So I'd never been there to watch as she did amazing things with needle and thread. All we did was sit around the main room. I thought I heard her let out a slight sigh when she began to stir. I would never have thought of doing anything like it otherwise, I'm sure. She told me the next week that our mother surmised something had happened when she approached her about the crispy stains on the sleeping bag. In , our parents lived on a small farm in Wyoming, and our closest neighbors were 40 miles away. In the summers, when it got warm, and the days were done. I wanted nothing more than to fuck her again.
My mom told me that the medicine she was taking helped her sleep, so she was probably out. And now that our sexual education got caught up. I slowly pushed it in. She saw me there, comb in hand, naked, sitting on the toilet seat while my brother, wet and soapy yelled at me. I brought my finger to my nose and sniffed. You know how sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees? I told him about it and he gasped. My sister and I had the typical sibling relationship where we were almost always fighting or arguing. The only reason I paid any real attention was because of the sounds they made. I slowly withdrew and then pushed all the way in. I swallowed, more out of self defense than because I wanted to, but then, after I got some room in my mouth and could taste it, it wasn't bad at all. I thought that was goofy. We were only a year apart in age and over 18 when it first happened. He liked to examine me when we bathed I can remember her pussy feeling very warm, much warmer than the feeling of her ass or outer thigh. I got my good feeling twice in a row with a daddy-pecker in me. Guilt set in that morning at breakfast for both of us. Momma's hands were hitting the bed beside them, and her head was flailing from side to side. Her legs were spread wide and there, between them, mating her like crazy, was Bobby. When I did I thought he'd had some kind of attack. It wasn't as sweet as Bessie's milk, and it was thicker, but it tasted pretty good. The next night at supper my dad looked at my mom and then sort of cleared his throat and said, "Well, I guess I'd better be thinking about building on to the house. I rubbed her pussy, feeling he softness of her panties and the warmth emitting from her pussy. I pulled her panties aside and stared, just inches from my very first look at a real, living pussy. She was wearing only a night shirt which had crept up past her waist and her panties were fully visible. Plus it was a lot less messy than just letting it spew everywhere.
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