My sister Scarlett and I sat in silence in the tall grass, watching our bobbers float motionlessly on the glass-still water. I don't think they'd drifted an inch in the past hour. There was no breeze. It wasn't too hot, though, because of the clouds.
I rolled a joint, and we passed that back and forth till it was gone, and then we just sat and listened to the birds twitter in the trees. After a while, I realized the leaves weren't rustling, which I thought was strange. Usually when you're around trees, you can hear the leaves rustling.
Our worms had been underwater for quite a long while. I wondered if they were still alive down there. Poor things. From their point of view, I guess we were pretty evil, impaling them on big barbed hooks like we did, and casting them into the bass-infested waters.
I kind of hoped no fish would bite. I was pleasantly stoned, and I'd gotten accustomed to the stillness. A hooked fish would make a commotion, and I didn't want to deal with that. On top of which, a fish would be wet and slimy, whereas I was nice and dry. So, I imagined I had telepathy, and I beamed a warning to all the fishes about the dangers lurking in our dangling worms. This seemed to work, because neither Scarlett nor I got so much as a nibble all afternoon. Anyway, I was hungry for beef.
Out of the blue, Scarlett broke the silence. "Are you a virgin," she asked.
This was an odd question for many reasons. First of all, I believe it's generally not usual for eighteen-year-old brothers and sisters to converse about their sex lives. But even if I'm wrong about this, and it is usual for siblings to speak freely of their sexual exploits, this was certainly not the case in our family. Our family would talk about politics, science, philosophy, and whatever else have you. But if there's one thing we didn't discuss, it was sex. Not once, ever. Our Scandinavian ancestors had given up Protestantism several generations earlier, but the ethos still lingered in certain respects.
Also, this was an unusual question because of Scarlett herself. She was a perfectly asexual being, I'd always believed. Not because she was ugly or defective or anything. In fact, she's strikingly beautiful. It's just that she'd always seemed too pure and ethereal to give any thought to fleshy matters. She'd never shown the slightest interest in boys, not the ones at school, nor even celebrities. There were no posters of sullen actors or effeminate boy bands hanging from her walls. She hated sappy love songs. She'd never been on a real date, as far as I knew. Earlier that spring, she did attend our senior prom, but her "date" was her gay friend Ben—who's very, very gay, indeed—and her nerdy friend Fiona tagged along and made it a sexless trio.
So, that's why I was so surprised when Scarlett all of a sudden asked me if I was virgin, for no reason that was readily apparent.
I didn't especially want to answer this question. So, I squinted harder at my bobber and pretended I was so absorbed in my fishing I hadn't heard her. But that didn't work. She just asked again.
"I don't know," I said. "Kind of."
"What do you mean 'kind of?' You're either a virgin or you're not, right?"
"Well, it's complicated."
"How is it complicated?"
"How 'bout them Packers?"
"Did you fuck Renee Tracy?"
I was a bit taken aback hearing my sister use the word fuck in a sexual context. It made me frown. "Why are you asking me this?"
"I just want to know. Why are you being such a prude?"
"I'm not a prude."
"So, did you fuck Renee?"
"No, we did not have intercourse."
"Does that mean you did other stuff with her?"
"Yeah, we did stuff."
"Sexual stuff, I mean?"
"We made out a few times. That's about it."
"Did she give you a blow job?"
"Jesus, Scarlett. How do you even know about blow jobs?"
"Why would I not know about blow jobs? I didn't grow up in a convent."
"Well, she didn't give me a blow job. I wish she would have, but alas..."
"What about Edith Orbeck? I heard you fondled her boobs at the homecoming dance."
"I did'nt fondle her boobs. We were dancing, and she wanted to sneak behind the stage curtains. It was 100% her idea. So, we went back there, and we were kissing. My hands were around her waist, and she slid one of them up and put it on her boob."
"Well, that's fondling."
"But not in a bad way."
"She didn't say it was bad."
"She told you?"
"Jesus. Why do girls talk about that stuff?"
"I don't know. We just do. She said you also fondled her butt."
"Yeah, that part was my idea. Unfortunately, it was as far as I ever got with her."
"What about Jenny Li? Did you fuck her?"
"Are you going to interrogate me about every girl in school?"
"I just want to know how you're 'kind of' a virgin."
"Well, it's a tawdry tale. And I don't want to dirty your ears."
"My ears are pretty dirty already. I'm not as innocent as you think."
"Well, fine, OK, I'll tell you. But I can't name any names. I'll just say there was an older woman involved. A married woman."
"Yeah, I know it's bad. I feel like a douche about the whole thing, quite honestly. But I couldn't help myself. Y'know? It's always been a fantasy of mine to be seduced by a predatory older woman. A cougar. And she's so sexy. So, yeah."
"Was it Mrs. Flory?"
"Jesus! There aren't any rumors going around, are there?"
"I don't think so. I just guessed."
"How could you possibly...?"
"Well, one day, I saw you coming out of her classroom, and she was sitting inside at her desk, and the way she was looking at you as you walked out the door... It made me think 'hmmm.' But then I forgot about it until just now, when you said about an older woman. And she is sexy. I can see how you'd want to commit adultery with her."
"She's fucking gorgeous. That face. It's like something out of a painting. And then she's got those great big floppy titties with the freckles all over her chest. Mmmm."
"Isn't her husband a policeman?"
"Don't remind me."
"I can picture how it happened. You were working on the yearbook staff, in that little closet in the back of her classroom with the computers. It was getting close to the printer's deadline, and you were working late nights finishing up the layouts. Mrs. Stone stayed to offer her expert advice. And it was just you and her alone in that little closet..."
"Well, yeah, that's kind of right. I first got to know her through working on the yearbook staff. Except the flirting started almost from the moment we met. We had instant chemistry."
"Did you bend her over that big oak desk?"
"Sadly, nothing really naughty ever happened in the classroom. Too dangerous. Even late at night, there may be janitors lurking about, or the occasional stray student or faculty member."
"So, I guess she'd take you to one of those sleazy motels on the highway? Smitty's, or the Spread Eagle?"
"Haha, no. She had a, um, sympathetic friend. A lady who would actually let us borrow her house for our trysts. She'd clear out and go to the movies, or whatever."
"Wow, that was nice. I bet it was Miss Flory, wasn't it?"
"You'd make a frighteningly good detective."
"It's just that I always see those two hanging around together at school. I've actually kind of wondered if they were lovers sometimes. Something about their body language."
"Uh, I don't think so. But that would have been amazing. A threesome with two hot bisexual teachers."
"I kind of get the feeling Miss Flory isn't bi."
"Hmm, well, those two are definitely tight-knit. Miss Flory would even cook us dinner sometimes. Really good dinners, with candles and everything. It was like a fancy restaurant. She'd serve us our food, give us a little wink, and then off she'd go. She didn't seem to mind the bodily fluids we were about to spill all over her bed."
"So, then, you're definitely not a virgin? You totally fucked Mrs. Stone?"
"Well, that's the weird part. Just about anything you can imagine that two people could do with their bodies, we did it, Liz and I—Mrs. Stone, I mean. She's a bona fide freak. We did stuff you don't even want to know about. Filthy, perverted stuff. But the one thing we never did do was to actually fuck. At least, not technically. I mean, I fucked different parts of her body, but just not her pussy."
"Did you do anal?"
"Scarlett, please tell me you don't know about anal."
"I do know about anal. Sorry."
"Uggh. That's unfortunate."
"It's a very erogenous zone. Or so I've heard."
"Yes, well, maybe. But, no, Liz and I, we didn't do genuine anal. I mean, I kind of fucked her ass cheeks, but not her actual ass. If that makes sense."
"Like a hot dog in a bun, but not like a screw in a nut."
"Exactly. That was her rule. No penetration. I fucked pretty much every part of her body that you could squeeze together—her butt cheeks, her tits, her thighs, even her armpits. But she wouldn't let me put my dick inside her. I guess, that way, she felt like wasn't technically cheating on her husband. Which was complete nonsense, of course. But she was adamant."
"I understand exactly. She's probably got penetration-phobia."
"No, trust me, she loves being penetrated. With fingers, tongues, dildos, etcetera—she's probably got the world's foremost collection of dildos and vibrators—in each and every one of her orifices. She just wouldn't let me put my dick inside her. It was very frustrating and it made no sense."
"It makes perfect sense to me."
"No, it really doesn't. Because, the thing is, every time when I was getting ready to cum, she would want me to get between her legs and cum all over her pussy. She'd even spread her lips so my sperm would go inside her. So, how does that make sense? If she wanted me to cum inside her, then why wouldn't she just let me fuck her? I mean, the whole point of 'thou shalt not commit adultery' is so you don't make babies with someone other than your spouse, right? It's not about the technicalities of penetration."
"Hmm. Was she on birth control?"
"I dunno. I'm worried about that, actually. I asked her about it a bunch of times, but every time she would just say, 'Don't worry about it,' and change the subject."
"Could she have been trying to get pregnant?"
"Possibly. To be honest, that's kind of the vibe I got. It's pretty fucked up if that's true."
"When was the last time you got together?"
"Like, two weeks ago. Just before graduation. And then suddenly, right after that, she said she couldn't see me anymore. No explanations. That's why I was in such a crappy mood at our graduation party, if you noticed."
"Yes, you were being quite the poopyhead there for several days, as I recall."
"You know what, though? If Mrs. Stone does get pregnant, I guess you could say it was a virgin birth."
"Well, whatever. I don't think her husband the cop would be quite as understanding as that dude from the Bible."
"But if he made her take a lie-detector test, she could honestly say she'd never had extramarital sex."
"Maybe, but that wouldn't fool a DNA test."
"No, I guess not."
"So this is the thing, though. This is why I'm not actually sure if I could still be considered a virgin."
"You never penetrated her, so yeah, you still are."
"But I came directly inside her pussy like 40 times. Plus, I rubbed my dick all over her pussy lips, and the head definitely slipped inside her a few times, you know, like just a few millimeters or so, but I still think that might count."
"No, it doesn't count."
"And also because of this: one of her favourite activities was that she would lay on her back, like missionary-style, and she'd squeeze her thighs together. Then I'd lay on top of her and put my dick between her thighs, right up in her bush, and I'd sort of fuck her like that. She had these big meaty lips, y'know, down there, and they'd wrap around my dick, and she'd get all wet and slippery, and it felt exactly like real sex. I mean, I've never had real sex, but I can't imagine it feels any different. And then I'd cum all over her pussy."
"Well, I'd still say you're a virgin, technically. Even though you're sexually experienced."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Kind of like me."
"I'm a virgin, too, even though I've had sexual experiences. Just like you, I've even had adultery with a teacher. Kind of."
"No! Say it isn't so!"
"It's so. But only with my hand."
"I jerked off Mr. Hittle."
"What? You jerked off Barney Rubble?"
"He doesn't look like Barney Rubble. He's sexy, kind of."
"Oh, God! How could you?"
"Because I wanted to."
"I've jerked off loads of guys."
"Adam Rausch, Devin Sheets, Mike Christlieb..."
"You've jerked off all of my friends?"
"Pretty much, except for Tyler Stahlbeck. No offense, but he's kind of a douche."
"I'll kill them! Why did you let those assholes take advantage of you?"
"They didn't take advantage of me. I took advantage of them. I love wrapping my hands around a big cock, or a small cock, or a medium cock. I'm a total hand-slut. Stroking cocks gives me pleasure."
"That's fucking strange. I can't comprehend."
"Do you remember that week when Evan Gerber's parents were out of town?"
"Yeah, when his grandma died."
"And he had a party every night with his friends."
"Yeah, those guys invited me. I didn't go because they're a pack of dorks. I'm sure those parties were nothing but sausage fests."
"Exactly. I was the only girl."
"Oh, no. Don't tell me."
"Yup. We'd always play strip poker, and somehow I always managed to lose. Those guys must have thought I was the world's worst poker player, hehehe. Anyway, after I was out of the game, I had to find something new to entertain myself, so I'd get down underneath the table, and make my way around, one at a time."
"Funny, they always switched to regular poker—with money—shortly after I was out of the game."
"So, basically, our entire school knows you as this rampaging slut who will jerk off any penis that happens to pop up in front of you."
"Yeah, kind of."
"How is it that I've never been aware of this?"
"Maybe people didn't tell you because they thought you'd be upset?"
"I'm a little upset."
"I don't see what's so bad about making people feel good. The world would be a better place if more people would give each other pleasure."
"So, we should all just go around masturbating strangers?"
"That sounds good to me."
"So, how many of these losers have you fucked?"
"Zero. I told you, I'm a virgin. I like stroking cocks, but I don't want one inside me. I don't fuck. I don't suck. I have penetration-phobia, sort of like you and Mrs. Stone. Except I don't even want a penis to touch me, except in my hand."
"This is all very unusual."
"Yep, I have an unusual sexuality, I know. Also, I think I may be a lesbian."
"I'm starting to think you're just fucking with me. You're making all this up, aren't you."
"No, I'm definitely not."
"Have you ever been with a girl?"
"Remember when I went on that ski trip with Jeri Sunderland and her church group?"
"Well, the Holiday Inn where we stayed had a hot tub, and Jeri and I were sitting in it together, and my hand kind of drifted onto her thigh, and she didn't seem to mind, so I ended up fingering her through her bathing suit. I had her right on the verge of orgasm, I think, when her brother Seth came along and plopped himself into the hot tub."
"That must have been awkward."
"A little, yeah."
"I suppose you could've relieved the tension by jerking off Seth with your other hand."
"Well, the Sunderlands are church folk."
"Yeah. Anyway, when we got back to our room, I told Jeri I wanted to finish what we'd started. But she was really spooked by that point. And that's why we're not friends anymore."
"That kind of sucks."
"We weren't that good of friends, anyway. But I would have loved to have fucked her."
"You would eat another girl's pussy?"
"Would you let a girl finger you?"
"What about your penetration-phobia?"
"It only applies to men."
"I see. So, you're a lesbian who likes to jerk off dicks."
"You're a strange girl, Scarlett."
"Wouldn't you do the same? I mean, what if all you had to do was ask, and almost any girl would let you rub her pussy and give her an orgasm. Wouldn't you do it?"
"Then shut up."
We sat and fished in silence for a while longer and smoked another joint. Then it started to rain. It was a warm summer rain, and not unpleasant, and the car was far away, so we just sat and got rained on until we were pretty well soaked. Then it stopped raining and the sun came out.
"If you want," said Scarlett, "I could do you."
I wasn't sure what
"I mean I'd like to masturbate you."
During our interlude, I'd decided that Scarlett had been definitely been pulling my leg about all her hand-jobbery, and probably the lesbianism too. She had a strange sense of humor like that. Besides, if any of it were true, I'd have heard rumors. And I'd never heard any rumors about my sister, at least not about anything sexual. So, I decided to call her bluff. "Yes, I would enjoy a nice handjob," I said. I even started to unzip my fly, confidently expecting a look of horror to come over her face.
Which, it didn't. Instead, Scarlett rolled over in the grass and slipped her fingers into the waistband of my cargo shorts. I was stunned into passivity, as if she'd bonked me over the head with a stick.
I noticed then that my bobber was twitching. It dipped sharply beneath the surface of the water, popped back up, and then went speeding off across the lake. I looked down and noticed also that my $100 fishing pole was slipping from my limp grip, but I failed to do anything, and it popped out of my hand (this all happened in a split second, but it felt like time was stretched). Then, as it bounced down toward the lake, its reel snagged against my sister's $100 pole (which also belonged to me), lying abandoned in the grass, and both poles disappeared beneath the water.
"Wow, that must have been a big fish!" said my sister, who had somehow managed to yank my shorts down while I was distracted, and was now holding my erect penis in her hand.
"Um..." was the only protest I could manage.
"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," my sister sang back to me in her lovely soprano. She was kneeling beside me, her face inches from mine, and I could feel her cool breath in my ear canal, as my eardrum buzzed with the sound of her voice. "I've got your willy," she whispered.
She held it strangely, with the tip of her index finger and thumb, like a specimen she was inspecting. She seemed to be measuring its girth. She measured it in several places up and down the shaft, and then poked at the soft head with her chipped red nail. "I never knew you had such a nice cock," she said, finally.
I still couldn't respond.
She made an O with her finger and thumb, and gripped my cock, using only those two fingers, tightly, around the most sensitive part of the shaft, just below the base of my head. Slowly, she began to move her fingers up and down, not sliding them across the surface of the skin, but actually gripping the skin and moving it up and down against the stiff inner workings of my cock.
I gasped. Scarlett slithered her tongue into my ear, and it felt like my brain was invaded by some wet, crackling mollusc. I was engulfed. A jolt of pure pleasure surged through every nerve in my body, as Scarlett skilfully worked my control knob with her fingers and murmured slurpy nothings directly into my brain.
But the stimulus soon grew too much, and I had to escape her tongue. I fell back into a reclining position, propped on my elbows, but my elbows trembled and gave way, and I fell all the way back into the grass, squirming and shuddering as Scarlett continued to work my cock.