The Sibling Diaries Ch. 03byIntimate Confessions©
Full chain & introduction can be found at this link.
UNITED AIRLINES FLIGHT 2069 FROM DENVER TO
Now here it is four years later and Gretta has moved in with me. She’s been here for a few months and she’s started to settle in. I find it ironic that I’m sitting in coach on a flight returning to San Francisco as I take this story up. After all, our story started with us both on a flight between Las Vegas and Chicago stuck in Denver and here I am with my head in the clouds again.
As usual the passengers are jammed into row after row of seats that do little to accommodate personal space or even comfort. Happily for me I’m jammed in next to a twenty-year old muffin wearing perhaps the worlds shortest skirt, really more of a wide belt, operating a laptop with an earphone plugged into her ear playing music so loud I can almost make out the lyrics. She hasn’t said two words since we took off but what she lacks in companionship she more than makes for in ascetics.
There is something about sitting in the brightly lit cabin of an aircraft cutting through the air at thirty thousand feel that helps me to relax. As we rose over the blue majesty of the Rocky Mountains, I reclined my seat, took a sip from the drink in front of me and thought about the changes Gretta and I had both undergone in the intervening four years.
Gretta arrived, unpacked and moved in without incident. The first night she nearly walked in while Sandy, my girlfriend and I were doing the nasty thing over the phone, but aside from that we’ve managed the last couple of months more or less without incident. Well…almost without incident.
She has grown and is more desirable looking than ever. True to our word, neither of us has ever mentioned our stay at the hotel four years ago. The existence of this secret has caused us to grow closer in a strange sort of way. I sometimes think that she really doesn’t remember, but…I know better.
During the day it’s that way with me too. It is late at night when I’m alone in bed that I sometimes allow myself the luxury of remembering. I’ve been doing that more and more frequently of late and now that Sandy has entered into my life, well she’s confused the issue a little bit and that has also become a concern for me.
Gretta spent the last four years finishing her education and when she moved in the first change I noticed was she now had a direction in life.
She had always had a penchant for the logical and mathematical end of education. In graduate school, it had all come together unexpectedly when she discovered the striking similarity between calculus and certain computer program and software languages. Although she had envisioned tenure and advancement as a research fellow, her talent and ambition took her into software design. Now she lives with me, her brother in a conspicuously luxurious apartment towering over San Francisco.
You’d think with her talent, intelligence and knock-out good looks she’d be besieged by serious suitors or at least interesting dates. This has not been the case, at least up until now. In school as an undergraduate she had little time for the social activities most students immerse themselves in. Her field of study was dry, to say the least. She left the great issues for others to debate. There is no debate about calculus and applied physics, except in the most theoretical sense. For the most part, math just is.
Now that she’s moved in and we’ve settled down I find I’m more confused then ever about her chaste and very solitary lifestyle. I see her leaving in the morning, so lovely she takes my breath away. As a rule she wears a dark blue short skirt and vested suit with a white no-nonsense blouse. Her long white-blonde hair is usually done up in an elaborate French braid which reaches nearly to her waist, even after she has plaited it. I still haven’t seen it unbraided, but it must reach damn near half way down her legs when it’s loose. She breezes by with a sunny smile, a scent of shampoo and soap and the sound of her pantyhose rasping as she walks out the door and I just want to lay down and die for her.
I would like to say I’ve overcome my obsession with my sister, but that would be a lie. I have managed to conceal it very well and I’m very careful not to reveal our secret even with an unguarded glance. But the obsession is there.
It’s not like I’m hard up for sex. My current girlfriend, Sandra sees to that.
Sandy is that one in a million girl that every guy dreams about, but never meets. I’m not just talking about looks, which are beyond belief; Sandy defies description. She is short, petite, with dark brown eyes and jet-black hair. When I say short, I mean just about five-foot tall. Her skin is milk white, soft and clear. Her body is perfect with wide hips and breasts large enough to draw stares but proportionate and firm enough to need no supportive undergarment. You can tell that she will be that way until she’s old and gray. Unlike many women; gravity is her friend.
Now I suppose if I just liked beautiful women that would be enough to keep me in hog heaven. The fact is, she could be as ugly as a busted blister and I’d still love her. The reason is simple, she’s more perverted than I am and she’s really smart.
When I say really smart, I’m not talking about smart enough to meet the parents or discuss current events. I’m talking about doing the New York Times crossword in ink. When she writes a letter to the editor, it gets published, when she talks people listen. They’d listen if she had leprosy and about three teeth left in her mouth. You can imagine the presence she commands looking like she does. She takes people’s breath away. She’s not a trophy, she’s a treasure.
Did I mention she’s even more perverted than I am?
More perverted than I am? Now you might be asking yourself, exactly what does he mean by that?
The first time I met Sandy was at a coffee shop. She was dating a friend of mine. Surprisingly, he’s still a friend. We sat a while and talked. Actually, he talked. I was thunderstruck by Sandy. I’m afraid I gawked. That’s not entirely accurate, I gaped, I stammered and I blushed. Eventually I croaked something out like, “You are umm, certainly quite a woman Sandy”. At the same time I managed to spill coffee on my shirt while knocking a fork onto the floor.
My friend laughed and said, “Don’t feel too bad, Sandy tends to have an effect on people”
We all shook hands and went our separate ways walking back to work. About a block from the coffee shop, I heard small footsteps overtaking me and looked down to see Sandra by my side catching up to me. She took my arm and said, “I’m glad I met you, I’m sure we’re going to be very good friends.” She then offered me a firm dry handshake and turned to scurry off to her job. I nearly came in my pants.
A few days later, I had almost forgotten the incident. It was late in the evening and I was lying in my bed flipping through the TV channels waiting for the sandman to sweep me off to the zone when the phone by the side of the bed rang. I picked it up and said hello.
“Hello yourself” Sandra’s unmistakable voice came back.
“The boy has a memory, this is a good sign.”
“Well, um what are you doing?”
There was a moments silence before she said “David, there are quite a few things you’re going to have to learn about me. The first thing is that you should never ask me a rhetorical question, I don’t believe in them and I always tell the absolute truth.”
“Won’t you get drummed out of the girl club for doing that?”
“I never fit in, they all hate me, besides I’d never want to belong to an organization that’d have me for a member.”
“Was it Will Rogers who said that?”
“Who the hell cares, if I wanted to know I’d memorize Bartlett’s Quotations.”
“Well” I said, “What are you doing?”
“I’m lying in bed without a stitch of clothing on my body thinking about you, actually, I’ve been thinking about you for a while now and decided to call because these thoughts of mine are the kind that should be shared.”
“Oh, uh, cool…I think”
“You aren’t going to start stammering again like at the coffee shop are you? I don’t know if I can deal with a speech impediment.”
“No, you just kind of caught me off guard.”
“Get used to it, its part of my girlish charm. Aren’t you going to ask what happened to Allen?”
“Uh, yes, what happened to Allen?”
“Consigned to the outer darkness, doomed to life away from my presence.”
“I’m sure he’ll miss your humility, isn’t he pissed?”
“Nope, I set him up with one of the superficial female archetypes I meet from time to time; Tits out to there and a room temperature IQ. I like it when everyone’s happy. Aren’t you going to ask why I called you?”
“Why did you call me?”
“I’m glad you asked me that. I called you because I really like you and I think we’re gonna be real good friends. Also because I’ve heard you’re a sexual explorer.”
“Who’d you hear that from?”
“Never you mind, suffice it to say you’ve left a few broken hearts behind you and you know how girls talk.”
Sadly, I did know.
“So you called to have your heart broken?” I asked.
“Nope, I thought I’d give you a try and see if you’re the right kind of guy for me.”
“What kind of guy is that?”
“The kind of guy who wants to put his girl up on a pedestal – so he can look up her dress. The kind of guy who is smart enough to keep me entertained, honest enough to keep my respect and nasty enough to keep my interest. I want the kind of guy who wouldn’t mind being asked out on a first date no matter where it was.”
“I’m your man!”
“I thought so, I’ll pick you up in half an hour”
The phone went dead in my ear and thirty minutes later Sandy walked into my apartment and my life. She was dressed in sneakers, loose fitting sweat pants and a short sleeved button up blouse; a very strange combination. My face must have registered some expression of surprise. Looking up at me she said, “So I’m not a slave to fashion, at least not tonight. I suggest you follow my example.”
I put on a T-shirt, sneakers and sweat pants, “Is this OK?”
“Perfect” She dimpled nicely as she smiled.
Fifteen minutes later we were in her car driving into one of the seediest sections of town. Strip malls and franchise food places gradually gave way to liquor stores, pawnshops and adult bookstores. Sandy continued driving with utter confidence.
We were passing a group of sullen young men clearly involved in a drug deal in front a gun shop when I asked Sandy, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
She glanced over at me with an amused look “Of course I know where I’m going. I always do.”
“Would you mind letting me in on the secret?”
This time the sideways glance was a little more serious.
“That’s fair enough. I’ll tell you and if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I’ll turn around and go home – no hard feelings.”
She hung a left and slowly drove down a dimly lighted street as she talked. “I heard about this place on the web. It’s like an adult bookstore with those little booths where they show dirty videos except the walls are made of clear plastic so the people in the booth can see you and you can see them.”
I was dumbfounded. I’m rarely at a loss for words, but I didn’t know what to say. Finally I stammered, “Have uh Have you ever done this before?”
The smile was back as she answered “Again with the speech impediment, we may have to find you a therapist. No I’ve never done this before but I’ve thought about it plenty. I guess the trick is finding the right person to do it with.” Then in afterthought she mused, “I wonder what kind of response I’ll get from the patrons of this fine establishment? Oh look! Here we are.”
We were pulling into the parking lot of quite possibly the sleaziest adult bookstore I’ve ever seen. The dim lights flashed and buzzed over signs advertising a 24-hour arcade and Girls! Girls! Girls! Broken glass sparkled on the asphalt and a insubstantial drizzle had started to fall. She pulled into a parking space, shutting off the engine. We sat for a moment in the darkened car listening to the engine tick and then she said, “OK this is it, the moment of truth. Do we go in and try out the entertainment or do I start the car up and go back home?”
I opened the door and got out. She followed suit.
I think we’d better lock it” she said apologetically.
We walked across the parking lot scattering shards of pulverized glass as we went. She took my arm and gave it a squeeze.
“I’ll do anything for a new experience” she whispered walking on tiptoe so her whisper would reach my ear. We opened the door and went in.
The interior was brightly lit with row after of row of plastic wrapped magazines touting every perversion I had ever heard of and quite a few I’d never even imagined. The florescent lights reflected back from the plastic as we stopped before a display of magazines apparently aimed at men who liked to dress up as babies and poop in their diapers. Sandy coiled her arm around my waist and stage whispered “I hope you’re not getting any ideas, I’m as adventurous as the next girl, but the only asses I intend to wipe won’t be attached to a grown man.”
“Put your mind at ease” I whispered back, “That looks about as exciting as dental work.”
“I guess it takes all kinds” she said moving on to a rack featuring an array of blindfolded men and women engaged in diversified sexual activities while others looked on.
“Now on the other hand…”
“I think I might have a blindfold or two at home” I
“That’s more like it”, she said, giving my waist a squeeze and heading toward the ratty looking gentleman in the squalid change making cubicle. He sat behind a glass topped counter filled with condoms and various sexual aids watching Jerry Springer disinterestedly on an ancient 13 inch TV. As we approached I was able to see that his dirty T-shirt was a study in culinary anthropology with every meal he had eaten over the past few days etched in a pattern of stains that announced his dietary habits as clearly as some peoples T-shirts announced their political beliefs. As we walked up, he eyed us with bored disinterest
“My treat” She said, gamely offering the seedy, cigar-chewing proprietor a twenty. He counted out the entire amount in one-dollar bills and thrust it back at her. We walked back toward the video area. Standing near the entrance eyeing the various movie posters was another couple; a young girl and an older man. The girl wore a flowered print dress and the man wore a dark suit. When they caught sight of us, the man leaned over and whispered something to the girl who blushed and nodded. As we passed them, Sandy paused, looked toward the girl and smiled. The girl smiled back uncertainly and returned her gaze to the movie posters. We stepped into the twilight of the video area.
There were red and green lights above the booth doors indicating occupancy. There were also a couple of men eyeing us as we walked in. If we created a stir, they didn’t indicate it but their eyes certainly followed Sandy as we walked to one of the green lighted doors opened it and stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind us.
It was pitch black except for the red flashing of the slot where we were supposed to deposit money. I felt around for a second before I realized that there were two plastic chairs; just enough room for two people to sit and watch a dirty movie. The scent of old sex, sperm, sweat and the personal aroma of earlier patrons the disinfectant had failed to mask was so tangible it left a taste in my mouth. As we groped in the darkness trying to locate our seats, Sandy whispered, “It even smells nasty.” I heard the scrape of a chair on the floor and the sound of Sandy sitting in it. I located mine and did the same.
As Sandy sat down and fed a dollar into the slot she whispered “This is so cool”. The screen came to life revealing that the walls of the booth were indeed made of translucent plastic. The booth to the right and the left were unoccupied, but the light from our screen illuminated the shapes of chairs in the other booths.
On the screen two men and a woman were having sex. The woman, on her knees was alternating sucking each of the guys while she played with her own breasts. Sandy switched the channel. “I just love channel surfing,” The first picture was replaced by a couple watching a man and a woman make love.
The couple watching squirmed and kissed each other as the couple fucking went at it. Sandy switched the picture again. Now one girl stood naked in front of a group of men who were clearly excited by her presence. The girl issued orders and the men followed her instructions. I heard Sandy draw in her breath and let it out slowly saying “Oh man this is really cool” as she exhaled.
The door to the right of us opened briefly allowing the dim light from the exterior arcade to radiate through the plastic wall into our booth. The door shut and we were in darkness again. On the screen, the girl was telling this man to stroke another and allowing various others to touch her breasts as they crowded around her. Next door the screen glowed to life as the occupant took his place in his chair.
“I think it’s time for me to give this fellow here a treat” Sandy whispered to me and started to slowly unbutton her blouse, never taking her eyes off the screen.
Up to this point, the strangeness of the situation had pretty well robbed me of any excitement it might have generated. When Sandy started to unbutton her blouse, I could see that she had nothing at all on under it. A bolt of excitement sped through me as she gradually exposed the prettiest breasts I have ever seen. She didn’t do it all at once. She languidly slipped one button off at a time until the blouse was open exposing her cleavage and tummy, but still covering most of her nakedness including the nipples and most of her breasts. Just knowing that she was naked and so exposed and open was having a considerable effect on me.
On the screen the girl was still teasing the group of men by letting one young boy fuck her and making the rest watch and play with themselves and each other. “Oh that’s so hot” Sandy whispered in my ear, her warm sweet breath tickling my ear, I’ll just bet they all wish they could fuck her.” I noticed that her hand had disappeared and was moving inside her sweat pants, with a slightly slippery sound.
I looked down and was surprised to see an erection making a tent in the pants I was wearing. I really had no idea how it had gotten there so fast, there it was hard as a rock and throbbing with excitement.
Looking at my lap, Sandy urged, “Go ahead, just give it a squeeze, I don’t mind.”
And then looking over to the next booth she added, “You won’t be the only one”
Next door, the occupant had unzipped and freed a clearly engorged cock. While she was whispering to me, I noticed Sandy’s other hand was caressing her breast. She pulled the material aside exposing one breast completely and started to tease the nipple, gently pulling it, rolling it between her forefinger and thumb and then pulling at it again. I heard the hand in her pants rub rapidly, stop and then rub rapidly again, the material moving as she accelerated and then stopped, started and stopped over and over, each time the wetness a little more pronounced. Her aroma began to fill the booth, overpowering the scent of the countless previous occupants
“Oh David” she shuddered, “He’s looking at me.”
He was indeed looking over at us. He had repositioned his chair so as to be seen as he slowly stroked his erect cock. Sandy’s hand moved rapidly and stopped again. Turning to me, she said, “Look, you can see his cock, shall we give him something to look at too?” She stood up momentarily and facing our neighbor, pulled her pants down to about mid-thigh. I could only see her pussy reflected on the plastic wall. She wasn’t rubbing it. She just stood there, letting him look his fill, swaying her hips slightly, thrusting her pelvis back and forth. Then she pulled them back on and sat back down on the chair. Looking at me she said, “Your turn”.