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I’m an old woman now, bent and arthritic; indistinguishable from the hundreds of old ladies you might see any day of the week, and certainly miles away in space and time from the beautiful young thing I once was. And I can refer to myself as having been beautiful without embarrassment or boastfulness knowing, as I do now, that beauty is the most ephemeral, fleeting and ultimately insignificant quality a man or woman can possess. It’s valued more and means less than any other attribute a person can have. But having said that I can tell you that back in my heyday, When it seemed so important, I was something.
My husband died 2 years ago this April. And now the doctors say I, myself, only have a few months maybe a year to live. And I’m telling you this not to gain your sympathy but to explain my motives for writing this – what is it? Confession? So be it. I know I should be ashamed but I honestly don’t the time. My children are gone, moved away, and care not a whit about me. But they will find this, none the less, embarrassing should they read it. Which thrills me somewhat, to shake up their smug little conservative lives, but hopefully I won’t be around to endure their recriminations and sanctimonious “mother, how could you”s.
My brother Richard and I were always close; chronologically as well as emotionally. Even as children we never got into all the bratty things siblings do to drive each other crazy. As children my mother bathed us together, we walked to school together, we played together, and we told each other our deepest darkest secrets. And when we reached puberty, well, we did that together too. Richard is less than a year younger than I am (but he’s still my little brother) so at the same time my breasts were budding and my hips and bottom becoming full, and curvy, Richard’s voice was changing, his beard was coming in and he added 3 inches in height, and a few inches in other places too, I imagined.
At 19, my girlfriends and I, as these changes were coming on to us, would sit for hours talking about boys; who was dreamy, or a heartthrob, (this was a long time ago, you understand) who’s hair we’d most like to run our fingers through, or who’s eyes we’d most like to gaze deeply into, or whose lips we’d most like to have on ours. Who had the broadest shoulders, or sexiest arms. I loved to talk about those things too but my mind, for some reason, always seemed to stray below the waist. (At the beach, in those days, the fashion for many of the younger men was tight bathing suits. Not the skimpy Speedos you might see today, these covered from just below the navel to just below the crotch. But they were form fitting and could reveal quite a lot about the man who wore them. I enjoyed seeing a man with narrow hips and a nice rounded bottom. And I loved seeing a good size bulge in the front. I would imagine what that bulge looked like when it gets “real big and stiff” and I’d always get a tingle between my legs.)
My friends all agreed that my brother, now a foot taller than his older sister, was “dreamy” and a “heartthrob” and pestered me for information; what was his favorite color, what did he like to eat, did he sleep on his side stomach or back, had I seen him naked? I liked the attention this gave me, making me feel that I was the keeper of important info but I always had to excuse myself from these discussion because inside I just as smitten.
I liked watching the boys at the beach, loving the way some of them looked and moved but I always felt that my little brother was the handsomest; a chiseled face with with black hair and blue eyes common to our ‘black Irish’ ancestry, broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscular chest and legs, even his feet looked pretty to me. His backside was cute and his bulge was substantial it seemed when I compared it to other boys. Yes, I had a crush on him.
He would sometimes appear in my dreams, taking me in his arms and kissing me, and I’d wake up all juicy between my legs. But many time my dreams, both conscious and unconscious, involved a more what you would call kinky activity; I wanted to spank him, pull down his bathing suit and paddle that bottom with my bare hand. I’d fantasize taking him over my knee and slapping his backside till it turned red.
I Often found myself dreaming of spanking and being spanked. I was even excited by the words ‘spank’ spanking’ ‘bare bottom’ ‘over my knee’ etc which would thrill me just by hearing them spoken or seeing them in print and I would sometimes look them up in the dictionary to give myself a little charge.
I’d even occasionally spank myself to feel the pain and sometimes I’d arrange a mirror so I could see my bottom while I spanked it and imagine it was Richard’s I was spanking or that he was spanking me.
In 1959 in the summer of my 19th year, when Richard was about to become, because of where his birthday fell, an 18 year old high school senior, my family rented a 3 bedroom house for 2 weeks in Ocean City.
Richard and I both loved the beach. We would spend hours playing ankara escort in the surf, burying each other in the sand, tossing a beach ball and having a great time.
One day, tired and needing to get ready to go meet some friends, I left Richard at the beach and went to the house to take a shower. I hosed the sand off my feet and legs with the cold outside rinse shower and then walked up the stairs and into the house. I stripped off my suit in the bathroom and assessed my looks in the mirror; A pretty face that at the time I felt was too plain, a good shape with full breasts firm and high on my chest, beautiful pink nipples, hard now after my swim, narrow waist and rounded hips, flat stomach and long tapering legs, cute little feet and toes; nothing to be ashamed of. I turned around and looked at my ass which was so white against my tan. I gave each perfectly round cheek a few firm spanks and smiled as they flushed pink, enjoying the sting and the tingle after. I climbed into the shower and began to soap up.
He must have left right after I did because it wasn’t long before I heard the front door slam and Richard yell, “I’m back” and pad down past the bath, which separated our 2 rooms, and close his door. After a few minutes I looked into the mirror above the sink which was situated in such a way that I could see the reflection of the bathroom door. To my shock I saw it was partially open and Richard was standing there, staring at me. At first I was embarrassed and angry. But then I thought, well maybe I’ll just give him a show. And that’s when this plan blossomed, fully formed it seemed, in my brain.
The plan was simple. Our folks weren’t home, they’d gone up the coast to see a play. With some acting of my own I could make a fantasy come true. I put down the wash cloth and began to soap myself with my hands. I had my back to Richard and I began slowly rubbing my bottom with the soapy lather my hands traveling suggestively over both cheeks and then down the cleft between paying special attention to my asshole. Then I slowly bent over washing my thighs, knees, calves and feet, giving him a full view of my ass and ‘gina, as my friends called it.
I thought I had to be driving him crazy by this time but I had only just begun. I slowly turned around and with my eyes closed and what I hoped was an ecstatic expression on my face, soaped my breasts, pushing them up and together and then around in circles, squeezing them and pinching the nipples. I was starting to get excited myself now and felt a little juiciness between my legs. I lifted one foot and placed it on the edge of the tub and proceeded to wash between my legs. Rocking my hips forward I spread the lips exposing the tender pink inner flesh for him.
That’s when I looked up and our eyes met. I yelled at him “Richard! What are you doing?!” He immediately left and I heard his door slam. I quickly rinsed off and got out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around me I ran to his room and knocked loudly. Not waiting for an answer I barged in. He was sitting on his bed with a book on his lap. (I hoped my acting talents were good enough to pull this off).
“You were spying on me!”
“Why were you spying on me? How long had you been there? Oh God, you saw me naked!”
“I can’t believe this, my own brother is a peeping tom! Were you rubbing yourself while you watched me shower? You were weren’t you?” I grabbed the book from his lap and saw a significant bulge. “You little pervert, I’m going to tell dad!”
My father had a ferocious temper and although he hadn’t in years would sometimes threatened us with the phrase “You’re not to old to go over my knee for a spanking.”
“No, Sandy, you can’t!”
“Oh I not only can, I will.”
“Please, Sandy, he’ll kill me!”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that.”
“Sandy please, don’t tell. I’ll, I’ll do anything you want just don’t tell dad.”
“I’ll bet he spanks you. Yeah, I’ll bet he pulls your pants down and spanks you. He might even let me and mom watch. You’ll be crying like a little girl, over his lap with your pants around your ankles.”
“You deserve to be punished don’t you?”
“Well, then,” I paused, “I’ll give you a choice.”
I hesitated, hoping he didn’t notice how nervous I was.
“Either dad punishes you, or I do.”
“I said you have a choice, either dad spanks you or I spank you. On your bare bottom.” Those words!
“What, no, that’s sick.”
“Take your pick”
“No, no, no way.”
“OK, when dad gets home I’ll tell him what you did. Remember it was your choice.” And I walked out and down the hall to my room.
I sat on the bed, butterflies racing around in my stomach. I reached for my comb and tried combing my hair but my hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t get it through. What would I do if he didn’t fall for it? What would I do if he escort ankara did?!
My answer wasn’t long in coming; I heard the bathroom door close and then the shower start to run. Well, the little bastard had called my bluff. I took off the towel and dried my hair. Then I ran the comb through it. “He knew I wouldn’t tell dad” I thought. I heard the water turn off. That was quick, I thought. A few minutes later there was a knock at my door. “Just a minute” I yelled and quickly threw on my nightie and slid my feet into my slippers. I sat back down on the bed and crossed my legs letting one slipper dangle from my toe, feigning nonchalance.
“Come on in, Richard.”
He came in with his head down and closed the door behind him. He had the towel around his waist and his dark curly hair was still wet.
“OK” he said.
“OK what, Richard” I said combing my hair in the mirror. Where had this urge to torture him come from.
He looked up then and I saw his eyes trace every inch of me stopping to linger on my breasts, which were visible through the sheer fabric, the nipples hard, the areolas puckered, before traveling down my smooth thighs and calves and coming to rest on my feet. I saw beneath the towel, his penis had begun to swell and his mouth was open. I smiled.
“OK, you can…can p – punish me”
“Well, then. That’s good. Good. You made the right choice.” I said, “Now I want you to drop your towel and lay across my lap for your spanking” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.
He came toward me and bent down dropping the towel at the last moment, to hide his erection, before settling over my bare thighs.
I gasped at the sight of his naked form so close, that cute little backside inches from my face, the smooth bronze tan of his back and thighs making the white skin of his round bottom cheeks appear alabaster. I felt his erect penis against my thigh and I imagined the heat it was giving off might actually burn me.
I spent several minutes drinking it in, stroking his skin, my left hand exploring the planes of his back, my right the muscles of his legs and muscular backside, kneading the flesh.
I began to pat his right buttock gently, then, gradually, with more force. I then switched to the left cheek and warmed it up a bit. Soon I was bringing my hand down with full force, raising it above my head before slapping the white skin hard, loving the sound of flesh meeting flesh, covering his entire bottom and delighting in the pink flush that soon appeared.
I stopped for a minute to catch my breath and to adjust his position so that his penis, now fully engorged and throbbing, was between my thighs. The little pervert is loving it, I thought. I pulled him tightly against me and squeezed my legs together imprisoning his erection and began spanking his poor bottom again with full force, feeling the sting in my palm, knowing what his backside must be feeling.
Every smack I delivered pushed his member down between my legs only to bounce up again awaiting the next blow. I felt a sticky wetness and wondered if he’d already orgasmed (I later learned that this was pre-ejaculate or pre-cum). Pretty soon he was moving his hips independent of my spanking, pumping himself in and out between my closed thighs.
I curled my hips forward and pulled him hard against me bringing his thrusts closer to my vagina, spanking him only intermittently. Soon the head of his hard penis was brushing against my outer lips. My head began to swim and I felt my own wetness dripping out of me. He turned slightly and his rigid penis was sliding against my clit, his pre-cum lubricating it, and I could feel my orgasm building in me, my feet tingling and my legs beginning to go weak and starting to vibrate. He was grunting now and moaning I knew he was close too and I wanted desperately to have him spurt his climax inside me. I threw my leg wide opening myself for him, grasping his overheated bottom and pulled him to me and I felt the head begin to enter me. And just then he yelled “NO! NO! We can’t, Sis, we can’t” and start to pull himself off me.
I grabbed him, wrapping my arms and legs around him, holding on for dear life.
“It’s wrong Sandy, you’re my sister, we can’t do this!”
“shhh, shh, it’s OK, it’s OK, I love you Richard, I love you. And I know you love me. It can’t be wrong if it’s love can it. We can talk about this.”
I knew I couldn’t let him leave. Everything had changed and we were never going to be the way we were. We had to move to the next stage. If I let him go we’d always be uncomfortable with each other, cold and formal with each other, barely exchanging glances. Like Mom and Uncle Jack, I thought. We had to keep going and see this through.
It took several minutes of soothing and holding him, rubbing his temples and neck, lying on our sides to calm him down.
“We need to talk about this” I said as he relaxed a bit, “Rich, do you have a girlfriend?”
“Have you ever had one?”
“Mmmmm, not really”
“Why ankara escort bayan do you think that is, Richard? Your gorgeous. Every girl I know thinks so. Any one of them would drop their panties for you, all you’d have to do is ask.”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Rich, never had one. Look at me.” He did. A long appraising look covering every inch. My nightie was bunched up beneath my breasts and my belly was bare. He could see everything.
“You’re beautiful, everyone says so”. he said
“So why aren’t we with someone?”
“I don’t know”
“I think you do. It’s because for you to have a girl or me to have a guy would be cheating”
“It would be like being unfaithful. Richie, we were made for each other. I’ve known it all along and I think you have too. I postponed going off to college because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you. There’s no one else for us, we’re like 2 halves of the same person.”
He thought about this for awhile. Then,
“Maybe. I know I don’t want anyone else, I always wished we weren’t brother and sister then we could be together.”
“That’s just an accident of birth, Rich, if we’d been born to other parents, we’d still be the same people. Why should it stand in the way when we know there’s no one else who even comes close?”
We lay there for a long time, Rich on his back and me on my side.
I looked down at his penis, his erection still in full bloom, throbbing gently with his heartbeat,the head dark red, almost purple. A substantial pool of Pre-cum had formed on his abdomen and was dripping steadily from the opening of his penis which looked like it desperately needed to be touched.
“Is it uncomfortable when it’s hard like that?” I said. He knew what I meant.
“Sometimes. Sometimes my balls hurt when it’s been hard for a long time and I haven’t…you know. The pressure builds up.”
“Would you let me relieve the pressure?” I asked.
I sat up and slipped the nightie over my head. Completely nude I let him admire me for awhile then I took his hand and put it on my breast. He squeezed.
“Gently.” I said and I let his hands wander over me. It was heaven to feel him feel me, my breasts and belly, my hips. I turned slightly so he could feel and squeeze my bottom and I thought I might actually orgasm right then.
But I realized his need was perhaps even greater than my own.
I leaned over and kissed him opening my lips and touching his with my tongue. His lips were so much softer than I had imagined and they parted and we let our tongues dance for a long time. His right arm was around me crushing me to him and his left hand returned to on my breast. I let my hand wander down his abdomen veering at the last moment to trace a line down his hip to his thigh. Parting his legs as my hand moved inside. I lightly stroked his inner thigh getting closer and closer to his balls. When I finally touched them, he gasped slightly. I played with them for awhile, rolling them in my hand amazed at the way they felt and how heavy the were. Filled with cum, I thought. I knew how badly he needed release but I wanted to make this moment last.
I traced my finger tip lightly over his balls, upward to the base of his penis and slowly made my way to the head. And then down again over and over just lightly stroking it.
“What Rich, what do want? Tell me. I’ll do anything you want, just tell me.” And I would have. If he had said I should sit on it and slide it into my bottom, I would have.
“Put it in your mouth”.
I didn’t hesitate, I bent down and put my lips at the tip, and then imagining my mouth as a vagina, I lowered my head letting the slick velvety soft head push my lips apart and gain entrance. I continued to swallow his shaft until it started to gag me. It tasted salty and vaguely like the ocean. I slid it back out of my mouth and then back in again in a slow sultry rhythm.
In seconds he was moaning and holding my head as he pumped himself into and out of my mouth faster and faster, thrusting as deep as I would let him. I knew he was close and I wanted to taste his semen and feel it splash into my mouth and down my throat. But at the last minute he pulled out. “I don’t want to come in your mouth” he said.
“But I want you to.”
“No.” he said.
He started pumping himself with his hand but I pushed it away and grasped the shaft myself, pumping, I hoped, in the same way he had been.
“Is this good? Am I doing it right?” I asked, “Are you going to come?”
“Yes, sweetheart, yes! yes! I’m….Com….ing!” His face looked like he was in extreme agony as I felt the thick semen pumping out of his balls and up into the shaft and then spurt in spasms that shot all the way over his shoulder to my pillow. He was making strangled moans that came from deep inside his chest as again and again his cum spurted out of him.
When at last he was spent, I just stared at him in amazement. His eyes were closed and his breathing was smoothing out with occasional soft gasps. Thick ropes of milky white fluid extended from his abdomen almost to my head board. I was still holding his penis, feeling his pulse returning to normal.
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