get some swats?” She ran her tongue over her lips. “You know, girls get them too.” She chuckled. “Have you ever wondered what that looks like?”

This confirmed it; my stepsister was a witch, or at least a mind reader. This was one of my favorite fantasies. While masturbating, I frequently envisioned exactly this scenario. I could see in my mind’s eye a sobbing girl, bent over a chair. Her skirt would be pulled up, revealing her panty clad bottom. Perhaps, she would be wearing pantyhose. As she pleaded for mercy, a female teacher would repeatedly apply the paddle. The girl’s legs would scissor-kick in the air with each swat. Maybe, just maybe, the teacher would pull down the girl’s underwear and give it to her on the bare bottom.

“They do the girls a bit differently,” Judy said, refocusing my attention on her. “Less, uh, severe. Would you like to know how it’s done?”

What? Was she inviting me to spank her? I could imagine nothing sweeter than spreading her out on the couch, lifting her skirt, and swatting her bum with my bare hand. “You naughty girl! You deserve this spanking, and more, for teasing me,” I would say. I knew I would regret it, but I was the proverbial moth drawn to the flame. I had to see how far she would take this. I took a step closer to her.

“Sure,” I said, a little too cocky.

With a curled finger, she beckoned me closer. When our knees were only inches apart, she produced a hairbrush. “They use a much smaller implement; one almost exactly like this. This is much better for use on girls’ smaller, delicate bottoms.”

At this moment, I knew the whole thing had been a setup. She was holding the hairbrush my mother had used to swat my sister and me. It had the usual hair-combing bristles on one side, but the significant side was smooth, polished hardwood. We hadn’t been swatted for years, but somehow Judy knew what it had been used for, and where my mother kept it.

However, Judy didn’t afford me more than a second to contemplate my situation. She abruptly stood. Using her greater weight, she pushed me backwards. As I stumbled, she held my wrist. Taking advantage of my momentary imbalance, she twisted our combined bodies to a nearby chair.

Hitherto, I had not noticed the straight backed dining room chair which had been moved into the living room. Judy had made significant arrangements for her plan, although, her true purpose had not yet been revealed.

In a single motion, she sat in the chair, pulled me across her lap, and smacked my butt with the makeshift paddle.

“Ouch!”

“My, my, I bet your bottom is feeling rather delicate right now.” She chuckled. I struggled to get up, and she smacked me again. I howled a second time. “Hold still, I’m warning you,” she said. “I can hit just as hard as Coach Walsh.”

When she had begun taunting me with the notion of how girls received their swats, the vision of me spanking her had been an irresistible carrot dangling under my nose. Too late, I saw the error in my judgement. She smacked me a third time. My tender flesh screamed, but I clenched my jaw shut.

“If you want the rest of your punishment to be softer, like a girl’s, then you will behave. All right?”

I sighed. “Okay.” My butt was really burning.

“Good girl. Now, my little pretty, stand up and take your jeans off. Girls do not wear jeans to school, and they certainly do not wear them while being spanked.”

She released me, and I stood up. I can’t imagine why I did not simply run out the front door. I could have walked the streets until my mother came home. This could all be a nightmare which had ended. Nonetheless, I did as Judy instructed. I had crossed some sort of mental line into a state of willful submission.

I untied the laces of my sneakers and toed them off. I unbuckled my belt.

“Pull that loose and give it to me.” She held out her hand.

The belt was her father’s implement of choice, and I envisioned she knew exactly how to use it. Reluctantly, expecting I would soon be feeling the bite of my own belt, I gave it to her.

Being careful to keep my underpants in their proper place, I dropped my jeans and kicked them off. By this time, my cock was at full attention. Straining to be released, the boner protruding from beneath my belly stretched the cotton fabric of my underpants into a tent. There was no hiding the thing. I contemplated covering myself with my hands. My erection was shouting for attention; he wanted to be touched, to be stroked. He wanted to come. If I put my hands over the tent, the urge to touch myself would be irresistible. I wasn’t sure what Judy would think about that.

“Put your hands behind your back,” she said, resolving my dilemma. She stared at the white tent, and the rounded head threatening to burst through the folds of the brief’s fly. Moisture had begun to ooze from the tip and a stain was forming. “Little girls certainly don’t have one of those.” She chuckled. Lifting her butt, she pulled her skirt up to her waist. The full extent of her pantyhose, and the white panties underneath the beige fabric, came into view. “This is what girls look like. However, I understand from Ricki, you already know exactly what girls look like down here.” She opened her thighs and stroked her fingers along the inch wide strip concealing her secret pink parts.

My cock twitched, sending the tent bouncing. I felt him pulse, squirting more moisture. For a moment, I thought I had come. Had my hands not been clasped behind my back, the urge to jerk him off would have been irresistible.

“Take off your socks. Girls don’t wear socks with sneakers. Take your shirt off too.”

I complied. Other than my underwear, I was naked. I did imagine this was how girls got their school swats.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she leaned down. She allowed her cheek to brush my hip. Her face was a mere inch from the tip of my woody. She wrapped the belt around my legs, just below the knees, and secured the buckle. There would be no running away now.

“Girls tend to kick too much,” she said. “They must be restrained.”

Considering the months she had spent in disciplinary institutions, I trusted her to know a lot about corporal punishment. Additionally, I now had a new element to add to my masturbation daydreams — girls in bondage.

She continued, “It is now time for you to resume the position across my lap.” She parted her thighs. “Put that thing in there.” She pointed to the gap between her thighs. Slowly, I did as instructed. “No matter what, do NOT let that thing go off. If you do, you will regret it for a long time.” She pinched my sore butt. “Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” However, the matter was completely out of my control. I didn’t know what punishment she had planned if I came, but I expected a climax would be inevitable.

She began to tap the flat side of the hairbrush on my butt cheeks. If this was the way girls were spanked, it was no punishment at all.

“Do you know what girls wear under their gym rompers?”

“No.”

“They wear nothing at all.” She winked.

I expected this was another taunt; it couldn’t be true. However, the girls’ one-piece rompers made them immune to de-pantsing. The elastic leg holes made it impossible to see up into them. Thus, her outlandish claim couldn’t be proven. I could ask my sister, but she would say, “You’re being gross,” and likely tell mom. Nonetheless, I couldn’t stop the vision dancing in my head; the vision of girls taking off their panties and pulling on the rompers over their bare butts.

“When girls get spanked, Mrs. Cartwright has to pull the leg material up to expose the flesh.”

I knew Mrs. Cartwright was the girls’ gym teacher. Doubtless, she was the one who administered the punishments and not some random teacher. Judy pulled the waistband of my underpants up. The cotton fabric bunched between my cheeks, giving me a tight wedgie. She tapped the paddle on the exposed flesh.

“Indeed, your butt is still a bright red. There are a few nice, colorful bruises blooming. You may have trouble sitting for a day or so.” She resumed the application of the paddle. She used slightly stronger swats, which caused me to somewhat bounce over her lap.

After only a few moments, I cried out, “Please, Judy, you have to stop. I can’t control it. You are making me come.”

She stopped. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“So,” she stroked the cool wooden surface across my blazing bare skin, “you like this?”

I wasn’t certain exactly what it was about the experience I liked, but the physical evidence was undeniable — I liked something about being spanked.

When I said nothing, she gave me another tap. “Answer me, little girl, or you will get the hardest swat I can deliver.”

“Yes, yes, I like it.”

“You like what?”

“I like being spanked.”

“That’s a good girl. Honesty is always best.” She released the belt wrapped around my knees. “Now get up.”

With a little struggling, trying to avoid touching her, I managed to stand. She examined the tent in my underwear and the huge wet spot.

“Looks like my little girl has soiled her panties. Did you come?”

“No.”

She clasped two fingers around my tiny nipple. She lightly squeezed it. As I grimaced, she asked, “You wouldn’t think about lying to me, eh?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Do you have the safety switched on for that weapon now?”

While my cock ached to be touched, to have the pent-up tension released, the immediate urge to burst had subsided. “Yes, I’m okay now.”

“Good. Take your underpants off. I want to see it.” I immediately reached for the waistband to comply, but she continued as though I had hesitated. “You showed it to Ricki, you can show it to me.”

I didn’t bother to mention the show me yours and I’ll show you mine event with her younger sister had occurred before I started having erections. At that time, my pecker was hardly more noticeable than a thumb. As my underpants came down, the one-eyed purple monster stood out like a neon sign.

I carefully lowered my underpants to my knees.

“I said, take them off!” She applied a sharp swat to my bottom with the hairbrush.

I pushed the briefs down and kicked them off.

Without touching him, she examined my cock. She looked underneath at the two balls. Their sack was drawn tight in anticipation. I realized, she had never seen an erection before, at least not up close.

“Make it jump up and down.”

I tensed my groin muscles and she watched my member bob. She giggled.

“I want to see it come.” She squeezed her thighs together and patted her lap. “Squirt it here. I want to see exactly how it is done.”

The ole boner was delighted when I began to stoke it. However, I had successfully pushed the orgasm back from the brink, and now I had difficulty regaining the edge. I squeezed, stroked, and pumped, but my libido was not interested in performing for an audience.

After a minute, she asked, “Would it help if I spanked you?” She smacked the hairbrush against my bare bottom. I groaned. She smacked the other cheek.

“Oh, oh…”

She applied a third, firmer whack. And then a fourth and fifth, and my seed exploded. A surge of cum shot from my cock and landed in her lap. My cock pulsed and pumped out a huge load.

I groaned.

The accumulation on her lap rivaled the amount from my very first ejaculation under the disciplinary hand of Sister Mary Jane.

“My goodness, I didn’t expect so much,” Judy said. The jets had subsided, but drops were still oozing out.

A few moments later, the shaft began to relax in my hand. The sack covering my balls slackened.

“Is it over?” she asked.

“Yes,” I sighed, the waves of the orgasm still washing over me.

“That was very nice. You have been a very good girl.” Careful not to spill a drop, she rolled down the waistband of her pantyhose and slipped them off. “I dare say, these might have been ruined. I’ll have to put them in the basket with your mother’s so she can wash them.”

Judy was still taunting me. She expected me to succumb to some sort of blackmail. No doubt, she thought I would be afraid my mother would recognize the character of the substance, and think I had been rubbing my cock with the pantyhose to masturbate. As Judy had already proven herself to be, she was a mind reader. I had done this exact deed more than once; however, I had been careful to clean up after myself.

I was about to mention that it was more likely mom would believe the seed had been deposited between Judy’s legs by another boy while making out in the back seat of the car. But, before I could offer this alternate scenario, she barked out a new order.

“Kneel down.”

I dropped to my knees in front of her. She had her legs slightly parted, affording me a unique view of the inch-wide gusset of her panty which concealed her feminine secrets. Once, I had been this close to my sister’s privates while she wore a bathing suit, but seeing the slightly translucent, thin fabric concealing Judy’s curly dark hairs was mesmerizing. The thought of what lie so close transfixed me.

Slowly, she raised her right leg. The gap between her thighs widened. For a moment, I thought I saw the outer edge of her pink sex peek out of the elastic. She put her foot on my chest; she pressed her toes into my collarbone.

Again with slow deliberate motion, she touched my man package with her left foot. The worn out boy was now completely flaccid. She kneaded her toes into the curly hairs at the base of my cock. She traced lower and supported my cock and the family jewels with the top of her foot. She hefted them up and down.

“Do you like that?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Would this make you come?”

“I’m completely spent. Nothing could make me come now.”

“I mean, if your weapon was loaded, and I stroked it with my toes, would you come?”

“Yes, oh, yes.”

“Do you know what I like?” she asked.

“No.”

“Let me show you. Close your eyes.” I complied as ordered. “Now, no matter what, you keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“If you open them, I will take your belt and whip your fanny until it bleeds. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her right foot traced up along my neck to my cheek, and then over to my mouth. Her toes came to rest on my lips.

“Hold my foot with your hands.” Blindly, I reached up and clasped my hands around her heel. “Now, kiss and suck my toes. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Of course, I did as she asked. The big toe of her left foot slowly massaged the fleshy spot under my balls. I heard a combination of strange noises. There was the sound of some rhythmic motion, and moans from her throat. I presumed she had lowered her panties and was masturbating. If I opened my eyes, I would see her bare, womanly folds a mere two feet from my eyes. I would see her fingers inserted in her mysterious orifice.

Keeping my eyes shut, I kissed and sucked her toes one after the other. When I finished the row of five, I started over. This went on for more than a minute. Her moans deepened. I was on the verge of opening my eyes, sacrificing my butt to a blistering, so I could see her naked. So I could watch her masturbate. Surely, she was too deep into it to notice if I took a peek.

However, I was too deep into my submission to her will. I kept my eyes closed.

The character of the sounds changed. They took a sense of urgency. I could hear her panting breaths between the moans. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. Her toes flared backward, and I switched to kissing the bottom of her foot. I massaged it with my tongue and gently bit her arch. There was one final shiver through her legs; one final gasping moan, “Oh-oh.” And then, she was silent.

All I heard was her panting breath. She withdrew her feet.

“You can open your eyes now,” she said. Her feet were back on the floor with her thighs tightly closed. Whatever she had been doing was now concealed from my view. “You were very good, my little sweet. A good little girl, indeed. I will think of some reward to give you.”

That’s when we heard a car door slam in the driveway.

“Holy crap, mom’s home!” I jumped up and scooped up my clothes. Judy gathered her shoes and the prized soiled pantyhose. “What are you going to do with that?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.” She winked.

I still didn’t see a scenario wherein the soiled pantyhose could come back to haunt me. However, Judy had proven herself to be very resourceful. She probably had a plan. She twisted her lips into a sadistic smile. “Mark, I’m going to polish my toenails after dinner. Think you can help me with that?”

I had clearly not heard the last of this event. “Sure,” I said. The screen door creaked as mom opened it. I ran down the stairs to my bedroom.

Judy raced up the stairs to her room.

Part Five

A half a year later, I got the Big Kahuna of sexual taboos. It was April 13, 1970 and the entire world was watching the drama of Apollo 13 unfold. That was, everyone except Judy. She had no interest is such things.

It was Monday, and I raced home from school to watch the unfolding news coverage. However, being a red-blooded teenage male, I stole a few minutes to masturbate. With my jeans and underwear around my knees, I lay on my side atop my bed. Facing the wall, I studied the photos of Playboy Centerfold. The issue was several months old, May 1969; the Playmate of the Month was Sally Sheffield. She was 27 years old, rather old for a centerfold girl, but I adored her — big firm breasts and white derriere where her bikini bottom had shielded her flesh from the solar rays. I stroked my tool; this wouldn’t take long.

“Need a hand?” Judy asked.

Absorbed as I was, I hadn’t heard the door open. I cupped my manhood and struggled to find a way to cover my bare butt.

“It’s all right,” she said. “Here, let me help.” She sat on the edge of the bed and began to caress my bottom.

I swallowed and returned my attention to Sally and my daydream of plowing into her from the rear. Judy did more; she started spanking me.

“You are such a naughty boy, keeping all that cum inside.” She knew how to push my buttons. “Be a good boy and come for me. If you don’t, I’ll have to spank harder.”

I closed my eyes to the make-believe scenario with Sally and melted my thoughts into Judy’s hand swatting my bare butt.

“Be a good boy and let me see you squirt. Come for me, baby,” she whispered in my ear as she spanked me.

It didn’t take long.

“Ooh, good boy,” she said, watching my cock spasm and jet cum into a carefully positioned tissue. “Wow, such a load. Let me clean you up.” She pulled another tissue from the box on the bedside table. She rolled me onto my back and delicately cleaned my still hard member. “Oh, my, my, the little man is so messy.”

Finished, she dropped her tissue atop mine and picked up the magazine. She backed away from the bed and sat in my desk chair. She thumbed through the pictures while I pulled up my pants and dropped the tissues into the waste bin.

“Where did you get this? Does mom know?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t about to reveal my source and, of course, my mother didn’t know about my stash of porn. The only reason Judy would want the information was to tease me or blackmail me. Fortunately, she didn’t press the issue.

She continued taunting me. “So, you are still hanging on to your virginity. I hear-tell, you’ve never even kissed a girl. But then, that is par for a nerd, I suppose.”

Again, I didn’t respond. Both statements were true, and I still had no idea how she came by such detailed information about my life.

“Actually,” she sighed, staring at one of the pages, “I came down here to ask you to do me a favor.”

“Yeah, what?” I asked. This would be the price for her silence. I was prepared to suck her toes while she masturbated.

“I need you to buy me a box of rubbers.” She looked up from the magazine and held her eyes fixed on mine.

“A what?”

“You heard me. It’s something I cannot buy myself, but I need them.” She tore out a page from the magazine and sailed it across the gap between us.

I was not happy to have her deface my magazine, but the page was one with a boring article and advertisements. On one side of the page was an ad for men’s underarm deodorant, and other side was an ad for condoms.

“Just like those: Trojans — Gold — Ribbed — Lubricated.”

I actually had a bit of experience buying condoms. I’d never bought them, but I was with Jocko when he had bought some. He was gearing up for a water balloon fight, and condoms made the best water balloons. I hung back while he waltzed up to the drug store prescription counter. He pointed to the display behind the counter and selected the cheapest variety.

However, I didn’t agree to make Judy’s purchase. Her request made no sense. She had no shortage of boyfriends. This was the time of sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll; it was no surprise she was putting out. While marijuana and LSD had not appeared on the scene in Montana, the music with suggestive lyrics were played routinely on the radio. The Rolling Stones song Let’s Spend The Night Together was no longer taboo on the airwaves. Most all movies portrayed sex, although not as explicitly as I has seen in Blow Up. Judy’s boyfriends could, and should, buy the condoms for her.

“I don’t think so,” I said, as I pulled the magazine out of her hands. I put it under a stack of papers in my bottom left desk drawer. I waited for her to threaten to expose my porn to mom. I wasn’t worried about this. I had an iron-clad hiding place for my three Playboys and one Penthouse magazines. The location I had just revealed to Judy was a ruse. I would move it after she left. If she told mom, I would whine about Judy’s perpetual, fabricated stories trying to frame me with her misdeeds. She would not be able to produce the evidence.

“I’m willing to give you something, uh, rather, uh, special if you do this for me.” She sighed. “You see, I really need them bad.”

I smiled inwardly. There was a reason she flunked English. It’s badly, I thought to myself.

“I want a box of a dozen, but you can have three of them. And…” She waited until she had my undivided attention. “You can have me. You know, fuck me.” She displayed her arms in an open, inviting posture reminiscent of Hollywood starlets.

I dropped to sit on the bed to keep from fainting.

She continued, “No tease, for real. But, of course, you have to use one of your three. We’ll do it right here tomorrow night. But…” another pregnant pause, “you have to pay for them.”

There was no need to think about this. Whatever game she was playing, it was a risk worth taking. “Okay.” However, I knew in my heart it was some sort of trap.

The next day, after school, I walked to the drug store. Crossing the threshold, I drew a deep breath and imagined I was an assertive gangster from The Godfather film. I made a beeline for the prescription counter. Stealing a glance over the counter, I confirmed the condom display was still in the same place. I stood stationary, trying to look bored. Not wanting anyone to recognize me, I kept my back to the store and the other patrons.

The clerk came over. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, a dozen Trojans, please.” I pointed to the display. “The gold, ribbed, lubricated ones.”

He didn’t bat an eye as he put the box on the counter. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” This was far easier than I had expected.

He rang up the sale. I was floored at the cost of them. They must have been real gold. I emptied my wallet and received a few coins and a paper bag back. Arriving home, I dashed down the stairs to my bedroom. Judy had heard the door and quickly followed me, but I hid them before she arrived.

“Did you get them?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Get your three and give me the box.”

“Nope. You still have to make good on your end of the deal.” I wasn’t born yesterday.

“Okay, after everyone goes to bed, I’ll come down here. Be ready, but not too ready. You best beat it off so you don’t go off like a Roman candle after the first ten seconds.”

Hmm, it seemed she had more than a little experience. I nodded.

The hours of the afternoon and evening crawled by. I immersed myself in TV coverage about the plight of the Apollo astronauts until my stepfather came home. As usual, I disappeared with his appearance. We didn’t get along.

In my room, I switched to listening to the radio while doing some school work. At ten o’clock, I changed into my pajamas and went to bed. Following Judy’s suggestion, I slapped the salami. Lying on my back, staring at the dark ceiling, I wondered what Judy’s motive could be. There was positively no sensible reason she would need condoms so badly as to trade sex for them. I decided the most likely answer was the opposite; while she might have a need for some condoms, what she really wanted was sex. She wanted to have sex with me. Instead of asking for it straightway, she had contrived this scheme. Of course, this didn’t make much sense either. With all her boyfriends, she could have sex anytime she wanted.

At some point, I fell asleep.

***

“Wake up, sleepy head.” A hand jostled my shoulder. Judy’s voice spoke from the darkness. “Are we going to do this or not?” She pulled the covers aside.

I stood. Miniscule beams of illumination leaked around the curtains from the streetlight outside. I could barely see her standing in her pajamas in the center of my room.

“Be quiet, we certainly don’t want to wake up mom,” she said.

I was much more concerned with waking up her father.

She unbuttoned my top and pulled it off. She poked her fingers into the waistband of the bottoms and tugged them down. I was naked. She cupped my manhood.

“Did you beat off?” she asked.

“Yes.” I spoke for the first time.

“Good. Now where is the box?”

Her plan was clear to me. With me being naked, she could simply grab the box of condoms and run. I could hardly chase her, and I certainly couldn’t report the theft to our parents.

I said, “Nope, your turn.” I opened the buttons of her top and pushed the material off her shoulders. The satin smooth material floated to the floor. In the dim light I couldn’t see very well, but I could see she had a nice set of knockers. They were only slightly smaller than Sally Sheffield’s — from the Playboy Centerfold. However, Judy’s were not nearly as firm. Nonetheless, they were a sight of beauty as they were the first time I had seen real-live-in-the-flesh boobs.

“See something you like, cowboy?” She again reached for my junk and stroked my cock. It was fast responding to the stimulation.

I pulled down her bottoms. Like me, she was not wearing underwear. I admired the dark curly bush at the apex of her thighs.

“Go ahead, my kitty won’t bite.” She took my hand and placed it on her mons.

I used my fingers to explore the soft folds.

She put my other hand on her breast. My thumb and forefinger closed around her tight nipple. She pulled out bodies close together and kissed me.

I resisted for a moment. Kissing my sister! In an odd conflict, I was perfectly willing to screw Judy, but the thought of kissing her was still taboo. However, she was not really my sister, she was a stepsister. I relaxed and she pressed her tongue into my mouth.

“There,” she said, as we parted, “you can’t lose your virginity before your first kiss. It’s a law or something.” She let the moment settle, and then added, “Now, where’s the box?”

I retrieved it from the desk drawer and set it on the nightstand. I had already separated my three, and I tore one open.

She took the rolled latex from me and grabbed my cock. It was not quite a boner yet, but it was getting there. She lay on the bed, dragging me along behind. Lying on her back with her knees high and wide, she guided me to a kneeling position between her thighs.

I wished there was more light, but I could make out some pink parts peeking out between the dark curly hairs of her pussy. She put my hand on her warm, most secret place.

“Go ahead, have a look,” she said, as she unrolled the sheath over my erection.

Not being able to see much, I let my fingers do the walking as I separated the soft petals of her flower. This was a lightyear ahead of my merger experience with Ricki and Nicki years ago. I found her clit, and then her moist entrance. I slipped a finger inside. With the protecting condom in place, she pulled me down on top of her. She pushed my hand away and guided my tool inside her.

It was warm and snug, and felt divine. My cock was home.

“Push it in deeper,” she said.

I began slow, rhythmic thrusts. She closed her arms around me and held my hips with her thighs. She rocked back and forth as I pressed in, and withdrew. She pulled my mouth to her nipple.

“Suck it, baby,” she whispered.

In a short while, I sensed the cliff of climax fast approaching. I had surely been inside her for more than ten seconds, but not very much longer. In an effort to back away from the cliff, I turned my mind to geometry. Also, I slowed my thrusts. I made my strokes longer as I pressed deeper into her pussy.

“Oh, yes, baby, that’s the way to do it.” She moaned softly, exhaling a warm breath over my shoulder each time I thrust inward.

This went on for a while longer, but eventually I could not resist falling over the cliff. The muscles in my back and butt convulsed which drove my cock to new depths just as I felt the spasm of the first jet of cum shooting out. Hopefully, it went no further than the latex shield.

I groaned, and she sighed.

“Ooh, that’s a good boy. Give it to me. Give me all of it,” she whispered.

I had no choice; I couldn’t command my muscles to withdraw if I wanted to. I was pumping furiously. The climax slowly subsided. How long did I last? I wondered. The whole process had taken at least one minute, maybe two — hardly a noteworthy performance. Probably not long enough to bring her to orgasm.

“Ooh, Mark, that was a good one,” she said.

She pushed me out, closing her fingers around the condom as I withdrew.

“You have to make sure it doesn’t slip off,” she instructed. “Can’t let those little swimmers escape.” Exhausted, I laid down beside her on my narrow, twin-sized bed. She continued, “Mark, how about a truce. From now on, let’s be nice to each other. I won’t tease you or tattle on you, and maybe you will help me study for the finals. I do want to graduate this time.”

“Sure,” I said. I didn’t believe her for one second, but I had a soft buzzing deep in my core. I was warm and contented; all was right with the world. Thus, I had no interest in bantering with her. I sighed. “Yeah, that sounds great — friends it is.”

She kissed me.

THE END

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