His closed eyes shut even tighter, his body went rigid and arched, his breathing stopped as the first spurt of his come landed on his chest, the second just above his navel, and the third and last simply slid out and down his cock onto his thumb. For a moment he stayed thus, motionless, but then, with a sudden gulp of air, his body relaxed onto his bed.
He heard a noise, or thought he did, and his eyes shot open. Nothing! Except “Why is my door open?” He thought. And then he remembered that his mother had left it open after she had woken him earlier, to remind him to cut the lawn, and to tell him she was leaving for her Gardening Club meeting. “And Dad’s probably golfing,” he thought and relaxed again, pulling the sheet over his nude body. He thought of the lawn, and of Karen, and then drifted off to sleep. He loved Saturdays.
Another noise, a crash really, and a shout, and he was instantly awake and out of bed on an initial rush of adrenaline, and then he froze, crouched like a runner, his arm extended, his hand on the bed for balance. And then the source of the commotion penetrated his brain, and he relaxed with a sigh, slumping onto the edge of the bed, his face covered with beads of perspiration. His sister Cathy must have dropped a pot or pan in the kitchen. He still hadn’t adjusted to having her home again, it had only been two days, and then he thought that by the time he had adjusted, it would probably be time for her to return to school.
She glanced up and smiled as Joey sauntered into the kitchen and draped himself across a kitchen chair.
“Good morning,” she said softly, and asked, “Would you like some breakfast?”
“I usually have cereal,” he answered, looking up at his sister. He was amazed again at how much prettier she had gotten during the past year, but realized that it was more likely his changing perceptions. She had bigger breasts than Karen, he noticed while wondering how big Karen’s would get. For a moment he watched her bare legs, and then wondered if she was wearing anything beneath her robe. The thought made his penis begin to harden.
“I was thinking of making pancakes. If you’d like a change, I’ll make some for you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at her brother while thinking that he had become a young man during the past year.
“Oh great!” He replied and grinned at her.
“What do you drink?” She asked as she began to triple the proportions in her mixing bowl.
“Milk,” he replied. “I’ll get it. What do you want?”
“Coffee, but I already have a mug. Thanks. You could get the syrup though,” she answered.
She gave the first stack of pancakes to him, and asked, “So what’s Karen like?”
The question surprised him and he flushed crimson. His face was hot as he stared at his sister, his mouth open. But finally he composed himself, wiped his forehead, and asked, “How do you know about Karen?”
Cathy laughed and stepped to Joey’s chair. She bent, laying her head next to his and slipped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him. “Because you’re on the phone with her all the time,” she answered and went back to her griddle.
Joey felt relieved and answered, “She’s nice.”
“Nice?” Cathy replied in a tone he recognized. The same tone his mother used when he was evasive in his answers. She sat down at the table and picked up the syrup bottle. Upending it, she squirted a crisscross pattern of syrup on her pancakes. She set the bottle back on the table, glanced at Joey and smiled.
He knew a question was coming, but about what he didn’t know. Or when it would come. She took a lot more time than mom, and he began to feel nervous with the anticipation of the question. His face felt hot. She bent slightly and took a bite of pancake. Joey stared and his penis throbbed when he saw the top of one of her breasts, and realized that she must be nude beneath her robe. He blushed but kept staring; he desperately wanted to see more, and his penis hardened further.
“Does she help you?” Cathy finally asked, a mischievous smile upon her face. She stared at her brother and saw his confused expression, and waited.
“Help me? Help me do what?” He finally asked, totally confused by Cathy’s question.
“Does she touch you like you were touching yourself this morning?” She asked softly, her eyes gleaming.
Joey flushed beet red and his eyes fixed on his faintly smiling sister while his mouth opened and closed several times without uttering a silent sound. Finally he barely managed to croak, “You didn’t see that!”
“Oh but I did Joey, I did. I even liked it,” she finished softly, a gentle expression on her face. She let her fingertips rest softly on his wrist.
“Don’t tell mom,” Joey pleaded with genuine panic in his voice and expression.
“Does she touch you?” She asked again, as softly and gently as she could. Her fingers on his wrist curled just slightly, just enough so that he could feel her nails barely scraping his wrist.
“No,” he stammered softly, flushed, perspiration beading on his forehead, while he wished that she did touch him. He wished it every time he touched himself, every time they kissed, often when they were just holding hands, or sitting close and watching TV together.
“Why not?” Cathy asked softly, but the question interrupted and startled him nevertheless. Joey stared at his sister, his expression blank. He turned her question every way in his mind, but couldn’t fathom the meaning of it; but she continued to sit, faintly smiling at him, waiting patiently for an answer. At least he thought she was waiting for him to answer.
“I don’t know why not,” he finally answered, and felt that he was back at school, when his teacher had asked him, “And Joey, what is a lyric poem?”
“Do you touch her?” Cathy asked, persisting in her questioning.
“No,” he answered quickly. A tone of frustration in his voice as the failure of another of his dreams was brought to light. He pushed back from the table, and said, to no one in particular, “I’ve got to mow the grass.”
Cathy watched him leave, cross the deck, and disappear. She thought that if Karen were as shy and unaggressive as her brother was, they’d both still be innocents four years from now when they graduated high school. She wondered what Karen was like, her mom had said that she was a very considerate, bright, pretty, and mature young lady. Coming from her mom, that was a considerable recommendation.
After Cathy loaded and started the dishwasher, she went upstairs and exchanged her robe for a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt. Back in the kitchen, she fixed herself another cup of coffee and carried it, and the morning paper, out onto the deck.
Joey was almost half done mowing the back yard when Cathy caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a beautiful young girl. Taller than herself, slender with a body that was already nicely curved, short, dark blonde hair. She stood, hands on her hips, watching Joey.
“Hi,” Cathy called to her. “You must be Karen.”
The young girl jumped, startled, and turned towards Cathy with her hand on her mouth.
“Oh! I didn’t see you there. You scared me. Sorry. Yes, I’m Karen. And you must be Cathy,” she said as she came up onto the deck.
“I am,” Cathy replied. “Have a seat. I’m just sitting and enjoying watching Joey work.”
Karen glanced at Cathy and slowly smiled, and said, “I too enjoy watching him.”
Cathy stared at her for a moment, and then said, “You’re a very restrained young lady.”
Karen giggled and turned her gaze towards Joey.
“Would you like something to drink?” Cathy asked her.
“Oh no,” she replied quickly, turning back to Cathy. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother,” Cathy replied while getting up. “I have to go for more coffee anyway.”
“Iced tea?” Karen replied with a slight tilt of her head. “Can I help?”
“No, I can get it. You might want to see if Joey would like something.”
“Oh, he’ll want tea too,” she replied, “and you’ll have too much to carry. I’ll help,” and she got up.
Cathy watched as Karen carried a glass of iced tea out to Joey. He stopped, killed the mower, and smiled when he noticed her coming across the lawn. They kissed, just a peck, and she offered him the tea. While he drank it, she laid her hand on his upper arm and stroked it. He handed the glass back to her and they talked for a moment. Then they kissed again. More than a peck, but not passionate either. Enough that he’s probably hard, Cathy thought. Karen’s hand slid down Joey’s arm until they were holding hands, and then she started back towards the house. Joey watched her for a moment, and then bent to restart the mower.
Cathy and Karen watched Joey work on the yard and chatted, and when he finished the back yard, they moved to the front steps so Karen could continue watching him while they continued their conversation.
Joey and Karen went to the movies later that Saturday afternoon, and after, they walked back, holding hands, to her house. He was invited to have dinner with her family – they were going to order pizza; and after dinner her parents went to relax and read on the patio while Joey helped Karen clean up the kitchen and do the dishes. Joey wanted her, and had wanted her, so badly he frequently could think of nothing else. Today was especially bad for him. Whenever they were alone, she was touching his arm, or giving him a little kiss. And Cathy! He couldn’t forget Cathy’s question, and it made not having Karen especially painful.
“What are you thinking about?” Karen asked him, and the question brought him back from his reverie and softened his erection.
He almost blurted out how much he desired her, how much he lusted after her, how she tormented his thoughts, how much he wanted to see her breast, and suck it, and touch her, and shove his hard cock into her, and into her hand, but instead, he shrugged his shoulders, and replied with difficulty, “Nothing.”
“I think you were daydreaming about something,” she replied with quiet emphasis, touching his arm, but then asked, “You want to watch TV?”
“Your father and I are going to the Johnson’s for brunch after church,” Cathy’s mother informed her, and Joey, as they were all getting ready for church. “You’re welcome to join us. Their son is home from Cornell for the summer. He’s a very nice young man. Handsome, and he’s starting law school next year.”
“What’s his name?” Cathy asked.
“Greg,” Mrs. Austin answered. “So you’ll join us?” She asked again and waited for an answer with her head tilted and her eyebrows arched, hoping her daughter would accept the invitation.
“Thanks mom, but not today. I think I’ll walk home after service,” she answered while thinking that after the past year at school, the last thing she needed was another male friend, lover, relationship, or whatever her mother thought she might be instigating.
Her mother studied her for a moment, but said nothing further. Finally, turning to Joey, she continued, “Joey. You’ll come?”
“Na,” he replied. “I’ll walk home with Cath.”
“And what will you do for lunch?” Their mother asked Joey.
“I’ll fix something for us,” Cathy replied.
They walked the first quarter-mile in silence, and then Joey asked, “Cath?”
She glanced up at her brother, absorbed his expression, slipped her arm through his, and replied, “What Joey?”
“How do I ask her?” He said, a plaintive plea in the tone of his voice.
They walked another block in silence, they Cathy replied, “I don’t know Joey. There’s a million ways. Maybe when you’re with her and you’re excited, you should just touch her. Gently.”
“I couldn’t,” Joey instantly responded, his voice raspy. “Is that terrible?”
“No Joey. It’s not terrible. Not at all. Maybe it’s even one of your charms for her. People are so strange,” she finished softly, almost as if speaking to herself. They walked another half-block in silence and then Cathy asked a question that she felt confident she knew the answer to, “Is she your friend?”
“Yeah,” he replied and smiled down at Cathy.
“Maybe you should just talk to her Joey. Tell her what you’re feeling.”
“But what should I say?” He asked, knowing that he had no words to tell her what his mind and body felt. What he wanted, and wanted for them, and wanted for her to want.
“I don’t know Joey,” she said with a hint of frustration and sadness in her voice. “I don’t know. Not for you. Not even for me.”
They were almost home, when Cathy added, “She likes you Joey. I think she’d like it if you’d talk to her. Even if you don’t know what to say. Just stumble along. I don’t think she’d mind. Talk to her like you talk to me. Just that little bit. It would be a start. You won’t have to do it all. Maybe if you can tell her a single feeling, she’ll feel free to tell you one. But Joey, there’s no wonderful place you need to get to. It’s becoming friends that matters.”
They were standing on their small front porch, and Cathy was trying to unlock the door with tears in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Joey asked, touching her arm, bending to look closely into her face.
“Yes Joey, I’m fine,” she replied as the front door swung open and she straightened, smiling up at Joey, her eyes still moist. “Does what I just said make any sense to you?”
Joey stared at her for a moment, and then replied, “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess so. I guess it makes sense.”
The following week passed quickly for Cathy and slowly for Joey.
She started a summer job and discovered that Allan, who last summer had swept her off her feet, was no longer capable of even changing her pulse rate. And one evening over coffee she discovered that Carlyn, whom she used to consider as barely a friend and rather strange, now seemed funny, wise, and brilliant.
Joey on the other hand struggled the entire week trying to control his emotions and hunger for Karen while also attempting to communicate those feelings and desires to her. But the few embarrassed and tangled phrases that he actually articulated to her were answered with confused glances and unsteady smiles.
It was another beautiful Saturday morning and Cathy sat at the small desk in her bedroom writing in her diary.
“Are you going to be home this evening?” Her mother asked, interrupting her, from the doorway of her bedroom.
“Until midnight or so,” Cathy answered, turning to look at her mom. “Why?”
“You’re going out at midnight?” Her mother asked in a pitched voice.
Cathy chuckled softly at the tone of her voice, but explained, “Carlyn doesn’t get off work until eleven-thirty. We thought we’d go out for a cappuccino. Okay?” She smiled at her mom, knowing that she would approve of the planned activity.
“Well that will be nice,” she replied. “But you’ll be home till then?”
“I plan to be,” Cathy answered. “Why?”
“Well the kids just left for the zoo, but after, your gallant young brother wants to come back and grill hamburgers for the two of them, and then watch a video.”
“Really!” Cathy exclaimed with surprise. Then, smiling at her mother, she said with a teasing voice, “She must be something special. I’ve never had a date cook for me.” She laughed softly, but felt proud of her little brother.
Her mother smiled, and replied, “He is a remarkable young man,” and then seemed to drift into a reverie.
“You still haven’t told me why you wanted to know if I was going to be here this evening?” Cathy asked again, interrupting her mother’s daydream.
“Oh,” she said, surprised to hear her daughter’s voice, “your father and I had plans to go out to dinner and then a concert, and – Well, I didn’t want them here alone. But we’ll be home long before midnight. You’ll keep an eye on them?”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” she replied with a smile, and added, “Do I get a hamburger out of the deal?”
Her mother smiled in return, and replied, “You’ll have to negotiate that with your brother.” She chuckled softly.
“I think I can manage,” Cathy replied with an amused but slightly devious look.
Her mother laughed and said, “Try not to be too intrusive. But thanks.”
Cathy smiled again, and said, “You’re welcome. You and dad have a good time.”
“I think we will, thank you,” she answered with a smile, and then turned and walked away. Cathy turned back to her desk, reorganized her thoughts, and continued writing.
Cathy sat on the deck and watched Joey grill hamburgers. Karen sat with her, chatting, except when Joey asked her to run for something. Or to take care of some detail that he decided or remembered needed attention and was unable to do himself.
After dinner, Cathy surprised them with strawberry short cake, and then Karen insisted that she and Joey would clean and tidy everything. While Karen was scurrying about the kitchen putting away dishes, she invited Cathy, despite a stern and discouraging look from Joey, to watch a movie with them. Cathy glanced at Joey and smiled, as much to herself as to Karen and Joey. She thanked Karen, but declined the invitation, saying that there was a book that she wanted to finish. Then, excusing herself, she left them in the kitchen, went upstairs, spread out on her bed, stared out the window for several minutes, and then opened her book.
Joey sprawled on the couch, one leg thrust out, the other bent with his ankle on his knee. One arm lay along the back of the couch while the other encircled Karen, holding her against him. She sat with her legs tucked under her, curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder, gently held there by his arm. They kissed and touched and watched each other as much as they watched the movie. She was content, and patient while he was frustrated, and unsure. When he felt her breath on his neck, it made his cock harden. He wanted her, wanted to crush her to himself. And he wanted, needed, to touch her, and have her touch him.
The back of her right hand rested against his waist, the palm of her left rested lightly on his stomach. He closed his eyes and failed in his attempt to move her hand two inches with only his thoughts. His arm moved and tightened about her, his fingertip inadvertently pressed into the side of her breast; and despite the layers of fabric between them, she felt his touch, welcomed it, and she twisted slightly so next time her breast would be almost unnoticeably more accessible.
With a huge gulp of air, he shifted, moving his arm from the back of the couch, letting his hand rest very lightly on hers, trapping it between his hand and stomach.
She smiled and glanced up at him, and lightly kissed his jaw. Turning her glance to their hands, she moved her thumb, freeing it, using it to slowly rub the side of his hand.
He pulled her closer with his arm, held her tight while his hand pressed her hand tighter against his stomach. Tighter and down a fraction of an inch. He again closed his eyes and took another deep breath while hoping that she didn’t notice the growing and moving bulge in his pants.
When his eyes opened, she was watching him, her lips slightly parted. He could feel her breath on his chin. They kissed, and it started as playfully, as softly, as a hundred other of their kisses had, but the tempo was different in a way that he didn’t comprehend, and his mind stopped thinking. He just wanted to hold her and he closed both his arms around her, pulling her, twisting her body to fit against his. And she responded, her hand pressed his stomach, her tongue licked pass his lips and stroked his tongue.
He closed his lips around her tongue and sucked. Then he felt her touch.
“Oh God!” He wailed. “Oh God!”
In an instant, she was kneeling next to him, an arm around his shoulders, her other hand almost floating over the tight material holding his hard cock, her lips covering the side of his face, his neck, with small kisses. She kissed his ear, licked it, and slipped her hand up, pressing her palm into his hard stomach, her fingertips glided under his jeans, under the elastic band of his shorts, and she whispered, her lips still against his ear, “Oh Joey, I wanna see, I want to, oh Joey, Joey,” and her lips caressed the side of his face in a hundred kisses. She found his eyes and licked them, but he remained motionless. She kissed him and he couldn’t breath, but he moved. He broke the kiss and with a gulp of air, crushed her to him.
“Please Joey, please,” she pleaded. “I wanna see you. I wanna see you. Help me, help me, please,” and with a single hand, he tore his jeans open, and desperately struggled to lower his jeans and shorts with a single hand. Then Karen was helping and suddenly he wore nothing but his shirt, and she was kneeling next to him with both her arms around his neck, trying to kiss him sideways as she stared at his twitching, erect cock. “Oh Joey, I love, I love you, oh Joey, oh Joey, you’re so beautiful.”
“Touch me,” he said in a voice so raspy, so guttural, that his tone, his movements, told her more than his words.
“Yes,” she whispered as, trancelike, she continued staring at his erection. “Yes,” and she reached out slowly, and gently placed the tip of her index finger on the underside of his cock, where the swollen head joined the shaft.
His body froze except for his throbbing cock. His head fell back and a dreadful, wailing moan escaped him. Karen stared at him, eyes wide, almost fearful, but she keeps her fingertip pressed motionless against his cock.
“Hold me,” he groaned, and tensed his buttocks, trying to thrust his cock against her fingertip. Slowly, she slid her fingertip down the fleshy underside of his cock, and then carefully, very gently, she closed her hand softly around his cock and saw that the end of it was glistening with moisture.
His muscles ached from the tenseness throughout his rigid body. He tried through tenseness and thought to thrust into her hand, but to no effect; his body wouldn’t move, and he cried and moaned in frustration, desperate for relief.
“Harder,” he cried, and tried to thrust into her hand. She tightened her grip, but still held him gently, afraid of hurting him. “Harder,” he moaned again.
“Help me Joey,” she softly pleaded, hearing his pain. “Help me, help me Joey, please.” Suddenly his hand closed around hers, squeezing her hand so tightly she cried out in pain. He began moving their entwined hands up and down his cock.
“I’m gonna come,” he hoarsely whispered; and Karen, wide eyed, suddenly covered the tip of his cock with her other hand and felt his hot, slippery come in her hand, and then she opened her hand and stared as his cock throbbed and filled her cupped hand with a puddle of hot, sticky come. She stared at his cock, at her palm, until his hand pressing over hers on his cock relaxed, and then she looked at him, searching his face, trying to discover if he was pleased.
He looked at her blankly, then reached for her and tried to kiss her, but his lips were trembling so much that he couldn’t. Instead, he buried his face in her neck and cried and held her. She let herself be held, and even slipped her now free hand up to touch his check while she tried to keep her other hand level and cupped in order to save what he had given her.
For a long time, he just held her. Finally his breathing slowed and he sighed and slumped down into the couch. She closed her hand into a fist and hoped that it wouldn’t leak, and snuggled against him.
“Was it good?” She whispered.
“Oh God yes!” He sobbed and tightened his arms around her.