Meimei Pt. 01

Back home, I left to work out while An Shan chatted with the grandparents about Berklee.

I looked back when I reached the door to the basement. An Shan was watching me.

This time when she came into the bathroom during my shower, she immediately slid open the glass panel, all the way. I was soaping my shoulders and the back of my neck when she first spoke.

"I can get your back for you."

She rose as I turned. I handed her the soap and presented my back.

One of her hands fell lightly on my shoulder. The other one ran the soap bar over my shoulder blades in little circles. Downward it went. When I felt the bar pull away from my lower back, I began to turn around, but An Shan's free hand went to my waist, holding me there. Then, she began lathering up my bottom.

Her free hand fell away for a moment before coming to rest on the outside of my thigh. The bar of soap made circles on the back of my legs and calves. I looked over my shoulder.

An Shan was squatting just outside the shower, working intently.

The bar slid between my legs.

I spread my feet apart almost instinctively, and in an instant, the soap was upon my groin. I felt it on the back of my testicles. An Shan switched sides, running the bar up the other leg. This time, when she reached my groin, it was the backs of her fingers I felt on my scrotum. They lingered for a moment before the feeling vanished.

"Ready to rinse," she said.

"Thanks."

I turned my back to the flow of water. My front and my half-erection spun toward her. She sat down.

I washed and rinsed my hair.

She talked about the graduation parties she had visited the previous few weekends and what she wanted for her own.

After the shower, An Shan sat on my ass and rubbed my back with both hands for a very long time. She even rubbed my head, running her fingers through my hair and making circles on my scalp with each fingertip. It was incredible.

When she finished, she laid on top of me, and I felt the mass of her breasts squashed on my back.

She talked about friends. She said I was her best friend. Then, she kissed my back. I felt her lips on my shoulder blade, then my spine, then my other shoulder blade, and finally on the nape of my neck.

She thanked me, climbed off, and went to read her book.

***

On Saturday, we all went to the big summer blockbuster. My grandparents thought it ridiculous. Grandpa Chang wanted to buy us all ice cream afterward. He and Grandpa Li argued over who would pay. They split it only after the Grandmas intervened.

Some parents in An Shan's class had rented out a reception hall in town to have a pre-graduation celebration that evening.

Her ride showed up. "Two beers this time," I suggested.

"There's no alcohol. Parents set this up."

"Someone will find a way."

She smiled and left.

I lifted and thought.

My chief dilemma was whether I ought to make a move.

On the one hand, there had been signs from her--many of them. At some point, it occurred to me, I needed to take the initiative. I needed to kiss her before she began to feel disinterest from me.

On the other hand, there was a subtlety to everything she had done that gave rise to some uncertainty about her motivations. Casting aside the events of Wednesday night, where she had been terribly drunk, nothing she had done had been absolutely, overtly sexual.

Her kisses didn't linger, and she always moved away from me when she finished. A pause and a look would have been all the signal I needed to respond, but she never did.

Her touching of my penis was definitely a display of curiosity, but not necessarily sexual interest. She didn't grab it; she'd nudged it. She'd gotten a sense of it in the same way as maybe a blind person comes to imagine someone's face through light touches.

The back rubs were increasingly intimate, but so was our friendship. The same held true for the showers.

One could even argue that Wednesday night's stunning moment in the motel shower had not been about me. The back of my thumb had been in the right place at the right time. If my hand hadn't been there, she would have found something else with which to pleasure herself.

Finally, An Shan seemed content. If she was feeling rejection, I would know it. I knew my sister.

If I go for it, I concluded, and she doesn't, then everything is fucked. When a lifelong relationship is at stake, when family duty is above all else, isn't it better just to accept what is given to you than to risk seeking more than is offered?

***

An Shan texted me just after 11:00pm. "Pick me up?"

"Be there in 15."

"Thx."

I had finished my workout more than an hour before, but I hadn't showered or changed out of my workout attire.

I snapped out 100 push-ups to build a sheen of perspiration, put on some deodorant, and left to pick her up.

She stumbled--without falling--coming down the steps of the hall on her way to the car. I hopped out and let her in.

"How many?" I asked.

"Two," she responded proudly.

"Really?" I asked suspiciously.

When she sat in the car, she looked up at me sheepishly and added, "And a half."

I laughed, closed the door, and drove her home.

"How was it?" I asked.

"Nice."

"So two nights of drinking in less than a week. That a record?"

"I never had a drink before this week."

"I kind of thought so, but I wasn't sure," I said.

She looked me over. "Oh, did I interrupt your workout?"

"Actually, I just finished right before you texted me."

"Cool."

***

An Shan took up her usual position beside the shower with the panel wide open. She told me about her night out while I relaxed under the hot water.

When I reached for the soap, she said, "Want me to help again?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait." She left the bathroom.

I nudged the heat higher on the valve. Three or so minutes later, I heard her come in. She stepped right into the shower, wearing a yellow one-piece swimsuit.

It occurred to me, then, that I had an opportunity to protest. I could argue that I was naked, and she wasn't, so no bathing suit. In the next moment, I recalled my new perspective about these moments: to take what is offered and be content.

"Suit looks great on you, Meimei," I offered. "New?"

She nodded. "You like it?" She spun.

"Beautiful. Fits you perfectly."

It was beautiful. I had never known An Shan to wear bikinis, always one-piece suits that were designed for the shy young lady who didn't wish to stand out at the pool. This one was different. It was sunshine yellow, and it emphasized her figure. The top plunged beneath her cleavage in a deep, narrow vee. Her back was almost completely exposed, her hips, too.

"Let me get warm," she said, slipping past me to the stream.

I watched her pivot and twist under the flow until everything but her face and hair was wet. Wow. She looked really good.

She grabbed the shampoo and told me to rinse my hair.

I slid past her and did so, feeling the earliest stirrings in my groin.

We switched places again, and she washed my hair. Her fingers luxuriated on my scalp as the lather thickened and piled high.

She already had the soap bar when I finished rinsing. I turned around, and she lathered up my back, bottom, and legs. This time she did not linger between my thighs.

It didn't matter. I was completely erect. Up to that point, when I had to face her or slip by her, I managed to cover myself or turn away with some success.

But, there would be no hiding this.

An Shan told me to rinse, so I spun to put my back under the rushing water and my front pivoted toward my sister.

I tried to play it cool. I didn't stand stock still like some idiot on display. I rinsed off my back as if she wasn't even there, moving and turning to clear my skin of the suds.

But, I wanted to see her reaction, and I surreptitiously watched her.

I caught her eyes just as I came halfway around. She gazed down, seeking out my penis, it seemed. This was confirmed when my erection came into view. An Shan grew still, but her eyes followed it around until my penis pointed directly at her.

Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes darted up toward mine. Having her attention, I took in her body from head to toe and back again. When our eyes met the second time, An Shan's lips pursed with the subtlest hint of satisfaction.

I held out my hand. She looked at it. I pointed at the soap, and she handed it over.

I lathered up my hands and gave the soap to her.

She watched as I rubbed the suds on my face, and then pivoted to rinse.

I felt her fingers on my shoulder, pulling. I finished and turned toward her.

An Shan put the bar of soap on my chest. She lathered my body, arms, and armpits, and then she knelt.

She washed my feet, my calves, and my thighs. Then, she stopped.

An Shan was on her knees, staring at my erection, her face maybe four inches from the jutting tip. With her wet hair slicked back completely, beads of warm water slid down her face. She looked intense and spectacular. Her expression as she stared at the bulb of my cock reminded me of the fervor in her eyes before a piano performance.

I watched her rub the bar in her hands to gather up suds. She reached for my testicles first.

We both froze when someone knocked hard on the door.

"An Shan, ni zai ner ma?" (Are you in there, An Shan?")

Mama.

Horrified eyes stared up at me.

Thinking fast, I pointed at her and nodded; I pointed at myself and shook my head.

She looked to the door and shouted, "Zai jer, Mama!" (I'm here, Mama.)

"Jian Dao zai nar?" (Where's Jian Dao?)

An Shan looked up at me.

I pointed at myself and shrugged my shoulders.

"Bu zhidao!" (I don't know.)

"Wanshang hao bu hao?" (How was your night?)

"Hen hao!" (Great)

"Hau. Shuigehaojiao, qin'ai de!" (Good. Sleep well, dear.)

"Ye shi, Mama!" (You, too.)

Silence followed.

In that brief moment when I signaled An Shan that she should be the one to respond, my thinking had been simple. An Shan remained Mom's sweet little daughter. I, on the other hand, was a grown man. Mama loved me, but she wouldn't be concerned about me. For An Shan, though, Mama would wait up until she got home. It had to be her in the shower.

An Shan stared up at me. She whispered, "Wan le ma?" (Is it over?)

"Wan le. Ta dzou le" (Finished. She's gone.)

An Shan gasped and sat back on her heels. Her head fell forward. I watched the rise and fall of her back and shoulders from deep, sighing breaths.

I took the soap and finished my front. After rinsing, I turned, and An Shan sank against the back of the tub. She watched me shampoo and rinse, looking a bit dazed, but relieved.

When I finished, I shut off the water and helped her to her feet.

"You better go first," I whispered.

She stepped out. Through the steamed glass, I saw her slip out of her swimsuit, take a towel, and leave.

A minute later, she cracked the door open and said, "All clear."

I stepped out, changed over for bed, brushed my teeth, and left.

An Shan must have been in bed. I turned out the lights. Still hot from the shower, I walked to the couch, smoothed out my blanket, and laid on top.

The bedroom door opened. I watched An Shan's silhouette approach me and kneel beside the couch.

"Gege, are you awake?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"You forgot about my workout."

"Oh."

"Can I?"

"Yeah," I whispered. I began to roll over, but she stopped me.

"Like this is fine."

Then I felt those fingers, those long piano-player fingers, on my chest and stomach. Instant paradise, my body felt like it melted into the couch. Her fingers were miraculous. They could work in a team, rhythmically kneading or caressing together. Her fingers also worked in groups. Her pinky and index finger pressed deeply while her thumb and middle finger made circles. Other times, it felt like she could make almost every finger do something unique--on both hands: one curling, one tapping, one pushing, one rubbing, one zig-zagging.

She finished on my chest and scooted down to my legs. By the time her amazing hands climbed up to my thighs, I had a skin-straining erection. It hurt. I adjusted my hips to relieve some of the pressure from my boxers on the tip. It didn't work. I tried again.

An Shan's hands stopped me.

Her index fingers curled under the elastic waistband and raised it over my erection. She slid the boxers down my legs and off my feet.

Blood surged through me, and I felt my heart thudding against my ribcage jackrabbit fast.

Her hands slid across my middle, one gliding across the tops of my thighs and over my testicles, the other nestling into my pubic hairs.

I caught my breath, and my right hand flew from behind my head and landed behind An Shan's knee. I held her.

Her hands undulated, massaging my lower pelvis on one side and my testicles on the other. I felt my penis flex several times; it lurched and wobbled. Real or imaginary, the downward pressure of her hands on the flesh around my penis seemed to make my erection strain higher.

The feeling of her hands upon me vanished, and I waited.

One hand came to rest on my chest.

I drew breath, regripping the back of her thigh.

I saw the other hand rise up and hover over my erection, and I closed my eyes.

Five fingertips lightly came to rest around the shaft, all at the same height--just under the tip. They slid down. It was the softest of touches, like five beads of morning dew sliding down a thick stalk. The head of my erection nestled into her palm, and then the fingers slid up.

My right hand had released An Shan's thigh at the ecstasy of the feeling. Searching for a better purchase, I suddenly gripped a handful of An Shan's ass. She let slip a faint gasp. I held tight, feeling the hefty flesh and its curvature through her skimpy cotton panties.

After gently sliding up and down three times, An Shan released. A moment later, I felt two of her fingers glide from the base to the tip. The two fingers traced the bulbous tip a few times and then slid down the other side.

Next, the tips of An Shan's thumb and index finger squeezed the base. They traveled up the shaft a bit, squeezing again. Still further up, her fingers pressed again. Finally, she reached the tip, and the fingertips softly pinched the flesh and rubbed back and forth for a moment.

After this, I felt the pads of her finger along the shaft, but she did not grip. She pressed, relaxed, and then moved to a new place to do it again.

For her, this is not sexual--or not completely sexual--I realized.

To me, it felt as if she were trying to make what she was doing feel like part of the massage, but in truth, she was just exploring what was in her hands. Research is what I felt--under the guise of a massage.

An Shan was feeling to understand and learn, to get a sense of the form, texture, and proportions of what she held. She was filling up her imagination with answers.

She was not going to make me cum--or, at least, I didn't think so. I hated the thought. But, I loved what I was getting.

An idea occurred to me: I could tell her, right now, to grab it. I could do it. For that matter, I could let go of her ass, slip my fingers inside those panties, and rub her pussy. I could put a finger inside of her. She would let me, too, and she would stroke my cock if I asked her.

But, she wasn't stroking me, and that was the key.

An Shan's fingers curled underneath my scrotum. She lifted and held my balls for a second. Then, she tenderly hefted them as if to gauge their mass. As her thumb rolled over each testicle, I wondered about her motivations.

Was I her research subject for general purposes or specific? She wanted to know male anatomy--male sexual anatomy, especially. So, was she using me just to know, for some unspecified future purpose? Or, did she have some person in mind, some guy for whom she'd decided she needed to prepare herself by using me?

I wasn't sure about either of the possibilities because she seemed to want to do this. It didn't feel like homework.

She wanted to serve me. I knew she said she was working out her hands, and it may well have been true that her teacher suggested the idea. It made some sense. Massaging would strengthen fingers, hands, and wrists, but so would a lot of other activities. Plus, others in the house might really enjoy a massage, too.

No, she sought me out.

And then there was how she washed me. That wasn't a hands workout. That was giving. It was a service to me.

So, she wanted to give of herself and her time to me. She wanted to take care of me and make me feel good. But, why?

I hoped she didn't feel she owed it. I did not like that idea, but it seemed plausible. I gave of my time freely for her. I let her use my room. I talked to her and spent time with her like never before. Most importantly, I rescued her from certain doom on Wednesday night. Baba and Mama would have been furious with her drinking.

Did the sexual aspect of her ministrations have something to do with Wednesday night? Was she touching and caressing my penis as a favor for letting her use my thumb in the shower that night?

Shit. It may be that she felt she owed me.

But, I hoped not. None of what had transpired over these times together would carry any meaning if it had all been this-for-that.

Maybe, I thought, she just wanted intimacy, and I was the safest choice. She had called me her best friend. I supposed it was not uncommon for close friends to be free with their bodies, to let the other see and touch, to have an almost, but not quite sexual intimacy.

Thinking this, I immediately released my grip on my sister's ass. A feeling of embarrassment welled up inside me.

My hand had been clutching that fleshy globe with a tiger's ferocity. And it felt good on my fingers. I could grip her ass for the rest of my life.

Strange as it may seem, I let go because it occurred to me, then, that my hand on her butt could have been the more overtly sexual act at that moment. If she had been touching me as a learner, then I was clutching her as a taker. If hers came as a favor, I didn't want it, and my hand sent the wrong signal. Finally, if her touch came from a place of intimate friendship and giving, then my grab was inappropriate and rude.

An Shan let my scrotum go. Her hand fell on my thigh, and I saw her head turn toward mine in the darkness.

She did not speak. She turned back to my penis, and I watched her head lower towards it. Down past the tip. Further. Her lips pressed against my scrotum and the faint smack of a kiss touched the night air. She kissed again, this time on one of my testicles.

I heard her draw a waft of air to take in my scent.

Then, she kissed the place where my scrotum joined my penis. She kissed the underside of the shaft. Her head rose and held over the tip, and I watched the silhouette of her lips fall upon the tip.

Then, she drew back, sitting on her heels, finished, it seemed. She turned to me.

I whispered, "That was very nice."

She said, "Thank you for letting me, Gege," and then she left for bed.

***

The next day after the graduation ceremony--An Shan finished third in her class--she and my parents and grandparents went to various receptions. I went home.

An Shan's own reception started at 5:00pm, and I was needed at home to receive the catered food when it arrived. The family arrived at about 3:45 to help me with the final set-up.

A steady stream of people came and went from our house for two hours.

When it ended, I helped Mama clean up. An Shan had more receptions to attend, so she left.

It was after 11:00pm when she returned. Exhausted, she trudged down the stairs and flopped onto the couch beside me. Lifting each leg as if it were made of lead, she slipped off her heels.

"How many did you visit--besides your own?"