Brotherly LovebyCal Y. Pygia©
When my just-turned-eighteen-year-old sister June asked me to pose as her boyfriend so she could join a nudist camp, I was only too happy to oblige. I'm just two years older than June, and we've always been close. Quite frankly, I've long wanted to see what she's concealed inside her tight-fitting blouses and hip-hugging skirts and jeans. Growing up, I'd kept an eye out for any glimpse of her flesh I could catch, but she'd been careful. Except for her legs, belly, cleavage, and the undersides of her buttocks, which had revealed themselves whenever she wore a bikini, I never did catch sight of my sister's charms. I'd kept hoping she'd buy a thong, but she never did. June had always been a modest young lady.
Palm Valley Nudist Camp is located southwest of Las Vegas, in the desert hills. There's not much around other than sunshine. After passing a biker bar and winding through a small town of mostly pre-fab houses and trailers, the road ascends through rising terrain until it enters the steep canyon on the far side of which, nestled among some palms, the campsite rises out of the sands. There's no guard at a gate. There are no signs. There's just the road, angling between two sheer walls of rock. Looking up, all I could see were the sides if the cliffs and, between them, a band of azure, cloudless sky.
"We're almost there," June announced.
I wondered how a modest young lady like my sister had come to know of a place like Palm Valley Nudist Camp. Maybe she wasn't as modest as I thought, I mused. How well do we know anyone, including ourselves? I know I'd surprised myself a few times, doing something I thought I'd never do. If a person didn't know himself completely, he didn't fully know anyone else, including his sister, either. Maybe there was a wild side to June I'd never seen.
I'd never breathed a word to anyone else, especially June, but I'd had fantasies on occasion about what it would be like to kiss my sister. Not in a chaste, brotherly kind of way. Not a peck on the cheek or forehead. I dreamed of kissing her full, soft lips and sliding my tongue into her warm, liquid mouth. During my fantasies, I also clutched her full, soft breasts in my hands, squeezing their full, firm roundness in my hands. I'd also cup her buttocks, squeezing them. In my dreams, she responded, kissing me back, and she'd moan and whisper, "You're making me wet." I seldom went further, but, once or twice, she'd slipped her jeans down over her hips, along her perfect thighs, over her dimpled knees, and past he shapely calves, stepping out of them to reveal her lovely, round ass and her trim blonde bush. "Fuck me," she'd whisper. Sometimes, I'd masturbate with these thoughts--these visions--in mind, but I always felt horribly guilty afterward. After all, June was my younger sister. To make love to her might be wonderful and exciting, but it would also be incest.
The road curved as it continued to follow the terrain steeper and steeper into the hills. The cliff on the left had steadily declined until it dropped away completely, and a panoramic view of the desert below opened to our view. From this height, we could see past the small town of trailers and pre-fabs, past the biker bar, across the desert floor, and all the way to Sin City, where, against the sky, the MGM Grand, the Bellagio, the Luxor, the Paris, and the other well-known casinos along the Strip seemed to be on a perpetual parade.
At the top of the rise, the road turned sharply to the right. Another long, steep incline followed, and then we saw adobe buildings amid a park-like setting of pines and palms. Now, there was a sign, the size of a small billboard: "Palm Valley Nudist Camp," it read, with "Clothing Optional" in smaller letters.
June pulled the car to the side of the road. She gave me a warm smile. "Thanks for coming with me, Mark."
I returned her smile with a grin of my own. "Hey, what are brothers for?"
"Thanks for not asking questions, too."
"I have to admit, I am curious. I mean, you've always been so modest. I never figured you'd want to join a nudist camp."
She blushed. "I'm not all that modest, Mark."
"You could have fooled me." I paused, wondering if I should tell her about the many times I'd fantasized about seeing her nude--and about making love to her. I decided that, considering that we were a "husband" and "wife" who were about to join a nudist camp, it was all right to divulge the part about having wanted to see her naked. However, I thought it wise to keep my fantasies about making love to her to myself. Even if she wasn't as modest as I'd believed, I doubted she'd want to hear about how I'd dreamed of fucking her, especially since she was my sister. "I've often wondered what you look like--you know, naked." I swallowed, feeling stupid. It had been a mistake, I thought, to tell her about my desires to see her nude.
She blushed again, but she didn't seem angry. "You have?"
I nodded, feeling like I was the younger sibling instead of the older brother. "Lots of times," I confessed. "For years, ever since I was fourteen, I've wanted to see your breasts or your buttocks or your vagina."
She chuckled. "That's the way you think of my private parts? As breasts, buttocks, and vagina?"
"Well, no," I admitted, "not really."
She gazed directly into my eyes. Inside, I squirmed, half with unease and half with desire. June has the loveliest hazel eyes. Depending on the light, they can be any color from gold to blue. "How do you think of them?" she pressed.
I licked my lips. "Uh, maybe I shouldn't say."
She continued to look into my eyes. "Say."
I shrugged. "Tits, ass, and cunt."
She laughed again, sounding delighted. I think she was flattered. I think she also enjoyed my apparent discomfort, my embarrassment, and even my guilt. "You've wanted to see me naked since I was twelve years old?"
"I guess you think I'm a real pervert, huh?"
She laughed. "If you are, so am I," she replied. "I've wanted you to see me naked since I was ten--and I've wanted to see you naked even longer than that."
My eyes widened. "Why didn't you ever say--"
"I wasn't sure you felt the same way. I didn't want you to think your sister's some kind of a freak."
"We're both freaks, I guess."
"We're not the only freaks," June said. "Daddy used to read nudist magazines--well, I guess 'read' is the wrong word in this case."
"How do you know?"
"I used to help Mom clean the house, remember? Daddy kept them in his dresser--in his underwear drawer. These magazines weren't full of pictures of naked women only. There were photos of men and kids, too--teenagers and younger children. They were nudist families."
I nodded. "I know. I 'read' several of Dad's magazines, too."
June smiled. "It seems we've both been keeping secrets, brother dearest."
I smiled, too. "It seems so."
"That's what turned me on about seeing you naked, Mark. I saw those young boys in those magazines, with their sisters and their parents, all naked, and I wondered what my brother looked like without his clothes on."
"I wondered the same about you."
"Is our interest in each other environmental or genetic?" June quipped.
My smile broadened into a grin. "Does it matter?"
She squeezed my hand across the console separating our seats. "No," she agreed, "it doesn't."
I thought about telling her of my other fantasies, the ones about fucking her. No. She hadn't indicated that she'd ever thought of me that way. She'd admitted only to having wanted to see me naked. We were both about to get our wishes when it came to that. I'd better leave well enough alone and be glad I was going to get to see June's tits, ass, and cunt after all these years. Thankfully, although I'd waited nine long years to see my sister naked, she was, at eighteen, in the prime of her womanhood, and she was more gorgeous than ever. It would be fantastic to see her nude.
Just before she drove back onto the road and entered the Palm Valley Nudist Camp, she gave my hand another squeeze and said, "Don't forget. We're not brother and sister; we're married."
I couldn't help myself. "I don't remember a honeymoon," I quipped.
Within minutes of our arrival at the camp, June and I were naked.
I guess both June and I knew, in general, what to expect as members of a nudist camp, because we'd seen plenty of pictures of them in Dad's 1950's and 1960's black-and-white magazine photos. Often against a backdrop of mountains or meadows, nude men, women, and children ate picnics together; swam together; played badminton, volleyball, croquet, or tennis together; hiked nature trails together; went boating or canoeing together; fished together; attended birthday or other parties together; or did other, mostly outdoor, activities together. There seemed to be a lot of togetherness among nudists. It was intriguing to see a naked father and mother with their naked daughters and sons, going about their business as if being naked were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is at that, but, because of socialization, it seems unnatural, even immoral. It also seemed to be the epitome of freedom. Not wearing clothes in public, indoors or out--well, it was hard to imagine what could be freer.
Knowing something of what nudism is like--or was like (Dad's magazines are more than forty or fifty years old, after all)--helped, but, I have to be honest, being completely naked in front of strangers of both genders and all ages (as well as my sister!) was both disquieting and titillating. The feel of the sun and the breeze everywhere on my bare flesh--in places I've never before felt either the sun or the wind--was exhilarating. Being seen without a stitch on by men, women, boys, and girls who were also naked was also exciting. Most thrilling of all was being naked in front of my sister and, of course, seeing June naked in front of me. I was afraid I might get an erection, but I needn't have been worried. Although I was excited by June's nudity, my own, and that of complete strangers, I was also too embarrassed to get a hard-on. My penis remained flaccid.
Most of my attention was on June. I'd longed to see her undressed. For years, I'd tried to imagine the sight I was now beholding, tried to picture the size and shape and slope of her creamy white breasts, tried to envision the concave scoop of her tummy, tried to visualize her pubes--the color, whether they were straight or curly or wavy--tried to imagine the contours and color of her round bottom. I'd even tried to picture her labia. How long were they, and how thick? Were they cushioned with baby fat or were they lean? Was the inside of my sister's pussy as dark pink and juicy as the cunts of the girls I'd sampled in my youth? Now, with her actually naked before me, I had the answers to all these questions; I had no need to imagine; her body was revealed to me, in all its majesty and loveliness. My sister was gorgeous. She was much more beautiful than I had ever imagined. She surpassed the beauty of even the loveliest teens I'd seen in the pages of Dad's nudie mags and the teens I'd made out with in my high school days.
June caught me staring. "Mark," June hissed, "we're married, remember? As my 'husband,' you'd have seen me this way before, lots of times."
"Sorry," I said, averting my eyes. Whispering, I said, "You're gorgeous, sis!"
She smiled, whispering back, "You're not too hard on the eyes yourself."
After June's reminder that we were supposedly a married couple who, as such, would have seen each other naked hundreds of times before now, I managed not to ogle her. However, I couldn't take my eyes off her entirely. I continually peeked at her from the corners of my eyes, pausing, occasionally, to glance at her breasts, her pubes, or her ass.
I look her hand in mine.
She gave my hand a friendly squeeze, and I squeezed back.
It was nice being 'married' to my sister, I decided.
Within an hour, nudity--ours and everyone else's--became routine. Seeing so much bare flesh took the novelty and the shock away. We began to take nudity for granted. Of course, I still glanced at women's and girls' tits and asses and pubes, and, yes, I checked out men's and boys' cocks, balls, and asses. June, I noticed, did the same, although in reverse, giving the men and boys more than a cursory look and merely peeking the bodies of the women and girls.
Most of the time, though, I stole furtive looks at my sister's beautiful nakedness. It alone continued to enthrall and seduce me. Memories of my fantasies popped into my mind like snapshots--my mouth on hers, my hand on her breast, my hand caressing her hip, my hand cupping her buttock, my finger trailing the cleft between her labia, my cock penetrating her cunt or ass. I had to dismiss these stray, random memories, because they were making my prick stiffen and swell, and I didn't want to walk around a nudist camp with an erection pointed at my navel.
June stole sidelong glances of my genitals and ass, too, from time to time, usually indicating her admiration of my assets with a brief smile. I wondered if she felt moist between her thighs. I wondered if she'd ever harbored forbidden thoughts similar to mine. Had June wanted her brother as a lover, the way that I'd wanted her, my sister, as a bedmate?
During the mornings, the camp was open to its guests, and we could go wherever we pleased and do whatever we liked. June and I decided simply to wander the campsite, meeting our fellow nudists, getting to know the lay of the land, and acquainting ourselves with the various activities that were available to members. In the process, June introduced me as her husband. Each time, I felt a stir in my prick or a prickling in my balls. I had to think of algebra or chemistry or physics to prevent my cock from stiffening. I found a lot of unknown numbers, worked a lot of chemical formulae, and solved a lot of physical problems that morning, managing, despite the almost continuous stimulation of being naked, of seeing my sister and others of both genders and all ages nude, and of posing as June's husband, to remain flaccid. For the first time in my life, I was thankful for math and science. Getting hard in front of strangers or, especially, my sister, would have been mortifying--for both June and me.
In our travels throughout the campsite, we saw men and women tossing Frisbees; boys and girls running after one another, playing tag, as they shrieked with joy; children swimming; teenage girls sunbathing; adolescent boys flying kites; families strolling nature trails or picnicking by the lake; and other couples, young and old and, presumably, married, chatting beside the pool as youths dove and swam, breasts bouncing and cocks and balls jiggling and swaying before them.
June and I held hands all morning, which made me feel even more erotically charged toward her. "Well?" I asked after we'd reconnoitered the campsite, "what do you think of Palm Valley Nudist Camp?"
"It's everything I expected," she replied. "It's everything I wanted." She looked at me. "What about you, Mark? What do you think of it?"
"It's like the Garden of Eden," I replied.
"I'm still wondering what made you want to be a nudist, though," I prompted.
"Let's take a dip."
She wasn't taking the not-so-subtle hint. Oh, well, I told myself, who cared? My beautiful sister was naked; I'd seen her the way I'd only been able, before now, to imagine her, and she exceeded my imagination's poor powers to depict her. I was glad simply to bask in her naked glory. Why she wanted to walk around in front of me and strangers without any clothes was unimportant.
"Okay, let's," I agreed.
We ambled among the palms, the beds of bright flowers, and the rock gardens, past the tennis courts, and through the male and female bathhouses, to the campsite's huge swimming pool. It was late morning, but the pool was heavily populated only in the shallow end, where naked kids screamed and hollered, dunking one another, tossing Frisbees, or playing tag. The deep end was unoccupied except for an occasional diver who, having taken the plunge from the low or the high diving board, swam to the pool's edge and climbed the three-rung ladder to the deck, as unconcerned at displaying his or her nudity as June and I had become in exhibiting ours.
June climbed the short ladder to the low board, which jutted out over the surface of the pool at a height of six feet. I watched her, of course, delighting in her loveliness. Her breasts were full, high, and round, and her nipples were erect in the centers of their puffy areolas. Unfortunately, it wasn't I who'd stiffened and swelled her nipples, but the breeze that fanned us and the cool shade cast by intermittent trees, walls, and other such objects. June's stomach wasn't merely firm and tight; it was slightly concave. Her hips were boyish, but nicely rounded, and her buttocks were sleek, firm, and curved to perfection. Her legs were smooth, shapely, and long. A trim blonde bush decorated her pubic area, hiding the cleft of her sex. Her flesh was creamy, but a day in the sun would impart a nice tan to her tight, supple skin. I looked away, knowing that I would get hard if I continued to admire my sister's body. She was more beautiful than all but the most gorgeous of her sex, and she was the equal of any, including actresses and models who earned millions of dollars a year for maintaining their fabulous, sexy shapes.
She took a few light steps forward before sprinting to the end of the board. She leaped, came down hard on the very end, and was catapulted into the air, a naked, wingless angel against the azure sky. Her legs together, she bent forward at the hips, with her arms down, palms together, forming of her hands a wedge with which to split the surface of the water. Her ass was a cleft moon, beautiful and perfect. Then, her legs extended; a moment later, she cleaved the water, creating a graceful splash, and was lost to sight beneath the surface except as a blurred outline streaking downward.
A moment later, she surfaced, her hair wet and water streaming down her lovely face. She blinked, grinned at me, and said, "Come on in, honey; the water's fine."
Honey! Coming from her, how delicious that word sounded! Even though I knew that my pretending to be her husband was just that--a pretense--being called "honey" by my sister was wonderful! "I'll be right there, sweetheart," I called back.
I decided that, to impress June, I'd forego the low for the high board. Buttocks tightening and relaxing, balls jiggling, and penis swaying, I climbed the ladder and strutted onto the board, which overhung the surface of the water at a height of eighteen feet. I gulped. I hadn't realized that the board was this high. Well, I told myself, I couldn't turn back now. What would my sister think of her brother if he turned tail and clamored down the ladder after he'd strutted so arrogantly onto the board? She'd think him a pussy. I wasn't about to let that happen, even if I killed myself in the dive from the high board. I took deep breaths, studied the length of the board, and estimated when and where I should bounce my weight to get the best height I could out of the board.
As I stood there, another feeling came over me. I felt self-conscious again. After having gotten used to being nude in front of strangers (and my sister), I felt as if I were on display. All eyes--in my imagination, at least--were on me, ogling my bare backside, my exposed chest, and, most of all, my uncovered cock and balls. Then, I smiled, thinking that June, too, was seeing me naked against the sky, my broad shoulders, deep chest, six-pack abs, thick thighs, bulging calves, and manly genitals on full view. It didn't matter about the others, I thought. All that counted was what my sister saw of me, which was just what I'd seen of her--everything.