*February, 1984*
2 am, according to the clock. Jana was lying in bed, tired after an evening of studying; first year university math was a far bigger grind than she imagined it ever could be when she enrolled. Almost, she regretted going back to school after almost two years working. Almost. Wasn’t there a rule against starting school after twenty? She had nearly fallen asleep when William walked into her room, closing the door behind him. He climbed into bed beside her, and embraced her as she lay there.
“What’s wrong” she asked him, sleepily, rolling over to face him. Her brother was prone to late night visits when university had him worried. That was certainly why he was here tonight.
Sure enough. “I’m nervous about my exams next week,” he told her. “If I flunk my English class, I may be kicked out of school.”
“You’ll do fine,” she told him. “This is your last year before you graduate, then you’re done university.” She yawned. “Out of school, off to another city, another twenty-something-year shark in the job pool. Eat *and* be eaten.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t help it. This one is an important one.”
“Can’t you sleep?”
“No. I’ve tried, but every time I start to nod off I jerk awake. I can’t relax enough.”
“All right,” she said, “I can help.” She reached over to take hold of him, started to massage him through the thin fabric of his shorts. He let her fondle him for a minute or so, then pulled his shorts down just enough for her to take him in her hand. Silently, skilfully, she jerked him as she had many times before. He reached over to rub at her nipples through her shirt while she did and she let him, but when he leaned over to kiss her and begin to roll on top of her she shook her head and turned away. “No,” she told him, “I’ve told you before.”
“I still think you don’t like me,” he said to her.
“Don’t be silly,” she said softly. “Of course I do. I love you, and there’s no one else for me. Here,” she said, and her hand sped up. She knew when he was about to come, and when he let his hand fall to his side and began to breathe heavier she brought her other hand up to catch the come that spurted from the head, to catch as much as she could so it wouldn’t fall on her sheets and leave a wet spot for her to sleep in. She caught most of it, some running down her wrist. When he was finished, she brought her hand over and opened it over her shirt, letting it spill onto the thin cotton. She then carefully stripped it off and used it to clean up the little that was left on him, wipe off what had soaked through the fabric onto her belly. While she did, he lay there with his eyes closed for a bit, then smiled at her.
“Thanks, Jana,” he said. “I think I can sleep now.”
“Good. And good luck on your exam tomorrow,” she told him, as he got up and returned to his own room, closing her door behind him. Yawning, she pulled another nightshirt from her dresser, put it on, and went back to bed.
*October, 1984*
Up and down her head went as she sucked on his penis, her tongue sliding along the shaft, her mouth wrapping around the head as he lay on her bed, eyes closed in the nighttime darkness. Her jaw was getting a bit sore, so she took a short break to let her it relax, took him in her hand and jerked him for a bit, letting her saliva act as lubricant until it started to dry. When she felt him begin to chafe, she took him back in her mouth. Her breasts bobbed slightly beneath her nightshirt, and he felt them brush against his leg.
“Let me see?” he whispered, and silently she lifted her nightshirt off and placed it beside his leg, letting the moonlight shine off her bare skin, her nipples dark against the darker night, her shorts darker still in the dim light. “Everything,” he said, but she shook her head, *no*. “C’mon,” he said. “I want to see.”
She raised her head again. “No. Not that,” she told him.
“I want you.”
“You have me.”
“All of you.”
“No.”
He tugged at her hand, trying to pull her up towards him. “Yes.”
“No, “she said again, and bent back to take him in her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around him, her breath hot against his skin, taking as much as she could before having to pull back, knowing he liked the feel of the tip of his penis scraping the back of her throat. She couldn’t do much more than that, though she’d watched deep throat videos to try and understand how. She’d tried, but couldn’t. He didn’t seem to mind.
He relaxed on the bed and enjoyed the feeling, then said, “There’s someone else, isn’t there? That’s why you won’t let me see? Won’t let me touch?”
She pulled up, nipping the tip of his penis playfully before saying, “No. There’s no one. Only you.”
“There must be someone.”
“No. Only you.”
“I can’t be.”
“Yes,” she said, as she ran her tongue down the length of him, to the base and back. “Only you,” and she continued. Up and down, the pressure of her tongue, the feel of her mouth warm and soft, and as he lay there he imagined it was how *she* must feel, if he was within her, and as he did, in that moment, gripped the back of her head and held it steady to come in her mouth, holding her in place until he was done, feeling her swallow again and again, feeling her suck after each spasm to pull more out, the feeling of her doing so indescribable. After she had swallowed the last of it, she cleaned him off, tucked him back within his shorts, then moved up to lay beside him, her breasts warm against his bare chest.
“Can I return the favor?” he asked, moving his hand towards her waist, but she shook her head again, *no*, moved his arm away, then cuddled up close to him, one leg hooked over his, arm across his chest, her nipple brushing against his.
“Able to sleep now?” she asked him.
“I think so, yes,” he smiled. “Hey, I’m sorry to keep, uh, keeping you up any time *I* can’t sleep.”
“That’s all right. I don’t mind,” she said, and they lay there together for awhile until she began to get sleepy. Then, with a quick kiss across her cheek and a smiling peck on her nose, he left for his own room and bed.
*May, 1985*
“Mom and dad are really proud of you, you know.”
“I know,” he said, pausing in his packing. “I’m excited, I really am. Twenty-six last week, new degree, new job, new city, new life…still,” he said, putting more shirts in his suitcase, “I’m a little nervous, too. I’ve never been away from home before. Not for very long, anyway.”
“I know. You’ll do fine, I know you will. Here,” she said, “I got us something to celebrate.” She ducked out of his room, and came back carrying a pizza box from Fat Tony’s, his favorite restaurant. “I got this! Last chance to eat any. They won’t have *this* when you get to Seattle.”
“Hey, that’s awesome!” he exclaimed, and took a slice from the open box. They moved to the downstairs den, and sat together on the couch. They talked as they ate, talked of what he would do when he got to his new home, funny memories of when they were kids, what she thought of her professors, what he thought of *his*, who’s class to take, who’s to avoid, how she felt about her major. After awhile, the talk wound down and they fell silent in the deepening twilight, comfortable with each other’s silence. Upstairs, they could hear their parents turn on the TV, and start the first of their evening shows.
“This was great, Jana, thanks for the pizza.” He stood, and she did too. He took her hands, and told her, “I appreciate the treat. You’re right…it’s probably the last time I’ll get to have any until I come home for a visit.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, then laughed and spun around him, still holding his hands. Around and around she spun, laughing quietly then, both of them dizzy, stopped and fell into each others arms, still laughing. After catching his breath, he leaned down and gave her a soft kiss.
“Thanks. For everything,” he said.
This time *she* kissed *him*. “You can’t leave yet.”
“What do you mean? I go firth thing tomorrow–”
She listened to make sure no one was moving upstairs, then stepped back a pace. She pulled off her shirt, undid her bra, took his hand, and placed it on her breast, holding his hand within hers to cup it. She stepped back in, kissed him again, untucked his shirt. Took his other hand in hers, led him into her room. Closed the door.
Wordlessly, she dropped her shirt and bra on the floor, then pulled down her shorts, standing before him in her underwear as she had often before. This time, though, shyly, slowly, she took a candle from off her shelf, slightly shaking hands clumsily lighting it, placed it on her desk. Turned off her light, so they stood together in the glow of the candlelight.
Nervous, she looked down at the floor, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slid them down, stepped out of them, stood before him nude, letting him see her as she had never let him until now. He stood there, unsure what was happening, and she stepped back in to embrace him, kissed his ear, his neck. Pulled his shirt up so that he had to take it off, knelt down in front of him. he pulled his pants and underwear down and off, and she took him into her mouth, feeling him harden when she did, hot and hard.
She stood up, then took a towel she had placed on her chair earlier, spread it on her bed. She took his hand, sat them on the edge of her bed. Cupped his cheek with her palm.
“This is me,” she said. “All of me.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Tell me. Am I pretty? All of me?”
He held her gaze. “Yes.”
“You’ve never said before. All the times you’ve visited me since last year, you’ve never said.”
“Yes,” he said once again. “You are.”
Then she lay back, back on her towel, and pulled him down beside her.
He said not another word, but rather felt between her legs, hesitantly at first, expecting her to push him away yet again. Instead she spread her legs slightly to allow him in and he did, running his fingers up and along her slit, and she felt a rush of heat at his touch, but when he tried to put a finger into her, she gripped his wrist and whispered, *no*. Again, he said not a word but rather went back to stroking her, and for a minute she lay, enjoying the sensation of his touch. She felt a heat deep in her belly, and she pulled him towards her. He moved to lay between her legs, felt him adjust himself there, and she felt the tip of him up at her entrance, brushing against her, felt him become smoother as he became coated in her wetness, felt him enter her, just a bit.
Involuntarily, she drew back at the feeling, and felt him withdraw. Softly, softly, she asked him to move slow, *slow*, and as she felt him enter her again – just a bit at first, then more and more with every motion of his hips – there was pain, and she hissed a sharp breath when she felt him break through to fill her completely.
In and out he moved, and there was pain, yes, but also such a wonderful feeling, and the few tears that fell from her eyes blended with the gasps that came from her lips as she simultaneously pulled him closer and tried to move her hips away. He moved between her thighs, and she wanted to tell him to stop, *stop!* as the pain grew sharper as he moved faster, rougher but at the same time the sensation of him inside of her, the feeling of him rubbing against her in *just* the right spot, that mixture of pleasure and pain, that feeling of fullness and closeness was something she held tight to, not knowing when – or even if – she would ever know the feeling of him ever again. She wanted to hold him close, keep him with her, in her, not let him loose, full and hot, to keep him with her, a part of her, forever.
Yet too soon – and at the same time, not soon enough – the pain began to crescendo as he moved ever faster, thrust ever harder, his waist against hers, his hands under her to lift her up just a little higher so he could be within her just a little deeper, and enveloped within the pain of her first time was a pleasure she had never known before, building higher and higher, and just before he gave one last thrust and fell motionless she felt ecstasy, *such* ecstasy, all that she had ever hoped for radiate out from between her thighs all throughout her body in wave after wave. As she tensed, she bit his shoulder to keep from crying aloud, to keep what was between them to themselves alone.
As the last wave subsided, she felt him start to move away. Despite her discomfort, she gripped him around his back and wrapped her ankles around his legs to keep him there for just a while longer, to keep the feeling of him within her just a little bit more. Before too long, however, she felt him slip out as he went soft, and she released him to sit up.
“I–” he began, and fell silent, then began again. “That was wonderful.”
“It was,” she told him, and cleaned herself between her legs. “Here,” she said, handing the red-stained towel to him, “take this.”
He looked at the towel, then at her. “Seriously? This was your first time?”
“Yes. And it was with you. I’ve always told you, there was only you. Take it with you to Seattle. Pack it away, somewhere safe. Take it out every so often, and when you do, remember me and our time tonight.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “You’ve always been there for me. I will. Thank you.”
She kissed him back. “I was always yours, and wanted our first time to be something to remember. Remember it.”
He nodded. “I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
“I know. And I’ll be here, and waiting.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/sfgso4/a_sisters_first_time_mfinc
More?
Good story.
Beautiful, i loved edging to this