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1. My Buddy Tim ------------------ Tim and I grew up together. Literally. We had lived three houses apart since we were old enough to remember. And we were in most of the same classes through grade school, junior high and now high school. We had a lot of things in common. We played baseball, football and basketball together. We told each other our deepest secrets. At the time of this story, we were both 15 -- our birthdays were two months apart. We were best friends. Oh, yes, and we each had a younger sister; my sister Susan was then 12 and Tim's sister Cindy was almost 11. As best friends, Tim and I did a lot of stuff together. We explored our small town universe for over a decade. In the years since we turned 13, we had spent more and more time checking out our developing sexuality. Of course, we began much earlier, showing each other our "weenies" when we were in pre-school day care. Beginning at about age 14, our weenies had begun to get thicker and longer, our balls had dropped, and we had developed modest patches of crinkley hair at the base of our dicks. Tim and I discovered masturbation independently, but soon shared our discoveries. We had a few side-by-side masturbation ses- sions over at his house and in my garage, flipping the pages of porno magazines we had retrieved from the town dump. Tim's cock seemed to be a little fatter than mine, but mine was longer when soft. When we had our "boners," we were about the same size -- nothing sensational, but respectable six-inchers. We were anxious to get a look at live sex. I reported to Tim on what I had once glimpsed when I wandered into my parents' bedroom in the middle of an afternoon fuck. I was only about eight years old then, but seeing a flash of my Mom's naked breasts and my Dad's butt was worth reporting to my best friend. When we got to be teenagers, we both regretted that I hadn't seen more. Tim's mother and father were divorced. His father lived in another town and he almost never saw him, except for a couple of weeks in the summer. His mother worked and she drank a lot every night. Tim said he was always having to put her to bed, and he could look at any part of her body when she was really passed out. Although he said it seemed wrong to be peeking at anybody when they were in such misery, I was secretly envious of his ability to explore the mystery of a wo- man's body. As ten-year-olds, we peeked in windows around our neighbor- hood. Most of the time, we only saw people in their pajamas or some little kid running around naked. Finally, we discovered a middle-aged widow down the street from my house who showered with the window open. By climbing on top of a fence at the back of her yard, we could look in and see her as she got in and out of the shower. From that dis- tance, we couldn't see much detail, but her big droopy breasts fasci- nated us, with their darkened ends. And this woman dried her black, hairy crotch with unusual vigor. We talked about sex endlessly. Although those porn magazines were pretty revealing, Tim and I agreed that we wanted to have a wil- ling (and awake) female at our disposal, to let us explore this mys- terious anatomy at our leisure. But we both agreed that the probabil- ity of some fully-grown woman spreading her legs for us was "somewhere between slim and none." Aside from those side-by-side sessions with Tim, my sexual activity was confined to jerk-off sessions in the shower or into an old athletic sock I kept hidden under my bed. By the time of this story, I had developed a favorite way of masturbating; cupping and rubbing my balls with my left hand, while pounding my spit-moistened fist up and down my cock. For variety, I would soap up my hands in the shower and squirt my goo from amidst the mountain of resulting lather. Lately, I had been fantasizing about some faceless, big- breasted woman spreading her legs for me and saying, "Finger-fuck me, Steve."
Despite our curiosity about all females, the increasingly sexual world of me and Tim never included our sisters. Susan and I used to take baths together, so I had seen her naked plenty of times, as Tim had seen Cindy, but that didn't count in the "naked lady" de- partment, because they (and we, I guess) were just little kids. As far as we were concerned, little sisters were always just there. Little sisters were not something you noticed, except when they got into your stuff or, in some other little-girl way, caused you grief. Our sisters weren't even particularly good friends, because Susan's extra year meant they were in different grades. But they each had their own friends, so there was often little-girl giggling in the background when Tim was at my house, or I was at his. We tried to ignore it. Not that our sisters were ugly. Tim's sister Cindy was blonde, her hair always cut in a precision straight line across the bangs and the back, never a hair out of place. Her big brown eyes seemed to broadcast a look of innocence and a hint of shyness. Tim shared his sister's big brown eyes but had a matching dark brown head of hair that gave him a wholesome look. You could tell that Tim and Cindy were brother and sister at the first glance. My sister Susan had black, curly hair like mine, and she was bold and brash; I guess she and I were alike too. When our sisters turned nine and ten (and I was about 14), things began to change. In my general horniness, I started to notice them as something other than neighborhood brats. Although they still pretty much looked like little girls, I started to see them as women who were not yet fully developed. Although they were far from "true" women, I could see that their skinny little bodies had begun to develop hints of mysterious curves. 2. Sister Sue --------------- Of course, the event that convinced me that girls this age were growing up was when I caught my ten-year-old sister masturbating. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Mom and Dad were off playing tennis. I had just come home from a playground basketball game. As I parked my bike in the garage, I looked up at Susan's room, my attention drawn by the loud rock music coming from her open window. I was struck dumb to see my little sister dancing there naked! She apparently hadn't noticed my arrival, so I snuck in the back door and upstairs to spy on her. Her door was almost closed, but I could see about half her room through the narrow crack. Which meant that I could see Susan about half the time, as she pranced from one end of the room to the other, jumping and writhing to the rhythm of her favorite band. She obviously thought she was alone. I hadn't seen my sister naked for years; not since we stopped taking baths together. Frankly, she didn't look much different than I remembered from when I was seven and she was four. Although she was taller now, she still had a flat chest and a hairless body. As I looked closer, though, I saw that she was not totally flat-chested; her little nipples stuck out from her chest. And, as she danced by again, I saw that one of the reasons was that she was pinching them as she danced. Not all the time, just every now and then. I also noticed her crotch was reddish, as though it had been sunburned. As she danced and twirled, I tried to focus on her nude pussy, to see what made it red. But her gyrations made it impossible to see any- thing for more than an instant. As the record came to an end, I began to understand what was going on. Without taking the tone arm from the record, Susan flopped down on her bed, with her feet toward the door (and me). With her thighs stretched wide, my little sister grabbed her hairless crotch with both hands and began a violent rubbing and stretching. It finally dawned on me that she was masturbating! Fascinated by this spectacle, I pushed the door open a bit more. Susan was apparently still unaware of my presence, because she continued. She stopped her aggressive treatment of her little pussy and began a more gentle, rhythmic caress at the top of her crack. From my surreptitious readings of adult advice columns, I knew this was where the "clitoris" was located. I also realized this was my opportunity to see what I wanted to see. If I played my cards right, I could have the "willing par- ticipant" Tim and I had fantasized about. As Susan's hand began to move faster and her head began to toss back and forth, I walked into her room and came to stand beside her bed. She was still unaware of me, until I said, "What are you doing? I'm gonna tell Mom on you!" Susan's eyes flew open and her thighs slammed together. Her mouth was agape as she tried to cover her little nipples and her mistreated crotch from her brother's glowing eyes. "Wha.. Wha... What are you doing here?" she asked. "I've been watching a very nasty little girl play with her- self," I said grimly. "And I don't think Mom or Dad will be happy to hear about this." Tears sprang to her eyes as she cried, "Oh, no! Please don't tell on me." As she folded her hands in pleading, I naturally noticed she uncovered her nipples and cunt. "Well, maybe I won't tell" I said. "But you'll have to show me what you were doing and let me fool around with you." For a second there, I was afraid she would choose to have me tell, rather than let me touch her. But she blushed all over and said, with downcast eyes, "OK, but you have to promise not to tell ANYBODY, not even Tim."
I rapidly agreed, as I sat down on the bed next to her. To make sure she understood my plans, I said "You have to answer all my questions and let me show you a few things. OK?" When she agreed, I asked her how long she had been doing this and she said just a week or two outside of the bathtub. I was then surprised to learn my little-girl sister had been playing with her pussy in the bath for years. She went on to explain that listening to her favorite group and looking at their posters on her walls got her "all worked up." She would imagine that the lead singer was pinching her nipples and the drummer was grinding his hands into her cunt. "But doesn't it hurt?" I asked. "No, it feels kinda exciting, because I don't really get that rough. I just pinch my nips a little bit." When I told her to show me how, she blushed, but slowly gave right nipple a gentle squeeze. I immediately reached out to give its partner a similar pinch. I was expecting something soft, but Susan's excitement had engorged her pre- adolescent nipples so each was firm and almost quivering. Beginning my "instruction" (based on reading sexual "advice" columns in those porn magazines), I said, "Let me show you something." Wetting my fingers with spit, I slowly rubbed around the base of the small pink towers on my sister's chest, first one and then the other. With more spit, I lubricated the nipples themselves, and gently moved them from side to side, flicking the little cones slowly. Susan's eyes got wider, and she said, "Geez, Steve! That feels terrific. I can feel it feeling good all inside my body." I reached down in my lap to adjust my cock, which had been stiff since I first saw the beginnings of my sister's dancing demon- stration. I was still wearing my shorts and jockstrap from basketball. I saw Susan's eyes get even wider. "You're not going to stick your thing in me, are you?" "Of course not!" I said. "You're too little to have real sex. But we can play around a little." Seemingly reassured, she relaxed on the bed, as my fingers returned to her nipples. Nonetheless, I noticed that she continued to glance anxiously at my crotch. By now, her nipples were even harder. They were perfect cones, dark pink and glowing with excitement. In addition, a flush had begun to develop over Susan's neck and shoulders. As I flicked her little- girl nipples back and forth on her surging chest, my sister's thighs began to grind together, pulling the folds of her pussy into a sque- ezed pink purse. Her hands, cast out across her bed, began to clinch into little fists. After a few minutes of this stimulation, she spoke. "Aren't you gonna touch my thing?" she whined. I had to smile at her little-girl talk. And at the transfor- mation from someone who was afraid of being told on to someone who wanted to be fingered. Anyway, I was ready to extend my exploration of female anatomy.
"Don't call it your 'thing,'" I told her. "You mean your vagina or your pussy or your cunt, don't you?" Blushing again, Susan said, "I'm not supposed to use words like that." "But, if you're talking about your cunt, why not say so? Let me hear you say it. Say 'I want you to finger-fuck my cunt.'" Susan's blushing was furious by now, and her eyes were wide at the naughtiness in the words and actions I was suggesting. But her thigh-grinding was also getting pretty furious. As I continued to stroke her swollen nipples, she blurted it out. "OK, Steve. I want you to finger-fuck my cunt! It's so itchy!" I smiled at her additional comment and felt my cock give a violent twitch at hearing such delightfully-nasty language coming out of a fourth-grader's mouth. I said, "OK, I'll play with your pussy, but you have to open your legs so I can see it better." Susan's thighs popped apart like a switch-blade knife, as I moved my hands down her naked little belly. So I could see things more clearly, I dropped down on the bed, putting my head even with Susan's crotch. I didn't realize until later that this also placed my jumping jockstrap exactly even with Susan's eyes. As I gently stroked the insides of her skinny thighs, my eyes were glued to her hairless box. Actually, now that I was so close, I could see that a few of the downy hairs on top of her little mound were coarser than the others and had a hint of pigment. I could see that my little sister would soon have some crinkley hair to match what had developed above my peter. For now, however, I was staring with great interest at the un- developed pussy of a sub-teenager. In the time since I had interrupted her furious crotch manipulation, the angry red tinge had begun to drain away from her fat little snatch-lips. The snowy hills on either side of her rosy slit now showed only a ruddy glow. I moved my fingers up her thighs and closer to her crevice, pausing to feel her puffy outer lips and to understand how the folds of soft skin formed the mysterious external view of a girl's sexual organs. Susan seemed to appreciate this exploratory caress, because she hunched her crotch a little wider and groaned softly. To tease her a little more, I reached back up to twiddle her nipples, but I discovered that Susan had already wetted them with her own spit and was using my lesson to give herself pleasure by flicking both nipples back and forth vigorously. Turning back to her nude little cunt, I decided I had learned all I needed to about the outside of a girl's pussy. I placed my fingers on the hairless flesh on either side of her opening and slowly opened her cunt-lips. I was fascinated to see the pale pink shrouds of her inner lips glisten with her juices. I thought to myself that spit lubricant would apparently be unnecessary down here. Opening the little girl's cunt also made the ridge of her erected clit more pro- minent, with the shiny pink knob barely projecting from its hood at the top of her slit. Still holding her slit open, I moved one finger softly up and down the outside of her little inside lips, feeling a kind of stiff- ness in the flesh there. As I began to trail my way back up toward the little clit-bump, I heard Susan groan again. In response to that earthy sound, my cock gave another jump. Then it was my turn to jump, because I felt Susan grab my peter, right through the nylon of my basketball shorts. Sitting up again, I looked down at Susan's blushing countenance. "And what do you think you're doing?" I smiled at her. "Can I see your thing?" she asked. Then, remembering my earlier lesson and grinning boldly, she said, "I want to look at your hard dick, big brother. I want you to let me feel it and make it squirt its stuff!" Again, I was excited by my sister's language. "Have you ever seen a hard one before?" I asked, thinking I'd maybe give her a first- time treat. If possible, Susan blushed an even deeper scarlet. "A couple of times," she admitted. As I raised my eyebrows, she added, "But it wasn't my fault!"

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