Bluebird

I walked up the four wooden steps to the front door of the small, lake house, breathing heavily due to the increased altitude; the wood panels and red tin roof beckoning me back to childhood summers spent in the splendor of calmness and nature. The lake, just behind the house, had provided hours of recreation and peace, and there I was, back at the beautiful body of water. I could feel the cool liquid running across my body as tangibly as if I had already dived in.

I arrived at the door seconds later, my mind still entranced in the ardor of gliding through the natural collection of liquid, my hand inches from the metal doorknob. Violently, the door swung inward, shattering the imagery of the lake and its quiet splendor. Two arms flung around me, and warm lips pressed against my cheek.

"Sam," Danielle spoke as soon as her lips had left my face, "I haven't seen you in like forever!"

"Yeah," I replied, stunned by the warmer-than-usual reception from my only sibling. "How've you been?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. Pleasantries never suited her.

Standing only inches apart, I hadn't realized what my sister neglected in her apparel, until she stepped back.

"Danielle!" I grabbed her hand and pulled her inside the tiny, lake house. Shutting the door behind us, I continued, "You shouldn't be out there only in your underwear!"

"C'mon, Sam," she reasoned playfully, "There's no one around for miles."

I looked down at my older sister's outfit. Her tight, grey, V-neck ended half an inch above her black waistband, revealing the contour of her T-shirt bra. She lacked shorts, exposing her white, boy briefs with black trim.

"What's this for?" She pointed to the black trim that curved down the center of the briefs, not concerned at all about her attire, or lack of.

"That's the fly." I conceded. "It makes it easier to pee."

"Pee." Danielle giggled. "So you pull your.. thing... through this tiny hole?"

"Those are for twelve year-olds." I rolled my eyes.

As she turned and left me at the door, my eyes fell to her toned glutes; the stretched fabric of the child's briefs clung insubstantially to the firm, prominent curves.

---

"What took you so long?" I gazed at the perfect lake, its stillness and clearness entranced me; the click of the rear door of the house alerting me to my sister's late arrival.

"This stupid thing." Danielle's agitated voice growing as she walked toward me.

I turned my head around, not knowing what she was complaining about, and nearly fell backward.

In all our excursions, my parents had never allowed my sister to wear any swimsuit besides a one-piece, and technically she was wearing a one-piece swimsuit. It was just missing half.

"I just don't feel anything on my back." Danielle turned, her acuteness lacking.

"There is no back." I quickly snapped my head forward, my cheeks as red as the newly-painted tin roof. "And there's only half a front." I mumbled.

"Oh," Danielle exhaled, as if she had been oblivious to this detail.

The olive of her swimsuit was nearly synonymous with her skin, the latter being slightly darker, and cut in two ribbons, connected at the chest with a gold ring, that tapered to strands which tied behind the neck. The ribbons merged an inch below her navel, hiding only the more personal. "Well, what do you think?"

I never understood why my sister asked me to judge her figure. According to me, there never existed any flaw. Her thin legs, flat abdominals, small breasts, angular shoulders, and lean arms constituted no objections and no reservations to her stunning body. And I know da Vinci hadn't seen Danielle's face, but everyone who did, either stared impolitely or took a third look. Her big, hazel eyes, modest, cute nose, unblemished cheeks, and juvenile lips framed by gorgeous, wavy, brown hair stunned me even now, after seeing her thousands of times. Leaving nothing to be desired, the epitome of beauty stood before me, asking me my opinion of her 21 year-old Grecian figure.

The protuberance in my swim briefs noticeably mardin escort increased as incestuous thoughts flooded my adolescent brain, and again, my face grew hot in the presence of my two-year-older sibling. Her gaze gradually fell until it rested on the bulge that grew in my black briefs. My hands shot from my sides to my privates, as awkwardness ensued; Danielle's mouth left gaping.

"Um," I tried to break the palpable tension. "I'm gonna jump in."

---

I heaved my wet body back on the slick wood and turned to lay in the sun. The fulfilling swim had drowned my insecurities and embarrassment, leaving me placid and accomplished. I drew in deep gulps of breath as I let my body warm in the rays of light. After a long minute, I stood and gathered myself as I made my way to the house.

As I glided to my room, I noticed Danielle with her nose and mind deep within a Jane Austen novel, her legs curled up into her chest on the white couch. I pushed the door, attempting to close it behind me, and slipped my thumbs inside the waistband of my swim briefs.

"Are you circumcised?" My sister's voice rang clear, not muffled by a wooden door.

"Yeah," I replied, removing my thumbs from inside my swimsuit.

"Can I see it?" The very words I dreaded.

"See what?" I asked, knowing full well the desire of Danielle's improper inquiry.

"You know," she frowned, closing the door behind her. "Your penis." Danielle's shame in asking and naming it properly apparent in her meek tone and posture.

I retreated to the corner opposite the door, the heat of her eyes overbearing, and pulled the waistband away from my skin to peer down at my manhood. Letting it snap back to my body, I faced Danielle, whose hand was on the doorknob, ready to retreat.

"Wait." I abruptly called.

No one had seen my privates since I was seven. My parents had taught me the importance of intimate parts and clothing. For the past decade, I observed this doctrine with exactness, the only exception being in the doctor's office. No one else had ever asked, especially so explicitly.

Danielle turned toward me, aware of the inappropriateness of her inquiry. Her head slumped, and her arms awkwardly turned inward ending in palms pressed together. She looked up at me as if I were to sentence her to some harsh punishment.

I sighed, resigning to reply favorably to her indecent request. If I could confide in anyone, Danielle had earned my trust. To deny her of this simple, yet perverted, request, would be hiding. Once again, I tugged at the waistband of my swim briefs and peered down. Slowly, I extended my arm until the briefs no longer served an adequate purpose. I felt my face heat up as I realized the inappropriateness of disclosing my intimates to a sibling of the opposite sex. Turning shamefully, I returned the waistband to its rightfully-named place.

I stood still, waiting for the door to click twice; the fulfillment of her request constituting an exit of the spectator in my mind, every moment an eternity. Anxiety drove me to turn my head after infinities of naive guilt. Stunned, I viewed Danielle quietly standing, centered in the room; her eyes wide, her demeanor curious.

"Sam," she gently addressed, "Is that it?"

I faced the wall again, my cheeks flush at the mention of my genitals. I felt Danielle's hand on my bare shoulder, but didn't acknowledge it.

"I've never seen one, so," Danielle explained, her fingers delicate, just like her lips, on my skin.

"You haven't?" I asked doubtfully. I paused, then added, "Dr. Woods says it's small for my age."

"It's modest, compared to the illustrations in the text books," she admitted, giggling softly "but I like that. Can I see it again?"

For the second time, I removed the black swimwear to reveal my genitalia. My poor penis extended a mere two inches out from my groin, above two marble-sized testicles held tightly in a sac of wrinkly skin. Childlike, my genitals were completely void of hair and lacked the scale of the average post-pubescent male, yet I relished the opportunity nevşehir escort to expose myself again. The exhilaration that came from breaking from moral code engulfed my entire frame.

Danielle ogled my manhood, bending her legs to get a better look. She pointed at my little testicles and repeated her giggle, increasing my embarrassment and arousal.

"What's it like, having a penis?" she asked excitedly.

"Like being a boy." I answered, turning sheepishly to conceal my aroused privates, my conscience catching up to my excitement.

"No." Danielle looked at me funny. "Do you... touch it?"

"Yeah." I quietly affirmed while my swim briefs retreated back to their appropriate height.

Danielle sat on the edge of the bed, her thoroughness seemingly unlimited. She stared at my privates, her eyes fondling them gently behind my swim briefs.

"When do you touch it?" Danielle asked.

"When I pee." My tone indicating the absurdity of her inquiry.

"I know that!" Danielle rolled her eyes. "Do you play with it?"

I paused, not wanting and not knowing how to explain masturbation to my sister, though Doctor Woods, a female, explained it to me. I stared down at the floor, the direction of discussion embodying everything I held sacred, confidential. Exposure of truth would leave me void of the little dignity I still held.

"Do you masturbate?" Danielle asked after moments of silence, the word escaping her lips and crushing me.

"Yeah." I admitted sheepishly.

"Can I watch?"

I hesitated. Doctor Woods had asked me about masturbation. She assured me that the practice was normal among my peers, and, as long as I kept it private, acceptable. I had already stepped into the unacceptable, the reprehensible, the immoral. Yet to employ this method of stimulation in the presence of a sibling brought my conscience back into clear focus, consigning my incestuous fantasies back into the confines of my mind.

My chin hit my chest in shame as I shook my head mutedly.

"Oh," Danielle surrendered. "Is that too personal?"

I nodded, my eyes descending to the little erection stuck inside my swim briefs. I knew, when my sister left, the impossibility of denying such gratification.

She turned as if to exit and immediately my hand fell to fondle the phallus I consciously left neglected. I watched eagerly as Danielle moved silently toward the door, my patience running out as I again tugged the waistband down. As she reached the door, she turned her head, and there was nothing I could do.

I halted, the knuckle of my thumb brushing against my scrotum. I groaned at the faint touch, arousal begging to become something more. My right hand quivered, dangerously close to my erection, which no longer could be ignored; a bead of pre-ejaculatory fluid growing at the urethral opening. Staring at the clear liquid and my engorged phallus, my moral fortitude failed. I let my knuckle rest against my tightening sack, square between the testicles.

Delicately, I turned my hand over, the waistband of my swim briefs rubbing against my knuckles until it concealed half my hand. I placed my thumb opposite my middle finger and gently grasp the thick skin, pushing my testicles outward and upward. Shifting my thumb and finger over my left testicle, I squeezed again, the marble jumping inward, leaving only scrotal skin in my grasp. I repeated the practice multiple times, each succeeding sequence adding to the anticipation of orgasm.

"Mmm," I groaned, my hand departing from my scrotum.

I shuttered as my thumb grazed my extended shaft; its smoothness unquestionably inviting. My index and middle finger curled under my penis, contacting the ventral ridge, blanketing me deep in arousal. I glanced up, my sister's eyes glued to my groin; our attention strictly involved in the intricacies of masturbation.

I moaned as I allowed my fingertips to trace the edges of the ventral ridge up my shaft until they glanced the corona; my sibling's presence enhancing my manipulation ten times over. The bead of pre-ejaculatory niğde escort fluid had grown and spilled out of my urethral opening, leaving a thick, shiny streak on the side of my glans. It clung helplessly to the underside of the corona, begging me to play with it. The tip of my index finger gently broke the bead and I ran my wet fingertip around the corona, gasping for an end to the anticipation. Releasing my erect penis, my body shuttered violently.

"I can't," I stammered, desperately attempting to remove my swim briefs; my eyes begging my sister to leave before orgasm.

"Can't what?" Danielle spoke, breaking her silence.

"I can't," I sputtered, giving up on my attempt and leaving my briefs at my knees, my hands in the air. "I can't. I can't... do it with you here."

Danielle stepped toward me, her body dangerously close, "You can't what, Sam?"

I jumped backwards, my back hitting the wall. Dropping my hands, I screamed as the waves of orgasm crashed down. Horrified, I viewed my penis convulse, dreading the feeling of semen traveling up my urethra. I moaned as a string of white torpedoed out of my penis, arching to the height of my chest before splattering on the floor in front of Danielle. I groaned as another contraction hit, followed by another streak exiting my urethra, echoing the path of the first.

Terror filled the room, as I waved frantically for Danielle to leave, but she just stood bewildered. I couldn't grasp my penis, as I usually would during ejaculation; dread washing over me as I watched the thick cream emerge from my urethral opening and ooze down my glans like the slow passage of train cars. As the strand of semen ceased to lengthen, I breathed heavily, my knees about to buckle under me, my terrified eyes mirroring those of my sibling's.

"I'm sorry" I apologized to her. I had allowed Danielle to violate my private sphere seconds too long, and now realized the eternal price of such a perverted misstep. I cried again, "I'm sorry," but I knew no matter how many times I said it, the obscenity of my actions remained permanent. I could never undo the abhorrent. I could never take back the incredibly incestuous climax of ejaculate now seared in Danielle's memory.

Danielle stood blankly, comprehension of the reprehensible act eluding her. She gazed, dumbfounded, at my defiled intimates; the cream-colored ejaculate in contrast to the flesh of the penis.

A timid "it's okay," escaped her trembling lips as she tore her gaze away from my reprehensible penis. Then she quietly walked to the door and turned the knob, leaving the door open behind her, letting the world recognize my repugnant state of post-public, incestuous ejaculation.

I crumpled to the floor, my head buried in my hands and shame. Guilt bathed me and I sobbed quietly.

"It's okay." I heard a soft, consoling voice.

Danielle had returned, a damp washcloth in hand, and a concerned look graced her gorgeous face. She carefully stepped over the patches of ejaculate on the wooden floor and sat next to me.

I looked into her caring eyes, trying to explain myself without words.

"It's okay," she echoed once more, placing her hand on my arm. "Let's clean you up."

I nodded and stood, reaching down for the washcloth, but Danielle shook her head.

"I don't mind," she spoke, transitioning to her knees.

"I can't let you do this," I called out in desperation, a tear of embarrassment crawling down my cheek.

"It's alright, Sam," Danielle whispered.

She pressed the washcloth against my inner thigh; its warmth calming and distressing all at once. As Danielle eased the damp cloth toward my genitalia, I squirmed. Silence ensued as the warm washcloth touched my scrotal sack; my eyes fixed on the wall. It moved gently across my testicles, contacting the underside of my penis as I winced and stood on my toes. I tried not to think of the hand that held the washcloth, drawing my mind back to the white wall, looking for some distraction; squirming uncomfortably when my attention fell to Danielle's hand against my short shaft.

"It's alright, Sam," Danielle reassured, wiping the semen off of my glans in a smooth stroke.

I again collapsed, finally able to hide my intimates, as Danielle turned her attention to the spots on the floor. When she finished, she quietly escaped.