It was late summer; but still T shirt and shorts weather, and we were sitting on the wide front porch of our cabin by the lake. By we I mean Alice, my wife of 20 years, and her kid sister, Baby.
Her real name is Jenna, but she's been called Baby ever since I've known her, because she's 15 years younger than Alice. My father-in-law had one of those May-December second marriages, and Baby was the result. Genetically, therefore, they don't look much like sisters. Alice is short, just a smidge over five feet, and slender. Strawberry blond, with small, but still firm breasts and a cute butt that hasn't headed south. Still weighs the 105 pounds she presented me with on our wedding day. The result of tennis and will power.
Her sister is tall; I'd guess close to my five-eleven, and what you might call 'zaftig'. She could stand to lose the 30 pounds she put on after her divorce last Fall, but has the most magnificent breasts I've ever seen outside the professional world. Actually, I haven't seen them; but if packaging is any promise of product they are world class. I'm not one of those numbers and double letter guys; I put breasts in four classifications: flat, small, grapefruits, and disgusting. Baby is definitely a grapefruit gal.
Pendulous, with large nipples. This I know, because tonight she is wearing one of those crisscross tops that tie beneath the breasts, and isn't wearing a bra. Below that is a sarong style skirt printed with big hibiscus blossoms. She has long, dark hair and skin that tans to a cocoa brown in the sun. Stick a flower behind her ear and she could be one of those "welcome to Hawaii" gals that greet you with a lei, and yes, that's the correct spelling!
We were halfway through a second bottle of wine and somehow the conversation turned to 'first times.'
It was early evening; I was watching the bats feed on mosquitoes over the lake, and hadn't been really paying much attention. Until now.
Alice turned to me, saying, "I never told you this, did I? About the first time I did it?"
"Jack what's -his-name?" I said. Your high school sweetheart?"
"No; Jack was the first real lover I had, when I was a senior. No, the first time was with a kid named Bart Stern. He was young and I was younger." Alice looked over at her sister. "We'd ridden our bikes out past the old quarry, to pick blackberries. It was summer, hot, and Bart took of his shirt. So did I."
Alice looked down at her breasts that were tenting the scoop neck blouse she wore. "They were even smaller then, just starting to announce themselves to the world. I was a Tomboy, and I too took off my shirt. No big deal." She leaned back in the porch rocker and laughed. "Except it certainly was a big deal, at least to Bart. His eyes just about popped out of his head.
'What're you doin'?' he said.
"What?" I answered. "It's hot, you took off your shirt, I took off mine."
He kept staring at my chest. "Can I touch them?" he asked.
"Why would you want to do that?"
"You kiddin'? That's what guys do, wanna do, touch girls tits."
"Why?"
"I dunno; they just do. Maybe if I touch them, we'll find out why."
"O.K.," I said.
He put his hand on one of my breasts- I almost hesitate to use the word; 'bumps' would be more descriptive! "So soft," he said, and lightly pinched what would someday become a nipple. An electric shock arced from my breast down to my crotch.
"Hey!" I said, and he took his hand away. "No, it's O.K.; touch the other one." Same result! I put my hand between my legs and squeezed my thighs tight. Some very strange things were going on in my young body.
Alice leaned forward and touched her sister on the knee. "You gotta remember, Baby; this was before the Internet and videos and porno mags. Kids were pretty uninformed in those days." She turned to me. "Right, Dave?"
I laughed. "Too right! I remember the furor that Playboy caused when they published their first crotch shot."
"Yeah, and Bart wasn't exactly a man of the world. As I was soon to find out, this was the first time he'd done any of this."
Baby let her eyes slowly close, opened them halfway as some personal memory surfaced into her consciousness. She threw one leg over the other, giving me a glimpse of tanned thigh. "What do you mean by 'this'?" she said with a smile.
Alice smiled back, shook her head, remembering. "I touched his nipple, said, 'Do you feel anything?'
"What do you mean?" Bart asked.
"Down there," I said, pointing.
"Oh, uh, yeah; I mean, sorta. But not from you touching me on my chest. Can I kiss you?" Suave guy.
"I'd kissed a couple of boys before, at a middle school dance one time, and it didn't seem to be a big deal."
"So", Baby asked, "you kissed him?"
"Oh, yeah! I guess Bart had had some practice in the process, because next thing I know his tongue was halfway down my throat. I felt his dick swelling in his jeans. Curious, I slid my hand down to his crotch. I'd seen dicks before; we'd go skinny dipping at the quarry at night. Only those dicks were these shriveled up little things; more like cocktail wieners than cocks. "Take it out," I said. "I wanna see it!"
Bart unzipped his jeans, pushed them down, fumbled his cock and balls over the waistband of his jockey shorts. Hard as a railroad spike and just as big. Five full inches of manhood. I touched it. It jumped.
"Now show me yours," he said.
I thought for a moment, then said, "O.K." Seemed fair enough; besides, I was kind of hot down there; maybe taking off my shorts would be a good idea. Little did I know!"
I dropped my shorts around my ankles and peeled my panties down. Bart put his hand on my hairless pussy. It was wet; sweat and that juice I make when I play with myself. He slipped a finger in me. I wrapped my hand around his cock, gave it a tug. White stuff shot out, landed on the grass. Bart was pretty quick on the trigger, but then I guess most young guys are.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Jizz," he said. "It's what makes babies, when it gets inside of you. Don't you know nothin', girl?"
Of course I knew the details of conception and procreation, from health class. Only health class didn't have a lab session, like I was having with Bart Stern, out there in the abandoned orchard, past the quarry.
His dick deflated like a balloon the morning after New Year's Eve. His seminal fluid was sticky on my fingers. His finger was still in my vagina, parting my labia as it pressed against my hymen. I'd gotten an 'A' in health class.
"Don't do that; it hurts," I said.
"What? You still cherry?"